The Traveling Kind (10 page)

The sudden possession of his mouth caught her off guard. It took her a full second to recover her scattered wits. Her heart continued to trip over itself in an effort to find its normal rhythm.

“You’d better pay attention to your driving,” Charley attempted to sound stern, but her voice was on the breathless side.

Laughter came from deep within his chest as his arm tightened around her, hugging her closer still. “You’re a helluva woman, Charley. I’ve never met anybody like you. And
that
isn’t a line,” he informed her with underlining emphasis.

Charley fell silent, a faint smile curving her mouth as she savored his compliment and basked in the warmth of its afterglow. They passed through Ketchum and the turnoff to the skiing community of Sun Valley. The road to the Collins’s ranch was not many miles away.

Eventually her thoughts returned to the one fact that she could never ignore for long. She found she had to ask him, “Why do you always have to move on, Shad?”

“I don’t know.” He seemed to consider her question with all the seriousness with which she asked it. “Maybe I was born with a wanderlust in my soul. When I was younger, I thought I would come to a place, look around and say to myself, ‘This is it. This is where I’m going to stay.’ But it doesn’t happen like that. After I’ve been in new territory for a while, I start looking around and wondering what’s across the river or over the next hill. It’s taken me a while, but I’ve finally learned that there will always be one more river to cross.”

His answer made it very clear to Charley that she was foolish to hope she could ever change him. She couldn’t change herself. As much as she loved him she would never truly be happy traveling around the country. She would always be longing for a place to call home. It didn’t seem fair. She felt the sting of tears burning her eyes and blinked to keep them at bay.

When they finally reached the ranch lane, Shad needed both hands on the steering wheel to make the sharp turn. As he removed his arm from around her Charley shifted to her own side of the truck. His frowning glance took note of the movement and the whiteness of her face.

“Why have you become so silent again?” he demanded after several seconds had passed. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I was just trying to decide how I was going to keep from crying when you leave.” The truth came out on a note of forced lightness.

It silenced him for a minute. “Charley, you do tempt me to stay.” The very steadiness of his voice revealed that he meant what he had said.

She laughed with a tinge of bitterness as the truck slowed down to enter the ranch yard. “Let’s be honest, Shad. All I do is ‘tempt’ you, but you’ll leave just the same.”

The instant the truck stopped she reached for the door handle and climbed out of the cab. A door slammed behind her as she started for the house. Shad caught up with her before she reached the porch steps, his hand gripping her arm to turn her around.

“Charley—” He started to speak but she didn’t want to listen to what he had to say.

“Just leave me alone, Shad. Don’t hurt me any more than you have already.” She stood rigidly before him, warily defiant. “You said it yourself—you’re no good for me.” She threw his own words back at him and he recoiled from their sting, letting her go.

Her legs were shaking as she climbed the steps and crossed the porch to the front door. She wanted to run, but she managed to make a dignified retreat. Gary was just inside the door, leaning on his crutches. He knew her too well not to read what was written on her face.

“I heard the truck drive inOh, Charley,” he groaned in sympathy. “What have you done?”

“Made a fool of myself as usual. What do you think?” She tried to joke aside the hurt and futile longing in her expression.

“If you had to fall for somebody, why couldn’t it have been Weatherby? I grant you he’ll never win any prize in a Mr. America contest but at least he would have caught you when you fell,” Gary muttered sadly. “You knew right from the beginning that he was a drifter.”

“I knew—and I tried not to care,” she admitted, hanging her head in acknowledgement of failure. “But it didn’t change anything,”

Gary sighed, “Maybe I should have a talk with Russell.”

“No. Just let it be,
’
’ she urged her brother not to interfere. “There isn’t anything you can do to help me. I have to handle this alone, the same way you did,” she nodded, alluding to his broken engagement.

“It hurts like hell, Charley,” he commiserated with a look of pain.

“Don’t I know.” Her short laugh was brittle. She turned away, feeling her composure start to crumble. “I have a headache. I think I’ll go upstairs and lie down for a while.”

“Is there anything I can bring you?” her brother offered.

“No.” She hurried to the steps before she started crying.

There were times when Charley wondered if she would survive the next ten days. Shad stayed clear of her and she could never seem to make up her mind whether she was happy or sad about that. He found a lot of reasons to ride away from the ranch during the day to check on the cattle or repair fences. Mealtimes were stilted affairs with no one saying very much. The evenings Shad either spent in his room or cleaning the tack in the barn or overhauling some piece of machinery.

She rarely saw him smile anymore. He remained aloof whenever she was around, always very brisk and businesslike. Yet this constant avoidance of the issue only intensified the strain they were all under.

On Saturday, Shad came to the house, quitting work early. He did no more than nod in Charley’s direction before climbing the stairs to his room. When she heard the shower running in the upstairs bathroom, she went into the kitchen to peel the potatoes for their evening meal.

Twenty minutes later she heard him coming down the stairs—whistling! The happy sound pivoted her around. She was facing the doorway when Shad walked through it. Freshly shaved with his black hair glistening, he was wearing a snow-white shirt and a leather vest. A pair of dark pants snugly fit his slim hips.

“Don’t bother to fix any supper for me tonight. I won’t be here,” he said.

“Where are you going?” She could have bitten off her tongue for asking such a nosy question. It really wasn’t any business of hers what he did with his evenings, but it was too late. It had already been asked.

His mouth twisted into a kind of wry grin. “What does a cowboy usually do on a Saturday night? He has himself a steak dinner, romances the ladies, and gets drunk.” Gary entered the kitchen in time to hear his answer and Shad turned to look at him. “What about it, Gary? Do you want to go with me?”

“You’ll probably need me to carry you home,” he said dryly and shook his head in refusal, “but I think I’ll pass on the invitation and wait until I have two sound legs before going out on the town.”

“Have it your way,” Shad shrugged indifferently. “See you later.”

Charley turned to face the sink as he walked out the back door. From the window above the sink, she could see him cross the yard to the old pickup. There was a lump in her throat as she watched him drive out of the yard.

“Charley.” Her brother spoke her name softly.

“I’m all right,” she insisted, but was careful not to look at him. “It really doesn’t make much difference, does it? When he leaves here, I’ll be imagining him with some other woman so I might as well get used to it now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Gary complained.

“It would be worse if I pretended he was going to stay,” she reminded him.

Chapter Six

AFTER SUPPER GARY helped her clear the table and do the dishes, which was practically unheard-of coming from him. Propping himself against the sink, with the crutches under his arms for support, he washed the dishes while Charley dried them and put them away.

“How about a game of checkers?” he suggested when they were finished.

“I’m not really in the mood—” she started to refuse, then realized he was trying to be thoughtful and keep her mind away from Shad and what he might be doing. She smiled quickly. “All right, why not?”

The first two games were close, although Gary won them both, but he was the better checker player, too. On the third, her concentration faltered and it was barely a contest. Her gaze kept straying to the kitchen wall clock as the evening crept by. Charley lost the fourth and fifth games, too.

When the sixth showed signs of turning into a rout, her brother grumbled, “I can’t believe that anyone I taught to play checkers could play the game so badly.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I wasn’t paying attention.” Her glance darted to the wall clock.

“It’s twenty-five minutes to ten,” Gary said dryly. “The last time you looked it was twenty- seven minutes to ten.”

“I’m sorry.” She felt guilty because he was trying so hard to keep her entertained.

“And stop saying you’re sorry.” He flashed her an impatient look.

“I’m—” She had been on the verge of saying it again and caught herself just in time. They looked at each other and laughed, breaking the invisible tension in the air. “It’s no use, Gary,” Charley sighed. “I might as well admit defeat now. I can’t concentrate.”

“It’s a losing battle, isn’t it?” He dumped the checkers into their box, calling it quits.

“Yes, but it was a nice thought,” she said as she pushed her chair away from the kitchen table.

“What are you going to do?” He put the lid on the box and handed it to her so she could put it away in the cupboard.

“I think I’ll take a long soak in the tub—and hopefully scrub that man out from under my skin,” Charley joked with a self-mocking smile.

“Good luck.” Gary sounded suitably doubtful of her success. As he started to pull himself upright with his crutches he winced and turned white with pain, sitting back down again.

“What’s wrong?” she frowned with instant concern.

“Nothing,” he insisted. “I’ve just been sitting in one position too long. It’ll pass.” He tried to stand up again and Charley could see that it hurt him but he finally managed to get upright.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of those pain pills the doctor prescribed for you?” she suggested.

“No, it’ll go away.” But his jaw was clenched against the discomfort as he bit down hard.

“You won’t make it easy on yourself, will you?” she chided him. “You have to tough it out.”

His gaze flashed her a challenge. “Look who’s talking.” He reminded Charley of her own harshly realistic outlook.

“All right, I’ll stop throwing stones,” she promised and started toward the stairwell in the living room. “If you need anything, call me.”

“I will,” he promised.

In the second-floor bathroom, she turned on the water faucets in the tub and adjusted the water temperature until it was comfortably hot. She dumped in some bubble bath. On impulse she added an extra splash, giving in to a whim of self-indulgence. There had been enough misery in her life of late and she decided she deserved a little pampering.

While the tub was filling with water she went into her bedroom to undress and get her cotton bathrobe. When she returned, the bathtub was mounded with bubbles. Turning off the faucets, Charley piled her hair on top of her head, secured it with a comb, and climbed into the tub to stretch out the full length of it, resting her head on the curved porcelain back. She closed her eyes and let the fragrant water act as a balm to soothe her inner aches.

After she had been in the tub barely ten minutes, she heard the thump of Gary’s crutches in the living room below. The sound was followed by the opening of the stairwell door.

“Charley!” He called up to her and she frowned at the interruption of her quiet bath. “Where are those pain pills from the doctor?”

She opened her eyes in surprise. His leg must really be bothering him for Gary to give in and ask for the pills. “They’re in the medicine cabinet.” She shouted the answer, and heard him thump away.

In a few minutes he was back. “Charley!”

“What?”

“I can’t find them! What kind of bottle are they in?” His patience seemed to be running thin.

“It’s brown!” She called down and waited as he thumped off again.

This time he wasn’t gone as long and his voice was decidedly more irritable when he called, “There are three bottles in the medicine cabinet that are brown! How am I supposed to tell them apart?”

Charley sighed in mild exasperation. “I’ll get them!”

Climbing out of the tub, she grabbed a towel and blotted the excess moisture from her body. Her robe was hanging on the door hook. She slipped into it, tugging the cotton material over her damp skin and buttoning it as she hurried out of the bathroom to the staircase.

Once she was downstairs, Gary protested, “You could have told me what to look for. You didn’t have to come down.’’

“Now you tell me,” she retorted. Then she saw how white his face was beneath the tan and added in a gentler tone, “I don’t mind. It’s better than wondering if you took a pill from the wrong bottle.”

With Gary following her, she went to the medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom and took out the brown bottle containing his medication. She didn’t bother to point out to him that neither of the other two brown bottles contained pills. One was iodine and the other held cotton balls. She gave him the prescribed dosage and a glass of water to wash them down.