by Amelia Autin
She ran her hand up under the back of her hair and found it almost dry, then stood up and checked her appearance in the dresser mirror. A different woman looked back at her than the one who’d entered this room last night. More confident. More assured.
The doubts weren’t completely gone, nor the guilt, but she’d locked them away where they couldn’t hurt her. Or Gideon. Or his children. And that’s where they were going to stay.
* * *
At first Gideon waited for Rennie in the restaurant despite what she’d told him. He read the local newspaper and drank a cup of black coffee, expecting her to arrive at any moment. But at last he gave in to the rumblings in his stomach. After a quick perusal of the menu, he ordered the Early Bird Special—two eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast, juice and coffee. He also requested a side order of ham, a large glass of milk and a bowl of oatmeal.
When breakfast arrived before Rennie did, Gideon folded the newspaper and devoted himself to the serious business of eating. He was just finishing the oatmeal when something made him look up.
Rennie had entered the restaurant. Gideon watched her speak to the hostess then turn to where he sat in the far corner, slightly screened from view by a large plant. As she walked toward him he noted that the limp was gone, but that wasn’t the only thing different about her this morning. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Her hair was the same riot of curls. She hadn’t added any more makeup than she usually wore so far as he could see. And her clothes weren’t anything out of the ordinary, just jeans and a soft sweater. But the reddish-purple color set off her creamy skin, and matched the warm tint of her lips.
Still, there was something else about her. Maybe it was her expression. She looked more determined, somehow. And jaunty. Yeah, that was it. There was a liveliness to her that hadn’t been there before.
He stood up when she reached his table, and waited for her to be seated before sitting down again.
“Good morning.” Rennie’s smile lit up her entire face.
“Mornin’.”
A waitress appeared with a coffeepot, filled Rennie’s cup and topped off Gideon’s, then asked Rennie if she was ready to order.
“I’ll have a bowl of fruit and a slice of wheat bread,” Rennie said. “Cracked wheat, if you have it. Toasted, no butter.”
Gideon waited until the waitress left before asking, “Is that all you’re having?”
Rennie made a face at him. “I’m puny, remember? It doesn’t take much to keep me going.”
“Guess that rankled,” Gideon said as he started on his bacon and eggs.
“What rankled?”
“Calling you puny that first day.”
She wrinkled her nose in consideration. “Yes,” she said finally. “It did. But I called you a mountain, so I guess we’re even. How’s the bacon?”
“Good.”
“Hickory-smoked?” Her tone was wistful.
His lips curled up at the edges but he controlled himself. “No, sugar-cured.”
“Oh.” There was a wealth of meaning in that little word.
The eyes Gideon raised to Rennie’s were dancing. “Would you like a piece?”
“No, thank you.” But she gazed longingly at the bacon on his plate when she thought he wasn’t looking.
Gideon forked a bite and chewed with gusto. Rennie’s eyes followed his every move. He cut another piece.
“Sure you don’t want any?”
“Oh, no,” she assured him. “My breakfast should be here soon.” But she swallowed when Gideon did and her stomach growled audibly.
Gideon finished his eggs and bacon with the last of his toast, then made serious inroads into his hash browns. He washed that down with a gulp of coffee and started on the ham.
Rennie fiddled with her napkin, stirred artificial sweetener into her black coffee, then placed the spoon just so on the saucer. “How’s the ham?”
He choked and swallowed. “Good.”
“Sugar-cured?”
“No.” He bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Hickory-smoked.”
“Oh.”
Gideon chuckled. He couldn’t help it. “Would you like some?”
“Oh, no. I’m sure my breakfast will be here any minute.” Rennie glanced anxiously at the kitchen door. “I don’t know what’s taking so long.”
Gideon’s body shook with repressed laughter. He speared a bite and held it to her lips. “Rennie, eat the damn ham.”
She started to shake her head, then chuckled. “Since you put it that way, how can I refuse?” She took his offering.
The kitchen door swung open and their waitress came out. She deposited Rennie’s toast and fruit in front of her and left.
As he sipped his juice Gideon watched Rennie cut her plain piece of toast into four neat triangles, which she then proceeded to daintily gobble down.
“Explain something to me.”
“Hmm?”
“If you wanted ham or bacon, why didn’t you just order it?”
Rennie spooned a bite of cantaloupe and ate it before responding. “Would you believe I’m a vegetarian?”
Gideon distinctly remembered Rennie ordering chicken the night before. “No.”
“Well, how about this. I gave them up for Lent.”
That took a moment, then Gideon shook his head. “Lent is in February and March. ‘Fess up, Rennie. What’s the real reason?”
Rennie considered the question for a moment, then her eyes turned soulful. “When I was Trina’s age, I won a shoat in a contest at the county fair. He was so little and cute and cuddly, I named him Squeaker. He was the first animal that belonged to me alone, and I was responsible for taking care of him.” She smiled as if at fond memories. “Squeaker was so tame and so attached to me he followed me around like a little puppy. Even when he grew to be bigger than I was he still thought himself small enough to sit on my lap.”
“What happened?” Gideon was pretty sure he knew where this story was leading and his throat tightened just a bit.
“The next year my mother took me into Billings one Saturday in October. When we came home, I raced down to Squeaker’s pen to see him. He was gone. My parents told me Squeaker must have gotten out somehow. I didn’t believe them, but what could I do? I cried myself to sleep that night. I moped around the ranch for weeks afterward, waiting for Squeaker to come home, but he never did.”
She sighed dramatically. “I never found out what happened to Squeaker, but—” Rennie’s eyes narrowed as she added darkly “—it sure looked suspicious to me that we had a lot of ham and bacon around our house that winter.”
Gideon’s throat ached for that younger Rennie. He looked at the remains of the ham on the platter, then pushed it away. His eyes were on Rennie’s downturned face as he reached across the table and patted her hand consolingly as if she were still as young as Trina.
Her mouth quivered and Rennie raised her napkin to cover her face, but not before he’d seen her eyes. Suddenly Gideon knew he’d been had.
“Damn!” He jerked his hand away, feeling foolish.
Rennie convulsed into giggles that she muffled behind her napkin. Her eyes peeped at him, inviting Gideon to share the humor, and he laughed reluctantly.
“You never had a hog named Squeaker, did you?”
She shook her head, her eyes twinkling. She replaced her napkin in her lap. “And if I had, my father never would have butchered it. He doted on me.”
“I should have known. Did he ever put you over his knee and give you the spankings you undoubtedly deserved?”
“No. He left that to my mother. Are you going to finish that ham?”
Gideon glanced down at the platter he’d pushed to one side. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he said, suiting his actions to his words. “And no, you can’t have any more.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“Like you didn’t ask before?” He polished off the last bite. “So, are you going to tell me the real reason, or not?”
Rennie smiled. “I don’t want to g
et fat.”
Gideon ran his eyes over her slender frame. “And you’re so dangerously close to the edge already,” he teased.
She laughed again, delighted with his teasing. “No, but I’m so short I do have to watch what I eat.” Rennie leaned toward him slightly and her voice dropped a notch as if she were sharing a secret. “The thing is, Gideon,” she confided, “if it’s not on my plate, it doesn’t count.”
“Is that how it works?”
Rennie nodded solemnly. “That’s one of the basic laws of dieting. That, and crumbs.”
“Crumbs?”
“It’s a scientific fact that crumbs have no calories. I can crumb my way through an entire bag of chocolate chip cookies.”
Laughter rumbled out of Gideon’s chest in an uncontrollable rush as he envisioned her doing just that. Damn, but Rennie was good for him! He’d laughed more in the last twenty-four hours than in the past twenty-four months.
Rennie leaned back. “So you see, as long as I watch what I eat and follow those basic rules I’m okay. But if I ate everything I’d like to have, I’d soon be—”
“As big as Squeaker?”
“Exactly.” She beamed at him.
He grinned. “You sure had me going there for a while.”
“Sorry. I never thought you’d actually believe me or I never would have spun you that tale.”
“That’s okay.”
Rennie giggled as she remembered his expression. She couldn’t help it. “If you could have seen your face! I never thought a rancher would get so sentimental over the death of an animal, and a hog at that.”
Gideon chuckled. “Pretty silly, I guess.” He shook his head at her. “You sure can tell a convincing tale.”
Rennie finished the last of her fruit. “I’ve had a lot of practice. I used to tell stories to the children in the hospital while I was there. That and magic tricks were my big draw.”
He eyed her suspiciously over his coffee cup. “Is that the truth or just another tall tale?”
“No, that’s the truth. I spent a lot of time with the kids in the hospital.” She smiled at him and changed the subject. “What would you like to do today?”
Gideon wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned back in his chair, hooking an elbow over the back. “How’s your hip this morning?”
“Fine.”
“How long has it been since you were on a horse?”
“About two years.” Rennie tilted her head. “Why?”
“Do you feel up to taking a little ride? I checked with the desk clerk. She said there’s a place we can rent horses about fifteen miles outside of town. We can pick up a few things at the grocery store to take along for a picnic lunch.”
“Sounds like fun. Where will we go?”
“The desk clerk told me about a trail leading to a deserted mining town farther up the mountain.”
Rennie’s eyes lit up. “A ghost town?”
Gideon smiled. “Something like that.”
“Let’s do it!”
“If you haven’t been on a horse in two years you’ll probably be sore tomorrow.”
“I don’t care. It’ll be worth it.”
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Outside, Gideon checked the sky. The clouds he saw held no threat of rain or snow, the last being something that was still a possibility even though it was May. Instead, it looked to be a perfect day for horseback riding. The sun would dissipate the chilliness in the air by mid-morning, but the clouds would keep them from getting too hot.
The sun had risen while they were in the restaurant, coloring the sky peach and palest blue. Gideon had never told anyone, but Wyoming sunrises always made him think of babies. Soft, fragile and innocent. Of all the things he’d seen in his life there were three things he never tired of: the sight of his children sleeping, Wyoming sunrises and Wyoming sunsets. If forced, he could exist elsewhere; he could only live in Wyoming.
They stopped to pick up jackets they might need later, and Rennie changed her tennis shoes for boots while Gideon called the horse ranch for exact directions. On the way out of town they also stopped at the convenience store for some ready-made sandwiches, fruit, a bag of cookies and a six-pack of soda.
As he was paying, Gideon glanced over at Rennie browsing through the paperback books on a rack by the door.
“Just a second,” he told the salesclerk, and moved to the stack of inexpensive straw hats in the aisle next to the counter. He picked out the smallest one he could find, then strode to Rennie’s side and clapped it on her head.
Startled, she turned around.
“You need a hat,” he told her by way of explanation. “How does that one fit?”
Rennie adjusted it, then nodded and smiled. “It’s fine.”
She had no idea what a captivating picture she made, almost as appealing to Gideon in her casual clothes as she had been yesterday in a fancy dress. Her eyes were sparkling in anticipation, and once again Gideon felt that tug of attraction.
She made him feel good. Damn good. He’d risen this morning more cheerful than he’d felt in a long time, despite waking in the same half-aroused state he’d gone to sleep in. Maybe his dreams of Rennie last night had something to do with it.
Gideon smiled at the memory and dragged his eyes away from Rennie. “Add that on,” he told the salesclerk.
They headed out of town.
Behind the wheel again, Gideon drove for a couple of minutes, enjoying the power and responsiveness of Rennie’s little sports car. “This is a nice car,” he said.
“Yes, but it’s not very practical for a family. I’m thinking about trading it in for something more suitable.”
“Don’t.” The word slipped out before Gideon could prevent it. Rennie looked over at him and he confessed, “I’ve always dreamed of driving a car like this. Completely impractical, totally unsuitable for a rancher.” He grinned like a sixteen-year-old. “But I’ll bet it could do one-seventy on the open road.”
Rennie shook her head at him but smiled. Another chink in Gideon’s armor revealed the boy inside the man and Rennie was charmed yet again.
“If you’ll keep this car and let me drive it sometimes, I’ll buy you another one for everyday use. The Blazer the housekeepers used is on its last legs, anyway, so I’ll get you a new one. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“That reminds me. When we get back home we need to sit down and discuss finances. The ranch has charge accounts at a couple of the stores in Carter’s Junction and in Sheridan, but we’ll need to get you added as a signer on my personal checking account for grocery shopping and such.”
“Where do you do your shopping?”
“For groceries we usually go to Sheridan. The selection in Carter’s Junction isn’t very big. For the rest, it depends. Some things we just have to order, and we have those shipped to Carter’s Junction.”
Having exhausted that topic, they drove in silence for a couple of minutes. They almost missed the battered sign indicating the turnoff for their destination. Gideon braked sharply, his right arm instinctively thrust out to keep Rennie from being thrown forward. She gave him an odd look but refrained from saying anything.
He turned the wheel and they exited the highway. A cattle guard rattled beneath the small car as they drove over it and down a slight incline. The dirt road they were now on was in surprisingly good shape, with no deep ruts, but was still rough enough to jostle the car’s occupants, though Gideon reduced their speed even further. Low-slung sports cars just weren’t made to handle dirt roads. A plume of dust followed them as they wound their way through the hilly terrain.
A short distance later they came to a gate across the road and Gideon pulled up in front of it. Before he could open his door, Rennie was out of the car. He watched her unlatch the gate and push it open, enjoying the way her jeans molded to her body. Her sweater was a different matter. Loose-fitting, it only hinted at the delicate curves beneath, but he had a good imagination. Too g
ood. He wondered how long she would make him wait before consummating their marriage. Not long, he hoped. Not long.
He drove through the opened gate, and she closed it behind him, carefully securing the gate latch, then got back in the car.
“Thanks.” It was the passenger’s job to open and close gates on a ranch and Rennie seemed to know it as well as he did, but the little courtesy came naturally to him.
She ran her fingers through her hair, which had been blown awry by the wind. He watched her for a few seconds, then reached across and brushed an errant curl away from her cheek. The desire to kiss her came out of nowhere. A memory teased him as it had last evening—the softness of her lips under his when he’d kissed her at their wedding. He wondered what she’d do if he kissed her now.
Instead of finding out, he turned away from temptation and put the car into gear.
Chapter 6
A few minutes later they spotted the outbuildings of the ranch. When Gideon pulled up and parked in front of the ranch house, he said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
So Rennie waited in the car while Gideon stood on the porch and dickered with the owner. At one point Gideon gestured toward her, and she gave the two men a smile and a little wave. Then the men headed for the barn closest to the house and disappeared inside.
Rennie sorted through her purse for a comb and a few other things that she thought she might need, and tucked them into the pockets of her jacket. After a moment she undid her seat belt and reached over to the back seat, digging into the grocery bag there. She found an apple and slid it into her jacket pocket, too.
She impatiently tapped her fingers against the window, but Gideon didn’t reappear, so her thoughts wandered. Even though she was really looking forward to this ride, and to sharing with Gideon something they both loved, part of her was already thinking ahead, worrying about tomorrow and what would happen when they went home.
Home.
It was funny in a way, but Rennie truly had felt as if she’d come home the first time she’d driven onto the Rocking L. The sights, the sounds, even the smells—they’d all given her a sense of déjà vu. Even though the animals dotting the countryside were sheep and not the cattle she was used to, even though the semimountainous terrain was not the more familiar, flatter expanse of her beloved Circle F, Rennie had known she’d come home. This was where she belonged. This was the life she’d hungered for all those years in Los Angeles.