Rugged

by Tatiana March

  Jed strode back to the tractor and got into the driver’s seat.

  “How many more pastures?” Rachel asked.

  “Three.” He started the engine and rolled along the snow-covered trail.

  The weather had been cold all week. He’d waited for a milder day for Rachel to accompany him. Her childish excitement when the cows came running as soon as he tossed down the bales of hay brought enjoyment to the mundane task.

  “No problems with frozen water?’ she asked.

  “No.”

  He’d told her about the miles of underground pipes to deliver the water, and the fields where he put up enough alfalfa to feed the herd. The economics of ranching interested her the most. She’d been troubled to understand that to raise a calf he had to spend almost half its value on feed and shelter, and on keeping the livestock free of disease.

  Instead of returning to the cabin, Rachel now lived in his house.

  Every night they made love.

  His thirst to learn every inch of her body, every nuance of her response to his touch, showed no sign of abating after a week of intimacy. Jed had decided to abandon his caution. He’d let himself love her, enjoy having her in his life, and worry about the future when he had to.

  And yet, he couldn’t suppress the hope that grew like a weed inside him, seizing his mind during moments of weakness. He dreamed that Rachel would fall in love with him, forsake her own world, and stay in his.

  “Linda Collins used to like coming out to feed the cows with me,” he said as he pulled to a halt by another pasture and slung a hook in the bale of hay to toss it down.

  “Where did they move to?” Rachel asked.

  “Caspar.” Jed cut the band around the bale and scattered the hay. “They hated leaving, but with Frank’s poor health they had no choice. They had to be closer to medical care.”

  “How did they get to own a piece of land in the middle of your ranch?”

  “My father sold the land to them when I was five, after my mother and kid brother died. We used to live at the ranch headquarters down by the lake. My father couldn’t stand people pitying him, so he built the house up on the mountain, and we moved there. He worried about me growing up without any female influence, and he offered Frank Collins a parcel of land if he was willing to build a place on it and come and live near us.”

  “Did you mind when they sold the cabin to Melvin Goldman?”

  “I was furious as hell, but there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t afford to buy the property back myself. Frank was legally bound to give me first refusal, but I couldn’t come up with the kind of money outsiders were offering.”

  “Why don’t you sell more land and pay off your debts?”

  Jed slammed the hook into the hay to emphasize his words. “I’ll never sell. The place isn’t mine to squander, but to hold on to, and pass on to future generations.”

  “But what if you have no children?”

  “The land may get carved up after my death, but not while I’m alive.” Even as he spoke the words, Jed regretted the angry tone in his voice. He’d allowed himself to dream of Rachel staying with him, giving him the children he longed for. The knowledge that those dreams would never come true burned like a bitter brew inside him.

  He’d never thought himself a fool before.

  But he was. The worst kind of fool.

  The kind of fool who mixed up reality and dreams.

  * * * *

  Rachel sat on the floor, hugging her knees and looking down at Jed. He lay flat on his back beneath the built-in shelves in the den of Melvin Goldman’s ski cabin. They had come over to inspect the wiring, trying to locate the damage that had cause the power to fail. They hadn’t bothered to light the stove. Rachel wore her padded parka and waterproof pants. Jed seemed immune to the cold. He’d stripped down to his shirtsleeves to work.

  A crackly sound of a female voice broke the quiet. It seemed to come from the living room. “What’s that noise?” Rachel tilted her head to listen.

  “It’s the walkie-talkie in my coat pocket.” Jed poked his head from beneath the shelves. “Can you get it? Don’t push any buttons.”

  “Okay.” She jumped to her feet and hurried into the living room.

  Searching the pockets of his sheepskin coat, Rachel found a dark green plastic case and pulled it out. She’d learned that the mountain had no fixed telephone lines and was out of signal for cell phones. The nearest telephone was at Martha’s house. Mostly, Jed took care of business when he rode down to the ranch headquarters, but a shortwave transmitter was used to relay messages.

  “Here,” she said as she returned to the den and passed the device to him.

  Jed pressed a button. “Eagle to base,” he said. “Over.”

  The box emitted a click. The female voice came back on. “Base to eagle. I have a message for the visitor in the cabin from the owner. Will you be able to get it to her? Over.”

  Jed pressed a button. “Yes. Go ahead. Over.”

  “The message is to buy oranges. Over.”

  In slow motion, Rachel sat down and curled her arms around her knees, holding on tight, as if to trap inside the sudden wave of anxiety that knotted in her gut.

  Jed slid out from beneath the shelf but didn’t rise to his feet. Propped up on one elbow, he studied her. “Want to tell me what it means?” he asked.

  Rachel looked at him. She struggled to focus. Instead of seeing him, other images flashed before her eyes. The office. Her condo. Her clothes. Her car. Her clients. The beach in Santa Monica. The shops. Her way of life.

  “It’s a code word,” she said in a voice that sounded hollow. “Green apples. It’s safe to go back. Oranges. My client has been charged with a crime and I’ve been called to testify. Red peppers. I’ve been named as a co-conspirator and will be indicted.”

  “Oranges.” Jed’s eyes searched hers. “Will you go back and testify?”

  Rachel sat still. She couldn’t think. The plans she and Hank had put in place two weeks ago no longer seemed to make sense. She’d been so sure of what she wanted. All her life, she’d distrusted people. She had no faith in the justice system. The one time she had put pity before duty, things had blown apart, and now she had to find a way out of the mess.

  Jed waited patiently, observing her silent mulling for a few minutes. Then he disappeared back beneath the shelves and resumed his task. Rachel watched the muscles ripple on its forearm as he used the pliers to peel away the plastic coating on the electric wire.

  “I’m not going to testify,” she said, unable to deviate from the agreed path. “Hank and I made a plan before I set off to come here. Since my mother died, there’s nothing to tie me to California. I have a condo in Santa Monica. I’ve arranged to sell it to Hank. He’ll pay me, and transfer the money into a bank in Switzerland, together with all my savings. I’ll leave the country, with my assets intact. I won’t be a fugitive from the law, or have a blemish on my professional reputation. I’m simply someone who cannot be found and called to testify because I’ve retired and moved abroad.”

  “And what if the trouble blows over?”

  “Then we’ll cancel the sale of the condo. I’ll wire the money back from Switzerland. Everything will go back to normal. I’ll get my life back.”

  Rachel saw Jed’s arm flinch. “Damn,” he muttered, sliding out again.

  He sat up and inspected the bleeding finger, then stuck it into his mouth to lick away the blood. The shuttered expression on his face reminded her of the day she’d first seen him through the kitchen window.

  He’d changed since then. His scowl had eased. Frequent smiles brightened his features. After they became lovers, he’d stopped shaving in the mornings. Instead, he shaved in the evenings, to protect her skin from the rasp of stubble when they kissed.

  The dark shadow on his jaw made him look a little sinister. Rachel could picture his face on a Wanted poster in the old West. The face of a man who had little joy in his past and even less to look
forward to. Her heart seemed to shrivel at the thought that she’d go away and never see him again.

  “When do you expect to leave?” Jed asked, jolting her out of her thoughts.

  “I don’t know.” Rachel tugged at the elastic waist of her parka. “I guess that as no one can find me here, it’s safe to stay a little longer. I’ll be able to wait and see if Hank might find a way to keep my name out of it.”

  “So that your life can go back to normal,” Jed said without emotion.

  Rachel fought the impulse to tell him she didn’t want her old life back, but she remained silent. Jed had never discussed the future of their relationship, had never said anything that didn’t pertain to the here and now. She had no idea of what he wanted, and what compromises he’d be prepared to make to give them a chance.

  Behind her, small hooves clipped on the timber floor.

  “That damn goat,” Jed said. “I told you, she’d stick to you like a burr.”

  “I don’t mind.” Rachel uncoiled one arm from around her knees and reached out to rub Georgia’s pointed nose. “I like looking after things.”

  And people, she thought.

  Deep down, worry had kept her from fully embracing her feelings for Jed.

  Was it really love, or a need to brighten up another person’s lonely life? To find someone a little broken up to cherish, because fate had robbed her of the opportunity to make life better for her mother? And, even if she did love Jed, were her feelings strong enough to grow without being encouraged? She wanted someone to love her in return, someone who spoke of his love, rather than shrugged it off as a weakness, a soft emotion that a solitary and self-sufficient man embittered by past disappointments had no courage to feel.

  Rachel ran her gaze over Jed’s hunched form.

  Yes, she thought. I love him, but being lovers isn’t enough for me to stay.

  I need Jed to accept and embrace his love for me.

  * * * *

  Fear fisted around Jed’s heart as rode up the hill and saw two identical black Explorers parked in the clearing next to Rachel’s silver SUV. Rental cars. Lights blazed on inside the cabin. Even from the distance, he could hear the music blaring through the open windows. Some kind of pounding beat that would give him an instant headache.

  He’d known the time would come when reality would intrude, shattering the dream he’d strayed into, a bit like Alice in the looking glass, but he’d hoped to have a few more days and nights with Rachel before the dream came to an end.

  The track up to the house took him past the cabin. He urged Montana on.

  “Jed!” Rachel’s voice cut through the music. “Wait!”

  She darted out of the door, wearing a short wool dress with knee-high suede boots. City girl clothes. She looked elegant and sophisticated. It made him angry to know that others had been with her while he rode the pastures through the winter chill.

  Waving at him, she clattered down the stairs in her high heels. Then she surveyed the clearing and came to a halt. The field of snow had been churned into mud by the big vehicles that had turned around to reverse in by the cabin.

  “I don’t want to ruin my boots,” she yelled. “Hank’s here, and Melvin, and Philippe, and some of their friends. I have good news. Come on over. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  Jed slowed the horse but didn’t stop. A big man appeared in the doorway. The stranger wore a leather vest over a plain white shirt. The string tie around his neck made him look like a character out of a western movie. Jed rode past in a stony silence. He wanted to tell Rachel that he’d come by later, after he’d seen to Montana, and taken a shower and changed, but the words stuck in his throat.

  He could feel their eyes on his back as he rode up the hill.

  Good news, Rachel had said.

  Her troubles must be over. Only now did Jed acknowledge the ugly speculation that had simmered in some dark corner of his mind. What if the authorities found her? What if she were indicted for a crime? What if she lost her job, struggled to find another? Even got a prison sentence, had to pay a substantial fine?

  She’d be alone. She’d need somewhere to stay, someone to provide for her.

  A woman who’d been publicly shamed, who’d lost everything she valued, might be willing to settle on an isolated ranch, share the life of a scarred man who knew nothing about the world outside his small community.

  If Rachel’s life fell apart, it might put her within his reach.

  Like poison, the idea had coursed through his veins, creating temptation to alert someone to who she was, where Rachel James could be found. He had never considered acting on the impulse, but the guilt of the festering thoughts had driven a wedge between them.

  Jed glanced back toward the cabin, saw the bright lights and heard the music.

  He had fixed the power for her. She would need nothing else from him.

  This is how it starts, he thought as he rode on. The first steps of saying goodbye.

  * * * *

  Jed strode over to the cabin. He hadn’t shaved, and why should he bother? He’d never be anything but a country hick to this sophisticated crowd. His dress—faded jeans, cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt beneath a sheepskin coat—would enforce their idea of him. Not that he owned many other clothes anyway. He certainly wasn’t going to wear the black suit he had for funerals.

  This time, Rachel didn’t rush out to greet him.

  Jed hesitated on the porch, considered knocking. The music, now changed to blues, and the chatter of loud voices would prevent anyone from hearing him. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  “Jed!” Rachel crossed the room toward him, as graceful as a gazelle.

  He’d never seen her long legs, except when they were naked. The thought made him realize how little he knew of her, how briefly their lives had been intertwined. His hands fisted with the effort of mastering the tumult of feelings that churned inside him.

  “This is my boss, Hank Goldman.” She led him to the giant with a string tie.

  “So, Rachel can’t find anyone to date in Los Angeles, but she ropes herself a cowboy in Wyoming.” A shovel-sized hand thrust out at Jed. He took it, found the man’s grip firm but not crushing. The confident handshake of a man who shook a dozen hands every day.

  “It’s all over.” Rachel beamed at Jed. “My name was never linked to the insider dealing investigation. The guy actually confessed, can you believe it? He paid a massive fine and got a suspended sentence.”

  Hank guffawed, his big belly shaking. “You could have blown me over with a feather.” His voice boomed around the cabin. “It seems he developed a soft spot for the plain little secretary and wanted to protect her. Miracles will never cease.”

  “I’m in the clear.” Rachel reached out to clasp Jed’s hand. “Hank will wire the money back from Switzerland and cancel the sale of the condo. My life can go back to normal.”

  “Better than normal.” Hank’s eyes creased into slits as he smiled. “I’ve done some calculations about the annual bonus pool. You share will be around one-fifty. Congratulations. You’d have forfeited the money if you’d been found guilty of breaching professional standards. I would have had to fire you without compensation.”

  “One-fifty. Wow.” Rachel turned to Jed. “We could use the money reduce the balance on your loan.”

  “Rachel,” Hank said, and it sounded like a warning.

  “It’s okay, Hank,” she replied, rising on tiptoe to kiss Jed on the cheek. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Jed flinched at the soft pressure of her lips. He’d always shied away from public displays of affection, and his mind was busy shifting through the facts. One-fifty must mean one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Just her bonus was what he made in a year—a good year, when there was no disease, no severe weather conditions, and livestock prices held firm.

  What kind of world did Rachel come from, what sort of a job did she have?

  Tugging at his arm, she led him to another giant, a car
bon copy of the first. This one had his arm around the shoulders of a slight male with a neatly trimmed black goatee.

  “This is Melvin, and this is Philippe,” Rachel said.

  “We’ve met,” the big man bellowed in an identical baritone to his brother.

  Rachel smiled. “Melvin, that day at the lake last summer, it wasn’t what you thought.”

  Jed cringed as he listened to her explaining how he’d mistaken the pose for fashion photographs for a real-life attack on the model.

  “I’ll be damned,” Melvin said. “That’s exactly the impression I was trying to create. Danger. Menace. Helpless female. Two on one.” He gave an excited wave of his hand. The slim man beneath his other arm swayed with the force of the motion but didn’t seem to mind.

  “Nilesh, Ambrose, come over here,” Melvin yelled. When a pale aristocratic man in his fifties ambled over, together with a lean Asian youth, Melvin continued his tirade. “Listen, this dude got my concept. I’m a genius. He knows nothing about advertising, and he got it in one. Danger. Menace. That was the mood I wanted to portray.”

  “Calm down, Melvin.” Rachel patted the big man’s hand.

  The elderly blond came to a sudden halt and gawked at Jed in silence.

  “Oh my God,” the man said, staring at him as if mesmerized. “He is it, Nilesh. He is the rugged man. He is what I’ve been trying to find.”

  The Asian youth performed a tour around Jed with slow steps, looking at him from every angle. Jed felt his blood rising at the intrusive stare.

  “You’re right, Ambrose,” the younger man said after completing his scrutiny. “He is so rugged. Even the logo would fit, if we just tweak the pillars a little.”

  “Would you like to be famous, young man?” asked the pale one.

  “No,” Jed said, and felt like an idiot when others burst into laughter. Inside him, a hot temper was beginning to boil. No one had called him young man in a decade, and never in his life had anyone inspected him as if he were a piece of meat up for auction. Who did these people think they were? Staring at his scar, calling him rugged to his face, with that odd emphasis that implied they were poking fun at him.

  “Ambrose, we can discuss it later,” Rachel cut in. “This is a celebration. No more business talk is allowed tonight.”