Palomino

11

Have a nice ride, dear?” Caroline looked at her benevolently as Samantha strode into the living room, her hair loose, her face flushed, her eyes bright. She looked like a vision of youth and health and beauty, and Caroline couldn't help envying her a little as she watched the young limbs coil into a comfortable chair.

“Very, thanks, Aunt Caro.” She was dying to tell her that she had seen their cabin, but she knew she couldn't. But still the excitement lingered. From that and the kiss she and Tate had shared in Black Beauty's stall. It had been a kiss that seared her very edges and reached into the nether regions of her soul. He was a man different from any other, more powerful and more independent and more alluring than any she had ever known or ever would.

“See anyone this morning?” It was a casual question, born of thirty years of almost communal living on a large ranch. Not a single hour went by that one didn't hang out with someone, talk about something, and hear something about someone else.

Sam had been about to say “No one,” and then decided to tell Caroline the truth. “I saw Tate Jordan.”

“Oh.” It was a very small word without any great emphasis or interest. “How is Santa Claus after last night? The kids sure enjoy him every year.”

Sam was tempted to say “So do I,” but didn't dare say it. “They should. He's a very nice man.”

“You mean you've relented? You don't hate him anymore?”

“I never did.” She tried to look casual as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “We just didn't see eye to eye over my ability to ride your horse.”

“And he's changed his mind?” Samantha nodded with a grin of satisfaction. “No wonder you like him. How heartily we approve of those who approve of us. He's a good man though, no matter what he may have said about your riding Black Beauty. He knows this ranch every bit as well as Bill and I.” Every bit… even the cabin, Samantha found herself thinking and had to take a sip of coffee so as not to smile.

“What are you doing today, Aunt Caro?”

“The books, as usual.”

“On Christmas?” Samantha looked shocked.

Caroline nodded dutifully. “On Christmas.”

“Why don't we have Christmas dinner instead?”

“As I recall,” Caroline said, looking at her with amusement, “we already did that last night.”

“That was different. That was everyone. Why don't you and I cook dinner today for Bill King and Tate?” Caroline eyed her very hard for a moment and then shook her head.

“I don't really think that would work.”

“Why not?”

Caroline sighed softly. “Because they're ranch hands, Samantha, and we're not. There really is a very definite hierarchy on a ranch.”

“Don't you ever have dinner with Bill?” Sam looked shocked.

“Very rarely. Only on state occasions, when someone gets married or dies. Only on nights like last night, at Christmas, do all the fences come down. The rest of the time, you are who you are, and they-they're careful to keep the fences up, Sam.”

“But why?”

“Out of respect. That's just the way it is.” She seemed to accept it, but it continued to annoy Sam.

“But it's all so stupid. What difference does the hierarchy make, for heaven's sake! Who cares?”

“They do.” Caroline's voice was like a splash of cold water. “They care very much, about form, about position, about who you are and the respect they feel they owe you. As a ranch owner, you're put on a pedestal by them, and they never let you come down. It's tiring sometimes, but that's the way it is. You have to accept it. If we invited Bill and Tate here today, they would be genuinely shocked.” But Sam found it hard to believe as she remembered Tate's earlier entreaties to sleep with him at the cabin. It hadn't occurred to her yet that that was different; it was private. It wasn't like having dinner together at the big house.

“Well, it still doesn't make any sense to me.”

Caroline smiled warmly at her. “It never did to me either, but I accept it now, Sam. It's simpler that way. That's just the way they are.” Was that the reason for the cabin, then? Because he was a ranch hand and she was something very different, the ranch owner? Could all the secrecy have been for something as simple as that? She was suddenly dying to ask her but knew that she could not. “There will be cold turkey dinners all day at the main hall, Samantha. You could go over there and chat with whoever's around. But I really have to work with Bill for a few hours in my office. I feel terrible about neglecting you on Christmas, Sam, but we have to get this done.” Caroline and Bill's single-minded purpose together, over all the years, had always been the ranch. But now Sam found herself wondering if they ever missed the cabin. They would have to. It was such a perfect place to hide out. She wondered, too, how long it had been since they had last been there, how often they had gone in the beginning, if they'd had it then… and she wondered, too, how soon she would go there again with Tate.

“I'll be fine, Aunt Caro. I have some letters to write. I'll go get something to eat at the main hall when I get hungry.” And suddenly she realized that she wanted to catch a glimpse of Tate again. It was as though he had got under her skin that morning and now she couldn't get him out. All she could think of was him, and his hands and his lips and his eyes…

But when she went to the main hall for lunch half an hour later, she found that there was no sight of him, and Josh mentioned to her casually when she saw him near the barn a few hours later that Tate had gone to the Bar Three Ranch, twenty-five miles away, to visit his son.