Wildblossom (22 page)

What of soul was left, I wonder,

when the kissing had to stop?

~ Robert Browning

Chapter 11

The return of Ben, Titus, and Jimmy brought work back to the forefront of ranch life. The first roundup, which should have started a week ago, commenced immediately.

Spring would no longer be denied, and when Geoff rode his buckskin stallion over the ranch at dawn, he was enchanted by his surroundings. Birds had returned for the summer, and the thickets were crowded with them. Meanwhile, the skylark and white-shouldered lark bunting sang while soaring overhead against the rosy sky. Shelby could identify these and other calls Geoff had never heard before, and sometimes he rode with her so that she could teach him to separate the songs of the bluebird, the mountain chickadee, the sage thrasher, and the raucous pinyon jay.

More often, though, there was too much work to indulge in such pleasures. Geoff could only try to soak up the beauty of the sunrise, the staggering silhouette of the mountains behind the river, the prairie roses carpeting the ranchland, and the heady mixture of fragrances carried on the breeze. Always, in the back of his mind, was the realization that it couldn't last. When next year's spring unfolded in Wyoming, the Marquess of Sandhurst would be back in England, doing his duty.

The roundup would last perhaps a month. If they had more cattle, it would take six weeks, but then again, they were new at this business, and every steer they owned had to be searched out of the hillocks and coulees and thickets, then branded against its will. Jimmy, Cal, Marsh, and Lucius knew more about this procedure than their employers, and Geoff was the first to acknowledge it. With Cal's advice, he signed on a few more hands to get them through the roundup. Then, on a whim, he brought a cook—who inventively called himself Cookie—out to to help with meals so that Shelby could do what she loved best: chase cattle all over the ranch and beyond. These were generous indulgences that further softened Ben Avery's heart toward the Englishman.

All this activity helped to keep Geoff and Shelby from dealing with each other—and the consequences of their night of passion. They all rode and roped until they cared only about a hot meal and a bed, with little or no energy remaining for emotions. However, even if the roundup hadn't intervened, Geoff had been permanently unsettled by the arrival of Lady Clem's letter. It was like a thorn, sticking his mind and his heart. The letter—and the memory of Shelby's expression as she watched him accept it just hours after their lovemaking—made him realize that it was no use pretending that his other life didn't exist.

On the contrary, it seemed to be shadowing him. Geoff spent a lot of time pondering this bristly situation while hunting down strays at the base of the mountains. He felt certain that Clemmie hadn't meant any harm, sending that letter to him here. However, his mother might have guessed that he was communing with more than horses in Wyoming. The Duchess of Aylesbury never did anything by chance, and her suggestion to her son's fiancée that she write had not been made on a whim.

That sort of long-distance interference was particularly annoying. The discreet machinations practiced by people like his parents was one of the reasons Geoff had begun to chafe against the constraints of his life in London. Couldn't he escape even in Wyoming's Bighorn Basin?

Or was Lady Clem's letter gnawing at him for a different reason? As he chased down a rebellious steer and prepared to throw the noose of his lasso over the animal's horns, Geoff reflected that the basis for his ill humor might well be guilt. Was it fair to blame Clementine or his mother, when he was the one who had made love to Shelby? He was a cad to have drawn so close to her without telling her the truth.

It was true that he had escaped from England to this world where being the Marquess of Sandhurst didn't matter, but this was Shelby's real life. He'd made her a part of his escape, and when he returned to reality she could end with her heart dashed.

And indeed, when he headed back to the barn at midday with the two steers he'd turned up, Geoff saw Shelby straddling the corral fence, staring at him as he approached. He had to shade his eyes against her radiance, but there wasn't a way to shade his heart.

Throwing herself into the exciting, strenuous work of the roundup, Shelby had cast off her split skirts and high-necked blouses and now charged out of the house each dawn clad in denim pants, boots, and a shirt made of either a plain cotton or flannel, tucked in. These garments fit her in a way that made Geoff badly want to hold her; to run his hands over the curves of her hips and bottom and breasts and the length of her back. Some days, when she was working in the corral, Shelby even wore leather bat-wing chaps, and they looked terrific buckled around her pretty hips. The blue bandanna around her neck set off her teal eyes and sun-pinkened cheeks. Her fair skin would have been burned if not for the protective brim of her white Stetson, and she'd taken to braiding her hair into one thick plait that emerged from the back of her hat, hung down her back, and flicked to and fro when she moved.

In short, Shelby was more beguiling than ever. And she had changed, though Geoff would have preferred to deny it. Depending upon the moment, when she looked at him, Geoff was liable to glimpse either vulnerability or defiance in her eyes. The rest of the time, Shelby's guard was up, and she joked with him as easily as she did the other men. Her attitude said, I'm fime, don't worry about me—no regrets.

As Geoff rode closer to the corral, he realized that he not only couldn't forget what they had shared, he didn't want to. He was hungry for her still, and those yearnings brought more guilt.

"Hey!" Shelby called, flashing her broadest smile. "You're back just in time to help plant the first rows of crops! Ben wants to start the hay and grain after we eat. Now that summer's coming, we decided that we can't afford to wait until roundup's over."

Geoff pushed back his hat, swabbed his brow with a black kerchief, and replied wryly, "God forbid we should have any leisure time."

"What would we do with it, anyway?" Shelby willed herself not to blush. "A person can play records like 'My Bonnie' and 'Listen to the Mockingbird' just so many times."

"I imagine you're bored with dancing, since all the men want to practice with you. Evenings, I half expect to find Manypenny in line behind Titus and Ben and all the boys." He couldn't stop himself from adding, "I suppose that the novelty of dancing must be wearing off."

"No." Shelby raised her chin in the manner of a child fighting back tears. "I thought you were the one who had grown bored with dancing. You watch the rest of us as if we're quite bourgeois."

Charlie nickered to her and stepped forward to nuzzle her hand. Geoff wanted to reach out himself now that his horse had brought him within touching distance, but he saw a warning gleam in her eyes. Just then, Cookie came out on the veranda and rang a big bell to summon everyone into the house for noon dinner.

"Good!" Shelby's relief was visible as she jumped to the ground. "I'm starving!" After a pause to stroke Charlie's face and kiss his big horsey mouth, she ran toward the house without another word to Geoff.

He wished he could call to her and laugh, saying that she became more of a scamp with each passing day. Those times were over, though, and he blamed himself for spoiling their friendship.

* * *

June rolled in on a wave of sunshine, and the men began building a second barn. Not only did they need it for their added horses and cattle, but also to house the new farm equipment, and eventually to store the supplemental feed crops when they were harvested.

It was an exciting time. Their first spring roundup was finished off with the branding of the calves born in the past few weeks. The Sunshine Ranch was growing; thriving in spite of the fact that Shelby had lost half of it to an Englishman.

She had decided that God had brought them all this activity for a reason. The physical work and the excitement of making something new brought Shelby happiness at a time when she would have otherwise been very blue. Putting on pants and rolling up her sleeves every morning, then sweating during the day, gave her a lot of pleasure and kept her from thinking constantly about Geoff and her heartache. There was nothing she could do to change what was real: his title, his life in England, and his wedding, which was being planned by Lady Clementine Beech at that very moment.

Shelby also turned her thoughts to Vivian Croll, particularly when Ben brought home some stray mongrel puppies he'd found on the road to Cody. Who better to adopt one of the orphans than a lonely mail-order bride?

One Thursday afternoon, she tucked the curly gray pup into a carpet bag, attached it to her saddle, and waited on the road until she saw Bart ride off to his poker game in town. Reaching the pitiful sod house, Shelby found Vivian planting flower seeds in newly turned earth by the door. When she heard her visitor ride up, the girl got to her feet and wiped her hands on a threadbare apron.

"Miss Matthews! What a surprise!"

Shelby dismounted, untied the carpet bag, and dared to give Vivian a momentary hug. "I've been wanting to come for days. I get terribly lonely with all those men at the ranch, and I hope that you and I can be friends."

"I don't think Bart wants me to entertain." She looked down.

"We'll find ways around that," Shelby assured her. "Even today, I knew he was going out and I just waited. I'm pretty crafty when the need arises!" Trying to think of something cheerful to say about the dusty, depressing house, she pointed to the new garden. "What kinds of flowers are you planting?"

"Just some wildflower seeds Mr. Schwoob gave me. Bart wouldn't like me wasting my time on something so silly, when there are more chores to do than I can finish in a lifetime."

The more Shelby heard about the awful Mr. Croll, the more upset she felt, but what could be done? For the moment, all Shelby could offer was her friendship. They went inside, where Vivian poured weak tea for her guest and showed her the tablecloth she embroidered whenever Bart was away. Nearby, a basket overflowed with mending that must have been saved up during all of Croll's bachelorhood.

"I allow myself a few minutes' work on the tablecloth for every sock or handkerchief I patch," Viv explained.

"I know I don't have any right to comment on your life or marriage, but... don't you think he's being a bit hard on you?"

Her eyes pooled with tears and she looked away again. "There's nothing I can do."

"Well, you have a friend now—me!" A warm smile lit her face as she reached into the carpet bag." And I've brought you a present."

Vivian began to weep with joy when Shelby put the puppy into her arms. He wriggled and licked her hands, then her face, while Shelby explained his origins.

"We have no way of knowing what sort of dog he is, but Uncle Ben guesses he won't grow terribly large." She laughed, adding, "This seems to be a case of love at first sight!"

"Oh, Shelby, no one has ever brought me such a wonderful gift! He is the sweetest thing ever! I shall call him Willy, after my little brother who died." Cuddling the puppy closer, she crooned, "Willy-boy, do you love me? I think so! And I love you!"

Tears stung Shelby's own eyes. "I'd better get back now. At least, I don't have to worry that you'll be lonely anymore."

In the doorway, Willy in her arms, Vivian bit her lip and turned pale again. "I just hope that Bart lets me keep him...."

"He'd better! If he is that cruel, I want you to bring Willy to me, and stay yourself!" Her eyes met those of her friend. "We women have to stick together out here. I know we don't know each other well, but I think some people are meant to be friends. If you need me you must let me know."

"That's kind of you, but my first loyalty is to Bart."

"But, if he isn't kind to you—" There was so much about this situation that Shelby simply couldn't fathom, and she had to struggle not to be impatient.

Viv glanced away. "I'm his wife."

At least, as she rode home, Shelby could console herself with the knowledge that Willy would bring some affection and pleasure into Viv's barren life. Besides, who was she to judge anyone for settling for crumbs, or living with heartache? She was hardly a paragon herself.

As always, her thoughts returned to Geoff and the feelings that continued to percolate inside her. She tried not to give them a name, and thankfully was so bone-tired again that night that she didn't lie awake pondering the mystery of the human heart.