Agatha Kristenson - The rancher_s wife

"You must be Meacham's daughter. I'm mighty sorry to hear the sad news, ma'am… you see, I've been gone for… a… while… Jesus Christ!" His voice trailed off incredulously as he recognized the mocking smooth face with the big green eyes and the straight streaked blonde hair that hung over one speculative eye. "What the…"

"I told you we were destined to meet again," Mela said slowly, her smile spreading. "I'm never wrong."

"But… But… I mean… I…"

She laughed at his confusion and the complete consternation in his face. It was fun to get any man that off balance, so taken aback that his mouth fell open like a beached fish. Mela looked him over, taking in the dusty boots, the tight jeans, the plaid shirt. Even in his work clothes he looked better than the fairies and pseudo fairies she'd run into all over Europe. He moved like a man and those two nights in Paris had proved beyond any doubt that he was a man… a real man.

"I could think of something better to do with your mouth than just let it hang open like that." Mela laughed deep in her throat as she saw a slow flush redden Cole's face from his open shirt up to his forehead that was striped where his hat cut off the sun.

"I don't like being made a fool of. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"You'd gone to Paris for something you couldn't get at home… there was no point in telling you I was from home… now was there?"

Cole could feel the blood heating his face, the fury pounding in him. God damn it! She was laughing at him, enjoying his looking like an ass! The memory of the feel of the young heiress's body came into his hands even though it was only his eyes that touched her. The jutting breasts, the sensuously slender body with the curved hips and long legs in the tight jeans that left nothing to the imagination, the narrow hands with the long pale pointy nails like claws. He felt the blood begin to pulse in his loins just looking at her, despite his discomfort. A thousand confusions and difficulties sprang to mind. She was Paris… there was no place for her in South Dakota or the part of him that lived here. To make matters worse… now that Meacham, was dead… she even owned a third of his bull.

Mela reached down behind her into the car seat and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it slowly, watching his confusion turn to anger and frustration and dismay. Blowing the smoke out in long wreaths, she looked up at him and felt the jolt again of his frowning eyes.

"It's damned awkward," Cole blurted, putting his hat back on to shield his eyes from Mela's green ones that glittered and mocked him in the sun that was beginning to beat down on the prairie. "I mean… well, your Pa and I had formed a corporation. That bull I went to France to buy… it was for the corporation."

"Then that makes us partners, doesn't it partner?" Mela whispered softly. Abruptly, she turned and twisted the door handle and slid into the white leather seats of the convertible. "I was just going to take a drive… look over the place. Come along and give me some advice. Since I haven't been home for years, I don't really know what Pa has now."

"There was some talk of your selling the place."

"That's one of the things I have to decide, maybe you can help me."

Kate took a huge basket of fruit out to the station wagon. It was hot already and she wasn't sure she could even be back in time to get the big meal on the table right on time at noon. Well, if she didn't finish with the old ladies this morning she'd just have to do some of them tomorrow. After last night Kate didn't think she'd better invite her husband's wrath about anything for a while and he wanted his meals on time.

She knew the back roads so well that she drove automatically. Getting the hand crafts from some of the local women had been a good idea, despite Cole's derision. The old fashioned quilts and the real Indian beading she ferreted out around the countryside were selling well in the little gallery she'd started in town. For the hundredth time she wondered why Cole always seemed to deride her efforts.

But Cole had always done that. It was as though he couldn't bear for her to have anything of her own. A child was the one thing he was going to make sure she didn't have of her own – or anyone else's.

He'd changed though. Cole was harder, more defensive than ever. Last night hadn't proved anything really except that he could terrify her with his temper… that he could force her to abandon any principle just to placate him. Mostly it had proved that she was willing to go to any lengths to get a child… any child. She wondered what he would demand next, knowing she'd do anything that might change his mind about a child. Kate blushed and shuddered a little remembering the perverted act Cole had forced on her. It was as though he had the whip hand and wouldn't hesitate to use it now.

But a woman shouldn't have to plead and cajole and connive to talk her husband into a child. He ought to want one too. It wasn't natural that a man didn't want children too… if he cared about his wife. Kate caught her breath. Maybe she'd have to face that too. Maybe Cole was behaving naturally for a man who didn't care about his wife. No. It wasn't possible. They'd been married ten years. They'd worked so hard together to build the ranch.

Sandy Gayman looked up as the red convertible went roaring out the driveway. Looked like Cole Sutherland's pickup parked out there. Hell, he wasn't due back 'til today, Kate had said. Must have come home early on account of Meacham dying like that so quick.

Sandy walked out of the barn doorway into the blazing sun, watching the red car become a speck. The big sandy-haired man wiped the back of his hand across his forehead leaving a streak of grease from the tractor he'd been repairing. Mela probably had to go into town to see the lawyer again. Probably Cole had to go along on account of the deal on the Limousin bull. But, Goddamn it, Mela ought to tell him what she was doing and why. A foreman couldn't handle things properly if he didn't know what was going on.

Turning back to the barn, Sandy wiped his hands on the greasy rag. Maybe he'd been too careful of Mela's mourning over the old man. He hadn't wanted to rush her and ruin everything but maybe it was time he made his move; after all he'd done all the work for a long time now. Meacham had leaned on him more and more until Sandy couldn't imagine the ranch suddenly belonging to someone else. By God, it wasn't going to either! He'd always known that someday Mela would come home and he'd marry her. She just had to get her running around over with… and he had accepted that. Hell, she wouldn't make much of a ranch wife if she didn't. He'd seen many a good woman ruined in ranch country because she married too soon before she'd had her fill of seeing the world.

But the time had come now for him and Mela. Sandy lit a cigarette and it dangled from his wide mouth as he went into the barn to get rid of the grease. Old man Meacham had thought they'd marry too. Made a whole lot of hints in that direction… had sort of advised the foreman to be patient and he had. But there was something about Mela going off like that with Cole without even telling him that stuck in his craw.

Kate moved the blue and white quilt she'd picked up from old Mrs. Watson to the back seat of the station wagon and slid across the seat to the passenger door, feeling the heat of the leather against the back of her bare thighs. The blackberries along here were too tempting. The bushes along the road here were heavy with them. They'd make really good deep dish pies for supper tonight. Sliding down the little ditch with her basket she made her way into the thicket and began picking.

The sun was so hot and the air so still that Cole could hear the whine of the flies and the bees. It was as though that buzzing whining urgency was in his loins and the heat and strength of the sun had gone straight through him all the way to his painfully hardening cock locked inside his tight jeans.