Along Came a Cowboy, page 24
“I’m just tired,” Allie said, resisting the compulsion to look out the window and check the corral again. Carter had been there two minutes ago and no doubt he’d be there the next time she looked.
“Remember that depression can sneak up on people,” Rebecca said. “Often it makes us perceive things differently. We can blow events up in our head. Even hallucinate.”
Allie picked up a piece of cornbread, surprised at how quick Rebecca was to throw out a diagnosis. Besides, she wasn’t depressed. She was sad and confused and hurt. This time she couldn’t stop herself from turning toward the window.
Carter stood in the corral surrounded by twelve captivated guests, his back to the dining hall. Seems as though the back of his head was all she ever saw.
“Those orphan calves are certainly a hit,” Janet said, following Allie’s gaze. “Everyone wants to feed them. Although most just want a chance to get close to Carter.” She gave a little snicker. “Good luck with that.”
Allie’s throat tightened. She opened her napkin and wrapped up the piece of cornbread, her appetite gone. She didn’t want to talk about Carter. Not their escape, or his helicopter rescue, and certainly not the way every female between the age of nine and ninety ogled him. It would be easier when her injuries healed and she had her dance job back. Even office work would give her something to do, and provide a quiet place to hide.
But Sharon had insisted she take time off and everyone seemed to think she needed company. Indeed, her friends were tripping over themselves trying to be supportive: watching movies with her in the dorm, sitting beside her in the dining room and delivering funny little gifts they’d ordered online. Even Monty had brought some horse ointment that he swore was better than any cream the doctors prescribed, insisting she use it on both her face and feet. Of course, cowboys were known to be solicitous—all but one.
A lump rose in her throat, even making sipping coffee difficult.
Maybe Carter’s behavior wasn’t noticeable to anyone else. Maybe only she realized his days were uncommonly busy; his nights as well. He was definitely avoiding her. Sure, he sat beside her at suppertime, answered politely whenever she asked him a question, but it was as if he didn’t care enough to look at her. When he did, his eyes were hooded, his expression distant. And she had no idea what she’d done wrong.
He’d been discharged from the hospital a week before her and when she’d returned to the ranch, she’d been so excited to see him, she’d broken into a hobbling shuffle, prepared to leap into his arms. But he’d stepped back, his face stony.
“You should be using crutches,” he said, staring grimly at her bandaged feet. Then she’d been mobbed by her friends and he’d backed away, and her anticipated reunion with him had been anything but grand.
She’d tried several more times, even knocking on his dorm door. That had been humiliating. He’d been polite but aloof, hustling her back to her own room so quickly it was like she had a contagious virus. And she wasn’t a glutton for punishment. It was safer not to approach him, not to talk to him, not to look at him. But that was easier said than done, especially when Carter always drew a parade of females.
Both Janet and Rebecca were staring out the window, smirking at the women lined up inside the calf corral. There wasn’t a man among them. And the ladies were all perfectly pretty, with skin-tight jeans and pristine cowboy hats. One woman with a turquoise and silver belt almost tripped over her feet in her effort to ask Carter a question. Allie’s only consolation was that he didn’t pay them a bit of attention.
“Those women don’t really want to feed a calf,” Janet said. “They just want a picture that will make them look like they’re helping orphans.” Her voice turned thoughtful. “Actually, a shot of us bottle feeding a calf might be valuable. Having you and all those guests around would prove I can get along with pretty women, despite the stories the media have been spreading.”
She scraped her chair back and glanced at Allie. “Let’s go.”
Allie shook her head. No way was she joining that mob of women, even though Janet had a point. It had been suggested that Janet had deserted Allie because she had the queen bee syndrome, and was keen to dispose of any rivals. However, both Allie and Janet knew that wasn’t true. It had always been about the race. And Allie no longer felt like photo fodder. She’d earned Janet’s respect the hard way.
“No.” Allie shook her head again and leaned back against the hard rungs of the chair. “I don’t want to go in the calf corral.”
That was a lie. She wanted to be near Carter more than anything. She craved his voice, his touch, his company. But his coldness hurt and left her questioning if his behavior on the trail had been prompted by his promise to Sharon that he would look after her. The only thing she had left was her dignity.
She crossed her arms. “Rebecca can use my phone to take your calf picture,” she added. “And I promise to post them today on the ranch website.”
“But Carter won’t let me in the corral if you’re not with me,” Janet said. “He hates me for leaving you. And I already apologized, twice!” Her voice lifted in irritation. “You understand how badly I needed to win that race. Why can’t he?”
Janet always overlooked the fact that she hadn’t just deserted Allie; she’d also taken her food, socks and shoes, as well as the radio. But that was history. Besides, Allie couldn’t imagine how her presence would help with Carter. He did what he wanted—treated people the way he really felt—and right now he didn’t want to be near her. Although that wasn’t totally true.
He was always working close to the dining hall or dorm. If he didn’t want to be near her, he’d be down by the horse corrals or out with the other wranglers. She’d assumed his shoulder prevented him from riding, but when she asked Sharon, the woman had just given a knowing smile and said that wasn’t the case, and that his injuries had healed faster than hers.
No, Carter was hovering, as if determined to buffer her from uncomfortable questions. And when Rebecca had asked if Trina could have drowned while fishing—instead of by Dwight’s hands—he’d leveled the woman with a frown so ferocious it had shocked even Allie.
Understandably people were curious. Dwight had been charged with his wife’s death, along with two counts of attempted murder. However, everything would come out at his trial. In the meantime, being on the ranch insulated her from the media and having Carter close definitely stopped everyone else. She was grateful for his presence. But it didn’t ease her hurt.
In the hospital, he’d whispered that he loved her. And maybe he hadn’t wanted her to hear. Right now, he was acting more like a guard dog than a man in love.
“I’m not going to the corral,” she said, setting down her mug and tucking the wrapped cornbread in her pocket. “I want to check on some animals.”
“You have to come,” Janet said. “I don’t dare approach him without you. Believe me, this is the last thing I’ll ask of you. And I admit I’ve asked a lot.” She gave a surprisingly sheepish smile. “You really were an awesome partner. You lasted way longer than me. You even made it to the finish line over a much tougher route. And I’m an Olympic gold medalist. You also had to evade a brutish murderer—”
“We got it, Janet,” Rebecca interrupted, her tone sharp.
Allie glanced sideways. Rebecca was usually so accepting of Janet’s narcissist personality. Obviously the Olympic hype was wearing thin. Still, Janet looked as surprised as Allie felt, and also rather hurt, as if a pet dog had suddenly turned and bitten her hand.
“I guess I could feed the cat later,” Allie said, moved by her empathy for Janet. Apparently surviving tough times brought people closer, resulting in them having each other’s backs for life. Maybe she and Janet were examples. Of course, it hadn’t worked like that for her and Carter. His whispered profession of love had lasted less than a day, and he’d left the hospital without even bothering to say good-bye.
“Great.” Janet’s hurt gaze swung from Rebecca back to Allie. “You’re a good friend, Allie, and I owe you.”
Satisfied once again, Janet smoothed her hair and then hurried Allie and Rebecca toward the door.
They formed an odd trio with an impatient Janet leading the way. Rebecca leaned on her cane, still favoring her injured ankle. Allie walked gingerly on her tender feet, the ears of the moose slippers Janet had given her flopping in the air. Janet carried the conversation, talking about how she was certain animal organizations would be open to endorsing her, and soon she was ten feet ahead, unaware she no longer had an audience.
“It’s nice of you to come,” Rebecca said quietly. “Carter wouldn’t have let her in the corral. He’s not the type to change his mind either, especially considering how he feels about you.”
Allie stared straight ahead. Everyone seemed to think she and Carter were a couple. No one realized they’d barely spoken since the hospital.
“Did he ever see Trina’s body?” Rebecca went on. “Maybe that’s what left him so hostile to Janet?”
“No, he wasn’t there then.”
“So he didn’t see Trina in the river? You were the only one who did?”
Allie nodded, wishing the woman would talk about something else. And it wasn’t surprising that Carter was no longer enamored with Janet. The man was hardwired to be protective. So it didn’t seem fair for Rebecca to call him hostile.
“Carter is very loyal,” Allie said. “To everything under his care. And out on the trail, Janet didn’t act—”
“Didn’t act according to his high standards.” Rebecca finished Allie’s sentence and gave a humorless laugh. “And the fact that it was you who Janet deserted makes her actions even more unforgivable.”
“No,” Allie said. “He’d be like that about anyone.”
“I suppose,” Rebecca said. “But we all know that love can make people do extreme things.”
She sounded almost regretful but they were nearing the corral and Allie was distracted by Carter’s presence. She probably should have touched up her lipstick but she already knew appearances didn’t make one bit of difference. Not to Carter Bass. Besides, she’d been a wreck on the trail, and he liked her well enough then.
At least she’d thought he had.
Janet hurried into the corral, instantly stopping when Carter raked her with a glacial glare. “She wants to bottle feed a calf.” Janet jabbed a thumb over her shoulder at Allie. “So the pictures can go on the ranch website.”
Carter’s gaze shot past Janet, his eyes instantly softening. “You’re welcome to feed any of them, Allie,” he said.
“She wants a pretty calf,” Janet said, bolder now. “One that’s photogenic.”
Carter turned his back on Janet, totally dismissing her. “Do you want to pick out a calf, Allie? Or do you want me to? Some of them have been orphaned longer and are more accustomed to the feeding drill.”
Janet was gesturing behind his back, pointing at a calf whose brown face was splashed with white. But Allie couldn’t speak. Carter was looking at her in a way that left no doubt he felt something for her. And the anticipation of being close to him again, even in a dusty corral, left her tongue tied.
All she could think about was that soon she’d be standing beside him, close enough to touch, to smell, to talk. Maybe this would help break down his reserve, and everything would be like it was before. When it was just the two of them.
“It doesn’t matter which calf,” she said softly. “As long as you’ll show me how to hold the bottle.”
A shutter seemed to close over Carter’s face. “I can’t stay,” he said. “I have to give a roping lesson soon. But I’ll find a good wrangler to help.”
His gaze lifted to a spot on her forehead, and he backed toward the gate like a man desperate to escape.
A frisky calf wheeled behind the railed divider and the spiraling dust seemed to clog Allie’s throat. It didn’t matter. There wasn’t anything left to say. She used to be the queen of flirtation, when it had been no risk and all fun. Now she cared too much. And once again she was stuck on hold, just waiting for their next chance to speak. No doubt, that would be tonight at supper.
There, he’d stride in to sit beside her, scattering the other wranglers like a pit bull with a pack of poodles. He’d make sure her meat was cut so she didn’t have to handle a knife, he’d snag her favorite dessert and keep her water glass full. But he wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t touch her, and his conflicting behavior would only rip out another piece of her heart.
She couldn’t continue like this. She wouldn’t.
She knew feminine eyes were watching, some of them resentful. Carter was always surrounded by women. But today she didn’t care about the guests. She followed him to the side of the corral where he was unlatching the gate as if pursued by the hounds from hell.
“Why are you avoiding me?” she said. “Do you blame me for your shoulder? For Dwight’s attack?”
He swung around, his expression shocked. “God, no, Allie.” For one marvelous moment, his arms came up and it seemed he was about to touch her. Then he jammed his hands in his pockets. “It’s not that,” he said.
Still, something filled his face. Not shock or repugnance but something she couldn’t label.
“I need to know,” she said. “I deserve to know.”
“It’s not you.”
“At least be a little more original.”
His mouth twitched but his gloved hand remained on the latch. “You saved me,” he said. His initial flash of amusement was totally gone now. “And you almost died. That’s not right.”
She finally recognized what she saw on his face, what she heard in his voice: It was shame. And she could only gape.
“When I see you limping,” he went on, his voice so low now she could barely hear. “When I see your hands and face, I just...can’t look at you.” Shaking his head, he tugged his hat lower over his forehead. “I really have to go. Unless she’s bothering you. Want me to chase her off?”
His voice turned so hopeful, she almost laughed. Now she understood. It was his stubborn cowboy creed. He still cared. But he needed to make amends for her hike over Dead Man’s Gorge, almost like a penance. Then her relief was replaced with a chilling fear.
Protecting her from guests like Janet would never be enough to balance things out, to make things right—not for a man like Carter. It would eat at him. Erode his feelings. And his guilt, no matter how misplaced, would result in a permanent wedge. In fact, that was already happening.
“I like Janet,” she said. “And remember you saved me first. Several times. Dwight, the hatchet, the river. Besides, we’re not keeping score. And you need to get over it.”
She instantly wished she could change her words. “Need to get over it” was such a trite phrase. It only made people defensive or else they quit listening because you were talking like an idiot. Carter did the latter. His face froze, returning to its distant expression.
“I’ll have Pete bring over some warm bottles,” he said. “He’ll show you what to do. Stay outside the divider and hold the bottle through the railing. And be careful with the freckle-faced calf, no matter what Janet wants. He can get impatient and head butt.”
Then Carter stepped from the corral, clicked the gate shut and once again left her staring at his back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The east side of the tall grain bin was the perfect place for Allie to escape. To think. The area was off bounds to guests, and even wranglers only came here when it was time to refill the feed truck. She slumped to the ground, leaning her back against the steel wall, trying to remain optimistic. She hadn’t even stayed to watch Janet bottle feed the calf, needing to be alone to digest Carter’s words.
Guilt. He felt guilty. That was almost laughable if it wasn’t so problematic. A man’s psyche could be a fragile thing. She remembered his tortured expression when he confided about his failure to save his horses. He’d worn that same look today, the one that said he’d failed to protect something he loved. And the knowledge was eating at him.
Perhaps she should have anticipated it. She could have asked Sharon to stop referring to her as a hero and building her up in front of the guests. And she should have tried harder not to limp, to keep her hands covered, to hide the ill effects from her hike. From now on, she’d put away her colorful animal slippers and squeeze her feet back into her boots, no matter how much they hurt.
She wiggled her foot, staring at her purple moose slippers with the floppy ears and cross-eyed smile. She’d miss the slippers, not only because they were the only thing that didn’t hurt her feet but because she and Janet shared a tacit moment whenever she slipped them on. They both knew a rampaging moose wasn’t at all cute.
She flipped over her hands to check the skin on her palms. Ugly and sore, but hopefully they’d heal soon. The laceration near the base of her thumb was the deepest, courtesy of Dead Man’s Gorge when Carter’s trusty lariat had been the only thing keeping her from smashing into the rocks.
Did the use of his lariat bother him too? Besides relying on it to find help, she’d also used the rope to pull him from the river but that only proved he was a good instructor. Although in the future maybe she shouldn’t talk about roping either. And she wouldn’t pick up a lariat ever again even though she’d harbored a secret fantasy about learning to ride and rope properly.
Still, she couldn’t keep her hands hidden forever and they might carry scars. Carter might never want to discuss it but he’d see her hands and remember. Besides, the entire Man Tracker experience had affected her. Shaped her. Made her realize she was strong, capable and more than able to look after herself. She couldn’t just sweep those events beneath the carpet. She didn’t want to.
She closed her eyes in despair and pressed the back of her head against the steel wall. He’ll get over it.
But that reassurance felt empty. What if he didn’t? Logically, he must know that he had saved her life. Sharon Barrett had offered him lifetime employment for his courage, and Sharon didn’t make offers like that lightly. Apparently she had also offered him a chalet but he’d declined, saying he preferred to remain in the dorm.
