twenty-two
Jessie woke up just before dawn. She glanced at the clock. Six A.M. She thought about burrowing back within the bed.
But her movements had roused Ben, who was sleeping beside the bed, and he jumped up on her, his body wriggling in eager anticipation of a trip outside. Just as well. She could see another sunrise.
She dressed hurriedly in a pair of jeans and sweater, ran a comb through her hair, and applied just a touch of lipstick. Then she went down the steps at a jog, Ben trailing behind her. She felt far better than she’d thought she would and looked forward to the ride ahead. Decisions had been made, and she felt as if she’d finished at least one chapter of the book that was becoming her life. Now a cup of coffee and a view of the sunrise were exactly what she needed.
But as she headed for the kitchen, she nearly ran down Sarah. Her aunt was wearing riding clothes and looked healthier than she had anytime in the past several days. Jessie wondered whether it was because she knew she could live on in the house, or whether she was just having a good day.
Sarah’s face brightened and Jessie’s heart contracted. She was just beginning to realize how much she had come to care for Sarah, manipulation or not.
“I’ll fix breakfast for us,” her aunt said. “Marc and Samantha didn’t get in until late and probably won’t be up for a while. Halden is having breakfast in his room.”
“He’s all right, isn’t he?”
“Oh yes, but he just wants toast in the morning and he likes to eat and read the paper in his room.”
They went into the kitchen and the aroma of coffee was lovely. “What would you like?” Sarah asked. “Rosa isn’t here yet, but I can whip up something.”
“Anything.”
“Fresh fruit and an omelet? Mine aren’t as good as Rosa’s but …”
“Sounds marvelous.” It sounded better than marvelous, in fact. The ache in her head had almost disappeared, and she found herself unexpectedly hungry. “I’ll have to call Alex and make an appointment to sign those papers of his,” she said. “I want to leave tomorrow.”
“Have you made your reservation?”
“It was open-ended. I’ll check on that later, too.”
“I can ask Alex to come over here.”
“Thanks, but I think I would rather go to his office.”
Sarah nodded. “We’ll go to the cliffs this morning, and you’ll have all afternoon. I’ll ask Halden to call Alex and make the appointment. In the meantime, why don’t you go out and tell Ross we’ll take Carefree and Daisy?”
“Will he be up?”
“Ross? As sure as the sun rises. This is midmorning for him.”
Jessie wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to see Ross this morning. Liar. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him. She wished it were that simple. It was herself she feared. She turned insensible when he was around.
“Go, Jessie,” Sarah said.
Jessie went, Ben romping beside her.
The barn door was open. Jessie told herself to control her roaring hormones.
She heard a soft nicker and went down to the end of the barn. Ross was talking softly to one of his charges as he poured oats into a feed bucket. She saw him run a hand fondly along the neck of the horse. It was a horse she didn’t know yet, but he nudged Ross with his handsome head.
Ross turned, obviously sensing her presence. “Jess,” he said in a cool voice.
His hair was still damp from a shower, his shirtsleeves rolled up. He was wearing the usual well-worn jeans. She’d never seen anyone look quite as … lethally attractive in them. But the coolness in his voice made her take a step back.
“Ross?”
His expression didn’t mellow. “Congratulations, I heard that you’re officially an owner now.”
She was baffled. “That sounds as if you don’t approve.”
“I don’t approve or disapprove.” His voice remained cool. She wondered whether Sarah had told him of her decision. “It’s none of my business.”
“I voted against the sale,” she said.
“I heard.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I didn’t want anything from you,” he said.
“Your mother …”
“She’s not my mother,” he said abruptly, and she knew he was angry. White-hot angry.
“She thinks she is.”
He turned to her. “My mother was an alcoholic who slept with a married man. Among others. I’m not even sure David Macleod was my father.” His voice was flat. But despite the lack of emotion, he seemed alone and exposed.
“Blood isn’t the only thing that makes a mother,” she said. “Mine left me when I was still a baby. She didn’t want to be burdened with a child.”
“Is that what your father told you?”
“No, but then I never heard another explanation, either.”
Ross didn’t say anything.
“Sarah said to tell you that we would be taking out Daisy and Carefree. Or do you think it’s okay for Sarah to ride? She looks … a little tired.”
“Neither you or I can keep her off a horse. She’s been riding since she was four. She won’t stop now.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said as she continued to watch his face. The reserve was still there, gathered around him like a cloak.
She started to go, then hesitated. “You’re angry.”
He stared right through her. “I’m just the hired help, ma’am.”
“You’re anything but just the hired help.”
“Ah, but not good enough to call when you were hurt.”
“I didn’t want you bothered. Everyone else was awake and …”
“And you’d told me about the letter.” He hesitated, then continued bitterly, “Elizabeth told me that you thought someone had hit you. Is that why you didn’t want Sarah to get me? Did you think I would ever hurt you?”
He’d figured it all out. And she saw the pain in his eyes. The pain that went hand-in-hand with his anger.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think so. I was confused yesterday morning. I hurt and I was scared, and I didn’t know what was going on. But whoever did it was a coward. And the one thing you’re not is a coward.”
He stood absolutely still for a moment, then slowly seemed to relax.
“I had better get back,” she said. “Sarah’s making breakfast.”
He nodded.
She found herself reluctant to leave, unwilling—or unable—to flee those searching dark eyes. The barn suddenly seemed very close. She shivered inside her skin but she couldn’t seem to move.
Ben barked, and both grateful and resentful for the interruption, she looked down. Although he stayed at her feet, his body wriggled frantically. He’d just seen Timber, who had come out of one of the stalls and stood next to Ross.
“I’ll miss him,” she said. She really meant she would miss both of them.
“Then don’t go.”
His words stunned her. And obviously from the look on his face they stunned him, too.
He turned his back as if to deny his words.
Left speechless and confused for a moment, she didn’t know how to answer. So she didn’t. She escaped instead into something easier. “We … we’ll be here in about a half hour,” she said.
“I’ll have the horses ready,” he said curtly.
She left while she could. He always sent her senses spiraling in storm-tossed confusion.
Breakfast was ready when she got back. Orange juice, berries, and a Southwestern omelet. But her appetite was gone, lost in that maelstrom of emotions Ross always stirred in her. Why couldn’t her heart beat faster when she was with Alex? He seemed so simple compared to Ross’s complexity. Yet never once had her heart jumped at just seeing him.
But neither had it felt fear.
She forced down some food. She knew it was good, but it still tasted like cardboard. Her enthusiasm for a ride had dimmed, also. Sarah, however, filled the silence with stories about the peoples who once lived here, and the pictographs they would see. “I hope Ross will go with us,” she said. “He knows far more about them than I do.”
That didn’t surprise Jessie. She remembered the intensity with which he’d talked about the kachina dolls, the rare enthusiasm she’d caught in his voice. But she doubted whether he would accompany them—though she suspected he was more concerned about Sarah’s health than he’d indicated.
Her heart pounded harder with expectation even as she helped Sarah clean up the dishes. Then she put Ben in her room and fed him. She’d told Sarah she would meet her at the barn.
When she arrived there, Ross was holding the reins of three saddled horses and she knew he intended to accompany them. “I don’t think you two should be out there alone,” he said simply as he handed her the reins to Carefree and watched as she lifted herself into the saddle. Sarah appeared then, refusing Ross’s offer of help. She mounted with the ease of someone who’d done it for a lifetime.
The morning was already warm. Heat radiated off the high desert. Jessie felt a denser heat, though, as Ross fell into an easy pace between Sarah and her. Timber ran behind them. Sarah, Jessie noted, wore a satisfied smile. Jessie suddenly wondered whether she’d planned this trip very carefully, using her health as a spur to both her and Ross.
Jessie reminded herself that she would be gone tomorrow, away from the manipulations, the emotional uncertainties and the dangers—real and imagined—of the Clementses. She shouldn’t feel so desolate about the prospect. She should feel relieved. Happy that she would receive some pittance over the years, and knowing that she had helped preserve this small piece of God’s garden.
They rode past the Saddle, the rock formation she’d visited before, and on toward a mountain. The sun crept higher into the sky as the horses passed several roads. Sarah explained that they were on federal land now, and Jessie saw Jeeps full of tourists heading up one steep road.
The three of them rode another fifteen minutes or so before stopping at the foot of a twisting trail. Sarah stopped. “I’m going to wait here,” she said, pointing to a large rock under a large pine tree.
Ross’s brows furrowed in concern. “Do you feel all right?”
“Yes indeed,” she said, “but that is a long ride up, and I think I would like to just sit in the shade.”
“We should go back,” Jessie said.
“No,” Sarah said sharply. “I want you to see this. Your father used to prowl all over these cliffs. I like to think that a little of him is still here. I’m fine, really I am. I love this spot.”
Jessie looked at Ross, who was regarding his adoptive mother with affectionate bemusement, but not worry. Jessie realized that she had planned the trip exactly this way.
“Jess?” he asked. “It’s a rough ride.”
It was a challenge. One she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of refusing.
She nodded.
“Follow me, then. Call out if you have any problem. The trail will take only one horse at a time.” His weighed her with his gaze.
“What about Timber?”
“Oh, he’ll do some exploring of his own. He won’t go too far away.”
She simply nodded again. Sarah, a satisfied look on her face, slid down from the horse and went to sit on the rock. Jessie had a momentary pause, wondering whether they should really leave her, then she saw Sarah’s wink. She turned her horse and started to follow Ross up the steep trail.
They seemed to climb forever. She had to focus all her attention on the trail ahead, though she let the horse do all the work. Ross rode in front of her, his body easily adapting to the sharp incline. It was far different from racing a horse around a level track. When they finally reached the top, he stopped until she reached his side. They rode around a rim, skirting prickly pear cactus, yucca, and bladelike needle-pointed agave plants. There was odorous evidence that elk and other wildlife were frequent visitors. From here, there was no sign of civilization, only a heavily wooded canyon framed by mountains. The land was wild and untouched, and the view was breathtaking.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“This is all national forest land,” he said. He slid from the saddle, then went over to her and held out his arms. She slid naturally into them, and their faces were inches apart. “You know Sarah planned all this,” he said.
“I do now.”
“You could have refused to come.”
“And miss all this? I want to see as much as I can while I’m here.” She wanted to say something else, that she relished the time spent with him. That she wanted to be with him. But the words went unsaid, exchanged only through the exquisite bond that always seemed to connect them. Exquisite and painful.
There was a sudden uncertainty in his face. He bent over, his lips touching hers very, very softly.
Her lips parted. She knew it wasn’t wise, but his mouth was searching, hesitant, almost achingly desperate. All the feelings she’d tried to subdue came tumbling out, the wreckage crashing around her. All she cared about was how much she wanted his touch. Her feelings were as intense and fiery and raw as they ever had been.
The almost fragile, hesitant quality of the kiss deepened, became something fierce and needy. His very touch singed her to the core. It always would, she knew. Just as she thought he would never be comfortable with it. She saw that knowledge in his eyes, in the desperation of his lips.
He held on to her as if she were his last link with life. He released her lips but cradled her body as if she were a butterfly that would escape once freed. Then he let her go. Physically. Emotionally he had her tied in knots.
He took her hand and led her carefully to the edge of what looked like a cliff. She looked down. The bottom was a long way. He let go, took several steps down, then held out his hand to help her. She tried not to look as she gingerly followed him. A few more feet, then they crawled over a tree and edged along a narrow ledge. For a moment her throat seemed to close. One false step could send her tumbling down the cliff. If Ross had ever meant her any harm, then this would be the place. But all she felt in his hand was confidence, power, and security. Finally, they stopped at a sheer piece of red rock.
His fingers were tight around hers as he showed her a series of pictures on the wall. Stick men and animal figures.
“They could be as much as three thousand years old,” he said. “This one was just recently discovered. We think it tells of an antelope hunt. Mind-boggling, isn’t it?”
“We?”
“I belong to an archeology group.” Yet another side to him, this man who seemed such a loner.
“You’re full of surprises,” she said.
“So are you,” he said. “I never thought …” He stopped.
“That I would vote to keep the ranch.”
“Yes.”
“Easy come, easy go,” she said lightly.
“It’s much more than that,” he said in a husky voice.
“I just don’t feel that any of the Clements money should be mine,” she said. “The others … they were born here, grew up here, worked on the ranch. They had a stake in it. I don’t think I do.”
“Your father gave up more than anyone else for this ranch,” he said, surprising her. Another little tidbit dropped. But never enough. Would there ever be enough?
“We had better go back,” he said.
She nodded. “I know Sarah will be ready, and I have to go into Sedona.”
“I think Sarah is prepared to wait,” he replied.
“You knew she was planning to disappear,” she accused him.
“I suspected, but if I hadn’t come, she would have brought you here herself and that would be far too dangerous for both of you. She’s not always steady on her feet but no one can tell her that. I try to keep an eye on her.”
She heard the affection in his voice. It seemed to contrast with his flat statement earlier. She’s not my mother. Whatever she was to Ross, it was important. She recalled the bitterness in his voice when he talked about his blood mother, and she wanted to know more about the boy in that picture in Sarah’s room. The thin, rebellious boy with a cowlick.
They moved along the ledge again, and she felt a moment of fear again. It faded quickly as she felt his reassuring presence, the way he placed himself between her and the emptiness below. It took them another thirty minutes or so to get back to the top of the rim. She’d squirmed over trees and scrambled across rocks and she wondered how Sarah could ever had made it. She almost didn’t.
But then she had seen Sarah ride, racing breakneck across the valley. Her aunt. And Halden, her uncle, who was still going strong in his nineties. At least she apparently had good genes.
A sense of pride filled her. She’d always been afraid of heights, and now she’d triumphed over several fears.
Ross took her hand as they walked to the horses. His dark eyes showed approval, as well as a glittering swell of passion. His lips curved into a slight smile. There was warmth in it that almost made her giddy. Her fingers curled around his larger ones, and everything seemed sharper, more intense, more alive. The sky was bluer, the sun brighter, the breeze more sensuous, the mountains around them more magnificent.
Already the land was pulling at her heart. It always would.
Just as she knew that Ross would always pull at her heart, that it would always make that funny little skip when he was near, and that the air would always be close between them, close and heavy and electrifying like the prelude to a storm.
He hesitated, then said, “Sarah said you plan to leave tomorrow.”
“If I get my business finished with Alex and I can get a flight.”
“Sarah was hoping you could stay longer.”
She noticed that he didn’t say he was hoping she would stay longer. “I can’t stay away from the bookstore. My partner has been covering for me, but he’s trying to write a book, and it’s not fair for me to be gone, and …” She was rambling on again. She never rambled like that. Except when she was with him. Except when she couldn’t tell the whole truth.
His dark eyes seemed to know that.
“Thank you for being kind to Sarah,” he said, releasing her hand.
Her world chilled.
“It’s easy to do. I like her.”
“You will come back again?” A muscle struggled in his cheek, and she sensed he wanted to say more.
“Now that I own a piece. You betcha.”
His lips curled into a smile, a wider one now. It was more glorious for its rarity. The spare face and all its angles softened.
“I’ll look forward to it,” he said.
“Will you?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Why unfortunately?” She was tired of his evasions.
He shrugged. “A lot of reasons.”
“Name just one.”
“Okay.” His eyes darkened. “I have Apache blood.”
“Who cares about that?”
“A lot of people in Arizona.”
“I’m not one of them.”
He turned away from her. “What did Sarah tell you about me?”
“Very little. Just that you came to live with them when you were twelve. That both your mother and grandmother had died. And that you were wild.”
“An understatement. My mother slept with any man who would buy her a drink. You can’t possibly know how many ‘uncles’ I had, nor how many times I heard ‘Indian whore’ or worse when my mother would try to rob them. In the end, I stole to keep her alive. But it didn’t do any good. She didn’t have a liver left.”
Jessie hurt for him, ached for a boy who’d seen too much and never had a childhood.
“I was ten when she died, and I was shipped off to my grandmother, who was Indian. She was a full-blooded Apache who’d married a white man and was shunned by both races. He left her before my mother was born. Didn’t want an Indian brat. I lived with her on a reservation for two years. She was forty-eight when she died, and she looked eighty. I was sent to a foster home, then another. No one kept me long, but then I didn’t want to be kept. I knew that if I formed an attachment to anyone, they would die or go away or send me away. So I made all the trouble I could, just daring them to send me back to Social Services.” He smiled, but this time it was a tight grimace.
“How did you happen to end up with Sarah?” she said.
“A social worker was at her wit’s end. She finally went back and reviewed all my records, looking for a relative. She saw David’s name and hunted him down. I think she went through a hundred Macleods. Then she discovered he was dead. But Sarah was interested, and they decided to give it a try.
“It wasn’t easy. I hated my father. He’d left me and he’d left my mother. He’d never sent one cent. I couldn’t imagine that Sarah would want her dead husband’s bastard. I still don’t know why she did it. Nor why she kept me. I did everything I could to discourage her.”
“She loves you as if you were her own.”
“It took me a long time to figure that out. Years, in fact.”
“But you still call her Sarah?”
“In my experience, that was a far better word than mother.”
She was silent. She’d learned long ago that silence was often the best prompter.
His lips curved upward again. Not exactly a smile. “You’re an easy woman to be with. Has anyone told you that?”
She didn’t know how to reply to that. The answer was, of course, no. But that was because she’d not been with many men.
Still, she understood what he’d just said, and the scars his childhood had left on him. She’d felt the taint of being abandoned by her mother. She knew what it felt like to be used by someone she thought she loved. But his blows had all been more powerful than hers. He’d not been able to trust anyone, not his mother, not the foster homes, not his first love. He’d built barriers to protect himself, and Sarah apparently had been the only person ever to breach them. Jessie knew how high those walls could be. She had constructed a few of her own.
She also knew what he was telling her. His barriers were still in place.
The knowledge was bitter. She’d had a fleeting glimpse of magic, and she wanted it to last. But she had seen too many women who thought they could change the man they wanted. It rarely, if ever, happened.
He was obviously still guarding his heart, and she didn’t know if he would ever open it. She was right in leaving while her heart was still intact. Or was it?
He was watching her with those dark eyes. Speculating? Desiring? Regretting? She didn’t know. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to decipher them. But the air was still charged between them, and she knew if she didn’t leave now, she might never leave. “I have to get back,” she said in a voice that seemed uncertain even to her.
“Yes,” he said simply.
She hated that simple acquiescence. She wanted him to take her in his arms and stroke her with the gentleness she remembered. No more confidences today. Certainly no request for her to stay. That blurted-out “Then don’t go” earlier didn’t qualify.
But he’d turned his attention to scanning the area. He called for his dog. In seconds, Timber came in a long-legged lope and stopped beside Ross.
Jessie settled into the saddle and watched as he mounted his own horse. His face was set in hard, implacable lines as he started back down the trail. It didn’t change when they met Sarah below.
The moment of magic was gone.