Читать книгу A Husband Made In Texas - Rosemary Carter - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

‘HI, COWGIRL.’

Paintbrush in hand, the jeans-clad figure turned from the fence of the corral. ‘Hi, yourself, cowboy.’

A week had passed since the last time he had seen her. ‘You look busy, Kaitlin.’

Beneath the broad-brimmed Stetson, her eyes were intensely green, almost jade. ‘You could say that. I didn’t hear the plane this time, Flynn. Unless, of course, you reverted to your original mode of transport and arrived on horseback.’

He laughed. ‘All the way from Austin? Hardly.’ He glanced at the radio perched on a tree-stump beside the can of paint ‘Can’t say I’m surprised you didn’t hear the plane above the din.’

Kaitlin touched a dial and lowered the decibels. ‘Not surprising at all,’ she conceded as the throbbing beat of saxophone and drums faded into background music.

‘You used to be a country and western fan, Kaitlin.’

‘I still am, but there’s nothing like variety. Been here long, Flynn?’

‘A while.’

‘I believe you’ve been watching me, cowboy.’

‘You believe right.’

A few drops of white dropped from Kaitlin’s brush as she leaned it across the rim of her bucket. As she came to Flynn, he was struck anew by her extreme slenderness and the gracefulness of her movements. Tendrils of hair escaped from beneath her Stetson to curl on her forehead, giving her a waiflike appearance that tugged at his heartstrings, and made his expression darken. The last thing Flynn wanted was for Kaitlin to touch his emotions.

‘Why are you here?’ she asked.

‘To see you?’ he suggested.

‘Obviously—but not for friendly reasons. Whatever it is, it’ll concern the ranch and the mortgage.’

‘Does it have to be the reason? Men must come here all the time to woo the lovely Kaitlin Mullins.’

There was a sudden tightness around her lips. ‘I don’t have time for sarcasm, Flynn. Tell me why you’re here, let’s deal with it, whatever it is—and then I’ll ask you to leave.’

A dark eyebrow lifted. ‘Was I being sarcastic?’

‘What do you call it?’

‘I thought I was being complimentary. An invitation to one of your parties used to be quite an honour.’

A shadow seemed to pass briefly before Kaitlin’s eyes. ‘Is that what it was, Flynn?’ Tension in her tone. ‘Don’t bother answering, because I don’t want to hear it: not when what you call a compliment is really an insult.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Is that the way you feel about it? Had any parties lately?’

‘No,’ she said shortly.

‘Really? You haven’t told me about the men who visit you here.’

‘There aren’t any men.’

‘I find that very hard to believe.’

‘Believe whatever you like, Flynn.’ Kaitlin pushed a hand through her hair, the gesture heavy with weariness. ‘The truth is, I don’t have time in my life for men. Just as I don’t have time for wisecracks and insults and sarcasm.’

Flynn reached out and touched her left cheek, dabbing at it with his forefinger. As Kaitlin stepped abruptly back wards, he said mildly, ‘Just removing some paint.’

‘I’ll wash it off at the house.’

He eyed her quizzically. ‘When did you become so prickly, Kaitlin?’

‘When did you become so overbearing and arrogant?’ she countered.

For a long moment Flynn was silent, struck by the strain he saw in the delicate-featured face. Kaitlin looked ready to drop with fatigue, he thought.

Softly, he said, ‘This kind of talk isn’t really getting us anywhere, is it?’

‘No... Which is why I wish you’d leave.’

‘Not just yet,’ he said evenly. ‘For one thing, I want to know why you’re out here slaving in this devilish heat.’

‘Slaving? I’m just painting a fence, Flynn.’

‘In this scorcher? You’ll be telling me next that you enjoy working so hard when you could be somewhere cooler.’

Her lips quivered slightly. ‘I do like painting.’

‘You could be paying a man to do it for you.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Flynn, I can’t believe you’d say anything so silly this close to the end of the twentieth century! Don’t you know yet that a woman can do anything she puts her mind to?’

‘Sure I do—but at risk of being labelled a chauvinist, I don’t believe you took on this task just for the fun of it. So maybe you’d like to tell me why you’re doing it?’

‘Flynn—’

‘And why you’re working alone at it.’

Kaitlin took a shuddering breath. Hearing it, Flynn was overcome by a desire—an utterly insane desire—to rescue her from her drudgery, to protect her.

Protect her, indeed! Since when had spoiled Kaitlin Mullins—doted on by her parents, given everything she ever wanted—needed protection?

‘Last time I was here, you told me you were shorthanded. Now I want to know whether you’re trying to run the ranch on your own. The truth, Kaitlin.’

The look she threw him was part withering outrage, part assumed wide-eyed innocence. ‘On my own? Of course not! How could I possibly cope?’

‘You couldn’t,’ Flynn acknowledged abruptly.

‘There’s your answer then.’

‘No, because whatever you say, there don’t seem to be many cowboys on this ranch.’

‘Didn’t we talk about that last time? There are cowboys—not many, but enough. If you haven’t seen them ‘it’s because they’re out on the range, roping and branding. So you see, Flynn, your concerns are unwarranted.’

Kaitlin accompanied the words with a grin which, if she hadn’t looked quite so tired, might have succeeded in being provocative. As it was, it made her look more vulnerable than ever.

Flynn swallowed down hard over the unwelcome and unexpected lump in his throat. ‘All the same,’ he said after a moment, ‘I still wonder how you’re managing.’

‘Isn’t it enough that I’m doing it?’

‘How, Kaitlin?’

‘I don’t owe you any answers, Flynn.’

‘I think you’re forgetting something.’

‘The mortgage.’ Her eyes clouded. ‘I haven’t forgotten it. It haunts me day and night, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since you told me about it. I know I have to make regular payments, and I will.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

‘Of course, I realize that with Bill out of the picture the whole scenario has changed. No matter what you say about Bill—and I keep wishing he’d had the courage to tell me the truth—he was never unkind.’

‘Whereas you see me—’Flynn’s grin was wicked ‘—as some kind of monster?’

‘I get the feeling you’ve turned into an unforgiving sort of man.’

Flynn’s grin vanished. Didn’t Kaitlin understand that some things were impossible to forgive?

After a moment he said, ‘I’m a businessman, Kaitlin. Unlike your good buddy Bill, I don’t let friendship or personalities get in the way of my business arrangements. If that makes me unkind and a monster, then maybe that’s what I am—at least in your eyes. Now, Kaitlin, suppose you tell me, honestly, why there are so few cowboys at the ranch.’

‘I still say I don’t have to give you any answers. As long as you get your payments, that’s all that should interest you.’

‘But I am interested.’

‘Flynn...’

‘Why, Kaitlin?’

‘I don’t know why you’re pressing this when you know the answer already.’ Her voice was flat. ‘Money—or the lack of it, Flynn. It’s as simple as that.’

‘You can’t afford any cowboys?’

‘I keep telling you there are some. Just not as many as there should be.’

‘Which is why you’re working flat-out yourself. A slip of a girl, taking on the work of a bunch of men.’

Two bright spots of red burned in Kaitlin’s cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with anger. ‘Is that pity I hear in your voice, Flynn Henderson? If it is, save it for someone else. The ranch is my life. I am where I want to be. Living the way I want to live. Sure, I admit things could be better, but they could be a lot worse, too. I’m coping. And if there’s one thing I can’t bear, it’s pity. I’ll manage, Flynn, somehow I’ll manage.’

Flynn thought admiringly, and not for the first time, that Kaitlin had more guts and drive and independence than both her parents had possessed together.

He asked, ‘What happened to the girl whose life was one mad whirl of fun? Horses, swimming, picnics, parties? What happened to her, Kaitlin?’

‘Did she exist?’ Kaitlin’s tone was brittle.

‘Don’t you remember?’

‘Dimly.’

‘Whereas I remember her vividly. She was lovely, Kaitlin. Pretty beyond belief, with skin like roses just out of the bud. Vibrant, and so full of fun that you couldn’t help being happy, too, when you were with her. And sexy, Kaitlin. So sexy that a man thought he’d go crazy if he couldn’t make love to her.’

Kaitlin looked away from him, and then back. ‘Are you sure she was real, Flynn?’

‘Flesh and blood down to the last dainty toe. What happened to her?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Think you could find her?’

‘How can I, when she’s gone?’

‘Has she really gone, Kaitlin?’

‘Forever. Never to return.’ A small smile of wry amusement touched her lips. ‘And maybe it’s all for the best, Flynn—she sounds revolting.’

‘Actually, she was delightful.’

Kaitlin swallowed. ‘The fact is, she’s gone, Flynn, and she’s not about to return. That girl lived in another world, another era.’ Picking up her paintbrush, she began to paint once more, slapping paint on the fence with what seemed to Flynn to be unnecessary energy.

A few minutes went by. Then Kaitlin said, ‘Talking about the past, Flynn, I could ask you what happened to the guy I once knew. The young cowboy. He was fun, too, at least until—’ She stopped abruptly.

‘Until?’ Flynn prompted.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Maybe it does to me.’ His face was still, his tone urgent.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said again.

‘Until? The cowboy was fun until what, Kaitlin?’

She was working quickly now, her small oval face fierce with concentration. Briefly she turned to him. ‘Don’t press me, Flynn. That world, the one we lived in, has vanished. Forever. There’s no way it can ever come back to life.’

‘You’re certain of that?’

‘Positive. The person you talk of, I can’t believe I was ever that girl, Flynn. If you must know, I wouldn’t even want to be like her any more. As for you, I just have to look at you to know you could never be that sweet young cowboy again, either. So just drop the subject—OK?’

For a few minutes she worked in silence. Presently she turned to him. ‘You still haven’t told me why you’re here, Flynn.’

‘We’ll talk about it later. When I’ve helped you with the fence.’

She stared at him. ‘Oh no, I don’t think so.’

‘Where can I find a brush and another pot of paint?’

‘It’s out of the question, Flynn!’

‘Two can do the job twice as quickly as one. Just think, Kaitlin, you’ll be able to go back to the house earlier. Imagine yourself in the tub, and after a nice long soak, enjoying a cool drink.’ He grinned at her.

Kaitlin hesitated a moment, her expression one of such open yearning that Flynn understood quite how tempting his offer was.

‘I don’t think so,’ she said at last, but her tone was reluctant.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I can’t afford to pay you for your labour.’

‘Did I say anything about charging?’

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? You keep telling me you’re a businessman. What would you do, Flynn—add the painting costs to the mortgage?’

‘Actually,’ he drawled, ‘just this once, my services won’t cost you a cent. Where’s a brush, Kaitlin? And don’t try putting me off, because it won’t work. Where’s all your stuff? In the shed, where it used to be?’

A glance at Flynn’s face must have convinced Kaitlin that he meant what he said, for after a moment she nodded. Minutes later he emerged from the shed, paintbrush in one hand, hammer and a screwdriver in the other in case something needed repair, he explained.

For a while they painted in silence. Eventually, Flynn said, ‘Time for a break.’

‘You can take a break, Flynn. I won’t.’ Flynn, the weakling, her tone implied.

He was unabashed. ‘Trying to prove something to me, or to yourself, Kaitlin?’

‘I’m not proving anything to anybody. I’m just determined to get a job of work done.’ Beneath her tan she was pale, and her eyes looked exhausted.

‘Do you think a break would hold you up?’ Flynn asked, quite gently.

‘When there’s so much left to do? Yes, it would hold me up.’ Her tone was defiant.

There was no arguing with her when she was in this mood. ‘Fine,’ Flynn said easily, ‘we’ll go on in that case.’

Side by side, they worked, sharing the same can of white paint. Around them the air bristled with tension, but Flynn pretended not to notice it. He began to talk, light talk, inconsequential: a question about a cowboy he remembered from the past; a comment about an oil-strike which had been reported in the Texas newspapers recently; the weather. Little by little, the tension lessened.

They had moved to another section of fence when Kaitlin said, ‘Remember when you roped the calf? I asked you if you’d been a rodeo rider?’

‘I remember.’

‘Were you on the rodeo circuit, Flynn?’

He looked at her. ‘Yes.’

‘After you left the ranch?’

‘Yes again.’

Her eyes sparkled. ‘So I was right! What did you do on the circuit, Flynn? Roping?’

‘At first. Until I started riding the bulls.’

‘Bull-riding?’ She looked at him in disbelief. ‘Is that a joke?’

‘No.’

‘It’s so hard to imagine. Bull-riding! I’m not sure if you’re having me on.’