Cowboy's Bride (15 page)

"Damn straight, I am.
Go to sleep," he
growled.

* * *

Trace hung up the phone and moved to the
window, staring out across the darkness to where he knew her house
sat.
He couldn't stop thinking about her.
And her provocative
conversation wasn't helping.
He couldn't deny the ache that he
carried around all the time, wanting her.
He wasn't used to women
like her.
She had been delighted, positively sparkling when they
discussed the roundup.
She hadn't been overwhelmed by all the
details that needed attention.
She hadn't been cowed by the work
involved.
She'd plunged right in.
Happy.

He'd heard from Bob Marshall and Tom Hyden
already.
They were sending men to the roundup, both coming
themselves, just to meet the new neighbor and see if she was as
dainty as the bank president had said.

They sounded pleased with Kalli.
For a
moment he frowned.
He didn't want other men around her.
He didn't
want her fitting into the community, making friends.
Didn't want
her doing anything that was going to make it harder for her to
leave.
She was so stubborn already, any slight foothold would only
strengthen her resolve to remain.

He leaned his arm against the window frame
and leaned closer to the glass, seeing his reflection, seeing it
fade as his imagination pictured her in bed, with one of those soft
T-shirts she wore.
Her legs would be bare.
She'd have taken off her
panties.
Her dark silky hair would be spread out over the white
pillowcase, soft and wavy.
He clenched his hand into a fist, trying
to erase the feel of her hair from his fingertips.
She'd been so
responsive last night, despite her injuries.
God, when she'd been
beneath him in her bed that morning it had taken all his control to
keep from ripping off his jeans and plunging into her wet heat.

She was so pretty.
All over.
Her hair was
always clean and glossy and smelled slightly of strawberries.
He
loved the feel of it against his rough hands.
He wondered why he'd
ever liked blondes.
That glossy midnight black hair held far more
appeal.
Her sparkling eyes were always laughing.
Well, almost
always.
Other times they were snapping in anger at him.
Or soft as
a velvet night in summer when he was kissing her.
And she packed
more passion in that little body of hers than anyone he'd ever
met.

Even Alyssa.

Hell, he didn't want to think about Alyssa.
But he should.
He kept her picture by his bed to remind him every
day.
He needed to remember how crazy he'd been for her, almost as
crazy as he felt around Kalli.
Crazy enough to marry her.
Which had
proved a major disaster.
She'd left, abandoning him and their
daughter.
Taking all the money they'd saved to expand the ranch.
Leaving her husband and baby to struggle for years to bring the
ranch around.
And she'd been more used to ranches and cowboys and
the kind of life he led than Kalli.
Starry-eyed, optimistic Kalli
who wanted to live on a ranch, but didn't have a clue to what all
that entailed.
No, he better not forget Alyssa and the lesson she'd
taught him.
Turning away in disgust, he prepared for bed.

When Kalli awoke the next morning she felt
better.
Except for the ache in her ankle and the bruise on her
shoulder, she felt normal.
The stiffness from riding had
disappeared.
The aches from her fall had faded.
She continued to
use the crutches, to give her ankle the best care she could.
But
she was on the mend.
Fixing herself breakfast, she noticed Trace's
truck was parked in its usual spot.
He hadn't stopped in to see
her, however.
Had he come early, when she'd still been asleep?
Surely he'd stop in before he left for home.
She'd see him
then.

Impatient with being stuck inside on such a
beautiful day, Kalli nevertheless headed for the office once
breakfast was behind her.
She wanted to be caught up on the blasted
records so she could turn to other activities.
Her ankle provided
the perfect excuse to finish the computer work.
Once she was fit
again, she wanted to be out doing things, not stuck in the office.
And once Trace showed her how to run reports and what they meant,
she'd be that much closer to being a true rancher.

She hoped once everything was input that it
wouldn't take long to do the chore each week.
She understood how
important it was from a business point of view to keep records up
to date.
She had always been meticulous with her patients' records.
But bookkeeping just wasn't fun for her.
She'd much rather be with
people.

Early afternoon had her finishing April
receipts.
She only had the current month's bills, records and
payments to do and she would be caught up.
Stretching, she winced
slightly when her sore shoulder protested, then eased back in the
chair.
Time for a break.

Wandering out on the porch, she gazed off
across the fields toward the mountains.
Would she ever get tired of
the view?
The slight breeze seemed to come straight from the
highest peak, carrying with it the fresh scent of snow and grass
and clean air.
Quite a change from Boston.

When she was feeling better, and the ranch
was running smoothly, she'd like to take a short trip to
Yellowstone, see more of the countryside.
She sighed, wishing Trace
would offer to take her.
But knowing him, he probably didn't do
anything that wasn't related to his ranch.
Did he ever have
fun?

She spotted Becky on her horse coming up the
drive.
Smiling, she called a greeting.

"Hi, what brings you this way?"

"Hi, Kalli.
I'm looking for Dad again.
Is he
here?"

"No, his truck's been here since this
morning, but I haven't seen him or any of the men all day.
Come in
and visit awhile."

Becky hesitated, then nodded.
"I'll leave my
horse by the corral."

Kalli watched as the girl competently
dismounted and loosened the girth on the saddle.
She made sure her
horse had some water, then tied him in the shade of the big
barn.

"I was just taking a break," Kalli said as
Becky joined her on the porch.

"From what?
What can you do with a busted
ankle?"

"It's only sprained, thank goodness.
And
I've been a slave to the computer all morning.
I feel as if my mind
is one big number."

"Dad has a computer."

"Does he use it all the time?"

"A lot.
Most nights he does some work on it.
That way it doesn't all pile up," she said, as if she was quoting
her father.

"Well, I wished he'd done more about keeping
up this one.
Not that it was his place," Kalli said quickly at the
look Becky gave her.
"But it would have been a help to me.
I don't
know much about computers to begin with, and having to spend hours
every day with them is not why I came to Wyoming."

"Why did you come?
Just to see the
ranch?"

"Yes.
And to live here.
I love it."

"It's early yet, you won't like it for
long."

"I think I will.
I used to visit it when I
was a teenager.
I've always loved it."

"My mom was from Colorado, used to ranches
and everything, and she left.
Dad said she thought it was too...
too something that means out in the boonies," Becky said.

"Isolated?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Do you find it isolated?" Kalli asked.

"No, I like it."

"Are you still in school?"

"Naw, we're out for the summer."

"So what do you do for fun?"

"Ride, swim, help my dad.
He's teaching me
how to be a rancher.
I'll own the Flying Cloud Ranch someday," she
said.

"What if he marries again, and has more
kids.
Wouldn't you have to share?"

Becky shrugged.
"I don't guess he'll ever
marry.
My mom's been gone since I was a baby and I'm almost
grown."

Kalli hid a smile, trying to remember back
to when she was twelve.
It seemed so long ago.
Yet she remembered
feeling quite grown-up.

"He might find someone someday and
marry."

"I asked him once, but he said he didn't
need a wife, that things were just fine the way they were.
Once,
when I was a kid, I wanted a mother.
I'm the only one in my class
that doesn't have one.
Or one that lives with us, I guess I
mean."

"Trace said you don't see your mother."

"Naw, she didn't want to be bothered with
me."

Kalli didn't know what to say.
She didn't
know enough about what had actually happened to offer platitudes to
Becky.
And she wasn't one to cover up.
Life was hard, and Becky
seemed well-adjusted despite not having a mother.

"So when you were a kid you wanted a mother,
but not now?"

Becky shrugged.
"I don't know.
Might be
nice.
Someone to go shopping with besides Dad.
He doesn't like
looking at clothes or make up or things like that."

Kalli smiled.
"I imagine your father is a
difficult man to go shopping with.
He probably has a list and walks
right over to what be has on the list, buys it, then leaves."

Becky glanced at her and smiled, nodding.
"Exactly."

"My brothers are like that.
Whereas we women
know the best way to shop is to examine everything, then we can
select exactly the right item.
And sometimes it's fun just to
browse.
I know my mother and I love to shop.
There's this place in
Boston, called Filene's, where you can get the best bargains.
We'll
spend hours there and sometimes not even buy a single thing.
But
it's fun.
We talk and visit and get away from the men.
Did you know
I have five brothers?"

"Wow.
How did you stand it?"

"They're great.
You can meet them when they
come to visit me."

"If you stay that long," Becky said.

"Now you sound like your father.
Want to
make some brownies?"

"What?"

"We can make some brownies.
I'm hungry for
something chocolate, and it's more fun to do things together with
someone."

Becky hesitated, looking away.
"I've never
made brownies," she said finally.

"Well, you won't learn any younger.
In fact,
you can do most of the work, since I'm almost an invalid."

"I'm sorry you got hurt," Becky said
slowly.

"No big deal.
If I can't manage a horse,
maybe I'll buy a pony."

Becky giggled.
"Ranchers don't ride
ponies."

"Your father had a slightly glazed look when
I told him, as well.
I guess that means I'll have to master
horsemanship.
Come on and let's make brownies."

Deciding it would be selfish for them to
make brownies only for themselves, they made two big batches, one
for Kalli and enough for Becky to take home.
The second batch was
for the men when they came in.

Kalli enjoyed the afternoon.
Becky was a
mixture of shyness and bold opinions.
Many of the opinions directly
reflected those of her father.
Kalli laughed out loud a couple of
times when Becky reminded her strongly of Trace.
It seemed odd to
hear his words from a young girl.

Becky was taking the final batch from the
oven when Trace walked in.
The kitchen was a mess.
Several bowls
were lined up on the counter, racks of cooling brownies jockeyed
for space on the table.
Flour, sugar and chocolate dotted
everything.
Kalli sat in a chair, her injured ankle resting on the
seat of another, directing Becky.