To Wed a Rancher (11 page)

Pitch it all,
she heard Shane saying. But…

Gathering up her find, she went in search of Shane and found him repairing an overhead light in the tool-shed. He was standing on a ladder, his arms over his head, the muscles in his back beneath his white shirt tensing with his movements.

For a moment she just watched him…until she realized that she was looking like some ridiculous plain-Jane schoolgirl salivating over a boy who would inevitably never notice that she was even in the room.

She cleared her throat, loudly.

And Shane hit his head on the light fixture. A string of low curses dropped from his mouth and he turned around.

Heat traveled up from her toes, making all of her feel…hot. Very hot. She knew she was blushing. Horrid habit. Why couldn't she just control her body's reactions to the man?

“I'm so sorry,” she said. “I startled you.”

“Don't apologize. You were just trying to let me know you were there. I'm the one who swore the air blue. I'm the one who's sorry.”

Then he smiled, and her inner schoolgirl emerged again. She held out the box mutely.

His smile disappeared. He came down from the ladder slowly.

“Where did you find this?” he asked.

“Buried in the hallway closet. It must have been in there a very long time. The colors on the packages
are faded. I know you told me to throw everything in there away, but this seemed…special. The box is very pretty, unique, probably expensive. And the seeds…” The seeds interested her more than the box. “There are so many of them, and there are these wonderful planting charts with comments like ‘Phlox reminds me of home,' or quotations by Wordsworth like ‘Daisies: The Poet's Darling' scribbled in the margins of the charts.”

She stared up at him, waiting for him to tell her about this treasure, because it was obvious that he knew what it was. But the look in his eyes…was it pain? Was it remembrance? “Were these yours?” she asked. “Or…?”

“My mother's. I remember her planting a garden every year. She could never have enough and always tried to cram too many into the space she had plotted out. If a frost came she would run out in the night and try to cover everything up. I remember my stepfather, Frank, chiding her for that. ‘Flowers aren't that important,' he told her.”

“But they are,” Rachel said. “Even if you're sad, a flower can cheer you up. Not that I know anything of gardens. I never had one. My mother…well, you know about my mother. She would be horrified at the thought of kneeling down in the dirt. And I was never in one place long enough to plant one of my own. There would have been no place for a garden, anyway.”

“Rachel…”

“No. That was bad of me. That sounded self-pitying and I'm not. I hate that kind of thing. It makes me feel small and icky. Besides, flowers are everywhere. I've had my share.”

“From men?” Shane was wearing that smoky look again, the one that made it hard to breathe…or talk.

She gave him a haughty look. “I—I don't need a man to give me flowers,” she managed to say. “They were mostly from me to me. Those count.”

“They do. They count a lot.”

She glanced down at the box. “This was your mother's. Not like the other stuff in the closet. What should I do with it?” She held it out to him. “You should keep it. Seriously. Just this one thing.”

He placed his hands over her own, shook his head and slowly restored the box to her arms. “No, I want you to keep it. Please.”

“But it's special. It's your mother's.”

“It
is
special. And my mother would have liked it to be used by a gardener. When you get to Maine and find a bit of land, plant your own garden. The seeds won't grow. They're too old. But you'll fill the box with your own. That's a much more fitting end to it than sitting on a shelf in my apartment or hotel room. And someday you'll have flowers.”

But the very next day she had flowers. Several vases of them arrived. When she approached Shane to thank him, he looked sheepish. “Have to have flowers for an open house,” he said.

“You're a softie, Shane Merritt,” she said. “You know these won't last that long. You just did this because I told you I hadn't had any flowers from a man.”

“I did it because I can't believe what a low class of men you must have been hanging around with if none of them sent you flowers.”

She smiled. “Well, I've obviously met a higher class of man now.”

He scowled. “No. You haven't. This was bribery, pure and simple. Now, let's get back to work.”

She did, but several times that day she stopped to
bury her nose in the flowers. She tried to remind herself that these weren't special. Shane had surely sent flowers to many women. And would again long after all she had left of him were memories.

Her heart hurt. She really needed to think about the future.

Soon.

 

Rachel wandered through the next few days in a fog of gratitude and pain and regret. She had finally taken Shane's suggestions to heart and had enrolled in an online class. It was a small start, but maybe it would be something to look forward to when she was tempted to look back to her days on the ranch. That was the gratitude part.

For the rest…

“He's not coming, is he?” Ruby asked one day. “Let's face it. He's going to leave here and never come back and we'll never see him again.”

“Ruby…” Rachel said, her heart breaking for the woman.

“I know he has a good life and a good business, but…I don't know. You watch a child grow up and become a man, you have a part in his life, and… I don't have any children of my own. I never married. So the children in town are the closest I'll ever get to having my own. I know I'm not the only one, either. It was awful when Eric died. He was so young. He'd been engaged, but he'd barely become an adult. He didn't leave us by choice. Shane's refusal to interact with us…it feels a lot like rejection,” Ruby said.

Rachel's throat was closing up. She'd been dealing with the reality of leaving Shane for days, maybe ever since she'd come here. And, no matter how much she
wanted to deny it, she'd developed feelings for him. Feelings she was doing her best to shut out. She had no choice. She wasn't free to care. A man like Shane, who had told her from the first that he liked his life unfettered…falling for a man like that would be like ripping your own heart out voluntarily.

But Ruby…wonderful, warmhearted, fun and funny Ruby, who seldom was serious…to see her this way…

And Shane…whatever was keeping him from people like Ruby had to be something that hurt him badly. She knew he wasn't a man who would harm someone uncaringly.

Swiping her hand across her eyes hastily lest Ruby see the tears that threatened to fall, Rachel made a resolution. One way or another she was going to confront Shane about the way he was ignoring his neighbors and ignoring his own history. And punishing himself, she supposed, for youthful indiscretion.

And if he fired her…

She took a deep breath.
Well, I'm going anyway,
she reasoned. But she didn't want to think about that. Like everyone else, she wanted every last drop of time she could get with Shane.

Still, she would take the risk. He wasn't going to be happy about her intrusion into his life again.

Too bad.

 

Rachel sat at the kitchen table waiting for Shane to come in for dinner. Her stomach felt as if a million miniature gymnasts were staging a show, doing cartwheels and handstands and stealing all of her air. She had waited until this late hour so that there would be time, but she didn't relish making Shane angry; the fact that he was late only added to her nerves. Why was he
late? Shane was not a man who showed up late with no explanation. She remembered his lecture about the dangers of ranching.

The phone rang loudly, startling her. “Rachel?” he yelled as she picked it up.

“Shane, what's wrong?” His voice was strained, and she could hear air whishing past, so he was moving fast as he talked. He was incredibly late for dinner. Fear lurched through her.

“I'm not coming in.” He sounded as if he was running. “Rambler's hurt. I—does blood make you faint?”

“It never has before.”

“Good. The vet's on another call, Tom's on the outskirts of the property, Hank's getting over a cold and I'd rather not risk any more infection here. Meet me at the barn.”

She didn't hesitate. She just ran, her legs pumping fast as she entered the barn to find Shane already there examining the horse with gentle yet persistent movements. At the sound of her entrance, he rose.

“You need to wash up,” Shane told her. He gestured to a sink and soap and began to scrub his hands. “I won't need you to do more than hand me things, but I don't want any extra germs.”

Rachel did as he said. She glanced at Rambler, who was clearly in distress, and at Shane's tense expression. “Tell me what you need.”

“Saline first. Some sterile gauze, bandages and disinfectant.” He grabbed the saline and moved off toward the horse, clearly expecting her to follow. She scrambled to locate the other supplies and hurried over to where he was kneeling, next to the frightened and quivering animal.

“Shh, boy. How'd you do this, anyway? Were you
dreaming of some pretty little filly and not paying attention to where you were going? It's okay, Rambler. We all get hurt now and again.” As he spoke, his words soft and low and soothing, he gently washed the wound with saline, pressing his body against the horse's, calming him. “But I'll make it right. You'll heal. You're going to be just fine, boy. I know it hurts, but we're going to do our best to make that better right away.”

As he spoke, he gestured to Rachel, who handed him whatever he was pointing to. He kept up the low, gentle conversation as he worked. “Just a little bit longer, boy,” he said, as he made the final wrap of the bandage. “I know this disinfectant doesn't smell pretty, like Lizzie, but it'll do the trick. Soon you'll be galloping off around the fields faster than ever. You'll play Romeo again. You'll be just fine.”

He stood, straightening to his full height and patting the giant horse's side. As he did, Rambler tossed his head just a bit. “Oh, already feeling a bit better?” Shane asked. “Or are you just showing off for Rachel?”

Rambler whickered weakly, just as if he was answering, and Rachel finally realized that she was standing next to a creature much bigger and wilder than Lizzie. But…what could she do? The animal was hurt. That had been a nasty cut.

“Will he really be all right?” she asked.

“He'll be sore for a few more days, but he should be fine. The wound looked bad because of the blood, but it wasn't deep. Thank you,' he said. “I didn't want to ask for your help, but I wasn't sure what I was dealing with when I first got here.”

“You're very good with horses, aren't you?” she asked. “You calmed him. He knew you'd take care of
him. There was something rather beautiful about the whole experience. The man caring for his horse.”

He shrugged. “Practice,” he said. “This was nothing.”

“Not to Rambler.” And not to her, either. But as her words trailed off, Shane finished up in Ramber's stall, peeled off his bloody shirt and began to wash off. The muscles of his chest were slick as he reached for a towel.

Rachel closed her eyes. When she opened them again, he was staring at her with a fierce expression. He has clearly seen her looking at him.

“I should go back to the house,” she said, her voice weak.

Shane nodded. And then he smiled that glorious dimpled smile. “I'll be right up. We can share a meal and celebrate your successful baptism as a veterinary assistant. Another notch on your résumé.”

He looked happy. But Rachel knew that he wouldn't be happy for long. She still had to do what she had sworn she'd do today.

S
HANE
was just taking his last bite of Surprise Casserole, or, as Rachel called it, Super Surprise Casserole, when he looked up to find Rachel watching him with worried eyes.

She'd been quiet throughout the meal. He was pretty sure he knew what the problem was.

“Rachel, I apologize for asking you to help me with the horse. I know you're a city girl, that you're not very comfortable with large animals and that Rambler's much bigger than Lizzie. Believe me, if there had been anyone else around I wouldn't—”

She had placed her hand on his wrist, and now those big brown eyes were looking at him as if she was going to tell him something very bad.

He'd seen that look in someone's eyes twice before in his life. “Something's wrong.”

“It's Ruby.”

His heart dropped like a rock in water. “She's sick? She's hurt? No, you wouldn't have waited to tell me that—”

“Shane, no. It's nothing like that. It's just…she's depressed and hurt that you would come here and then leave without seeing her. And she's not alone. I know that whatever happened here, whatever made you hate
this place so much is none of my business, but…I just can't leave this alone.”

“Did she ask you to talk to me?”

“She didn't have to. She told me that she had no children and you and Eric had been like her children. And…it's not just that. I know part of why you hate this place has to be tied up with your brother and that room. I just… You've done so much for me. You've helped me so much and I… Shane, I'll be gone in four days. You'll be gone. And I know I'm just your housekeeper, I don't have a right to your personal business, but—”

He rose from the table, knocking his chair over in the process. Anger washed over him. At himself. At how Rachel was trying so hard to help him, to help Ruby and the others, and how he was mucking it all up. Again. As he had done before.

“You know you're not just a housekeeper. Damn it, Rachel. You just helped me bandage an animal that weighs ten times what you do. You've taken on tasks I know you had no interest in. You've befriended my neighbors.”

“I just don't want to overstep—”

“You're not. It's not your fault you've been driven to this. Come on. It's time.”

“Time for what?” Those big brown eyes looked uncertain.

“Time for several things. You're leaving in just a few days. So am I. But when you're gone I want you to take some memories. Some real ranch memories. And I want you to leave here knowing exactly what kind of man I am. Ruby plays me like some bad boy who's good at heart, but I'm not that guy.”

“Who are you, then?”

“I'm a guy who made some serious mistakes and I can't ever forget them or forgive myself.”

“Are we talking about Eric?” She looked toward the room.

Shane's heart hurt. His throat hurt. He knew the little-boy items that were in that room, pieces of his brother's past, baby pictures, so many things frozen in time. He just…couldn't do this here.

“Rachel, I need to be outside tonight, if you don't mind. Will you come with me? Will you…mind?”

To his consternation, she didn't hesitate. “I'll come.”

He frowned. “You should hesitate. Not follow blindly. I need to know that you'll be safe when I'm gone, not just walking into danger without thinking.”

“I was thinking. I was thinking that I trust you.”

He scowled. “See, that's a mistake right there. You call Ruby and you tell her that I'm taking you out to Settler's Creek, to the camp zone. And that I'll have you back bright and early tomorrow morning. That's called insurance, Rachel. You always let someone know where you're going. When you'll return. Will you do that?”

“Only because Ruby will worry if I don't.”

He wanted to swear, but he knew Rachel needed her independence. It was one of the things he loved about her.

That acknowledgment made him flinch. It wasn't her fault that he had done what he'd said he'd never do: fall in love. She would never know. He wasn't mixing another person up in his life, especially not Rachel, who was finally, finally, for once in her life, catching a break and on the road to realizing her dreams.

“Will you mind if we ride? I'll ask Tom to check in
on Rambler, but Cobalt needs exercise and Lizzie is always available for you.”

“I'll get ready,” she said, and soon they were on their way across the fields to the spot she'd once told him would be perfect for a cowboy fantasy.

But fantasies weren't on the menu tonight. Truth was. Rachel deserved truth. All of it. She'd been bleeding for his sin, trying to make things right with his neighbors, and he wasn't going to make her do that anymore.

When they got to the camp area he lifted her down from Lizzie and while he savored the chance to hold her in his arms, he didn't allow himself the kinds of thoughts he always had with Rachel. Instead, he spread a blanket and made a place for her to sit. Then he began to gather firewood.

“I can help,” she said, starting to rise.

“No. Not tonight. Tonight you're my cowgirl guest. You stare at the mountains and watch as the stars begin to come out.” He knelt by the cleared space and began to stack the wood.

“Shane?”

He looked up from his task. The last drops of sunlight were squeezing from the sky, and the fire-pink reflected back in Rachel's eyes. She looked more beautiful than ever, this tough-sweet woman. But she wasn't staring at the glorious sunset. She was looking at him. Was she trembling? Was he making her nervous?

“I'll keep the tale short,” he said. “And then for the rest of the night you can just enjoy the beauty of the sky. That is, unless you want to go home after you've heard my story.”

“In the dark?”

“I've got provisions and a lantern. I'd keep you safe.”

“I know you would.”

He breathed in deeply, wondering what he had done to deserve the appearance of Rachel in his life. But he already knew the answer to that. He didn't deserve her. He'd simply been lucky that day; he'd been blessed.

Now that was over. He'd had his turn. He reached for the last piece of wood, set fire to the kindling and waited for the flames to build. Then he took a place on the blanket, facing her. Not near enough to touch.

And he ripped off the bandage he had placed over his heart long ago. He began to speak.

 

Rachel realized right away that Shane had placed his back to the fire so that his face was in the shadows and hers was in full light. He'd made it clear that this was not a conversation that he relished. He was doing this because she'd asked. No, she'd needled, practically demanded. And as he began speaking, even though she couldn't see his expression, she could hear the change in his voice.

He was in pain. Real pain.

“My birth father was friends with my stepfather, and when my mother got pregnant and my father disappeared, Frank stepped in. He'd loved my mother from the first and eventually, when I was three, she married him even though she didn't love him. She did it for me, so that I would have security.”

“Because she loved you.”

“Yes. I don't think she would have agreed to the marriage otherwise. I was four when Eric was born, and eight when my mother died from an infected wound. One day she was there, the next day she was
dying. By then, it was obvious that Frank didn't like me at all. I was a symbol of the man my mother really loved. And I was also the healthy brother. Eric was frail when he was young and he followed me around everywhere. Everywhere.”

Shane's voice cracked a bit. He turned away slightly and waited until he had himself under control. “As she lay dying, feverish and weak and scared, my mother begged me to promise that I would watch over Eric. I think she had grown to loathe Frank, and she was afraid that a man who revered ranching and physical strength as much as he did would grow to hate his fragile son even more than he hated me. And by then she knew that I was the strong one. I was terrified and sobbing but I gave her my promise.”

Rachel couldn't hold back her murmur of distress. “You were just a child.”

He shook his head. “I was never a child. I had an attitude and a serious disregard for authority figures and rules. I learned to swear and spit, kick and bite, and ignore authority. But I took my responsibility to Eric seriously. And my little brother was my polar opposite. He was the friendliest, most lovable guy, like a big puppy or a very generous friend. He'd give you everything he owned if you'd let him, he'd lend a hand wherever it was needed and he surprised everyone by eventually shedding his fragility. He became an athlete, an outdoorsman, a true rancher, not an angry, spiteful math nerd who felt stuck on the ranch like I did.”

“In other words he became the son Frank wanted.”

“Yes.”

“And you were the troublemaker, the one who wouldn't fit the mold.”

“I was arrogant and angry at everyone, including my mother for dying, and especially at Frank for insisting he would turn me into a rancher or die trying. He hated the fact that I liked math and science more than raising cattle. I did anything I could to keep from doing the right thing…except where Eric was concerned.”

Rachel could understand Shane regretting his wild childhood, but…the other…the way he still flagellated himself and shut himself off long after his tormentor was gone…

“Did your stepfather beat you?” She heard the horror in her voice.

“No. That wasn't Frank's way. That might have brought strangers to our door, and Frank didn't like strangers. No, Frank was a man of words, slurs, derision. But in public, in the rare times we appeared together, he never said a word. No one ever knew what went on here, and if they did…it wasn't illegal. A man can tell his sons whatever he wants to tell them.

“The only thing was…as I got older my arguments with Frank became more heated, and more frightening to Eric, who hated conflict of any kind. The day I brought him to his knees, begging me to please just go to my room and let Frank bellow, I decided that it was time to go. I tried to tell myself that it was for Eric's sake, but the truth was that I felt trapped. By my life, by Frank and…”

He stopped, looked up, clenching his fists.

“You felt trapped by your promise to take care of your brother?”

“Yes. I told myself he was old enough, but he was only sixteen, and I know my leaving hurt him. Tore him up.”

Shane stopped again, trying to regain his composure. Rachel waited, silent.

“After that,” he continued, “I only saw Eric away from here, I'd ask him to come to my hotel. Once or twice I flew him out to where I was. But I had stopped watching over him. And then Frank died, and Eric truly was alone, but I still didn't come home.”

“How old was Eric then?”

“Twenty-two.”

“A man.”

“You wouldn't say that if you'd known Eric. He was a late bloomer, young for his age.”

“But a talented rancher and outdoorsman.”

Shane ignored that comment. “He met a girl, fell in love, got engaged. They were having a party. I was supposed to come, but I got snowbound and missed it. I sent flowers, and when the snow melted I just went back to work. The next day Eric went out to the field with the tractor to feed the cattle alone. He wouldn't have gone alone if he hadn't been upset with me. I'm sure of that. Eric was very safety conscious. And while he was pitching the hay to the cattle in a snow-covered field something went wrong. The tractor tipped and he was pinned beneath it. Crushed.”

“You blame yourself?”

“Of course I'm to blame. I left him alone at sixteen, living with an uncommunicative and sullen father. I ignored his life as if only mine mattered. I might as well have been driving that tractor that took him to his death, because
I
had always been the reckless one, not him. He learned that maneuver, that wildness, from me. Because I cared too much about myself to care about anyone else.”

“Is that why you avoid the people of Moraine? Be
cause they witnessed all of what you consider your sins?”

“Not because they witnessed them. Because they were my victims. I wronged them over and over, cared nothing for their feelings and then I took their brightest sun, the best that Moraine had to offer. Eric was the boy who took in stray animals, he served as a makeshift vet when the real vet was unavailable, he shoveled people out of the snow. He was the go-to guy when anyone needed a strong shoulder, the peacemaker. And I hurt him so much that he…he died. Rachel, he
died.
”

Rachel couldn't help herself then. She crawled across the blanket and wrapped her arms around Shane. She just held him while he wrestled with his demons. Silently struggling.

Eventually, when he seemed calmer, she looked up and kissed him on the chin. “The people of Moraine don't blame you, Shane, or if they ever did, they've forgiven you.”

He looked down into her face. “I know. I've known that all along.”

Oh, this was bad. This was difficult. “That's why you won't let them in? Because they've forgiven you but you haven't forgiven yourself? You don't want them to forgive you.”

“I don't deserve their forgiveness.”

Rachel didn't know what to say. She had spent a lot of time in her life learning how to deal with adversity and unhappy situations, loneliness, friends who could only be friends for the short term, but this was beyond her experience. And yet she couldn't let it go. This was Shane. This was…the man she cared for far too much, and it was impossible to leave things as they were.

“I know you loved your brother, Shane, but Eric was an adult. He made a choice.”

Shane didn't answer.

“If he loved you—and I'm sure he did—he wouldn't want you to be this way.”