Never the Twain (22 page)

Every time her phone at work rang, she expected him to be on the line, wanting to know
when he could begin work in the Shinbone. And every time, she was disappointed.

Genny sipped her cold tea, knowing she must do whatever was necessary to spend the rest
of her life with Rock McConnell. Anything else wouldn't be much of a life, no matter how much her
own boss she was.

* * * *

Rock quickly shuffled through the mail. Nothing.

The Ainsworths had been finished in Skeleton Gulch for two weeks now. He'd seen 'em,
purely by chance, the day they'd packed out, their string of horses and mules plodding toward the
Succor Creek Road. He tossed the handful of envelopes on the seat beside him. He was a patient
man, but his patience was plumb wore out!

He'd call Dan Walters right after dinner, find out what was holding up his permit
now.

It hadn't better be a certain fancy archaeologist. He'd be ready to start construction of the
waterhole as soon as Pancho came back to work.

Braking the pickup by the back porch, he sat and stared across the yard. Redecorating!
Pancho was over there painting and fixing up the old hired man's house so his fancy city woman
would be comfortable. He'd been off a week now, and was planning on taking another week, and
never mind Rock needed him. The boys were startin' to complain about frozen pizza and crockpot
stews.

If he didn't know better he'd think there was a conspiracy against him. It was real strange
how Lizzie Kelpin had to go visit her grandkids the same two weeks Pancho took the first vacation
he'd had in six years.
Damn!
Almost noon and he still had to thaw out some soup for
dinner.

When Sophie called that afternoon with an invitation for supper, he hadn't the backbone to
resist. He was so damn tired of his own cooking.

"Have some more spuds, Brad?" Pancho handed the bowl across the table to the foreman
who was batching it while his wife was in California.

"Thanks." Brad smothered the mashed potatoes with cream gravy. "I had coffee with Dan
and Genny this afternoon," he said, then spent an inordinate time cutting his pork chop into bite
sized pieces. "They got the Ainsworths' report a couple of days back."

"What'd it say?" Rock heard the bark in his voice and clamped his jaw shut.

"They recommended further investigation." Brad took a bite, chewed slowly. "In Toebone
and Armbone," he finally said, as if it was an afterthought.

"So we get the waterhole?"

"He didn't say. Genny figured it'd be a week or two before she got around to our permit."
He turned to Sophie. "Ma'am, I always thought my mama made the best cream gravy there was, but
yours is something else."

"Thank you, Brad." Sophie beamed. "Would you like to take what's left home with you?
And the rest of the pork chops? That way you won't have to cook for yourself tomorrow
night."

"What'd it say about the Shinbone?" Rock demanded, before Brad could accept Sophie's
offer.

His foreman lowered his head and looked at Rock over the top of his glasses. "Not much.
Didn't you hear me, boy? They didn't find anything down there." Tossing his napkin beside his plate,
Brad stood. "If it's all the same to you, ma'am, I'll take a rain check on dessert. Molly said she'd call
this evening, and I want to be there. Thank you kindly for supper." He took the covered bowls
Sophie handed him. "Night, Pancho. Night, Sophie."

Rock stared after him. He felt like he'd been whopped. Brad never raised his voice, but he
had a way of lettin' a man know when he was provoked, no doubt about it.

Rock cleaned up his plate in silence, refusing to add his compliments to Brad's. As soon as
supper was over, he was going home too, not being in any mood to socialize.

"I wonder if Brad remembered to give those recipes to Genny today." Sophie's voice came
from the kitchen.

"He did. She told him she's going to serve sheepherder beans and cornbread at her party
Friday night," Pancho answered.

Rock did his best not to listen. The less he heard about Genny, the better he liked it.

Not that he could keep her out of his mind. She seemed to slip into his thoughts more
often each day. Hot need woke him in the night, desire that only Genny could diminish. Silence,
always solace to his soul, now seemed barren. Wide open spaces cried to be filled. The wind sang
her name, whispering and whining through the sagebrush.

Rock was picking up his hat, ready to say goodnight, when Sophie came out of the kitchen.
"By the way, Genille won't be here for dinner Sunday, Pancho. I think she has a date. She sounded
excited."

Rock's ears pricked up.

"You'd better call her tomorrow then. Tony came by today to tell me his grandmother's
pasture will be for rent the first of the month. If she wants it, she will need to contact him right
away."

"I think she's looking for a small acreage, dear, not just a pasture. But I'll tell her." As she
spoke, Sophie sank into her rocking chair and picked up a sewing basket.

Rock still couldn't get over how well she seemed to be adapting to being a housewife. He
wondered if the novelty would last out the winter or if it would wear off the first time they were
snowed in.

He stood, his chair scraping across the floor with a harsh screech. He'd try to catch Dan
Walters at home tonight, since the man had apparently spent the afternoon drinking coffee at the
cafe.

"Thanks for supper, folks," he said, already feeling the porkchops and gravy sitting like a
hard lump in his middle.
What the hell is Genille Forsythe doing, looking for an acreage
hereabouts?

* * * *

"He's planning on going to the concert, dear," Sophie said, "and he'll be riding up with
us."

"Are you sure this is wise, Sophie? He's going to be furious. And Aaron is having second
thoughts." She had to laugh. "He made me promise that our little adventure wouldn't be hazardous
to his health."

"Trust me, Genille. Rock needs to be jarred out of his complacency."

"I just hope this works the way you think it will. What if he doesn't see the humor?" Genny
scratched between Marmalade's ears, but failed to enjoy the cat's satisfied purr. "What if it makes
matters worse instead of better?" Sudden tears stung her eyes. "I just can't give him up, Sophie. Not
without fighting for him."

"Of course you can't. I just think that a little gentle deception might be a better strategy
than a direct attack."

"I suppose. And I admit I can't see myself roping and hog-tying him like a calf at the
rodeo." Genny sighed and moved the telephone to the other ear. Anything, even trickery, was better
than doing nothing at all. "If only he would listen to reason."

Sophie's sigh was an echo. "Even Pancho agrees that is not an option. And I can't think of
anything else to do."

"Neither can I, Sophie. Neither can I." Genny knew she was playing with fire. She was
either going to get everything her heart desired, or she was going to be so badly burned she might
never recover.

* * * *

"Is that him?" Aaron sounded worried.

"That's him." Genny feasted her eyes on Rock, three rows ahead and just to her left. She'd
seen the three from the Rock and Rye as soon as they walked down the aisle, Rock's height catching
her attention even before she spied Sophie in the gold lame blouse that her aunt had promised she'd
wear. Rock didn't look good. There were circles under his eyes and the lines around his mouth were
grim.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this," Aaron protested. "Doing a favor for a friend is one
thing, Genny, but I get the feeling I'm being set up for disaster."

She couldn't help laughing. Aaron Kozic was as big as Rock and easily as tough. He'd
survived the streets of inner Boston as a child, probably learning tricks of dirty fighting that a nice,
clean-cut cowboy like Rock never heard of. She patted his hand. "Don't worry. I doubt it'll come to
outright war." Tonight she was filled with incurable optimism.

"Why don't I believe you?" Aaron said, looking skeptical.

Genny just grinned, because the lights were dimming and the crowd growing quiet. She
relaxed, determined to enjoy the concert and not think about Rock McConnell and her aunt's
campaign to convince him he couldn't live without her.

"They better have the best pie west of the Mississippi," Aaron warned a bit over two hours
later. He turned into the restaurant parking lot beside Sophie's new minivan. "I have a feeling the
condemned man is about to eat his last meal."

"Oh, pooh," Genny said. "All you have to do is act as if I'm the sweetest thing to come
down the pike. It's not as if you have to leer or anything."

"Oi vey!" Aaron threw his hands into the air. "What will my poor Anna say when she is a
widow so young?"

Genny couldn't help the giggles that spilled from her lips. "Stop it, Aaron! You know Anna
thinks this is a great idea."

"She hasn't seen the Rock." His expression was lugubrious.

Doubt again struck Genny. "You don't have to do this. I'm probably crazy to even
consider it."

He reached across and patted her knee. "Relax, Forsythe. I'll stop with the leg pulling."
Releasing his seat belt, he opened the door. "Shall we, madam? Let the farce begin."

Genny swallowed hard. Was she about to make an enormous mistake?

Rock glowered when she and Aaron joined him and Sophie and Pancho in a booth by the
window. She didn't hear two words from him throughout the hour and more they sat in the bright
cafe, drinking coffee and discussing the dazzling piano artistry they'd just experienced. Albertson
College sponsored a visiting artist program every year and this evening's appearance by sisters
famous for their duets was the season's opener.

Her participation in the general conversation was limited to monosyllabic responses to
questions, brilliant smiles at Aaron whenever he spoke to her, and surreptitious glances at Rock
from under her lashes. Whenever she felt his glare, she grew hot with desire, cold with dread that
she would lose him. When he wasn't looking at her, she felt shaky with fear that he didn't care for
her, that her plan would fail because Rock really didn't need her in his life.

Aaron was answering Pancho's questions. "I guess what pulled Genny and me together in
college was our mutual fascination with the West. We lost touch when I went to Montana for
graduate school and she went to Harvard."

Darn! She hadn't told Rock where she'd done her graduate work. Now he really would
think she didn't belong in Owyhee Country.

"Yes, it was a real surprise to find Genny nearby when I arrived in Boise. But we soon
picked up where we'd left off."

She had to admire Aaron's storytelling ability. He hadn't said anything untrue, for they had
resumed their friendship as if there had been no years of separation. It was just his expression, his
touching her hand, that implied their relationship was warmer than it was. Much warmer.

Sophie said something. Genny wasn't sure what, but it caused Rock's already tightly set
mouth become even more firm.

"I wish we could," Aaron replied, "but we're going to spend the day house hunting." His
smile at Genny was as fatuous and as revealing as she could have asked for.

"Let's go!" Rock was on his feet, tossing money on the table. "It's a long drive, and
tomorrow mornin' comes real early."

Sophie smiled at Genny and Pancho winked before they obediently followed Rock out of
the cafe.

"Whew! For a minute there, I though I was dog food," Aaron said, sliding down until his
head could rest on the back of the bench. "Now I know what it feels like to have someone stare
daggers at me."

Genny patted his hand. "You did just fine," she told him. "He's mad as hops."

"I just hope we didn't overdo it. He acted more like a jealous lover than a man who sees
his last hope for happiness slipping through his fingers." Aaron added to the loose cash on the table.
"Do you want me to drive?"

Genny drove Aaron to his home south of Nampa, then headed west. She worried about
Aaron's words all the way back to Vale. She wanted Rock to miss her because he loved her, not
because he didn't want her belonging to another man.

Rock waited impatiently while Pancho took the mail inside. He wanted to get on the road
to Boise, but Pancho had to ride as far as Homedale with him, to pick up the truck they'd taken in
for an engine overhaul. They'd need it next week, when they started bringing stock down from the
high country.

He couldn't believe it was almost October already. Maybe it was true, that time flew when
you were having fun.

And he had had fun. This past summer had been the best he could remember, even though
he'd known all along that it couldn't last.

He'd read a poem long ago, when he was in college. "Jenny kiss'd me..." it said, then
"something...something...say I'm growing old but add, Jenny kiss'd me."

He knew now what the poet had meant, that he'd snubbed time because of Jenny's kiss.
Genny had kissed Rock, and he would never be the same.

Pancho climbed into the pickup. "Sophie says Genny and Aaron found a house."

Rock turned the air blue with his swearing before he got himself in hand about ten miles
up the road. After that he didn't say a word all the way to Homedale.

But he thought. He thought a lot about Genny in his arms. Genny in his house. Genny in
his bed.

"Have a good trip," Pancho said as he got out.

"Yeah." Rock pulled out into the street, still thinking about Genny. She wasn't a tenderfoot
any longer. Genny wasn't a city girl, as he'd first figured, and she wasn't even a typical Easterner. But
damn it, she was a Harvard graduate.

He was just a cowboy from Owyhee Country.

She fit right in with his friends, at the Daniels' party and at the barbecue for Sophie and
Pancho. So had her people, for that matter, except maybe her mother. Mrs. Forsythe had seemed
nervous all day, as if she expected to see a herd of stampeding buffalo pour over the nearest hill any
minute.