Buy a Cowboy (13 page)

She walked back into the house and stood at the kitchen counter, gripping it with white knuckles. Now that she'd married him and they were living here on the ranch, she was frightened. All of the problems and concerns she had ignored at the thought of buying a cowboy now washed over her in a tidal wave. What had she expected?

She probably thought he'd be out working or camping in the wilds like all the westerns she had seen on TV. He would kiss everyone goodbye and be gone all the time. But he was here all of the time. And she wanted him here all the time.

The tall rugged length of him ranged in and out of her peripheral vision all day long and played mental havoc with her senses.

The kids followed him, helping when he asked, horsing around when he was doing a solitary job. Between feeding and tending the animals, fixing a broken fence or tool, and mucking out the stalls, he would pick up Hope and swing her in the air.

Daniel got his hair tousled with a big hand, and occasionally, a quick piggyback ride. Her son chattered at him constantly, and Baya had yet to snap at him.

Faith and Baya would put their heads close together, especially when around the horses. Faith gestured out across the valley, and Baya took her hand and pointed it in the distance at whatever they were discussing.

The night before, Baya had patiently explained to Daniel that the old mare and her foal had been chased off by the rest of the herd, which accounted for their appearance. “It's the way nature keeps the herd strong, part of the survival of the fittest plan that nature adheres to. The mare is too old and the colt is too weak to keep up with the herd.”

The kids had listened, wide-eyed.

Bonnie glanced over to the fenced lot.

Half asleep, the mare stood patiently as the colt butted his head against her while nursing.

Faith was in the pasture that morning, brushing the old mare and gently handling the colt.

Daniel had sat on the fence watching, while Hope squatted on the ground looking at something that had caught her interest. They were making pets of the tired, old horse and her scrawny foal.

Baya hadn't said any more about getting rid of either animal.

Baya. She sighed at the turmoil he created in her, while wondering when this had happened. She was afraid she knew the answer: it had started the moment she saw him.

She closed her eyes and the memory of the first moment they had seen each other across the diner flashed before her. His eyes so dark, so lonely, turning to pleased surprise as Dick introduced them.

For half a moment, her breath had held itself, hovering outside her body before she whispered his name. She'd recovered quickly, once she realized he was injured and needed to sit down. Yet, her heart thundered blood through her veins like an electric current, and she couldn't maintain eye contact for more than a few moments at a time.

She drew in a deep breath and looked out over the valley searching for him. Why had he agreed to this marriage? He'd said he never wanted to share his life with a woman. The answer was around her; he wanted the valley. Did that include being nice to her children?

Of course, she had made it plain that was a priority in her request. But he was so tolerant. She thought that maybe he felt something for them. He treated Faith with the respect of an equal. He listened and instructed, nurturing and guiding Daniel patiently. He spoiled Hope, carrying her on his shoulders when she could walk just as well.

Then there were the times he grew tense and hard. His face looked as if it was carved from teakwood, his eyes so dark they were unreadable.

She wasn't sure how to react to him—his silence, the orders he flung out that her children obeyed without question. She realized she resented it somewhat.

Her conscience spoke, reminding her that she wanted someone to help, but her belligerence groused that she hadn't wanted him to take over her family. Partnership. The word sprang into her mind. It was what she had told him she wanted.

The day at the creek when Daniel had reminded her that she had failed as a wife once before still upset her.

Perhaps she was the one incapable of creating a partnership. Maybe Baya was trying to tell her that with that searing kiss. She was afraid of the intimacy the kiss requested. She was afraid—that was the bottom line. Fear was holding her away from him. It kept her from making more that fleeting eye contact with him, and kept her sealed away inside the safety of the house instead of out on the mountain with him.

She walked through the house; the newly painted walls were clean and fresh. Come winter, she would decorate it and add all the little touches that would make it a home. Right now, she needed to work on making a family.

~*~

Baya found Bonnie standing at the sink holding her face in her hands.
I made her cry
. He moved closer and she turned startled eyes to him.

There were no tears on her face.

They stared at each other for several moments, her cheeks warm with color.

“I—”

“What—”

They began at the same time.

She nodded for him to go ahead.

“I've come to tell you I need to go to town.” Baya kept his voice neutral.

“Oh.” The blush on her face grew rosier. “I'd like to go also, if it is possible.” Her voice was low, almost husky.

“I'd like that.” Baya smiled gently at her. “We could take the children out to eat. There's a nice restaurant where we could sit down and be waited on for a change. How long before you can be ready?”

“A half hour?” She glanced up at him.

His heart rate picked up. Baya stepped forward and pulled her against him. He stared down at her, recognized some of the questions that raced over her expressive face. Slowly he bent his head and kissed her gently, allowing his emotions to grow into passion. When he stepped back, he had to disengage her hands from around his neck. A sigh found its way from the depths of his being and wafted against her hair. “Bonnie?” He couldn't put words around the question his heart breathed into her name.

She stepped back her cheeks warm, gaze shy. “I—I'll have everyone ready in half an hour.”

Baya let his hands release her slowly, unsure how to put in words the question they skirted. He turned and walked out of the kitchen, pausing to look back as he heard her plea.

“
Guide me. Guide me.”
She was praying.

Disappointment that the words were for God, not him, sent him hurrying away.

9

Baya stood at the bar and held a long neck bottle. The television overhead let him view the rodeo in Abilene without sound. He watched the twisting bucking bulls, but it just wasn't the same without the noise and smells he was so familiar with.

Someone had put music in the jukebox and a rowdy country western tune combined with laughter and conversation. He had a nodding acquaintance with some of the men around him. He had seen them at the feed store, the hardware store, and the moving sale when he bought the tractor.

Still, he sat wrapped in remoteness caused by the out of sync music and violent movement of the bulls. Frowning at the bottle of beer, he felt disgruntled that the taste wasn't as good as he remembered. Dang! He had been sober too long.

He looked up as the next bull tore out of the chute. His mouth moved, shouting silent instructions to the cowboy up top. It didn't do the boy any more good than it had him.

Ready Up flung him away like a gunnysack, and then turned to maim him. This time the rodeo clown actually distracted the giant brindle bull.

Baya turned away from the screen and looked around the smoky room.

A band was setting up on the tiny stage. Later tonight, things would get rowdy, but for now, the atmosphere was friendly and warm. He sighed as nostalgia for the road swept over him, and then shook his head. For some reason, that life no longer appealed.

He was a rancher now and he was becoming quite attached to the trio of children who followed him everywhere. Truth be told, he enjoyed being around them. Hope. Just the name made an indention in his heart, and he turned back to lean on the bar. He thought of the day he had recognized her silent rebellion over the little pinto. The memory of her slipping from Bonnie's arms to nestle against him during the trip down the mountain poured warmth into him.

And then there were Faith and Daniel. Faith was smart as a whip and caught on fast to anything he taught her, eager to help him with anything. Daniel was smart, but he liked to have fun, too, which added an element of excitement to their days outside.

And the ranch. He loved the ranch, no holds barred. The valley as it looked from the roadway sprang to mind. The beauty of the aspens in the hollow of the great granite mountains was imprinted on his brain.

But Bonnie was another matter all together. What possessed him to think this would work? Aw, heck! He tilted the bottle to finish the dregs. He had just gotten another cold one from the bartender when the atmosphere in the bar changed.

Every ranch worker in the joint was staring at the door.

Without turning, he knew what they were staring at. Pivoting, with his hip still leaning on the bar, he looked at his family.

Bonnie held Hope on one jutting hip.

Beside her, Daniel gripped the pocket of the cotton dress she wore. That bright blue gaze took in the bar and grill.

Standing stiffly beside her mother, Faith lifted her chin. A flash of silver gray glared haughtily back at the staring ranch hands. Then she saw him. Her chin lowered and the little red mouth quivered as she turned to him, open relief washing over her.

He looked into each little face and watched the tension in each dissolve into quiet trusting smiles. His heart ached with affection for them; they belonged to him. Glancing at Bonnie's face, he realized this was probably the first time any of them had been inside a bar.

Bonnie was staring rigidly at the occupants of the place. She threw a disapproving glance at the bartender and glared at Baya.

Embarrassment eased up the back of his neck and walked toward them.

Hope scrambled out of her mother's hold and ran to him, her hands reaching up.

He put the beer down on a table and picked her up to kiss her soundly on a pink cheek.

Bonnie turned to disengage Daniel's fingers from her pocket and a low wolf whistle sounded from the depths of the bar.

Baya frowned, but didn't turn away from the view of her back. He had felt just as appreciative when he had caught a glimpse of her in the pale lavender dress with the crisscrossed bare back.

“The restaurant is attached to the side of the bar, Bonnie. It's a little more family oriented. We can get a grill in here if you want or spring for a full-fledged meal next door.”

She looked around the room.

Several of the men had left their tables to lean against the bar and talk to the bartender.

“I don't want to eat in here,” she hissed. “I feel like I'm being stared at.”

His eyes glinted with amusement. “This ain't Florida, ma'am, and the likes of that dress ain't never been seen this far west,” he drawled with exaggerated country flavor.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It's comfortable.”

“Yes'm.” His grin
couldn't be checked. He took a swig of beer before walking it to the bar and setting it down long enough to pay the tab.

One of the cowboys nudged him. “That yours?”

He looked down into light brown eyes. “Yep.”

“That's some looker.”

“Yep.”

“Are ya gonna introduce us?”

“Nope.” Picking up the bottle, he walked back to Bonnie. As he turned her toward the door, he slipped his hand around her waist and covered as much of her bare back as possible.

Another whistle started long and low, but this time Baya turned and frowned. The whistle died a premature death. Baya gave the entire population of the bar another hard look. They got the message.

~*~

They settled the children at the table outside on the deck and ordered milk for each.

Bonnie had tea, and Baya settled for his fresh beer.

With the discussion of the entrees and arguments on who wanted what, fifteen minutes had lapsed before their orders were taken.

The restaurant was built overlooking a creek and the children wanted to go explore it.

“I want to see if there are alligators,” Daniel said.

“There are no gators in Wyoming.” Faith informed him haughtily

“One might have moved here, just like we did.” He replied. With that astounding reasoning, he got up and walked down the wooden dock.

“That's stupid, animals don't pack up and move away like people do,” Faith's tone was disgusted.

He didn't seem to mind her point of view; he just rolled his eyes
.

As if sensing that a really exciting argument might be stirring, Hope jumped from her chair and followed the two older kids.

Bonnie watched them go.

“I like the dress.”

Startled she looked at him, down at her dress and back to him.

He raised his eyebrows. “I just think maybe the bar wasn't the place to wear it. The crew inside was lubricated enough to appreciate it to the max.”

“If I'd known what kind of a place we had arranged to meet in, I wouldn't have agreed to it. What were you doing there?”

“Bonnie, it is a place where men meet. People do business there. Other ranchers come in to unwind and discuss breeding, betting, and bedding.”

“It's a bar!” She used the word as though it were a curse.

“Yes. Saloons have been the meeting places of the west, since before it was tamed. What did you think? That I would be getting drunk and disorderly on you?”

She looked out to where the children were peering over the edge of the dock. “I guess I didn't think about you being familiar with places like that,” she muttered.

“I told you the first day I met you that Dick found me in a bar. Bars, to a traveling man, are the only ‘home' they know. Bars are the same the world over. You'll find the same drunks, the same braggarts, the same people, they just wear different skins.”