The comfort of his arms felt so good. Too good, she thought, as she sniffed back her tears and pushed herself away from him. She didn’t know how long she’d allowed her cheek to rest against his broad chest, or his hand to stroke the back of her head. For a while she’d seemed to lose all sense of control over herself.
“I’m so sorry, Jake,” she mumbled in an embarrassed rush. “I didn’t mean to fall apart on you like that. I—The day has been long and everything just seemed to hit me all at once. And now I’ve gotten mascara on your nice, white shirt.”
She darted a glance at his face and saw that his brown eyes were studying her with concern. Amusement, disgust, surprise. Anything would have been easier to deal with than his compassion. She struggled to keep her tears from returning.
“Forget that,” he murmured. “Are you okay?”
While she’d been in his arms, while her cheek had rested against him, he’d called her Becca, she thought. No one had ever called her that and she wondered why it had sounded so endearing and natural coming from him.
Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded and turned to open the door. “Yes. I’m fine now. Please come in and I’ll show you around,” she invited.
They stepped into a small living room crammed full of old furniture, stacks of magazines and newspapers, and shelves of dusty trinkets. The windows were open, but outside awnings shaded the sunlight and left the cluttered interior dark and gloomy.
As Rebecca switched on a table lamp, Jake said, “I suppose I was eight years old the first time I ever visited Apache Wells with Quint. As best as I can remember your aunt was living here then. It’s going to feel strange to drive by and know that she’s not here anymore.”
With one hand Rebecca gestured around the room. “It’s clear that my aunt lived modestly. I suppose she wanted it that way.”
“Maybe she couldn’t afford anything else,” he suggested.
“My aunt wasn’t exactly a pauper,” Rebecca revealed. “She had a nice nest egg in her savings account.”
“Guess she was saving it for something more important.”
More important? The money, the property, everything had been left to Rebecca. Nothing about her aunt’s life or final wishes made sense. Had the woman lived miserly just to leave Rebecca a small fortune? She’d not even known her niece! Oh, God, Rebecca wished she could understand what it all meant.
“Come along this way to the kitchen,” she told him. “I’d offer you something, but I’m afraid there’s nothing in the house to eat or drink.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “It hasn’t been that long since we had refreshments at Abe’s.”
The kitchen was a tiny room with one row of cabinets and a single sink with a window above it. Through a pair of faded yellow curtains, a ridge of desert mountains loomed in the far distance. Between them and the house was an open range filled with green grass, clumps of purple sage and blooming yucca plants.
“Would you look at that refrigerator,” Jake remarked. “I’ll bet it’s at least fifty years old.”
Rebecca glanced at the appliance with its rounded corners and chromed handle. In spite of the paint being worn and rusted in places, the thing was still working. Although someone, she didn’t know who, had removed nearly all of the food from the shelves. In order to keep it from spoiling, she supposed. Perhaps Gertrude’s friend, Bess, had done the chore.
“Yes. I guess Aunt Gertrude didn’t believe in getting rid of anything that was still working.” Which was the complete opposite of her twin sister, Rebecca thought wryly. In Houston, Gwyn was constantly refurnishing her house with the newest and best. The contrast of how the two sisters lived was completely shocking and made Rebecca wonder even more how the split had happened.
Rebecca pointed to a short hallway that led off the kitchen. “The bedrooms and bathroom are down there. I’d show you, but they’re all a mess. Would you like to see out back?”
“Sure.”
He followed her out of the kitchen and onto a porch. This portico was made of planked wood and shaded with a roof. At one end, the thin branches of a desert willow moved in the breeze and scattered lavender blossoms on the dusty boards. The grass in the yard was long, scraggly and full of weeds and Rebecca couldn’t help thinking about her mother’s well-manicured lawn in Houston. There, thick St. Augustine grass was fed and groomed on a regular basis by a hired gardener. Expensive lawn furniture was arranged in an eye-pleasing manner beneath the deep shade of a live oak. From the looks of it, Gertrude O’Dell hadn’t even owned an old porch swing, she thought dismally.
“Looks like things need a little cleaning and fixing up here, too,” Jake remarked. “I didn’t realize there was a barn behind the house. The trees hide it from the road. Are there animals or equipment in it?”
“No tractors or anything that could be deemed as equipment,” she told him. “But there are three barn cats. And a horse was here this morning. I think it must come and go in the pasture. At least, it wasn’t locked inside a pen when I saw it. There’s a dog somewhere around here, too.”
“Let’s go have a look,” he suggested, then glanced down at her high heels. “Or maybe you’d rather not.”
“The ground is hard and dry. I’m not worried about my shoes, Jake.”
He smiled and for a moment she was reliving those few moments she’d stood in the circle of his arms. His body had been warm. Incredibly warm. And his muscles thick and hard. His male scent had engulfed her and she’d wanted to bury her face in the V of his shirt, to cling to him until nothing else in the world mattered.
Her strong reaction to the cowboy was startling and continued to confuse her. Although Rebecca had always enjoyed male company, she’d never relied on a man to keep her happy. How could she, when all the ones she’d known had been as fickle and unpredictable as the wind? Down through the years, she’d learned, somewhat the hard way, that men perpetually put themselves first. To them, sacrificing meant giving up football tickets to take her to the opera. She could do without that. And do without them. At least, she believed she could.
Still there were times, like earlier at Apache Wells, when she’d watched the loving exchange between Maura and Quint Cantrell, when she’d listened to them speak of their young sons, that she wondered if she would ever find that sort of love, ever have children of her own.
“Good,” he suggested, breaking into her thoughts. “Lead the way.”
As they stepped off the porch, a reddish-brown dog with long hair scurried beneath the yard fence and came loping toward them. From the wag of his tail, he was happy to see Rebecca again and she paused to bend and stroke his head.
“I was surprised to find that my aunt had left pets behind,” she told Jake. “I suppose before I leave I’ll have to take them to a place where they can be adopted out to new homes. And I need to find a trustworthy Realtor to deal with the property.”
After giving the animal a few strokes on the head, she straightened to her full height to see Jake was studying her closely.
“Gertie didn’t have a will?” he asked thoughtfully.
Color rushed to Rebecca’s cheeks, although she didn’t understand why his question should unsettle her. It wasn’t a crime to be an heiress, even to a run-down property like this.
“Uh—yes. Actually, Gertrude made me the sole beneficiary.”
She began walking on toward the barn and he strolled beside her. A stand of aspen trees grew at the back of the yard and as they passed beneath the shade, the air was dry and pleasant. She suspected that by nightfall the temperature would be downright cool.
“So why don’t you stay on and make use of the property?” he asked. “Or do you already own something in Houston?”
As they walked along, she stared at him. “No. I rent. In the city. I don’t have any use for property.”
Was the man crazy? Why would he even think she’d want or need Gertrude’s old homestead? Even though she’d told him and his friends that she worked as a fashion buyer, he obviously didn’t realize the importance of her job. At least, its importance to her. He didn’t understand that her mother and friends would be shocked to see her spend one night on this ramshackle property, much less want to hold on to it for herself.
But she kept all those thoughts to herself. She didn’t want to give him the impression that she was a snob. Because she wasn’t. She was just accustomed to a different life than this. That was all.
“That’s a shame,” he said. “With a bit of loving care this place could be a nice little home. But I guess a fancy lady like you would never settle for anything this simple.”
There was no sarcasm or accusation in his voice. He’d simply stated a fact the way he saw it. And she wasn’t at all sure she liked the image he’d formed of her.
Pushing a hand through her tousled hair, she wondered if she looked as bad as she felt. But that hardly mattered. When Jake Rollins had called her a fancy lady, he’d not been referring to her looks, but her substance as a person. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had noticed anything more about her than her outward appearance, the latest fashion she happened to be wearing. It was a jarring realization.
“Actually, I won’t be leaving tomorrow,” she told him, while trying to decide why she felt it important to give him that bit of information. “It will take me a few days to deal with everything and get the property ready to sell.”
“Well, I hope everything turns out the way you want,” he said quietly.
“I do, too,” she murmured, then quickened her pace on to the barn.
The structure was built of lapped boards with a low roof made of corrugated iron. The outside had once been painted white but had long since faded to a tired gray. At one end, two wide doors stood open, allowing a shaft of waning sunlight to slant across a floor of hard-packed dirt.
Inside, two female cats, one gray striped and the other a solid white, were lounging on a low stack of old hay bales. Nearby, a yellow tom was stretched out in the shade of a metal water trough full of rusty holes. Everywhere she looked, everything about the place seemed to have been long forgotten, as though her aunt had quit living years ago, instead of days ago. The idea saddened her even more.
While Rebecca tried to get near the wary felines, Jake walked around the structure, testing the supporting beams for structural soundness. Perhaps he knew someone who was looking to buy a place like this, she thought.
“This morning the horse was standing out in that wooden corral. But the gate to it is open and I suppose he or she wandered away,” Rebecca suggested.
“Grass is probably the only feed it’s been getting. Do you know how much acreage goes with the house?” he asked.
“Two hundred and ten acres.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about the horse. With that much grazing area, he has plenty to eat.”
Rebecca moved away from the cats and walked to where he stood gazing out the wide-open door. “Do you cowboy for a living, Jake?” she asked.
His expression faintly amused, he looked at her. “That depends on what you mean by cowboying.”
She shrugged, while wondering why he made her feel just a bit foolish. She was an educated woman with a college degree in business, along with being well-read on a variety of subjects. She kept up with current events, politics and the stock market. She was independent and had lived on her own for some years now. Yet when Jake looked at her with those brown eyes of his, she felt like a piece of mush, a woman who didn’t know the first thing about dealing with a real man like him.
“Well, I’ll put the question this way, do you do your job on horseback?”
He chuckled softly. “Most of the time. I own a ranch over by Fort Stanton, near Capitan. I raise cattle and horses.”
She looked at him with interest. “Oh. Somehow I got the impression that you worked for the Cantrells.”
“I used to work for Quint. On his ranch, the Golden Spur. But once he got the place built up to the way he wanted it, I decided he didn’t need me anymore. And by then—” he paused, his lips twisting to a wry slant “—I had fish of my own to fry. From time to time I still help Quint. Whenever he has roundup going. And Abe occasionally asks me to do things for him, too. For instance, a few of his special horses he won’t let anyone shoe, except me.”
Her brows arched. “You do farrier work?”
He nodded. “I did a lot of farrier work when I was younger. And then for a long time I managed the training barns at Ruidoso Downs.”
“So you know a lot about horses.”
He chuckled again and the sexy sound drew her gaze straight to his. There was a gleam in his amber eyes that could only be described as provocative and she found herself drawing in a deep, cleansing breath and releasing it slowly.
“I like to think so,” he drawled.
Finding it more comfortable to look at her feet rather than him, she noticed her high heels were now covered with dust and one of the pointed toes scuffed. But she didn’t care. Bordeaux’s supplied her with clothing, shoes, bags, jewelry and anything she wanted as a way to advertise their merchandise. There were plenty more high heels where these came from.
“I don’t know much about the outdoors,” she admitted, then glanced over her shoulder at the lazy cats. “Or animals. I’ve always loved being around them, but never had the opportunity to have any of my own.”
As a young girl, she’d begged her mother for a dog or cat, but Gwyn had refused. Yet that hadn’t deterred Rebecca’s interest in animals. She’d visited the Humane Society every chance she’d gotten and fussed over her girlfriends’ furry pets. By the time she entered high school, she’d had her heart set on becoming a veterinarian and had tried to gear her studies in that direction. In her mind, it would be the perfect job. Not only would she get to spend her days with a variety of animals, she’d be caring for them, making them well and happy.
But once her mother had learned of her daughter’s plans, Gwyn had been outraged. She’d absolutely forbidden Rebecca to even consider such a career, insisting that her daughter was too fragile, too beautiful to be dealing with animals in a dirty barnyard.
Rebecca had argued the point. But by that time her father, Vance, who’d been a gentle, easygoing man, had already died, leaving Rebecca with no one to help support her wishes or desires. Gwyn had always been a forceful, strong-minded woman and Rebecca had never wanted to be a rebellious child. So she’d tried to consider the fact that her mother could possibly be right and that years down the road, after Rebecca had grown to womanhood, she’d eventually see that her wish to be a veterinarian was ridiculous.
In the end, she’d caved in to Gwyn’s wishes and put aside her own dreams. But now, after all these years, Rebecca often wondered if her childhood pursuit would have suited her, would have given her more fulfillment than the materialistic job she had now.
“Well, looks like now is your chance to change that,” Jake remarked. “There are plenty of animals here for the taking.”
Lifting her head, she smiled wanly. He made everything sound so easy and uncomplicated. How would it feel to live that way? To not be hurrying and scurrying, constantly flying from one city to the next, continually worrying about maintaining her looks and asking herself if any of it really mattered, did she really matter in the scheme of things?
“Perhaps,” she murmured, then said, “If you’re ready, I need to be shutting the house and driving to Ruidoso. I’d like to get back to my hotel room before dark and from here the trip is at least thirty minutes.”
“Sure. I’ll help you.”
It didn’t take the two of them long to shut the windows and lock the doors. Once they made their way back out to their vehicles, Rebecca paused at the driver’s door of the sedan and extended her hand to him. When his warm fingers wrapped around hers, she was once again flung back to those moments she’d been wrapped in his arms. Somehow she knew she would never forget how it had made her feel to be that close to him, to have his voice in her ear, his hand in her hair.
“Thank you, Jake, for taking time out of your day to attend my aunt’s services. It means very much to me. More than you can imagine.”
“I was glad to do it.”
Instead of dropping her hand, he continued to hold it tightly, his thumb moving ever so slightly against its back. Rebecca suddenly had to remind herself to breathe.
“Well, perhaps we’ll see each other again—before I leave to go back to Texas,” she said, trying her best to keep her voice light and natural, even while she was feeling the quiver of her words as they left her tongue.
“I’d like that, Rebecca. Very much.”
She waited for him to drop his hold on her hand. When he didn’t, she forced herself to extricate her fingers from his and turn toward the car.
Before she could reach to open the door, he did it for her and without looking his way she quickly slid beneath the wheel and started the engine.
When he shut the door between them, she dared to glance at him through the open window.
“Goodbye, Jake.”
He lifted a hand in farewell, then stepped back and out of the way. As she turned the car around and headed down the short drive, she looked in the rearview mirror to see him walking over to his truck. As he went, he lifted his hat from his head and raked a hand through his hair as though he was either puzzled or weary, or simply gathering himself after the stress of dealing with an emotional woman.
Dear God, what had made her fall into his arms like that and weep against his chest? She wasn’t that sort of woman. What could he be thinking of her?
It doesn’t matter, Rebecca. You’ll probably never see the man again.
The idea left her very, very empty.
* * *
Rafter R Ranch, the place Jake called home, was located only a few miles from Fort Stanton, a military facility that had once played an important part in New Mexico’s early growth as a state, but was now only a preserved part of its history, where tourists could view the past. If Jake needed to drive to town for any sort of supplies, he had to head northwest to Capitan. The trip took more than twenty minutes and the town was actually only a village of about fifteen hundred people or so, but Jake didn’t mind the isolation. In fact, he felt lucky to have snagged the precious river land.
Several years ago, when the property had gone on the real estate market, Jake hadn’t seriously considered trying to purchase it for himself. At the time he’d been doing farrier work around the county, making a decent enough living for himself, but nothing that could secure enough money to buy choice river acreage. Besides, why would a guy like him want a house and several hundred acres? His mother already had a place of her own, and as for himself, he didn’t need much to make him happy. A place to eat, sleep and hang his hat was enough to satisfy him.
But Quint, who’d always been more like a brother than a friend, had insisted that someday Jake would want to settle down and raise a family, that one day he’d want a ranch, a place to build a dream.
At first Jake had laughed at him. Jake didn’t have dreams, he dealt in reality. And the reality had been that he couldn’t raise enough money to buy an outhouse, much less a house with hundreds of acres surrounding it. But Quint had stepped up and offered to help Jake get a loan and as a result, he’d somehow managed to purchase the first and only place he could truly call his own.
At that time it hadn’t mattered that the property needed lots of work. The house had seen plenty of neglect and outside the fences and barns were crumbling. But he’d looked past the drawbacks and on to the possibilities. He might have been short on cash, but he was an able-bodied man who could do plenty of things with two hands and a strong back.
Acquiring the ranch had put a dream into motion for Jake. And along the way, he’d gone from farrier work to running the stables at Ruidoso Downs, to helping Quint build the Golden Spur into a cattle empire. His financial security had slowly and surely changed. Especially three years ago when gold had been discovered on the Golden Spur and Jake had purchased shares in the richly producing mine. Now, the Rafter R was taking shape. He was gradually building the place the way he saw fit and answering to no one but himself. And that meant the ranch’s success or failure rested squarely upon his shoulders.
For Jake, it was a heavy weight of responsibility and one he’d never grown accustomed to carrying. But he was trying. And for the most part, Jake couldn’t complain. He had a large herd of cattle and horses, a home, and a ranch yard full of sturdy barns and plenty of equipment. He even employed two hands to take care of the animals. He had most everything a cowboy could want. Except a family.
That lonesome thought entered his mind as he pulled his horse to a stop outside the barn, then swung himself down to the ground. But he tried not to dwell on it as he loosened the sweaty girth and pulled the saddle from the animal’s back. He wasn’t the family sort. Being a husband and father and doing it right meant loving one woman for the rest of his life. He couldn’t imagine putting himself in such a confinement, much less succeeding at it.
Jake had just finished putting away his horse and tack, when he heard his mother’s voice calling to him from the edge of the barn door. More than surprised that she’d ventured away from Ruidoso so late in the evening, he strode down the wide alleyway to greet her.
Clara Rollins was a thin woman with wispy brown hair and a face that could only be described as tired. Jake could remember a time, back before his father, Lee, had left the family, that his mother had been a beautiful, vibrant woman. But that had been nearly twenty years ago, before his parents’ marriage had begun to crumble and before she’d been diagnosed with cancer.
She’d beaten the disease, but the fierce treatments had weakened her heart and for the past five years Jake had watched her movements grow slower, the light in her eyes fade away. Not because her heart condition had worsened, but because she’d lost all will and hope. He loved his mother and wanted to make her life better, but her mind-set was always on the negative. She refused to get better, because she believed she had no reason to get better.
“This is a nice surprise,” he said, as he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. “You’ve not driven over here to the ranch in ages.”
“I haven’t seen you in days,” she said in a faintly accusing tone.
Jake bit back a sigh. In spite of his affection for his mother, she often tried his patience. Probably even more than Abe tried Quint’s. But at least Abe was full of life. The old man would go to the end kicking, joking and enjoying his time on earth. Clara was content to simply wait for her life to slip by. He hated her attitude, but as yet hadn’t found a way to change it.
“I’ve been very busy, Mom. I’ve been riding fence line this week.” He gathered his arm around her shoulders and urged her away from the barn. “Let’s go to the house. I’ll see if I can scrounge us up something for supper.”
“No need for that. I’ve brought you some pot roast. It’s already in the kitchen, waiting to be heated.”
He rewarded her with a look of approval. “You’ve been cooking? You must be feeling better.”
“I just like to know my son is eating right,” she said wanly.
Jake’s house was located about fifty yards from the block of barns and sheds that made up the ranch yard. Even though he kept his pace slow to match his mother’s, she was breathing hard by the time they reached the back door and stepped into the kitchen. A part of him wanted to shake her for not following the doctor’s orders and keeping herself in shape by taking routine walks.
“Sit down, Mom. And I’ll get everything together and on the table,” he told her as he washed his hands at the sink.
She did as he suggested and he went to work putting plates, utensils and iced glasses on the table.
“I talked to Quint’s mother yesterday,” Clara said as Jake heated the meat and vegetables in the microwave. “She said she was home watching the babies for Maura, while you went to a funeral for Abe’s neighbor.”
“That’s right. Gertie O’Dell passed away and graveside services were held for her yesterday. I doubt you knew her. She—well, I don’t think the woman hardly ever got off her place. She was a recluse. Abe said she’d been his neighbor for nearly thirty years and he could count the times he’d talked to her on two hands.”
“No. I don’t recall that name,” Clara said thoughtfully. “How old was the woman?”
“Fifty-six, I believe.”
A worrisome frown collected between Clara’s brows. “That’s only a few years older than me.”
“That’s right. It’s unfortunate, but people of all ages die.”
He carried a dish of potatoes and carrots over to the table, then went back for the roast.
“What was wrong with her?”
Jake wasn’t about to tell his mother that Gertie O’Dell had died from some sort of heart failure. Clara already considered herself an invalid. He didn’t want to add the notion that, like Gertie, she was headed toward her deathbed.
“I’m not sure,” he said evasively. “Some sort of illness she’d had for a long time.”
With everything on the table, he took a seat kitty-cornered to his mother’s chair and poured sweetened tea into their glasses.
Clara spread a napkin across her lap. “I’m surprised you attended the funeral. Guess you made the effort for Abe’s sake.”
He paused to look at her. “No. I made the effort for Gertie’s sake, Mom. I don’t do everything in my life just to make an impression or score points.”
Clearly flustered by his retort, she clamped her lips together. “Well, you didn’t know the woman personally,” she pointed out.
“Maybe not. But she was a fellow human being, a fixture in Abe’s neighborhood. Whenever she saw me pass, she would always give me a wave. And coming from Gertie that meant a hell of a lot. She hated most folks.”
“Her family—”
“She had none,” Jake interrupted. “Not any immediate family. Only one relative showed up for the funeral.”
Clara’s expression was suddenly regretful as she looked at her son. “How awful,” she murmured.
Jake sighed. “Yeah. That’s my thinking, too.”
He didn’t go on to tell his mother about Rebecca Hardaway. She’d press him with questions that he couldn’t answer. Like why Gertie had left her estate to a niece who’d clearly never been a part of her life. At least, not while Gertie had been living in New Mexico. And from judging Rebecca’s age, he’d guess that had been as long or longer than the pretty blonde had been living.
“Wonder what will happen to her estate?” Clara asked as she ladled food onto her plate. “I suppose with no husband or kids, some distant relative will put it up for sale.”
The image of Rebecca drifted to the front of Jake’s mind, the way her blue eyes had glazed with tears, the sobs he’d felt racking her slender shoulders. He’d been a bit shocked when she’d fallen into his arms. Not that a crying woman was anything new to him. Down through the years, he’d seen plenty of waterworks sprout for all different reasons. And most of the time he had to admit that tears on a smooth pink cheek left him unaffected. There wasn’t a woman on the face of the earth who couldn’t be a good actress when she wanted to be and turning on the tears was just a part of her act.
But Rebecca hadn’t been acting, he realized, and her emotional state continued to puzzle Jake. She’d said she’d never been to her aunt’s house before, but seeing it had disturbed her. She didn’t appear to have even known Gertrude or how she’d lived, so why had the woman’s death hit her so hard? None of it made sense to him. But then, Gertie had lived what most people would call a bizarre life. Maybe learning all of that about her family member had been too much for the Texas wildflower, he considered.
Jake had to admit he’d been disappointed that Rebecca had so quickly decided that she didn’t want Gertie’s property. As though it was all meaningless to her. For some reason he’d wanted to think she was a deeper sort of person than that. But then maybe he wasn’t being fair. Maybe she wasn’t in a position to care for the place, the way it deserved to be cared for. She obviously had a life back in Houston. She might even have a special man waiting for her return, he thought grimly. The lack of a ring didn’t necessarily mean anything nowadays. She might even have a husband.
The idea bothered him far more than it should have.
Trying his best to shake it away, he glanced up at his mother. “You’re probably right,” he replied to his mother’s comment. “And selling it won’t be much of an effort. The land joins up with Apache Wells. Abe would be glad to fork over a very fair price to make sure it becomes a part of his ranch, instead of watching it go to some developer.”
“Maybe someone should give this information to Gertie’s relatives?” Clara suggested. “They’d probably be grateful to have someone drop a buyer into their lap.”
When Rebecca Hardaway had spoken of finding a Realtor to deal with selling the place, he probably should have spoken up and told her that a Realtor wouldn’t be necessary. Abe would buy the property without batting an eye.
But something had kept the words inside him. Selfishness? The hope that Rebecca Hardaway would be forced to stay in New Mexico longer than necessary? The hope that while she was here he’d get the chance to know her, spend time with her, maybe even get physically close to her?
Dream on, Jake. Rebecca might have leaned that sexy little body against you once, but there won’t be a next time. If you do see her again, there won’t be any tears in her eyes and she’ll see you for just what you are—a cowboy who can offer her little more than a lusty roll in the hay.
Picking up a steak knife, he sliced ruthlessly into the meat on his plate.
“Maybe I’ll do just that, Mom.”