The Cowboy's Honor

by Amy Sandas

  “I don’t mind at all,” Randall replied, but something in his tone reminded Courtney that he probably wasn’t the Lawton she should be asking. Dean hadn’t seemed too concerned with the idea of her visiting them, but she supposed naming a creature could potentially cross the line into interference.

  “Well, the fire’s been lit and the men are starting to head down. I thought I’d come over and see if you ladies were ready to join them.” Randall glanced at his wife. “Unless you aren’t feeling up to it?”

  Pilar smiled and rose to her feet, placing on hand on the upper curve of her belly. “I’d like to go down for a little while, at least. It will be nice to see everyone again.”

  “All right. Mrs. Lawton?”

  “I’ll go if you stop calling me that,” Courtney replied with a salty smile.

  Randall laughed and gave her an unabashed wink. “I can’t help it. It suits you, I think.”

  Courtney rolled her eyes.

  “Besides,” he added as they all stepped down from the porch and started across the yard toward the bunkhouse, “you should probably get used to it since that’s who you’ll be to all the men down at the fire.”

  Randall took Pilar’s hand as they walked side by side. The comfortable display of their affection for each other was so different from what Courtney was used to back home. Holding hands so casually would have been considered practically scandalous.

  She much preferred Montana’s way of doing things. “I would rather just be Courtney,” she said honestly.

  Randall shook his head. “You’re the boss’s wife. They’ll be affording you the respect Dean would expect of them.”

  Courtney figured Randall was right. She cast another glance toward the barn. Now that dusk had fallen, she could see the glow of light coming from the office window. Did the man intend to leave his office at all today?

  “You mentioned last night that he does not join in with the men’s revelry,” Courtney said. “Why is that?”

  “He used to enjoy a good party now and then, but it all changed when Granddad passed on and Dean took over. As boss, he has to keep a distance from the men so they continue to respect him.”

  “You don’t feel the same way?”

  “Naw. It’s different for me. I’m just the foreman, and I spend most days working alongside them. Besides, I like people and I like parties way too much.”

  “Does your brother keep to himself out on the range as well?”

  “For the most part. When he heads out, that is.”

  “That sounds rather lonely.”

  Randall gave a look she couldn’t quite read. “It is.”

  The bonfire was taking place down near the river. Long wooden benches had been set up around the dancing flames, and more than a dozen men were already gathered around. Courtney had met many of them earlier when she’d helped Jimena serve their meal and was greeted warmly as room was made on a bench for the ladies to sit.

  Then someone picked up a fiddle and started to play.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dean watched her from beneath the shadows of a large spreading oak tree just beyond the reach of the firelight.

  Her laughter was light—a musical sound—compared to the gruffer, often more bawdy chuckles and shouts of the men around her. At the moment, Buck was telling one of his stories. The old cowboy had a wealth of experience on the range and knew how to turn anything into a laughter-inducing anecdote. No one knew how much of his tales was even true, but the men sure as hell found them entertaining.

  His wife appeared to as well, if her bright eyes and rapt expression were any indication.

  Dean wasn’t sure why he’d even come down to the river. He had no intention of joining the cowboys around their fire, but for some reason, knowing Courtney was there had compelled him to take a look, just to make sure she was doing all right.

  He should have known she’d be fine.

  The men knew enough to treat her properly, and Randall wouldn’t head home without escorting her back to the house first.

  And then there was the fact that his bride seemed to face every new experience, even the more challenging ones, with good humor and an enviably positive expectation. She just didn’t seem to consider the possibility that anything she did wouldn’t go perfectly in her favor.

  She apparently hadn’t been exaggerating that day in town when she’d said she intended to make the most of a situation she hadn’t chosen.

  As the music changed to a lively dance tune, a young cowboy named Grant Wilde approached Courtney with a jaunty step. He gave a flourishing bow before he offered his hand. Though Dean couldn’t hear what was said, it was obvious the man was asking his wife to dance.

  Dean tensed as an unfamiliar sensation flew through his blood.

  Courtney took the man’s hand, and Grant immediately swept her off into a spinning, high-stepping cowboy waltz. The others clapped in time to the music and shouted their approval as the couple danced. Dean didn’t like the sight of the cowboy’s rough hand at her slim waist or the way her skirts swept around the other man’s legs. But the smile on Courtney’s face kept him from interfering.

  He had no right to interfere anyway.

  The thought shouldn’t irk him so much.

  It wasn’t long before another cowboy stood up and cut in, taking his turn to spin Courtney around the fire. More men stood and partnered each other, a necessary practice when women were scarce and the urge to dance was too fierce to resist. Even Randall and Pilar took a few turns, though at a far more sedate pace.

  One after another, the cowboys claimed his wife for a dance, until her face became flushed and laughter fell readily from her lips. By the end of the song, her hair had loosened and the curls that never seemed to stay tucked away for long softly framed her face.

  She was beautiful. Full of life and laughter. Optimism and joy.

  He doubted anything in the world could bring her down for long. Even her fierce temper cooled quickly enough when faced with her determination to find the bright side of any situation.

  How would it feel to hold all that fire and delight in his arms? Would the darkness he sometimes felt pushing out from inside him overshadow her light? Would his regret crush her joy?

  He clenched his hands into fists.

  He shouldn’t have come down to the fire. He was the boss. His men deserved to have their fun without him lurking around.

  So did she.

  The song came to an end with a round of applause, and Courtney was returned to her spot on one of the benches. Dean was about to turn and walk away when she glanced in his direction. Despite the distance and the dark of night, she must have seen him because she tilted her head and gave a little smile.

  Dean felt like a match had been tossed on dried wood. Flames of desire and fear came to life. Need and denial.

  He didn’t want to feel so much from her smile, but there it was, in an instant.

  As the fiddler began an old trail song that had the men joining their voices to sing the sad tale of a man who returned home from the War Between the States to find his sweetheart married to someone else, Courtney rose to her feet. She made her way around the gathered men and started heading in Dean’s direction.

  He stood stock-still, his breath tight, his body tense, and his eyes soaking up the sight of her. The firelight at her back threw her feminine silhouette into stark outline while keeping her features in darkness.

  The closer she came, the higher the flames inside him rose. He struggled to tamp them down.

  “I thought I saw you out here,” she said as she came to stand beside where he leaned a shoulder against the trunk of the tree. Her voice was breathless from dancing. When she turned to glance back at the fire, he noted a light sheen of perspiration on her skin. Then she looked back up at him, tilting her head in question. “Have you come to join the other
s?”

  Dean glanced past her to the gathered men. No one seemed to have noticed that the woman with fire in her hair had left them. He suspected the whiskey jugs being passed around were significantly lighter than when he’d first started observing. The men were headed toward a long and ruckus-filled evening. They deserved it.

  “The men don’t need me to spoil their fun,” Dean replied.

  Her answer was a quiet sigh.

  They stood there without speaking. The moment felt heavy with an atmosphere of unfulfilled expectation. He got the sense he’d disappointed her. He almost asked her if he had but was saved from uttering the embarrassing question when Randall and Pilar started heading toward them. His brother, at least, had noticed Courtney’s absence from the fire.

  “Didn’t expect to see you down here,” Randall noted as they reached the shadows of the oak.

  Dean didn’t reply. He didn’t need to explain himself.

  “It’s getting late,” Randall continued. “I’m gonna take Pilar home. Would you take over as escort for your wife?”

  There was a hesitation, and Courtney quickly filled the odd silence. “That’s all right, I can make it back to the house on my own.”

  “No,” Dean interjected. “I’ll take you.”

  Pilar stepped forward to embrace Courtney. She said something in Spanish that Dean didn’t understand. Whatever it was, it made Courtney smile as she sent a fleeting glance in his direction.

  Then they were alone again as Randall and Pilar disappeared into the stretching night.

  Courtney observed the gathering around the fire. The men were getting boisterous in their celebration. “I suppose it is time for me to retire as well.”

  She was obviously reluctant to leave the festivities.

  “It’d be best. The men are looking to let loose tonight.”

  She nodded, and they both turned to head up the path toward the house.

  They walked in silence for a little while, then Dean asked, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “I did,” she replied emphatically. “So much. I have never been to a party like that before.”

  “You mean a bunch of rowdy cowboys passing whiskey around as they dance to the fiddle?”

  She laughed. It was a soft sound. “Exactly. I don’t think I have ever enjoyed dancing quite so much.”

  “When men work hard, they tend to play hard,” Dean replied.

  “It is too bad you chose not to join them.”

  “I’m the boss.”

  There was a pause before she asked, “And that means you are not allowed to have fun?”

  Dean shook his head. “I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Dean sent her a sideways glance at the hint of sharpness in her reply. He figured he imagined it when she continued in a softer tone, “It seems to me you could allow yourself some time to enjoy life every now and then while still successfully managing things. Randall probably wouldn’t mind taking on a few more responsibilities. In fact, he might prefer to stay a little closer to home with the baby expected to arrive soon.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like interference in ranch business,” he noted.

  “Not at all,” she argued with a sweet smile. “I am simply sharing my opinion.”

  He held back his amusement and gave a short grunt in reply as he watched his booted feet eating up the moonlit ground in front of him.

  But her words had him thinking. It was an argument Randall himself might have made. A desire to stick closer to home would explain why his brother had been more adamant lately in asking for responsibilities beyond those of foreman, which took him out on the range more often than not.

  Dean wasn’t sure he could trust his brother to keep a firm hold on things. But he wouldn’t know for sure unless he gave Randall a chance. If he did hand over some of the management duties to Randall, Dean wouldn’t be left with so much to do. He might even find time to claim a little of that joy she was talking about.

  It was not something he’d ever considered before.

  Maybe he should.

  Courtney came to a stop and reached out to place her hand on his forearm, bringing him to a halt as well. They had come around the bunkhouse, and the main house was just across the yard. He looked down at her face, all soft and pretty in the moonlight, though her expression was earnest.

  “One idea I have come to embrace since leaving Boston is that life is too precious to dedicate entirely to duty and the expectations of others. We all deserve to feel fulfilled and happy in our lives. I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been for you to lose your fiancée, and I know the ranch means a great deal to you.” She lowered her gaze to where her hand rested on his arm. After a moment, she let her hand drop to her side. Dean had preferred it where it was. She looked up at him again. The compassion in her eyes roped him in even as her smile knocked him off his feet. “And I know you don’t like taking suggestions from other people, least of all me, but maybe you could just think about what I said.”

  A harsh wave of longing swept through him. The feeling crested with an emotional resistance he couldn’t ignore.

  Anne’s death had hurt like hell. She’d possessed such an active, vibrant soul. For her to lose her life in a fall from her horse on land she’d ridden almost daily her entire life was senseless and tragic. It made no damn sense.

  He mourned her still.

  But he couldn’t say her death had any influence on his choice to focus on duty and responsibility over all else.

  No. He was pretty sure that seed had been planted long ago and had been part of the reason he and Anne had never gotten around to tying the knot.

  Randall had been trying to get him to have more fun for years. Even when they were young, before Augie had died, and they’d head to town together for a little R & R, Dean would be chomping at the bit to return to the ranch. When exactly had the joy been sucked out of him?

  A soft touch against the side of his face drew his attention back to the woman in front of him.

  Her eyes reflected the light of the moon overhead as she rested her palm against his check. She searched his expression with a smile that was almost sad. “What is going on in that riotous mind of yours?”

  Dean said nothing. There was nothing to say.

  He couldn’t explain it to himself, let alone to this woman who by all rights should be a complete stranger to him.

  Yet she didn’t feel like that. Not anymore. Maybe not even from the beginning.

  There had always been something about her that tugged at his insides. He’d thought it was annoyance at first, and frustration, but he hadn’t been annoyed by her in a long time, and the frustration he experienced in her presence was of a very specific kind. Yet that tug was still there—reaching deeper, pulling harder.

  When she realized he wasn’t going to answer, she allowed her fingers to caress the edge of his jaw as she slowly withdrew her touch.

  Dean’s entire body felt like a full-drawn bow as he gathered all the willpower he possessed to stand still and unmoved. But he was moved.

  The flicker of her glance swept across his mouth before she released a listless little sigh and turned to start toward the house.

  They crossed the yard in silence.

  The light had been left on in the parlor, and the soft golden glow spilled gently from the window. As she approached the porch steps, her pace slowed and then stopped, as though she was reluctant to leave the dark quiet of night behind.

  Dean followed suit, finding it far too easy to align himself with her movements.

  “I don’t think I’m quite ready for the night to end,” she murmured. Looking up at him with a gentle curve to her lips, she asked, “Would you dance with me? Just once before we head inside?”

  Dean hadn’t noticed it before, but now he
heard the gentle, distant melody of an old-fashioned waltz drifting up from the river. It was a slow and almost mournful tune, but it seemed to suit the current mood.

  He shouldn’t dance with her—place his hands on her warm body and draw her toward him. Mainly because he wanted to way too much.

  She took a step toward him. Tipping up her face, meeting his wary gaze, she smiled. “Come on. Just a few turns around the yard. When is the last time you danced?”

  The last time he’d danced?

  Years ago. So long ago he couldn’t even recall when.

  “Please.”

  Her plea was soft and sweet, and he didn’t want to refuse.

  His stomach muscles drew tight as he reached out to take her hand in his. Her fingers were relaxed and her palm smooth against his calluses. She stood still as he slid his other hand around the curve of her waist. With gentle pressure, he urged her another step closer. She complied immediately, and he swept his hand up the narrow line of her back into proper position for the waltz as her free hand came up to rest on his shoulder.

  They remained like that for a moment, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them, while the moonlight cast a silver glow and the strains of the waltz filtered lazily from the distance.

  Then Dean pressed his hand at her back and drew her into the dance. She followed gracefully through each step and turn. Her skirts flowed around his legs as his boots kicked up dirt from the yard. Though it had been a long time since he’d attempted a waltz and he had never been much of a dancer to start with, she made it easy, reacting instantly to the slightest press of his fingers against her back, seeming to anticipate what direction he’d take and staying with him even when he stumbled.

  It felt natural to sweep her around the front yard at midnight, holding her gaze, neither of them speaking. So natural that he was able to stop thinking about every move and just enjoy the dance. They swirled in ever-widening circles, making use of the empty yard while he held her close in his arms. Close enough to soak up her warmth and vitality. Close enough to see the light of pleasure in her eyes. He waited to see that easy smile of hers widening her pretty lips, but her expression was oddly serious and thoughtful.