The Way We Wed

Sighing, he let himself remember the summer day last year that he’d seen her for the first time….

Red Rock Ranch, previous summer

Jeff leaned against the corral fence, one booted foot propped on the bottom rung, lazily watching the horses on a hot August afternoon. Red Rock Ranch in northern Arizona was the perfect place for him to recuperate after his ordeal in Idaho, or so East had said. His dad had told him to do as little or as much as he wanted, not to push himself, to let his psyche heal.

However, Jeff had arrived only yesterday and he’d already discovered that he wasn’t very good at doing nothing.

Red Rock was another of SPEAR’s legitimate businesses, a working cattle ranch that also provided adventure vacations for monied tourists. But more importantly, it was a SPEAR training site ideally situated in the rugged mountains surrounding the ranch. It was beautiful country with its freshwater streams, the isolated location that brought about pitch-black nights, the silence broken only by the animals nearby.

And there were plenty of them, two thousand head of Brahman-cross cows, twenty bulls and a couple dozen horses. The nearest town was two hours away on a rough dirt road scarcely navigable without an ATV. There were several of those around, too, and even an ultralight aircraft the manager used to fly out each morning over the 120 acres to check the water supply, fences and livestock. It was a huge operation and Jeff had learned to respect the dozen or so ranch hands who kept things running smoothly.

He eased his hat back farther on his blond head and glanced up to watch a hawk chase a low-flying quail. He’d only visited Red Rock once before in his late teens, but the manager, Slim Huxley, remembered him well. That summer, Slim had taught him to ride a horse, how to spot fresh mountain lion tracks and the best way to round up cattle to herd them to a different pasture, and a whole lot more. East had commented when Jeff had returned to Condor that fall that he’d sent away a boy and gotten back a man, for Jeff had filled out and muscled up.

Suddenly the lazy afternoon quiet was broken by the sound of a galloping horse coming closer. Jeff turned his head in the direction of the open pastureland off to the left.

She was some distance away yet, astride a chestnut mare, her short dark hair flying about her face. With the pounding of each hoof, red dust sprayed from the dry rocky soil beneath the short, tough grass. Luckily there were no trees in her path for she was riding at a pretty good clip, heading for the barn right behind him. Straightening, he watched her approach.

Now he could tell she was as one with the horse, leaning forward over the thick neck, grasping handfuls of coarse mane. She was a small woman, yet she seemed totally un-afraid of the huge beast. Fascinated, Jeff wondered who she was, this woman who rode so confidently. He was aware there were about twenty tourists staying at the ranch just now, but none that he’d seen ride like that.

The mare sensed the ride was nearly over and seemed reluctant to stop even though they were nearing the barn. Finally, the big horse gave in and moved into a canter, then a walk. Moments later, both mare and rider came to a halt near him. The woman swung out of the saddle with a move so graceful that he knew she’d done it many times before.

Jeff studied her in silence, taking his time to admire. She was small and feminine-looking despite the outsize man’s shirt and snug jeans she wore. Her wind-tossed hair was a rich brown, glossy, curling forward at her chin. Her face was flushed from her ride, a lovely olive complexion hinting at a Mediterranean heritage, her features fine-boned. Her mouth had a full lower lip that immediately had him wondering how it would feel to kiss her.

Jeff leaned against the fence and waited for her to notice him.

“Good girl,” the woman told the mare as she stroked the horse’s hide. The horse bobbed her big head up and down, then stretched to nuzzle the rider. The woman let out a husky laugh, then swung about and spotted Jeff for the first time. She shook back her hair while her chocolate-brown eyes slowly took inventory of him from his black Stetson to his leather boots, lingering just a heartbeat too long on his midsection.

Suddenly she smiled and Jeff felt his heart do a somersault.

“You must be new,” she said in a voice as husky as her laugh. She stepped closer, held out her hand. “I’m Tish Buckner.”

He straightened, took her hand, slender but capable, and felt a jolt skitter up his spine. Her fingers trembled in his grasp and he knew she felt something, too. He watched nerves dance in her surprised gaze, saw her try to conceal her reaction.

“Jeff Kirby,” he said, relieved that his voice hadn’t cracked since he felt like a pubescent teenager meeting his first girl. He could easily stand here holding her hand and staring into those fathomless brown eyes forever, he decided. Lord, but she was beautiful.

“Nice to meet you,” Tish replied, then tugged her hand free of his, but kept her eyes on his face. She studied him a moment longer, then raised her firm chin that hinted at a stubborn streak and handed him the mare’s reins. “Would you cool her down, please? Her name’s Belladonna and she belongs in stall 10.”

It took a moment for Jeff to realize she thought he was one of the ranch hands. Amusement bubbled up inside him, but he struggled not to react to her somewhat haughty, lady-of-the-manor attitude. A natural mistake, he supposed, seeing as how he was hanging around the corral wearing worn jeans, a denim work shirt and scuffed boots.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling down at her. He was half a foot taller at the very least. He had a sudden urge to reach over and touch her shiny hair, to watch the heat move into those big eyes. Or would they turn cool and frosty? he wondered. He decided to find out.

Moving one step closer, Jeff raised his hand and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, then let his fingers linger in the softness. He watched the sun get caught in her eyes and fleck the brown with gold as she narrowed them at him, then stepped back.

“If you value your hand, you won’t do that again,” Tish said, her voice suddenly cold as a mountain stream.

So she was skittish, like a newborn filly. She didn’t seem like the average city-bred tourist who came to Red Rock for a ranch vacation, Jeff thought. She was too good a horsewoman and definitely not interested in a flirtation with a cowboy. No rings on her fingers, he noticed, so she probably wasn’t attached. If she was a SPEAR agent, he hadn’t heard of her. His gaze slid to her mouth, that full lip that seemed to invite a man to explore. No, he definitely hadn’t met her before. He’d have remembered that mouth. He’d love to question her, but he decided it might be more fun to allow her to think he was a hired hand. For now.

Jeff dropped his hand, gave her a lazy smile. “No offense meant, ma’am. I guess you don’t like to be touched.” It was his turn to narrow his gaze, as if sizing her up. “But maybe you just need to be touched by the right man.”

Now there was fire in her eyes as she stiffened. Without another word, she turned and caressed the mare’s flank, noticeably angry when she saw that her hand wasn’t steady. “See you tomorrow, baby,” she whispered to Belladonna. Turning, Tish walked away, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders obviously tense.

Jeff watched her go until she was out of sight, then led the mare to the side pasture to walk her awhile before wiping her down after that vigorous run. “Sure wish you could talk, Belladonna,” Jeff commented. “I’d love to hear all about that lady.”

Red Rock Ranch consisted of several outbuildings including separate barns for milking cows and newborn calves, others for insemination and birthing as well as horse stables. There was also a large bunkhouse where the ranch hands lived and an adjacent mess hall that had its own cook. The tourists vacationed in a luxurious three-story building that offered spectacular views from deluxe suites. Their dining room took up nearly half of the lower floor.

SPEAR agents stayed in the two-story main house with large, homey rooms with private baths on the top floor. On the lower level was a rustic lobby with slate flooring, a conference room, the manager’s office and a great room with a huge stone fireplace, comfortable furniture, a large-screen television and a full wall of bookcases filled to over-flowing.

There was also the dining room which could easily rival that of a five-star hotel. Breakfast was served from five to ten, lunch from twelve to two and dinner was a leisurely affair available from six on into the evening. In between, snacks could be had by phoning the kitchen and would be delivered to the agent’s room, provided Elsa Winchester, the cook, liked you. All others had best stay out of her way, for she ran her kitchen with an autocratic hand.

Jeff deliberately hadn’t gone down for the evening meal. The first reason was that Elsa was a terrific cook. Too terrific. He’d had a big breakfast and a mammoth lunch, at Elsa’s insistence, since she remembered him from his earlier visit and still thought of him as a growing boy. If he added a huge dinner, he’d be taking in as many calories as the cowhands who spent twelve or fourteen hours using up energy while he was doing precious little to work off gigantic meals. The last thing he wanted was to balloon up, so he decided to drop by around the time he figured most of the agents would be either finished or having coffee.

The second reason was that he’d mosied over to the tourist quarters and discovered that Tish Buckner wasn’t staying there. Next he’d cornered the clerk at the front desk of the main house for the real lowdown. Naomi Star had red hair, thick glasses, an infectious smile and knew everyone and everything that went on at the ranch. Jeff had turned on the charm and Naomi had revealed that Tish wasn’t married, was a very private person and, that as far as she knew, Tish was at Red Rock on vacation.

Armed with that knowledge, Jeff sauntered into the dining room around seven just as the sun was streaking the sky outside the cathedral-style windows with gold and orange and magenta strokes before it disappeared behind the mountains. He was in luck for Tish was there, seated between Slim Huxley, the ranch manager, and John Winters, a fortyish, dark-haired agent Jeff had only just met yesterday. The three other chairs at the table were vacant. Of the dozen tables in the room, only two others were occupied.

Tish was deep in conversation with Slim and didn’t notice Jeff’s arrival. Jeff walked to the side board, poured himself a cup of steaming coffee and slowly carried it over to Tish’s table.

Slim was the first to spot him and smiled a welcome. “Join us, won’t you, Jeff?” He glanced toward the swinging kitchen doors. “I know Elsa wouldn’t mind getting you something to eat.” Slim was nearly fifty with laugh lines around his eyes permanently etched into his tan face, a tall man with thinning sandy hair who never gained a pound no matter how much he ate.

“Thanks, Slim, but I’m not hungry.” Jeff pulled out a chair, sat down and greeted John before swinging his gaze to Tish. He saw that she looked puzzled and just a little suspicious.

“I don’t know if you’ve met Tish Buckner, Jeff,” Slim continued, “one of our agents who just arrived for a little R and R. Tish, this is Jeff Kirby. Or should I say Dr. Kirby?”

“Hello.” He smiled at Tish, waiting for her reaction.

“We met this afternoon,” Tish began, acknowledging him with a wry smile. “He’s the cowboy I asked to cool down my horse after a run.” The smile spread to her eyes, which were a shade of coffee brown this evening.

So she could laugh at herself, Jeff thought, pleased. By turning the joke on herself, she’d defrayed the embarrassment.

“You’re kidding!” Slim commented, grinning. “You thought he was a ranch hand?” He laughed out loud while John just smiled. “You’ll have to tell that one to East, Jeff.”

Sipping his coffee, Jeff watched her face, could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. She was wearing a yellow silk blouse tucked into khaki slacks tonight and looked better than anything he’d seen on the dessert table.

“You’re related to Easton Kirby?” she asked, curiosity obviously getting the best of her.

“He’s my father,” Jeff said, then watched confusion wrinkle her brow as she did the math. He was aware that he looked older than twenty-four, but even if he hadn’t, it would be unlikely that East fathered him. “My adoptive father.”

Tish nodded. “I met East some years ago at Condor. He’s a wonderful man.”

“Damn right he is,” John Winters added, rising. “Saved my life back when we worked together years ago.” He reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “’Scuse me, I’m going outside to grab a smoke.”

Was he the only one feeling the vibes across the table? Jeff wondered as he studied Tish. No, he could tell she felt something, too, the way she’d been looking at him from beneath thick lowered lashes. She dropped her gaze and picked up her cup to drink, then noticed it was empty.

“Can I get you a refill?” Jeff asked, pushing his chair back.

“No, thanks.” She rose, smiling at Slim. “I think I’ll turn in. Five o’clock comes around real fast.”

Slim leaned back in his chair. “I told you, Tish, you don’t need to get moving that early.”

“You promised me a ride in your plane tomorrow morning. I’ll be ready.”

“Okay, then,” Slim said. “Meet me at the hangar ’bout six.”

“Will do. Good night.” She stepped aside as Slim got up and walked toward the side door in the direction of his office, then she raised her eyes to Jeff. “Glad to have met you.”

“Same here. I’ll walk you to your room.”

A slight frown came and went on her forehead. “That’s not necessary, but thanks.”

“Sure it is,” he insisted, falling in step with her as she left the dining room. “Don’t you know there are mountain lions in these parts?”

She ignored that and briskly walked to the elevators in an attempt to discourage him, but Jeff’s long strides had no trouble keeping up. The doors of the car closed, locking them into a forced intimacy.

Instead of facing the front, Jeff faced her. “So, where are you from?”

“The East Coast.”

“Where in the East?”

“New York.” It was apparent that his closeness made her feel uncomfortable, as if he were invading her space. When he raised a hand as if to touch her, she swatted it aside, turning to glare at him. “Didn’t you think I meant what I said earlier about that hand of yours?”

Jeff shrugged, then gave her his best boyish grin. “I like to live dangerously.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you. There’s not much call for a one-handed doctor.” The elevator doors slid open and she stepped around him and out, marching to her room.

Jeff followed and almost bumped into her when she stopped abruptly at her door. “Look at that, we’re neighbors. I’m right across the hall.”

“How fortunate for me. If I need a doctor, I’ll be sure to call.” She slid her card key in, pushed open the door. “Good night, Dr. Kirby.”

His hand on her wrist, gentle but firm, stopped her. “Wait just a minute, Tish. Why are you running off like this? It’s only seven-thirty.” He could feel her pulse go into overtime beneath his thumb as he held her loosely, his eyes on hers as he noticed that she didn’t pull away. “Why don’t we go for a walk? The stars in an Arizona sky night are fantastic.”

Tish let out a long sigh. “Look, we should get something said between us right now. I’m not interested and…”

He stepped closer, so close he could inhale her fragrance. She smelled like wildflowers he’d once picked on a hillside. “Do you want me to show you just how interested I think you are?” Before she could respond, he dropped her wrist and reached up to glide two fingers along her cheek and down the silk of her throat, and watched her eyes darken, her breathing go shallow. Having made his point, he stepped back so she wouldn’t feel as if he had her penned in.

She didn’t move, looking as if she were stunned at her own reaction. Finally, she eased inside and, without a word, quietly closed the door.

Jeff knew she was still there, on the other side of the door, probably leaning against it. You’re interested, Tish, and so am I, he thought, then walked to his own room.

Chapter 2

The man across the plane aisle was snoring loud enough to wake the dead, Jeff thought as he sat up, jolted from his mind meanderings. He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. Apparently the flight attendant, a tall blonde somewhere in her thirties, noticed Jeff’s restlessness and walked over.

“Would you care to change your seat, sir?” she whispered, glancing toward the snoring passenger.

“Thanks, but I’m not sleeping anyway.” He handed her his cup from the tray table. “A little more coffee would be great.”

“Certainly.” Silently, she made her way to the galley, returning minutes later with a steaming cupful. “Can I get you anything else? A pillow or blanket?”

Jeff shook his head and smiled his appreciation before tasting the hot brew. As someone in the medical field, he knew he shouldn’t drink so much coffee, but during the long hours at the hospital, at times the caffeine was all that kept him going. That and thoughts of Tish.

Leaning back again, Jeff closed his eyes, thinking back again to that fateful week they’d met in Arizona….

From that first evening on, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. From the next table over at meals or pausing along the corral fence to study her as she worked a horse or gazing across the campfire one evening as several of the agents and guests gathered to sing songs with the majestic mountains in the background. He kept watch and smiled at her occasionally, but rarely spoke and never moved close enough to touch her. Though he wanted to…badly.

For her part, Tish kept him in her sights as well, sometimes openly staring, periodically tossing a glance over her shoulder as she walked away, her eyes occasionally searching a room for him. Now and again, he’d catch her gaze locked to his face, her expression thoughtful and contemplative. She made no move to come nearer, though she seemed on the brink of doing so.

He liked the way she carried herself, straight and proud, her demeanor that of a tall woman though she was no more than five-four or five. He liked the way the setting sun would get caught in the brown of her hair and turn it auburn. He liked the way her smile got all warm and fuzzy when she talked with the two children of a tourist couple.

She’d even arranged to give the older child, Luke, a boy of about twelve, riding lessons. He was gangly and awkward but, in no time, Tish had him smiling and almost confident astride one of the gentle mares. Afterward, he’d thanked her and started back toward his mother, then he’d impulsively run back for a fierce hug. Jeff had seen the surprised look of pleasure on Tish’s face before she’d turned aside.

Then there was that hot afternoon, about a week after they’d met, the day the new calves were branded. It was a miserable job that called for agility, strength and a certain hardening of the heart when the calves bawled and struggled and fought. Branding was not Jeff’s favorite job. He’d been told by East to do only the things he wanted to do while healing and regaining his strength, but he hadn’t turned down the job boss when he’d all but challenged him to help out. Jeff knew he was the youngest agent there, mostly inexperienced and unseasoned. He also guessed that the cowhands were out to test him, to see what he was made of.

Four hours into it and Jeff was ready to drop. Muscles he didn’t know he had hurt like hell, sweat was pouring into his eyes and only half the day was over. Mac was the job boss, the one releasing the calves from the chute, aiming them over to Jeff and three others in the corral with the branding irons. Mac was a mean one, short, bandy-legged and prematurely bald so he never took off his hat, and he had the temperament of a jailhouse guard. No one liked him, including Jeff.

That day, Mac was mainly picking on Teddy, a new hand who couldn’t have been shaving long, looking no older than nineteen. Mac kept yelling criticisms that the kid wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, good enough. The dressing down in front of half a dozen cowboys hanging on the fence finally took its toll on the kid and he looked near tears. That’s when Mac moved in for the kill, shouting that Teddy was useless, finally grabbing the branding iron from him, looking for all the world like he was going to press the fire-hot metal end onto Teddy’s tender flesh before he tossed it aside with a disgusted grunt.

To this day, Jeff didn’t know what came over him. Certainly, he was no hero and no match for Mac who outweighed him by a good thirty pounds. But during the years he’d been a runaway he’d run into his fair share of bullies and hated them all. Standing behind Mac, he dropped his own iron and yelled to get his attention.

Mac’s thick neck scarcely moved as he turned his head toward Jeff. “What’d you say?”

“I said leave him alone,” Jeff answered, his eyes angry, his stance challenging, feet apart.

Mac smiled and it wasn’t pretty. Then he took a step toward Jeff. “And who’s going to make me?”

“I am,” Jeff answered, and let loose with a right to the man’s gut followed by a left to his jaw that sent him sprawling, narrowly missing the fire where the branding irons were heated. Mac scrambled to his feet, fire in his eyes. He came charging at Jeff like a bull, but Jeff was younger and faster, so he moved aside in time. Furious now, Mac spun around and smacked a thick fist into Jeff’s shoulder, but Jeff held his ground.

The cowhands yelled encouragement but Jeff just wanted to end it. He waited until Mac came thundering close again, then let loose with a sucker punch to his already injured jaw. Mac went down like a felled tree. He tried to get up, flailing his arms halfheartedly, lifted his head, then fell back, out cold.

Jeff yanked off his gloves. “I’m through for today,” he said, and walked out of the corral. The boy he’d rescued was too stunned and probably too frightened to move, but the guys along the fence cheered and those nearest him patted his shoulder as he made his way to the barn. He was hot, tired and disgusted with himself.

He’d done exactly what East had repeatedly warned him not to do, settled something with his fists instead of his brain. He’d been young those years he’d lived on the run and the only way he’d survived was to be a street fighter out of necessity when bigger runaways had tried to take advantage. But he’d given that up ten years ago, or so he’d thought until Mac had gone too far.

Nearing the barn, Jeff heard running footsteps, then felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Teddy, looking awkward and shy. His crooked smile would have made an orthodontist’s hands twitch.

“Thanks,” he muttered, his face reddening.

Nodding, Jeff walked on and almost didn’t notice Tish standing in the doorway, in her eyes a new respect. Still, he marched on by, knowing he’d made a formidable enemy in Mac.

He went straight to his room, took a long, hot shower, then lay down on his bed, trying to rest his overtaxed muscles and his throbbing right hand. Ever since his ordeal of being buried alive, of not knowing if he’d ever see daylight again, he’d noticed that he had a much shorter fuse. He was grateful to be alive and wondered why others didn’t see what he saw, that each day was a gift. The petty arguments, the anger, the need to best someone smaller and younger, all of it made him see red. Jeff sighed, thinking he’d have to work on these sudden temper flare-ups or he’d become just like the bullies he disliked.

Feeling restless, he got up and tried watching television, but nothing held his interest. He flipped through a couple of magazines, but he didn’t feel like reading. Pacing, he thought of Tish Buckner and wondered why she showed signs of interest, yet only from a distance. And he wondered how he could change that.