The Rogue (2 page)

“Fine, thank you.” Prickles of dislike crawled over her flesh, a feeling that intensified when Diana glanced at the Major.

“Is that your son?” The Major was looking beyond the new man, and Diana’s gaze followed.

“Guy, come here and say hello to the Major.” For all the quietness of Holt Mallory’s voice, it was definitely an order.

A nine-year-old boy stood beside the truck. Thin and pale, he looked lost and frightened. An attempt had been made to plaster down the cowlicks in his sandy blond hair, but it hadn’t been very successful.
Hesitantly and reluctantly, he came forward to limply shake the Major’s hand.

“How do you do, sir?” he mumbled.

The Major straightened and smiled. “He’s a fine-looking boy, Holt.”

Diana looked again at the young boy, trying to see what her father had found so “fine looking” about him, but she didn’t find it. He seemed a nondescript little boy, small and sensitive and frightened of his own shadow. Diana felt a surge of contempt for the boy’s lack of strength, but it was tempered by an inexplicable desire to protect.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be staying, Holt,” the Major announced, then turned to Diana. “You bring Guy along. It will give the two of you a chance to get acquainted.”

Diana had no desire to become better acquainted with the young boy. But, if it was what her father wanted . . . she concealed a sigh and reached for the boy’s hand. He hid it behind his back and Diana shrugged her disinterest.

“Come along, Guy,” she said and fell in step behind her father and the new man.

When the small boy trailed them, Diana slowed her pace to walk with him. She never had much to do with children, except those her own age in school. She glanced at the downcast eyes of the boy and tried to think of something to make conversation.

“Are you from Arizona?”

There was a moment of silence after her question. Diana thought she wasn’t going to get an answer. Then the pair of rounded blue eyes looked up at her.

“No. My dad lived in Arizona, but my mom and me lived in Denver.”

“Where is your mother?”

His bottom lip quivered. “She’s dead.”

“Mine, too.” Diana offered the information in polite empathy. “She died when I was four.” She stared at the man ahead of them, walking beside the Major.
“How come you lived in Denver and your father lived in Arizona? Were your parents divorced?”

There was an affirmative nod of the boy’s head. Diana didn’t blame the boy’s mother. She didn’t like the man, either, but she was surprised when the boy indicated a similar opinion.

“When my mother died last month,
he
showed up and said he was my father and that I was to live with him now.” There was a wealth of resentment in the boy’s tone.

“Do you mean you had never seen him before?” Diana frowned.

“My grandma and grandpa said he is my father, so I guess he is,” he admitted. “My mom told me that my dad went off and left her after I was born, because he didn’t want either of us.”

Remembering those hard, gray eyes, Diana could believe that. “If that’s the way he felt, why is he bothering with you now?” She spoke her thoughts aloud.

Little Guy Mallory seemed to flinch at the question. “He claims he always wanted me,” he answered skeptically, “but that my mother wouldn’t let him see me. But she would have. I know she would have.”

The defensive outburst on his mother’s behalf drew an assessing look from Diana. The boy might be sensitive, but he wasn’t completely meek.

“I’m sure your mother would have if he really wanted to see you,” she agreed. Poor kid, Diana thought, and spared a moment of pity that the boy had a father who didn’t want him. No wonder he looked so bewildered and frightened.

They were passing the stud pens where the Major’s prize Arabian stallions were kept. Breeding and showing purebred Arabians was one facet of the ranch’s operation. In addition to the thirty broodmares and their offspring, there were yearlings and two-year-olds, some being kept as show prospects and others being readied for sale. Plus, the ranch had a
remuda of working horses. The two Arabian studs were penned some distance from the other horses. The magnificent bay Shetan raced to the rail to whicker to his master. There was nothing unusual in that, but Diana noticed the wide-eyed stare the boy gave the horse. “Can you ride?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen a horse in person before, only on television and from the truck when we were driving here,” was his reply.

“You’ll see plenty from now on,” she said. “You can even learn how to ride while you’re here. It’s easy.”

“Is it?” His breathless voice made it seem as if she had just offered him the whole world.

“Sure.” Diana shrugged. “I’ll teach you.” And she immediately regretted the impulse that had made her volunteer. She didn’t want to spend her summer playing nursemaid to a green kid.

“Wow!” Guy Mallory was already erupting with joy, animation entering the previously strained features. “That’s terrific!”

His exuberant voice caught the attention of the two men pausing on the doorstep of the largest unit in the fourplex, the one that had stood vacant for more than a month. A smile softened the rough contours of Holt Mallory’s features as he looked curiously at his son, who was practically skipping with delight.

“What’s all the excitement about, Guy?”

“She promised to teach me how to ride a horse!”

A frown flickered across Holt Mallory’s face. “You never told me that you wanted to learn,” he said with forced lightness. Obviously, Guy had confided more in the few short moments with Diana than during the hours with his father.

“I do!” Guy declared. “And she’s going to teach me!”

“That’s very generous of Miss Somers, but there’s no need to trouble her. If you want to learn, Guy, I’ll teach you—that is, if the Major doesn’t object to us borrowing a horse.”

“I have no objections, Holt, but since Diana has offered to teach him, I think it would be a good idea to let her,” the Major insisted. “The ranch is going to be pretty busy for the next couple of months. Diana will have more free time than you will. And she will be good company for the boy, help him settle into his new surroundings.”

Holt Mallory didn’t look pleased with the logic of the Major’s argument. “That’s true,” he admitted and leveled a steel look at Diana. “As long as you don’t mind, it’s all right with me.”

“I don’t mind,” she lied.

“Great!” Guy exclaimed. “I’d rather have her teach me, anyway.” The boy missed the sudden flexing of muscles along his father’s jaw, but Diana noticed it. So did the Major. “When can we start?” questioned Guy. “Today?”

The Major smiled. “Not today. Your father is going to need your help unpacking and settling into your new home. Here’s the key, Holt.” He handed it to him. “Diana and I will leave the two of you to explore the place on your own. If you need anything, or have any questions, I’ll be at the house most of the day.”

“Thanks, Major.”

Diana wondered if Holt Mallory was thanking him for the job or for smoothing over the awkward moment. It didn’t really matter which it was. She turned with her father and walked to the main house.

They were nearly to the porch before she remarked, “You never mentioned that you had hired a new man.”

“Didn’t I?” he replied absently, his thoughts elsewhere. “It must have slipped my mind.”

“He doesn’t want the boy.”

The Major stopped to stare, now giving her his undivided attention. “What put that idea in your head?”

“Guy told me.”

“The two of you did quite a bit of talking on that short walk.”

“Enough to know that man is virtually a stranger to him. Guy never saw him until his mother died. He deserted both of them when Guy was just a baby.”

“It isn’t quite as cut and dried as that, Diana. Guy’s parents were barely sixteen when they married. It was one of those ‘have to’ things. They were simply too young, and like a lot of teen-aged couples, they couldn’t make it work. After they separated, his wife left Arizona with the baby. Holt never heard from her again until her parents notified him of her death. It wasn’t a case of not wanting to see his son. Holt didn’t know where he was.”

It sounded plausible, but Diana preferred Guy’s version. “I don’t like him,” she stated.

The Major frowned. “It isn’t like you to make snap judgments.”

“I don’t like him,” she repeated.

“You’ll change your mind. He’s excellent with horses and has a working knowledge of cattle. More than that, he has management potential.”

“Management? Why is that so special?”

“I’m not getting any younger. In a few years, I’m going to need somebody to run the ranch, take some of the load off my aging shoulders. Holt is going to need a few more years of seasoning. If my instincts haven’t failed me, he’s going to be a good leader someday.”

Diana made no comment. She knew that if she had been a boy, the Major would have been thinking about turning the ranch operation over to her in a few years instead of to a stranger. The knowledge hurt. The summer ahead didn’t look as pleasant as it had before Holt Mallory arrived.

Entering the house a step behind her father, she followed him through the living room to the connected dining room. The furnishings in the house were austerely male, arranged in precise order. Everything was comfortable, yet very utilitarian. The table was set for morning coffee, a daily routine in the Somers’ house.

As the Major pulled out a chair at the head of the table, the housekeeper came from the kitchen carrying a pot of freshly brewed coffee and a plate of homemade doughnuts. Sophie Miller was a gaunt, unprepossessing woman. Although she was only in her late forties, her brown hair was salted with gray and severely styled in a crown of braids atop her head. Widowed for many years and childless, she had lived on the ranch for the last six years as the Major’s housekeeper. She was a drab person, doing her work without ever drawing attention to herself.

Diana sat in the chair to the right of her father. Ever since she could remember, she had always joined him in this morning break, actually drinking coffee from the time she was eight. Father and daughter shared almost everything together. This was not one of the times that Diana sat back and enjoyed it. She was still disturbed that the Major had failed to inform her that he had hired a new man. She was also bothered by the way he had so casually dismissed her dislike of this Holt Mallory.

Coffee was steaming from the Major’s cup as Sophie filled the cup in front of Diana. The Major had unfolded his napkin and laid it across his creased trousers. He glanced at the plate of doughnuts and smiled at Diana.

“Chocolate, your favorite, Diana,” he commented and received a disinterested nod from her. “Sophie made them especially for you.”

The quietly prompting statement shook Diana out of her silent contemplation. “Thanks, Sophie.” She tossed the words indifferently over her shoulder, and the housekeeper smiled briefly in return, having learned not to expect more from Diana.

To Diana, Sophie was merely one of a series of housekeepers who had gone in and out of her life. Sophie had simply lasted longer than the others. Most of them hadn’t liked the isolation of the ranch since it prevented them from seeing family and friends. Sophie
had no family and, apparently, few friends, so the job suited her.

Diana had no interest in the housekeepers. Her life centered around the Major. The housekeepers were faceless souls who worked for him. She had never formed an attachment to any of them. There was only her father. What interested him interested her. At the present, he had shown an uncommon interest in the new ranch hand. And Diana did not like it.

Over the next few weeks, her first impression of Holt Mallory didn’t change. He was polite to her. He treated her with the respect due a boss’s daughter, yet never with the indulgent affection the other ranch hands expressed. To the others, she might be the darling, the pet of the ranch, but not to him.

As for Guy, he had virtually become her shadow, whether Diana liked it or not. Most of the time she didn’t, although there were moments when his almost worshipful attitude soothed her ego.

This was not one of those moments. As she walked swiftly to the stud pens with Guy trailing at her heels, she fervently wished he would get lost—permanently.

“Can’t I ride with you, please?” He repeated the request she had turned down seconds ago. “I’m getting good. You said so.”

“No! I’m going to exercise the stallions.” Something she did regularly in the arena, a safe distance from the broodmares and potential trouble. “I’ve told you and told you that you can’t ride your mare with me when I’m on one of the studs.”

“Why not?”

Diana flashed him an irritated look. “Hasn’t your father told you anything about the birds and the bees?”

Guy blushed furiously and fell silent, but he never left her side. At the pen, he peered through the rails as Diana climbed over the top, a bridle draped over her shoulder. The bay stallion danced to her, knowing the routine and eager to stretch his legs.

“If you want to make yourself useful, Guy”—there was a faintly acid ring to her voice as she slipped the bit into the stallion’s mouth—“go get the saddle out of the tack room for me while I work Shetan on the lounge line.”

“Okay.” He darted off, eager to do her bidding.

When he returned, it was without the saddle and not alone. Diana glanced around to see Holt Mallory walking behind his white-faced son. She flicked him a dismissing look and turned to Guy.

“I thought I told you to bring the saddle.”

“I—“

“What do you think you are doing, Miss Somers?”

There was something in the quiet way he put the question that set her teeth on edge. She stopped the circling bay cantering around her on the lounge line and faced him. She was every inch the boss’s daughter looking at a mere hired hand.

“I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

“Guy tells me you are planning to ride that stallion.”

“I am.”

“Does the Major know?”

“Of course, he knows,” Diana retorted indignantly.

“He must be out of his mind to let a slip of a girl like you—”