Buck’s knuckles were white around the beer bottle, but to his credit, he smiled and turned his attention back on Pardee. “I imagine my daddy and my grandfather would say that I should do whatever I need to.”
“Because you’re going under?” Pardee threw his head back and gave an evil laugh. “I never thought you had a head for business. But my offer still stands. I’ll buy you out at any time. Just say the word.”
“There ain’t a snowball’s chance in the desert that I’d ever sell to you.” Buck casually took a sip of beer, then put the bottle on the bar. “Now, let’s quit this conversation and get back to the party.”
“Are you stupid, boy? I said I’d buy you out.” Pardee’s voice boomed over the crowd as a priest hurried over.
“Mr. Pardee, I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink,” the priest said. “Maybe one of your friends should drive you home.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Father Dolan,” Buck said, walking away.
“Don’t turn your back on me, Buck Porter,” Pardee yelled, grabbing Buck’s arm.
“Let go of me, Pardee. Or let’s take this outside,” Buck said, his voice low and controlled.
It all happened so fast, Merry couldn’t tell who threw the first punch, but she was able to save a beautiful lemon meringue pie just before the dessert table collapsed from Buck’s and Pardee’s weight.
A dozen men rushed across the dance floor and jerked up Pardee and his henchmen, holding back their arms.
Red-faced, Pardee lunged at Buck, but the men held him back. “I’ll be there at the tax auction, Porter, and I’m going to buy your ranch right out from under you.”
Chapter Fourteen
M erry hurried to Buck and checked for broken bones to assure herself that he was all right. She’d been worried about him. Pardee outweighed Buck by a good forty pounds, but Buck had held his own.
His shirt was torn, and he had a red mark on his chest. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
“No, I’m okay.” He tried to wink, but flinched in pain.
His eye was puffy, and she gently moved his chin to get a closer look. “You’re going to have a black eye.”
She didn’t know what else to do to help him, so she picked up a stack of napkins that had slid to the floor and eyed his shirt. “Let me get some of this mess off you.”
“Forget it. It’s hopeless.”
He slipped out of his shirt that was covered in frosting and pudding and whatever, and wadded it into a ball. There were more red marks on his chest and arms. She let out a breath of frustration, hating to see his beautiful body all bruised and battered.
“I’m fine.” He took her hands and held them. He smiled. “Thanks for worrying about me, though.”
She nodded. “Of course I worried about you. I don’t want you hurt.”
He looked pleased to hear that. Probably because no one ever worried about Buck. He always seemed so strong and capable.
Inez and Sarah appeared with cleaning supplies and shook their heads as they saw the massive mess on the floor.
“What’ll we do for dessert now?” Sarah asked.
“First, someone signal the band to start playing,” Merry said, springing into action. “And let’s get a crew together to clean up the mess. I’ll need another crew to help me in the kitchen—I have a plan.” She turned to Buck. “I think you’d better get cleaned up yourself. It’s all over your jeans.”
“Come with me,” said Father Dolan, leading Buck away.
Inez and Sarah made quick work of drafting volunteers. Ten people joined Meredith in the kitchen.
Merry looked around at the contents of the cupboards and the refrigerator. Then she spotted exactly what she needed: two bushels of apples. “Are those for anything special?”
Inez shook her head. “I brought them back from my trip to Washington State for whoever wanted them.”
“Apple crisp,” Merry decided. “Let’s make that. It’ll bake quickly if we put it in shallow pans. We just need a bunch of people to cut and peel apples.”
“Count me in,” Ty said, then turned to the volunteers around him. “Right?”
“Right,” everyone agreed.
“Great. Cait and I will make the topping,” Merry said, grabbing sugar, flour and cinnamon from the cupboards. “Right, Cait?”
“Right. I’ll help you, Merry.”
Ty’s jaw dropped when he heard Cait answer, and Merry gave him a wink. He mouthed the words “I love you” to Merry, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’ll have some vanilla ice cream delivered from my shop,” said a man in a red flannel shirt.
Everyone got into the spirit of things and the many pairs of hands made quick work out of the apple crisp. Soon the smell of apples and cinnamon scented the air.
An hour later, the apple crisp was a hit: “especially since it was made by Meredith Bingham Turner and her assistant, Caitlin Porter,” Inez said over the band’s microphone.
Merry saw Cait grin when the spectators started clapping, and she didn’t hide her face. If only Buck were there to see her!
What a night, Merry thought later as she cleaned up the kitchen. The Lizard Rock Cowboys had everyone up for a two-step but the crowd was thinning.
Buck stepped into the kitchen with a cheerful “hello,” and Merry couldn’t stop laughing as she studied him.
He was fresh from a shower, and he wore a football jersey of bright Kelly-green with “Lizards” written across his chest in yellow. The shirt didn’t quite reach his stomach, so she could see his tight stomach muscles above the waistband. The stretchy pants clung to his muscular thighs.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“Courtesy of Father Dolan, and the Lizards’ football team.”
Her eyes traveled down his hard thighs and she laughed. “Cowboy boots instead of spikes?”
“Pretty bad, huh?” He looked down at his legs, where the football pants ended and his black boot tops began. He laughed, then sobered when he looked at her. “I’m sorry if I spoiled your evening, Merry.”
“Spoiled my evening? Absolutely not. I had a great time.” And she had. She’d met a lot of wonderful people and collected a lot of great recipes. And she’d never forget how touched she’d been when she watched Buck dance with Cait.
“Ty said you haven’t left the kitchen since the fight.”
“That’s not true. Cait and I helped serve the apple crisp.”
“You got Cait to do that?” Buck’s heart melted. “Another miracle by Merry.”
Through the serving window, he watched as Cait held up a piece of yarn. A small kitten jumped for it as Cait laughed.
“You really saved the day,” he continued. “Inez and Sarah will be talking about it for years.” He tried to hook his thumbs in his belt loops, but there were none, so he gave up. “But you never even danced.”
She dried one of the big pans that they used for the apple crisp and set it down. “Nope. These boots are still scoot-free and the Lizard Rock Cowboys just signed off for the evening.”
“We can’t have that. I brought you here to dance, so we should dance.” He turned on an old blue radio that sat on a shelf over the sink. After some fiddling, George Strait’s unmistakable voice came over the radio.
“I really don’t know how to two-step, Buck. It wasn’t a recognized dance at the Phillips School on Beacon Hill. Let’s wait for a waltz.”
“Just follow me,” he instructed, sliding a hand around her waist, and intertwining his other hand with hers. “Yeow,” he said, none too quietly as she stepped on his feet. “Will you relax?”
She chuckled as she stepped on them again. “Oops…sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s why cowboys wear boots.”
“You should get steel-toed ones if you’re going to dance with me.”
She was getting the hang of the two-step just as George sang his last note, but Buck didn’t make a move to let her go. He swayed with her in his arms
to a tractor commercial. Gazing up into his eyes, she saw something there. Something she couldn’t define.
As if by magic a slow song came on the radio, and he held her tighter. She noticed that Buck was breathing as hard as she was.
Threading her fingers through his hair, she felt him tense, then he bent over and crushed his lips to hers. Her hands moved lightly under the jersey, across his chest. She didn’t want to aggravate any injuries he may have. His skin was warm and smooth, and she let her palms rest against his nipples.
Boldly, she kissed him, feeling his power surge under her palms as he kissed her back. His tongue stroked the length of hers and her knees buckled. He pulled her tighter.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said.
“I’ll miss you, too.” She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to feel his lips on hers.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me,” he said. Without meeting her eyes, he took a deep breath and adjusted the waistband of the football pants. “It’s getting late. I’ll get Ty and Cait, and pull the truck around front.” He turned to leave.
She was stunned by his sudden departure. Was he having regrets? “Wait, Buck. I’d like to talk to you about something.”
He turned back and waited.
“I found out that the kitten Cait is playing with is available for adoption. It belongs to a Mrs. Prestin. She’s sitting over there.” Merry nodded to the far corner of the hall. “She’s counting up the proceeds with Inez Gunderson. She tells me that this is the only kitten that hasn’t been adopted from the litter. Let Cait have it. Please, Buck?”
He didn’t know why he didn’t think of getting her a cat before. “Sure, she can have it, but she has to take care of it.”
“She will.”
Merry was as excited as if she were getting the cat herself.
“Go tell her. I want to see her reaction.”
He took her hand. “Come with me.”
“She’ll be so excited, Buck.” Merry hesitated. “But it should be a private moment between you and Cait.”
“And you’re the one I want to share it with. Come on.”
Buck and Merry sat down on the floor of the hall and watched Cait play with her new kitten.
Buck smoothed his daughter’s hair back and rubbed her cheek with a finger. Merry saw that he was blinking back tears.
He picked up the little ball of fluff and handed it to his little girl. Her hands reached out to take it and she buried her face in its gray fur. She kissed it between the ears and looked up at him, then at Merry.
“I hope you enjoy your new kitten, sweetie,” Buck said.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
As he looked at his daughter’s happy face, Buck squeezed Merry’s hand.
Then he whispered in Merry’s ear, “My little girl called me Daddy. I’ve waited two years to hear that again.”
Merry squeezed his hand and wished she were able to give him a kiss.
Buck looked through the stack of saguaro ribs he had in a wooden barrel in the corner of the barn. He needed a certain circumference to match the ones he’d lined up for the door of the cabinet he was working on.
It was one o’clock in the morning, and he knew he’d never be able to sleep—not with Meredith Bingham Turner on his mind.
The door squeaked open and automatically his eyes sought out the holster that he had hooked over a corner of Bandit’s stall, but he relaxed when out of the corner of an eye he saw Merry walk in.
“Buck?”
“Yeah?” He turned to face her. He knew he’d have to tell her what’d been on his mind sooner or later, might as well be sooner.
“You walked out here in the dark? That’s pretty brave for a city slicker, considering that a snake crossing runs in front of the house. Didn’t you see the sign?”
“Very funny.” She lifted her long bathrobe and showed him her boots. “I saw the light on, and I thought you might be here. I wanted to talk to you.”
“Go right ahead.” He brushed the dust and hay off of a metal chair and motioned for her to sit down. He sat on a bale of hay opposite her. But she didn’t sit. Instead she inspected the cabinet he was making.
“This is just exquisite!” She turned and stared at him, her mouth gaping open. “Why…why…you’re the one who made all the furniture in the house, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“The tree bed, too?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Buck, I love the tree bed!”
“Thanks. It’s my favorite, too.” At least it was now, since every time he looked at it, he’d remember how they’d made love in it.
She ran the palm of her hand across the top of the cabinet, and Buck remembered the way her hands had felt on his chest in the kitchen of the church. He took a deep breath, wondering how to tell her everything that was in his heart, wondering if he could ever ask her to stay, wondering if she’d ever be happy on the ranch.
“This is beautiful craftsmanship. You are so talented. You’re an artist, just like your mother.”
He was proud of his work and proud that she thought of him as an artist. “I just like to putter,” he said humbly. “I can look at a pile of wood and see it as a cabinet or a dresser or a bookcase.”
“Just like your mother could look at a white canvas and make it come to life.”
Damn, she makes me feel good.
She turned to him with a surprised expression on her face. “This is your Scottsdale project, isn’t it? You’re making furniture to sell at a gallery.”
He nodded.
“You have more pieces?”
“A couple dozen or so.”
“Can I see them?”
“Sure.”
She followed him to the corner of the barn where he had everything stored. He lifted the drop cloths for her as she examined each piece, touching the wood, opening the doors of the cabinets and the drawers.
“Everything is just…so unique. Just beautiful. I want to buy it all.” Turning to him, she said, “You’ll make a fortune.”
“Good. That’s my plan.”
“Buck, why didn’t you tell me? I never thought that you made those pieces in the house. I thought that someone else…Why on earth didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged. “I guess I never thought it was a big deal.”
She shook her head. “It is a big deal. It’s another side of you that I wish I’d known.”
She went over to a white drop cloth draped over his most valued possession. “Is this another masterpiece? Can I take a peek?”
“It’s a masterpiece, but it’s not what you think.”
Puzzled, she hesitated.
“Go ahead,” he said.
She gave a yank and there it was, gleaming in the overhead light. He had just finished dusting it off and shining it up.
“The motorcycle your grandfather gave you?”
He nodded. “It’s a 1948 Panhead. The first Harley made with a special motor. You see, the motor is…Well, it’s not important.”
His gut constricted. He wanted her to cover it back up. He couldn’t stand looking at it any longer.
“It looks brand-new,” Merry said.
“I’ve kept it mint. And, like I said before, I haven’t had time to ride it much. Not lately, anyway.” He took the drop cloth and covered the bike back up.
She looked up at him with those big green eyes. “I know what you mean. I don’t have time for anything I like to do, either.”
“And what would you like to do, Meredith Bingham Turner?”
She sat on the chair, and he sat on the hay. “What’s your dream?”
“Hmm…” She stretched and her eyes closed. “I’d like to bake and cook and experiment with new recipes. I don’t want to do it as part of my business anymore. Just for myself and for someone who appreciates it. I’d really like to fire Joanne. And I thought about what you said a lot, and I don’t want to beat my head against a wall anymore trying to please my parents or the public. And
I want to make my new talk show a success.”
“Good for you.” Buck clapped. “Go for it.”
She stood up and took a bow. “Now, what’s your dream, Bucklin Floyd Porter?”
“Sometimes I’d like to jump on that Harley and ride off into the sunset for a while. I think that I need a break from the Rattlesnake, sad to say. And then there’s the stock contracting, like I told you before. I’d like to have a go at that. And I’d like to hire a good foreman to take care of some of the small stuff on the ranch, so I could spend more time making furniture. I like doing it.” He ticked all his wishes off on his fingers. “And if by some chance I won the lottery, I’d buy out Karen and Lou and Ty and let them follow their dreams.”
Her eyes were as wide as saucers. “You know that they don’t want to stay on at the ranch?” She shook her head. “And they thought that they were keeping everything such a secret.”
“Of course I know. I know that Karen wants to start a nursery-and-landscaping business in town. I know that Ty wants to wander a bit and find himself. And I know that Louise wants her own law firm.”
Merry smiled. “Boy, your family sure can’t keep secrets.”
“I know they help out on the ranch because of me.”
“You’ve done a lot for them, Buck. Every one of them.”
“But it’s because I wanted to. They don’t owe me. They don’t owe me a thing.”
“Have you ever told them that?”
No. He admitted to himself that he never had. “I guess I should. I think they need to follow their own dreams, not mine.”
She stood and held out her hands to him. They felt small and delicate in his and he closed his big, callused hands around hers. He wanted to protect her forever, from the tabloids, from anyone who could hurt her.
“Don’t sell the land by the river, Buck. I think your furniture business will be a real success,” she said. “I really wish you’d told me about it earlier. We could have done a segment on it.”
“I’m a rancher, not a furniture-maker.”
“You’re both.”
“Maybe, but if you think this stuff will sell, I’ll wait and see how the sale turns out. Maybe I’ll get some orders and I can show the bank that I’m not a lost cause.”
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