The Long Road Home (21 page)

“STAND BACK, LADIES, here he comes!” called Seth from the barn entry. Nora and Esther turned their heads, but it soon became obvious Seth wasn’t calling to them. At his side stood a magnificent ram, all bulging muscles, flaring nostrils, and the largest testicles Nora had ever seen.

Seth strode as proud as the ram into the barn. Close behind sauntered Frank and Junior, jabbing each other’s ribs and pointing to the suddenly alert ewes. Lastly, C.W. entered the barn. His hair curled askew and his muscled arms, still tan under rolled up sleeves, carried a large load of equipment. Nora couldn’t help comparing him to the great ram.

“What are you gonna call him?” asked Seth, bringing the ram around to Nora.

Caught off guard, Nora mustered her thoughts and perused her new prize ram. She imagined all the fine lambs he would sire; rams with great balls of fire and ewes that gave birth to twins and triplets. Fat and healthy, every one of them.

“Studly,” she declared in a clear voice.

C.W. broke into a wide grin and offered her a nod of approval.

“Yeh-up. Suits him,” declared Seth. “Well, Studly. Go live up to your name.”

With a wide swing of the gate and a formal bow, he escorted the ram into a large pen where several ewes waited with ears pricked and eyes flashing.

The ram rushed into the pen with sureness and majesty. As he surveyed his harem, he jutted his jaw forward, lifted his nostrils high into the air, and curled his lip far back, revealing his lower teeth.

“He’s a magnificent beast,” C.W. said as he walked up beside Nora.

“He should be,” she remarked in her best business tone. “He cost a fortune.”

“A wise investment,” C.W. countered. “The best ram you can find will be the cheapest in the end. This ram will sire above-average lambs, who will, in time, become more than half the flock.”

He leaned over the fence, resting his boot on the railing. Nora looked straight ahead but could feel his gaze on her. Lowering his head close to her ear, he said softly, “You know, Nora. One must be cautious when choosing the right ram. And when found, be decisive.”

Nora continued staring at the ram, trying to ignore the comment so laden with innuendo.

Seth, Frank, and Junior gathered around the pen in unaccustomed silence, watching the ritualistic performance of the ram. Breeding happened each spring and fall, yet there was always a fascination with the raw beauty of nature. Perhaps even with the dawning of next year’s lamb crop.

“You get what you pay for,” commented C.W.

As the ram confidently approached a ewe, Nora’s mouth went dry and her body moist. She ventured a bored look but
she felt sure she wore the same rapt expression as the others. In time, she no longer was aware of anyone’s presence save C.W.’s. His arm edged over along the fence, just enough to lightly graze her own. His thigh rested beside hers.

So close, she smelled the pungent sweat on his skin. The soft hairs on his arm tickled her own as she leaned closer to him, millimeter by millimeter. From under her lashes, she saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest. There was a chemical exchange between them. Undefined, but very real, very there. With each violent thrust of the ram, her gut tightened and her throat constricted.

Several ewes now had a blue smudge on their rumps.

“What are those?” she asked, her voice a dry whisper.

“Crayon marks,” answered C.W., his voice husky. “See that harness Studly is wearing? It’s a marking harness. Each ram has a different color, and it identifies who mounted the ewe. For records.”

“Sounds efficient,” she replied, relieved to be discussing the operation.

“How about you,” Frank called out to C.W. “When’re you gonna get off this farm and service the ladies?”

Junior leaned over and whispered in C.W.’s ear loud enough for all to hear. “Maybe you don’t need to leave the farm after all.”

Nora died on the spot. Through lowered lashes, she noticed a red flush creeping up C.W.’s ears.

He calmly shook his head, appearing mildly amused by the boys’ antics. To his credit, despite the snickering around him and the color on his neck, his voice assumed a deep, resolute quality when he answered.

“This is one stud who will choose but one mate for life.” He raised his eyes to Nora, a direct message sent in a direct line. And a warning to all witnesses.

Nora tried to look away but instead found Seth’s keen eyes upon them, never missing a thing. Her blush deepened.

In a rush she turned away, but C.W. straightened and brought his boot down from the rail with a thud. Reaching out, he grabbed her elbow. Nora jerked his hand away, but he stubbornly refused to yield. As he led her to a private corner of the barn she shot him a fiery gaze, but he ignored it and only tightened his grip till she thought her bone would snap.

The heat in the barn was oppressive, and it exacerbated the heat of the moment. As C.W. swung her around to face him, Nora’s long braid slapped her face. Her back was against the wall and she felt the dry wood scratch through her denim. Clenching her teeth, she yanked her arm free, but before she could skirt away, he arched over her, leaning both arms against the barn wall and covering her like a tent. In defiance, she tightened both arms around her chest.

“I’m not one to mince words,” he said. His blue eyes flashed and demanded her total attention.

“Don’t say them,” she pleaded with closed eyes. The afternoon had been too tense, nerves were too frayed. At times like this, secrets could be exposed.

His sigh rumbled in his chest. “Nora, Nora, Nora. Don’t deny what’s between us. Closing your eyes to it won’t make it go away.”

“I thought you said this wouldn’t happen again.”

“I know. You make me a liar. I can’t stop this.”

His intensity invaded her and she shook her head in denial.

As if physically to change her mind, he grabbed her chin. She opened her eyes, now inches away from his, and gasped in the humid, charged air between them.

He released her chin and let his fingers slide down her neck and rest upon the gentle curve along the shoulder. Nora traced each centimeter along her nerve endings, and the pulse in her neck throbbed against his thumb. He offered not a hint of pressure, yet she felt choked with desire.

“Stop. Please.”

His hand stiffened on her shoulder then slipped away as he stood straight. Cool air slipped between them, though the breathing came no easier.

“I’m not a teaser ram,” he said bluntly.

She blinked and stood straight herself. “And I’ll not have crayon marks on my back.”

His eyes narrowed; the blue fires raged. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’d better realize I’m not just another mount.” She turned her head, embarrassed by her crude analogy.

“Nora,” he said as he leaned over her again and brought her eyes to his, “I don’t think of you that way.”

His nearness was suffocating and her nerves snapped. “I don’t want you to think of me at all.” She swallowed in the dry air as she grappled for the right words. The distance he created after stepping back gave her the chance to gather herself in a proper stance.

In her best employer-like tone she declared, “I don’t think it’s wise for us to start a personal relationship.”

He stood as straight as the wall. “Because I’m a farmhand and you’re a New York socialite?”

Nora closed her eyes for a moment. His question stung and dissolved her control. “No,” she cried, “not because of that. Because I have nothing and you have nothing, and I’m afraid of what that adds up to.”

When she opened her eyes again, the fire in his eyes still smoldered. She had admitted far more than she had ever intended.

“Let’s just be friends,” she whispered.

He looked around the room, then raised his eyes to the ceiling as his fingers drummed his hips. All the while Nora saw a muscle twitching furiously in his cheek.

“Please.”

When he lowered his eyes, his face was carved in granite.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“See you tonight at seven—friend?” she persisted.

He swung his hands into his rear pockets and stared at her with squinted eyes, considering. His brows created deep creases in his tanned skin.

“Seven sharp.” Then he turned and walked to the tractor parked at the barn’s rear entry. She watched him tinker with the engine for several moments, but it was obvious he wasn’t getting much accomplished.

Steeped in frustration, Nora turned and marched out of the barn and up the long road to her house. The house was dark and the kitchen door was ajar. That was strange, she thought, and she felt a sudden prick of fear. Oh well, she reassured herself. I must not have closed it tight enough. Nora slowly climbed the steps and gave the kitchen door a quick push. The swing was cut off by some resistance on the inside. She pushed harder. The door scraped open, pushing a fallen trash can along the floor. Her stomach tight, Nora reached her hand along the inside wall and flicked on the light. She stood listening intently, ready to flee. When she heard no response, she peered around the door.

Her furniture, dishes and pots—everything—were scattered across the floor. Nora’s hand flew to her mouth and she ran out.

The men returned to the barn from her house, somber faced. Esther and Nora sat together, trying to figure out who could have robbed her place. There had been a couple of robberies in town lately; TVs and guns were the prime targets. When the men approached, they stood up for the news.

“Someone’s done a good job tearin’ up your place,” said Frank.

“A real mess,” added Junior.

Seth remained silent but watched C.W. carefully.

“Nora,” said C.W. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

He led her to a far corner and said, in a low voice, “Do you know who could have done this?”

“No. Some local robber, I guess.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t a robbery. Your pearls are still there, right on top of your bureau. And the TV. This wasn’t the job of your everyday robber.”

Nora’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. The ledger!”

C.W.’s eyes were calm. “It’s in my cabin. I checked.” He drew her farther away from the others. “So, you think they were after the ledger too?”

Nora’s knees felt weak. She leaned against the wall with a sigh of resignation. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Some goons ripped apart our apartment right after Mike died. They want that ledger.”

And they want me, C.W. thought, grinding his teeth. His phone calls to New York had led them here. It had to be.

Nora looked up at C.W. She had never seen him so angry. He looked as if he was ready to kill.

“Nora, who do you think wants that ledger? Any names?”

Her face hardened. “Charles Blair. Who else?”

He studied the contempt so clear in her flashing eyes. Unadulterated hatred. And misplaced.

“Go on up,” C.W. said, his voice controlled but weary. “No one is there now and they won’t return.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nora.”

“You’re sorry? Whatever for?”

His eyes flickered and he dropped his hand. “It’s a mess up there. I’ll do your chores. You’d better get started.”

“I’ll help,” called Esther when Nora started to leave.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

When they left, C.W. leaned against the barn wall, eyes shut. He was a fool to put the hounds on the trail. Bastards. The ante was up; they knew where he was and what he knew. They didn’t, however, know for sure if there was proof. He ran his hand through his hair. This was a damned dirty campaign.

Someone tapped his shoulder. C.W. jerked his head up and opened his eyes in time to catch Seth jab a digit toward the exit. Without a break in his stride, the old man kept chugging out of the barn to the tractor. There, he leaned against the green metal, pushed back his visor, and waited.

C.W. followed with long strides and faced him squarely—no head bobbing, no wayward glances.

“Expecting unwelcome company, Charley?”

“One never knows what to expect.”

Seth nodded. “Yeh-up. Other than death and cold winters.” He turned his gaze to the mountains. “If you got problems I need know about, I’d appreciate you lettin’ me know.”

C.W. leaned against the large curved fender and rested one boot atop the other. “I can deal with any trouble that comes, I assure you, Seth.”

“Don’t seem that way. You got trouble with the law?”

C.W. emitted a short laugh. “If it were only so easy.”

“Well, who’re ya runnin’ from?”

“My family.” It sounded childish, even to himself.

Seth guffawed. “Who isn’t?” He slapped his knee. “Might as well stop running. They always find you.” When C.W. didn’t reply, he added, “Never took you for the kind’a man that was tied to the apron strings.”

“I’m not,” he barked. It was a knee-jerk reaction and he felt guilty for cutting Seth off. “It’s not my family I’m running from, it’s the business we’re in.” He sighed. “What can I say? You know I was on Wall Street. Well, I ran a bank—my bank.
We bought and sold businesses not just for the money but for the power. People got hurt who didn’t need to…” The words trailed off.

Seth stood there, staring out over the fields, ruminating the confession with the bored look of a sheep.

“Are you listening?”

“Yeh-up. I hear you. Ain’t nothin’ to say.”

“How about that I’ve lied to you, pretended to be a hired hand.”

“You are a hired hand. Best I ever hired. Way I see it, you never talked about your past and I never asked. That ain’t lying. That’s keepin’ to yourself.”

C.W. leaned back against the tractor and joined Seth in staring out over the fields. For a while, neither spoke.

“When my father died,” C.W. began at last, “I became head of the family, and the family business. I was never asked if it was what I chose to do. It was assumed. I had my duty to fulfill, and I fulfilled it beyond anyone’s expectations.

“I could be as cold and calculating as the best of them. MacKenzie and I were a lot alike, except that he enjoyed it and I, eventually anyway, didn’t.”

“That’d be right,” Seth agreed. “So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is there’s trouble at the bank, and it’s somehow tied up with MacKenzie.”