The Other Side Of Paradise

At thirty-four, he was sure of his control. After all, he’d been around beautiful women in abundance in New York, from top models in their fields to self-assured actresses and businesswomen to fresh-faced new talent just off the farm. He’d dealt with all of them as fairly and impartially as possible, looking only at their suitability for the job at hand. Or for a pleasant evening or weekend, no strings attached. He’d made sure his companions agreed with that philosophy. Marriage wasn’t part of the package.

Following the new wrangler’s gaze as she faced west and studied the famous mountains, he wondered if another snowbound winter on the ranch would change his mind. He smiled sardonically at the thought.

Chapter Three

Mary inhaled the balsam-scented air and decided she could stay here in this one place forever.

“Ready?” Jonah asked, rising from the boulder where he’d taken his rest. He tucked the remainder of the trail mix packet into his shirt pocket and took a swig of water from a plastic bottle.

“Yes,” she said, also getting to her feet. She’d gobbled down all her snack as soon as they’d taken a break. She was still hungry, she realized.

“Hold still,” he ordered.

She froze.

He smacked her on the back of her thigh, a glancing blow that startled her.

“What—” she began.

“A tick. You have to watch for them if you’re going to sit on a log. Turn around. Slowly.”

She followed his directions.

“Okay, I don’t see any others.”

Creepy-crawly sensations ran over her skin. She brushed vigorously at the back of her jeans, down her legs, then along her shirtsleeves just to be sure the little buggers hadn’t hitched a ride in a fold of fabric.

“Makes you feel as if you have a thousand of ’em on you, doesn’t it?”

She looked up to find him grinning at her precautions and nodded. With an effort, she refrained from whipping her hat off, releasing her braids and running her fingers all over her scalp, which now felt under attack from unseen little beasties with a thousand legs each.

“You’re okay,” he assured her, then laughed as she felt along her neck.

They mounted and headed out again. She wondered how long they would follow the steep game trail through the silent forest. They’d been riding for more than an hour and had crossed two ridges.

The answer came when the downward path opened into a meadow nearly an hour later. A carpet of white and yellow fall flowers landscaped the area. Cattle dotted the land, munching on the sparse grass and abundant flowers.

“Ah,” her boss said, “there’s Keith.”

She spotted the lone cowboy circling the far side of the herd. He waved his hat to indicate he saw them, too, then urged his mount to a faster pace.

Jonah waved, then reined up in front of a cabin built on a hillock overlooking the five-acre meadow. He dismounted, tied his two cowponies to a tree and indicated she should do the same.

“Are we spending the night here?” she asked, perusing the cabin which couldn’t possibly be more than one room. Would it hold three people?

“You are,” Jonah answered as she dismounted and tied her horse and spare cowpony next to his.

“Hey,” Keith Towbridge called, arriving at the cabin. He dismounted and dropped the reins, leaving his horse ground-hitched a few feet from theirs. “Glad to see you guys,” he added, smiling at Jonah, then surveying her.

Mary held out her hand. “Mary McHale, the wrangler,” she introduced herself.

“Keith Towbridge,” he answered and shook hands. He turned to his partner. “Everything looks good around here. There’s a young bear over near the Dalton line shack. He’s ventured this way a couple of times, but he’s no problem.”

“Cats?” Jonah asked.

Keith shook his head. “No signs of any. One was spotted over at the canyon last week. Scared a couple of vacationers in their camp, but it seemed mostly curious.”

“What’s the count?” Jonah next asked.

“Fifty-two mamas, fifty-eight babies.”

“Better than last year,” her boss said in pleased tones.

Mary listened to the report while she sized up the two men. Keith was about her height and her age, she thought. He looked younger than Jonah, who she judged to be in his early to mid-thirties. A wedding band reminded her that Keith was married and had a son.

“I’m heading home for the night,” the younger man told them. “We have a dozen head of cattle there. Janis and I’ll bring them over tomorrow. You two staying here?”

Jonah shook his head. “I thought I’d head back since we have several campers checking out today and more in the morning. Mary can keep an eye on the herd while you bring in the other cattle tomorrow. I’ll be back in the afternoon or first thing Thursday morning to drive them down the valley.”

Keith gave his partner a sharp glance, then turned to her. “You okay with being here alone?”

Mary nodded. Actually she was relieved.

“There’s food and firewood in the cabin,” Keith told her. “Nothing will bother you.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, smiling to show she wasn’t worried about the solitude.

“She prefers her own company,” Jonah informed his partner rather dryly.

“Actually I just like the quiet,” she said to Keith, ignoring Jonah and his conclusions about her.

“You’ll do,” Keith said with an approving grin at her and a speculative glance at Jonah. “See you tomorrow.”

She and Jonah watched him mount and head southwest. In a minute he disappeared into the trees. “Anything in particular I should know about the cattle?” she asked.

“No. Just keep an eye on them. There’s a creek near here. We’ll water the horses, then I’ll lay a fire in the stove and show you where everything is.”

She followed his example in caring for their mounts, leaving her ponies hobbled in the meadow with the herd while he switched his saddle to his spare. He went into the cabin.

Mary observed from the door while he laid pine cones, kindling and wood in the old-fashioned iron stove set on a hearth of field stones at one end of the cabin. “Matches,” he said, holding up the box to show her. After she nodded, he replaced them on the shelf mounted on the wall.

He pointed to one side of the wood stacked in a corner. “Old newspapers, in case you need them to get the fire started. Sometimes it’s hard to get the stovepipe to draw.”

“You have to heat the cold air to get an updraft going,” she said to let him know she understood how to start a blaze in the potbellied stove.

Two double bunks, stacked on opposite walls, offered resting places for four people, she noted.

“Blankets,” Jonah said, removing the top from a barrel. He tossed three of them on one of the bunkbeds. “There’s soup, crackers, a can opener.” He pointed out the items.