Quinn (11 page)

When Quinn turned away, he stepped out of the barn into a blinding snowstorm.

The snow had risen at least a foot in the hours that he’d spent working in the barn. And the wind had picked up, sending a spray of snow laced with ice against his face. Winter, he thought, was not giving in to the calendar without a fight. It may be springtime in Wyoming, but the land was still layered in snow.

Turning up the collar of his parka, he made his way to the house.

Inside it was as quiet as a tomb. A check on Cheyenne found her sound asleep, lying in the same position as when he’d left.

After adding a fresh log to the fire, he stood for long minutes watching the steady rise and fall of her chest.

The whiskey had erased her inhibitions. She’d never know how much that slow, easy kiss had made all the day’s chores more pleasurable. Just the thought of it had him smiling.

He returned to the kitchen. Lifting the lid of a large pot, he gave thanks for Micah’s chili. Ravenous, Quinn ate the first bowl cold while he heated the rest. Then he finished another heaping bowl of chili before starting a pot of coffee. While he waited for it to brew, he rummaged through the cupboards and found a package of chocolate chip cookies. Before he could open the package he heard a sound and looked over to see Cheyenne standing in the doorway.

“Never nap, huh?”

The teasing grin on his face had her laughing. “I guess there’s always a first time for everything.”

“How’re you feeling?” He set aside the cookies and started toward her.

“I’m fine. Great.” She rotated her arm and gave a slight grimace of pain. “By tomorrow, I’ll probably be good as new.”

“Want some chili?”

“You going to join me?”

“I just inhaled two bowls of it. But sit and enjoy, and by the time you’re done, the coffee will be ready.”

“Sounds great. Smells great, too. I’m sure it was the coffee brewing that woke me. Micah’s coffee always greets me first thing in the morning.” She nodded toward the door. “Maybe I’ll just go out to the barn first, and check on the calf.”

“I already did. He’s fine. So’s his mama.”

“I’d better take care of a couple of—”

He shook his head. “The chores are done for the day.”

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated—”

“Hey. We’re neighbors. That’s what neighbors do.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Thanks aren’t necessary. Now sit.” He turned away and filled a bowl with steaming chili before setting it in front of her.

“Oh.” While she ate she made little happy noises that had him grinning.

When she looked up and saw his face she stopped. “What?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never known anybody to eat and hum, or should I say hum while they’re eating?”

“I hum?”

“Um-hmm.” He imitated her until she was howling with laughter.

“Do I really sound like that?”

He nodded, and she only laughed harder.

After emptying the bowl she sat back with a sigh of pure contentment. “I feel fantastic.” She glanced at the last of the daylight beginning to fade outside the windows. “I can’t remember the last time I slept away an entire day.”

“After that accident, I’d say you earned it.”

He saw the sudden frown that clouded her features.

He filled two mugs with coffee. “How long has that mustang been trained for the saddle?”

She accepted the coffee from him and sipped. “A couple of months. I guess that’s not nearly enough. We have a herd of mustangs that roam freely across our land, at least
the part of our land that isn’t fenced. This one kept hanging around the pasture, and I figured I’d add him to our stock. He’s always been a bit high-strung, but until today he’s never done anything like that.”

Quinn nodded and leaned against the counter while he drank his coffee. “Something definitely spooked him. Maybe it was me. Maybe the storm. Whatever it was, I’d be cautious around him until you decide whether or he’s just skittish or a real danger.”

“Yeah. I was just thinking the same thing. If I’d been alone out there, I could have been killed.” She cocked her head to one side. “Why do I get the feeling that I already said that?”

She fell silent, staring intently into her cup. She could almost hear the bits and pieces of her earlier conversation with him flitting through her mind as she searched her memory.

At her silence he decided to keep things light.

He set aside his empty mug. “I ought to get on my way.”

Her head came up quickly. “I know you need to get back on the trail, but as long as it’s so late, why not stay another night?”

At his arched brow she was quick to add, “That way, you can get a fresh start in the morning.”

Was she afraid to be alone, now that she’d been injured? Was her arm more painful than she let on? He gave a negligible shrug of his shoulders. “Suits me.”

She visibly relaxed. “Good. You going to pass those chocolate chip cookies over, or are you keeping them all for yourself?”

His grin was quick and potent. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. I guess now I’ll have to share.” He shoved
the bag across the table and watched as she helped herself to a handful before passing the bag back to him.

He refilled his mug and topped off hers before taking a seat, stretching out his long legs contentedly.

They sat together, watching the last of the day’s light fade into darkness, drinking their coffee and munching on cookies.

It was, Quinn thought, such a simple thing. But after his long, solitary time on the trail, it seemed all the more satisfying. Though he was a loner by nature and by choice, he missed home and family when he was out in the wilderness. What he missed most, he thought, were simple things. Discussing ranch problems with his father and grandfather. The laughter and teasing that was always present in his relationship with his brothers. The ebb and flow of conversation that was as natural to all of them as breathing.

Though most of his friends were married, he’d never considered it an option. What woman in her right mind would want a man who spent half his life in the wilderness chasing after wolves and the other half seeing to his family ranch?

Not that he gave much thought to marriage. He figured he’d never miss what he never had. And though there had been plenty of willing women, there had never been that one special one who made him ache with need.

Now where had that come from? He glanced across the table and felt again the quick rush of heat he’d experienced when he’d kissed Cheyenne. She wasn’t so much an ache as an itch that needed scratching.

Dangerous territory
, he thought.

Needing to do something, he stood and began clearing the table.

Cheyenne got to her feet. “You did the dishes last night. It isn’t fair that you do them again.”

“Fair?” He turned her protest into a joke. “Woman, who said anything in life’s fair? You need to rest that shoulder.” He pressed her back into the chair. “If you want to help, sit here and keep me company.”

Cheyenne watched as he quickly dispatched the dirty dishes to the dishwasher. With a few quick wipes of the table, the countertops, the sink, the job was done easily.

“Now that wasn’t hard to watch, was it?”

“Not at all.” It was on the tip of Cheyenne’s tongue to say he was very easy to look at. Again she had the distinct impression that she’d already told him that.

Aware of where her thoughts were heading, she decided to match his light tone with her own. “You keep that up, you may have a shot at taking over Micah’s job if he ever decides to retire.”

“A word of warning.” He chuckled. “I may have picked up a few cooking tips along the trail, but most of them are just to stave off starvation. Anything fancy, I’m not your man.”

“
Fancy
doesn’t exactly describe my taste in food.”

“No, but having tasted Micah’s flapjacks, I’d say you’re already spoiled. Anything I offered would be like yesterday’s oatmeal. Lumpy, and tasting like glue.”

“Thanks for that warning. I guess Micah will have to stick around for another few years.”

Quinn held up the coffeepot. “There’s just enough left for two more cups.”

When he’d filled their mugs, he said, “I wouldn’t mind sitting by the fire before I go up to bed.”

“Great idea.” Cheyenne was oddly pleased that the evening wasn’t over. Smiling, she led the way to the great room.

Q
uinn tossed a fresh log on the coals, sending a shower of glowing embers dancing up the chimney. His interest was snagged by the array of framed photos on the mantel. He focused on the largest one.

“This has to be your dad. You look just like him.”

Cheyenne walked up beside him. “Yeah. Funny. I’m the image of my father, except for his red hair. My brother, Buddy, looked just like our mother. She was from the Northern Cheyenne Arapaho. Buddy’s given name was Daniel Eknath O’Brien, but we never called him anything except Buddy.”

“Eknath? Yeah. Definitely Arapaho.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m surprised that you know that.”

He shrugged. “Ela has been with our family since my dad was a boy. We’ve all picked up words and phrases from her. She told us that her name means ‘earth.’ What does ‘Eknath’ mean?”

“ ‘Poet. Saint.’ ” She smiled dreamily. “It suited him. He loved reading and writing. He always kept a journal. When I was a kid, he let me read parts of it. Beautiful passages about this part of the country, and its changing seasons. My mother always hoped he would become the great American writer who would introduce the Arapaho culture to the world.”

Her smile grew. “Buddy was four years older than me, and I was his shadow. Wherever Buddy was, my folks knew they’d find me trailing behind. I absolutely adored him. In my eyes, Buddy could do no wrong.” She shook her head. “I still find it hard to believe he’s gone.”

“What happened?”

She stared into the flames of the fire. “An accident on the highway. His truck skidded off the road. He died before the authorities could get to the site.”

“Was he alone?”

She pointed to another photo, of two young men standing beside the barn, wearing matching smiles. “That’s his friend Austin Baylor. He was driving behind Buddy and saw everything. Austin was too late to save him.” She took a deep breath. “They’d been drinking at the Watering Hole, a bar in town.”

Quinn nodded. “Everyone in this part of the state knows the Watering Hole.”

“Buddy wasn’t much of a drinker, so it wouldn’t have taken much for him to get drunk. Dad and I were shocked that he’d drink and drive, though. It was really out of character for Buddy.”

“I’m sorry. How long ago did this happen?”

“Two years ago.” She shivered despite the heat of the fire. “My dad was really devastated. Buddy had pretty much taken over the operation of the ranch. Dad had
finally reached a point in his life where he was able to kick back and move at a slower pace. That suited both of them perfectly, since Dad was a slow-and-easy kind of guy and Buddy was a take-charge person who never even knew what
slow
meant. They’d been a perfect balance for one another. And then Buddy was gone. My poor dad was lost.”

“You had to be just as affected by it.”

She nodded. “My heart was broken. It still is. Everywhere I look, I see Buddy, and all the things he loved here. It took me the longest time to accept that he was really gone. But I had to, for my dad’s sake. He was determined to move forward, despite our loss. Wes Mason, our foreman, wanted to hire a couple of wranglers to fill Buddy’s position, but when Austin offered to step in, Dad insisted that Wes give him a chance to prove himself.”

She sighed. “Dad knew that Austin was carrying a load of guilt after witnessing Buddy’s death. Austin kept bemoaning the fact that he could have done more. Dad thought it would be a chance for Austin to put the past behind him.”

“That sounds like a good arrangement. How’s it working out?”

She pointed to a photo of an older man with his arm around a younger man’s shoulders. “It wasn’t long before Dad was calling Austin his second son. It’s funny. Dad was a stickler for rules. Everything had to be done a certain way.” She chuckled. “His way. But in Austin’s case, he was always willing to go that extra mile. No matter how many things Austin did wrong, or how badly he messed up, Dad would have a logical explanation. I’d hear him telling the wranglers that Austin was a city boy. He’d never been on a ranch before. The crew was expected to
cut him a lot of slack. Dad insisted that he’d get the hang of things when he’d had more time under his belt.”