Material Witness (33 page)

She gasped softly, a small flash of
uncertainty creeping into her sun filled eyes.

Stoney sputtered.  “Just as I
thought.  Lady, roughing it isn't staying at the local motor lodge-”

Her eyes flew open in sudden
surprise.  “Wait a minute.  The local motor lodge?  My father got to you.”  She
said the words as a statement, he noticed, as if she was already convinced that
it was fact.

Stoney arched an eyebrow.

“This just stinks!”  Balling her
fists, she spun on her heels, muttering something unladylike under her breath
as she took a few steps along the corral he'd been repairing in the feed yard. 
Her soft red cotton shirt clung to her back, defining the lines of her slender
figure as she took each labored breath.  He couldn’t help but wonder how it
would feel to run his hand along her small back.

As she turned to face him again, he
saw that her determined fire was back.  “No matter.  This isn't between you and
my father; it's between you and me.  If you're holding out for more money, then
fine.  Whatever it is that he promised you for turning me away, I'll top in
return for getting me safely through the next month.”

“Look, lady, I haven’t a clue what
you’re talking about.  But my refusal has nothing to do with money.” 

She cocked her head in disbelief. 
Her anger had vanished with the dust and was replaced with blue-blooded charm. 
“Oh, it’s always about money, isn't it?”

His jaw tightened.  Yes, there was
something definitely wrong here.  And money had nothing to do with it.  It had
everything to do with this beauty standing in front of him, who was clueless
about what she was getting her pretty little hide into.  “No,” he replied
tersely.

“Mr. Buxton, I need your help.”

“Tourist season is in full swing. 
I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else.”

He turned his back to her and began
walking along the fence toward the barn, almost forgetting...  Abruptly, he
glanced up and saw the charred remains of the barn.  The place where all his
troubles had started just one year ago.  It hadn't taken but a second for him
to hear her boots digging into the dusty gravel behind him, jarring him from
his thoughts.

“Then I'll do it myself,” she said to
his back.

His whole body stiffened.  He angled
back to read her face, to see if she was just being a spoiled rotten rich kid,
trying to get her way, or if she was actually serious.  Seeing her head held
high and her arms crossed in front of her, he realized she was dead serious. 

And dead she'd be if she stepped one
boot into those mountains alone.

“You'll do no such thing.” 
Frustration flaring, he lifted his dusty hat and forced his fingers through the
thick crop of black hair before returning the hat to his head.  “You just don't
get it, do you?  You're not asking me to take you on a theme park ride where
you'll get to see the wonders of the world at a nice safe distance.  This is
God's country.  The creatures that live up there don't know civilization, and
you are no better than them.  You could--probably will--get killed if you go
out there alone.”  His lips twitched, taking a good long appraising look at the
woman in front of him.  “You might even chip a nail on that pretty hand of
yours.” 

The condescending bastard! Melanie
fumed inwardly.  If there was one thing she didn’t need right now was an
overblown ego for a guide.  Unfortunately, she knew it was foolish to venture
out in the wilderness on her own, given her medical needs.  She exhaled,
feeling a prickly heat, caused by the sun and jet lag, settle along her spine. 
“I’m not exactly a babe in the woods, Mr. Buxton.  In fact, I probably know
more about those wild animals you fear will eat me alive than you do.”

He tilted an eyebrow.  “Oh, really?”

Okay, he was kind of cute, she
admitted to herself, in a primitive sort of way.  She probably would have
thought more about it if he didn’t smell so much like a barnyard.  Lord only
knew how long he’d been baking out in the sun, gaining steam.  But then again,
cowboys in the rough and tough real world held little resemblance to the
glamour that Hollywood gave them.  “I’m a zoologist.  I’ve studied all about
animals and the wilderness-”

“Yes, but have you ever ridden that
kind of terrain before?  Met the beast face to face?”

He had her there.  The only beast
she’d ever encountered was him!  Leading the sheltered life she had--albeit
with protest--she hadn’t had the chance to venture into anything more dangerous
than a walk through the Bronx Zoo.  But she was determined to change that
starting now.  The deal she’d made with her father held only one requirement. 
She needed to stay one month in the wilderness, and he’d keep the funding for
the Kenya project alive.  Now that her dreams were within reaching distance,
she wasn’t going to let some arrogant cowboy keep her down. 

She answered honestly, with
reluctance.  “No.”

His mouth twitched, then gave her a
half grin that made her insides stir and her mouth go dry.  “Just as I
thought.”

“But that doesn’t mean--”

“After I’m done here, there’s a long
line of fence to repair before the weekend, Ms. Summer.  I don’t have the time
to waste baby-sitting some city girl with romantic notions about experiencing
the wilderness.  I’ve got work to do.” 

Her blood burned through her veins. 
His dismissal of her may have signified the end of the conversation to him, but
she was far from through with this overbearing cowboy.

Melanie followed his skinny little
butt past the corral and all the way down a row of barbed wire rolled out on
the ground along the fence, ignoring the reason she’d taken notice of his
behind at all.  “So do I.  That’s why I need to hire you.”

He stopped short, and she almost
plowed right into his back.  Dust from the ground heaved up in a cloud, choking
her.  He twisted around and with his hard body mere inches from her, she had to
crane her neck to look up at his face.

Immediately, she was sorry she’d
taken a closer look.  His rugged good looks and appeal were all too evident
now.  His shoulders seemed as wide as he was tall, giving him the kind of
strength and power that had a woman longing to be wrapped in his arms.  His
thick dark hair, sweaty from working in the heat of the sun, curled around the
edges of his cowboy hat.  His features were sharply defined and his jaw was
square.  Although he’d yet to give up more than a quirk of a smile, she had the
feeling that deep dimples marked his cheeks when he laughed.

He touched his hat by the brim and
adjusted it on his head.  “Look, there are more than a handful of outfitters in
this territory.  Any one of them would be more than willing to give you what
you need for the right price.”

Sure they would, Melanie groaned
inwardly.  And then all it would take would be a quick phone call from her
father, promising a hefty deposit to the bank account of their choice and the
deal would be over.  She’d be on a plane back to Long Island before her
lipstick wore off her mouth. 

No, she needed Stoney Buxton.  From
what Gerald Hammond had said, he was good on a horse and solid in the range. 
Most of all, he was invisible.  No matter how hard her father tried or what
kind of money he tossed around, he’d never find Stoney Buxton.  That was the
only way she’d get a fair shot at proving herself.

Melanie snapped her gaze back toward
the house on the opposite side of the corral with the sound of the screen door
slamming.  On the front porch she saw a man sitting tall in a wheelchair,
glaring down at Stoney.  “What in tarnation has got hold of you, son?  Why
don’t you bring the girl in for a drink of something cool?  Don’t leave her
baking out there with the animals.”

“That’s what she wants,” she heard
Stoney mumble under his breath.  When she glanced up, his dark blue eyes met
hers, and he grew flush.  “Leave it to Pop to keep me in my manners.  I’m sure
Ma saw your car drive in and has something already set out for company.  That
is if you’d like something.”

Well at least she wasn’t getting
hauled off the ranch like she’d suspected she would.  It gave her more time to
work on convincing Stoney to take her up on her offer.  “That would be nice.”

They walked to the small farmhouse in
silence.  When she’d arrived, she’d noticed the ranch was smaller than some of
the others she’d passed in the area.  But the farmhouse had a nice welcome feel
about it that put her at ease.  She hadn’t noticed the ramp leading up to the
front entrance when she’d pulled onto the property earlier.  Stoney had been
working by the corral, and she’d zeroed in on him as the point of contact. 

A woman Melanie guessed to be
Stoney’s mother greeted them at the door and welcomed her with a wide smile. 
Melanie suddenly felt completely out of place in a world she’d never known. 
The house was simply decorated with a mix of Indian rugs, beaded crafts and old
furniture that had seen years of wear.  As simple as the home appeared, with
its lace drapes and braided rugs, it felt warm and cozy, like the Velveteen
Rabbit who’d been loved a lot.  A lump formed deep in her throat and she didn’t
know why.

“My name is Adele,” the woman said
warmly.

“It’s nice to meet you and...” 
Melanie swung around to greet the man in the wheelchair.  She was caught by his
overt appraisal of her, not quite sure it she met with approval or with
censure. 

“Wally Buxton,” he said, finally
rewarding her with a wide smile, revealing deep dimples.  Melanie returned the
smile, again wondering if Stoney had inherited the same gene. 

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Stoney stood at the kitchen door,
filling it completely with his height and bulk, holding his hat in one hand,
his hammer in the other.  “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’ve got some
barbed wire that’s been needing my attention.”  He put on his black hat and
tipped it cordially before spinning through the door.  Adele did nothing to
hide the disappointment of his dismissal.  Melanie fought to keep hers in
check.

“Why don’t you come into the dining
room?”

Still looking at the empty doorway,
she said, “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.  It’s no trouble
at all.  I rather enjoy having the company.  Since my daughter, Delia, got
married and moved away, I don’t get the opportunity to entertain much, except
for these sweaty cowboys and they’re not fit to be in my dining room half the
time.”

Melanie was raised with the finest
that life had to offer.  That included attending the best finishing schools
that had groomed her to polish and shine herself for the world to see.  What
was expected of her all her life and given her parents pride at the many social
functions she was forced to attend had always been the bane of Melanie’s
existence.  Still, in unpretentious company, she was glad her good manners and
grace were something she could draw on to put her hostess at ease.  She only
hoped that when she was finished visiting with Stoney’s mother, Stoney himself
would still be around for her to deal with on her own terms.

* * *

Stoney shook out the pain in his
throbbing thumb for the second time in the last fifteen minutes.  Damn that
hammer.  Damn the fence.  Damn Melanie Summers for showing up here, flashing
easy money around as if he was some mongrel sniffing for tidbits.

He tossed the hammer to the ground
and inspected the raw skin on his thumb.  No doubt the nail would be black and
purple by nightfall.  Serves him right for thinking about Melanie sitting with
his mom, no doubt telling her things a mother wants to hear.  He had a hard
enough time trying to convince his folks his decision to go back to rodeo was
good for the ranch.  He didn’t need the likes of some city princess to do in
all his hard work.

He heard the familiar sound of his
father’s wheelchair rolling over gravel and swung around to greet him.

“Almost done?” the elder Buxton
asked.

“Done breaking my hand, if that’s
what you mean.”  He shook out the lingering throb in his thumb.  “I still have
the section of fence in the far side where the herd broke through yesterday. 
There’s nothing but that old broken tree limb propped up, keeping most of the
cattle inside the property line.  After I’m through, I’ll take a ride out to
see if I can round up the strays.”

He finally stole a quick glance at
his father, who was just sitting in his chair, nodding his head.  No outward
emotion registered on his father’s face, but Stoney knew it was there, buried
somewhere, eating at him. 

Before the accident, it would have
been the two of them riding out together.  But since a falling beam that struck
him during the barn fire left him without the use of his legs, Wally Buxton was
limited to what he could do at the ranch from the confines of his motorized
wheelchair.  Knowing his father’s spirit would be broken if he couldn’t do anything
but watch from the porch as he worked the ranch, Stoney had constructed as many
wheelchair friendly devices to allow his father to work his ranch.  Given his
father’s determination and stubbornness--something both father and son
shared--he’d made the best of it without much of a fuss.  Still, there were
times when his injuries were all too apparent and confining.