The Ranger And The Widow Woman Read online

  After supper and the mess was cleared away, Charlie announced they had to be getting back to the cabin. As they prepared to leave, Justine gave Violet a ledger, a box of statements and receipts and a few simple instructions as to what she needed done.

  “It won’t be any problem at all,” Violet assured the woman as they all walked outside to Charlie’s pickup. “Thank you, Justine, for supper and the cooking lesson. And the job,” she added, glancing down at the ledger and box she was carrying.

  “You’re more than welcome,” she said, then looked over at her son, who was letting down the tailgate of the pickup. “I’m glad you came, too, Charlie.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Tell Dad I missed him,” he said to his mother. “And that I’m taking Buster home with me for a few days. I need a watchdog around the place.”

  Charlie let out a low whistle. Three collie dogs suddenly appeared from the shadows and lined up at the back of the pickup.

  “Maybe you should take Jane or Judy. The girls are much better watchdogs,” Justine suggested.

  Charlie shook his head and tried not to notice Sam was hugging the male dog’s neck as if he were his greatest friend.

  “No. The girls will go off hunting on their own. I’ll take Buster. He minds better.”

  Laughing softly, Justine took hold of the collars on the other two dogs. “Obedience,” she said to Violet. “You’ll probably notice that’s a necessary commodity to Charlie. He hasn’t yet learned it doesn’t work on women, though.”

  Charlie grunted at his mother’s remark. “Maybe that’s why me and women don’t mix.”

  “I know,” Justine replied fondly, but wearily. “You’re the Lone Ranger.”

  Charlie kissed his mother’s cheek. “He was a good guy, wasn’t he?”

  She smiled up at him and patted his arm. “Only the best. Like you.”

  Violet couldn’t help but notice that he dismissed his mother’s praise as though it bothered him or as if he felt as if he didn’t deserve it.

  “Load up, Buster,” he said abruptly. “We’ve got to get home.”

  The dog instantly obeyed and jumped up into the pickup. Charlie fastened the tailgate back in place, and the dog’s tail wagged wildly at being the chosen one.

  “Buster goes for months without seeing you. But he never forgets you,” Justine remarked as she watched the dog do his best to lick Charlie’s hands.

  Beside Violet, Sam began to jump up and down on the toes of his tennis shoes. “Charlie’s taking Buster home with us! Buster is gonna go to our house, Mommy! Oh, boy!”

  Home. Our house. Violet didn’t know if Justine or Charlie noticed her son’s choice of words, but she certainly did. And it made her more resolved than ever to leave as soon as she could. Sam had already had enough turmoil in his life without having to be uprooted once again.

  Later that night after the three of them had made it back to the cabin and she’d helped Sam to bed, she found Charlie sitting in his regular spot on the front porch.

  He glanced up with surprise when she offered him a cold glass of iced tea. “I didn’t ask for this.”

  Did the man never have anyone simply offer him something without him asking for it first, she wondered. Did he never have a woman around to spoil him with little comforts?

  “No,” she agreed. “But it’s still hot this evening. I thought you might enjoy it.”

  His eyes narrowed skeptically, and for a moment Violet felt like dumping the whole glass over his head.

  “Don’t worry,” she drawled in a dry voice. “This isn’t part of a seduction. It’s not filled with some sort of aphrodisiac. It’s simple tea, ice and sugar. I thought you especially needed the last ingredient.”

  “Are you this smart with all the men you’re around?”

  He plucked the glass of tea from the small tray, and Violet eased down into the chair next to him.

  “I try not to be around men if at all possible.”

  He glanced at her to see if she was teasing. When he saw she wasn’t, he said, “You’re not a man hater.”

  If any woman had a right to hate men, it was Violet. But oddly enough she didn’t hate them. She didn’t even dislike them. She supposed there was still a part of her that hoped and yearned for a man to love her. Really love her with all his heart and soul. Not the halfhearted love Brent had given her.

  She sighed. “No. I don’t hate men. I guess I said what I did because...well, it’s easier for me not to have to deal with them.”

  “Do you miss your husband?”

  She couldn’t believe he asked such personal things in such a blunt, forthright way. And once again she wondered if it was the Ranger in him or simply his no-nonsense personality that made him shoot questions at her.

  “Sometimes. I miss Sam not having his father. And I miss...” Her words trailed wistfully away as her eyes scanned the dark desert hills in front of them. “I miss the way things used to be.” She turned her gaze back on Charlie, and something in his face, some wounded, needy look in his eyes drew her to him. And she realized she had to share at least a part of herself with him. No matter what it cost her in the end.

  “Used to be?” he asked. “You mean before your husband was killed?”

  She shook her head. “My...uh, my marriage was ending when Brent was killed. A few weeks before his plane crashed I’d gone to a lawyer and filed for divorce.”

  “I guess you’d think it impertinent if I asked why.”

  Violet stared into the glass of tea she was clutching with both hands. Charlie would probably never see her the same way again, but she couldn’t stop her confession now.

  “Brent had been having affairs. It was something that started about the time Sam turned two. Of course, each time I found out, he appeared to be remorseful about his behavior. He would always promise it would never happen again and beg me to forgive him. But he...always seemed to find another woman he couldn’t resist.”

  Charlie didn’t say anything for long moments. Violet forced herself to swallow a mouthful of tea in hopes it might ease the tightness in her throat.

  “Why did you stay with him so long?” Charlie finally asked.

  One of Violet’s slender shoulders lifted, then fell. “Because he was a very good father to Sam. And maybe—I don’t know—maybe a part of me kept hoping he really would change.”

  “You say he was a good father, but what about being a good husband to you?”

  She turned a mocking look-on -him. “How could he be a good husband when he was seeing other women? Or are you one of those men who think it’s okay and acceptable to keep a mistress on the side?”

  “I think if a man is crazy enough to get married, he’d better make damn sure she’s the only woman he’ll ever want. In my opinion adulterers are lower than swine.”

  She let out another long sigh. “Actually Brent was a good husband for the first few years we were married. But after Sam...I don’t know what happened. I’ve asked myself, a thousand times over, what I did wrong, what I didn’t have that made him seek out those other women. Over and over I blamed myself for not being woman enough to keep my husband home. I guess...I just wasn’t capable of being a mother and a wife at the same time. But that’s all over with now, and I guess I’ll never know.”

  Charlie watched as she took another long drink of tea, then place the glass on the floor beside her chair.

  She believed the past was over and done with, but he could see it was still eating at her self-regard. What manner of man could have left this woman and turned to another, he wondered. What sort of bastard could have hurt her so deeply? And not just once but many times over?

  “Have you ever thought that the trouble was with him? Not you?”

  For as long as she could remember, the men in Violet’s life had always blamed her for their weakness. To have Charlie, an unmoving mountain of a man, see and understand the other side of things was too much for Violet.

  Her chin dropped against her chest as tears rolled down her cheeks
.

  “Violet? What’s the matter?”

  She couldn’t speak. All she could manage to do was shake her head.

  “Damn it, are you bawling?” he asked gruffly.

  She shook her head again and pressed her fingertips against her closed eyelids.

  Charlie rose to his feet and stood in front of her chair. Violet’s watery gaze fastened on the toes of his brown boots.

  “No! I’m not bawling!” she muttered, but her voice was anything but normal.

  Moments of awkward silence passed, and then she felt Charlie’s big hand on the top of her head.

  “You shouldn’t be doing that, Violet.”

  His words and the awkward, yet tender stroke of his hand was too much for Violet. Jumping from her seat, she fell sobbing against his chest.

  Stunned, he looked down at her small hands clutching the front of his shirt, her dark head buried against his chest. He’d never had any woman cling to him with such fierce need, and to have Violet turn to him, ask him for comfort, filled him with emotions he couldn’t name or understand. He only knew he wanted her to stop crying, he wanted her to know that with him she would always be safe and protected. And loved.

  His mind tried to block out the word even as his arms moved around her. No, he didn’t love this woman, he assured himself. He simply wanted to ease her pain, to keep her safe, the way he should have kept Lupé Valdez safe.

  “You shouldn’t cry over him, Violet. He isn’t worth it. Besides, he’s gone. And you’re very young. You’ll find another man who’ll be much better to you.”

  She lifted her face and looked up at him. “I don’t want to find another man. After Brent, I don’t think I could ever trust any man to be faithful to me.”

  And Charlie couldn’t trust any woman to love him in spite of his job as a lawman. The thought twisted his lips to a wry line. “You don’t want a man. And I don’t want a woman. I’ve thought all along we were birds of the same feather.”

  Charlie believed she was like him? Sad and closed off and determined not to be loved? Surely she wasn’t!

  Wiping the last of her tears from her cheeks, she said, “I’m not like you, Charlie Pardee. You’re a totally unhappy man.”

  “I’m not the one watering the porch floor with a flood of tears,” he pointed out.

  Violet realized it was time to let go of him, to back away and remember why she was here on this ranch and who he was. He wasn’t a man who could help her. In the end he could only hurt her. Yet in spite of all that logic, she wasn’t quite ready to end the sweet pleasure of having his body next to hers.

  “No. You’re too tough to cry,” she said sadly, then tapped the tips of her fingers against the region of his heart. “But in here there’s a bucket of tears.”

  His features grew stone smooth. “And I’m sure you think you’re just the woman to dry them up?”

  “I wouldn’t be so vain to think any such thing. I just told you I couldn’t keep Brent happy. I’d be crazy to think I could put a smile on your face. I wouldn’t attempt to try.”

  He wanted to be relieved at her tough, indifferent remarks. But he wasn’t. A part of him needed to believe she was standing here in his arms because she wanted him, because out of all the men in the world, he was the one who could ease her aching heart. It was damn crazy thinking on Charlie’s part, but he couldn’t seem to stop it.

  Just as Violet was expecting some caustic remark from him, he shocked her by lifting her up and into the cradle of his arms.

  Gasping, she flung her arm tightly around his neck. “Charlie! What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking you to your bed. I think we’ve had enough conversation for tonight.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sam was gone. The realization shocked the groggy cloud of sleep from Violet’s head, and she bolted straight up in bed. It was well past sunup and the cabin was quiet. Was Charlie still in his bedroom asleep?

  “Sam!”

  Her call went unanswered and terror struck her heart. The last couple of days her son had grown comfortable with his temporary home in the desert. Had he gotten it in his head to wander off from the house to search for coyotes or some other such animal or bird Charlie had told him about?

  Snatching up her cotton robe, she wrapped the thin material around her and raced through the house. Neither Charlie nor Sam were in the kitchen or any of the small connecting rooms.

  Unmindful of her bare feet and flimsy covering, she hurried onto the front porch, then quickly stopped dead in her tracks. Sam and Charlie were out in the dusty yard tossing sticks for Buster to fetch.

  The black-and-white Collie appeared to be grinning as much as her son, and her heart wrung with bittersweet pain as she watched Sam hug the dog’s neck. Charlie hadn’t brought Buster over here to be a watchdog. He’d done it for Sam. Why? For her child? For her? Oh, dear God, she prayed, don’t let me soften toward this hard lawman.

  “Mommy!” Sam cried the moment he spotted Violet on the porch. “Come here and see how Buster can fetch! He’s real smart. See?”

  As Violet slowly moved down the steps, Sam reared back and threw the stick in his hand as far as he could. With a happy yelp, Buster immediately raced after it.

  By the time Violet had reached the two of them, the dog had returned. Sam took the stick from the dog’s grinning mouth and gave the animal another loving squeeze.

  “Isn’t he beautiful, Mommy? See how much he likes me? Charlie says you can tell when a dog likes you if he licks you and wags his tail.”

  Buster’s tongue was lapping at Sam’s round little cheeks, and Violet couldn’t help but smile at the picture the two of them made. “If that’s the case, then I think Buster likes you a lot.”

  The dog began to bark and taunt Sam to throw the stick again. As the child and animal played the game once more, Violet turned to Charlie.

  “I woke up and found Sam gone from the bed. I was frightened he’d wandered off in the hills.”

  His blue gaze drifted languidly up and down the length of her, and Violet couldn’t help but wrap the thin robe more tightly around her body.

  “You don’t have much trust in your son, do you?”

  She tried not to bristle at his question. “Normally, I do. But he’s a child. The desert might lure him to leave the safety of the yard and go exploring.”

  “I’ve explained the dangers to him. He knows not to go off unless I’m with him.”

  Her mouth fell open, and his eyes settled on her parted lips.

  “And you think simply telling him that is enough?” She snorted as she tossed back her tangled hair. “You don’t know anything about children. Their minds can change in an instant.”

  Charlie wished his mind could change that quickly. The sight of her naked face and the fact that she was wearing next to nothing under her robe made him want to take up right where he’d been last night on the porch. With her in his arms.

  “You’re right. I don’t know much about kids,” he conceded. “But you should give Sam more credit. He’s a smart boy.”

  He was a smart child, Violet had to agree, and she was only being testy with Charlie because she’d woken to such a fright. Sighing, she passed a hand over her face. “I know. And I’m trying not to...hang on so tightly. But when I woke up and saw him gone I... well, I was scared.”

  A few steps away Sam and Buster were playing tag, and it was easy to see the dog was loving the game as much as her son.

  “Charlie, can I race Buster to the barn and back?” Sam asked.

  Charlie glanced at Violet, then looked down at the boy, who’d trotted over to his side.

  “Your mother is here now, you should ask her permission.”

  Sam instantly latched on to Violet’s hand and tugged eagerly. “Can I, Mommy?” His finger pointed toward the barn which was less than a hundred feet away. “Just to the fence and back?”

  Violet nodded, and boy and dog took off at a run, across the barren yard. She watched the two of them for a
moment, then glanced knowingly at Charlie. “You brought Buster over here for Sam. Not for a watchdog.”

  His face stoic, he slowly folded his arms across his chest. “Now why should my motives be entering your mind? It doesn’t matter why I brought Buster home with me. Or you and Sam. You’re here. For a little while.”

  For a little while. Like a slap, his words shocked her back to reality, and it dawned on her how right he really was. It didn’t matter why he was being kind enough to house and feed her and her child. He wasn’t planning anything long-term. And neither was she. But deep inside her she knew saying goodbye to Charlie Pardee wasn’t going to be an easy thing to do.

  The wind blew her dark, tumbled hair across her face, and she was suddenly reminded that she’d only climbed out of bed a few minutes ago, the same bed that Charlie had carried her to last night, then whispered good-night.

  Looking at him now, it was hard to believe he’d held her, comforted in a way no man ever had. From the closed expression on his face, Violet got the impression he regretted those few moments. Or at least he never wanted to repeat them again. The idea saddened her. But she squared her shoulders and hoped none of what she was feeling showed on her face.

  “Have you had breakfast?”

  “I gave Sam some juice and I had coffee.”

  “I’ll go make us something,” she said, then walked slowly back to the house.

  Violet was on her way to the bedroom to change her clothes when the sound of a vehicle caught her attention. Curious, she walked to the living room and looked out the screen door.

  Charlie’s mother was pulling up in the same pickup she’d arrived in the other morning. Violet’s first inclination was to hurry to the bedroom and dress so Justine wouldn’t find her wearing only a thin bathrobe. But after a second glance it became clear the older woman had no intentions of coming in and staying for a visit.

  The older woman handed Charlie a small square of paper, spoke briefly to him, then said a few words to Sam and climbed back into her pickup.

  After she’d started the engine, Charlie leaned his head inside the open window and said something to his mother that caused the woman to shake her head, then he stepped back and lifted his hand in farewell.