“Another message from the clinic?” Kiersten muttered the next morning, annoyed that she’d missed the call.
She dialed voice mail and listened to the message. “Hi, Kiersten. This is Yvonne at Dr. Campbell’s office. I need you to call me as soon as possible. Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah. Done that.” She erased the message. “Hey Tex,” she called toward the bathroom. “You drivin me to town to help Nate?” He was shaving, and she watched him from the door while waiting for his answer.
“Maybe, uh, you should relax. Nate could find somebody else to help him with the sheep.” He grinned and met her eyes in the mirror. “Maybe Clay.”
“Maybe you could do it, wise-ass, big shot cattleman.” She giggled, running her hands over his so smooth face. Looking at him brought tears to her eyes for some reason, maybe because of that I love you look he was wearing. Hopefully she had hers on, too. She wanted to say the words, but they seemed to stick in her throat.
“What’s wrong, Rocky?”
“Nothing.” She knuckled the corners of her eyes. “I guess smacking my head made me emotional, is all.”
“I’m gonna go start my coffee. You want me to warm up those cinnamon rolls?”
“Sure. I need to go online and transfer some money to pay the trucks. I’ll be right there.”
She joined Cleve at the table, pensive and not especially hungry. In fact, she felt a little sick.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Nate got somebody to help with the sheep.”
“Is that bad?”
“Um...no.” The rest of his email was, though. If Nate had been experiencing some emotional blip yesterday when he’d kissed her, he would’ve felt silly about it later and made a joke. Instead, he’d apologized, as if it was the first time they’d ever kissed. Oh, Nate. Why was he doing this now? Did he just not want to be happy, ever?
“Rocky.” Cleve’s interrogator voice was on. “I read your email by accident.”
“Oh.” Now that she thought of it, that message had been opened before. He had no business! When had Cleve read it, and how’d he feel when he did? Must’ve been while she was sleeping. But he hadn’t said anything to her till now.
“Accident?” How do you read by accident?
“I wasn’t thinking when I opened Outlook to check my own email, and there it was, marked urgent, so I read it right away.” He looked at the floor for a moment, then shook his head and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry. I knew it was for you, but after you took off inside with him yesterday, I was crazy jealous about you takin his side. And then he wouldn’t talk to you when you came out... Well, I knew somethin was up. I deserve to suffer and wonder what the hell happened, for snoopin. I’m sorry,” he repeated. His black eyes didn’t waver or look away at all.
She could trust him. He wasn’t playing a game like Luke would have been.
“You are a nosey shit.” Her arms folded over her stomach, where the smell of his coffee and nerves over Nate were creating a cold-sweat-causing discomfort. He was probably waiting for her to yell and tell him to get out, but instead she looked at her toenails, which were sadly in need of polish. Well, she had her own confession to make. She’d never told him quite all of her history with Nate. And that night at the hotel was her fault. “I think Nate’s...confused. He was upset yesterday. He hugged me, and then, um, kissed me. Only once though.” Would he be as forgiving as he was repentant? “I think he felt guilty because he was off with someone else when I was in danger. He’s made it his life mission to look out for me these last couple years, and now he thinks he fell short. I guess I need to make him understand that it’s okay for him to have a life, even if one day he moves on to another job so he can be with somebody he cares for.”
“He cares for you.”
“Not like you think. He’s confused, is all. One night when you first moved here, we went out—”
“The date?”
“Yeah. Anyway, he’d already decided, or guessed, that I was into you.”
Cleve’s grin gave her much-needed courage to continue.
“We had an argument about it because I kept telling him I didn’t need a man, not even for sex. So he, like, decided to prove how horny I was. We were both drunk, and it got kinda out of hand. But we didn’t have sex.” Damn close to it, though. Jesus, what was she doing telling Cleve this? No good could come from it. “Damn. You didn’t even have to tie me to a chair and shine a bright light in my eyes. You’re some interrogator, mister. Let’s go.”
She was up, pushing her chair in, when he seized her hand. “You’re not telling me everything.”
“Everything?” She laughed, but without humor. “I told you everything you want to know.” He wouldn’t like hearing about Nate’s ‘I love you’. “Bottom line is, if it wasn’t for Nate, I wouldn’t have gone to bed with you. I’m not gonna ask you to give me all the details of your affair with Witless Whitney, and I’d like the same respect.”
“Whitney,” Cleve said in a growling tone, “isn’t hangin around here, always touchin me and sneakin off for stolen kisses.”
Her flaming face should tell him how pissed she was. “The kiss won’t happen again. I’ll get Nate straightened out, but he’s part of my life. Accept it, or not. Your choice.”
Yanking her hand from his, she already regretted loving him. She could never choose between him and Nate. The tears were back, so she stormed off to the bathroom to wash them away.
On the way to the vet’s, Cleve broke their silence. “I never knew I was the jealous type till you. Guess no other girl ever mattered so much. Sorry.”
She slid across the seat and buckled up next to him. Even as his arm slid around her shoulder, she knew his jealousy was not unfounded. But what should she do about it?
At the vet’s office, Oscar stretched his nose toward her, trying to stand as the tech held him down. At least he was awake, if a bit groggy. His tail wagged, though his ears drooped. And he smelled good from his bath, which was just plain wrong. It upset her, the way the ER smell had always upset her since her dad’s crash. She cried when she had to hand him over for the tech to put him back in the small cage, even though she knew he couldn’t be out running free like he wanted. He’d have to stay another couple of days, which she tried to explain to him.
Cleve was off doing something with the body of her assailant and the vet. She had no interest in seeing it again, so she waited in his truck and called Grandpa.
“Hey, Grandpa,” she said when he answered Aunt Sophie’s phone. “How’s the city?”
“Not as quiet as the ranch, Peanut. What’s new?”
“Well, nothing good. Oscar got attacked by a loose Doberman yesterday, and he’s pretty torn up. He’ll have to be at the vet’s another couple days.”
“That ain’t gonna be cheap. How you payin for it?”
She sighed and let her head flop back. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll take a job in town for a while. I used to make good tips when I waited tables in college.”
“You got a damn college degree. I didn’t send you through seven years of school so you could work for minimum wage.”
“Well, I can’t really go do eye exams right now, can I? I’ll figure something out, don’t worry. Maybe Dr. Gray will take payments for Oscar’s bill.”
“Yeah,” Grandpa said, “you got lots of money comin in later on, right? Why don’t you admit it would be a better idea to sell the Peak? You could build yourself a fine house right on the ranch and live happily ever after, instead of worryin about money day and night. Ranching doesn’t ever get easier. There’s always some big expense sneakin up on ya. Just when you think you got your head above water, the waves get bigger.”
“Oh, Grandpa.” She’d started crying again. What he said was true, but it didn’t make it hurt less. “Take your iron pills, okay?”
“Bye, Peanut. Take care.”
The tears ran. She tried so hard to carry on the family business, but he couldn’t understand why. To him, ranching was a losing battle, and he’d never understand her need to fight it.
* * * *
A mushroom cloud of dust hovered over the sheep-filled corral. Distressed ewes called their babies. Lambs bawled for their mothers, separated in the fracas of being crowded into progressively smaller pens until they were loping, single file, through the narrow loading chute into trailers. The ewes would have an inkling of where they were going, having gone there every summer. Sunny hillsides, longer grass, and during hot afternoons, plenty of chokecherry bushes and aspen trees to shade up under. Once unloaded, each mother would mill around and find her lambs by their unique cries. Then she’d lead them away and nibble the tender mountain greens while her lambs nursed, as much to calm themselves as out of nutritional need.
Kiersten eyed the healthy lambs with pride and affection, leaning against the fence as she watched Nate urging the sheep toward the chute. He and Clay had moved the sheep near the corral early this morning. Now Clay was talking with Cleve, while Nate and Bobby from down the road handled the stock with ease.
Clay listened as Cleve told him in a lowered voice what he’d discovered at the vet’s. “The vet got the sheriff to find out who owned the Doberman. It was registered to a guy named Mick Miller, in Denver. The vet rinsed him off, and his nose was covered with scars. Cigarette burns. His name was Hitler. Looked like he’d been a fightin dog for quite a while.”
“Didn’t you say that Trayce character was some kind of Neo-Nazi?” he asked.
“Yeah. My gut tells me this guy is a buddy of Gunther’s.” Cleve studied him, narrowing his eyes. “You seem kinda out of sorts, like you’re sick.”
* * * *
Clay kept the reason for his sleepless night to himself. Cleve would know he was lying, but it was no good telling him the truth. Shortly after nodding off, he’d been wakened by Nate talking vividly about Kiersten. In his sleep. “Guess all the excitement yesterday, you know, the blood and then watchin you Neanderthals get ready to beat snot out of each other.”
It was a cop-out, a way to sidetrack Cleve by reminding him of his stupidity. But it was partially true. Clay had always been upset by animals being hurt, and by people fighting.
“Still Mr. Make-Love-Not-War, aren’t ya bro?” Cleve clapped him on the back. “We’ll get it straightened out.”
As Cleve moved to drape a possessive arm around Kiersten, he guessed Cleve knew exactly what had been worrying him. The way Kiersten’s body melted into Cleve’s, he figured his brother didn’t have much to worry about.
* * * *
“Tell me how an eye doctor can be so proud of a bunch of sheep,” Cleve prompted when they were driving back to the Peak ahead of the trucks.
“I grew up a rancher. It’s part of me. What I’ve always wanted to be.”
“That’s a hell of a degree to get, for sheep-ranchin. You might be a bit over-qualified.”
“I got my degree for Grandma. My dad was an optometrist, and she so wanted me to be one, especially since I was a girl. It’s not that I didn’t like it. Just wasn’t my dream career.”
“Scrapin by, wakin up all hours of the night to bring in new lambs, watchin predators eat ’em alive, that’s your dream career?”
“Have you ever touched the soft hair on a lamb’s nose? Wait till you see the lambs run along the ridge by the cabin. They play follow the leader, and when one goes jumping and bucking, the others do it, but exaggerated. It’s one of the funniest things in the world. I love to hear the sound of a ewe calling her babies to her when they wander off. Wanting them nearby is a part of me, like the Peak is. Don’t you feel that way about cattle? Cows?”
“I guess I came back to it, after all. But it’s more of a legacy than what I need to be happy.”
She snorted. Cattleman. Of course he wouldn’t get it. How could a cattle rancher possibly feel a similar attachment to big, dumb cows? “You’re going to all this work to build this ranch because what, your dad expects it?”
“I’ve got other plans for this Flyin H, Rocky. The cattle will get me by till I can get a first-class huntin retreat runnin. Who knows, maybe I’ll stick with the cattle afterward, too.”
“I take it Big Daddy doesn’t know of your alternative-ranching visions?”
“No way.”
She giggled, imagining a puff-faced Texan glowering at the idea of his son daring to do his own thing. He’d probably wear a big white hat like Chaz, or a black one, since the devil had to own his soul by now.
* * * *
Oscar came home on Thursday, with a pile of prescriptions and care instructions. Dr. Gray’s receptionist told Kiersten no payment was due. The Society of Multi-Breed Dogs had donated funds in light of Oscar’s heroic efforts. Something was rotten in Denmark. But, happy to take Oscar home, she didn’t argue.
They made a stop by the ranch so Kiersten could pick up her mail and leave Nate the clothes she’d borrowed.
“Nate, guess what?” Kiersten rushed in the front door. “Oscar’s whole treatment was paid for by some goofball philanthropic foundation for Heinz 57 dogs.”
“What was it, the Ugly Dog’s Advocacy?” Nate teased.
“He’s not ugly. He’s brave. And speaking of ugly, here are those hideous shorts you made me wear the other day. I don’t know why you didn’t put me in your Tommy shorts. Talk about adding insult to injury.” Nate had loaned her his favorites, but he needed to pay for calling Oscar ugly. She held the shorts out by the tip of her index finger and thumb, as if they offended her.
“You naughty little bitch, I oughtta...” With one glance at Cleve, he froze. “You’re too cold, girlfriend, way too cold. Your mail’s on the table.” Then he swept from the room with as much flamboyance as possible.
“Shit!” Her expletive brought both twins’ heads up. “I have to go to the clinic again? Well, maybe if they took the damn Pap right the first time, it wouldn’t come out abnormal. Goddamn.” Still clutching the postcard, she dialed the clinic and set an appointment for Monday.
“Incompetence,” she complained when she’d ended the call. “Okay, Tex, you ready to take Oscar home?”
“Wait, Kie. I think I’m ready to take that time off,” Nate said. “Without pay.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, vacation? Clay invited me to Texas. We’ll leave in another week. I was thinking of taking off two we—”
“Not what do you mean ‘time off,’” she snapped. “What do you mean ‘without pay?’”
“I know money’s tight right now, so—”
“That is such bullshit. You’re getting a paid vacation, Cook. You haven’t taken time off in almost three years and there’s no way I’m not paying you now. Your wages are in the budget and that’s final.”
“Losing the shop wasn’t in the budget, Kie. I’m fine for money.”
“So am I. Don’t piss me off. Come on, Cleve.”
Cleve shrugged at Nate and followed her out the door.
“Impossible little bitch,” Nate called after her, laughing with Clay when she raised her middle fingers to him.
“Keep it up and you’ll get a raise,” she yelled out the window as they drove away.
“Did you do that because you believe a live-in ranch hand deserves a paid vacation, or because you can’t stand the idea of havin anybody’s help?” Cleve asked.
With her arms folded over her chest, she told him, “Shut up.”
“Funny how you always tell the other person to shut up because you’ve got nothin to say.”
Turning, she faced him as he drove. “Where do you suppose the Society of Oscar Meyer Dogs gets their money, Howell?”
His gaze skittered to her and then back to the road. “Um, from members or raffles or bingo nights, I guess.”
“I love you, you big fool. You left your freakin credit card slip on the counter. Here it is.” After holding it up for him to see, she stuck it in the cubby above his stereo.
“Not very smooth, huh?” he said with a sheepish grin.
She laughed and shook her head. “No, not very. You can take it out of what you pay me for the hunting.”
“I been thinkin about that. I can get that money right away, if you need it. But this was a gift, to Oscar, to thank him for savin you.”
“Like Oscar’s gonna lie awake nights, worrying about how to pay his bills.”
“I don’t want you to either, Rocky.” His expression was serious. “There’s a biological need for a man to take care of his woman, you know. Besides, it was worth every penny to get you to say you love me.”
In spite of the curvy road, she fell asleep against him and didn’t wake until they’d parked in front of his new home-to-be. With the full basement dug, concrete trucks were filling forms.
“What’s this gonna be, like a sixteen bedroom house or something?” She perpetually teased him about how huge his house would be, and he teased her about the remodel she’d completed on her cabin, converting it into a mere two bedrooms.
He opened the door and they got out, hand in hand. “Downstairs’ll be mostly a game room and a den for the kids.”
“Kids, huh? Do they come in the package with the wife in the kitchen, or do you have to pay extra for them?”
Cleve halted their trip toward the contractor’s trailer, and turning, searched her gaze. He shook his head, then stared at her for several long seconds, looking crushed.
Had he truly believed she could ever be First Lady Flyin H?
“Oh, ho! No, no, no. You’re a dreamer, Howell. Big Daddy would have me capped before he’d let me in this famn damily.” Palms out, she held her hands in front of her chest as she backed away. Damn it.
“Rocky...”
“Oh hi, Tucker,” she called to the general contractor, already on his way over. Perfect escape. “I better check on Oscar.” She climbed in the back seat, where Oscar scrunched in a carrier.
If only she could contain Cleve just as easily.
* * * *
Cleve tailed his builder, trying to follow the man’s report on the progress of his house. His home, that he planned to share with Kiersten. Why in hell would she think he’d have any other woman for a wife? She couldn’t love him and then let go. Were all women this hard to figure? She couldn’t keep using Pop as an excuse. A grown man thirty years old could marry whoever the hell he wanted, and his father wouldn’t be stopping it. And his lady shouldn’t be worried about his father either.
Then again, he knew how he’d feel if he and Winston didn’t get along. Or worse yet, were enemies like Rocky and Pop.
He’d say no more about the house or his wife.
Until he had a ring, he couldn’t make a proper proposal.