The Color of Forever: Book Two: Forever Cowboys Series (3 page)

“So where are you taking me, Ben?” Samantha asked, slanting a glance across the cab of the pickup truck at its driver. He had a really good profile, she noticed. Strong and manly with a firm jaw and a nose that would have been perfect if not for a very slight bump at the bridge. Not enough of a bump to detract from his handsome face, but just enough to lend a note of machismo and keep him from being too pretty.

“We’re going to check out an eagle’s nest,” he replied. “A hunter reported seeing someone trying to rappel down to the overhang where there is a nest so I’m trying to keep an eye on it.”

“Why would anyone disturb the nest?” Sam asked.

Ben frowned. “Unfortunately, both bald and golden eagles are poached and sold for their body parts and feathers. Some poachers steal the eggs from an eagle’s nest and then sell them on the black market or attempt to hatch them in an incubator.”

Sam was shocked. “But, isn’t the bald eagle our national emblem? Surely there are laws against killing them.”

“Yeah, there are laws in place to protect both the golden eagle and the bald eagle. But poachers don’t let a little something like breaking the law stand in their way. That’s where I come in. Part of my job as a game warden is to catch and arrest poachers and anyone that hunts out of season, fishes without a license or fails to observe the laws about hunting, trapping, fishing and wildlife in general.”

Samantha had never given a minute’s thought to the duties and responsibilities of a game warden. She had somehow envisioned it as a job where someone sat in a little booth all day and handed out brochures about hunting and fishing. Obviously it was a lot more involved than that.

“The government passed the Bald Eagle Protection Act back in 1940,” Ben went on, “to protect them from the wholesale slaughter that was endangering their existence. Then in 1962 golden eagles were added to the protection act. At that time both eagles were in serious danger of extinction due to poaching or sport killing. It’s still a huge problem.”

People poached eagles. Who knew? This was another thing Sam had never thought about, but now that she did think about it—with Ben’s help, of course—she could see that it was a bad thing and didn’t need to be happening.

They were on a winding road bordered on both sides by forests of mostly evergreens, although there were other trees she couldn’t identify even if they hadn’t shed their leaves for the winter. She was amazed at how tall and large most of the trees were up here. New York City had trees, but nothing like the ones growing here.

“Are these virgin forests?” Sam inquired. She remembered learning a little about virgin forests in high school and grinned, thinking of how most of the boys and some of the girls had tittered at the word “virgin.”

“This stretch through here has never been logged,” Ben answered, swerving adeptly to avoid hitting a pothole in the road. “Much of the wooded land has been cleared for ranching, like my own ranch, for instance.

“Do you have a big ranch?”

“Not by Wyoming standards,” Ben said. “But plenty big enough to keep me pretty busy in my spare time. I have three full time ranch hands, too, so that helps a lot.”

“Do you grow sheep, too, like Trey?”

Ben chuckled. “Well, no. I grow cattle. But it isn’t like growing potatoes. We call it

about itraising sheep or cattle. Trey also runs cattle as well as sheep. At one time in the late 1800s, there was so much bad feeling between cattle ranchers and sheep ranchers that it led to bloodshed and what was called the ‘Sheep Wars.’ But that’s all behind us now and there never was a big problem in this area anyway.”

Marielle had really gotten into raising sheep. Samantha knew that by the enthusiasm her friend displayed whenever the subject came up. Mari even had a pet sheep she had rescued as a lamb when its mother died. This was a never ending source of surprise to Sam, who had never wanted the responsibility of a goldfish, much less a whole flock of four legged things to care for who seemed to be constantly hungry and very vocal.

Looking out her side window, Samantha saw that the trees had thinned out considerably, giving way to large open meadows at the foot of majestic white capped mountains that looked close but were probably quite a distance away.

“Those meadows are brilliant with wildflowers in the spring and summer,” Ben commented. “Gypsy Flowers, Old Man’s Whiskers, native geraniums, blue flax, bluebells … all the colors of the rainbow. It’s spectacular, Samantha. I hope you stay long enough to see the meadows blooming.”

Sam gave a noncommittal “Hmm.” She hoped she
wouldn’t
still be here when the wild flowers began blooming. No doubt they were beautiful if you liked that kind of thing, but she had never been interested in flora and fauna. She laughed inwardly at a mental picture of herself dressed as Maria in The Sound of Music … singing and frolicking around gaily … skirt billowing … in a field of flowers.

No, that wasn’t her style. She would be more at home in Bloomingdale’s or Macy’s. If she wanted to look at flowers she could hang some floral curtains.

Ben turned the truck onto a bone-jarring, unpaved side road and they traveled a few minutes before coming to a stop.

“We’ll have to walk the rest of the way,” Ben said. “It isn’t too far.”

Samantha almost jumped out of the truck in her haste to climb out before Ben came around to open the door for her. She thought his chivalry was cute, but outmoded. She wasn’t used to being treated like a hothouse plant or the weaker sex. While hoping she didn’t offend or hurt his feelings, she wanted to convey as much to him.

As she followed Ben on a narrow trail, Samantha thought about how much she liked this man and the pleasant anticipation of getting to know him better. Much better.

If they were going to have a brief but exciting affair, she needed to establish some ground rules right up front. No strings attached and no “courting” as such. Just two consenting adults who found each other physically attractive. Nothing more.

No hearts and flowers stuff. If she let Ben think that she wanted all of that on the basis of nothing more than a mutually pleasurable sexual fling, it would give him a false impression of what kind of female she was as well as her expectations. They could enjoy each others’ company until it was time for her to go home, then part company as friends and go their separate ways with no broken hearts or recriminations. By making that crystal clear to him right up front, he wouldn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable around her after they slept together, worried that she might be expecting a permanent commitment because they had sex.

Samantha’s brow furrowed as she contemplated the situation. It was possible that because she was Marielle’s friend, Ben might be reluctant to have sex with her, fearing that she would get all clingy and then Mari would harbor ill feelings toward him.

Besides, Sam had learned the hard way that most men didn’t like it much when women became clingy or needy, expecting every relationship no matter how brief or casual to lead to marriage. She figured Ben was no exception to the rule for all his gentlemanly ways. Nor would it be fair to either of them to forge any lasting feelings for each other since that would make it rough when the time came to part, and that time would inevitably come.

When the police managed to make their case against Tony, Sam would be free to return to New York as soon as his incarceration began. Her apartment was only sublet on a month to month basis and she could always stay with Maeve in the interim if need be. Maeve was a Big Sister to the core, always looking out for Samantha’s welfare and well being.

Their beautiful, boisterous Italian mother had been killed in a hit and run accident when Maeve was barely eighteen and Samantha just ten. Maeve had stepped up to the plate and taken over the running of the household and was always there for both Sam and her policeman father. Sam often felt guilty when she thought of all her older sister had given up to be their cook, housekeeper and unpaid factotum.

Blessed with a beautiful voice, Maeve had won a full scholarship to Juilliard but dropped out to take care of their family. Talented and beautiful, Samantha believed that Maeve could have gone on to become a great opera singer if she had stayed at the prestigious school that had produced 105 Grammy Awards along with Tony Awards, Emmy Awards, Academy Awards and more.

Samantha was sometimes struck by the differences between herself and her sister. Maeve was a cool blonde, ethereally slender, quiet and gentle. It took a lot to rouse her to show any strong emotion, even though Samantha knew that Maeve’s feelings ran quite deep. She had such a soothing, calm personality. Unlike Sam, who had inherited her mother’s volatile temperament and could be moved to tears, anger or hilarity at the drop of a hat.

Samantha’s reverie was cut short as she literally ran into Ben, so wrapped up in her thoughts she had failed to notice when he stopped walking.

She stumbled just a little and Ben turned to steady her. His hands were warm on her shoulders and they were close enough that she could feel his body heat and catch a faint whiff of his manly scent with a subtle overtone of spice and leather. She looked upward at him through her lashes and was again caught by the unusual color of his eyes.

They seemed to be mostly blue, but a very pale, icy blue. No … she decided, they

weren’t really blue. They were a light gray with little splashings of blue. She didn’t recall ever seeing eyes exactly the color of his. They were dynamite, especially with the contrast of dark, luxurious eyelashes so at odds with his pale wheat colored hair but fabulous nonetheless.

“You okay?” Ben asked.

“Oh yeah, sure. I was woolgathering. Sorry I ran into you, Ben.”

He flashed her one of those million watt smiles, his strong hands still on her shoulders, and Sam felt her heart skip a beat. “You can run into me any time, Samantha O’Brien.”

Samantha was stunned to feel the heat rush to her cheeks. Now
she
was the one who was blushing. She couldn’t believe that Ben’s mildly flirtatious remark had been enough to have her blushing like a schoolgirl. Next she’d be giggling like a teenager!

Heavens! This man had a powerful effect on her. If he could push all of her buttons this easily just by putting his hands on her shoulders and making a casual comment, she could only imagine how potent his attraction would be once they were lovers. And he had such a beautiful smile! She wondered if he knew the effect he had on females, particularly her. He might be an old hand at the art of seduction who had practiced his Nice Guy approach enough to make it perfect.

Or … he could be the real McCoy and genuinely what he appeared to be; an all round thoroughly nice man who just happened to be spectacularly good looking with sex appeal oozing out his pores.

Samantha was skeptical about the chances of Ben being as good as he appeared to be simply because her own personal experience had taught her that men like that were few and far between.

Time would tell. Anyway, she reminded herself, no matter how great Ben might turn out to be, she wasn’t in the market for a long term relationship with him. She wouldn’t allow herself to fall in love with Ben Connors because it could never work out. She would feel buried alive out here, away from the excitement of the big city, and she didn’t think Ben would transplant himself into her world, either.

So, just some lighthearted fun and games. No harm, no foul.

Ben looked back at her as they began climbing upward on the narrow path. “Doing okay back there?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied cheerfully, although this trek was starting to make her wish she had gone to the gym more often. She was a little winded and her feet and legs were staging a mild protest at the exercise.

“If I go too fast for you, just tell me,” Ben said. “I’m used to being on my own so I might set too fast a pace for you without meaning to. My legs are longer than yours.”

Yes, his legs were longer than hers. She had already noticed that, and fine looking legs they were, too, she thought. They were in keeping with his height, which she estimated to be at about 6’2” or so. From this view behind him she could also see that although lean, he was very well muscled and she was willing to bet his muscles weren’t the results of a gym but of working around his ranch and taking hikes like this as part of his job.

This perspective also furnished a birds eye view of his tush and Samantha was reminded of why he had passed the jeans test with flying colors.

The trail became steeper and even more narrow when they finally reached the top of a plateau. Sam looked around and then down, feeling somewhat dizzy at how high up they were. Whoa! She didn’t realize they had climbed so far! She wasn’t phobic about heights but they weren’t her favorite thing, either. She hated those all-glass elevators that went up the outside of tall buildings in New York … so high up that people and cars below looked like little toy figures in a Monopoly game.

But this! This was amazing! The bright blue sky looked so close that she felt she could almost reach out and touch one of the fleecy clouds scudding across it. The mountains seemed much closer, too. Sam took a deep breath and thought this had to be the purest air her lungs had ever breathed. Slightly fragranced by the piney, resinous scent of the evergreen trees, the air was aromatic as well as delightfully fresh.

She had to admit it was nice. If you liked that sort of thing, of course, she hastily amended. Not for city girls like herself who thrived on exhaust fumes.