The Traveling Kind (3 page)

He sighed tiredly. “Would you cut my pants for me, please?”

“Of course.” Her smile was wide and filled with warmth as she reached out to take the jeans from him. “The scissors are in the bureau drawer, not the basket.”

Gary leaned on his crutches and watched her snipping at the leg of his jeans. “How come you hired this stranger? I thought we agreed to get one of the local boys.” It was a statement, not an opening for an argument.

“They’re all working. When I stopped in at Frank’s to see if his son was available, this Shad Russell was there and asked for the job,” she explained how it had come about.

“Where is he from?” he frowned curiously.

“Here and there. I didn’t ask specifically,” Charley admitted.

“What kind of experience does he have?”

“His list of previous employers reads like the
Who’s Who
of the cattle business,” she replied dryly as the scissors sliced through the last bit of cloth. “Sit down in that chair and we’ll see if we can get your pants on.”

Gary maneuvered awkwardly to sit on the edge of a straight chair, resting his crutches against the side. With the cast holding his leg stiff, it was a struggle working the jeans to where he could get both feet through the pant legs. When he could finally stand up again, Charley pulled the Levi’s the rest of the way up.

“What you’re saying is this guy is a drifter.” Gary continued on with the subject as he succeeded in balancing himself on the crutches long enough to fasten his pants.

“That’s right.” She returned the scissors to their place in the bureau drawer. “I didn’t think it mattered since we wouldn’t want him to stay past summer anyway.”

“No, it doesn’t I guess,” he agreed. “What are you going to fix for lunch?”

Charley glanced at the clock. It was an hour before noon. “All you think about anymore is your stomach,” she chided him. “As much as you’ve been eating lately, you’re going to gain twenty pounds before you get that cast off.”

“You try dragging this deadweight around with you—” he gestured toward the cast “—and you’ll work up an appetite, too,” he retorted.

“During these next six weeks that you’re convalescing, why don’t you learn to cook?” Charley suggested. “That will be one less chore for me to do.”

The sibling discussion was interrupted by footsteps on the stairs. Charley turned as Shad Russell emerged from the stairwell. His blue glance rested briefly on her, then shifted to her brother. Yet, in that second, all her senses were brought to full awareness.

“I thought I’d take my saddle and tack to the barn, then have a look around,” Shad stated his intentions.

“I’ll come with you and give you a rundown on our operation,” Gary volunteered, adjusting the crutches under his arms to hobble with the man. “Charley can get lunch ready while we’re gone.”

A few minutes past noon, they sat down at the kitchen table to eat the lunch Charley had fixed. During the meal the conversation centered on ranch topics that ranged from work needing to be done to the cattle market and futures. Charley could tell her brother was impressed by the indifferent flow of knowledge that came from Shad Russell. His experience in the business was wide and far-reaching, yet it was revealed in a manner that could only be described as offhand. He had a keen and intelligent mind, able to discard ranching methods that didn’t suit their operation and discuss others that could be incorporated to improve their present system. There never was a critical comment from Shad, nor any attempt to force a suggestion on them. An idea was idly mentioned, discussed and judged on its own merits to be either considered or rejected by Gary.

Shad Russell was becoming more and more of an enigma to Charley. He had traits she could admire in a man—his intelligence, his tact, and his quiet authority—but she never permitted herself to lose sight of the fact that he was a drifter. Today he was here, but he might be gone on the morrow.

Dessert was a fudge cake that Charley had baked the day before, and strong black coffee. When it was consumed, Shad leaned back in his chair, stretching with the contentment of a man whose stomach is full. His dancing blue gaze swung to Charley and she watched again as a smile broke from the corners of his eyes, slashing lines in his lean bronze cheeks.

“It’s been so long since I’ve sat down to a home-cooked meal, I had forgotten how good it can taste.”

It was a sincere compliment with no attempt at flattery. Reaching out to her, it stroked her senses like a caress.

All she could think of was that old adage: the. . . . way to a man’s heart is through his stomach

Shaken by the thought, for she knew it wasn’t possible to permanently tame a wild thing—it would always revert to its old ways—she warned herself again not to become involved with a man who was only passing through her life.

So she took his compliment and responded to it with a casual reply. “My mother was an excellent cook. I was taught by the best.” She rose to clear the table of dishes and paused to offer, “More coffee?”

“No, thanks,” Shad refused with the same lazy smile in place. “I thought I’d spend the afternoon riding around to familiarize myself with the layout of the ranch. Is it all right if I take my pick of the horses?”

“Ride whatever one you want.” Gary gave him complete freedom in his selection.

When his departing footsteps became echoes in her mind, Charley paused in her stacking of the dirty dishes to glance at her silent brother. He was staring thoughtfully into space. A shooting twinge of pain broke his reverie and he grimaced, his hand reaching down to grip the hard cast encasing his thigh.

“Have you taken any of those pain pills the doctor prescribed for you?” Charley eyed him in silent accusation, already guessing the answer.

“No,” he admitted defensively. “I don’t want to start depending on pills.”

“You want to be the big strong hero gritting his teeth in the face of pain,” she chided him.

Gary changed the subject. “That Shad is a walking encyclopedia about ranching. I feel as if I’ve just spent an hour in school over lunch. That guy is sharp.”

“Yes.” Charley turned back to her dishes, uncomfortable with the subject he’d introduced.

“In a way, it’s a rotten shame he’s using all that talent working for someone else,” he remarked. “But I can’t help feeling we were lucky that you stumbled onto him. The man knows his business, I have no doubt about that. What do you suppose makes a man with so much going for him turn into a wandering fool?”

“I really don’t know.” But she wished she did.

Her gaze lifted to the window above the sink with its view of the barns and adjoining corrals. She saw Shad riding away and recognized the horse instantly. Dollar was a solid bay gelding without any markings except for a circle of white on his forehead the size of a silver dollar. He was the best all-around horse in the string, which showed that Shad Russell was a good judge of horseflesh.

Chapter Two

THE ALARM CLOCK went off precisely at five o’clock the next morning. Charley rolled over with a groan while her hand fumbled over the nightstand to find the clock and shut it off. The urge was strong to go back to sleep and ignore the strident summons but her conscience wouldn’t let her. She tried to push the sleep from her face without success and lethargically swung her legs from beneath the bedcovers onto the floor.

Her eyes were heavy with sleep, opened to mere slits as she stumbled to the chair where her cotton bathrobe was lying. She slipped into it out of habit rather than conscious direction and made for the door. Outside her room, the second floor was quiet—nothing and no one stirring. Not fully awake, yet not sleepwalking, either, Charley drifted down the stairs in a hazy consciousness that fell somewhere in between the two extremes.

By instinct she was guided to the kitchen. Her mind had memorized how to make coffee until she could literally do it with her eyes closed. When the percolator was plugged into the wall socket, she leaned back against the counter and let her head rest against the upper cupboard. Propped in a standing position, she let herself sink into a half sleep until the aroma of freshly perked coffee would stir her. But it was a man’s voice that roused her first.

“Good morning.”

Her lashes flickered long enough to give her a glimpse of the tall, lean man with crow-black hair and clear blue eyes as he came into the kitchen. She was too sleepy to be disturbed from her relaxed position.

“Is it? I haven’t been able to wake up long enough to find out if it’s a good morning or not,” Charley murmured with her eyes closed.

There was a pulsebeat of silence before the low drawling voice came back. “You need to be kissed awake.”

For some reason the comment struck Charley as being pleasantly amusing and she slanted her lips into a faint smile. Then a pair of hands were on her waist, pulling her away from the support of the kitchen cupboards. Startled by the unexpected contact, her eyes flashed open to witness the roguish glint of a blue pair regarding her so steadily. Her hands came up to ward him off but when they came in contact with the muscled flatness of his chest, they lost their purpose. Surprise had tipped her head back, bringing it into line with the one bending toward her. Its movement slid her glance to the malely drawn mouth, hypnotizing her with its steady approach.

When the warm possession of his mouth claimed her lips, she savored the heady glow of pleasure that swamped her senses. Her pliant body allowed itself to be enfolded by the circling pair of arms and yielded to the dominating outline of his hard, male length. The drugging fire of his kiss spread through her veins and ignited a response that had her kissing him back. She was more than content in his embrace, filled with a sense of rightness that had no basis in reality.

A coolness swept over her lips when he removed his mouth to end the kiss. More coolness was interjected between them as he allowed a space to be created. A little dazed, she blinked her round hazel eyes at him. She had been kissed by a stranger—a hired hand at that. She was confused about why she had permitted it to happen and why he had done it.

He turned away from her, reaching for a coffee cup to be filled from the freshly brewed pot. “You’re fully awake now,” he observed.

“Yes.” Awake to the needs of her body and awake to him—the sharply cut profile of polished teak, the sure touch of his hands and the lime fragrance of his after-shave. But most of all she was awakened by the searing influence of his kiss.

“Would you like me to pour you a cup?” His sidelong glance was alive with knowledge of his effect on her.

“Yes,” she repeated the affirmative, finally stirring from her position at the counter. “Why did you kiss me just now?” she frowned in wary demand.

“Sheer impulse.”

He turned to offer her the cup in his hand, that roguish male vitality glittering in his eyes as he held her gaze. He was still standing very close to her, fully dressed, so much more in command of himself and the situation than she was. “When I walked into the kitchen, it was such a domestic scene—the little woman in her housecoat and her caramel-colored hair all disheveled from sleep, waiting for her man to come downstairs for that first cup of coffee.”

The reference to her appearance was accompanied by a skimming glance that prompted Charley to pull the cotton robe more tightly closed in front and comb her fingers through the heavy tangle of her hair in an attempt to bring it to some kind of order. The mocking glint of laughter in his look brought a trace of pink to her cheeks. Charley wasn’t sure whether the rush of heat came from anger of embarrassment—or the intimacy implied in his use of the words “little woman” and “her man.”

“A morning kiss seemed to be in order,” Shad finished his explanation and moved with a gliding stride to the table. Pulling out a chair, he sat down and let his gaze return to her. “I’ve never been one to observe the rules of proper conduct. I’d be lying if I apologized for my behavior. I can’t imagine being sorry for kissing a beautiful woman, even if she happens to be the boss’s sister.”

She was trembling with the force of the confused upheaval taking place within. She had found too much pleasure in his kiss to want him to regret it had taken place. It would be foolish and childish to make an issue out of something so harmless. She simply wasn’t the type to play the outraged female; besides, she had responded to him and he knew it. Yet it wasn’t a course of action that she wanted to pursue, so perhaps she should straighten that point out right now.

“Mr. Russell—” she began in a crisp, authoritative tone.

But he interrupted. “Shad,” he corrected with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Very well, Shad.” She conceded that formality at this point was a little ludicrous. “I think we should get our positions clear. In a couple of months or less, you are going to be moving on—to another job, maybe to another state. Your kind always think there is greener grass somewhere else. I won’t deny that you are a good-looking man, but while you’re here, you can practice your charms on someone else.

“I don’t want to become involved with you, Shad. You are only interested in a casual flirtation or a brief affair. You don’t want any relationship that will tie you down. I’ve had my share of meaningless relationships. Now I’m looking for something that is solid and lasting, so don’t expect me to be any more than friendly toward you from now on. You’ll have to find someone else to provide your female entertainment.”