by Leona Karr
Zack broke the tense moment, calling from Calico’s stall, “Boss, you’d better give me a hand. I can’t get the filly to take the bottle.”
“Coming,” he said, his face set in rigid lines and the shadowed sadness back in his eyes.
They were strangers again, she thought helplessly. His pointed rebuff hurt more than she would have thought possible. The warm glow of affection between them had faded as if it had never been. She determined that she would do what she must to make up for hurt she’d seen in his eyes.
She followed him to Calico’s stall and watched as he knelt down beside the filly, tenderly stroking the foal and coaxing her to take the bottle. She knew from the hours they had worked together during the birth of Sue’s child that Hal Haverly was a man of caring patience and tenderness. His brisk, tough exterior was a cover-up. Clearly, he would be devastated if he lost the foal. The loss of his other animals must have torn him apart.
“Come on, sweetheart. You can do it.” Patiently he urged the delicate little mouth to nurse the nipple.
“What do you think, boss? Is she sick or just weak?”
“I don’t know.”
After several frustrating minutes, the tiny foal began to suck the bottle, and the men looked at each other in relief. “If Calico’s milk is the problem, we’ll have to make sure we keep her on the bottle.”
“Why would Calico dry up? If someone got to the mare’s feed, she’d be the one down,” Zack speculated.
“I checked all the feed. Threw out all the opened sacks in case the dirty work had been done before I came into the barn. I have enough evidence from the first round of poisonings to show the sheriff, if he ever gets his butt here.” He brushed his eyes with his hand. “If I’d been a few minutes later with the chores, I’d have never known.”
Zack nodded. “I’d say it’s a good thing you keep a rifle handy.”
“I hope I never have to use it again,” Hal said grimly. “Get one of the horse blankets and cover up the foal.”
As he closed the half-gate of the stall, Jill said, “I know you have a lot on your mind, Hal, but can we talk later?”
“I don’t think talking ever changes very much,” he said wearily. “And I don’t think there’s much more to say. What happened, happened. There’s nothing to be done about it now. The man’s dead. Besides, the way things are going, I think it would be better for you to keep clear of my problems.”
“It’s a little late for that,” she countered. “And I disagree that we have nothing to say to each other. There’s no way we can just ignore the way we feel about each other, is there?”
He silently groaned at the soft, guileless beauty of her eyes as they searched his face. All of this was his fault. He never should have drawn her into his life. She didn’t belong in the middle of this kind of turmoil. What did she know about the struggles for survival against men, beasts, and weather? She was meant for a better life than that. He’d lost his head and now it was time to get it back on straight.
At that moment Zack returned with the horse blanket As Hal took the blanket from him, he nodded at Jill. “I think you’d better get back to the house. Zack, go with her. See that she doesn’t get lost.”
“I can find my way,” she answered, frustrated. Why couldn’t she say something that would put things right between them?
“Better let me walk you back,” Zack readily insisted. “Still nasty out there. We don’t want you wandering off into some snowdrift, do we, boss?”
“There’s no need—” she began.
“Please, Jill, don’t argue. I’ve got enough on my mind without worrying about whether you made it safely back to the house or not.”
His strained look made her swallow her protests. She turned without another word and headed toward the door.
“Wait up,” Zack ordered as she plunged out into the storm before he could catch up.
Lowering her head against the biting wind and snow, she spurted forward for a few feet along the shoveled path. Frustration and anger fueled her steps. Stubborn, hard-headed, infuriating man!
Snowflakes collected on her eyelashes and biting cold air seared her lungs. Her feet seemed shackled with weights as she lifted them through the snow. And then it happened. Her legs went out from under her.
She pitched forward, facedown on the path. Pain exploded behind one ear, and she gave a muffled cry as the side of her head hit something hard, just under the surface of the snow. As suddenly as she had fallen, she was pulled to her feet.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Zack’s rough gloves cleared her face, brushing snow from her eyelids.
A ball of pain throbbed above her ear, and her legs seemed to be floating away as her knees suddenly turned to mush. She tried to put some rigidity into them, but couldn’t.
“Steady now.” His arms went around her in a possessive grip and as she wavered unsteadily, he swung her up into his sturdy arms. She could feel his strong legs thrusting through the snow as he carried her.
She wanted to protest that she was perfectly capable of walking, but instead she closed her eyes. As she pressed her chilled cheek against his leather jacket, the distance to the house seemed like an eternity. She was chilled and shivering by the time he threw open a door and brought her inside.
When he didn’t readily put her down, she lifted her throbbing head and squinted at a shadowy interior. A blurred impression came to her of bunk beds along one wall, two chairs and an ugly brown sofa in front of a Franklin stove, which had a black stovepipe snaking up one wall to the ceiling. A bookcase made of boards and bricks held a lot of books and magazines. An open door showed a small bathroom at one end of the long room. She looked around in bewilderment. She’d never seen the place before.
“Where…” she managed to croak.
“The bunkhouse,” he answered with an amused chuckle. “I was thinkin’ I’d bring you the rest of the way, being as how you were heading this direction.”
“I was not.” She started to shake her head in denial but stopped when the pain rolled like a demolition construction ball from one side of her skull to the other. “I know my way back to the house.”
“Most likely you got yerself turned around.” He smiled at her as if he was content to stand there holding her in his thick arms. “As soon as you get your feet under you, I’ll take you back to the house.”
“Put me down.”
He smiled at her agreeably but didn’t slacken the firm circle of his arms. “That big old sofa is the only halfway comfortable sitting place we’ve got. Reckon you wouldn’t mind resting there a bit. Me and Kirby don’t have many lady visitors.”
She grimaced as he plopped her down on a bumpy couch. She wondered if she looked as green as she felt Snow coated her from head to foot and he fussed over her, removing her wraps and brushing layers of snow from her hair.
“There now. That’s better. That fall shook you up a bit. Better lie down a spell.”
“No, I’ll sit up.” She resisted the pressure of his hands as he tried to ease her on her back.
“You’re sure? You look a little peaked to me.”
“I hit my head,” she told him. “That’s why I was wobbly on my feet.”
“Let me see.” He gently took her head in his hands. “Don’t see any blood, but I reckon you might have a goose egg, sure enough.”
She was slightly dizzy as if the blow above her ear had brought on a hint of vertigo. “I’ll rest for just a minute and then I’ll go.”
“No hurry. Sorry the place isn’t spruced up more,” he apologized, sitting down beside her. “A couple of cowhands don’t spend much time worrying about the way things look. Not a bad place to hang your hat, though. We spend most of our time in the big house. I don’t reckon any gal would think this was much.”
The bunkhouse looked liveable for sleeping and loafing, she thought, not really caring one way or the other. She glanced at a book left on a side table, surprised that either Kirby or Zack was a reader. She was uncomfortab
le in the situation. In fact, she was ill at ease with Zack’s whole manner. A spicy scent of men’s cologne touched her nostrils, and his dark hair looked newly trimmed. He was more than just friendly, and as soon as her legs regained some rigidity, she’d better get the heck out of there.
“Me and Kirby don’t have many gals paying us a visit,” he repeated. “Good thing we dug our way out here this morning and built a fire in the old stove. Feels good, don’t it?”
When she inadvertently shivered instead of answering, he got up, grabbed an army blanket off a nearby bunk and carefully tucked the blanket around her. He smiled in satisfaction. “There you be. All cozylike. I’m a-thinkin’ it was a good thing I was right behind you to pick you up.”
Maybe I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t been right behind me, she thought with a flicker of unbidden suspicion. Why had her legs gone out from under her? She hadn’t tripped over anything, had she? How close behind her had Zack been before she fell?
She raised a hand to the side of her head and winced against the light touch of her fingers against a swelling. She was going to have a bump for sure. As soon as she could navigate, she’d better get back to the house and put some ice on it. She certainly wasn’t going to ask Zack to play nursemaid. She was out of there the minute she was sure she wouldn’t fall on her face when she stood up. The whole situation was too weird.
“I’ve been hankering for the chance for us to have a little private talk,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “I know the boss is coming on to you pretty hard. And you must be scared, knowing he killed that man and all.”
“He didn’t mean to shoot him. Didn’t you hear him explain what happened? It was a fluke accident”
“So he says.”
If Jill’s head hadn’t been breaking up into aching, fragmented pieces, she might have been able to respond in some intelligent manner, but she wasn’t up to any coherent arguments at the moment. He sat down, crowding closely against her on the couch.
“I reckon I should have warned you earlier.” His mouth moved, but only fragments of what he was saying registered above a roaring in her ears. “Hal’s a dangerous man…don’t let him fool you. I can tell he has his branding iron out. Really a shame. You come here to help and all. And then he puts his spurs to you.” His expression hardened. “You get my meaning?”
She knew that what he was saying tied together in some way, but his words were like a gnarled knot in her aching head. She managed a hoarse laugh. “Clearly. You’re bad-mouthing your boss, and I’d really rather not hear it.”
“Hey, I’m trying to offer my help.”
“Thank you, but I don’t need it.”
He gave a short laugh. “Just like Betty May, another gal I knew. Got herself in more than one mess, she did. Always figuring a man’s worth in dollars and cents. But she learned the hard way. I don’t want that happening to you.”
She didn’t want to hear about Betty May or anyone else. Zack’s face was only inches from hers, and she was trapped by the prison of one of his arms around her shoulder. I can’t cope with this, not now. Her head was a throbbing locomotive threatening to derail. She moistened her dry tongue. “Zack, could…could I have a drink of water? Please?”
He hesitated a moment before he stood up and said, “Sure. Sure. And I’ve got a surprise for you, too.”
That’s what I need, more surprises, Jill thought grimly as he went into a small utility kitchen. She was preparing to try out her rubbery legs when he returned with a glass of water in one hand and his guitar in the other. Oh no, she silently groaned. A thumping guitar was the last thing she wanted to hear.
After handing her the water, he placed a stool in front of her and sat down. With all the determination of a Nashville hopeful, he stroked the instrument’s gut strings and turned knobs to get it in tune. “I guess that birdbrain Larry gave you the wrong idea. He made it sound like I didn’t want to play my guitar for you, but I’ve been waiting for the right moment. I wanted to get you alone. This song is for you, Jill. It’s a love song.” His eyes glazed over, as if drawing on some sensual fantasy.
Her head vibrated with an onslaught of wild chords as he began to play. I’ve got to get out of here. Even without a headache, the frenzied music would have been hard to take. She wanted to cover her ears and plead with him to stop the torture. This wasn’t happening. The knock on her head must have sent her into some weird hallucination. It’s a nightmare. Dear God, let me wake up.
The song he’d composed wasn’t a sentimental love ballad, but an explosive, almost satanic offering about being consumed by a fire in his heart Her name was scattered all through the horrible rendition. Every time she heard, “Jill, Jill,” she felt as if she was being hit on the head with a baseball bat. When he stopped playing, relief was an instant shock to her whole system.
He fixed intense eyes on her and her stomach turned over. How could she respond? What did he expect from her?
“Did you like it?” he demanded, when she didn’t say anything.
Taking a deep breath, she choked something about the piece being forceful. That was the best she could do.
She didn’t like the set of his mouth and the look in his eyes as he put aside his guitar. He wanted more from her than lukewarm praise. A lot more.
Summoning strength against the vertigo swirling in her head, she threw off the blanket. “I’d better get back to the house now.”
When she stood up, the floor swayed like the deck of a ship, and she might have fallen if he hadn’t leaped off the stool and grabbed her. As Zack steadied her, holding her firmly in his arms, she nearly fainted as she looked over his shoulder and saw Hal standing inside the door, his face as black as a storm cloud.
“What in the hell is going on here?” Hal couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The two of them cozying up in the bunkhouse. The sound of Zack’s guitar had reached him as he left the barn, and he’d expected to find his ranch hand goofing off as usual. But not holding Jill Gaylor in his arms! He felt like an utter fool. And he’d been feeling like garbage because of her lack of trust in him. She was holding on to Zack as if even the embarrassment of being caught with him was of little importance.
“Excuse the interruption,” he lashed out “I thought Zack had seen you back to the house. I didn’t know the two of you had sneaked away for some privacy.”
“Hal, please,” she said in wavering voice. “You don’t understand—”
“I think I do,” he cut her off. She pushed away from Zack and staggered toward him. If he hadn’t reached out to grab her, she would have fallen at his feet. He was so startled that he gasped, “Jill, what’s the matter?”
“She fell,” Zack answered bluntly. “Hit her head. I carried her in here.”
“Why in the hell didn’t you come after me? You kept her here, listening to your caterwaulering—”
“I was taking care of her. We were having a nice little visit while she got her feet under her again.”
“Just a little dizzy,” Jill mumbled as the angry voices ricocheted through her head. “Got a bump on my head. I need to lie down with some ice.”
“Give me that blanket,” Hal ordered. Zack handed it to him and he bundled her up like a child, pulling her coat around her as well. Then he lifted her in his arms, gave some curt orders to Zack about checking on the foal, then carried her through the snow, back to the house.
Enveloped in the warmth of the blanket and his arms, she closed her eyes and drew upon the strong rhythm of his body. As she rested her head against his chest, she closed off all thoughts but an invading momentary peace that even her aching head could not destroy.
Hal flung open the back door and bellowed at Kirby to bring an ice pack. The cook’s eyes rounded. “What in—”
“Jill fell. Stop gawking and get the ice bag.”
Kirby muttered something inaudible as Hal carried her through the kitchen and into his mother’s sitting room just beyond. When he set her gently down on the floral sofa, she
winced and touched her head. “Could I have some aspirin?”
“I’ll get it. Don’t try to get up.”
“You have my promise,” she said dryly, closing her eyes against the bongo drums in her head. Only once in her life had she had a migraine headache, but she remembered it well enough to concede that the present pain in her head was a close cousin.
He returned with a glass of water and the requested tablets. After she had taken them, he pulled up a chair beside the sofa. “Let me see.”
Gently, he turned her head to one side. An ugly bump showed through her tumbled hair just above her right ear. Ouch, he thought. She’d hit something hard, all right. He cursed himself for being so caught up in anger and disappointment over her lack of trust that he hadn’t walked her back to the house himself. But he’d sent Zack with her. A question hit him. Why didn’t Zack keep her from falling? And why had he taken her to the bunkhouse instead of telling somebody what had happened and getting help? Hal’s mouth tightened. How long would Zack have kept her there if I hadn’t heard his guitar?
“I…I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Jill apologized. Hal’s glower seemed to be directed at her. “Don’t be mad.”
His frown dissolved and his eyes softened with concern as he gently touched a hand to her cheek. “I’m mad at myself. Not you. This is my fault I should have taken better care of you.”
Her usual retort, that she could take care of herself, seemed inappropriate. Why not be honest? She wanted nothing more in the world than to be cosseted and foolishly indulged. Yes, even spoiled.
“I never expected something like this to happen.” He cursed himself for being so abrupt about sending her back to the house. When he’d come in the bunkhouse, and had seen Zack’s arms around her and her head resting on his shoulder, he’d felt like someone had hit him with a two-by-four. Now he asked Jill quickly, “Zack didn’t hurt you…or anything?”
“No,” she said, and then added, “but his behavior was strange.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure.” She needed time to sort things out and get some perspective on what had happened. Maybe it was her imagination that suddenly made him seem a little frightening. Sighing, she said, “Don’t ask him to play his latest composition—not without earplugs.”