Seduction, Cowboy Style

by Anne Marie Winston

  She stuck out her tongue at him.

  He laughed again, then he sobered. “That was just a joke. There’s no one special. But I plan to marry someday, so I might as well get this done now.”

  Marriage. The mere thought brought a resurgence of the heartache that was her daily companion. She’d been so stupid, weaving dreams about love and marriage with a man who probably still laughed at how easy she’d been.

  “Sil?”

  Cal’s worried tone jarred her out of her misery.

  “It’s not too late to let me beat the living tar out of him,” he said, a hard edge in his voice.

  She knew who he was talking about, and she shook her head. “That would only add one more layer of angry feelings. That’s the last thing any of us need.”

  “How about what you need?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t need anything.” At least not anything she could have. “I’m thinking that after the party for Lyn next week I’ll head home. By then I should be done with my interior decoration career.”

  “You know you’re welcome to stay longer. In fact, I’d really like it if you’d stay.”

  But she shook her head. She could only take so many reminders of what might have been. Everywhere she looked, something else caught her eye and made her think of Deck. Talk of branding, a horse with white socks, tiny pines planted on a hill…. Every time she spotted a black hat her heart almost jumped out of her chest until she realized it wasn’t him.

  “No,” she said. “I have to go home soon.”

  Cal didn’t call her on the lie and she was grateful. He knew there was nothing drawing her home to Virginia. In fact, she’d complained about their mother’s incessant matchmaking enough that he knew she was loath to return there at all.

  “All right.” His voice was gentle. “Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

  The little birthday celebration she was planning for Lyn gave her the excuse she needed to shop in “Rapid,” as she’d heard the local folks call the city at the foot of the Black Hills. The next time she went, she drove up the hill to Rushmore Mall again and completed her purchases for the party, then took a deep breath and forced herself to walk into the large chain drugstore.

  Bypassing the smiling face of the ice skater that endorsed many of the company’s products, she walked to the section of the store reserved for personal feminine products. As she stood in front of the pregnancy-test kits, she realized her pulse was galloping like she’d just run a sprint.

  Quit being silly, she told herself. It’s not the end of the world.

  She hadn’t had a period in almost two months…and it had been six weeks since the first time she’d been stupid enough to sleep with Deck. It wasn’t as if the results of this test were going to be any great shock. She knew she needed to go to a doctor, but she still couldn’t bring herself to schedule an appointment. Then she’d have to face the fact that she was going to be an unwed mother, that she was going to have to break her parents’ hearts and probably enrage her older brother beyond reason.

  She forced herself to take the test the next day. And although she hadn’t felt ill or unusual except for extreme tenderness in her breasts, she had a moment of lightheadedness when she saw the color change on the little test strip, and she had to sit down on the commode seat lid until it passed. Quickly she bundled all the contents of the little box together and shoved it deep into the middle of the trash can. The last thing she wanted was for Cal to find out right now. She was going to have to tell him eventually, but she had time for that.

  The most urgent thing was seeing a doctor. Her hands shook as she called the first obstetrician she saw listed in the phone book and made an appointment for the following week, the day after Lyn’s birthday.

  When Marty called him to the phone saying it was a woman’s voice, Deck moved faster than he had in weeks. Silver! was all he could think. The fact that there was no earthly reason for her to be calling him never even entered his head.

  “Deck? This is Lyn. Lyn… Hamill.” The soft, hesitant voice on the other end of the line was such a disappointment that he closed his eyes against the surge of feeling that swamped him.

  “Hi, Lyn.” It was an effort. “How are you getting along?”

  “Fine. Uh…my birthday party is this Saturday. Five o’clock here at the house.”

  So why on God’s green earth was she calling to tell him? “Um, that’s right. I’d kind of forgotten.” Lyn had gone to a woman’s shelter not far from the hospital after her release, Silver had relayed the original invitation to the party he’d assumed they’d be going to together.

  “Do you think you’ll come?”

  “Well….” He searched for an excuse.

  She cleared her throat and said in a very small voice, “Silver will be there.”

  His entire body stiffened as the implications of the simple statement sank in, and he wanted to smack himself in the forehead. Of course she would. She was the one who had organized it in the first place…while she’d been with him. “Thanks, Lyn.” His voice warmed. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.” There was still a hesitant quality to her voice. “I hope I’m not making a mistake. She said you only—”

  “I made the mistake,” he interrupted. “And I want to fix it. I’ll be there.” As he hung up the phone, he blessed the kindness of Lyn Hamill’s heart.

  Silver would be there!

  How could he have forgotten? He’d been trying to think of some way to get close to her for days. Weeks.

  His first impulse had been to ride over to the McCall ranch and demand to talk to her, but he remembered the murderous look in her brother’s eye. If he went over there, he and Cal were certain to get into a rip-roaring brawl, at the very least. And while he still would enjoy pounding McCall into a bloody pulp for what he’d done to Genie, he, Deck, wouldn’t distress Silver any further for anything. The look in her eyes the day he’d tried to talk to her in Kadoka still haunted him.

  He’d looked for her in town every time he’d gone in. In fact, Marty had started to look at him funny because he volunteered for every driving chore there was. But he was getting desperate. He’d seen Cal from a distance at least a dozen times. Once he’d been coming out of the insurance office when Deck was on his way to get feed and they’d stared each other down. They might still be there staring except Stumpie Mohler had driven up behind Deck in the middle of Main Street and laid on the horn to get him moving.

  But there was no point in thinking about McCall now. All he cared about was Silver.

  Maybe she’d forgive him if he apologized enough.

  Maybe.

  He’d been wrong to involve her in his desire to make McCall pay for what he’d done to Genie.

  He didn’t do anything and you know it. What about what you did?

  The little voice that rose in his head was so unexpected he could only stand there and remember for a long, long minute. Then, snarling, he slammed it back into the dungeon where he kept it hidden.

  Stomping out the back door, he went to get his toolbox. He had a tractor to fix.

  On Saturday afternoon he told Marty where he was going. Then he showered and put on clean clothes, dusted off his hat and boots and took off for Rapid. The woman who ran the flower and gift shop on Maple Street had sold him a nice little basket he’d seen in the window. He’d had her fill it with candy and wrap it, and if he did say so himself, it was a pretty nice little birthday gift.

  By the time he shut the door of the truck and walked to the women’s shelter, a simple frame house, he was a nervous wreck.

  A strange woman answered the door. She directed him through the hall to the kitchen, which led to a fenced yard.

  There was a small crowd, maybe a dozen people altogether, gathered on the patio. Flower beds and planters had been filled with brilliantly colored annuals. Roses climbed the fence and perennials—some familiar wildflowers and others he didn’t recognize—were worked into the landscaping around the edges of the ya
rd.

  Most of the people milling around were women. Most of them were probably…patients? Clients? Whatever they were called—who lived or had lived at the house. They were easily identifiable by the darting, slightly panicked looks they were giving him. For the first time he realized how intimidating a big man in a black hat might be. He couldn’t do anything about his size but he could fix the hat, so he reached up and took it off, running a hand through his hair.

  A woman with long, loose, red hair broke away from the group and came toward him, and he recognized Lyn.

  “I’m so glad you came,” she told him as she reached him.

  Deck handed her the basket. “Happy birthday.”

  She stopped dead. Stopped talking. Her mouth hung slightly open, and she looked dazed. Almost as quickly, tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you so much,” she said in her husky voice. “I’ve never—well, this is the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me. And presents…” She smiled, and a flash of wry humor flitted across her too-serious features. “Presents are the icing on the cake. No pun intended.”

  “Lyn!” A woman was calling from the long table set up on the patio. “You have to start the buffet line. You’re the guest of honor.”

  Lyn looked around, then raised her hands helplessly. “I don’t know the etiquette for parties,” she informed him. Then, as she turned and started off, she glanced over her shoulder. “She’s in the kitchen.”

  He didn’t need to ask who “she” was. Though he hadn’t seen her on his first pass through the house, he retraced his steps. Just as he reached the door, a woman backed through it carrying a large bowl of fruit salad. He recognized the wealth of black hair swirling around her shoulders instantly.

  As she turned to start off into the yard, she nearly ran straight into him. “Oh! Excuse—Deck!” Her face paled, and he hastily grabbed for the bowl that threatened to slide out of her hands.

  “Sorry,” he said, assessing the color flooding back into her face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t.” She sounded annoyed.

  “Ooo-kay.” He wasn’t going to argue. He indicated the fruit bowl he still held. “Want me to carry this to the table?”

  “Yes, please.” She started to follow him and he heard her say, “I didn’t know you were invited.”

  “Lyn asked me to come.” He set down the bowl in the space the women indicated and backed away. As he did, he snagged Silver’s hand. “Come talk to me.”

  “No.” She pulled her hand free before he could get a good grip. As she met his eyes and read his intentions, she said, “And don’t you dare manhandle me in front of these women. They’ve seen enough abuse to last them a lifetime.”

  “I don’t recall ever abusing you,” he said, pitching his tone low. “In fact, I remember—”

  “Stop it!” she hissed. “I told you before, there’s nothing to say.”

  She turned and plunged back into the center of the activity before he could think up any good reason to keep her near him. All right. Fine. He could wait. But she was going to talk to him. Tonight.

  The party was a subdued affair, but the warmth and affection the other women in the house showed Lyn told their own story. Only two other men were in attendance. One was the husband of a woman who volunteered at the home. When he’d retired, he informed Deck, his wife had found a whole new set of jobs to keep him busy. Now he did routine maintenance at the home.

  The other man was a local landscaper who donated his time to teach the women how to care for the plants and gardens. Both men made a beeline for him and he wondered if they were as relieved as he was to find someone else who could talk about the Twins’ chances of winning the pennant this season.

  Finally the last gift had been opened and the cake was a sloppy pile of crumbs. The women had the place cleaned up faster than he could offer to help, which suited him just fine. And just about that time he realized Silver had disappeared.

  Saying a hasty goodbye to Lyn and his new buddies, he made it to the front door just as her truck pulled away from the curb.

  Traffic in Rapid wasn’t usually much to speak of, so he took his time getting his own truck moving after her. She probably thought she’d made her getaway—

  He was so busy congratulating himself he nearly missed her signal and subsequent turn into the lot of a small motel. What the heck was she doing?

  He didn’t think she realized that he’d followed her until he pulled his truck into the parking lot. She was already out of her car. Was she visiting someone?

  When she turned and saw him walking toward her, her whole body almost seemed to sag. Ignoring him, she started to walk across the macadam.

  His legs were a whole lot longer than hers, and unless she actually ran from him, she couldn’t hope to outdistance him. He reached her side in a matter of seconds and as he did so, she halted.

  “What do you want?” Her face was as mild as her tone, but he noted the way her fingers clutched the strap of her bag. She wasn’t as calm as she wanted him to think.

  You. “I told you before. I want to talk to you.”

  “Look,” she said with a hint of impatience and perhaps the smallest dash of belligerence. “I’m tired. As I told you before, there’s nothing to talk about.”

  He ignored that. “Ride home with me. After we talk, you can sleep the rest of the way.”

  “I’m not going home. I have a room here for the night because I wasn’t sure how long I’d be and I didn’t want to drive back alone late at night.”

  I could have brought you, and then you wouldn’t have been alone. But he didn’t say the words. Instead he reached for the key she took from her purse. “Which room is yours?”

  “Nineteen,” she said through what sounded like gritted teeth. “But you are not invited in.”

  He ignored that, too, walking the rest of the way to Room Nineteen. He unlocked the door and stood back, motioning her to precede him. She hesitated, but she finally stepped into the room. When she did, he followed her so closely there was no way she could have slammed the door in his face.

  Silver immediately made for the far side of the room. He shut the door and turned the dead bolt. “Sit down.”

  “I don’t want—”

  “Sit down.”

  She sat.

  She chose one of the two chairs at the tiny table beneath the window at the back of the room. Folding her hands atop the table, she placed both feet on the floor in the guise of an attentive student.

  “Thank you.” He felt stupid. “All I want is one chance to explain.”

  She didn’t say a word.

  He sighed. He walked across the room and eyed the fragile chair, then sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

  She was looking at the table, not at him, but he saw her bite her lip.

  “I guess it’s hard for you to understand.” He hesitated. He hated, positively hated, to even think about the accident, much less talk about it, but if he wanted Silver back he’d have to do it. “Genie was my twin,” he said. “We shared everything it was possible to share. We even had our own language when we were toddlers. It drove my parents and Marty crazy, so they say. When she was—when she died, I felt like part of me had died, too.” He put a hand to his chest. “Something in here just shriveled up and it hasn’t been the same since.”

  She looked at him then, and there was compassion in her eyes. But he wasn’t finished.

  “I’ve carried a lot of anger around for years. When I first met you, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Then I saw you get into McCall’s truck and I figured you came to town with him and I hated him even more. Then…” He didn’t like to think about what he’d done. “I found out you were his sister. I intended to stay away from you. I didn’t plan it, I swear. At least not at first.”

  The warmth had cooled in her steady gaze, though she was still looking at him. “Well, that’s something,” she said in an expressionless tone.
>
  “Genie was special,” he said. “She would have been the life of that party today—” He stopped, as his own words penetrated his mind.

  Guilt hit him with the force of a blizzard howling across the unprotected plains. Genie. Party. He’d been so wrapped up in thoughts of Silver that the month had gone almost by and he had barely thought about his sister. Her birthday—and also his own—was coming up a week from today. If she’d lived, they would be turning thirty together.

  God, how could he have forgotten her?

  “Deck?” Silver leaned forward slightly.

  He shook his head, holding up a hand. Then he abandoned the effort and raised both hands to his face, bending nearly double beneath the weight of his pain. He tried to imagine what she would look like now, at thirty, but he had trouble even calling up the image of the sister he’d loved all those years ago.

  How could he have forgotten her?

  The mattress tilted slightly as Silver sat beside him, and he felt the warmth of her body next to his, her arms circling his shoulders. Her hair whispered as she pulled his head to hers, and she held him while the pain battered his senses and beat his emotions raw again.

  He sat in the quiet room with a woman’s warmth surrounding him, and he grieved as he hadn’t since the day he’d stood by while they lowered his sister’s casket into the ground. He’d placed the bridle from her little mare on the casket and clenched his fingers around the class ring he’d carried in his pocket—the ring that was a twin to his.

  And when the funeral ended, the great gaping hole in his life had been raggedly pulled together, but a pocket of unhealed emotion remained, festering for years until the day Cal McCall came back to town.

  The room grew quiet around them. He realized that Silver was rocking slightly, comforting him with wordless noises that soothed the hurt in his heart. He straightened and put his arms loosely around her, his face still close to hers. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You’re welcome.” She whispered, too, and her breath was sweet on his face. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to turn his head and find her lips with his own.