Unconventional Series Collection (30 page)

Jenny could not fathom what had possessed her
brother to hire Ryder as a hired hand, and whenever she confronted him, he
merely shrugged and made a remark about it being time for her to face her past.
Even Angel, who had seemed confused by his action at first, now seemed to agree
with him.

When Jenny approached her parents about moving
back to their home, they also sided with Luke. Now she spent her days hiding
inside her cottage. Often, she would peek through the curtains to see Ryder
leading horses in and out of the barn. After four days, she was so angry with
her family and Ryder that she could spit nails. So far, Ryder had not
approached her again.

Joy was cranky most of the time and incessantly
asked to go outdoors and play with Eva. The more Joy whined the angrier Jenny
became. Finally, unable to bear another day of oppression, she lifted Joy into
her arms, walked the short distance to the back door of her brother's home, and
entered the kitchen. Angel smiled and stopped stirring the batter for whatever
she was creating.

"Jenny, I'm so happy you're here. Eva's
been crying every day for Joy."

Joy hollered, "Eva," and struggled out
of her mother's arms.

Guilt plagued Jenny as she watched her daughter
run to the hearth where Eva was playing with her dolls on a rug. The children
squealed and hugged each other.

Jenny sighed and then remembered the reason for
her visit. "Will you watch Joy for awhile?"

"Of course, honey. What's up?"

"It's time for a showdown. I'm going to
confront Ryder and find out what he wants." Cynically, she added,
"Isn't that what my family wants—for me to face my past?"

"We only want what's best for you,"
Angel answered softly.

Jenny retorted, "How this can be best for
me, I don't know. But I'm tired of living like a prisoner in my own home."
With those words, she gave a last glance at Joy and then turned on her heel
leaving the kitchen the same way she came in.

Stomping toward the barn, her courage began to
fail. Ryder was a formidable opponent and quick-witted. Whatever his game, she
would have to outsmart him. At the barn entrance she asked one of the teenage
boys Luke had hired until the start of school where Mr. Ryder was. The boy
jerked his head toward the inside of the barn and said, "He's mucking
stalls."

Jenny almost laughed aloud. One of the foremost
painters in America, possibly the world, was mucking the barn! The knowledge
gave her courage to proceed. He didn't have his grand house, or his haughty
servants, or his canvas and paints to intimidate her and shield him from her
wrath.

She marched to where she saw hay being tossed
over the railing of one of the stalls at the back of the barn. She saw Ryder
before he saw her. He used his one arm efficiently and talked to the horse
while he worked. Jenny could not make out his words, but she recognized the
hypnotic power of his tone—the deep, soothing timbre. He looked up, staying his
pitchfork from another toss. The intensity of his gaze almost made her turn and
run back to the safety of her home. She wanted to be a thousand miles away.

He didn't say anything, merely kept his eyes
glued to hers. The neigh of a horse broke her trance. Lifting her skirt, she
preceded forward, her anger returning full force. When she reached the stall
next to the one Ryder was in front of, she smirked, "So, the great artist,
Jake Ryder, is now mucking barns. How the mighty have fallen."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Spitefulness is
uncharacteristic of you, Jenny. But I suppose I deserve that."

His answer unnerved her, but she kept her
expression impassive.

Ryder asked, "What can I do for you?"

Jenny sputtered disbelieving his response,
"You-you can tell me why you're here and what it will take to make you
leave."

Ryder stuck his pitchfork in the hay and leaned
against it. For a long moment he chewed the inside of his jaw. Finally, he
responded. "When I first arrived, I wanted to know if I had a child. If
so, I wanted to meet my child and then chastise you for keeping that
information from me." He paused, glanced at the rafters as if considering
his next words, and then back at Jenny. "Now, I want something in addition
to that."

Afraid to ask, but at the same time afraid not
to, Jenny rasped, "What do you want, Ryder?"

"It's simple, Jenny, I want my child and I
want you, too. I want to become your husband."

Jenny clasped her hands to her throat.

"What! No! You kicked me out of your life
three years ago and made your feelings explicit—I am a nuisance to you–"

Ryder interrupted, "You're wrong, Jenny.
You have
never
been a nuisance to me. Not even when you forced yourself
into my presence. I sent you away to protect you."

"Protect me! Protect me from what?"

"From me."

Jenny started backing out of the barn. "No,
Ryder. There can never be anything between us. You not only robbed my virtue,
but my innocent view of life. It wouldn't work because I could never balance
your cynicism. We would destroy each other."

 For each backward step Jenny took, Ryder
advanced forward. After a dozen paces, he said, "You're wrong. Our roles
have reversed. Now I'm
your
balance, love."

Jenny gasped.

"I'm coming to your house tonight to meet
my daughter."

Unable to retort, Jenny placed her fist against
her mouth and turned and ran from the barn.

* * *

Ryder watched Jenny retreat into her cottage.
When he had seen her approach, his heart had shouted for joy. Perhaps he was
making headway. Oh, she still despised him, but at least she was talking to
him; confronting him.

Smiling to himself, he returned to his chores.
When he finished, he helped the other hands as best he could with corral
repairs. Shortly before supper, he returned to his cot in the bunkhouse behind
the barn and grabbed some clean clothes. In the washroom next to the bunkhouse,
he cleaned up and combed his longish hair. His heart drummed knowing he was
about to meet his daughter. That is, if Jenny hadn't hightailed it someplace
with her.

The old cook called supper and the men gathered
round the long table in the outbuilding attached to the kitchen. So far, Ryder
was impressed by Luke's ranch and its workings. The man obviously knew what he
was doing and treated his hired help well, paying a decent wage and keeping
nice quarters.

Ryder didn't say much during the meal, only
politely replied to direct questions. He knew the men were curious and wondered
why Luke had hired a one-armed man, especially when the ranch didn't need more
help. However, most cowboys were loners and didn't butt in where they weren't
asked.

After dinner, Ryder grabbed his hat off the hook
over his cot, declined a poker game invitation, and stepped into a dusk of
pinks and reds in a blazing western sky. Inhaling deeply to calm his
nervousness, he walked toward Jenny's cottage.

Muted light shined through thick curtains and a
shadow passed across them. Ryder's boots sounded loud on the wooden planks of
the porch. The howl of a dog was followed by an answering one. His heart
hammered when he softly knocked on the green front door, painted to match the
trim of the cottage and also that of the main house. After a minute, he knocked
again.

Slowly, the door cracked and Jenny, looking
lovely in her anger, whispered fiercely, "You have five minutes and then I
want you gone. I'm only allowing this because I know you won't leave until
you've met her."

Without waiting for his response, she opened the
door wider and stepped aside. Ryder removed his Stetson and entered the room,
staying beside the door. Jenny walked to the back of the house and into another
room. She returned carrying their precious daughter. Joy must have just had her
bath because her wet hair was combed back from her face, the ends still
dripping water on her shoulders. Big blue eyes stared at him and she hugged her
mother's neck tightly. She wore a pink nightgown with a ruffle on the bottom
and tiny pink knitted slippers.

Jenny said, "Joy, I'd like you to meet Mr.
Ryder. Uncle Luke hired him to help out on the ranch."

Ryder stepped away from the door, carefully
approaching his child. "Hello, Joy. You have a beautiful name. You know
what happens when I hear your name?"

The child looked at him curiously and then shook
her head. "What?"

He grinned. "It makes me happy. Your mother
did well in naming you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small
box. "I have something for you."

Joy squirmed, trying to climb out of her
mother's arms. "Mama, down."

Jenny gave Ryder a scathing look, but he ignored
her. She set Joy down. Squatting, he held the box out and waited for his
daughter to come to him. Cautiously, she approached. When she stood in front of
him, he said, "Go ahead, take it; it's a present for you."

Joy reached for the box. The feel of her tiny
hand touching his made Ryder's throat constrict and he blinked back tears.

Joy turned the box over in her hands.
"Pretty." She smiled at him.

"Would you like me to help you open
it?"

His baby nodded and Ryder welcomed the chance to
touch her chubby little fingers again. Together, they lifted the top off and
Joy reached for the tiny necklace with golden hearts strung along a golden
chain.

She said, "Ooooh. Mama look."

Jenny knelt beside Joy. "It's very pretty,
sweetheart. Would you like me to keep it in my jewelry box for you?"

"No, Mama. I wear it." She stretched
her hand out toward her mother with the necklace dangling from her fingers.

Ryder watched Jenny's face, but she refused to
look at him. Being so close, he wanted to smooth the displeasure from her
forehead. Instead, he watched her open the clasp of the tiny necklace and drape
it around Joy's neck. When it was snugly in place, his beautiful baby twirled
around holding out the sides of her nightgown. She said, "Joy is princess."

The moisture in Ryder's eyes refused to leave
and he turned his head, swiping quickly at it. When he looked back, Jenny was
fingering the corners of her own eyes. Softly, she said, "Tell Mr. Ryder
thank you."

Joy stopped twirling. "Tank tu, Misser Yder."
Before Ryder could respond, she threw her arms around his neck and said,
"I wuv it."

Ryder heard Jenny gasp when he reached his arm
around his little girl lifting her to his heart and hugging her tightly.
"Oh, my sweet baby, you bring back so many memories." Choking on a
sob, he quickly handed Joy back to Jenny and hurried from the cottage. Striding
away from the buildings and into the twilight, he sought time alone to relive
memories of other children.

* * *

Jenny tucked Joy into bed and bent to kiss her
goodnight. Ryder's expression while hugging their child was forever etched into
her memory. Curling into a ball in her own bed, she muffled sobs with her
pillow.
What right do I have to keep Ryder from his child?

 The day after Ryder's visit with Joy, Jenny
again sought him out. She found him just as he was about to ride out with the
other hands. He waved them on, saying he'd catch up.

Ryder gazed at her from atop his horse.
"Thank you for letting me meet Joy."

 "If…If you want to spend time with her,
I'll not stop you."

He gave her a grateful smile.

"The best times would be mornings around
nine or evenings after five."

"I'll come this evening."

Jenny nodded, stepped away from his horse, and
walked swiftly back to her cottage before she started crying again. One night
of tears was all she could handle.

Over the next two weeks Ryder visited daily,
sometimes twice a day. Joy came to expect his visits and would run to the door
when there was a knock. "Yder here, Mama."

During one of his morning visits, while Jenny
allowed them privacy by sweeping her kitchen, he walked to the doorway with Joy
on his shoulders. She glanced at her daughter's happy expression.

"Yder fun," Joy exclaimed.

Jenny couldn't stop her chuckle.

"It's good to hear you laugh, Jenny,"
said Ryder.

Not wanting to respond, she went back to
sweeping.

Ryder continued, "Would you come somewhere
with me today?"

Startled, she lifted her head. "Ryder, just
because you visit Joy doesn't change anything between us."

"I understand. But there's something I want
to show you."

Joy bent her head to Ryder's ear. "I go,
Yder."

Ryder laughed loudly. "Next time,
sweetheart; I promise." He shifted his attention back to Jenny. "What
do you say?"

"How far are we going?"

"Not far."

Jenny made an exasperated sound. "Now
that's an evasive answer."

Ryder shrugged and the lifting of his shoulders
delighted Joy.

When he refused to let the matter drop, Jenny
agreed to give him an hour of her time. After she got Joy settled with Angel at
the main house, she met Ryder at the front porch where he waited with the
buckboard. She wondered what was under the tarp in the wagon's bed. He jumped
down to help her onto the seat and then walked back around the wagon to pull
himself up. With the efficiency of one hand, gained no doubt from much
practice, he guided the horses toward nearby hills. When he halted the
buckboard near her special place, she gasped. "Why are we here?"

"I found this lovely spot that overlooks
your brother's ranch and I wanted to share it with you."

"I've been here before; you can take me
back now."

"Not so fast, Jenny."

Ryder hopped off the buckboard and came around
to help her down, but she shook her head. "I don't need to see the
view."

"It's where you painted yourself pregnant
and in your bonnet, isn't it? It's also where you painted me staring at the
moon. Those paintings are how I discovered we had a child."

Jenny's eyes rounded and she gasped, "Where
did you see them?"

Ryder stared up at her. "I was asked by a
friend to critique two paintings he had purchased in Ft. Worth. He said he
thought the paintings were superb, but he wanted my expert opinion."

Jenny smirked, "And I'm sure you told him
they were painted by a talented artist, but not gifted."

Ryder never removed his eyes from hers. "I
told him they were magnificent, the paintings of a gifted master."

Jenny jerked her head away from his gaze.

Ryder walked to the back of the buckboard and
Jenny heard him removing the tarp. She turned to see him unloading two easels. Paint
supplies were packed into a crate with two blank canvases beside it.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she
exclaimed.

"We're going to continue the art lesson we
never finished."

"You're out of your mind. I'm not going to
do any such thing."

Ryder ignored her and lifted both easels with
his one arm and walked away from the wagon and up a rise. At the top he opened
the easels. When he returned for the canvases and paints, Jenny sat immovable.

Ignoring her, he carried the rest of the items
up the incline. Jenny's anger mounted as she watched. When he started back
toward her, she ground her teeth, and when he reached the buckboard and lifted
his hand to assist her down, she stared straight ahead.

"Ryder, I am not going to paint!"

"Then you'll be sitting on this wagon for a
long time because I'm not returning to the ranch until you hear me out.
Besides, aren’t you curious to learn the next lesson in your training?"

"No. Your lessons only hurt me," she
softly replied.

Ryder didn't respond, but neither did he make a
move to leave.

Finally, unable to resist, she glanced down.
When their eyes met, he said, "You'll never know how sorry I am for past
mistakes. Please forgive me."

Quickly looking away again, she said, "If I
allow this, will you promise to forget I ever asked for lessons?"

"No."

Jenny played with the ribbons of her bonnet and
stared into the distance. Ryder never moved. In exasperation, she turned and
reached her hand toward him. "I'm only doing this because I want to return
home as soon as possible."

Ryder barely smiled, and instead of taking her
hand, he reached and encircled her waist, pulling her forward. She had to place
her hands on his shoulders while he helped her to the ground. Her body slid the
length of his and she jumped away as soon as her feet touched the earth. Ryder
simply turned and led the way uphill.

Berating herself for feeling anything but
loathing for Ryder, she followed him until he stopped beside the easels.

"Look, Jenny." He waved his one arm to
encompass the vista.

Jenny scanned the view and forgot her irritation
for a moment. She hadn't returned to this area since painting the pictures
Ryder had seen. For just an instant, while gazing across the panorama, she felt
the same thrill as during her girlhood when confronted with the challenge of
painting nature in all its glory. The thrill faded and she turned to see Ryder
watching her.

"Okay, Ryder. Make this the final lesson so
we can be done with this nonsense forever."

Ryder cocked his head, studying her.

Jenny returned his stare feeling uncomfortable
under his scrutiny. He saw too much. She looked back across the valley to her
brother's ranch. Wanting to take Ryder's attention off of her, she said,
"My brother talked for years about building his own ranch, and now he's
done it. Although, I think if he hadn't married Angel, he probably wouldn't
have settled down for a few more years; Angel is his perfect counterpart."

Jenny chanced another glance at Ryder. His gaze
remained locked on her face. Searching for anything to break his concentration,
she continued, "Would you like to know how my brother became so rich?
Certainly not from cattle ranching."

"Only if you want to tell me," Ryder
replied softly.

Jenny began to perspire and her heart pounded.
She wanted to scream,
Ryder, stop looking at me like that.
Instead, she
said, "My brother is the famous newspaper adventure series writer, Dawson
Jeffries. He wrote his first story at the age of fourteen and entered it in a
contest that he won. Things just escalated from there. Of course, none of that
would have come about if my stepmother hadn't pushed him to enter." She
looked at Ryder again.

Still speaking softly, he said, "You have a
wonderful family, Jenny."

Jenny had the feeling he wanted to say more, but
he didn't. She was relieved when he turned his attention to his canvas.

Picking up a tube of paint, he squeezed it onto
the palette he had placed on the upside down crate. He opened and dabbed two
more colors with the first, swirling them together. Jenny reasoned he was
creating the color of the sky. Lifting his brush he began stroking the blue he
had just created.

Glancing at Jenny with a tiny smile, he said,
"Continuing your lesson—create colors of light from beautiful
memories." He deftly stroked the blue across the canvas. "Would you
like to know my memory for this color?"

When she didn't respond, he glanced at her
again. "It's the color of your eyes."

Jenny gasped.

Ryder picked up another brush and began mixing
browns. When he lifted the brush to the canvas and began outlining trees, he
said, "This is the color of your hair."

Jenny wanted to run, but her feet would not
obey. Ryder mixed more paints, each color corresponding to something about her,
and with each stroke, she felt as if she herself were being painted. The
sensuous movement of his hand recalled forbidden memories. He brushed pink
flowers onto distant hills. "This is the color of your cheeks when you
blush."

Finally, unable to bear the sweet torment, she
cried, "You're painting the light. Where's the darkness, Ryder? You taught
that I must temper light with darkness."

Ryder picked up his brush with the brown paint
and began wiping it off. "Watch," he said. He then reached for the
tube of black and mixed other colors with it.

Staring at her, he said, "This is my
darkness since I sent you away." He began painting storm clouds.

Tortured by his words, Jenny lifted her skirt
and ran toward the wagon. Taking deep breaths she calmed herself by petting the
horses and talking to them. Shortly thereafter, Ryder returned and began
reloading his supplies.

Jenny walked to the buckboard and grabbed the
handle to haul herself up. She felt Ryder's hand on her hip, helping her. When
she was settled in her seat and he didn't move away, she glanced down. The
intensity with which he had studied her earlier remained.

He said, "So now you know my secret—how I
paint light and darkness together. My colors have nothing to do with what I'm
looking at. Every painting is part of me, a vision from my past. Every painting
is fashioned within my spirit."