Cowboy Heaven (16 page)

All I had to do now was figure out what to tell Troy.

My supposition that he wouldn't be back might simply have been a figment of my imagination. He certainly hadn't said anything, and I considered it extremely rude to put him to the trouble of sneaking into my room in the middle of the night only to be told he'd been replaced.

Tacky, inconsiderate, if not downright mean.

He'd had his suspicions, of course—suspicions I'd done my damnedest to allay. I hated to admit to telling such blatant lies; although at the time, I hadn't realized I wasn't telling the truth. I was actually more mistaken than anything.

Still, Troy wasn't the sort to stay down for long. Case in point, the ease with which I'd resurrected him in the wake of his adventures on the way to Jackson Hole. I had replaced his previous girlfriend with no trouble at all. The trick now would be to find someone to replace
me
. The fact that I was the only woman around for miles made the night out with the guys more important than ever—although the evening probably wouldn't proceed according to my original plan.

I gave Dusty a kiss and left the bunkhouse before anyone else came in for the night. I would've liked to have heard him telling the others about the rattlesnake incident, but I didn't want the conversation hindered by my presence. No doubt Dusty would tell me what was said later on. I only hoped I'd planted enough suspicion in his own mind for him to pay close attention to their reactions.

Dad was napping when I got back to the house. After putting a chicken in the oven, I worked on the bookkeeping until my vision started to blur from staring at spreadsheets. I went back to the kitchen to finish the dinner preparations at around five thirty, and Dad shuffled in about the time it was ready.

I was pleased to note he didn't seem quite as tired as he had earlier. “Have a nice nap?”

“Sure did,” he replied. “Did you and the boy get that truck out of the thicket?”

“Didn't even try.” I wasn't about to touch the “boy” part of that question—simply wasn't in the mood. Besides, I was fairly certain he'd only said it to harp on his belief that Dusty was too young for me. “It was caught on some stumps. Might have to use the tractor to get it out. I'm sure Dusty will tell the others about it. They can get it tomorrow.”

“Shouldn't have to take time out of the fencing work for that.” He shook his head. “Still don't buy that rattlesnake story.”

I had to count to three before I could make even a remotely civil response. I set a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table next to the platter of baked chicken. “It isn't a story, Dad. It's the truth. Trust me, there was a snake. And the world won't end if the fencing project gets delayed another day.”

“Never had troubles like this when Cody was in charge,” he muttered as he took a seat. “Things around here have gone straight to hell.”

Dad never had liked the idea of me running the ranch, but this slam was even more pointed than usual.

Wait
for
it…

“You should act your age and quit mooning over those young boys,” he declared. “I still say Rufus is the best man for you. He wouldn't run off with some young girl the minute your back was turned.”

And
he
would
be
a
much
better
boss
than
you
are.

He didn't say that, of course, but I knew he was thinking it. This time, I took a deep, cleansing breath before I answered him. “Dad, tell me again why it's okay for me to marry Rufus, who is nearly twenty years older than I am, but it's not okay for me to marry a younger man.” I carefully avoided using Dusty's name, although it probably didn't matter. I'm sure he knew precisely who I was referring to.

“Because it's not natural,” he insisted. “That's just not the way it works.”

I dumped the green beans into a bowl and set them on the table. “Okay, men usually want younger women, I'll give you that much. But why is it so unnatural for an older woman to be with a younger man?”

“A younger man would want to father children, and you couldn't have them.”

Dad might've hit my main concern right on the head, but he'd missed the flip side of the argument.

I sat down and scooted my chair up to the table. “What makes you think an
older
man wouldn't want children? As far as I know, Rufus has never had any kids. He'd probably be tickled to death to have a twentysomething wife and a baby. Geez, Dad. To hear you tell it, I'm not much good for anything. Maybe I should just wander out into the desert and die like an old squaw.”

“I didn't mean that and you know it,” he grumbled. “Besides, who would take care of your dear old dad if you were gone?”

Apparently, taking care of Dad was my only excuse for not walking off to die in the desert. What in the world would I be good for after
he
died?

“I'm sure Rufus would look after you.” I knew I was being catty, even though that was more than likely the truth. Rufus would have been happy to be Dad's caretaker, and he probably would've done a far better job of it than I ever had—mainly because Dad respected Rufus's opinions. “Good ol' Rufus. He seems to be the answer to everything.”

“He's a fine man,” Dad said firmly. “Better than most, and certainly better than any of those young good-for-nothing cowboys we've got working for us.”

My jaw dropped in astonishment. “Good-for-nothing? They're all honest, reliable men, and they work very hard for us. Why on earth would you say a thing like that?”

He placed a placating hand over mine and patted it. “You're right. They're all good workers. They just aren't good enough for you.”

We were talking in circles. I wasn't good enough to run the ranch, and none of the men were good enough for me. Except Rufus.

What
a
choice.

Then again, maybe we
weren't
talking in circles. Dad's answer to everything really was Rufus. To him, Dusty was only a hired hand. I would never convince him Dusty was the right man for me—or the ranch. Rufus had been the foreman forever. He was accustomed to being in charge of the men, and Dad had always trusted him to make sound decisions. Now that I'd heard about guys being fired or beaten up because of me, I couldn't help wondering if Dad had known about any of it. Somehow, this didn't strike me as the right time to ask.

Truth be told, I still wasn't sure I was the right woman for Dusty. But regardless of who I wound up with, there was no need for anyone else to make up my mind for me. Not at this point in my life.

I let the matter drop until we were nearly finished eating. Dad never was one to talk much once he'd tucked in to his dinner anyway, and it gave me the chance to let my temper cool before reopening a rather touchy subject.

“Dad, I understand how you feel about the men in my life,” I began, doing my best to keep smiling. “Fathers never think anyone is good enough for their daughters. But remember,
I'm
the one who'll have to live with whichever man I choose, not you. Besides, I made a pretty good choice the first time, didn't I?”

“Yes, you did,” he admitted, albeit a bit grudgingly. “Although I had my doubts about him in the beginning.”

“It's okay to have doubts. Just as long as you don't condemn that person outright.” I paused, taking a breath that nearly burst my lungs. “And you're right about one thing. I do have a very strong liking for Dusty. And he…well…he likes me too.”

He shook his head. “I still say Rufus would be better.”

“But I don't
love
Rufus. He's probably the most unromantic man I've ever met. Granted, he's attractive, but he's about as much fun as a root canal.”

“Fun isn't the only consideration,” Dad said. “There's respect and companionship and—”

I nearly choked on the sip of tea I'd just taken. “Respect? Rufus has no respect for me whatsoever, and he makes no effort to hide his disgust whenever I giggle—to him it's like fingernails on a chalkboard. I wouldn't be married to him for six months before he made all the laughter in me die, just as surely as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Rufus would stifle me in ways you couldn't begin to imagine.”

Oddly enough, he didn't dispute that point. Perhaps he thought I needed stifling. “And Dusty? What would he do for you?”

“He would love me, Dad.
Love
me. Do you have any idea how important that is? Rufus would
never
love me. He seems almost incapable of it.”

“Maybe not, but that Dusty would break your heart,” he warned.

“And Rufus would make me feel like I didn't have one,” I countered. “I'd much rather take a chance on Dusty. Rufus would destroy what love I have left in me, and I don't want that. Not now, not ever.” Pushing away from the table, I got to my feet. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get things straightened up here so I can go check on Goldie. I'd bet money she foals tonight, and I intend to be there for the event.”

I gathered up the dishes and carried them to the sink, rinsing them off before putting them in the dishwasher with a bit more vigor than the task required.

No, I wouldn't be able to stand a week of being married to Rufus, especially in light of my suspicions. He might marry me and then decide he needed to get rid of me too. Not that there was any chance of that happening. I couldn't imagine any set of circumstances that would induce me to marry him.

What troubled me the most was what might happen to Dusty. If my deductions were correct, there had already been two attempts on his life. That second attempt probably would've killed him if I hadn't run across him when I did. The thought of finding him dead from a rattlesnake bite made my blood run cold. I wasn't about to sit around waiting to see if the third time was the charm. I wanted to stash him in a hotel somewhere so Rufus, or whoever was out to get him, would never find him.

“Now, Angela, all I want is for you to have someone to help you run the ranch when I'm gone. Cody would have done a fine job of it, but with him gone, Rufus would be my first choice. He knows how to manage things and would be a big help to you.”

Clearly, he'd missed the part about love being the most important factor. “I believe I'd rather run things on my own.” I nearly had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out my suspicions. But that's just what they were. Suspicions. I had no proof whatsoever. “He's a good foreman, I'll grant you that, but I'd hate to be the one to promote him into a position of incompetence by making him a partner.” Not that I would keep him on once I was the sole owner of the ranch—at least, not unless someone else turned out to be the culprit.

“What makes you think he'd be incompetent at owning a ranch?”

“I don't know, Dad,” I said with a weary sigh. “Just a gut feeling. Besides, if I married Rufus, who would be foreman?”

“Calvin, I guess,” he replied. “He's been here the longest.”

“Going strictly by seniority, huh?” I gave this a moment of consideration. “Calvin's never been in charge of anything but the kitchen. I don't know if he'd be up to the foreman's job or not.”

As I went back to work on the dishes, another thought occurred to me. “How come you don't think I should marry Calvin? He's older, reliable, and all that. Why not him? Oh no, let
me
answer that,” I said, not giving him a chance to reply. “He's never had any kids, so he'd want a young, fertile woman.”

“Don't get smart with me, young lady,” he said, his smile belying his scolding tone. “Actually, Calvin did have a wife and kids at one time, but you know how it is with cowboys.”

“Oh yeah.” I sang the last line of the chorus to “Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys.”

“Damn, I love that song,” he said with a wistful sigh. “It says it all.”

“If you believe that sort of thing,” I said. “Although I guess I did too, or my sons would've grown up to be cowboys.”

“Too bad about that,” he said. “We wouldn't be having this problem if they'd liked ranching.”

“You never know. One of them might change his mind someday, and then we won't have to worry about it anymore.”

“You mean
you
won't have to worry about it anymore,” he corrected. “I don't think I'll make it until then.”

“You just might.” I did my best to appear more cheerful and confident than I actually felt. His rapid deterioration had me worried. “After all, stranger things have happened.”

“Not
that
strange, and not lately.”

That's what you think. I know of some pretty strange goings on…

“I'm going to bed,” he announced. “Good luck with the mare.”

“Good night,” I said. “Sleep well.”

With a nod, he pushed himself slowly up from his chair. I turned back to the sink, not wanting to witness the evidence of his growing infirmity. It was much too painful to watch. Before long, he would need a walker to get around. I didn't think I would like that.

But then, neither would he.

By the time I got to the barn at about eight thirty, the sky was already fully dark, and as I'd expected, Goldie was pacing in her stall. Despite her restlessness, she joined the other horses in nickering at me when I arrived. When I slipped into her stall for a quick check, I discovered that while her water hadn't broken yet, the muscles in her hindquarters and around her tail were so relaxed the foal would probably fall out with one push. Tonight was definitely the night. I plugged my baby monitor into the outlet by her door, flipped off the lights, and went to the tack room to wait.

I kept one of the beds from the bunkhouse in there for just such occasions, and I'd checked it earlier that day to make sure there weren't any mice nesting in it. My intention was to leave the lights off and lie down, hoping Goldie wouldn't realize I was there and be disturbed by my presence. No doubt a carryover from their days as prey animals, horses can delay labor for a good while if they're nervous. Having a baby when wolves were prowling around wasn't a good idea for any species, nor did mares like having any humans in attendance.

Tiptoeing into the tack room, I closed the door quietly and switched on the portable receiver. I listened for a moment, then after satisfying myself I could still hear her moving about in the stall, I went to lie down on the bed.

Unfortunately, someone was there ahead of me. I knew that because I sat on him.

With a squeal worthy of finding another granddaddy rattler, I sprang up and stumbled toward the door, fumbling for the light switch.

“Hold on,” he whispered. “I've got a lantern.”

With the scrape of a match and a flare of the flame, the wick began to glow. I waited until the light was sufficient to confirm my suspicion that it was Dusty lying there in the bed before I said another word. As touchy as things were around the ranch these days, it didn't pay to jump to conclusions. I certainly didn't want to make the mistake of snuggling up with Bull or Rufus thinking it might be Dusty—or even Troy.

Talk
about
your
embarrassing
situations…

I hadn't had a chance to talk to Troy as yet, and even if he
had
been waiting for me in that bed, I would've had a tough time telling him we were through. He hadn't done a damn thing to deserve being dumped, and to be honest, I felt kinda guilty about that, especially after all the fun we'd had together. I couldn't very well give him one last fuck for the road, but if he'd been the one waiting for me, I could've at least gotten the confession over with. Singling him out for a private chat would be awkward at best. Needless to say, I wasn't looking forward to it.

Fortunately, Dusty wasn't privy to any of those thoughts.

“There now.” After setting the lantern on a nightstand he'd created by upending an old tack trunk, he rolled onto his back. “Isn't this romantic?”

He had certainly been busy. A bouquet of late-season wildflowers arranged in an empty Corona bottle sat next to the lantern, and he'd put clean sheets on the bed along with several extra pillows. Not exactly the Ritz, but for an impromptu tryst, he hadn't done too badly.

His broken leg was propped up on a pillow with a sheet draped over it. With the possible exception of a splash of cologne, that cast was all he had on.

I stood there, spellbound, as his cock pulsed, emitting a glistening trickle of syrup, thereby putting the icing on the cake of my wildest dreams. He might have been the September centerfold for
Erotic
Orthopedic
Monthly
—if such a publication existed. The only thing missing was the staple in his navel.

“Yes, it is,” I replied after a quick clearing of my throat. “Very romantic.” I probably should've left it at that, and I would have if my practical nature hadn't gotten the better of me. “But you know most people keep their clothes on while they're waiting for a mare to foal.”

“True,” he admitted. “Actually, I was hoping you'd get here sooner so we'd have more time. Guess we'll just have to make the best of it.” He paused as a sly smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Of course, if we make lots of noise, Goldie will know we're here and it'll take her longer.”

I knew I needed to keep my voice down, but I couldn't help giggling. “Yes, but I've been waiting a whole year for this foal. Are you telling me you're gonna make me wait even longer?”

He shot me a wink. “It'll be worth the wait. I guarantee it.” Grasping his cock in one hand, he traced a fingertip over the swollen head. “Why don't you sit down and take it easy for a while? You've had a busy day.”

“So have you,” I reminded him. “Shouldn't you be sacked out in your bunk for the night?”

“Later,” he replied. “I took a nap this afternoon, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. You look absolutely adorable when you're asleep.” And even better when he was awake…

“So do you. I'd like to see you asleep in your own bed sometime—after I've made love with you and you're all curled up and naked under a blanket, sighing and smiling in your sleep.”

Actually, I thought I'd like very much to see
him
that way. Perhaps we could take turns…

“Why don't you get undressed and come to bed? Goldie's had plenty of experience delivering foals. Even if we miss it, I'm sure she'll be fine.”

“I know. But it's fun to be there when it happens.”

“It's fun to be here too,” he pointed out. “Or it would be if you'd do what I asked you to. Come on, Angela, my sweet guardian angel. I'm yours, remember? Come play with me. I've been saving my love for you for such a long time. It'll take years and years for me to give it all to you, and I don't want to waste a moment.”

Dusty had always had a quick tongue and a ready wit, but I'd never known he could be quite so persuasive. Before I knew it, I'd peeled off my clothes to stand naked before him, watching as his eyes savored my body, caressing my tingling skin from six feet away.

His cock pulsed again and another gush of fluid followed the first, making me long to sip the sweetness from him.

“I've never seen anything so beautiful in all my life,” he whispered. “My angel, my lovely angel, my adorable Angela. I love you so much, so very much.”

The hopeless romantic in me responded instantly, although I couldn't imagine any woman, hopeless romantic or not, resisting Dusty at that point. A whole stable full of newborn foals couldn't have lured me away from him.

Goldie and her baby were momentarily forgotten as I went to him, melting into his arms and seeking his lips for a long, deep kiss. He tasted sweet. Not minty or tingly like toothpaste, but soft and warm like honey or butterscotch. His kiss went far beyond mere excitement. It intoxicated me, driving out all resistance and rational thought, leaving me helplessly entwined in his embrace, vulnerable to his every whim.

His strong hands caressed me much as his eyes had done, leaving a glow of warmth in their wake, making me feel as though my body, my skin, my whole
self
was the most precious thing he'd ever held in his hands. I felt dazed and drunk with sensations as he sought out the highly sensitized areas clamoring for his attention. His lips drifted from mine to venture ever lower, ever closer to where his face had been that afternoon. I wondered what it would have been like to have climbed topless into the cab of that truck, without a rattlesnake there to complicate things, and let Dusty bury his face between my breasts, feeling his warm breath on my damp nipples as he licked them.

Seconds later, I discovered what I had missed as the soft stubble of his beard brushed my delicate skin, teasing my nipples to aching arousal before he took them, first one and then the other, into his mouth. Both of us moaned as he languorously teased the rigid peaks with his tongue. Once again, I felt that while my enjoyment may have been his sole object, his own pleasure seemed to be far greater than mine.

Hungry to experience that same sensation for myself, I kissed his curls, seeking out his body with my palms. Pressing hard against his skin, I longed to take him inside me, somehow absorbing his essence from where my hands made contact. I roamed his entire body, pushing him away from me in an effort to expose his most sensitive parts as I sought to show him how much I wanted him to be a part of me, to complete me. Cupping his penis in my hand, I let the drops of fluid flow onto my fingers like honey from hot bread.

He expanded in my grasp, thrusting against my palm, coating it with his hot, slick syrup. I held him, caressed him, and squeezed him, delighting in his every sigh and every groan. Each push against my hand stretched the limits of my restraint. He made me feel as though he wanted me so badly he would take any part of me he could get, and that need propelled me to new levels of desire.

Releasing the breast he was devouring, he fell back helplessly against the pillows.

“Oh, Angel,” he sighed. “Oh
yes
…put your hands on me.” He went on, his words punctuated with gasps. “I can't take it. I need… Oh,
please
…”

His voice trailed off as he pushed me down on him. I say pushed, but it was more like a nudge—a request rather than a demand, though it didn't matter to me. I would have done it anyway—could hardly wait, in fact. He slid past my lips with a groan, and I took his delightful balls in my hand and gently caressed them—teasing, scratching, and tickling them until he had my mouth so full of his honey I had to back off to swallow—an act that detonated my first orgasm of the evening. I was glad I'd withdrawn a bit or I might have done some damage. During the few moments it took me to recover, Dusty made a move.

“I need to fuck you.”

Those words burst from him like floodwater from a crumbling dam. I don't know how he did it, but suddenly my head and shoulders were hanging off the edge of the bed. One leg was draped over his hip and the other was curled between his legs with my calf pressed against his butt. In that position, his cock slid straight into me. He rammed me so hard he had to hold onto my legs to keep from fucking me right off the bed. The thought of what he would be able to do with a fully functional left leg boggled my mind completely, leading to orgasm number two, which Goldie had to have heard, although I wouldn't have precisely called it a
scream
.

Dusty never let up for a second but continued on as before, rutting in my body as though he would die or go mad if he stopped, gasping my name and clutching at any part of me he could reach. I heard a loud, pounding noise and thought one of the horses was trying to kick out of its stall, but soon realized it was the heel of Dusty's cast hitting the wall beside the bed. I had just decided Goldie must have heard that too, when I went spiraling off into space with orgasm number
three…

My mind got a bit fuzzy after that—in fact, I damn near passed out—but Dusty's sharply uttered, “Angel!” brought me to my senses as he came. I lay there in a daze, feeling his paroxysms and listening to his panting breaths until he slowly returned to normal and quieted down some. Then I heard something else—and so, apparently, did he.

“Did we knock over the flowers?”

Frowning, I glanced up, noting that the Corona bottle was still standing. Then I realized what we'd heard.

“Holy shit! Goldie's water broke! Pull me up!”

Dusty clasped my outstretched hand and hauled me back up onto the bed, dislodging himself so abruptly the empty feeling came as a bit of a shock. I shuddered as his hot sauce flowed out, spilling onto the sheets in such an erotic fashion I almost said to hell with the horse and stayed right where I was. I gave that idea about one second's thought before leaping to my feet. I could have Dusty anytime I wanted, but this foal was only going to be born once.

Staggering slightly as I regained my equilibrium, I snatched up my jeans and pulled them on, doing my best to ignore the semen running down my leg. I ran barefoot through the barn—a mistake I vowed never to repeat—dragging my shirt on over my head as I went. Flipping on the light to Goldie's stall, I was just in time to see her give the first push.

The two hind legs hadn't emerged as yet, so I couldn't tell if the foal was male or female, but what I
could
see sent my excitement level soaring.

Unfastening the latch, I took a moment to calm myself as I stepped into the stall. Kneeling down in the straw, I took the foal's seemingly lifeless head in my hands. Sliding my fingers down the sides of its nose, I cleared the nostrils of mucus, then held its face between my palms as Goldie gave another push. I watched with tearful joy as the foal's nostrils fluttered, and he blinked as though waking up from a long nap.

“Hot damn, it's a boy!” Not only was he palomino, he had a blaze and four white stockings to boot. “Jenny's gonna be pea green with envy.”

Goldie rolled up onto her belly and curled her head around to see her newborn son, calling to him with a soft nicker.

“You did good, Goldie. What a beautiful baby!” I glanced up as Dusty leaned over the stall door. “Ain't he cute?”

Dusty looked pretty damn cute, himself. His curls were ruffled and his shirt was unbuttoned.

Positively
delightful…

“I think we'll name him…hmm… How about—oh, I know! Dustin's Delight—or maybe Delightful Dusty, or Adorable Dusty or—”

“Better stick with Dustin's Delight,” he said with a chuckle. “Most people don't know that's actually my name.”

“Yeah, well, I know it.” I gave the foal a kiss on his precious little nose. “I write it on your paycheck all the time.”

“True.”

I sighed. “Doncha just love the way a foal's whiskers are all soft and curly and their ears look too big and they're all legs, and—”