Montana Mail-Order Wife Page 14

  Skirting the huge building, he strolled to the back of the barn. A huge pile of horse manure steamed in the moonlight, and he grinned when he saw it.

  That would keep Cindy Lou away.

  He perched on a stump someone had evidently used for splitting logs, and dug into his dessert. With the wind blowing the other way, he didn’t mind the nearness of the manure pile at all. Nobody was going to bother him out here.

  He’d just swallowed his first bite when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped like a frog on a hot griddle. He almost dropped his cake, but managed to fumble it to safety.

  “What do mean, scaring a fellow to death like that?” he hollered.

  Sue Ann Swenson towered above him. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

  “What about?” Jordan eyed her warily and took another bite of cake.

  “About your houseguest.”

  “Rachel?”

  She grimaced at him. “You have another houseguest?”

  “No, just Rachel.”

  “What do you think of her?”

  “I like her.”

  “And your father?”

  “He likes her, too.” Jordan took another huge bite of cake and wished he’d brought a glass of milk along to wash it down.

  Sue Ann folded her arms across her chest. “Does he ever kiss her?”

  “Kissing? Yuck! My dad never kisses anybody.”

  “Not that you’ve seen.”

  Jordan thought about that for a minute. It was possible his dad kissed Rachel when he wasn’t around, but he doubted it. Dancing tonight was the closest he’d ever seen the two together. “No, not that I’ve seen.”

  “Have you seen anything else?”

  Jordan was fast losing interest in this conversation. He took another mouthful of cake.

  “Pay attention when I’m talking to you.” Sue Ann yanked the plate from his hand and tossed it on the manure pile behind her.

  Jordan’s anger swelled. He really liked Ursula’s cake, and that had been the last piece.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said with growing anger.

  “I want you to tell me what a tramp Rachel is.”

  “Tramp?” Jordan didn’t understand.

  Sue Ann rolled her eyes toward the sky. “God spare me from innocents. Tramp, Jordan, like a loose woman who sneaks into your daddy’s bed at night when everyone else is asleep.”

  Something inside Jordan snapped. He wasn’t exactly sure what Sue Ann was driving at, but he knew from her tone it wasn’t nice. With a growl, he leaped from the stump. “Just leave me alone.”

  She blocked his path. “I’m not finished.”

  “I am!” He pushed her out of his way.

  With a shriek, Sue Ann flailed her arms and fell backward.

  Directly into the pile of steaming manure.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wade found dancing with Rachel a bittersweet experience. She glanced up at him, laughing, obviously enjoying herself, and he was amazed to realize he was enjoying himself, too. For the first time in years. And when his arm brushed the curve of her breast, he smoldered with desire too long forgotten. He wanted this woman, wanted her in his life, in his bed, wanted to feel her body joined with his….

  She fit into his arms as comfortably as if they’d been made for each other, two parts of a perfect whole. She was light on her feet, graceful as a butterfly.

  And probably someone else’s wife.

  He silently cursed his rotten luck. The first woman to make him feel alive since Maggie’s treachery, and he didn’t even know her real name.

  When the band ended their set, he was reluctant to let her go. She remained in his arms a beat after the music ended, as if she, too, was unwilling to break away.

  Until a bloodcurdling scream broke the momentary silence, and they jumped apart.

  “Stay here,” Wade ordered, then sprinted outside toward the rear of the barn where the shriek had originated. Several other men followed close on his heels.

  In the dim light, he could see a pair of white-clad legs kicking in the manure pile.

  “Don’t just stand there, you idiots,” the woman yelled at them. “Pull me out of this mess!”

  Nobody moved, and a few deep chuckles filled the odorous night air as the men recognized Sue Ann. Wade clamped his lips together to keep from laughing out loud.

  He heard Leo behind him. “Miss Swenson, what-cha doing in that pile of horse sh—”

  “Get me out of here, Wade Garrett,” she bellowed, “so I can skin that son of yours alive. He pushed me!”

  Wade sobered quickly at her accusation and glanced around to find Jordan nearby, eyes wide with apprehension.

  “Is that true, son?” Wade asked. “Did you push her?”

  Jordan cast his gaze toward his boots. “Yes, sir.”

  Jordan.

  In trouble.

  Again. Exasperation welled in Wade. “Why?”

  “She was saying awful things—” With a glance over Wade’s shoulder, Jordan broke off abruptly.

  Wade turned to see Rachel standing behind him, her eyes glowing with curiosity, her lips twitching in a barely suppressed grin.

  “It doesn’t matter what Miss Swenson was saying,” Wade admonished the boy. “Nothing excuses what you did.”

  Jordan hung his head again. “No, sir.”

  Rachel moved beside Jordan and placed an arm around his shoulders. She was hands down the prettiest, sexiest, most blood-stirring female Wade had ever met, and the desire he’d experienced while they danced resurrected itself.

  The sight of her with her arm around his son in a protective maternal gesture temporarily cooled Wade’s anger—until his memories of his father and his harsh discipline whispered in his head.

  Before Wade could fault Rachel for coddling the boy, Sue Ann shrieked again, her scream splitting the night air and making the hair on the back of Wade’s neck stand up. “Isn’t anyone going to help me up?”

  Wade hurried to the steaming pile, plunged in up to his ankles and offered Sue Ann his hands.

  Her body made a loud, sucking sound as he jerked her from the stinking heap of fresh dung. With muck matting her hair and dripping from her body, she resembled an alien blob from a class B horror movie.

  “Pew-ee!” Ken Johannson stepped forward to give Wade a hand. “That shore is pungent perfume you’re wearing tonight, Miss Swenson.”

  Sue Ann gained her feet and stomped her boots, splattering manure all around her. The watching crowd scattered under the shower of muck. Catching sight of Jordan, she headed toward him with outstretched hands until Wade caught her and held her back. His hands slipped on the muck on her sleeves, and she almost managed to break free.

  Wade tightened his grip.

  “It’s that little brat’s fault,” she yelled, kicking at Wade in an attempt to liberate herself. “Let me at him!”

  “First thing you should do,” Wade suggested calmly, “is go up to the house, change clothes and wash the muck out of your hair.” He released her, placed himself between her and Jordan, and shot his son a stern glance. “Jordan’s my responsibility.”

  “My clothes are ruined,” Sue Ann whined.

  “Send me a bill,” Wade said. “Jordan, Rachel, we’ll be heading home now.”

  Rachel steered Jordan toward the lane where the pickup was parked. Wade strode to the rear of the barn, cleaned his boots the best he could with fresh hay, and rinsed his hands under a spigot. Seething with frustration and anger, he stomped after Rachel and Jordan. The rest of the crowd had already returned to the dance, and Sue Ann had disappeared inside the ranch house. More than anything, he wanted off the Swenson ranch before he laid eyes on Sue Ann again. The woman was impossible.

  Not that Jordan was any better.

  His behavior had seemed to improve since Rachel arrived, but tonight, pushing his hostess into a mountain of stinking manure…

  Uncontrollable laughter bubbled up from deep inside as he
recalled Sue Ann’s appearance when she emerged from the dung heap. He fought to control it before he reached the truck. The last thing Jordan needed was to think his father approved of what he’d done.

  Wade swung into the cab of the truck, where Rachel and Jordan waited. No one spoke as he started the engine and headed toward home. He could have choked on the tension, but, afraid of saying the wrong thing, he said nothing.

  When he pulled up in front of the house, Rachel and Jordan climbed out. In the moonlight, he could read clearly the look in her eyes, pleading with him to go easy on the boy.

  But maybe that was Jordan’s problem. In order to make up for the loss of his mother, maybe Wade had let him get away with too much. Jordan had to learn a lesson.

  “Jordan,” he called sharply. His son stopped his ascent of the front steps and turned slowly. “Yes, sir?”

  “You’re confined to your room for a week.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The quiver in the boy’s voice almost broke Wade’s resolve. He could tell Jordan was exerting his utmost to keep from crying. “Ursula will bring your meals. And there’ll be no video games or playing on the computer.”

  “Wade—” Rachel began, but he cut her off.

  “Do you understand, Jordan?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean for Miss Swenson to fall. I was just trying to get away.”

  Jordan looked so contrite, so small and miserable, that again Wade almost wavered. Then he remembered his own father’s strong discipline and Maggie’s penchant for breaking all the rules, and he hardened his heart.

  “Go to bed, son. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Rachel caught up with the boy, hugged him and kissed his cheek. Jordan clung to her for several seconds before breaking away and running inside.

  Wade felt a pang of envy. He wanted Rachel to kiss him—but not that sweet, maternal peck. He wanted to feel her fire and passion, to taste her—

  “Weren’t you a bit harsh?” she asked when the front door closed behind Jordan, interrupting Wade’s wishful thoughts.

  He caught a whiff of himself, still sporting a layer of manure from his rescue of Sue Ann. Even if he felt free to kiss her, she’d probably as soon kiss a pig. As for her question, he was in no mood for discussion, and denying his inner yearnings did nothing to sweeten his temper. “The boy has to learn he can’t go knocking people down.”

  “What if it really was an accident, like he said?” she demanded in a soft, gentle voice that played havoc with Wade’s insides.

  “It’s his word against Sue Ann’s.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said bluntly. “That should make you think twice.”

  Rachel had a point. Sue Ann was famous for twisting the truth to suit her own needs.

  “Maybe,” she said, “you should learn to trust your son.”

  Frustration over Jordan and over Rachel’s unknown identity consumed Wade like ants under his skin. Exhaustion made him surly. “I can’t stand here arguing in the moonlight. I stink to high heaven—”

  “And you’re exhausted from a long day’s work,” she added reasonably. “You should get some rest.”

  She mounted the stairs and crossed the porch toward the front door. Somehow her sensible attitude only irritated him further.

  “Rachel?”

  “Yes?” She stepped to the edge of the porch, into a pool of moonlight that made her look as if she’d been dipped in silver, a shimmering goddess far beyond his reach.

  He wanted her to stay forever, to help him with Jordan, but most of all, to help him with himself. He needed her kisses, her soft touches. He needed her in all the ways a man needed a woman, a very special woman. He’d developed too hard a skin, too many rough edges since Maggie died. He wanted to make love to Rachel until he couldn’t draw breath.

  To marry her.

  Grow old with her.

  And he didn’t even know her real name.

  She was watching him, her feathery eyebrows lifted, her green eyes questioning.

  “Good night,” he said, his voice almost breaking with emotion. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “Good night, Wade.” Her voice caressed him like a kiss, and he had to restrain himself from bounding up the steps after her and pulling her into his arms.

  Only two things held him back.

  Her unknown identity.

  And an odorous coating of horse manure.

  FOR THE FIRST TIME since Rachel had arrived at the ranch, Ursula wasn’t in the big kitchen when Rachel went down for breakfast the next morning. She guessed the housekeeper must either be sleeping late after the night’s festivities, attending church or battling a bout of arthritis.

  Rachel made a pot of extra strong coffee to keep her awake. She hadn’t slept well, afraid to drop into unconsciousness and dream about Ray and her previous life. What she had already remembered wasn’t pretty, and she feared learning more. She was thankful now for Wade’s suggestion that she delay accepting his proposal. Before she made any commitment, she had to know the facts of her identity.

  But lying awake had proved as distressful as her unwanted dreams. She kept remembering the feel of Wade’s arms around her at the dance, how warm, strong and solid he’d felt. All night her rebellious body had ached for him with a passion that had overwhelmed her, making sleep impossible, even if she’d wanted it. The only way to cut short her suffering was to find out the truth about herself.

  She considered asking Sheriff Howard for help. After all, he had her mug shot and her fingerprints. But he was also Wade’s best friend, and she wasn’t sure she could trust the lawman not to tell Wade before she discovered what she needed to know. She needed to talk with Dr. Sinclair to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating a former existence before she proceeded with her search.

  Remembering Jordan confined to his room, she prepared breakfast for two on a tray, climbed the stairs to his room, and knocked lightly on his door.

  He opened it almost immediately, and when he saw her, his expression brightened. “I thought you were Ursula.”

  She was struck again by how much he resembled his father, which only increased her already sizable affection for the boy. “I brought our breakfast.”

  Anxiety glittered in his eyes. “Are you sure it’s all right with Dad?”

  Rachel stepped into the room and closed the door behind her with her hip. “He said you couldn’t leave your room. I didn’t hear him say anything about no one coming in.”

  She set the tray on Jordan’s desk and glanced around. For a small boy, he kept his room unusually immaculate. It contained the usual boy paraphernalia—bird nests, action figures, model planes and his budding rock collection—but everything was arranged with neatness and precision. His freshly made bed would have passed military inspection.

  “This is a great room.” She nodded toward the windows, where a pair of binoculars sat on the sill. “And you have a terrific view of the barn and the mountains behind it.”

  “I like to watch for birds. And at night I use a telescope to identify the constellations.”

  Her heart went out to him. Obviously the boy spent a lot of his time alone. At least he’d learned to entertain himself.

  “What’s that yummy smell?” Jordan gazed hungrily at the tray Rachel had covered with a clean dishcloth.

  “Oatmeal.”

  “Oatmeal! Major yuck!”

  She flashed him a smile. “Why, Jordan Garrett, how can you say that when you’ve never tried my oatmeal?”

  “Probably the same old lumpy mess Ursula tries to feed me.”

  Rachel whisked the cloth off the tray. “Does Ursula put cinnamon and brown sugar in hers?”

  The delectable aroma wafted across the room, and Jordan sniffed appreciatively. “I don’t think so.”

  “And raisins and walnuts?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Tell you what,” Rachel bargained, “try one bite. If you don’t like it, I’ll take it back downstairs and scramble you some eggs
.”

  He took the bowl and spoon she handed him and warily tried a mouthful. His lips lifted in a grin. “Wow, this is super.”

  “And there’s orange juice, milk and some of Ursula’s sticky buns.”

  “Gosh, Rachel,” Jordan said between bites. “This is fun. I wish you could fix my breakfast all the time.”

  With her own bowl of oatmeal, Rachel perched on the side of the bed. She, too, wished she could stay. To fix Jordan’s breakfast after a night spent with Wade…

  “I’ll make you a deal. As long as you’re under lock and key, I’ll bring your breakfast. How’s that?”

  “Awesome.” His expression sobered. “As long as Dad doesn’t mind.”

  “How can he mind? You have to eat.”

  “You don’t know my dad. He always minds about something.”

  Rachel thought of Wade and his ongoing frustration over raising Jordan alone. “You’re lucky your father loves you enough to keep you on the right track.”

  “I guess,” Jordan said with a sigh. “I just wish I didn’t make him mad at me so much.”

  Rachel didn’t know what to say. She wished she could tell Jordan she’d stay at the ranch and help him understand his father better. She wished she could stay to assuage the loneliness she glimpsed so often in Wade’s eyes, but she had no idea what her future held. Not until she figured out her past.

  “Rachel?”

  “Hmm?” She raised her eyes from her coffee cup to find Jordan staring at her.

  “You’re cool, Rachel. I wish you were my mom.”

  “I wish that, too, Jordan. I’d give my right arm for a son like you.” Tears welled unexpectedly in her eyes, and she forced a smile. “Now, eat up. There’re sticky buns left.”

  WADE PACED THE KITCHEN floor, waiting for Rachel to appear. He hadn’t slept well. All night, the memory of Rachel in his arms, imprinted indelibly on his muscles, had made him ache with desire. He’d lain awake and cursed himself for falling in love with a woman he couldn’t have. And he’d risen this morning with a headache worse than a hangover after a four-day binge.