Cowboys are Forever (11 page)

“Hey, Miss Mari,” Bandy called, breaking the spell, “Come on down here and get acquainted with these critters of yours!”

Relieved and yet somehow saddened by the distraction, Marielle gathered the reins and rode slowly down to join Bandy and the boys.

Unable to resist, she glanced back over her shoulder to see Trey still sitting on his horse on the ridge behind her. Her flesh prickled with goose bumps at the picture he made, tall in the saddle, outlined against the dark backdrop of the mountains with the morning sun spilling straight down upon him, highlighting his profile and illuminating his raven-black hair … he was magnificent. The ultimate male, she thought. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d be the ultimate fool and fall in love with him.

Trey watched Marielle ride down to meet the others. He tarried, needing a few minutes to try and free himself from the grip of strong emotion that held him. His heart was racing and a muffled oath escaped his lips. What in the hell was happening to him?

After his disastrous marriage to Lisette, he’d resolved to stay single for the rest of his days. Once, when he was younger, he’d wanted the same things his parents had had together: love, companionship, commitment. But, he mused, Mom and Dad had been a little bit smarter than he had. They’d had the good sense—or the good fortune—to choose a suitable mate. They’d shared a common background, held the same ideals, and had the same dreams. Their marriage had been a testament to the wisdom of choosing wisely.

While he, on the other hand, had been colossally stupid. He’d married someone whom, for all they had in common, might as well have come from another planet. He’d grown up seeing what a good marriage was like. And he’d lived in a bad one long enough to know that it wasn’t an experience he cared to repeat. He didn’t want to take the chance of finding himself in another match made in hell. It just didn’t seem like an acceptable risk. Now here he was again, attracted to someone whose background was completely different than his. Someone who might or might not be able to adapt and stay here … .who might up and leave.

When it came to picking the right women he could be dumber than a box of rocks.

Riding down to join her and the others, Trey strengthened his resolution to keep his emotional distance from her. No matter how tempting those red lips and that soft, silky skin, he couldn’t give in to his desire to kiss and hold her again. Hell, he thought savagely, he might as well be honest with himself. He wanted a lot more than to just kiss Marielle and hold her in his arms again. A lot more. He wanted to bury his face in that sexy tangle of fiery hair, see it spread out around her on a pillow as she lay beneath him … her maddeningly inviting mouth parted and moist, crying his name in passion … Trey blinked and wrenched his errant thoughts back to reality. It could never happen. Because if it did—and the time came for her to leave—it would hurt like hell to let her go.

Trey sidled his horse next to Bandy’s. The elderly foreman was talking to Marielle. Trey glanced at what seemed to be the subject of their discussion—a small half-grown lamb. It stood by itself, not seeming to fit in with the rest of the flock.

“So you see, Miss Mari,” Bandy said. “When a lamb loses its mama, like that little feller there did, before they’re old enough to be weaned … .well, even if they survive they just never do too good.” Bandy surveyed the small creature doubtfully and shook his head. “It’ll be a miracle if that one makes it through the winter. Too poorly.”

Marielle gave a small cry of distress and, dismounting, dropped to her knees by the orphaned lamb.

“Can’t I take care of him?” she asked. She looked up, her emerald eyes filled with compassion and concern. Trey felt his heart wrench almost painfully. She was so warm, he thought. So caring and loving … and lovable.

Bandy removed his battered Stetson and scratched his bald head thoughtfully. “Now, Miss Mari, I don’t know as how that’d be a good idea.”

“Why not?” Marielle inquired. She had pulled a handful of grass and was feeding the skinny lamb. Trey watched as it nibbled the grass that Marielle held at arm’s length. Bandy may as well hang it up—he wouldn’t be able to talk her out of adopting this little animal, Trey thought, seeing the lamb edge a little closer to its beautiful benefactress. That lamb would be going home with Marielle. Done deal.

“Well, now, Miss Mari,” Bandy began, sounding uneasy. “It just ain’t the way things are done, that’s all. People can’t go around taking in every stray critter. Pretty soon you’d have the whole barn full and then….”

The foreman’s voice trailed off as he and Trey watched the young animal make the final step toward trust of its new human friend, and snuggled up to Marielle.

“Oh,” Marielle cried, her pleasure in this gesture plain to hear. “Oh, look! He likes me.”

Her slender hands caressed the fleecy lamb. Trey watched, fascinated, as she stroked and petted it. He swallowed, imagining those long, delicate fingers caressing
him,
stroking him like that. Damn! He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle as his groin tightened. Whew. Every move this woman made seemed to inflame his senses, turn him on, tantalize …

He wheeled his horse suddenly and rode over to talk to some of the boys, feeling a sudden, almost desperate need to put some space between himself and Marielle.

Trey engaged in desultory conversation with his ranch hands for a few moments until the fever in his blood had cooled a bit. He watched Bandy and Marielle from the corner of his eye, grinning when the fate of the orphaned lamb was decided. The foreman had the lamb in front of him on his horse, no doubt ready to take it over to Marielle’s place for her.

Trey kicked his horse up and rode back over to join them.

Bandy was talking animatedly to Marielle. “—biggest dance of the year. You’ll love it, Miss Mari,” he was saying. “Might be a far cry from what you’re used to, the men will trade their work clothes for fancier boots and hats, is all. No tuxedos. But there’ll be a good band, lots of good eats, and a good time for everybody.” Bandy grinned at Marielle. “You won’t be a wallflower, that’s for sure. Why, I’m lookin’ forward to twirling you around the dance floor myself. I do a mean two-step. I’m known around these parts as a dancin’ fool, ain’t I, boss?” He looked to Trey for confirmation, his eyes twinkling with humor.

“That he is,” Trey assured Marielle. Her big green eyes were sparking with laughter at Bandy’s tom-foolery.

“It sounds like fun” Marielle said. “Of course I’ll go. But”—she turned to Bandy—” you’ll have to teach me to two-step. I don’t know how.”

Bandy’s face creased with pleasure. “Miss Mari, I’d be honored,” he said gallantly. He took off his hat and from the saddle, bowed with a flourish. The small group of ranch hands chuckled good-naturedly.

“Just let me know when it starts and how to get there, and—” Marielle began.

“Seven o’clock Saturday night. I’ll pick you up,” Trey heard himself saying. He glanced at Marielle. Her lovely eyes seemed to hold a certain wariness. She nodded slowly.

“If you’re sure it’s no trouble….”

“It’s no trouble,” he told her firmly. “I want to.” And heaven help him, he thought as he felt his recent resolution about her slip away … he did.

Marielle watched the lamb gamboling around the barn lot, and laughed out loud at his antics. He was so cute. And smart, too, she thought, recalling how quickly he’d learned where she kept his food. He ran to the grain bin as soon as she let him out of his stall in the barn every morning, eager for breakfast. She eyed him judiciously. It seemed to her that he had already begun to fill out and gain some weight, just in the few short days she’d had him.

And no wonder, she told herself indulgently. He ate like a pig. The little animal came to her and bleated softly, looking up at her with big, long-lashed eyes. Marielle leaned down and petted him. She knew that she was spoiling him. But he’d had a hard life for one so young. Bandy had explained to her that this lamb’s mother had been an old ewe that should have been removed from the breeding stock. Past the age of bearing and rearing young, she had died not long after her baby was born, leaving him alone to fend for himself as best he could.

Well, he was safe and well cared for now, she thought. She’d listened to Bandy’s arguments against bringing the lamb home with her, and understood his point of view. Ranching was a business, after all. Giving special care to individual animals just wasn’t feasible in a large scale operation.

But, she reasoned, her ranch wasn’t large. Far from it. Trey had taken her to his office and told her everything he’d learned about raising sheep for profit. She had had no idea it was so complicated, or so scientific. As Trey had said, a rancher had to know a lot nowadays in order to be successful—about accounting, agriculture, horticulture, animal husbandry, marketing, and more.

Once Marielle had seen a few of the facts and figures pertaining to sheep ranching, she’d understood why Trey was so skeptical that she could make a go of it. Her own flock, which had looked so large to her at first sight, was in fact pitifully small. Uncle Dan had eked out a slender living. But as Trey had pointed out, Uncle Dan had done all the work himself instead of having to hire help as Marielle had planned on doing.

Her spirits sank. How would she make it, she wondered. Back in New York, making excited plans to come out west and take over her own little ranch, she hadn’t factored in things like the multitude of repairs that were needed, or the expense of hiring help, or having to buy hay to get her animals through the winter until she could get her own hay field cut and baled next summer.

Maybe Trey was right, she told herself glumly. Maybe she should throw in the towel, cut her losses, and go back to the big city. She’d been discouraged ever since she’d been to his office and he’d shown her how difficult it might be. Marielle scratched the lamb’s fleecy head abstractedly, still mulling over the grim reality Trey had revealed to her. Obviously her dreams had been founded on not much more than wishful thinking.

Suddenly, she was struck by an unsettling thought. Trey
had
painted a grim picture. Too grim. Was it possible that he’d presented the facts to her as more damning than they really were? After all, she reminded herself uneasily, he did want this ranch. He told her so, right up front. But did he want it badly enough to mislead her about her chances of making enough to get by on? So badly that he’d be willing to deceive her, even intimidate her?

Marielle shook her head. No. No, Trey wouldn’t do that. She was sure of it. He just wasn’t that kind of person.
Neither was Derek,
a small voice whispered in her head.
Remember him? The man who swore his undying love for you, then dropped you like a hot potato when you were no longer a “viable” partner because you lost your job in marketing?

Suddenly unable to be still, Marielle began pacing nervously, the lamb at her heels. No, she told herself firmly, it couldn’t be. It wasn’t fair to compare Trey to Derek. Apples to oranges, she thought. Rotten apples, in Derek’s case.

But … Trey hadn’t made any secret of his interest in acquiring her property. Or missed an opportunity to point out the impossibility of her making a go of it. Or, Marielle remind herself darkly, her unease growing, passed up a single chance to comment on her ridiculous mishaps—holding each one up as an example of her inability to survive up here.

Tired of pacing around in circles, and chilled from the cold wind, Marielle sank down on a small bench inside the hallway of the barn, the lamb at her feet. Was there a possibility, even a remote chance that Trey was trying to get her to leave? She wondered if her attraction to him was making it hard to be objective. She grimaced wryly. Of course it was! She knew that she was so besotted with the man, so fascinated by his dark good looks; enthralled by his sexy and potent charm … objectivity went right out the window. Marielle scowled, scornful of her own weakness.

She had to start thinking with her brain instead of her heart, she decided. Had to force herself to take a mental step backward so that she could bring the picture into focus. The real picture—-not some pretty portrayal of how she wanted things to be. She had to assess the situation dispassionately, using logic instead of lust.

Difficult as it was for her trusting heart to accept, it was certainly possible that Trey was deceiving her about the ranch and her chance of making a modest living here. And she’d been fooled by a man before. It wasn’t just that Derek had lied to her, she reasoned. The point was that she, Marielle, had believed his promise of undying love and fallen for it.

So, she mused, what did that tell her? Was she really that naïve, that gullible, that easily deceived? Well, if Derek had fooled her so easily, Trey certainly could do the same. And do it better. Simply because Trey had more charm and sex appeal even when he was angry than Derek had possessed while exerting himself to be his most appealing.

Time, Marielle told herself decisively, time would tell. In the meantime, she wouldn’t let herself get discouraged about her prospects. Especially, she thought, brightening, if her burgeoning career as an illustrator got off the ground. If that particular dream came true, she wouldn’t have to depend on the ranch for an income, anyway. She could just live up here in this wild, beautiful place and enjoy it.

Marielle shivered, suddenly aware of how very cold it was out here. She stood up and headed for the house, then stopped when she saw Trey’s truck pull into the drive. He got out of the vehicle and came toward her, his long legs eating up the distance between them swiftly.