“Good night, Nick. Wes, if you’re going up, could you walk me to my door?”
Victoria didn’t want Nick to and for some uneasy reason she felt he was going to offer.
Wes moved to stand beside her and they both bid Nick good night.
“We’ll get together tomorrow and go over the plans. We’ll have lunch. I’ll be free by then,” Nick offered, hurriedly, following them to the foot of the stairs.
“We’ll see.” Victoria was glad when Wes took her arm and escorted her up.
In front of her door, he merely tipped his hat and headed for his own room.
Victoria watched him go. Something was wrong.
“What’s bothering you tonight, Wes?”
He was surprised by the genuine concern in her voice. With his hand on the doorknob, he looked back at her. “Thanks for asking, but I’m just tired. If you’re not going to use the bathroom right away, I will.”
“No, go ahead. Don’t let Nick worry you. He’s okay.”
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He walked back to stand a few feet from her. He caught the faint scent of something exotic as he drew closer. “Nick doesn’t worry me. I just wonder if he’s good for this town. Like you said, he takes all this to heart. I had decided to let him be my right-hand man, but if he can’t keep directions straight, it won’t work.”
“That was very nice of you.” And it was. It warmed her heart to think that this tough, in-charge man would try to smooth Nick’s amplified ego, give him a chance to be what he wanted to be. She wanted him to know how she felt. “I think it might be just what he needs. Don’t give up on him right away. Give it a chance. I like the idea. Maybe it will fill a void the man seems to be nurturing.”
Wes thought a minute. She might be right. It might be worth giving him the benefit of a doubt if just for her. It would be one less thing she had to deal with.
Her eyes looked tired and she seemed much less the steel maiden tonight.
Almost touchable. He leaned a little closer. “Good night.”
The aura that she sensed surrounded Wes Cooper from the first moment they bumped into each other seemed to envelop her. Her biological perception seemed to overreact. In the dim light of the hallway, his dark eyes captured hers.
His sensuous mouth was close. She had a fleeting picture of it coming slowly down toward her own. Drawing herself up to her full five foot five, she pushed the door open. “Good night, Wes.”
He stayed where he was for a few seconds. One. Two. Three. Her mouth went dry. She cast him a quick smile and ducked into her room. It was another few seconds before she heard the sound of his boots on the floorboards as he moved back to his room.
She sat on the bed. For the first time in years she let the loneliness that she had suppressed float to the surface. No matter how large the crowd, Victoria had always experienced a loneliness. Even married to David, she had felt alone.
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She heard the door click and then the water running. Victoria shivered at the thought of the man naked, hot water steaming the room and misting the mirror.
She remembered what it was like to be a wife. She missed the physical contact.
She missed being held and loved by someone who cared, even if he hadn’t cared in the way she needed. She could still have it. It had been her choice, she reminded herself as she headed for the door. Surprised at her reaction to merely living so close to this very virile man, she sniffed. She needed a walk.
The last of the tourists were driving off the lot. Her reenactment crew and the owners of the businesses were straggling back to their living quarters. Only the crew in the dining room remained to clean up.
Glory Town seemed to sigh and settle in for the long, warm night.
Walking toward the stables, bathed in light from the full moon, she scuffed her new Western boots in the dust. Yes, it had been her decision to end her marriage to David and sometimes she wondered if it had been a wise choice. The guilt she carried with her was heavy. It wasn’t a thing he had done that spoiled the marriage; it was what he didn’t do and maybe, just maybe, she had expected too much. She’d never forget the look on his face when she told him of her decision to end the union. Hurt. Regret. A willingness to do whatever she wanted…and that had made her mad. What if she’d been wrong? If he truly loved her, why hadn’t he fought for their marriage? But then, if she had really loved him, why hadn’t she stayed and made it work? Running her hands over her eyes, she blew out her breath. Maybe, just maybe, that was the way marriage was supposed to be. Comfortable. She had none close by to study. She didn’t know of any that lasted very long.
She listened to the soft nickering of horses and walked past the barn and beyond. The grass grew longer here. Climbing the hill, walking through blue 60
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columbine and around flaming yucca flowers, Victoria enjoyed the cool, faraway call of the meadowlark. She sat when she reached the top. Pulling her knees up and encircling them with her arms, she let her chin rest on them.
The landscape was beautiful. All shadows and glistening dew. Soft lights glowed from the trailers on the back lot as families settled in.
Other women had men to lie next to, to love with zest and take care of…and to have care lavished on them. A late dinner would be on the stove. The kids would be settled. The radio might be playing softly. He might come up behind her and turn her into his arms for a slow, romantic dance around the kitchen. Or he could be propped up in front of the TV with a martini and she curled up on the couch with a good book.
He’d look up and wink at her. They would both think of a time coming, a little later and behind closed doors.
She knew many of those who lived together weren’t married. Was that a requirement? Did marriage cancel all the ways a man treated a woman when she was his girl? Complacency. Benign neglect. She hated it.
Stretching out flat on the damp ground, Victoria watched light clouds scoot across the dark sky. The moon was virgin white on the black background. Maybe a lot of the soft, yielding woman she thought she left behind in Virginia was still with her. It wouldn’t be all that bad if she didn’t have to act so tough and durable to prove herself to Buck and the boys. They didn’t have much use for Easterners anyway and she knew she had to show them. But sometimes it was a real chore to be so self-reliant and gutsy. She wished she had a strong shoulder to lean on. A simple piece of blue cotton denim with a man stuffed in it. A man who adored her. A night animal skittered through the grass.
She missed the men at the veterans hospital. She missed their joking and mischievous ways. She missed sitting quietly and letting them talk about the
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war. She yearned for their sometimes undaunted spirits and their insecurities.
Most of all, she missed the way they needed her and counted on her. She would call them Sunday night. It was the time that she usually spent watching a movie with them or humming along with Jesse as he strummed his scarred and battered guitar. Even though his legs were gone, his hands could still coach beautiful music from the instrument. She could almost hear the strains of his sad, sad songs play along the wind.
A puffy cloud threaded its way across the moon, dipping her into complete darkness and then showering her with light once more. The night air was cool; the sounds were soothing. As the breeze whispered through the tall grasses, it caused a secretive, whispery sound all its own.
If that was all there was in her world at the moment to offer her comfort, she would gladly accept it. There was a new excitement about her now, one she wasn’t about to lose, no matter what it took.
Everything would work out. She would see to it. In his own way, Buck was doing what he thought best. Ornery as she felt he was being, it was just his way.
And she knew he must miss her uncle. He had told her they had been together a long time. She resolved to interact more with him…show him that she wasn’t such a bad person to have around.
An owl hooted somewhere in the distant night and somehow it comforted her to know she wasn’t the only one out here alone tonight.
A branch of long-needle pine snapped swiftly and silently back into place.
Grass bent, making no sound, under a booted foot. The old owl looked down from its perch and studied the shadowy figure of the watcher make his way back behind the trees.
“Whooooo,” the old bird called, but no answer followed.
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Chapter Four
Later, Victoria strolled down from the hill and passed the barn. Hearing movement in the paddock and knowing that the horses were stabled inside, she moved to the wooden fence to see who was there.
Under the full spread of moonlight, Wes worked his horse. He was dressed simply, in a white T-shirt, jeans, and boots. The go-to-hell black hat tilted low on his forehead. His hair still glistened with water from his recent shower.
The horse’s white mane picked up the moonbeams and bounced them back.
But it was the horse’s gait that caught her full attention and the way the man on his back sat…quietly, talking low and gently, and seemingly a part of the animal.
The single-foot. She recognized it even though she had only seen it once before. Not a natural gait to a quarter horse, it was a slow, flourishing, well-learned, and disciplined movement by both horse and rider. The gelding’s neck was arched, proud head bowed. Wes, too, looked downward. The turned-down brim of his hat hid his eyes.
She couldn’t pull her gaze away. Wes appeared to be dancing, dancing…with his horse, here in the moonlight.
In the still and privacy of the night, man and horse merged. Minds and spirits were in tune.
An eerie feeling crept over her as she watched horse and rider. There was so much more to J. Weston Cooper than she had ever imagined, and it baffled her why seeing him like this revealed it to her. Granted, it had taken patience to teach the horse. It took practice to keep the animal good at the routine, and it
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took love for it to be performed so uniformly…the two of them working together, each waiting for the other’s signal…and approval. It meant something to him. It was obvious by the calm, happy look on his face. Something that was shared only between man and beast was significant to him. The dance wasn’t to be shared with others. This was a time and an activity that Wes kept just for himself and his horse. How much of himself did he keep that way? Isolated and protected.
A shiver rode Victoria’s spine. Goose bumps popped up on the skin of her arms. Her sigh slipped out quietly. This had to be the most beautiful thing she had seen. It was almost supernatural. If there had been music, it would have been a Vienna waltz. If there had been an audience, it would be hushed and amazed.
Wes kept his eyes downward, one hand dangling regally at his side, the other loosely holding the reins. The slight creak and give of the saddle leather were rhythmic. The soft clop of hooves was a quick one-two. High prance, leg up, leg down, again leg up, leg down. In swift movements, yet it almost appeared as slow motion, it was body up and body down, then…one-two again.
In carousel motion. Again.
Wes’s strong legs were clamped around the horse and his booted feet rested in the leather stirrups. Mane flowing, tail swaying, the horse seemed to sense his owner’s desires. Their movements continued to be made—painstakingly slow and precise.
Victoria didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until it escaped in a long sigh. A smile played on her mouth as she watched, attentively and longingly, a relationship she envied. Never in her life had she been exposed to an intimacy like the one she saw before her. She had never met anyone capable of it.
Or was it she? Maybe she had been the one not capable of it.
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She knew she kept her real feelings inside for too long. Strapped by protocol, tied by a society she had lived in all her life. The first and only relationships that could come close were with her hospitalized vets. And even then the specialness could only be shared on a careful and measured basis. If they all got too dependent on her and she counted too much on them, then it would be another restraining relationship and none of them wanted that. It was a wonderful kind of kinship. A bridled freedom. Right now she felt real freedom rip through her and was grateful to Wes for it. Grateful that she had come out here tonight. Glad she had had a chance to witness this.
It excited her to know that what she felt she needed in her life could be obtained. And then she took a good, long look at Wes. She had resented him right from the first. She had fought getting to know him because he was an intruder. When he’d tried to be nice, she’d be flip. When he showed interest in the feelings Buck was stepping on, she had simply batted it away. There was so much more to this man than she had allowed herself to see. She decided to change that. For her. If only for her.
“Well, hello.” Wes had spotted her and it had snapped his concentration…and the flow of satisfaction he had been feeling traded itself for another.
Surprised he had detected her, she felt as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I was taking a walk…I wasn’t spying on you. But when I saw this,” she gestured toward him and his mount. “It’s beautiful. I’m afraid I’ve been watching for a while.”
Horse and rider sidled over to the fence, the single-foot forgotten for the night. He scratched the horse between the ears and stood up in the stirrups to flex bunched muscles in his legs. “He’s quite a horse,” he grinned, proudly.
“And you’re quite a rider,” she added, meaning it.
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He smiled at her and she felt as if it were the first time. There was a measure of intimacy between them. They seemed to really see each other instead of merely engaging in the usual thrust and parry routine.