Rock watched her as she slept. Her eyelids were delicately lavender, her cheeks palely peach. Her silver hair was pulled up and back through the hole of a bright blue billed cap today, a cap with the legend "Live Free or Die" across its front. Wasn't that the slogan of New Hampshire? He thought so.
It would do for Owyhee Country, as well. For Owyhee Country and Rock McConnell.
He didn't like towns and he didn't like crowds. Even the rodeo crowd in a little place like Vale had been a little much for his comfort, today. He didn't even like fences, not when they were around him.
Lately, though, he'd been feeling fenced in. This afternoon, he could almost feel the gate closing for the last time.
No, damn it! He wasn't gonna let Genny Forsythe, tenderfoot from New Hampshire that she was, catch him in any kind of corral. A romp in the hay. That's what he wanted from her. Another afternoon's pleasure like last Sunday had been. Afterward he'd take her home, and not see her again until the next time he was feeling horny.
"This is incredible country," she said, as they climbed the Squaw Creek grade. "So rugged and harsh."
"Not like New England," he agreed.
"No less beautiful, though. I love the feeling of space, the way I can see a hundred miles." She pointed to the right, where the spine of the Owyhee Mountains was visible through a road cut. "Look at that view! I couldn't see a tenth that far at home, not unless I were to climb a high hill."
"It's a hard land," he said, wondering if she'd guessed his feelings about her delicacy and was trying to convince him otherwise. "Hard and lonely."
"That's part of its charm. The emptiness. Oh, Rock, sometimes I felt so penned in, so overwhelmed by people, back in New Hampshire. Sometimes I wanted to be a hermit, just so I could be alone."
Sure you did, babe, he said to himself. Aloud he said, "You'd get tired of being alone pretty quick."
Something in his tone must have intimidated her, because she said nothing more, all the way to his ranch. Out of the corner of his eye, he continued to watch her. She was a real tourist, for all that she'd spent a good bit of time in Owyhee Country. Of course, that was in the Vale District, just over the Oregon line. She probably hadn't been over this way except for that day he'd brought her in the 'copter.
No matter. Idaho and Oregon weren't much different, here in Owyhee Country. A few hundred people, a few thousand jackrabbits, and a few million sagebrush. That's all there was. Them and a lot of open range.
He'd give her one winter, then she'd be ready to call it quits. One winter, when the wind never quit howling through the canyons and the land turned gray and forbidding. That's what had got to Selma, that and the loneliness.
Poor Pa. Along about January every year, Selma had started talking Arizona, and Pa had always given in. Given in and given up, Rock figured. They'd go down to Tucson, where Pa had bought the city bitch a fancy condominium and joined the country club. He'd even taken golf lessons, the first winter.
Golf lessons, for cryin' out loud! His Pa, tall and strong, weathered and lean, chasin' a little white ball over manicured lawns all day long.
The last time they came home, Pa had looked every single day of his seventy years, and then some. He'd been thin, like it wouldn't take much of a Chinook wind to blow him away, and pale, despite all those days playin' golf. And he'd not seemed to care about the ranch, that summer.
Selma had tried her best to talk Pa into seeing a doctor, when he started failing, but he wouldn't listen. The old man had been miserable with her, and Rock figured he had made up his mind to get out of his marriage the easiest way he could. And he'd succeeded, dying right after Labor Day two years ago.
Selma hadn't grieved much. Not after she learned that all Pa had left her was some stocks and bonds. He'd signed the Rock and Rye over to his son the day before he'd married her, proof to Rock that he'd not been quite as smitten as he'd seemed. Lonely more like.
Rock knew lonely. But he wasn't gonna take Pa's way out of it.
"I talked to Frank yesterday," she said, startling him. "He and Elaine can give us a month."
"Pardon me?"
"Frank and Elaine Ainsworth, remember? The graduate students I told you might be able to help us out in Skeleton Gulch. They'll be here sometime next week."
He remembered her saying something about some kids coming in to do some digging, but he hadn't paid a lot of attention, since she said it might not help get his application approved any quicker. "Think it'll do any good?"
"I hope so, Rock, but I can't promise. It all depends on what they find."
The hell of it was, he almost believed her. She really did sound like she cared about his waterhole.
Genny helped him take care of Tequila and feed the few mares he had in the barn. She thought he looked a little surprised when she offered, but didn't let that stop her. She missed her horses. Riding Dixie, those two days into and out of Shinbone, had reminded her how just how much she missed her horses. Maybe next year she could find a small acreage to rent and bring them out from home.
Home? No, Vale was home, now. She felt like she belonged in Owyhee Country, as Rock called it, much more than she had ever belonged in New Hampshire. She had fallen in love with the land and its people. One of its people, in particular, perhaps?
No, not yet, but she was getting there, in spite of his moody, on-again-off-again charm.
"Didn't you say Pancho kept the freezer full, Rock?" she said, while he was putting the rest of the sodas into the refrigerator.
"Yeah. It's through there, in the pantry." He pointed.
Genny rooted around in the huge upright freezer. Casseroles, soups, and bread filled the upper shelves, while wrapped beef and lamb and pork nearly overflowed the bottom ones. She chose a small casserole labeled "beef stew with beer" and a package of "B-milk biscuits."
Good. The microwave had a defrost setting. They wouldn't have to wait hours for dinner. She touched start and turned, to find herself in Rock's arms.
"Hello, darlin'." He rubbed her nose with his.
Genny forgot about her doubts, about discovering the source of his frequent angry withdrawals. She was where she belonged. Now if he would only realize that this was where he belonged, as well.
"Oh, my!" Long, sweet moments later she pulled back to look at him. Yes, this was the same man who'd taken her so roughly, so urgently less than a week ago. Today he seemed to think he had all the time in the world, and was going to spend it making love to her.
"Sounds good to me," she whispered, reaching for another kiss.
"Hmmmm?" He dipped deep, tasting the crevices and the hollows of her mouth. She tangled her tongue with his, wanting to savor him as deeply as he was her. For a long time, they let their tongues explore, and she felt waves of pleasure building somewhere deep within her. His hands were firm on her waist, and her arms were wrapped around his neck. Chest to chest and belly to belly they stood, straining toward each other, lost in mutual discovery.
Finally, when Genny's legs were reminding her just how weak his kisses made them, he swung her into his arms. Laughter tumbled from him and his smile was enough to warm the coldest cockles.
"Dinner can wait," he said, striding down the wide hall. "I can't."
"Neither can I," she whispered, burying her face in the angle of his jaw. No longer even thinking of resisting temptation, she let her fingers toy with the bandanna around his neck, seeking the knot. Only now, held so close against his chest, could she smell the tangy odor of his sweat, residue of his exertions this morning.
Sweat, a faint effluvium of horse, and musk. A male odor, uniquely his. She had smelled it before, lurking under his subtle masculine cologne. Now it was overpowering, filling her nostrils and speaking to a primitive part of her.
She drew a deep breath and her last veneer of civilization dissolved. No longer toying, she opened his shirt and slipped her hand inside. She scratched lightly, remembering the effect her nails had on him before. She bit at the warm skin of his throat, wanting to suck strongly, wanting to mark him as he had her.
But before she could do more than touch her lips to him, she found herself on her feet. On her feet and unsupported. Rock had stepped back from her and was waiting, a smile of uncertain longing on his face. It was almost as if he wanted reassurance that her need was as great as his. Could Rock have the same uncertainties as the rest of humanity?
Oh, no! Not Rock McConnell, supercowboy.
His hesitance gave Genny courage, where his usual arrogant confidence would have daunted her. If he had played the dominant male, leader-of-the-herd role as he usually did, she probably would have become passive, out of pure habit.
"Don't move," she told him. "Let me...."
His eyes flared at her, but he didn't move or speak. He just waited.
An inch at a time, Genny removed his shirt, sliding it down over both of his powerful arms at the same time, kissing her way from left shoulder to wrist as she revealed the tanned skin.
She dropped the shirt and ran her hands lightly up his chest, skimming the pectorals, barely touching the hard pebbles of his nipples. Her own ached in response.
Behind him was a wide bed, covered in dark red corduroy. She pushed lightly on his chest. "I want you to sit down, Rock. There. At the foot of the bed."
He backed. When the backs of his knees touched the bed, he sat, eyeing her suspiciously. She held back an un-Gennylike giggle. What did he expect she was going to do, tie him down and tickle him all over with peacock feathers?
Come to think of it, that might be fun. Some other time. When the edge of her hunger for him was blunted. And when she had a ready supply of peacock feathers.
"What are you grinnin' about?" Yes, that was definitely suspicion in his eyes. But he remained docile under her stroking hands.
"Just a private joke. I'll tell you later, if you're a good boy." Kneeling, she tugged at one boot. It was firmly attached to his foot.
"Darlin', I'll be the goodest boy you ever did see." His voice was hoarse with promise.
Genny turned and straddled his leg, pulling his foot up so she could get a good grip on the recalcitrant boot. He lifted it still higher, until she was almost held astride his shin. Oh, God, the pressure on tender, sensitive tissues! Her panties grew moist as he lifted her off the floor, then let her down again, slowly. His grin told her he knew what he'd done to her.
Despite the distraction, she was able to remove his boots. And his socks. Her nose twitched, so she did not reciprocate for his toe kisses, but she did run a fingernail along the arch of one foot before she dropped it. That brought his leg up again, but she was ready and hopped aside before he could high-center her.
"Lie back," she directed, when she had wrung all the titillation she could out of boot removal.
He sat stubbornly upright, a try-and-make-me grin on his face.
She pushed. He hardly moved.
"Please, Rock. I want to take off your jeans."
"Why didn't you say so?" He flopped backwards, his arms spread wide on the bed.
Genny straddled his thighs, bending low to kiss his belly just above the ornate buckle closing his pants. She felt, rather than saw, the muscles spasm across his abdomen. She saw the bulge at his crotch. Gently she touched it. "That looks uncomfortable."
"Damn straight," he growled. "Don't you think you oughta do something about it?"
"And what did you have in mind, sir?" Again she touched, rubbed. "Would a cold shower work? Or perhaps a bucket of ice water in the face?" She gestured.
"Woman, just you wait!" He reached for her.
"Ah! Ah! Don't touch." She leapt backwards before he could grab her. "I'll take pity on you, if you'll promise not to grab me."
He nodded, flinging his arms out again.
She stifled a grin of triumph at the sight of his twitching biceps.
Back astride his thighs, she touched him again, still gently. "I really hate to make you suffer, but it's so warm in here." She reached for the tails of her pullover cotton top. Slowly, imagining she was one of the strippers she'd once seen in Boston, she pulled upward, rotating her upper body slightly as she did so. With seductive movements, she twirled her top in one hand before tossing it aside.
By now, more than Rock's biceps were twitching. His hands were opening and closing against the bedspread.
She arched her back to better reach the clasp of her bra. Had she known where today would end, she would have worn the lacy one with the front closure. It and those outrageously indecent panties. But from the hungry expression on Rock's sweating face, perhaps this bra was adequately effective.
The bra followed the sweater. Leaning forward, Genny let her breasts barely brush his belly, above his jeans. The contact nearly made her lose what little control she had.
It didn't matter, for she found herself flipped over and pinned to the bed, a hard thigh between hers and icy, sizzling blue eyes staring into hers.
"My turn, now," he said. His hands framed her face and Genny surrendered to his greedy mouth.
She had not expected Rock to be a gentle lover. His arrogance, his impatience, and the frequent glimpses she'd had of simmering anger had led Genny to expect excitement, but never sensitivity. Certainly he'd spent little time on tenderness in the Daniels' gazebo.
He surprised her. He pleasured her. He intoxicated her, tantalized, and brought her to the edge of enchantment. His hands were gently demanding, touching every square inch of her body, stroking, tickling, rubbing. Again and again he returned to her mouth, to sip and to gulp. To her breasts, to suckle and nip. To her belly, to lave and to delve into her navel with a prehensile tongue.
Genny knew she was moaning and didn't care. All she cared about was ending this exquisite torture. She tried to pull him to her, but he was strong and unyielding. She tried to hold his hands, to stop the ache they created wherever they touched. "Please." she heard herself say, "Please. Please. Please!" but she didn't know whether she was asking for release or respite.
"Let it go, darlin'." Rock's voice penetrated her delirium. "Don't hold back." He kissed a line of fire between her breasts and across her midriff, stopping to titillate her navel once more. Lower, until she felt him probing at the waiting core of her, felt a tugging and a drawing, as if he were pulling her outside of herself.
The heat started in her toes, a fiery, tingling heat that burned its way past ankles and knees, swept up her thighs, gathered within her belly, before it broke free and overwhelmed her, carrying her along on a swell of sensation into an oblivion of satiation. She drifted, conscious only of being held in warm arms, of drifting in a haven somewhere beyond hurt and tears and disappointment.
Slowly she returned to the world, gradually becoming conscious of hands again stroking her body. She opened her eyes.
He was there, his face only inches from hers. His eyes still glittered, but now with a quiet urgency that she knew only she could alleviate. She pulled his head down, kissing him lightly, tasting herself on his mouth. Her hands found his buttocks and she pulled him against her, feeling the unrelieved hardness of him.
She caught his penis between her thighs and squeezed, With small jerks of her hips, she massaged him.
His breath caught, then burst from his mouth is a harsh gasp. "Careful, there."
"Careful? Were you careful with me?" She ground her hips against him. "I was doing just fine when you decided that you had to take things over." She grinned, what she hoped was a fiendish grin.
"You complainin'?" Again he turned her, until she lay sprawled across the top of him. "Okay, then do it your way." But she noticed that he didn't relinquish his hold on her waist, nor did he push her away from him.
Genny lifted herself on arms still trembling slightly from the force of her recent passion. "Just how dangerous are you, cowboy?" She straddled him, just above his knees. "If I were to scoot a little closer, would you explode?" She suited action to words, moving until she rode his thighs, just below his jutting penis.
His teeth were clenched as he said, "I won't explode until I'm inside you, babe, but much more of that and you'll find yourself ridin' a hungry bronc." His hands were like steel pincers at her waist.
"Poor baby," she cooed, drawing circles on his rigid abdomen with her fingernails. "I hate to see you suffer like this." She scooted a little higher, pressing him down, feeling the size and strength of him against her. Despite her recent satiation, Genny felt another climax building within her, just waiting until she contained him.
"Genny," he gritted, "don't push your luck."
"Not any more," she agreed. Rising on her knees, she fitted herself to him, taking him inside her a scant half-inch at a time. Still wet from before, she felt him slide easily, despite his size. Gradually she lowered herself, glorying in the sense of fullness he gave her.
His hands at her waist forced her to go slowly, when she wanted to take him all at once. But he held her up, lifted her slightly twice. She watched his face. His eyes were vacant, seeing beyond her, into his own rapture.
Finally she was seated upon him. She tightened around him, relaxed, tightened again.
He groaned, lifted her slightly. "Careful," he gasped.
A wild recklessness took Genny. Again she squeezed him, quickly relaxed. Once. Twice. But before she could do it a third time, he took over. She could have been weightless, for all the difference it made to him as he lifted her and pulled her down, burying himself in her. Again and again he pulled her hips tight against his, filling her, giving her all of himself.
This time it was no tidal wave that carried Genny on its crest, but an eruption, as Rock arched his back and found release. She felt him come, felt the hot spurt of his seed against the mouth of her womb.
She fell against him, sprawling across his heaving chest. His arms slipped loosely around her as they both took long, shuddering breaths.
"Sweet Genny," he whispered. His hands were gentle, light upon her back, as he stroked her. "Sexy, sensational, and sweet."
She felt like purring. "I had great material to work with." She kissed his shoulder, the only part of him she could reach without moving.
Gradually lethargy overtook her, and she fell into light sleep, never losing her awareness of Rock.
It grew chilly along about dark. Rock pulled the corduroy bedspread around them as they lay across the foot of his king-sized bed. Genny slept in his arms, half waking and clutching at him whenever he moved. He was content to remain where he was for the time being, although hunger was fast making itself known. A cup of coffee at dawn and another, plus a donut, in Vale, didn't constitute an adequate diet.
"Wake up, darlin'," he murmured as she moved in her sleep. "Supper time." He thought of the casserole she had set out in the kitchen and his mouth watered.
"Hmmm?"
"Food, Genny."
"Mmmmm." She turned in his arms, nuzzling against his chin like a sleepy child.
He kissed her. He wanted to keep kissing her forever.
"Food sounds good," she said, her voice soft and sleep-blurred.
He flung back the spread. "I'll cook, while you shower." Rolling out, he stood and stretched. God, but he felt good! Better than he had in ages.
She sat up and looked around. "Bathroom?" she asked, yawning.
He stepped into his Levi's and pointed with his chin. "There's a robe hanging on the bathroom door, if you want it." Slipping his feet into elkhide moccasins, he grabbed the shirt hanging from the bedside lamp and left. If he stood here and watched her prance around in her altogether, it would be hours again before he had his supper.
The stew was defrosted, but hadn't warmed to room temperature. Rock set the microwave timer and turned to the refrigerator. Some sliced tomatoes sounded good.
By the time Genny arrived in the kitchen, he had everything ready. "As soon as the stew's hot, we can eat." He had to grin at the expression on her face as she took in the breakfast bar, set with placemats and the everyday dishes. He could almost read her mind. Just because he was a cowboy, she figured he wasn't any good around the kitchen. Tell that to Pancho. He'd made sure Rock knew how to cook and keep house, not to mention do his own washing, before he went off to the university.
She looked sexy as hell in his robe. It was too big for her, so she'd wrapped it almost twice around herself. Midthigh length on him, it reached to her knees, and he found himself admiring what he could see of her legs. He hadn't been paying much attention to legs, earlier. Hers were spectacular. Slim, well-formed, showing good muscular definition when she walked. She was in pretty good shape.
"Anything I can do?" She looked curiously around the kitchen. It was much bigger than your ordinary kitchen, with a restaurant-sized range and a walk-in refrigerator. Pancho fed the unmarried ranch hands from here.
"You can pour us something to drink. I'll have milk."
"Milk?" He thought he heard her giggle, but the timer on the microwave sounded just then, so he wasn't sure.
"Yeah." He set the casserole on the counter and waited for her to pour milk into the two glasses he'd set out. "I never thought to ask. Did you want coffee? Or tea? I can make some pretty quick, in the microwave."
"No, milk's fine." She looked at him, smiling. "Everything looks so good."
It sure did, and Rock did it justice. So did Genny. He liked to see a woman eat. Selma had always been dieting, and he'd gotten real tired of the rabbit food she served them all. He and Pa had used to sneak out to the kitchen and raid the refrigerator for leftovers from the hands' supper.
When they were finished eating, she gathered up the dishes and carried them to the dishwasher. "No need for you to do that," he protested. "You're company."
"You cooked, I'll clean," she said. "What do you want me to do with the leftovers?" She tipped the casserole and Rock saw that there was perhaps a half a cup of stew left.
"I'll take care of it." He took the bowl, scraped its contents into a storage container. While she was loading the dishwasher, he put condiments away, wiped the counters down, and swept the floor.
"You know your way around a kitchen," Genny said, watching him finish the floor.
"Yeah. Does that surprise you?"
"Yes, it does. I wouldn't have expected a man like you," her hands made an indeterminate gesture, "to be willing to do housework."
"It's not my favorite sport," he admitted. Looking at her across the kitchen, her hair still damp, her bare toes curled against the tile, he felt a resurgence of desire. He waggled his eyebrows. "Want me to show you what is?"
"I really should get home." But he could tell she wasn't real set on it.
"Later." Three long strides took him to her. Again he swept her into his arms.
She struggled. "But Sophie will be worried." She didn't struggle very hard.
"Call her. Tell her you'll be home later." Much later, he thought. Tomorrow, even.
Genny relaxed in his arms. Hours later, she made the call. No one answered, but Sophie was probably asleep.
* * * *
"I still say I should have come home last night," Genny said, unlocking her back door. As soon as it was open, Marmalade was all over her, complaining vociferously.
"What's the matter, baby? Were you lonely?" Genny stepped aside for Rock to follow her indoors. Automatically she checked the cat's dishes. Both were all but empty. Sophie must have forgotten to feed him.
Marmalade told Genny in no uncertain terms just how lonely and neglected he'd been. Quickly Genny replenished water and dry food, then opened a rare can of gourmet cat food. Marmalade's complaints changed to little growls as he attacked the treat.
"Coffee?" she asked Rock. When they'd awakened this morning, they'd reached for each other. By the time passion yielded to satiation, it was nearly ten. Genny had refused anything but instant coffee, something she rarely indulged in. All she could think of was how worried Sophie must be, not knowing where she was or who she was with.
She reminded herself again that Sophie would have suspected she was with Rock, and would have guessed where they were. The trouble was, Genny wasn't entirely comfortable with her aunt knowing. There must still be a trace of the prude inside her, in spite of her wanton behavior yesterday and several times during the night. Not to mention this wonderful, wonderful morning.
She sighed in remembrance.
"What's wrong?" Rock said, apparently misinterpreting her sigh.
"Nothing," she assured him. "On the contrary, Rock, everything's right." She leaned against him, reaching up to pull his head down for a kiss. Her lips were tender, as was almost all of her body, but she needed his mouth.
I never knew I was insatiable. Her arms, of their own accord, wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him tightly. How good he felt! How good he made her feel!
She leaned into his kiss, giving it all her attention. When she finally came up for air, it was because Marmalade was again complaining of neglect. Now he had eaten, he wanted attention.
"Sophie must have come in late," Genny said as she picked the cat up. "I've never known her to sleep in like this." A frisson of worry touched her. Sophie was a lark. No matter how late she stayed up at night, she was usually out for her morning walk by seven, at the latest.
"Maybe she's out somewhere," Rock said. "Look in her room."
Genny did, and found the bed mussed, Sophie's closet open, her dressing table in disarray. "Rock! Rock, someone's been in here!"
She dashed to her own bedroom, but it was as she'd left it yesterday. Why, then, was Sophie's room such a mess? Sophie was as tidy as a cat.
Rock was still in Sophie's room. "Genny, here's a note," he called.
She dashed back, snatched the folded paper from his hand.
"Genny, dear, I'm going to be away for a few days. Don't worry about me. I know exactly what I'm doing."
It was signed with Sophie's characteristic, flowing "SE."
"Where is she? What is she doing?" Genny was near panic, wondering what had caused her usually calm and dignified aunt to leave with no more explanation than this. How could she have left her room in such disorder? "Rock, something's very wrong. This just isn't like Sophie. Not at all."
"Let me see the note." He took it from her shaking hands. "Is this her writing?"
"Yes."
"Does it look like she was upset when she wrote it? Like she might have been forced to write it?"
"No." Genny looked again. "No, it looks perfectly normal to me. But Sophie would never go off like this, Rock. I just know she wouldn't." Her mind was spinning all sorts of fantasy scenarios, in which Sophie was kidnapped and held for ransom. "Sophie's a wealthy woman, Rock. You don't suppose...?"
He pulled her to him, held her comfortingly. "No, I don't suppose she's in any danger. I think she just decided to go away for a few days, with someone she met, and didn't know how to get in touch with you." His voice was gentle, reassuring.
"But--"
He held a finger against her lips. "But nothing, darlin'. Don't you worry about Miss Enderby. She's one smart lady, and if she's gone somewhere, it's because she wants to. She'll be back when she's good and ready."
"How can you know that?" No matter how reassuring Rock was, she wanted to know where Sophie was. Disappearing like this just wasn't something her aunt would do.
She tore free of Rock's embrace and ran back to Sophie's room. A quick sort of the closet contents showed that several of Sophie's dresses were missing, as were her white linen suit and three pairs of heels. Genny checked the dresser next. Only a few nearly empty cosmetic containers remained, and her jewelry case was gone.
Her jewelry case! Genny knew Sophie never traveled without a selection of her jewelry, and she had considerable. Sophie liked precious stones, and was not above treating herself to new pieces every so often. The latest addition, which she had proudly showed Genny, was a set of opal earrings, beautiful stones surrounded with diamonds. Even though most of her collection was probably in her safe deposit box back in Boston, Sophie had probably brought several thousand dollars worth of baubles to Oregon with her.
She turned to Rock, her stomach churning. "Rock, she's in danger. I just know it."
"Aw, Genny, you're imagining things. Just because she left in a hurry, you're making a big deal out of this. Your aunt wanted some time on her own. Maybe she found herself a man." His grin was knowing.
"Sophie?" Genny felt a surge of indignation. How could Rock believe that Sophie...? "Never!"
"Don't be too sure, little lady. She was givin' Pancho the come-on, out at Daniels' place."
"She was not." Rock was an unsophisticated cowboy. He couldn't possibly understand a cultured, refined woman like Sophie. Despite her worry, Genny had to admit there was no indication that her aunt had been taken anywhere against her will. It was just easier for Genny to believe than that Sophie would leave only a short note to explain her absence.
But she had not gone wherever with a man.
Not Sophie.
* * * *
Rock was having trouble keeping his laughter in control when he punched out Genny's phone number that night. So Miss Enderby was too uppity to go off for a wild weekend with a man, was she? Fat lot Genny knew. He had a hunch that there was a lot about Miss Enderby her niece had never guessed.
"Hullo?" There was hope in her voice. Despite all his reassurances, this afternoon and evening, she was still hoping to hear from Miss Enderby.
"I may have a clue to the whereabouts of your aunt," Rock said, the chuckles threatening to escape.
"You do! Where is she?"
"I said a clue, darlin'. We can't know for certain until they come back."
"Back? They? Who, Rock? Who took her away?"
God! He felt sorry for her. She'd really worked herself into a panic again.
"There was a note from Pancho on the bulletin board when I got home. I have a hunch it was there yesterday evening, when we were eatin' supper, but we missed it." He let the chuckle break loose. "I wonder why?"
"Stop it, Rock. Just tell me what it said."
"Not much. Just that he'll be away for a few days and not to worry. Sounds suspicious, doesn't it? Both of 'em being gone at the same time."
There was a long silence on the line. Rock began to worry that she had fainted or something. Finally, "I still can't believe that she'd go off with a man. Sophie?"
"She's a woman, isn't she? Why wouldn't she?"
"But Rock, she's nearly sixty. I would have thought she'd be too old."
"Genny, they aren't too old until they're dead. Not out here in Owyhee Country, anyways."
It was obvious that Genny couldn't quite accept what he'd told her. Well, that was okay. He'd check back with her tomorrow night, make sure she wasn't making herself sick with worry. As far as he was concerned, Miss Enderby was a consenting female. He just wished it hadn't been Pancho she'd consented with. She was another fancy city woman, and one broken heart in the household was enough.
Rock finally admitted that his feelings for Genny were more than simple lust. He wouldn't go so far as to call his feeling love, but he sure was in like with her.
Now all he had to do was wait for her to tear him apart when she went back to civilization.