A Wife in Wyoming (12 page)

But Caroline had kept trying. She'd guided three of them through cooking dinner and handled the rough ones well enough to get the kitchen cleaned up. She'd led the singing around the campfire, catching one kid's glance and then another's—connecting, encouraging, making them feel part of the group. He'd noticed her talking with Nate, and whatever she'd said must have pulled him out of his shell enough to bring him to the fire circle, too. And she'd kept an eye on Justino and Lena. How did she manage to be aware of everything and everyone?

When all he could think about was her?

He'd let his temper get the best of him with Garrett, because of Caroline. Well, and because Garrett could be a little self-righteous sometimes. But mostly because Garrett had put his arm around Caroline's shoulders to give her a hug.

Of course, Ford wasn't sure he'd be able to stop with just a hug. He wanted so much more.

Taking a deep breath, he started down the hill, with a glance at the girls' cabin as he went.

Someone was sitting on the porch. He didn't have to squint to see who—he apparently had radar as far as she was concerned. Caroline.

Against his better judgment, but in line with all his inclinations, he walked up the hill to the cabin. The railing for the porch was at chest height, and he propped his arms on it.

“What are you doing out in the dark?”

She'd taken her hair down, and it curled around her face and shoulders in dark waves. “I wasn't quite ready to fall asleep. I wanted to sit outside and unwind a little.”

“I'm disturbing you. Sorry.” Ford started to turn away.

“Not at all.” The words were a little rushed. “I mean...you're welcome to stay. It's—it's a nice night.”

“Yeah.” Now that he'd come over, he had no idea what to say. “The campfire went pretty well. No major disasters.”

“I was proud of them. You'd think they were just innocent kids, having a good time.”

“That's the trouble, isn't it? They're kids, but they're not innocent.”

“Yes, that's the trouble. In some way or another, their world has broken down and left them trying to cope, when they're not experienced enough to handle their situations.”

“Do you really believe being here will make a difference?”

She gazed at him for a minute in silence. “I have to try.”

He couldn't let it go. “Why? Why does a woman with your background and resources give it all up to work this damned hard?” She didn't say anything for so long, he figured she wasn't going to. “Never mind. Blame me for being a lawyer—we ask nosy questions.”

“It's okay.” She took a breath. “I always hesitate to revisit it. But you deserve an answer, since I've involved you in this effort. You were right—I
was
pretty spoiled when I graduated from high school. And I took that sense of entitlement to college with me. Rode for the rodeo team, skimmed through my classes, lived it up. My roommate, Dena, was a barrel racer, too. We became close friends, even though we were competing against each other.”

Another deep breath. “Dena came from the real world, the one I hadn't seen much of till then. Her dad had run off, her mom worked two jobs and Dena herself started cleaning stalls at a nearby ranch when she was barely thirteen. That's where she learned to ride and she just happened to be very talented. But she also partied pretty hard with a tough crowd. I tried to talk to her, but she would complain that I was being a princess and blow me off.” Caroline's gaze met his. “Eventually, I realized she was doing drugs. By junior year, she was always either high or crashing—never just herself anymore. Finally, she got kicked off the rodeo team. Stopped going to classes, was being threatened with expulsion.”

Caroline covered her face with her hands for a moment. “Before that could happen, she overdosed. I found her in our room, covered with—” She choked then went on. “Dena didn't die, fortunately. But she's a ghost—brain damaged, emotionally empty... She'll never be the bright, happy girl who was my friend.”

Ford propped his chin on his hands. “You're still trying to save Dena?”

“I'm trying to keep as many kids as I can from going down that path. Hoping to rescue the ones already at risk. I guess that seems like a pretty futile effort, but—”

He held up a hand to stop her. In the quiet night, he had heard a noise that seemed out of place. A thunk.

“What is it?”

“A door closing.”

She gave him a puzzled look.

“The back door to this place.”

“Lena?”

“That would be my guess. Go check her bed. I'll meet you at the barn.”

Ford waited until she joined him at the barn door. “If it were me, I'd head for the sofa in the tack room,” he said in a low voice.

“Lead the way,” she told him, and her hand found his with a firm clasp.

Even after years away, he knew the barn as well as his own face, and he navigated easily past the stalls and the tools to the rear of the building. No lights had been turned on, but he could hear whispers and giggles, and he figured the tack room door must be ajar. Quietly, he snaked his arm through the opening and found the light switch. He gave Caroline's fingers a squeeze and let go.

Then he flipped the switch.

Lena screamed. Justino swore. Ford pushed the door open so that Caroline could enter the room. The teenagers cowered on the couch. Shirts were already unbuttoned.

“Give me one reason,” Caroline said, when the noise quieted down, “why I shouldn't send Lena home. One good reason.”

“Please,” the girl said through her tears. “I'll have to spend the whole summer taking care of my brothers. Cooking, cleaning. Since my mom...died...my dad makes me responsible for everything. I work all the time at home.”

“He makes her do all the housework, the laundry.” Justino put his arm around Lena. “She falls asleep in class because she gets no rest at home. They're little boys. But she's not their mother.”

Ford felt Caroline soften beside him. “That's tough,” she said. “But I can't have you two meeting this way. I wouldn't be fulfilling my responsibility to your parents if I didn't supervise you. And—I'm going to be really honest here—I don't want Lena to end up pregnant this summer. That's where you're headed with this behavior. So what are we going to do?”

Lena had buttoned her shirt, and now she stood up. “We'll do better, honest. We'll stick to the rules.”

Justino got to his feet more slowly, his shirt still hanging open. He was a handsome young man on the cusp of maturity, and Ford understood too well the urges driving him.

Caroline didn't let him off the hook. “Justino?”

“Sure,” the boy said, but didn't meet Ford's eyes. “I'll do whatever Lena says.”

“Both of you get to bed. Now. You should be exhausted, and I certainly am.”

Ford flipped on a light in the barn, closed up the tack room, and then he and Caroline followed the teenagers out. Lena and Justino shared a longing gaze and a defiant kiss before separating. Two slams announced their return to their sleeping quarters.

“Whew.” Shaking her head, Caroline started toward the cabin. “That was tough.”

Ford walked beside her. “Do you believe they'll obey the rules?”

“They'll try, for a day or two.”

“We could lock them in.”

“It's an idea.” She smiled at him. “But what would that teach them?”

“Don't mess with adults?”

“Don't get caught, is more likely.”

They reached the steps of the cabin. Caroline climbed the first step and then pivoted to face him. “I'm glad you were there. I appreciated having your support for that confrontation. And Justino will listen better to a man than to me.”

“I didn't say anything.” The step brought their heads level, so his eyes could meet hers, a shining green even in the dark. Her tousled hair looked so soft, his fingers actually twitched with the desire to touch it.

“You were on my side,” she insisted. Then she blew a breath off her full lower lip. “I'd better get in. It's late.”

“Yeah.” But neither of them moved. Being this close to her felt right to Ford, the way the day should end, with the two of them sharing thoughts and feelings. So kissing Caroline was the only natural evolution of the moment. Her soft mouth tilted slightly against his, her lips parted and her warm breath whispered over his cheek. He put an arm around her waist and a hand to her hair, threading his fingers through that dusky softness. She seemed small in his hold, but not weak, especially when her arms locked around his neck, and she pressed closer against him with a demand he had to answer. He braced one foot on the step beside her and tightened his hold, pressing their bodies together from knee to chest, the roundness of her breasts a sensuous fullness against him, her belly an erotic pressure between his legs.

Their kisses went wild, crazy and devouring. Ford tasted her tongue, the ridges of her teeth, the smooth warmth of her mouth. Breaking free, he roamed his lips along the curve of her neck to the open throat of her shirt and the pulse pounding there. He laid his hands below her waist, cupped her bottom and pulled her even closer against him, against the ache she'd stirred that lived within him night and day.

“Ford. Ford, please.” Caroline was kissing his forehead, running her hands through his hair, over his shoulders and spine.

He understood what she wanted. Breathing hard, struggling to assert control over himself and his desire, he managed to loosen his hands and put some distance between them. With a deep breath he stepped away, turning his back to her, grinding the heels of his hands against his burning eyes.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn't mean...to get out of hand.”

“Me, too.” Her voice shook. “My fault as much as yours.”

He cleared his throat. “I won't let it happen again.”

“We can't—” she said at the same moment. “The kids...”

“Sure. And Garrett.”

“And Dylan,” Caroline added. “Wyatt, too.”

“Right.” He didn't trust himself to face her, to see her standing in the moonlight. “Go on in. I'll wait till the door shuts.”

He heard her boots cross the porch. There was a long silence.

“'Night,” she said, finally.

Ford just nodded. The door squeaked open, shut firmly. The porch light went out.

Alone in the dark, Ford stared up at the stars, sprinkled like glitter across the black velvet sky. So far, this week was proceeding as badly as he'd predicted, especially when it came to Caroline. Even the presence of seven teenagers and his brothers couldn't stifle his need for her. She hadn't kissed him as if Garrett was an issue between them. But he hadn't kissed her with the restraint of a man who would be leaving in a matter of weeks, either. What could they do with this inconvenient, compelling passion? How would they manage the rest of the summer?

And what about the rest of their lives?

Chapter Eight

With his breath almost normal, Nate hurried past the ranch house, using the cover of the trucks parked out front to screen him from the windows. It was a little after 4:00 a.m., but somebody might be up already. Or be having trouble sleeping. And he for sure didn't want to be seen.

At the bunkhouse, he took off his sneakers and silently slipped past the door. He would have loved a glass of water after his run, but that would make noise. He'd have to wait till morning.

He could relax now, anyway, because his mom had said his dad would be staying at the Donnelly Ranch during the week for his new job. Maybe, having a job, he wouldn't be drinking so much on the weekends, and things would settle down. They could always hope.

Of course, she'd yelled at him, too, for leaving the ranch and going home. She'd made him promise not to do it again. And she hadn't let him run all the way back, but had loaded a sleeping Amber in the car and driven him to the ranch entrance. The jog from there had been easy. Now he could slide into bed—

“Well, well. What's happenin', dude?”

The lamp beside the sofa came on. Nate jerked around to see Marcos sitting up. “Nothing,” Nate said. “Just went for a walk. Couldn't sleep.”

“Pretty long walk. You left about three hours ago. Where ya been?”

“Around.” He swallowed against his pounding heartbeat. “Watching the horses.”

Marcos went to the bathroom, peed without shutting the door and then came into the living room again. “I don't think so. You met one of the girls, right? You and Lizzie, doin' it in the barn?”

Nate frowned. “No. Just forget it, Marcos. Go to sleep.” He headed toward the bedroom door, trying to bluff his way through this.

But Marcos wrapped a hand around his arm and jerked him around. “Hold on, dude. I bet the fools running this place would be interested in finding out that you were wandering around in the middle of the night.”

“Come on, Marcos. Leave me alone. I'm not bothering you.”

“You bother me by just breathing, dude. What are we gonna do about it?”

Nate blew out a breath. He didn't remember a time when he wasn't being bullied by somebody. His dad was the worst. “What do you want?”

“Good question. Let's see...what do I want?” He pretended to consider, rubbing his chin with his fingers. “I want these losers to stop bugging me about cooking and cleaning.”

“I can't do anything about that.”

“Sure you can. You can take my place.”

Nate stared at him. “You don't think they might notice I'm not you?”

“As long as they got the right number of slaves, they won't care. So from now on, you show up to do my job. I'll keep my mouth shut about your little adventures as long as you do.”

“Your name's on the chart.” Nate tilted his head toward the bulletin board. “They read, you know.”

“I'll take care of it. You just do the work.” Marcos shoved him forward into a stumble. “Hit the sack, dude. You gotta get up and cook breakfast.”

“Whatever.” Picking up the shoes he'd dropped, Nate eased through the door to the bedroom and shut it behind him. Justino and Thomas hadn't moved, as far as he could tell. He crawled under the covers of his own bunk and lay there breathing hard, his body aching with exertion and pure fatigue. Marcos's plan wouldn't work, so he wasn't going to worry about it. If it did work, so what? There were worse problems than having to cook three times a day.

Like watching your dad beat up your mom and not being able to stop him.

* * *

C
AROLINE
HAD
NO
trouble waking up early. At six o'clock, she was already lying with her eyes wide open, thinking about Ford. Having no hope for further sleep, she rolled out of bed, showered and dressed. At least she didn't have to wait for three teenage girls to finish in the bathroom.

Out on the porch, she sat in the same rocking chair she'd occupied last night, shivering a little in the chilly dawn air. She stared at the ranch house down the hill and wondered which room belonged to Ford. Was he already awake? Had he slept as badly as she had?

At seven she went into the house to wake the girls. Ford and Dylan had moved an extra single bed into the largest bedroom, where there was already a double, so all three girls could share the space.

Standing in the doorway, Caroline knocked on the wall. “Rise and shine, girls. Breakfast in thirty minutes.”

In the single bed, Lena didn't move a muscle. Becky groaned and rolled over, disturbing Lizzie next to her.

“No,” Lizzie moaned. “I'm not hungry.”

“You will be by ten o'clock, unless you eat now. Come on, kids. You can do it.” Caroline stepped over to shake Lena's shoulder. “Wake up, Lena. Time to get going. We've got three people here who will want the bathroom.”

Lena muttered something in Spanish that Caroline was pretty sure she didn't want to translate. “This is stupid. I need more sleep.”

“Maybe you should get to bed earlier.”

The girl opened one eye and glared at Caroline. She understood the message. But she didn't like it.

“I'm going over to get the guys cooking. We will start eating at seven thirty. I'll send Ford to get you if you're not there.”

With that threat, she left the house and headed for the bunkhouse, where Garrett was supposed to have gotten the boys up and moving. That was the plan, anyway.

Instead, all four boys were still asleep, as still as if they hadn't moved a muscle all night.

Caroline stood motionless for a minute, hands fisted at her sides. Was she the only responsible adult on the premises? She might as well be running the entire project by herself.

Then she took a deep breath, relaxed her hands and loosened her stiff shoulders. Garrett and Dylan meant well, and they'd been a big help. Maybe she'd forgotten to ask Garrett to wake the boys. The mix-up could be her fault.

And Ford...Ford had been with her last night when she'd confronted Justino and Lena. Whenever there was trouble, he seemed to be there to help her solve the problem. She couldn't really imagine how she'd be handling these kids without him.

Behind her, the outside door opened. She turned and was somehow not surprised when Ford stepped inside.

“'Morning,” he said, in a gravelly voice. “These guys still asleep?”

She nodded as he crossed the room. “Wasn't Garrett supposed to get them up?”

He thought a second. “I said he could, but I don't believe we gave him that task specifically.” His eyes looked tired, his face a little pale. It seemed he hadn't slept well, either.

“My mistake. Well, it's past time they were out of bed.” She started toward the bedroom.

Ford caught her arm. “Let me. You wait over in the kitchen. Or even better, at the house. Garrett's got coffee brewed.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes. Show up at seven thirty and breakfast will be underway.”

“Great.” Such a relief, to be able to count on him to handle the boys. “Thanks so much.”

“No problem. Now go.” He gave her a little push from behind. “Vamoose.”

She checked on the girls again—they were moving slowly, but at least they were moving. So she went down to the ranch house and found Garrett in the kitchen alone.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “Coffee? You take cream and sugar, right?”

She sipped from the mug he handed her and sighed. “Just right. You're a genius with the java.”

“That makes one thing I'm a genius with. Are the boys up?”

“Um...probably. Ford's over there.”

“Of course he is. He's the world's best organizer.”

“He mentioned that you're an early riser, really energetic in the mornings.”

“Usually. It's a chance for a fresh start, after the mistakes of yesterday.”

“True. And since you're so motivated in the morning, can I put you in charge of getting the guys up? They ought to be dressed before the girls come over to cook, when they aren't doing the cooking. Anyway, they ought to be up at seven.”

“Sure, I'll be glad to. Ford should have sent me over today, instead of going himself.” Garrett shook his head. “He doesn't delegate very well, just gets it done and moves on to the next task.”

“He's easy to depend on.”

Wyatt spoke from the kitchen doorway. “He takes on a lot of responsibility he doesn't necessarily have to.” He walked stiffly to the counter and poured himself a mug. “We could have managed this summer without him.”

Garrett started setting up a fresh pot. “I'm not sure we could have helped Caroline with the kids if Ford hadn't been here. They're a big commitment.”

“True. And I'm glad he's home for a while. Too bad we can't convince him to stay.”

Caroline couldn't resist asking, “He loves his job in San Francisco so much?”

Garrett and Wyatt looked at each other. “I...I don't know about that,” Wyatt said, finally. “He's talented and sharp at what he does. He takes pride in his work. Mostly, though, I think he feels compelled to bring in a hefty paycheck. Considers it his responsibility to the family and the ranch.”

The truth struck her hard. Ford's commitment to his brothers kept him working in San Francisco, at the big law firm, earning big money. For him to relocate to Bisons Creek permanently would mean abdicating his duty to the family, something a Marshall boy—especially Ford—would never do. And she wouldn't ask him to.

Walking up to the cabin with a fresh mug of coffee, Caroline resolved to keep her interactions with Ford strictly casual. She needed to maintain distance between them physically but also emotionally, which would be harder. Just because he was the most honorable and charismatic man she'd ever met did not mean that they were meant to be together.

She was perfectly happy being single. For the rest of her life.

* * *

R
OUSTING
TEENAGE
BOYS
at 7:00 a.m. was similar to waking up cowhands who had tied one on the night before. Extra effort was required, along with a high tolerance for insults.

Even Nathan, who usually did what was asked right away, resisted getting up. Ford abandoned the cold washcloth he'd used on Justino and Thomas, but he finally had to strip the covers off, leaving Nate shivering in his pajamas.

“You'll want to be dressed before the girls come in,” he told the boy. “That gives you about five minutes.”

Nate struggled to sit up on the side of the bunk, but he still appeared half-dead.

“Are you sick?” Ford scrutinized him more carefully. “Should I take your temperature?”

“I'm okay,” he said, in a barely audible voice. “Just tired.”

“Sorry.” Ford softened his tone. “I suspect we can all say that. Maybe we'll schedule a group nap for this afternoon.”

The corners of Nate's mouth lifted slightly. “Sounds good.”

By the time the four boys were dressed, seven thirty had long passed. The girls walked in at eight, followed by Caroline, looking a little frustrated.

She became even more so when she caught sight of the breakfast table. “Cereal? The menu says—”

Ford put up a hand to stop her. “Eggs and bacon just weren't happening this morning. The cooks were slow getting started, and there were some...uh...objections to the process. We decided to serve something simple so everybody could eat and keep the day on schedule.”

Caroline surveyed Thomas, Marcos and Justino, who were standing in the kitchen. Their attempts at nonchalance couldn't disguise the underlying nervousness.

She nodded once. “Got it. Sometimes the day just starts off hard, doesn't it? But cereal and fruit works, so let's all sit down and get something to eat.”

The kids didn't wait for a second invitation. Chairs scraped as each one found the seat they'd chosen as theirs, and the sound of cornflakes hitting the bottom of the bowl took over. Ford watched from the kitchen area as everybody settled down to their food with enthusiasm.

Caroline joined him. “Does that mean Marcos refused to cook?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Which set the other two off, as well.”

Ford nodded. “Full-scale rebellion.”

“You worked a miracle, then, getting them to set out any food at all.”

“I have to confess that I did remind them that they wouldn't eat if they didn't do the work.”

“Brute force does it again.”

“They are teenage boys.”

Caroline took a deep breath. “I guess we should anticipate the same problem at dinner. Overcoming this macho mind-set is getting to be a challenge.”

“You've got burgers on the menu. We'll haul the grill over here and let them cook outside. Maybe that will seem more manly.”

“Brilliant!” She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling, and he couldn't help smiling in response.

But in the next instant, her liveliness snapped off like a blown lightbulb. Her face now a blank mask, Caroline resumed watching the kids. “If we're lucky, that approach will ease them into cooking mode. Thanks for coming up with it.” She walked over to the table, sat down in an empty chair next to Becky and went about getting her own breakfast.

Ford stayed where he was. He understood what had happened, as surely as if a flashing neon sign hung over Caroline's head saying Second Thoughts. She must have reconsidered, as he had last night, and come to the same conclusion—the farther apart they stayed, the better for everyone.

The hollow inside him got a little bigger with the knowledge.

In a few minutes, the noise level started to climb, a sure indicator that the kids were finished with their meal. Caroline stood up and clapped her hands to get their attention. “Clean up this morning is assigned to Lizzie, Lena and Nate. The cooks can go with Ford to bring the horses in. We'll all meet in front of the barn at nine.”