Rocky Mountain Cowboy (3 page)

Through the black net that dipped over her eyes, she regarded him covertly. Attired in a well-tailored three-piece black suit and crisply ironed white shirt and maroon tie, he was still sinfully handsome. Broad shouldered, narrow waisted, and long legged, he moved with the loose-limbed rolling gait of a true cowboy. His hair was jet black, trimmed to sweep over his ears, and long enough in the back to curl over his collar.

His Native American heritage lent his skin a natural copper color, bronzed darker from working outdoors all day. His dark complexion set off a white-toothed smile, on the rare occasions that she’d seen it, and a pair of electric blue eyes that were the color of a Colorado columbine, shadowed now by a black felt Stetson. Framed by thick black lashes, those eyes were the first thing that had caught her attention when he had walked into her bedroom earlier. Despite her grief, she supposed she would have to be dead to ignore
what an attractive man he was.

Her thoughts returned to the gravesite service just as the prayers and the blessings were finished. The priest walked up to her. She extended a black gloved hand to thank him, and he reached for both her hands compassionately, offering a few more words of comfort, before stepping over to talk to Hawk.

While the two exchanged words, Jenny approached her father’s casket. It was so highly polished, she could see her reflection in it.

Her mind wandered back to the day she’d always viewed as the worst of her life
. All those years ago…. The memories had dimmed somewhat, but they were still so much a part of her, always too close….

Her dad
had been a man devoted to his small family and his fledgling cattle ranch. It hadn’t been enough for his young wife, though. Not long after Jenny’s twelfth birthday, Mary Fletcher announced that she had filed for divorce. It had been a shock, but maybe not a surprise. Both Jenny and Tom knew Mary was not happy being a rancher’s wife. Though neither of them had expected the devastatingly cruel blow she inflicted on them in the process. With the help of her wealthy father, she had sued for and won sole custody of their only child.

Separating father and daughter was the cruelest thing her mother could have done, and Jenny had always believed that was exactly why Mary had done it— because it punished Tom for not giving her the life she had expected.

Mary had come from money, and expected to live her life surrounded by abundance. Why she had ever thought Tom Fletcher could provide that was beyond Jenny’s understanding. In the twelve years Mary had lived with Tom, Jenny had never seen a great deal of love or even affection expressed by Mary toward her husband or even her daughter. Tom’s struggles to establish his ranch had never reached Mary’s financial expectations, and her daughter was a nuisance. Mary spent more time back East with her wealthy family than she did on her husband’s remote mountain ranch. As a result, Jenny had never been close to her mother. There had been no bonds established between them.

And
Jenny’s maternal grandfather had been undermining his daughter’s marriage from the beginning. Samuel Cameron visited frequently, and he always brought expensive gifts for his only grandchild. Jenny hadn’t liked him from their first meeting. Like Mary, he had a cold, manipulative manner about him. He resented Tom, sneered at his small-time business efforts, and visited simply to cause trouble.

In
the end, Tom had never stood a chance against Cameron’s money and influence. His fight for custody of his daughter had been swiftly and ruthlessly stopped. He hadn’t even been able to win visitation rights.

The legal blow was heartbreaking for Tom, and it nearly destroyed Jenny. The pain of her last day with her father was still etched in her memory as if it had happened yesterday.

They had gone to their favorite fishing hole to be alone, granted that final indulgence by the two waiting for them at the house. Jenny could still see Tom’s midnight blue eyes gazing down at her. His handsome face had been filled with the Herculean effort to hold back the oceans of pain behind those eyes. Sitting against a big tree by the stream, with his arm curled around her and his long legs stretched out before him, he had spoken quietly to her, attempting to soothe the tearful, pleading protests she made.

She remembered thinking how small her hand had looked in his big work-roughened one. “I could run away, Daddy,” she had sobbed. “You could hide me. Tell Mary you can’t find me.” Her plea had been a desperate one.

“I don’t want you to do that, sweetheart,” Tom had replied, kissing the top of her dark head. “Never, ever run away. Something awful could happen to you, and it would break my heart.”

“But something awful has already happened!”

“Yes, it has,” Tom had agreed sadly. “But you must promise me that you will remember how much I love you. You will always be the most important thing in my life. No matter how far away you are or how long we are apart, I will always love you and be waiting here for you to come home someday. Mary can take you from me, but she can’t keep you from me forever. Someday, when you’re all grown up, we’ll be together again. I promise you that, Jennifer Michelle.”

Then Tom had pulled her into his strong arms and rocked her for a long, long time.

For as long as she lived, Jenny would never forget that final farewell. She had cried the whole time. Nothing her father said had eased the pain and helplessness she felt at being taken away from him. During the years afterward, when she got so lonely she thought she’d die, the knowledge of his love kept her going. It was like an eternally lit candle in a window.

And she never forgave her mother for shattering her life. They lived at the Cameron family estate, where Mary threw herself into partying and spending. Within months of arriving, Jenny was sent away to boarding school in Europe.

Her mother barely knew she was around, and her grandfather thought Europe would be far enough away so that she wouldn’t try to run away. He didn’t know that they need not have gone that far to keep her from her father. She had promised Tom she would never run away, and she always kept her promises to her beloved father. And, actually, boarding school ended up being more tolerable than living with her mother and grandfather.

Her
mother had died several years ago, and her grandfather had followed her to the grave two years afterwards. Jenny had come to hate them both after they had separated her from her father, but her hatred had eased over the years into simply a deep regret.

After Mary’s death,
Samuel Cameron had tried to win his granddaughter’s loyalty and affection with with more money and gifts. But the only thing she ever accepted from him was the college education he had paid for, and that was because Tom had begged her to accept it. He’d wanted her to have the higher education he couldn’t afford for her, and because of her mother’s money, there was no way to qualify for financial aid.

She’d finally, begrudgingly relented simply to please her father. But it had been a bitter, bitter concession to make. All she wanted, all she’d ever dreamed about was coming home to work side by side with her dad like she’d done as a girl. But Tom had wanted a good education for her, and she’d never been able to deny her father a thing.

So, after graduating from one of the several boarding schools she’d attended and been booted out of for rebellious conduct, she went to the University of Southern California Art and Design School, where she studied fashion design. The contacts she’d made there led her to the movie industry.

Designing costumes for films had
eventually replaced the dream she’d once had of returning home and helping her father with his ranch. Success and time had changed her goals, but maybe not her truest and deepest ambition.

She’d come to accept her altered course in life. She liked her job and the people she worked with, and she had received an
excellent education, which she had put to good use. Tom had been enormously proud of her, and she had been reunited with her father, just not in the way she had always dreamed of. She had paid a high price for her success, though, and if she had been able to alter her life all those years ago, she was certain that she would have been much happier for it. Tom might still be alive, too.

Tears welled in her eyes as she slowly emerged from the pain of the past to the pain of the present. Leaning on stiffened arms, she flattened her gloved hands on the cold hard surface of the casket, and dropped her head. Tears splattered onto the shiny black surface as fresh waves of pain assaulted her. She wanted to drape herself over the casket and cry her heart out. She wanted to be with her father!

“Oh Daddy, how can I say good-bye?” she murmured in a broken whisper.

S
omeone’s large hands on her shoulders gently lifted her and turned her away from the casket. She looked up as Mr. Larson offered her his handkerchief. She just stared blankly at his chest, and he had to brush her tears away himself. She couldn’t make her brain tell her hands to do anything. She wanted to collapse into his arms.

Their eyes met, and there was a moment of complete understanding between them. There was no need to voice what they felt. Draping an arm around her shoulders, Hawk
steered her toward the street where his newer model Dodge truck was parked.

Unfortunately, there was no escaping the gauntlet of mourners waiting to express their sympathy.

She let Hawk make the
thank you
s and accept the condolences, grateful that they were brief and that she could partially hide behind the netting of her hat. The support and strength he’d offered throughout the service was an unexpected comfort. Without it, she wouldn’t have made it through the day.

They
got as far as the edge of the cemetery lawn when Peter Mason stopped them. Jenny had brought him along in the hope
his
presence would be a comfort. So far, he’d failed to offer her much. He seemed to think they had come here for a vacation, not to bury her father. Tom had never been too thrilled about her relationship with Peter, and she was beginning to understand why. He was decidedly self-absorbed. Professionally, they’d always been of the same mind, but personally, they had failed to emotionally connect with one another. Jenny supposed she should have realized Peter’s shoulder was not one to cry upon.

At the moment, she was irritated that he was going to delay their departure. She had held it together for three hours, but she couldn’t do it much longer. Peter appeared determined, though, to introduce her to the man and woman with him. Beside her, she felt Mr. Larson’s body stiffen noticeably.

“Jenny, this is Brad and Cindy Caldwell,” Peter announced eagerly. “They own the ranch next door to yours. They’re your neighbors.”

The black clad arm around her shoulders fell to her waist and tightened. The very clearly communicated tension radiating through the man beside her told her that he was not
happy about this interruption.

Brad Caldwell was in his
mid-thirties, nearly as tall as Hawk and attractive. His dark blond hair was precisely cut and styled, and he wore an expensive three piece gray suit and very fancy gray boots. His dark blue eyes missed nothing. The smile he bestowed on her oozed charm and male appreciation. No doubt, this man got a lot of mileage out of his polished manners and million dollar smile.

He took her hand and offered condolences in a smooth baritone. “Tom was a good neighbor. My family shared a fence line with your dad for years. He and my father, the judge, were long-time friends. I’ll miss Tom.” After finally releasing her hand, he turned his attention briefly to the man beside her.

“Hawk.” The greeting was terse, an exercise in minimal civility. No love lost there, Jenny surmised. Brad Caldwell then introduced her to the woman standing between Peter and himself. “This is my sister, Cindy.”

Well, if
looks could kill,
she’d just been slain.

Cindy Caldwell was a bit older than Jenny. She was also very beautiful, very high maintenance. Her platinum blonde hair was thick and straight and fell to her shoulders in a
n expensively styled cut. She was wearing a designer label dress that Jenny recognized. It was cut narrowly to highlight her long willowy figure, and fit snugly across the bodice to accentuate her voluptuous bust line. Jenny had seen enough breast enlargements to recognize them on Cindy Caldwell. In her very high heels, the blonde was nearly as tall as her brother. She barely managed a nod to Jenny before her eyes slashed to the arm Mr. Larson still had hooked around Jenny’s waist.

“Hawk.” Verbally, she greeted him the way her brother had, but the annoyance in her gaze immediately softened as her eyes rose to his face. “Are you okay
?

“I’m managing.”

“That was a beautiful eulogy you gave Tom.” By this point, it was obvious the woman had feelings for Mr. Larson.

Whatever they were,
though, they did nothing to ease his tension. “Thank you.”

Jenny had also been going to thank him for his moving tribute to her dad. Now she found herself sharply irritated that this woman had thanked him first.

She sighed. “Peter, I really need to get home. It’s been a long day.”

He didn’t look as if he wanted to be hurried. He
’d been talking to Brad Caldwell like he’d known him for years, instead of just a few minutes. Jenny knew Peter could be like that. He knew how to spot money and influence. It made him a good businessman, but an obnoxious companion at times.