Palomino

7

“Aren't you going to ride Black Beauty this morning?”

For a moment she almost snapped at him as she swung a leg over Navajo and settled herself in the saddle, and then for no particular reason, she grinned at him. “No, I thought I'd give him a rest, Mr. Jordan. How about you?”

“I don't ride Thoroughbreds, Miss Taylor.” The green eyes laughed at her as his lively pinto danced.

“Maybe you should.” But he said nothing and rode off to lead his men into a distant part of the ranch. Their group was larger than usual, and today Bill King and Caroline were riding with them too. But Samantha scarcely saw them. She was too busy doing the job she had been assigned to do, and by now she knew that the men were beginning to accept her. They hadn't planned to, they hadn't really wanted to. But she had worked so hard and ridden so well, and hung in for such endless hours, and worked so diligently to save the orphaned calves, that suddenly this morning it was “Heyyyyyo! Over here… Sam!… Hey, Sam, dammit… right now!” No more Miss Taylor, not a single ma'am. She totally lost track of time and everything except her work and her surroundings, and it wasn't until dinner that night that she stopped to talk to Caroline again.

“You know, Sam, you're a marvel.” She poured a second cup of coffee for Samantha and sat back in the comfortable kitchen chair. “You could be in New York, sitting behind a desk, creating exotic commercials, and living in an apartment that's the envy of everyone you know, and instead you're out here, chasing cows, carrying sick calves, knee deep in manure, mending fences with my men, taking orders from men who have a fifth-grade education, getting up before dawn, and riding all day long. You know, there aren't many people who would understand that.” Not to mention the fact that she had once been the wife of one of the most desirable young men on TV, Caroline thought. “What do you think about what you're doing?” Caroline's blue eyes danced at her and Samantha smiled.

“I think I'm doing the first sensible thing I've done in a very long time, and I love it. Besides”-she grinned girlishly-“I figure if I stick around here long enough, I'll get to ride Black Beauty again.”

“I hear Tate Jordan didn't take too kindly to it.”

“I don't think he takes too kindly to me on the whole.”

“You been scaring him half to death, Samantha?”

“Hardly. As arrogant as he is, it would take a lot more than me to scare him.”

“I don't think that's the case. But I hear he thinks you can ride. From him that's high praise.”

“I suspected that this morning, but he'd rather die than say so.”

“He's no different than the rest. This is their world, Samantha, not ours. On a ranch a woman is still a second-class citizen, most of the time anyway. They're all kings here.”

“Does that bother you?” Samantha watched her, intrigued, but the older woman visibly softened as she grew pensive, and something very gentle veiled her eyes.

“No, I'like it like that.” Her voice was strangely gentle, and then she smiled up at Samantha and looked almost like a girl. In that flash of a moment it explained everything about Bill King. In his own way he ruled her, and she loved it. She had for many years. She respected his power and his strength and his masculinity, his judgment about the ranch and his way of handling the men. Caroline owned and ran the ranch, but it was Bill King behind her who had always helped run it, who silently held the reins along with her. The ranch hands respected her, but as a woman, a figurehead. It was Bill King who had always made them jump. And Tate Jordan who was making them jump now. There was something terribly macho and animal and appealing about all of it. It was a pull one wanted to resist as a modern woman, yet one couldn't. The lure of that kind of masculinity was almost too strong.

“Do you like Tate Jordan?” It was an odd, direct question, yet Caroline said it in such a naive way that Samantha laughed.

“Like him? I don't think I could.” But that wasn't what Caroline had meant, and she knew it, and now she laughed a little silvery laugh as she sat back in her chair. “He's good at what he does. I suppose I respect him, though he's certainly not an easy man to get along with, and I don't think he much likes me. He's attractive, if that's what you mean, but unapproachable too. He's an odd man, Aunt Caro.” Caroline nodded silently. She had once said almost the same things about Bill King. “What made you ask?” There was certainly nothing between them, nothing Caroline could have sensed or seen as she had watched them all work all day long.

“I don't know. Just a feeling. I get the impression he likes you.” She said it simply, as young girls do.

“I doubt that.” Samantha looked both amused and skeptical. And then she spoke more firmly. “But in any case that's not why I'm here. I'm here to get over being involved with one man. I don't need to cure it by getting involved with another. And certainly no one here.”

“What makes you say that?” Caroline looked at her strangely.

“Because we're all foreigners to each other. I'm a stranger to them, and I suppose in their own way, they're strangers to me. I don't understand their ways any more than they understand mine. No,” she sighed softly, “I'm here to work, Aunt Caro, not play with the cowboys.” Caroline laughed at the words she used and shook her head.

“That's how those things start though. No one ever intends…” For a moment Sam wondered if Caroline was trying to tell her something, if after all this time she was going to admit to an affair with Bill King, but the moment passed quickly, and now Caroline stood up, put the dishes in the sink, and a few minutes later began to turn off the kitchen lights. Lucia-Maria had long since gone home. Samantha was suddenly sorry that she hadn't encouraged Caroline to say more, but she had the impression that Caroline was anxious not to say anything further. Silently a door had already closed.

“You know, the truth of it is, Aunt Caro, that I'm already in love with someone else.”

“Are you?” The older woman instantly stopped what she was doing and looked stunned. She had had no inkling before that Samantha was already involved.

“Yes.”

“Would it be rude to ask who?”

“Not at all.” Samantha smiled at her gently. “I'm very much in love with your Thoroughbred horse.” They both laughed and bid each other good night a few minutes later. And tonight Sam found herself listening for the now familiar opening and closing of the front door. She was certain now that it was Bill King coming to spend the night with Caroline, and she wondered why they hadn't married if this had gone on for as long as she now suspected it had. Maybe they had their reasons. Maybe he already had a wife. She found herself pondering, too, the questions Caroline had asked about Tate Jordan and wondered why Caroline should suspect Samantha of being attracted to him. She wasn't really. If anything, he annoyed her. Or did he? She suddenly found that she was questioning herself. He was brutally handsome, like someone out of a commercial… like someone out of a dream. But he wasn't her kind of dream; tall, dark, and handsome. She smiled to herself, her mind instantly darting back to John Taylor… John with his glorious golden beauty, his long legs, his huge, almost sapphire-colored eyes. They had been so perfect together, so alive, so happy, they had done everything together… everything… except fall in love with Liz Jones. That John had done alone.

At least, she consoled herself as she pulled her mind willfully away from him again, she hadn't been watching the newscast. At least she didn't know how the pregnancy was going or have to listen to Liz thank another thousand viewers for little hand-knit booties and crocheted blankets or “darling little pink hats.” It had been almost unbearable, but she hadn't been able to stop watching the broadcasts while she was still in New York. Even when she worked late, she watched them. It was as though there were an alarm clock buried somewhere in her body that let her know when it was six o'clock and then forced her inexorably toward a television set so she could watch the program. At least here she hadn't thought of it in almost a week. And in another week it would be Christmas, and after she survived that-her first Christmas without John, the first time in eleven years that she wouldn't be with him-then she knew that she'd live. And in the meantime all she had to do was work from morning till night, follow the cowboys, spend twelve hours a day riding Navajo, find those little orphaned babies, and bring them back alive. And day by day, month by month, she'd make it. She was finally beginning to know that she would live. She congratulated herself again on the wise decision to come west as her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep, and this time along with Liz and John and Harvey Maxwell there were suddenly other people in her dreams too: Caroline trying desperately to tell her something that she could never quite hear; and Josh, laughing, always laughing; and a tall dark-haired man on a beautiful black horse with a white star on its forehead and two white socks. She was riding behind him, bareback, holding tightly to him as they raced along through the night. She was never quite sure where they were going or from where they had come, but she knew that she felt perfectly safe there as they rode along in perfect unison. And as she woke up with her alarm at four thirty, she felt oddly rested, but she couldn't quite remember her dream.