A Wife in Wyoming (8 page)

A giggle and a smooching sound alerted her to what she would find at the end of the row. Leaning against a wall, Justino and Lena were locked chest to chest, hip to hip, kissing as if the world was about to collapse around them.

Which Caroline planned to make happen. “Ahem.” She stepped into the stall. “You two get lost?”

They broke apart, both breathing hard, red in the face. Neither of them answered her question. At least all their clothing was still in place.

Arms crossed over her chest, she stared them down. “You didn't mention your relationship when we were planning this experience. I imagine you thought you'd get to spend more of the summer together this way?”

Their guilty expressions confirmed her guess. “I understand that you care about each other and want to be close.” The memory of Ford's kisses flashed through her mind. Again. “But you know you're not here to make out, right?”

With hangdog nods, the two teens agreed.

“And it's not cool to be crawling all over each other with everybody else around. I'm asking you not to act like boyfriend and girlfriend when we're in a work situation—only when you have time off. In private. Understand?”

Justino blew out a deep breath. “Yes.”

Lena wiped tears from underneath her lashes. “I guess so.”

“Not good enough,” Caroline told her. “If you can't follow the rules, I will have to send one of you home. Then you won't see each other for weeks.”

The girl gasped. “Okay,” she said, finally. But her resentment was evident.

“After you,” Caroline said, ushering them through the stall door ahead of her. “Let's find the others.”

They followed the sound of laughter to the feed room, where Dylan was explaining some details of horse keeping. “Thermometer,” he said, holding up that item. “Goes in under the tail.”

“Eww,” Becky moaned. “Not me. I won't be messing with horses' butts.”

Caroline saw one side of Ford's mouth quirk, as if he wanted to smile. He stood to the side, shoulder braced against the wall, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and one booted ankle crossed over the other—the quintessential cowboy pose.

Setting her teeth, she dragged her brain back to the conversation.

“Why does it have a string attached?” Lizzie asked.

Dylan tried to appear serious. “Sometimes the thermometer gets...um...sucked in.”

“Oh, gross.” Thomas groaned. “Just gross.”

The other kids made sounds of revulsion—all except Nathan. He hadn't said anything since introducing himself.

“You brand the cows. That's like being burned, isn't it?” Lena wrapped her arms around her tiny waist. “Doesn't it hurt?”

Dylan gave the question serious consideration. “For a while, maybe. But the cattle have thick hides. They scar up pretty quickly and forget all about it.”

“You
think
they forget.” Marcos stuck out his arm to show an ugly scar. “I got this when I was seven, running too close to the fire. I ain't forgot how bad it hurt. You don't have any idea what cows remember.”

“You saying you're not any smarter than a cow?” Thomas asked.

Marcos's fists came up. “I'm saying you're a—”

Ford straightened. “That's enough.” His quiet voice cut through the conflict. “Marcos is right—we don't know that branded cattle forget. But they graze, sleep and drink the same as unbranded animals, so we're assuming they're all right. Meanwhile, it's almost time for you all to get fed yourselves. Show up at the house in fifteen minutes, and lunch will be ready.”

“Yes!” With whoops and shouts, the kids rushed out, leaving Caroline and three Marshalls behind in the quiet of the barn.

“You'd think we'd been torturing them,” Dylan said. “They're a tough crowd.”

“The afternoon will be better. I hope.” Garrett wiped a hand over his face. “Food will definitely help. Excellent strategy, Ford.”

“Caroline made the schedule.” He nodded in her direction, but didn't meet her gaze with his own. “I'm just following instructions.”

She heard doubt in his voice. “We're off to a great start,” she insisted. “They'll be thrilled with the horses this afternoon. And they'll be cooking their first meal for dinner.”

“We can sit around the fire afterward, roast marshmallows.” Garrett nodded. “Then get them in bed because they'll be up early tomorrow for breakfast and their first riding lesson. It's all going to work out fine.”

“I hope you're right.” Ford headed for the feed room door. “If we're going to serve lunch, though, I'd better find out if Wyatt needs any help. I'll leave you three to herd the kids down to the house.”

His boot heels hit the floor with a solid thump as he walked away. Caroline glanced at Garrett. “How can he be so good with them and yet so dubious of their potential?”

Garrett waited for her to go ahead of him out the door. “As a lawyer, I guess he's seen the best and the worst kinds of behaviors.”

“And knows that both can exist in the same person,” Dylan added, following them.

Caroline couldn't restrain her protest. “These are kids!”

“Kids with issues.” He clicked his tongue. “Not angels.”

They came to the barn door and looked out. With the exception of Nate, the teenagers had gathered on the porch of the ranch house, taking advantage of the shade. And they were all focused on the phones in their hands, even Lena and Justino.

“But where is Nathan?” Caroline glanced over the area, from the door of the bunkhouse to the girls' cabin. “Why wouldn't he be with the rest of the group?”

“I'll check the bunkhouse,” Garrett said, and jogged in that direction.

Dylan headed back into the barn. “Maybe he got distracted by something in here.”

Hands on hips, Caroline surveyed the landscape again, searching for Nathan's thin figure. He was wearing a brown T-shirt, she recalled, which didn't exactly stand out in a landscape filled with brown and green. Where would he have taken off to? And why?

The barn sat at the top of a gentle rise, with the bunkhouse and cabin below it on the slope and the house even farther downhill. Caroline walked in the opposite direction, toward the broad landscape of golden plains that made up the Circle M Ranch. In the near distance she could see a bridge running over a rocky creek bed shaded by cottonwood trees. On the other side of the bridge was a gate with fences on either side running as far as the eye could follow. In the days to come, the kids would be riding across those fields, enjoying the freedom and excitement of the range. She couldn't wait to share the pleasure with all of them.

Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. To her left were the horse corrals behind the barn, where a colorful herd milled around, nosing the dirt, sniffing the air and each other. Outside the fence, Nate stood so still he might as well have been a part of the enclosure rather than a living boy.

She went to join him. “Nice horses,” she said, as a greeting.

Nate nodded without taking his eyes off the animals.

After a couple minutes of silence, she took a guess. “Do you like horses?”

He nodded again. Finally, he decided to speak. “They're so graceful.”

“Have you ridden before?”

But Nate shook his head.

Caroline started to suggest they head toward the house for lunch, but as she opened her mouth, one of the horses walked toward them—toward Nate, specifically. It was a mare with a tannish gray coat that seemed almost blue, a color called grulla. She stopped in front of the boy and stuck her nose over the top board of the fence, seeking him out.

Nate smiled and put his hand to the soft muzzle stroking the mare's nose. In the time she'd known him, Caroline had never seen such a peaceful, contented expression on his face. Blinking hard to keep her reaction hidden, she didn't dare say a word as horse and human communicated in ways that didn't require sound.

Then she heard her name called from beyond the barn. She stepped close enough to set a hand on Nate's shoulder. “Ready to eat?” she asked quietly.

Blowing out a breath, he let his hand drop and turned, walking toward the house with slumped shoulders. Still standing beside Caroline, the grulla mare whickered.

“Is that ‘Come back' or ‘See you soon?'” Caroline asked. But like Nate, the horse ambled off. “Thanks so much for the vote of confidence,” she called after it.

“A friend of yours?”

At the sound of Ford's voice, Caroline jumped and spun around. “Oh... No, actually. I found Nate here, watching the herd.” She could feel heat in her cheeks and was sure she must look flushed and flustered.

“Yes, but when he appeared without you, we wondered if you'd thought better of this enterprise and run away.”

“Of course not. I was just coming.” She marched quickly past him, without checking to see if he followed.

But he came up beside her. “Were Justino and Lena making out in a stall?”

“How did you guess?”

“They got off the van holding hands. And the way they stare at each other...it wasn't too hard to figure out.”

“You're a lot better with teenagers than you advertise.” Caroline sighed. “I didn't realize they were involved. I hope it's not going to be a problem. We talked about how they're supposed to behave.”

“You're expecting kids this age to keep their feelings under control? It's hard enough for adults,” he added, his voice low and taut.

Struck by his intensity, Caroline stumbled over nothing and would have lost her balance completely if Ford's strong arm hadn't circled her waist. “Sorry,” she managed, flustered yet again. “I should watch where I put my feet.”

“Are you okay?” He hadn't let go of her yet.

“Sure.” She pulled in a deep breath. “Sure, I'm fine.” The kids on the porch were starting to look their way. Hard though it was, she stepped out of his hold. “Thanks. Let's get this lunch underway. Who's hungry?” she called, striding briskly to the house. She answered her own question. “Me, for one. Let's sit down and get some food!”

Holding the screen door for the kids to file through, she glanced back toward Ford, who was coming up the porch steps. Waiting for him, sharing another encounter on the threshold, would be the worst possible choice. Her heart still pounded from being so close to him before.

So she spun on her heel, stepped into the house and allowed the screen to slap shut practically in his face.

* * *

I
GET
THE
MESSAGE
, Ford thought, opening the screen door.
Hands off.

Served him right to have the door shut in his face, though, after putting his arm around her. He'd have to keep a better rein on himself, or Garrett would be out for blood. Next time, Ford decided, he'd just let Caroline fall.

Of course, he'd get hell from his brother for that, as well. Obviously, this was a situation in which he just couldn't win.

Tell me something I don't know.

Chaos ruled in the dining room, with kids reaching across each other for sandwich ingredients, chips or bread, all talking loudly and sniping at each other. Only Nate sat quietly. Dylan, Garrett and Caroline were pouring drinks and fielding complaints. Wyatt stood in the doorway to the kitchen, looking grim.

Ford remained unnoticed for about a minute. Then he put his fingers between his lips and sent out a shrieking whistle.

All noise, all motion, came to a halt. Every eye in the place was on him.

“This is a house, not a rodeo arena,” he told the teenagers. “Yelling at each other while you're inside is not allowed. Plant your butt in your chair and ask your neighbor to pass what you want along the table.
Please
and
thank you
are required. Be patient, and we'll make sure nobody starves to death.” He glared at each one of them in turn. “Got it?”

Most of them nodded. Justino said, “Geez. It's the food police.” Lena nudged him with her elbow, and he subsided. “Okay.”

Ford ate his own sandwich standing up in the kitchen with Wyatt. “Quite a crew,” the boss commented. “You have your hands full.”

“I believe I might have mentioned that when we were debating this craziness. Seven teenagers all at once is about six too many.”

“Yeah, but one kid on his own would get bored. This way, they keep each other company.”

“Terrific. We'll have one pair fighting, one pair necking and the other three providing commentary. Two of them, anyway. Nate doesn't talk, as far as I can tell.”

“I noticed the quiet one. Skinny, too. Maybe nobody cooks at his house.”

“Maybe.” He noticed his brother adjusting his stance for the third time. “How's your back?”

Wyatt lifted a shoulder in irritation. “I can manage to throw sandwiches together without falling apart.”

“You ought to lie down this afternoon. I'll take your brace off before we go out to the horses.”

His brother muttered under his breath but didn't swear loud enough to be heard. Ford just grinned at him.

Dylan came through the dining room door. “Thanks for laying ground rules. The rest of us were a little flummoxed, I guess. Good thing you're here, bro.” He punched Ford's arm before returning to battle armed with a full bottle of soda. Over his shoulder, he said to Wyatt, “You should lie down. You look tired.”

“If another person tells me to lie down,” the boss said through gritted teeth, “there will be bloodshed.”

Garrett leaned in from the dining room. “You about ready to set these guys up with horses? They're getting restless in here. Wyatt, you should probably—”

“That's enough.” The boss slapped his hand down on the counter. “I will thank the three of you to keep your ideas about what I should or shouldn't do to yourselves. I didn't ask for your interference, and I don't appreciate it.” He left the kitchen with slow steps not anywhere near his usual smooth stride. His bedroom door shut with a louder thud than might have been strictly necessary.