The Love of a Lawman, The Callister Trilogy, Book 3 (27 page)

"Oh, no, you don't. You're not gonna escape without kissing me." He took off his hat, darted his head through the open window and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

She giggled like a silly girl. "John, you're going to get us in trouble."

"So, Miz Rondeau," he said, drawing back from her window and resetting his hat, "what kind of a story am I supposed to tell if somebody asks me what's going on between me and Isabelle?"

She smiled, masking her apprehension about the subject. "You're supposed to say, 'Isabelle Who?'"

John was still standing there grinning like a goose as she put the truck in reverse and drove away. Damn his cowboy charm anyway.

* * *

Back in his office, the date circled on the calendar caught John's attention. April 1, a day past the mental deadline he had set to hear from Julie about travel arrangements for his sons' impending visit. Since he had reminded her that he expected her to live up to the agreement she had made, he had heard nothing. Imagine that. April Fool.

In California it would be two thirty. Julie should be home. He sat for a few minutes, drumming a pencil on the desk blotter, working past the dread of calling her. When he thought he had readied himself, he stood up and closed his office door, then dug her phone number from his wallet.

"I don't know yet," she said when John questioned her about preparations for Trey and Cody to travel. "Carson hasn't said."

"Julie, this isn't up to Carson. And this is the only phone call I'm gonna make."

"Are you threatening me?"

Her voice sounded giddy and uptight and John couldn't figure out why. When had she ever been afraid of him?

"Nope. Just telling you the facts and giving you time to get their stuff ready. School's out the end of May. I'll be there on June first."

"That could be a big mistake, John. Carson still hasn't gotten over what you did—"

"Cut it out, Julie. I'm coming to get my kids on June first. And Carson can kiss my ass."

* * *

John arranged an appointment for Luke McRae and his wife to come on Thursday afternoon to look at Dancer and Isabelle worked herself into a frenzy. She had dealt with a multitude of millionaire horse owners and breeders and not been nervous. In the Texas cutting-horse world, Isabelle Rondeau was a horse handler who could correct the seemingly uncorrectable in the unruliest of animals. Knowing her name meant something gave her boundless confidence.

This was different. In Callister, Idaho, she was an immoral runaway and the redheaded, freckle-faced, dumb-as-a-fence-post daughter of a drunk. The locals couldn't care less what she had accomplished two thousand miles away.

John showed up early to help her. He seemed to sense her anxiety and as they curried Dancer he tried to calm her with overblown but reassuring words—what good shape the horses were in, how well trained they were, how impressed Luke would be when he saw Dancer. The efforts were clumsy, but they endeared him to her all the more.

As for Dancer, he seemed to know he was the horse of the hour. He strutted and stamped around the corral.

Luke came soon after lunch, accompanied by the woman Isabelle had heard the Callister grapevine discuss as the brainy half-Asian beauty from Texas who had put a halter on the elusive Luke McRae. According to gossip in Betty's Road Kill, Dahlia's entrance into the McRae clan had changed all of them as much as it had changed Luke. Claire McRae, Luke's mother and the Double Deuce's matriarch, had stepped down and totally turned management over to Luke and his new wife. That fact alone gave Dahlia revered status among Callister's citizens.

The thought of meeting this perfect, powerful woman made Isabelle as anxious as having Luke come to look at Dancer.

Luke parked in John's usual place, walked around to his truck's passenger door and held his wife's arm as she scooted out. "Careful, now," he cautioned as her feet touched the ground, his tone gentle and solicitous. It appeared indeed that Dahlia had turned the edgy Luke McRae into a kinder, gentler man.

She smiled up at him, then moved from behind the truck door. She looked ten months pregnant.

"This is my wife, Dahlia," he said.

Isabelle hadn't seen Luke since school. When she was a sophomore, he had been a senior. Still, in a high school population that totaled fewer than a hundred, she had known him. Rich, good-looking and reckless was the description that came to her mind. She had forgotten that he, too, had red hair and freckles.

He looped his arm around his wife's shoulder and looked down at her with pride and an affection that seemed to have a life of its own. He placed a large hand on her huge stomach and said, "And this is Corazon."

Dahlia laughed and covered his hand with hers. "Corazon Matilda McRae. An interesting mix of cultures, don't you think?"

Everyone laughed with her. Isabelle felt an immediate affinity with the black-haired woman. They had to be roughly the same age. "Are those family names?"

"My mother's name. She was Filipino. And Luke's paternal great-great-grandmother's. We're going to call her Cory."

"My daughter and I are both named for grandmothers," Isabelle said. "French-Canadian. When are you due?"

"Next week, but I look like it could be any minute. That's why I wanted to come and meet you while I have the chance. I heard you've been living in West Texas. I'm from a little town named Loretta. My best friend still lives there."

"Oh, I've heard of it. Do you miss it?"

"I miss a few of the people, but living at the Double Deuce makes me feel like I've come home after a long journey. It's strange. I have a hard time explaining it."

As John led Luke toward the corral, a conversation ensued between Isabelle and Dahlia about Texas places and people. Taken by the warmth and gentleness she sensed in the woman, Isabelle asked her if she, too, wanted to look at Dancer.

"Of course," Dahlia said. "John told us he's blue."

"Well, he is, sort of. He's a blue roan, which is a rare color. Really, the color is a deep gray, but it's mixed with white hairs, which gives a blue tint." They strolled toward the paddock where Dancer had been penned.

"Why, he's beautiful," Dahlia said on a caught breath.

Isabelle put her hand on Dahlia's arm. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Dahlia's hand splayed on her stomach. "There almost isn't enough room for this baby and my lungs."

"If she doesn't come next week, will they induce?"

"Oh, she'll make it. If she doesn't, Luke's promised to take me for a ride on a rough road. And Granny McRae wants to feed me castor oil."

"Blech,"
Isabelle said and they laughed together.

"Is this a Texas horse?" Dahlia asked, peering through the pole rails at Dancer.

"Yes. I've had him since he was born. He's a love. He's one of my best friends."

"John says you have a gift with horses, that you can communicate with them."

Isabelle had wondered what John might tell others about her skill and occupation. She gave Dahlia a look. "Really? He said that?"

"That's what he told Luke."

Isabelle couldn't stop a huge smile. "He's probably partial."

"You and John are together?"

Words escaped Isabelle for a moment, but she bolstered her courage. "Well... yes, I suppose we are."

"You look like you fit."

Isabelle smiled again, feeling a tiny pride in saying John Bradshaw was her man. "I guess that's good, looking like you fit with someone."

"I think so. I think I fit with Luke. We're both tall and sort of lanky. He's light and I'm dark, so we contrast. We made a very handsome son. Luke calls him a good cross."

Isabelle laughed. "Like in cattle, huh?"

"The first time I heard Luke say that, I was insulted, but later I realized, coming from him, it was a compliment."

"John didn't mention that you and Luke have a son."

"We have a houseful of kids. Luke's three from his former marriage, then our son, Joe. He's a three-year-old magpie."

Dahlia's openness made Isabelle feel even more at ease.

"Oh, look. He's impressed," Dahlia said, catching her breath again and veering her attention to her husband. They watched Luke make a circle around the stallion.

"How can you tell?"

"See how he's pinching his lower lip with his thumb and finger? He does that when he's either really interested in something or worried about it."

Isabelle lifted her chin. "Ah, I see. Well, I'm glad he's interested."

As Luke moved around the corral, Dahlia's eyes followed him. "You knew my husband when he was a teenager, didn't you?"

"Not very well. He was a couple of years ahead of me in school. I remember, though, he always seemed to be in charge of things."

A laugh burst from Dahlia. "I can well imagine. He's that kind of person." As Luke and John walked toward them, Dahlia's gaze lingered on her husband. "He's so strong and so smart."

"Wow," Isabelle said, realizing she could say the same about John. "What nice things to say about him."

"Isabelle," Luke said, approaching them, "that's a helluva horse. Go ahead and hit me with it. How much are you gonna want?"

Isabelle's horse-trading experience kicked in and she began to talk breeding fees with Luke. He wasn't interested in paying for artificial insemination at first, but Isabelle stood her ground. He listened to her arguments and relented, said he would deliver four mares to the vet's office. The conversation ended with a handshake and Isabelle assured him she would follow up with written agreements to be signed.

As Luke's arm slid around Dahlia's shoulder again, a gesture obviously meant to be both protective and possessive, she said to Isabelle, "After the baby comes, let's get together. I'll come to town one day and we can have lunch and talk about Texas."

Isabelle agreed. She had observed that no matter where Texans were placed or misplaced, they always wanted to talk about Texas.

As they drove away, Isabelle looked after them with an unexpected yearning. "They're really in love, aren't they?"

John's arm came around her waist and she looked up at him. For a few seconds his eyes locked on hers. She was sure she saw the same emotion in his eyes she had just seen in Luke's when he looked at Dahlia.

"Isabelle," John started, but she stopped him.

"Don't say anything, John. We aren't there."

His expression changed. What had almost fallen from his lips, what she saw in his face and what dangled unresolved within her was commitment.

"Then where are we?" he asked.

Fearing conversation could unweld the glue, she hedged. "I don't know, but this whole thing scares me. It's good between us right now. Let's leave it be."

He continued to look at her for a few beats and she couldn't turn away, either. Finally he picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. And just like that, a distant sense of a pact sealed came to rest within her.

Chapter 17

As they walked toward the house, Isabelle reached for John's hand. He interlocked their fingers and she relaxed in the warmth and security of being near him. "Thank you for helping me today."

"You don't have to thank me. I liked doing it. Just remind me to never get into a negotiation with you over money. I can't think of half a dozen people who could have squeezed that much out of Luke McRae for stud fees, especially when he started out not wanting to do AI."

"You probably can't think of half a dozen people who're as desperate as I am or who need it more than I do, either."

He planted a kiss on her lips. "Define 'it.'"

"Money, John. Money."

"Oh. I thought you were talking about something else." He grinned.

She punched him on the arm. "That, too."

He ducked down and kissed her again. "When's Ava coming home? I want to take you and her out for a steak dinner, up at the ski lodge. To celebrate a bunch of new foals sired by... what's his real name?"

"Pepto's Blue Dan. What if someone sees us?"