Читать книгу Heartbreak Ranch - Fern Michaels - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

AMY KEPT HER MIND busy by doing what she could to fix things inside and outside the house. But there was a lot that needed doing and a body could only do so much without new lumber, whitewash and muscle.

Most of all the roof needed fixing. It was full of acorn-size holes, as was the wood siding. The whole house seemed to be a haven for an army of tireless, redheaded woodpeckers. A long-dead oak tree standing nearby served as their multilevel home, though Amy would have sworn they rarely used it. The birds spent the mornings pecking holes in the roof, the afternoons pecking holes in the siding and the evenings feeding their screaming babies—a whole new generation of wood-pecking pests.

The days went by quickly, spent chasing the birds away and doing chores. It was the nights she dreaded, when there was nothing to occupy her mind, nothing to keep her from thinking about Walker Heart, his words, his kiss, his embrace, his desire for her. Her desire for him. Each night loomed longer and lonelier than the one before it.

It had been two weeks since Walker’s last visit but it seemed much longer. Toddy by her side, Amy sat on the porch step, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the most spectacular sunset she’d ever seen. The sun’s last rays ignited the low clouds clustered over the Tehachapi Mountains, setting them ablaze with bright orange light. It was the kind of sunset poets wrote about, to be appreciated by lovers, not by a lone woman and her dog.

Amy put her arm around Toddy and pulled him close. “Oh, Toddy, what have I gotten myself into?” Toddy licked her hand and she reached up and scratched him behind his ears. “I can’t stop thinking about him no matter what I do.” Toddy stared at her, head cocked to one side as if considering her dilemma. He made a funny, whiny sound that made Amy smile. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m feeling sorry for myself.” She kissed him on the snout, then got up. “Come on, boy. Time for supper.”

Amy took one last, wistful look at the disappearing sunset, then stepped into the shack.

* * *

A THUNDEROUS NOISE pounded the roof. Amy woke with a start and bolted upright. Toddy scampered out from under the covers and barked.

The pounding continued, but it didn’t sound like any thunder she’d ever heard. The woodpeckers? No, it couldn’t be. Even if they all attacked the roof at the same time, they couldn’t make that kind of noise. A hailstorm maybe?

Amy sprang out of bed and ran barefoot into the other room. Dirt and dust fell like heavy snow from the ceiling onto the table, the chairs—everywhere she had spent so much time cleaning. Fearing the roof might collapse at any second, she caught hold of

Toddy’s collar, opened the door and ran outside.

It was with something like dismay that Amy saw there was no army of birds, no dark, thunderous storm clouds, no hailstorm. Nothing! What then? An animal? She shrank back toward the door, pulling Toddy with her. Maybe the raccoon had come back and was on the roof. Or maybe something bigger—like a bear! Not wanting to take any chances, she turned to run inside.

The pounding stopped.

“Amy. You finally up?”

Both Amy and Toddy looked up and stared at the porch’s overhang as if they could see the speaker through the wood and shingle.

Not a raccoon. Not a bear. But a polecat named Walker Heart!

Toddy let loose with a series of howls and Amy stomped down the porch step into the open. A few paces out, she turned, shaded her eyes and glared up at Walker, who was straddling the peak of the roof.

“Mornin’.” Walker lifted a gloved hand. “I know it’s a mite early, but I wanted to—”

“Quiet!” Amy shouted at Toddy to stop his howling. Much to her surprise, the command silenced both Toddy and Walker. “What are you doing up there?”

Walker grinned. “Fixin’ the roof.”

“But it’s—it’s barely even light out.” Amy gestured at the sun, just beginning to creep over the horizon.

“It’s a big job. I needed to get an early start.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done that. I don’t suppose you could have given me some warning?”

“I told you that until I heard from the Pinkerton man, I was gonna run this ranch the way I always have. The roof has to be fixed before the next brandin’.”

Amy bristled at the reminder of the Pinkerton man, ignoring most of what else he said. Second to Walker’s kissing her, she’d thought of little else. “You still could have had the courtesy to tell me,” she snapped. “I spent a lot of time cleaning things up, and now, because of your hammering, there’s dirt all over everything.”

“So I see,” he intoned, his gaze traveling downward.

Confused by his answer and his too-intimate expression, Amy bent her head and looked down at herself. It wasn’t the dirt that made her draw in her breath, but that she was wearing her nightgown.

She could have screamed. Would have screamed if she hadn’t been so embarrassed. She grabbed

Toddy’s collar, made a dash for the house, then bolted the door behind her.

“I should have known he’d do something like this,” she said, looking down at Toddy. “He probably thinks if he makes our lives miserable enough we’ll just pick up and leave.” Toddy gave a low growl that Amy interpreted as agreement. She shook her head and patted him comfortingly. “No, don’t worry. We’re not leaving. We have every right to be here. Sort of.”

Feeling calmer after her talk with Toddy, she dashed around the house gathering up all her personal belongings, then piled them in the bedroom and covered them up. She draped a blue-checkered tablecloth over her mother’s painting and spread an old blanket over her bed quilt. The journal lay on the trunk beside the bed. She hadn’t had time to read it in its entirety, but perhaps today would be the day since she could do little else thanks to Walker.

Moments later Amy left the house carrying a blanket, a food basket and the journal. Toddy prancing by her side, she marched like an infantry soldier toward a grassy knoll near the corral. Considering Walker’s curiosity of what was in her bedroom, she wanted to stay close enough to the house to keep an eye on him.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Walker called after her.

Amy jutted out her chin and kept walking, her sights set on an oak tree. The tree’s leafy branches would provide shade and its trunk would make a solid backrest. She laid her blanket beneath the tree and sat down.

“Sit, Toddy.” As soon as he sat, she removed his leash, confidant he’d stay close. Two days ago he’d learned his lesson about chasing cattle when one of them chased him. Since then, he’d been content to observe them from afar.

After situating herself, Amy opened the journal to the section entitled “My Life—Bella Duprey” and began reading.

My darling Amy,

If you are reading this, it is because I am unable to educate you in the Art Of Fascination. It is not my wish that you follow in my footsteps and become a courtesan. I want more for you than that. I want you to have a home, a husband and a family—all the things I never had. Because I know you want this, too, I have written this journal in the hopes that it will help you attract, manage and keep the man you love.

Here, in these pages, you will find the secrets of my success—methods and techniques in the art of understanding and pleasing a man. Some of them may shock you. Others you may find laughable. But trust me, done properly, they all work! One word of caution—if you are not desirous of a particular man’s attentions, be wary of casual experimentation.

Amy hadn’t realized that the journal was written specifically for her, although Howard had suggested as much. That her mother would go to so much work for her benefit brought a smile to her lips and tears to her eyes.

She turned the page and was immediately engrossed in her mother’s writings. She read that her mother had made a habit of observing men—their likes, dislikes and responses. With this knowledge, she felt she could assess a man’s temperament as well as determine the best way to enhance his sexual pleasure. Each page confirmed just how dedicated her mother had been to her profession. She’d left nothing to chance. After purchasing the Cock O’ The Walk, she’d hired a Chinese herbalist to help her develop aphrodisiacs, elixirs and potions to soothe the mind, heal the body and heighten sexual pleasure.

This explained the bottles in the bottom of the trunk.

Amy skimmed through the pages of the recipe section, thinking of them as witches’ brews. Then a thought crossed her mind. Might there be a potion she could mix up and use on Walker to soften his heart? She quickly turned the page, chiding herself for even thinking such a thing. If there was such a magical formula, she could never bring herself to use it.

Amy figured it was well past noon by the way the shadows fell. She had to read only another twenty pages or so of the journal and she’d be finished. Tired of sitting, she stretched out on her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows.

Toddy lay down beside her and rested his long nose between his front paws.

To become accomplished in the Art of Fascination, you must be willing to explore even the most unconventional methods. Several years ago an idea came to me quite by accident, after a devoted gentleman friend gave me Toddy.

Curious as to how Toddy figured into things, Amy leaned closer to the page, not wanting to miss a single word. Nothing could have surprised her more than to read her mother’s theory that a man could be trained in much the same way as a dog. She laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it but continued to read—page after page of instruction on how to correct a man’s behavioral problems with training methods similar to those used for a dog.

It is all in the communication. You must make very clear what you want. And use short commands because men, like dogs, sometimes get confused.

Now Amy knew what Howard meant when he said Toddy taught Bella more about men than all the courtesans in France.

“Toddy, sit,” Amy said, putting her mother’s theory to test. The big poodle sat down. “Good boy,” she congratulated him. “Speak.” He began to bark. “Quiet,” she told him and he stopped.

It was then she remembered that this morning she had seen for herself how commanding Toddy to be quiet had inadvertently silenced Walker, as well. And when Walker had ruined her only decent batch of biscuits, she’d ordered him to sit and he’d sat!

“Good heavens!” she whispered, stunned. Her mother’s theory did indeed appear to work, but— How awful! How demeaning! She could never bring herself to use such underhanded tactics to—

Uninvited, a trio of recent and rather demeaning events popped into her head: Walker refusing to move his horse so she could get the deed from her trunk; Walker chastising her for not knowing the difference between green wood and seasoned wood; and Walker inspecting her biscuits, then having the audacity to call them puny.

One corner of her mouth drew taut and her eyes narrowed to slits as she gave in to her devilish thoughts...and the delightful possibilities.

She went back to the first line where Toddy was mentioned and pored over the lessons, laughing even as she committed them to memory.

It was late afternoon when she finished and started back to the house. Approaching the corral, Amy stopped short when she looked up and saw Walker standing on the roof unbuttoning his shirt. She went breathlessly still as she watched him peel it off. His sweat-slick arms were heavy with muscle, and a dark thatch of hair covered his chest, narrowing as it ran down his stomach and disappeared into his pants. He looked hot, tired and entirely too appealing for any man to look, especially after a day of hard physical labor.

“I’m just about finished,” he said, crumpling the shirt into a ball, then tossing it down. “Here. Catch.”

Hypnotized by the wide expanse of Walker’s chest and the rugged breadth of his shoulders, Amy didn’t see the garment until it dropped on top of her head. While fighting to get it off, she heard Walker laughing. She threw the shirt to the ground and glared up at him.

His laughter stopped abruptly when he lost his footing. Amy’s mouth opened to shout a warning but nothing came out. She watched fearfully as he struggled to maintain his balance, his arms windmilling. In the end, he was unable to save himself and gave in to the roof’s slippery slant.

The ground under her feet seemed to vibrate with the force of his landing.

“Walker!” She hiked up her skirts and ran to his side.

Flat on his back, spread-eagle, he lay still as death. In a panic, she knelt beside him. “Walker?” His eyes were wide open but he didn’t seem to see her.

“Walker, oh, no, please.” Amy looked him over for signs of broken bones and blood, but there were no visible injuries. With shaky hands, she carefully turned his head toward her. “Walker, please say you’re all right.”

He lifted his hand and clasped it around her arm, squeezing tight as he gulped air back into his lungs.

“I—I’m all—right,” he managed at last, releasing his hold on her arm. “Just got...the wind... knocked—” He started to cough.

Amy bowed her head and thanked God. For all the anger and mistrust between them, she didn’t wish him harm. When she looked up again, she saw Toddy standing next to Walker’s head. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, he licked Walker’s face.

“Get him...stop—” Walker sputtered between gasps.

“Toddy! Don’t do that,” Amy commanded, but instead of obeying her, he did it again.

“Damn dog... I’m gonna—kill—” Walker choked out as he rolled over onto the hem of Amy’s skirt.

“Toddy! No!” Amy shouted.

Toddy turned and headed for the house, his tail between his legs.

“I’m sorry. He must really like you.” She looked down and saw Walker’s head lying on her skirt in the junction between her thighs. She took in a startled breath, then tried to hide her shock when he glanced up at her.

“Just give me a minute,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.

Unable to speak, she could only nod.

Minutes later Walker was breathing more normally. He made a face as he lifted his head off her skirt and raised himself on one elbow.

“Let me help you,” Amy offered, reaching toward him. She wasn’t sure how much assistance she could give, considering he probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds or more. But she would do what she could.

“No. Leave me be.”

Amy ignored him. “Oh, don’t be silly.” She jumped to her feet, bent down in front of him and was reaching toward him when he swore at her under his breath.

“I said leave me be.” He waved her away, then, amid grunts and groans, rolled to his knees and began easing himself up.

Hands clenched together against her heart, Amy watched his struggle and felt his pain almost as strongly as if it were her own. Why he would refuse her help, she could only guess. Masculine pride, perhaps. Or maybe just bullheadedness. Whatever the reason, it simply wasn’t good enough.

He was halfway between a stoop and a stand and making poor progress when Amy bent down in front of him, wrapped her arms around his bare middle and helped lift him to his feet. Even after they were standing, she continued to hold him close to her, afraid to let him go.

With her cheek pressed against his chest, she could feel the vibration of his voice, hear the rapid beating of his heart. Memories of another day—of him holding her, kissing her—flashed through her mind. She closed her eyes and let the memory envelop her.

“I thought I told you to leave me be,” he said in a tone that effectively ended her daydream.

She pulled back to look up at him. “So you did, but it happens that I don’t respond well to being ordered around.”

“I’ve noticed.”

She smiled, pleased with herself that she’d stood her ground.

Amy released him then and took a step backward. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah. No. I don’t know. My back hurts like a son of a—!”

“Walker Heart! I will not tolerate cursing!”

“For God’s sake, Amy! This is no time—” Whatever he was about to say ended when he took a step forward and faltered.

Amy saw the difficulty he was having and moved around to his side. “Put your arm around my shoulder and lean on me.” When he didn’t make a move to do as she suggested, she did it for him. “Now, then, let’s take it real easy. One step at a time.”

Once they were in the house, Amy steered Walker toward the bedroom. She maneuvered him through the door, then propped him against the door frame.

“Stay here a minute. I have to take the blanket off the bed.”

“Don’t go to any extra trouble for me.” He took a step forward.

“Walker, stay!” she shouted, halting him before he could take another step. Amy didn’t have time to ponder the fact that she’d used a dog command to get him to listen to her, because the second she turned around, she confronted the blue-checkered tablecloth covering her mother’s painting.

She froze, her heart racing, as she tried to think of what to do. Short of ordering him back outside, then telling him to mount up and ride out, there wasn’t anything she could do, except hope for a miracle that he wouldn’t ask what she was hiding.

Taking a deep breath, she took the debris-covered blanket off the bed, then started fluffing the pillow.

Walker made a sound in his throat that was a combination of impatience and pain.

Keep the training lessons short. The journal’s lessons came to her unbidden, but she didn’t shut them out. If ever she needed help on handling a man, it was now. And whether she approved of the method or not, anything was preferable to his seeing the painting and discovering her secrets. If you work with him for too long at one time, he’ll become bored and won’t respond at all.

Amy hurried to finish.

“Ready?” she asked. He growled an indistinguishable answer and pushed off the door frame as she started toward him. “Wait for me,” she said, ducking under his arm. Amy gritted her teeth as she prepared to bear his weight, but instead he dropped his arm from around her shoulders and moved forward on his own.

“Walker Heart!” She brandished his name like a weapon and slipped around in front of him, splaying her hands flat against his chest to prevent him from taking another step. “You’re going to do as I say or else!” she threatened, her voice throbbing with anger and frustration. Too late she remembered her

mother’s cautionary note.

Never lose your temper. Yelling and stamping around in anger will only make things worse, and he’ll be reluctant to respond to your training.

“I—I’m sorry,” she offered, hoping to undo any damage she might have caused. When she realized she was speaking to his chest, she tilted her head back and looked up. His expression was tight with strain. “I really must insist that you let me help you. One wrong move and you could hurt yourself even more.”

Believing that she had appealed to his common sense, Amy tried again and this time found him slightly more cooperative. Still, getting Walker into bed was no easy task. He was not a small man and pain made him inflexible.

Muttering an oath, he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Turning, lifting, pushing and pulling, Amy managed to lay him down.

“There now. That should do it,” she said, adjusting the pillow beneath his head.

“I can’t lie here like this,” he complained. “I feel like a corpse. I need pillows to prop me up.”

She shook her head. “What you need is to lie flat.”

“You a doc?” he snapped.

“No, but I often helped my mother take care of her girls. They were always straining their backs and—” She broke off, the reality of what she’d said hitting her like a slap on the face. She glanced down at Walker and was relieved to see that he wasn’t paying her any attention. He was too busy trying to get himself comfortable.

Admonishing herself for always saying the first thing that came into her head, Amy moved to the end of the bed, grabbed his left boot and started to tug.

“Hey!” he shouted. He shook his foot loose of her hand. “The boots stay on.”

Remember who is in charge. Be confident in your authority.

“Not in my bed they don’t,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument. Before he could respond, she grabbed his boots by the heels and tugged them off. “I’ll just leave them by the door.”

“Thanks,” he replied to her back as she set the boots on the floor.

A moment later she was back, pulling off his socks. She tossed them on the floor next to his boots. Coming around to the side of the bed, she leaned forward and started toward his belt buckle.

He grabbed her hands in midmotion. “If you want to take my pants off it’s fine with me. But I think I should warn you that I’m not wearin’ anything underneath.”

Amy snatched her hands away. What on earth had she been thinking? Obviously, she’d gotten carried away with her nursing duties. His smug expression mocked her, but she refused to let him see her mortification.

“Thank you for the warning. It didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t be wearing any— I mean— I just wanted you to be comfortable.”

“I’m as comfortable as I’m gonna get, considerin’.” He gave her a disgruntled look, then turned his face toward the wall.

“Good. That’s...good.”

Without another word, Amy fled the room and closed the door behind her.