Rodeo Nights (12 page)

His mouth left hers and she felt the shock of separation, an atom of the loneliness of the past decade, before his warm, wet caress touched her jaw, then her throat, reuniting them.

She arched into the hand he cupped over her breast, straining for the contact that through the sheer covering of her bra would almost satisfy a craving for skin against skin.

A sound came from deep in his throat as his mouth dragged lower, to the bones at the base of her throat—how could she feel such exquisite sensation through her bones? But she did. He slid his fingertips lightly over her nipple, so lightly it shouldn’t have made her shiver, But it did. The fabric covering it seemed an abrasion against flesh he couldn’t possibly make more sensitive. But he did.

Warm, moist, hungry, his mouth covered her nipple. She felt his teeth’s slight scraping and his tongue’s lashing, then the strong, even pull.

And she knew blinding, instant fear.

Sensation was pulling away her defense. Pulling away her safety. Pulling away the facade of her success and competence. Pulling away the pretense that she was over Walker Riley.

“Walker...no.”

She couldn’t have gotten out any more than that. If he’d ignored it, she would have crumbled into his arms, unable to resist the pull.

But he heard.

And he stilled. Along with her heartbeat, through tortured seconds, with his mouth on her, with her flesh carrying the imprint of his touch, with the power of him under her hands.

He sat up, away from her, with an abrupt jerkiness so unlike his usual slow grace.

“Walker, I...” Tears burned bright hotness behind her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall.

There was nothing she could say.

There was nothing he would say.

In silence, with a return to his usual measured pace, he put his hat on, angling it low, then stood.

He watched her, without a word, without a readable expression on his face, as she adjusted her clothing. She overruled the temptation to turn her back on that unnerving regard as cowardly. Her fingers felt numb and clumsy, but she buttoned her blouse at last, and stood, too near him in the limited space of their rock balcony. To hide her hands’ unsteadiness, she brushed industriously at the dust on the seat and back of her jeans.

He made no move to button his shirt or stir the dust that clung to his clothing, but waited, watching and silent, until she finished, as the sun slipped completely behind the mountains. Then he simply nodded for her to precede him up the natural stairway.

Finally, a yard short of the vehicle, he spoke.

“I’ll drive.”

She didn’t argue. She wasn’t sure she could negotiate that steep road down right now, anyhow. Not feeling so dizzy already from their intimate descent.

KALLI ENTERED THE
room the woman at the front desk had identified as Baldwin Jeffries’s with a bright smile. It sank to something near panic at its emptiness. Rushing out, she snagged a gray-haired nurse.

“Jeff—Baldwin Jeffries... No one’s in his room.”

The nurse consulted her utilitarian watch. “I expect he and Mary are still in the therapy room. He should be back in ten minutes or so, or you can go on down.”

By the time Kalli had followed the nurse’s directions, she felt considerably heartened. Jeff was already well enough to have therapy out of his room.

But her spirits dipped and she came to a sudden halt at the sight of Jeff struggling to stand by himself while a therapist and Mary watched. Kalli took an instinctive step to help him. Couldn’t they see how much trouble he had coordinating the movements of one side of his body? The left side, the side Mary had said had some paralysis.

Jeff and the therapist were too intent on the task to notice her. But Mary, facing the door, must have caught the movement. She looked up, started a smile, then switched to a slight, warning shake of her head. Kalli remained still.

Jeff laboriously straightened his spine, the aligning of each vertebra a seeming triumph of will. At last, to a murmur of praise from the therapist, he turned his head toward his wife. Mary smiled, a wealth of approval in her eyes. He slowly pushed back his shoulders to an approximation of his customary upright stance.

At the therapist’s quiet request, he shifted his balance, swaying a little before holding the line, then doing it again. Another quiet murmur and he put weight on both feet, though Kalli thought his left leg trembled.

When he reached the chair, Kalli let out a pent-up breath and wiped her damp hands down the sides of her jeans.

With the therapist commenting, praising, fine-tuning and preparing Jeff for a repeat, Mary slipped away without being noticed, snagged Kalli’s elbow and guided her out.

In the hallway, they hugged, then Mary reached up to take Kalli’s face between her palms.

“If you show him that face, Jeff will think the rodeo’s closed,” she said in gentle scolding.

“He just looked so...so unsteady.”

“He is unsteady,” Mary said flatly.

“But couldn’t that be dangerous? He might fall.”

“That’s not likely. They know what they’re doing here and they aren’t overly fond of having patients fall over. But it’s always a possibility.”

“It seems so dangerous.”

“So’s driving and flying and taking a shower and living in general.”

“Couldn’t they wait until he’s stronger—”

“This is how he gets stronger, Kalli, by pushing his endurance,” she said. “You’re seeing him at the end of a session, and that’s always harder. The way the therapist explains it, he’s reteaching his muscles—especially on that left side—to follow orders. He pushes beyond what those muscles learned last time, so they rebel and he has to work even harder to get them to do what he wants.”

An oath reached them through the open door. Not crystal clear, but most definitely Jeff’s voice.

Mary gave a wry smile. “He also gets testier at the end of a session. Wait here a minute.”

She returned in a moment and led Kalli to the stairs. “Annie keeps Jeff in line. Gradually, I’ll be doing that. We’ll let them finish the session and give him time to rest, then we’ll see him up in his room. He’ll be more himself.”

Mary led Kalli to a bench outside, in a corner protected by a wing of the building.

“Don’t let him see you so worried about him, Kalli.”

“I’ll try not to. It’s just... Isn’t he driving himself too hard?”

“I’d think someone gave me a fake Baldwin Jeffries somewhere along the line if he didn’t drive himself.”

Kalli gave a small smile. “What if he tries to do too much? What if he gets worn down? He’s already vulnerable. Don’t you worry?”

“Of course I worry, but I know Jeff, and I know how much he needs this. It’s not just so he can do things—he knows he’s not going to be striding around the way he used to, we’ve talked about that—but he has to prove to himself that he hasn’t been licked. That he can fight back and come out more than fifty-fifty.”

Mary took Kalli’s hand between both of hers before she went on. “And because I love that man, what he needs is what counts for me. When you love someone, really love someone, what they want and need is more important than your own wants and needs. It’s more important even than your worries and fears.”

“...ANNIE SLAVEDRIVER SAYS
trunk balance– Tell you she said I fastest from moving out of midline to standing without help?”

“No, you didn’t tell me that, Jeff.”

His words weren’t precise, he left some out and the weakness in the lower left portion of his face was apparent, but Jeff looked so much better after a half hour’s rest than he had in the therapy room, that Kalli felt great relief. And she positively basked in his enthusiasm.

Nothing could have healed her spirits better than a dose of Baldwin Jeffries.

“Told her—” he tapped his chest “—tough stock.”

“That’s true,” Mary said. “We were very lucky the stroke wasn’t worse.”

“Some here real bad shape,” Jeff said with a sympathetic shake of his head, as if he had no problems.

“The doctors say Jeff drifted in and out of a sort of light coma after the stroke. Once he shook that, they could see he’d come through better than they’d first thought.”

Mary exchanged a smile with her husband. From the weakness on the left side of his face, Jeff’s smile was slightly lopsided—reminiscent of Walker’s now.

Kalli pressed her knuckles to her suddenly tight chest.

“Wrong, Kalli?”

Jeff’s eyes certainly had regained their sharpness.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

“Probably heartburn,” Mary fussed. “You’ll have an ulcer if you’re not careful. All that stress you try to pretend you don’t have. Better to face it head-on than swallow it and let it eat up your insides. Is that New York office of yours pestering you? There never has been a time you’ve come out here for a rest and they haven’t called you every other day. Just keeping you riled up.”

“My office has called a few times,” she acknowledged. “But nothing I couldn’t handle from here.”

“Is it Walker? Is he giving you a hard time?” Mary demanded.

“No. Not…”

Not the way you mean.
But being around him was giving her a hard time with herself. Since they’d watched that sunset, he’d been polite, cooperative and more distant than when she’d been in New York. Gulch and Roberta had given her odd looks that kept her tensed for one or both to demand an explanation, though neither had to this point.

She became aware of the silence, and the questioning looks from Mary and Jeff.

“He’s working really hard,” she said quickly, “doing everything he can for the rodeo. I couldn’t ask for more cooperation these past weeks.”

Which was the crux of the problem. Whatever fragile truce they’d built had cracked, but he not only carried out his regular duties, he continued interviews—blandly insisting she still accompany him—and he encouraged everyone to look to her as the rodeo’s financial head. While Walker’s attitude and diligence pleased her for the rodeo’s sake, they also forced her to acknowledge he had changed.

“Rodeo?” Jeff jerked out the word in demand.

Kalli flicked a look at Mary. A frown tugged at her eyebrows, but the older woman nodded.

“Ticket sales have improved,” Kalli said. “Not to where they were before, but better than when people were worried it would fall apart without you two in charge.”

She tried to smile. Jeff watched her intently.

“Go ahead, Kalli, what’s the rest?” Mary asked, calm and even.

“If we stay at this pace, we’ll fall a little short of last year. That wouldn’t be bad, except...” She met Jeff’s look, consciously trying to bleed the concern out of her eyes and voice. “I found the books, Jeff. I know you loaned money from the rodeo accounts to help people out.”

“Do it again,” he said doggedly.

“I know you would. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t have—except from a business standpoint. There’s no money coming in from those loans. In fact, I can’t find any record of a repayment schedule for any of them?”

She let it trail off as a question. Jeff simply looked at her, and she had her answer. There was no schedule, just a handshake between friends.

She sighed again. “There are virtually no reserves in the rodeo accounts to tide it over until next season. You know as well as I do, you need cash to get started the following season. I’m sure you could have produced enough revenue running the rodeo yourself to take care of that. But I’m not sure we can. Especially not with that dip in ticket sales when Walker and I first came. And what if we can’t get them back to their previous level?”

“We’ll take out a loan.”

Kalli had been so intent on Jeff’s reaction that Mary’s pronouncement caught her off guard. “I’m not sure, with the management of the rodeo in doubt, that a bank would give the rodeo a loan.”

“We’ll get a personal loan. Or mortgage the ranch.”

Kalli vowed right then that she would not permit these two people to take on that kind of debt at an age when they should be contemplating easy-living retirement. Even if she had to sacrifice the Park Rodeo.

But she was too wise to voice that resolve. “Before we borrow that trouble—or any money—let’s see where we are at the end of the season.”

Mary nodded in approval. Jeff considered her a moment longer, then spoke slowly, spacing his words with care.

“You and Walker will take care of it.”

“Yes, we’ll take care of it,” Kalli agreed. She felt compelled to say it again, more clearly, with greater emphasis. “Walker and I will take care of it.”

“AND WHAT ABOUT
groups that maintain that rodeos are cruel to animals?”

Kalli went ramrod stiff, knowing how seriously Walker took his responsibility to care for his animals, and what he thought of those who didn’t.

And this TV taping had been going so well... The young woman interviewer had been enthusiastic, insisting she and her crew come to Park to tape on-site. The cameraman and reporter had followed Walker around for most of the night’s rodeo. Now they’d been sitting nearly half an hour in the cleared stands, with lights glaring on Walker and the woman.

The reporter made it clear only a tiny fraction of this tape might ever see the light of day, but she’d also mentioned the possibility of a feature on her network’s all-night news show. Seeing the ambition and determination in the woman’s eyes, Kalli had felt hopeful.

Until now.

“I mean, with the straps used to make them buck—”

“You watch the animals and you’ll know different. They buck because a man’s on their back and they’ve been bred to it. If it was only the strap, why would they stop bucking when the man was gone but the strap was still there?”

“But these groups do maintain that rodeos constitute cruelty—”

“Baldwin Jeffries has never been cruel to an animal in his life and never tolerated anybody who was, and that’s the way he taught me.”

“But you would have to admit that not all rodeos are operated on the same high level as yours.”

“As the Jeffrieses’,” he corrected.

“As the Jeffrieses’,” she agreed.