Miss Murray on the Cattle Trail(42)
And, God, he’d never forget other things, like seeing her with her hair down and wearing that silky yellow dress at the hotel in Winnemucca and smiling at him across the restaurant table. And later that night...
He clenched his fist under the table. He missed Dusty with every breath he drew.
Consuelo hovered at his elbow. “You like big slice of peach pie, Señor Zach?”
“No, thanks, Consuelo.”
She eyed him and frowned. “But is your favorite!”
He shook his head.
“But, señor, I make special and...why you not want any? Is not like you.”
He was afraid to answer for fear his voice would be unsteady.
At the opposite end of the table Alice cleared her throat. She was looking at him kinda funny and was trying not to smile.
“Zach, since you’re not having any of Consuelo’s peach pie, perhaps you would step into the kitchen and fetch me a...a clean fork? I seem to have dropped mine.”
Glad to escape all the comments about Dusty, Zach shoved his chair back and headed for the kitchen. He went straight to the silverware drawer, scrabbled around inside for a clean fork and closed his fingers around one. He had just turned back toward the dining room when he heard a voice.
“Take two forks, Zach. I want some peach pie, too.”
He spun toward the speaker. “Dusty!”
He stared at her, unable to move. She was wearing the pink apron with all those ruffles, the one he’d ordered from Verena Forester weeks ago and mailed to Chicago.
He must be dreaming.
“Dusty, what are you—Where’d you come from?”
“From the train station, of course. That nice Sheriff Rivera drove me out to the ranch this morning.”
Zach dropped the fork and closed the distance between them.
“Dusty. Dusty, I—”
“Zach, hush. Just kiss me.”
Tears sparkled on her cheeks. His lips found hers and he felt his insides jolt at the sweet taste of her mouth. He was so hungry for her he was shaking, and as he kissed her she began to tremble, as well.
“Oh, honey—”
“Don’t talk, Zach. Just keep kissing me.”
“Gladly,” he murmured against her lips. His brain began to spin, and all at once he wanted to take her to bed. “Dusty,” he whispered. “Are you really here, or am I dreaming?”
She gave a soft laugh. “This is no dream,” she said quietly. “I’m here and this is real and I want you to keep kissing me.”
With pleasure, he thought. With very great pleasure.
After a long few minutes, Alex stepped out of Zach’s arms and walked into the dining room. Instantly the ranch hands fell silent, and then they all started talking at once, asking questions and then more questions.
Roberto rose, his eyes shiny, and kissed her cheek. She was so close to tears she couldn’t even smile at him.
Zach guided her to a chair. It had been his seat, she deduced from the untouched cup of coffee and the uneaten slice of pie on his plate. She didn’t want to sit down. She wanted to grab Zach’s hand and pull him out to the front porch so he could kiss her some more.
He spilled Curly out of the chair next to hers and settled himself beside her while she nibbled on his peach pie and tried to answer all the questions the men fired at her.
“How come you’re here, Miss Alex?”
“You get fired or somethin’?”
“Miss Alex, you sure write good columns. I saved every one of ’em.”
“What’s a leave of absence, anyway?”
“You miss all them beans ’n’ bacon, huh, Miss Alex?”
“You played any more hands of poker lately?” This from Curly.
Consuelo alternately beamed and poured more coffee. “We keep good secret, no, señorita?” she whispered. “I tell not even my José.”
Alex reached to squeeze the woman’s work-worn hand.
The questions went on and on until they were replaced by tales about their adventures since the cattle drive. She loved that they wanted to tell her everything, about all the horses they’d broken and the miles of fence they’d repaired and the new line shack they’d built on Vinegar Butte, and on and on.
But as much as she enjoyed it, she thought the afternoon would never end.
“You gonna be here for supper, Miss Alex?” Curly asked. “Maybe we could talk some more.” He glanced inquiringly at Aunt Alice.
“Sorry,” Zach said. “She’s comin’ out to my ranch for supper. You can see her tomorrow.”
That announcement met with groans, but Alex was already impatient to see his new ranch. Oh, be honest, Alex. All you really want to do is be alone with Zach. The men could groan all they wanted.
She grabbed his hand, and together they walked out to the front porch. Four horses were tied up at the hitching rail in front.
“Could we ride double?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, just untied his bay mare, pulled himself into the saddle and held out his hand. She thought she saw Aunt Alice walk out onto the porch and hide a smile.
He held Alex on his lap all the way over to his ranch. She refused to take off her pink apron, so she hiked up her skirts and didn’t care a whit that her petticoats showed.
Zach proudly showed her the barn, the bunkhouse, the corrals and the half-dug foundation for his ranch house, talking nonstop about his plans for stone fireplaces and his herd of cattle and kitchen stoves and indoor sinks.
She was impressed, so pleased for what he had accomplished. “This is everything you wanted, isn’t it, Zach?”
He took his time answering. “Yeah, in a way,” he said at last. “It’s good land and I’ve got good stock. There’s no money owing on it. It’s just...”
She waited.
“Dusty, what in hell are you doing out here?”
“Well,” she said slowly, “I...came to visit Aunt Alice and Uncle Charlie.”
His eyes clouded, but he said nothing.
“And,” she continued, “I wanted to show off my beautiful pink apron.”
“You like it, do you?”
She nodded. “It’s the most wonderful gift I have ever received.” Her throat was so tight she had to stop talking.
In the silence he came over, stood in front of her and waited.
“I came for all sorts of reasons, Zach. But mostly, I came to see you.”
He drew in a long breath. “Why? Dusty, it won’t be any easier to say goodbye now than it was last summer.”
“Yes, I know.”
He gave her a long look. “Every Sunday the hands read all your newspaper articles out loud at the dinner table. It got so I could hardly stand it.”
“I worked hard on those articles, too. I wanted you to like them, Zach. You more than anybody.”
“All the hands are plenty upset that you won’t be writing any more columns for a while.”
“And what about you? Will you miss them?”
He sent her a sharp look. “What’s a leave of absence, anyway?”
“Oh, that. Well, it’s some time my editor, Nigel Greene, is allowing me to...” Her voice trailed off.
“Allowing you to what? I thought you liked working for your newspaper.”
“I do like it. It’s exciting and demanding, and Nigel says I am very good at it. He says I am building a fine career in a time-honored profession.”
“No surprise there, Dusty. I’m proud of you. If that’s what makes you happy, I’m—”
“And then you sent that apron, all pink and ruffly, and...” She swallowed. “I just wanted to be sure there wasn’t something else...”
He studied her face as if he’d never seen her before. “Something else like what?” he asked, at last.
“Well, like... Oh, Zach, it’s so hard to put it into words.”
“Try,” he said, his voice dry.
“Um, I needed time to think.”
“Think,” he echoed, his tone suspicious. “Think about what?”
She took a deep breath. “About who I was. And who I was becoming.”
“Yeah? Go on.”
“Well, ever since last summer and the cattle drive...and you,” she added, “I started to see things differently. I’ll always love writing for the newspaper. That will never change.”
“I figured that, Dusty. You don’t have to explain.”
She gave a soft laugh. “Well, I have to admit it’s really kind of amusing. I, who have the world on a string, as Nigel puts it, find that I have to ask myself some hard questions.” She stopped and swallowed.
Zach frowned. “What kind of questions?”
There was a long pause while she worked up her courage. “The first question was why this pink apron...” she ran one hand over the crisp gingham garment tied around her waist “...touched me so deeply. It meant a lot to me, Zach. And it made me so happy that I had to ask myself why.”
He just looked at her with a question in his green eyes. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why did it make you happy?”
“Because you sent it, and because it touched a part of me I was trying to pay no attention to. And that brings up the second question.”
“What’s the second question, Dusty? Don’t think I can stand here and listen to you much longer without wanting to... Oh, hell, I’m gonna do it anyway.” He bent and scooped her up into his arms and held her against his chest. “Never did like long philosophical explanations, so just spit it out.”