“Look, last night was…great. I never expected to feel that way again.” Colt removed and resettled his hat, letting his gaze drift over her tense features. “It’s not so simple, Summer. I…my life is—” Failing to come up with an explanation that wouldn’t compromise Marley’s objective, he expelled a breath and threw up his hands.
“It’s okay, Coltrane. My life’s up in the air, too. I’m not ready to rush into a relationship. But you’ve given me hope that things can work out. Shall we leave it at that?”
Unable to articulate why he felt so miserable when she’d handed him the out he needed, Colt merely nodded. “I see Tracey bringing Spirit,” he said brusquely. “Time to get on with the job.”
Summer swung into her saddle, a too-bright smile pasted on her lips. Inside, her heart skidded in a fog of confusion as she went back over their exchange. Did Colt care for her or not? She shouldn’t press, but she intended to pursue the matter further.
Two hours later, Summer stumbled across Colt again as she galloped out from a stand of sugar pines, driving three ornery strays. Once again he had his cell phone to his ear. This time, she thought his lips were moving. But when he glanced up and saw her, he abruptly closed the phone.
“Can you believe someone dialed a wrong number and connected with me in the middle of nowhere?” His laugh seemed halfhearted as he tucked the phone away.
Summer couldn’t explain why his explanation tightened a band around her lungs. “It’s easy to misdial a cell phone,” she murmured.
God, she was so trusting. Colt felt like crap for having deceived her. Gabe had opened the bank account in Burns without a hitch. He’d taken a room at the Arrowroot Inn where Colt had stayed. Colt knew little else about the proceedings. He’d barely had time to agree to meet Gabe in town on Monday before Summer appeared and he’d had to sign off. And damn, he’d been about to put the same question to Gabe that he’d asked Marc. Instead of selling the Forked Lightning to the government as a park or preserve, would Marley consider some sort of partnership with Summer in a way that might allow her to continue running the ranch?
“Have you seen Rory and Lancelot?” Summer stood in her stirrups, surveying the pasture where steers wearing neighbor’s brands grazed contentedly.
“They’re with Trace. He drove the last animals we rounded up to the holding pen. I told them I’d wait to see if you needed any help. I figure it’ll be time to pack it in for the night at the end of this sweep.”
“Yes. I’m satisfied with the number of steers, heifers and calves we found. Tomorrow and Sunday we’ll comb the half section between here and home.”
“Am I off base in thinking this day has gone remarkably well?”
“I said this was the easy part, remember? Next week, it’ll be tougher terrain. Rory made me promise to leave the gorge itself for next weekend. He wants to see the eagle’s nest.”
“This is the only open range, right? From now on it ought to go faster because there won’t be so much stopping to check brands.”
“Other cows do wander onto private land. None of us fence. Anyway, you can’t get complacent. You’ll be plenty saddle sore by the end, I promise.”
Colt wagged his brows. “I’ll rub on your liniment, if you’ll do mine.”
Her cheeks flamed, and Colt loved it—that small sign of shyness. Desire struck swiftly when he recalled that she’d had no shame or inhibitions during last night’s lovemaking. It was a dichotomy he found fascinating and compelling.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You blush so nicely when I tease. Yet you weren’t blushing last night.”
A small sound escaped Summer’s lips. “Colt, you can’t say things like that if you expect us to keep our hands off each other.”
Colt considered protesting that was the last thing he wanted—until he remembered his conversation with Gabe. Luckily, a cantankerous steer veered past right then, kicking up his heels. Colt nudged Spirit after the animal, neatly avoiding a response to Summer’s remark.
They reached the pen before Colt had fully controlled the steer. He worked in tandem with Summer to herd the straggler into the corral.
Rory and Lancelot loped over to assist, quashing any chance of returning to the previous subject, thank goodness. Colt felt a weight lift.
“Me’n Tracey set up camp,” Rory announced. “He said he’d teach me how to bake potatoes in a campfire. Come on, Mom. Unsaddle your horse. I want you to learn this, too.”
“It’s Tracey and I,” she corrected him softly, scraping the boy’s flyaway blond hair off his grimy forehead. “And I hope you both remembered to wash before messing with our food.”
Colt tugged the reins out of Summer’s hand. “I’ll groom, feed and hobble the horses. Go on and check out the gourmet chef.”
“I heard that,” Tracey yelled. “The camp rule is: he who denigrates the cook gets the job tomorrow.”
Colt grinned. “Okay. I make a mean breakfast.”
Summer watched as Colt clucked to the horses and sauntered off. Each day she learned something new about him. So far, she mostly liked what she’d learned.
They had no opportunity to speak privately again until after the supper dishes were done, and Rory and Tracey had snuggled into their respective sleeping bags.
Summer picked up a shovel to kill the fire. “Wait.” Colt snatched it from her hand. “I’ve got my second wind. If you’re not dog-tired, sit with me beside the fire. There’s enough coffee left for two.” He raised the pot.
“Okay. I like to unwind before I hit the sack. I love it out here with only the moon and stars.”
“Me, too.” Colt poured their coffee and sat beside her on a log. “We’re at a defining moment in the west, Summer. Unless we save our open spaces, they’ll soon be lost forever. Montana alone lost 123,000 acres to development over the past five years.”
“Wow, you know the figures off the top of your head? It’s funny, but what you’re saying is something I’ve been thinking about all day.” She took a deep breath. “Frank says cows are the catalyst in our ecological destruction. He says they degrade land and water by eroding soil and sullying streams.”
Colt studied her over the top of his steaming mug. “That’s baloney. Without cattle to eat down vegetation, some rare species die out. Ranchers help preserve an ecological balance.”
“My feelings exactly.” Summer nodded enthusiastically. “After I took over the Forked Lightning from Dad, I consulted a range technician. He showed me how to move cattle by season, resting and rotating pastures to mimic patterns of wild sheep and deer migration. I’ve tried educating my neighbors, too. Jesse Cook is the only one who listens. We’re the only ranchers who do cattle drives on horseback, refuse to set out poison for predators, won’t shoot coyotes unless there’s no other possible choice.”
It pleased Colt to hear Summer espouse the philosophy embraced by SOS. He might have even mentioned their work had she not yawned, tossed out the dregs of her coffee and announced she was calling it a day.
Colt retired quite a bit later. He’d spent an hour or more deciding how he’d approach Gabe with the proposal that SOS form an alliance with Summer. SOS was in a position to offer cash incentives, even tax breaks, to keep land out of the hands of developers. He knew they sometimes hired interim managers to run a ranch until the government decided to buy it for a park or preserve. They’d never tried it before, but why couldn’t they go into a permanent partnership with someone—Summer? On Monday, he’d ask Gabe flat-out.
BY SUNDAY AFTERNOON they’d swept the leased range clean of Forked Lightning cattle. Pleased with the number of calves, Summer sent the men to the rail yard with the steers. “Take Lancelot,” she said. “Rory and I will drive the heifers and calves home. I’ll leave Rory with Audrey, so he can get ready for school tomorrow. Then I’ll hop in the pickup and meet you at the rail yard. We’ll trailer your horses home after the guys run my tally.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Colt and Trace
y helped her cut out the cows and calves.
Rory wanted to go with the men. He begged and cajoled, but Summer remained firm. Eventually the two rode off with Rory in a major huff.
“I don’t envy her.” Tracey grinned. “The kid’s a trooper, though. I thought he’d crash way before now. Rory did everything I did.”
“He claims he wants to be a rancher when he grows up.”
“Too bad he’ll miss the chance thanks to his jerk of a dad.”
“Yeah.” Colt drifted into moody silence.
Although they moved slowly, the men beat Summer to the rail pens. Colt rode in close to Trace, who’d sent Lancelot out to close up the stragglers. “I hope nothing happened to delay Summer on the way home. This mob won’t be easy to contain for long.”
“I see a tallyman free at the fourth set of empty pens. I know enough to start the tally process. I’ll count noses. You and Lancelot drive them down the chute.” Trace hauled out the pad he’d used to deposit Summer’s grain.
The first steers headed into the chute without a hitch. A few minutes later, Colt realized the tallyman was hassling Trace. Leaving Lancelot to watch the restless herd, Colt rode over to see what had caused the holdup. To his surprise, the tallyman was none other than Frank Marsh, who’d yanked Trace from his saddle and had him shoved up against the fence. Frank was dialing his cell phone.
“Hey,” Colt yelled. “What in hell are you doing?”
Trace looked shaken. “This dude thinks we rustled these cows.”
Frank shot an angry glance at Colt. “Haven’t I seen you someplace?”
“At White’s bar. I had a beer there the night…you persuaded your wife’s wranglers to take a powder. Next day, I signed on as her foreman,” Colt said, his anger coming through loud and clear. “Now, take your hands off Tracey. He works for Summer, too.”
Frank turned mottled red at Colt’s unsubtle accusation. But he disconnected his call. “Watch who you’re accusing, rube. I’ll sue you for slander.”
“Go ahead and try. I’m sure it’ll be an easy matter to get statements from the wranglers who found jobs at one of Ed Adams’s resorts.”
Frank’s florid color faded to green as Summer drove up, spewing gravel. Jumping out of her pickup, she laid into Frank for stalling her herd.
Colt would have liked to fight her battle. Instead, he stepped aside as any foreman would, and let his boss take over. Frank backed down without so much as a whimper. He became almost ingratiatingly sweet.
“Trace and I will run a separate tally, Frank. You’d better not short me one steer, do you understand? What are you doing working the yard, anyhow?”
“The judge in Burns advised me to take a job, remember? By the way, did you receive notice of my custody appeal last week?” He smiled, watching Summer’s color drain.
“You know very well I’m in the middle of roundup, Frank.” Light dawned suddenly. “You’re trying to delay my gathering and selling the herd.”
“You’ll have a difficult time proving that, Summer. Perry plans to call witnesses who’ll testify how you neglect Rory in order to keep your precious ranch running.”
“I’ve never neglected Rory,” she sputtered. “Never, Frank.”
Colt set a hand on her shoulder, to brace her against Frank’s verbal assault. “Get us a new tallyman,” Colt demanded of a man in the next chute. “One who doesn’t have an ax to grind.”
It obviously wasn’t lost on Frank that his ex leaned into the protective curve of Colt’s arm. “Well, well,” he said, his smile faltering but still in place. “To think I told Perry he was wasting time trying to dig up dirt on you, Summer. I said you were the original Ms. Goody Two-shoes.”
Colt released Summer and grabbed Frank by his shirt-front. “Pot calling the kettle black, Marsh? You’re living with your Realtor friend. I don’t think that’ll play well in family court.”
Frank jerked free. “I was a guest in Jill’s home after my dear wife threw me out. Sorry to wreck that theory, but while you and Summer have been playing footsie, I’ve moved into my own apartment.” Frank motioned another tallyman over. Before the man actually arrived, Frank turned to Summer. “Perry’s covered all the bases. Too bad Larkin Crosley’s such a bumbler.”
Frank handed his clipboard to the new arrival. Summer barely pulled herself together enough to state her name and ranch brand.
Colt retreated, furious with the man. Thank God for Trace and Lancelot. They managed to get the herd down the chute. And when they finished, Trace drove them home.
Summer sat silently in the truck, tears streaking her face. She refused to be consoled by Colt.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
COLT STEPPED OUT FROM a most welcome shower. He grabbed a towel and started to dry off when a noise made him pause. Was someone knocking at his door? He opened the bathroom door and stuck his head into the hall. Yes, definitely knocking.
“Coming,” he called, knotting the towel around his waist. He was surprised when he opened the door to find Summer on his doorstep. She, too, had showered. Her hair hung in damp curls. She wore furry slippers and a long, ice-blue robe.
As Colt thrust open the screen to allow her entry, she pulled back.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your shower.” She looked like a nervous child, the way she shifted from foot to foot.
“Come in and have coffee. I started a pot before I went in to shower. Is everything okay at home?” Colt asked cautiously. “Rory’s all right? Audrey, Virgil?”
She slipped in past him, careful not to touch his bare skin. She appeared even more uneasy once she was fully inside and the door closed. “They’re asleep. At least Rory and Audrey are. She dozed off on the couch and didn’t wake up even though I banged around upstairs. I…uh…needed to talk to someone about Frank’s threat. Colt,” she said, brushing a wayward lock of hair away from her face, “I’m so angry at him I could spit. But I’m petrified he’ll take Rory away, for spite if nothing else. I can’t live without Rory. I can’t, Coltrane.”
Colt clasped her against his chest. He felt her rigid back yield at the moment of contact. Tears she’d been holding in began to flow.
Between snuffles, she stammered, “What if the judge doesn’t understand that ranching might be hard but it’s a good life? Frank would plunk Rory in a huge house set on a golf course, with tennis courts and a swimming pool. People who live like that lavish their kids with excess. They have things, but they don’t learn any respect for the land. A judge could agree with Frank. Some city folks consider ranching plain drudgery.”
Colt wrapped her tighter, murmuring soft words in her ear. He lulled her into silence and an occasional hic-cough, until finally she uncurled her hands and wiped at the tears she’d spilled on his left shoulder.
“I know Frank’s using Rory to force me to sell to Mr. Adams before my six-month extension is up. Maybe I ought to just give in. With my portion, I could maybe buy a smaller ranch. Of course, it wouldn’t be here, where generations of Callans have lived and d-died.” Her tears erupted again.
This time Colt kissed them away. He wished he could tell her about the plan he’d been hatching for the last two days. According to his plan, she and SOS would enter into a partnership, with Summer as lifetime steward. She’d be able to pass her stewardship on to Rory if he, too, agreed to ranch by SOS guidelines, which were designed to preserve the wildlife and the environment. But he still had to present the idea to Gabe and Marley. Colt needed time to convince them that Summer would make as good a caretaker as the government. Until then, all he could do was kiss her worries away. He put his heart and soul into doing just that.
Colt’s onslaught of kisses slowly drove coherent thought from Summer’s mind. Beneath her hands, his bare chest radiated heat, and a responding warmth stole along her previously cold limbs.
When Colt scooped her up and carried her through the door into his bedroom—to a bed already turned down—she found no reason to object. She didn’t want to object.
“I can’t stay the night,” she whispered as he put her down in the old-fashioned double bed.
Staring at her out of eyes gone smoky with desire, Colt loosened her robe with one hand while he placed two fingers over her lips. “Consider any time we have together a gift, Summer. For this hour, nothing in the world matters. Just you. Just me. Just us.”
His words left Summer melting, and as Colt’s towel fell away, she felt overdressed in her white flannel nightie.
Not for long. Colt kissed his way to her toes. On a return trip to her mouth, her nightgown magically disappeared. “You have fast hands,” she teased with a lazy smile.
“You have soft skin. Too soft to hide.”
She shivered in delight. In all her married life, Frank never made her feel that her body was anything more than serviceable. She wanted Colt to know there was no comparison between that and the way he made her feel. All she managed was to gasp his name. He cupped his hand around the back of her head and claimed her mouth in a fierce, heady kiss that dissolved her bones.
The bed, the walls, everything disappeared. Only the man remained. The hot, hard crush of his lips. The welcome weight of his body pressed to hers. His heart hammering against her breasts, in her ears, until her blood roared.
Summer embraced the escape from reason Colt offered her tonight. Nothing existed at this moment except one man…who possessed her so completely she forgot the Forked Lightning with its mountain of problems.
Coltrane’s clever, lightly callused fingers coaxed Summer into a frenzy that left his crisp sheets in a sweaty tangle around them. He finally entered her when she was ready to beg—ready to die—from wanting….
And suddenly she was there. She’d reached that place where only love existed.
Summer emerged slowly from an exquisite floating sensation. She’d registered the moment Colt’s delicious weight slid to one side, off her. Vaguely she knew he’d covered them with a sheet and tucked her into a comforting embrace. It was when she became fully cognizant again and turned her head to speak that she discovered he was dead to the world. He’d fallen asleep. Totally and deeply.
Wide Open Spaces (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 18