THE general store in Big Elk was brightly lit and practically empty. Ira’s ranch hand who had given her a ride to the bus stop had dropped her off over an hour ago, and the bus wouldn’t be arriving for another hour.
Amy turned the little book display, wishing she had enough money to buy a paperback novel. The trip back would be long and she desperately wished she had something to take her mind off this fateful trip out west.
In her mind’s eye, she saw Ira’s face when she’d told him she couldn’t go through with the marriage. He’d pursed his lips and shaken his head, saying, “You can’t be serious.”
She had only been able to nod, fearful of how he would react when he realized she meant it. But he’d been civil, though he clearly wasn’t happy. He’d even waved off her offer to pay him back for Mary’s bills and insisted on giving her money for the bus. Still, she’d sworn she would repay him a little every month until the debt was settled.
She didn’t blame him for leaving her to eat a silent, self-conscious dinner with his cowhands, and for assigning his testy old cook to show her to a guest room for the night. The same grumpy, toothless man had driven her to the bus stop this morning, grumbling to himself most of the way. Ira had come by this morning as she was eating breakfast and given an offhand wave, mouthing wishes that she have a good trip back; but he hadn’t stopped to visit or ask how she’d slept. That hadn’t surprised her. After all, he had been dumped. He probably felt he had a right to make her a little uncomfortable if he wanted to.
She had a feeling both his pride and his ego would soon heal, for the last thing he’d told her before he ambled out of the kitchen was that he planned to go to Houston, Texas in a couple of weeks for a cattlemen’s meeting. She could already see plans for a new conquest gleaming in his eyes.
She browsed through the paperback novels, not really seeing the titles. The metal rack squawked as she turned it, the sound like a shriek in the empty store. She had her Wyoming textbook in her suitcase, but she couldn’t stand the thought of reading about a place she’d grown to love but would never see again.
“Lady?”
Amy jumped at the unexpectedness of the store owner’s voice. Since she was the only person in the place, he had to be speaking to her. “Yes?” She spun his way.
He grinned bashfully, and she remembered those big horse teeth. “I got some used books over here. These old Star Trek novels are only a dime each.”
She colored. How did he know she couldn’t afford a new book? She dropped her gaze to her suitcase, mortified. “No, thanks—I—I was just passing the time until the bus going east comes by.”
“Sure—okay…” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed. She felt for him. He’d only been trying to do her a kindness. He probably kept old books under the counter for down-in-the-mouth wayfarers, charging a small price just to protect their pride.
The truth was, she didn’t even have a dime to spare. Though she’d reluctantly accepted the ticket money from Ira, she’d refused to be indebted to him for a penny more. Edging away from the book rack, she self-consciously wound her hands together, trying to melt into the background. Bumping into a shelf below the front window, she decided to pass the time reading the sayings printed on the side of the souvenir mugs. Some of the phrases were off-color, but most were funny. She picked up one cup at a time, looking at each picture then reading its quotation. A few times, she almost smiled.
“Well, hon, I’m more surprised to see you than I would be to find a rattlesnake in my petticoats!”
Amy recognized Cookie’s croaking voice and jerked around, nearly dropping the mug she was reading. “Oh…hello…” Apprehensive, she scanned the store to see if the housekeeper was alone. When she realized Beau wasn’t with her, she let out a long breath, not sure if the sigh was one of relief or depression. Trying not to think about which it might be, she straightened her shoulders, working to appear casual.
“What in Sam Hill are you doing here?” Cookie absently handed the store owner a list. “Get me this stuff, will ya, Bud?” Before the portly man could respond, she’d turned back to Amy. “And when you find it all, go ahead and stick it in the back of the pickup. I want to gossip with my friend over here.”
“Are—are you alone?” Amy asked, unable to help herself.
Cookie nodded, pulling off her knit cap, her flyaway hair popping out in all directions. She stuffed the cap in her coat pocket. “The dang thing’s warm, but it itches.” She grinned, though her eyes held more inquisitiveness than pleasure. “Now what are you doin’ hanging around this ol’ dump?” She waved off the proprietor’s objection with a laugh, adding, “Is Mr. Ira dragging you in here to fetch supplies on your honeymoon?”
Amy shook her head, wondering why fate insisted on one more humiliation. Replacing the mug on the shelf, she stared out at the late-morning brightness. Sunshine glistened off the snow. Everything looked polished and gleaming and pure. How ironic that the most glorious day she’d experienced in Wyoming would not only be her last, but her saddest.
“Where is Mr. Ira anyway? Over at the gas station gabbing with Pete?”
“Cookie…” She faltered, unable to meet the older woman’s eyes. “Ira and I aren’t getting married after all.”
When Cookie didn’t speak, she found she had to see her expression, and shifted her gaze. “I’m afraid I made a mistake when I said I would marry him, and I decided it wouldn’t work out.”
Cookie’s eyes were as big as saucers. “You told Mr. Ira no?”
Amy shrugged unhappily. “I had to. I found out I was—” She stopped herself, thinking better of what she’d almost revealed. “I guess I’m not cut out to be a rancher’s wife after all.”
Cookie pursed her lips, frowning. “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry you ain’t gonna marry Mr. Ira. That ol’ maverick will find himself another filly soon enough.” She put a friendly hand on Amy’s arm. “So, what are you going to do?”
“Go back to Chicago. The doctor said Mary will be fine in a month. We’ll get by.”
Cookie nodded. “I sure wish you all the luck, hon, but I think you’re wrong about one thing. You’d make a good rancher’s wife.”
Amy smiled sadly, then had a thought and her smile died. “Look, Cookie—” she took the housekeeper’s arms in a pleading gesture “—don’t tell Beau. Promise?”
The older woman gave her such a piercing, thorough look Amy was afraid she might detect the awful truth in her eyes. Hurriedly releasing the woman, she turned away, pretending to hunt for just the right souvenir mug.
After a long, strained minute, Cookie said, “Why would I tell that old grouch a thing?” She sounded oddly chipper, and Amy couldn’t imagine why. “Mr. Beau ain’t done nothin’ but growl at everybody lately—like an ol’ grizzly bear with a toothache.” She harrunmphed. “Ain’t never seen him so cantankerous. Near bit my head off last night, and all I did was ask him if he wanted me to send your gloves over to Diablo Butte with one of the cowpokes. He near jumped down my throat. Grabbed ‘em up. Said he’d handle it. Sorry. If I’da known you was going to be here, I’da brought ‘em.”
Amy unconsciously rubbed her cold hands together. The gloves had never entered her mind. “Don’t worry about them—”
“Shucks, hon.” She pulled off her worn leather gloves. “You take these. What if your bus got stuck. You could get mighty cold. Besides, I got me a ton of gloves.”
“No—”
“Shush now,” she admonished, thrusting them into Amy’s fingers. “Call it a thank-you gift for all your help this past week.”
Embarrassed, Amy accepted the gloves and slipped them on, silently vowing to mail them back after she got to Chicago. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” She picked up a mug, feigning interest in it. “And you will promise you won’t mention seeing me to Beau?”
“Sure, sure, hon. He won’t hear nothin’ from these lips.”
Amy lowered the mug, relieved. “Thanks.” She faced the woman again. Unable to help herself, she hugged her. “I’ll miss you.”
“Shucks,” Cookie said gently. “A tough old piece of jerky like me?” She patted Amy’s shoulder. “That’s a real sweet lie, hon. Real sweet.”
“Got your stuff packed in the pickup,” Bud called, his pudgy face florid from the chore. The women separated after one more affectionate squeeze. “Cookie, do you want me to put this load of supplies on Beau’s bill or would you rather pay cash and close out your account? That way you can truck your grub in from someplace that ain’t such a dump.”
Cookie guffawed. “Send the bill to Mr. Beau the same as always, and quit lookin’ so hangdog, you fool.” She slung an arm about the man’s slumped shoulders. “Okay. What if my next trip in I bring you a pound of my pecan fudge? Will that square me with ya?”
His puckered features cleared. “For your fudge, I’d forgive you if you burned down this dump.”
They both laughed. At the door, Cookie turned to Amy and gave her a wink. “You know, hon, I have a real strong feelin’ things are going to work out for you.”
Amy waved, forcing a smile. “Goodbye, Cookie…” Her voice broke with regret, and she couldn’t say more. The door banged shut as Bud left with the housekeeper to escort her to the pickup.
The feeble rein Amy had on her emotions suddenly gave way and she sagged against the shelf. Her eyes were open but unseeing as a forlorn tear escaped down her cheek.
The bus was late, finally arriving at nearly one o’clock in the afternoon. Amy was tired and hungry, but she’d been tired and hungry before and she knew it wasn’t fatal. One other passenger had arrived about fifteen minutes before the bus came, and Amy had the feeling Ira had been a bit vindictive, dropping her off so early. Apparently the bus was routinely late.
The motor coach was far from full, with plenty of empty seats, but the last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts. She took a seat beside a young redhead about her age. The woman was extremely slender, with a sharp nose and big, wide-set hazel eyes, her lips full and wide. Amy decided with the right lighting and makeup, the thin woman could be a fashion model. The only flaw in the picture was the huge wad of gum she was chewing openmouthed. But Amy didn’t care. The girl looked pleasant and might provide enough distraction to ease her aching heart.
“Hi,” she said, after she’d stowed her suitcase on the overhead rack. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you.”
The redhead pulled a long, stringy ribbon of gum out of her mouth, then stuck it back, smiling all the while. “Hey, sit! I’ve been bored stiff.” She shook out her red curls, running an emaciated hand through them. “I’m from Los Angeles. On my way to visit my boyfriend in Chicago. He’s in graduate school there.”
“I live there,” Amy said, delighted she’d have a traveling companion for the entire trip.
“Cool.” The girl snapped her gum, then held out her hand. “Name’s Milly Koontz.”
“Amy Vale.” She accepted the girl’s hand.
“Nice to meet you.” She cast a glance out the window. “Pretty country around here.”
Amy followed her gaze, feeling a wave of melancholy as she watched white-clad hills roll by. A knot formed in her throat. “Yes—it is….” she whispered.
“What were you doing out here? Visiting friends?’’
Amy felt flushed and hoped she wasn’t blushing with distress. Forcing herself to relax, she lay back against the seat, avoiding her seatmate’s eyes. “Sort of…” Wanting to change the subject, she asked, “Where’s your boyfriend studying?”
“Northwestern.”
She felt another pang. Attending Northwestern had been another dream she’d seen slip through her fingers. “It’s a fine school,” she murmured. “What’s he studying?”
‘‘Giddyap, stud-a-rama!”
Amy grimaced in confusion. What sort of graduate course was that? She shifted to look at Milly. “I’ve never heard of giddy—whatever. Is it a foreign language or something?” Milly seemed not to hear, something outside the bus having caught her attention. Nudging her seatmate, Amy asked, “What sort of graduate course is your boyfriend in?”
Milly came back with a start. “Huh? Oh, Vernon? He’s a classical flautist, working on a master’s degree in music. I was talking about that cowboy out there.” She pointed toward the horizon, dotted with pine and fur trees. “Is he a total stud or what?”
Amy didn’t see anyone from her vantage point, but when the bus chugged around a turn, she saw the object of Milly’s admiration. A horseman atop a black stallion galloped along a ridge. The horse was throwing up great clouds of snow as it plunged across the range, its muscles pumping and straining, nostrils blowing frosty air.
“I wonder where he’s racing?”
Amy watched the approaching cowboy with a sense of disbelief. He looked awfully familiar, but of course that was impossible.
“He seems to be racing the bus,” Milly said, echoing the conjecture of several other passengers who’d also spotted the rider’s approach.
Something swelled in her throat, something she didn’t even want to think of as hope. She tamped the emotion down. First of all, it couldn’t possibly be Beau, and even if it was, it was a coincidence that he was here. He wasn’t racing the bus, for heaven’s sake.
“Wow,” Milly whispered. “He’s gorgeous.”
Amy stared, afraid to even think. The bus had rounded another curve, and the cowboy was now heading straight for them. He’d taken off his black Stetson and was waving it at the driver.
“Stop the bus,” a woman shouted. “That guy wants on.”
“Not with no horse, he’s not getting on,” the driver complained.
“Maybe he’s going to rob us!” a bespectacled woman whined. “I’ve heard of that sort of thing out here in the West.”
“That was a hundred years ago, Mabel,” the woman’s portly husband rebuked. “The guy doesn’t even have a gun.”
“You don’t know that. It could be hidden in his jeans!”
“I’ll check for suspicious bulges,” Milly cracked with a wicked chuckle.
“Stop the bus,” another passenger shouted. Amy craned around to look at him. He was the middle-aged man wearing Western clothes who’d gotten on the bus with Amy, so he must be from the area. “That’s Beau Diablo. Owns one of the biggest spreads in the state. He ain’t gonna rob us. Maybe he needs help.”
The argument went on, but Amy didn’t hear it. Her mind was reeling with such a wild mixture of hope and dread, she couldn’t think straight. What did Beau want with this bus? Surely he didn’t need to get rid of her gloves so badly he’d race cross-country to personally toss them in her face.
“Anybody know why this man wants me to stop my bus?” the driver asked over his loudspeaker.
Amy swallowed hard, but couldn’t answer.
“He’s shouting something,” Milly said, sliding her window open.
“Dammit, Amy, tell him to stop the bus!”
“Amy?” Milly asked, twirling to her new friend. “Is that you?”
“I—I’m not sure,” she hedged.
Milly pulled up on her knees, sticking her head out the window. “Amy who?” she yelled.
“Vale!”
Milly plopped down in the seat, staring at Amy. ’Is that gorgeous hunk the ‘sort of’ friend you were visiting? And if he is, why are you leaving?
“He hates me,” she mumbled. “He probably decided to give me a bill for my room and board, that’s all.”
“Stop the damn bus,” shouted the man who’d recognized Beau. “If you don’t, he’s going to jump off that horse and kill himself trying to get on.”
“Oh, let him jump!” Milly cried, her eyes alight. “I bet he can make it.”
Amy hid her head in her hands, scandalized.
“Hell,” the driver groused. “This ain’t in the manual.”
“He’s going to do it! He’s going to jump!” Mabel cried. “Speed up. He’ll murder us all.”
“Shut up, woman,” her husband snapped. “No more caffeine for you. It makes you nuts.”
Beau had moved up alongside the bus and was pounding on the door, demanding that it be opened. By now, the general chant was “Stop the bus! Stop the bus!” The only people not joining in were Mabel and Amy.
“Crap!” the driver groused. Pulling the lever, he opened the front door with a whoosh.
Amid gasps and applause, Beau leaped off his panting stallion and onto the vehicle.
“Stop this damned thing,” Beau growled.
Milly groaned. “Shoot! I swallowed my gum!” But Amy hardly registered her choked complaint. She couldn’t take her eyes off the furious man towering down the aisle in front of her, dwarfing the vehicle with his angry presence.
When his sparking eyes fell on his quarry, they narrowed dangerously. “One of your passengers took something of mine and I intend to get it back.”
The initial shock of Beau’s appearance was wearing off, and she found herself overcome by a wave of black, unreasoning anger. Why had Cookie broken her word? And what had she done that had been so unforgivable that would make Beau go to such lengths to disgrace her one final time?
Milly poked Amy’s ribs. “What did you take from this guy, the Hope diamond?”
“I didn’t take anything. He just hates me.”
He stalked over to her and scooped her up, depositing her unceremoniously over a shoulder. She was so disoriented by being treated like a sack of feed, she didn’t even struggle as he turned around and headed toward the door.
“Wow!” Milly heaved a breathy sigh. “When Tarzan’s through hating you, tell him he can hate me!”
“You can’t take that woman off the bus, mister!” the driver yelled.
Beau jerked around to scowl at the scrawny man. “Are you going to stop me?”
The driver’s head seemed to shrink into his shoulders with Beau’s intimidating stare. “Uh—well, I guess it’s none of my business. Just get off with her quick. I got my schedule, you know.”
Beau carted her down the steps to the roadside. Amy registered the fact that the bus’s engines were revving up, and it snapped her out of her stupefaction. “I didn’t take anything of yours! Let me down!” She pounded on his back. “That’s my bus!”
“Not anymore, it’s not.”
She wriggled to get free, but without success. “You—you can’t kidnap me!”
“Weren’t you paying attention, Miss Vale?” He began to trudge toward his horse. “I just did.”
“Yooohooo!”
She veered toward the sound. Milly was wagging her suitcase outside the window, clearly not convinced her life was in jeopardy. “You might need this someday.”
Beau altered directions and plucked the suitcase from the girl with a nod of thanks.
“Hey, stud-muffin,” Milly called after Beau, “you have any brothers?”
Beau chuckled, but if he responded, Amy couldn’t hear, because the bus chose that minute to belch out a roaring backfire. A second later, it began to chug away—abandoning her alone in the wilderness with a crazy man.
She watched the vehicle grow smaller and smaller in the distance as she bounced along on her captor’s shoulder. “Who—who do you think you are—Bronco Billy?”
“Shut up, Amy.”
“What!”
“Which part of shut up don’t you understand?”
“Don’t tell me to shut up, you snake. The next bus doesn’t come by for three days. What do you expect me to do?”
“I expect you to miss it.”
She twisted around, rewarded only with a view of the back of his Stetson. “Put me down, you bully!” She grabbed his hat and swatted his thigh with it. “You’d better get your testosterone checked. I think you’re way over your quota!” She abruptly found herself settled in his saddle. She blinked in surprise, but regained her senses quickly. “That’s better. Now, before you go, point this thing at the nearest police station.”
Retrieving his hat from her fingers, he planted it low on his brow. “Sit forward while I get mounted.”
“I will not!”
He strapped her suitcase to the saddle, casting her a skeptical look. “I may be a little heavy for you, but if you insist.” Placing a boot in the stirrup, he swung himself up. Panicked, she launched herself at the horse’s neck. The stallion whinnied and shook his mane at the unexpected weight, but before she toppled head over heels into the snow, she found herself in Beau’s lap.
“What’s wrong with you?” she cried, wishing she didn’t relish the feel of his body against hers. “Has the cold driven you berserk? You do realize it’s against the law to hold a person hostage!”
“I thought you wanted to be a rancher’s wife,” he whispered near her ear.
“I changed my mind,” she lied, nervous flutterings prickling her chest.
“Why? Don’t you like ranch life?”
Wary of his tricks, she wrenched around to glower at him. “I—I hate ranch life.”
A sardonic brow rose. “And I suppose you hate Wyoming, too?”
“I do. I hate Wyoming with all my heart.” No longer able to look him in the eye, she spun away.
“Is there anything else you hate with all your heart?” he queried softly. “Or anyone?”
Her face burned with indignation. “What is this, one last humiliation for the road?”
“Don’t change the subject.” He aimed his stallion toward a stand of denuded cottonwoods and snowheavy pines. “I asked if there was anything or anyone out here you hated with all your heart. Besides mountain oysters.”
Rancor rose in her like a geyser. How dare he play with her this way. Feeling thwarted and lost, she snapped, “I hate you with all my heart!”
“That’s too bad,” he said, his tone lower, huskier. “Because there’s something I have to tell you. Something that has to do with the way I feel about you.”
She shifted to eye him suspiciously. “You’ve made your feelings pretty clear. You hate me.”
His half grin was rueful. “No. Not you, Amy. Never you.” His tone was gentle, almost apologetic, and her frown deepened with confusion. “I hated what I thought you were. I wanted to hate you, so I made your life miserable. But you tried so hard, I couldn’t find anything about you to hate. I almost told you that night in the snow, but when you said you were in love, it made me—well…” His jaw worked. “I vowed to have nothing to do with you after that. But when Snapper rode out to tell me you were leaving on the bus—”
“Snapper told you?”
She was swaying awkwardly as the horse highstepped through the snow. He hugged her securely against him. “Apparently Cookie told Archie, and he told everybody else. I’d ridden out to check fence. It seems everyone on the damned ranch was looking for me to give me the news.” He shifted the reins, altering their direction. “I guess they all hoped you and I would get together.”
She couldn’t stand it any longer, and swung one leg over the saddle horn so she could more easily read his face. Riding sideways, she peered directly at him, asking hesitantly, “They wanted us… ?” The revelation was so startling, she couldn’t finish.
He nodded, his expression somber. “When I found out you were going away—not marrying Ira—I had to see you. Because if you love my father, I need to know why you’re leaving without marrying him.”
She saw something new in his eyes, a bright shimmer of vulnerability. The sight was so breathtaking everything inside her went still, and she knew at last her heart needed to be heard. “I don’t love your father.”
He hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “But I saw love in your eyes.”
She shook her head, her lips lifting with melancholy. “You asked me if I was in love. And I was— I am. Only—not with your father.”
He leaned forward, his lips very near hers. “Then who do you love, Amy?” he whispered.
She closed her eyes, unable to put her feelings into words. “I’m not sure kidnapping me off a bus gives you the right to ask.”
“I do have that right,” he said, his voice colored by urgency. Perplexed, her gaze shot to his. “Because I love you more than life itself, and I have to find out if you could ever give a damn about me.” He brushed her lips with a gentle kiss. “I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in that store.” He angled his face to the sky, exhaling tiredly. “I wanted you right there, but when I found out you were my father’s fiancee, I went a little crazy.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry I took out my frustrations on you.”
She stared, hardly aware that they’d entered a secluded wood. High above them, bare cottonwood branches stirred and pine boughs bobbed, raining snow on their heads like cold little kisses.
He considered her quietly as they rode, concern etched on his handsome face. After a time, his lips lifted in a wary smile. “I see now why the silent treatment can be torture.”
She lowered her gaze, unable to believe the magnitude of what he’d just told her. Trying to convince herself she wasn’t dreaming, she drank in his marvelous, male scent, snuggled within his protective embrace. He was really here, really holding her, really whispering the words she’d lost all hope of hearing.
Lifting a shy glance, she was startled to see that his face was indistinct before her, and she blinked back tears of gladness. “I—I love you….” she whispered, fearing she would explode if she didn’t finally say it aloud. “I always have, Beau—and I always will.”
He dipped his head for a second, as though in thankful prayer, then gathered her more securely against him.
The way they fitted together was intoxicating, and hot desire sang in her veins. When he lowered his face to hers, she joyfully kissed the man for whom she had so long harbored a love more boundless than the Wyoming sky. From the first time she saw him—as angry, powerful and awe inspiring as the blizzard that brought them together—she had sensed it, but had been afraid to face the truth.
His lips were gentle, coaxing, more thrilling than anything they had shared before. Hugging him to her, she couldn’t control her outcry of delight. “Oh, Beau…” she sighed against his lips, feeling a sense of completeness, a rightness. This was where she belonged. She knew she would always find a haven in Beau’s arms, and he would find one in hers.
“I want you to marry me as soon as possible,” he said, his voice a delicious rumble. “But if you’d rather, we can wait until Mary comes to live with us.”
Amy lifted her face away to look at this most remarkable man. Her heart was so full of happiness, she couldn’t help but tease, “Ah, but aren’t you sending me to France?”
“Not a chance, sweetheart.” His grin was so sexy it made her skin prickle with delight.’ ‘Someday, we’ll go—with Mary and our children.”
She accepted his kisses with the eager abandon of a woman who has finally found her true love and was no longer afraid to show the depth of her feelings.
Beau chuckled. “By the way, Desiree’s been a pain since you left.”
She traced his lips with her tongue, teasing, “I hear you were, too.”
He laughed, then surprised her by slipping from the saddle and lifting her after him. “Have you ever made love in the snow?”
Her body grew hot with expectation as he shrugged off his coat and spread it in a sunny spot among the trees. “Won’t we freeze?” she asked, her voice breathy with yearning.
“I won’t let you get cold.” He grinned that dimpled grin that made her melt, and drew her onto the coat. “But we might cause an early thaw.”
A soft giggle rose in her throat, and she lifted her arms around his neck, gazing into soft blue eyes so full of deep, sweet emotion the sight took her to a place of contentment she’d never known existed.
He gathered her in his arms, murmuring erotic promises. She closed her eyes, moaning luxuriously as his knowing hands began to pleasure and arouse, his touch almost unbearable in its tenderness.
On this Wyoming winter afternoon, Beau Diablo taught Amy very intimately what passionate commitment was. And Amy knew deep in her soul she would rejoice in the learning—today and forevermore….