A COWBOY'S PROMISE Read online

  Her memories had given her hope.

  They gave him hope now—of a very different kind.

  They gave him hope that all was not lost, that her rejection was not permanent, that her hurt could be assuaged and overcome.

  She loved him.

  "Hate to ask you, Caity," her father said, smiling vaguely at her from the armchair by the window. "I know it's your only day off."

  "I don't mind," Cait said. "It's a nice break, checking cattle."

  "You'll miss it if you go to Denver," her father said.

  "When I go to Denver," Cait corrected. But then she admitted what he was getting at. "Yes, I will."

  She loved the ranch, loved the rural work each season.

  "Maybe you should talk him into stayin' here."

  She shook her head. "He wants to go someplace bigger. He wants to teach."

  "What do you want, Caity?" Her father's pale-blue eyes watched her curiously.

  Cait took a breath. "Him," she said firmly. "I want him."

  It was a shock the first time he saw the bears.

  Charlie hadn't ever seen a bear outside of a zoo. It was a little daunting to realize there was no barricade between him and the natural world.

  It was fascinating, too.

  He crouched behind a clump of scrub to watch them. There was a mother and two cubs along the side of the creek. The mother was poking at something. The cubs were watching. Then she waded in. They splashed. She gave them a hard, maternal look.

  Charlie smothered a grin. He lifted his camera.

  He began to shoot.

  At first he didn't understand what he was seeing. Then he did. It was a lesson. How to catch a fish. Charlie shot half a dozen rolls, entranced. His leg throbbed, but he barely noticed.

  First one cub, then the other took swipes at the water, splashing. Mother bear demonstrated again. One of the cubs fell in headfirst.

  Charlie smothered a laugh.

  He shifted, shot, reloaded. And finally got the moment of triumph on film, when one of the cubs came up with a fish about the size of his hand.

  Mother bear looked approving, then turned her back and plodded away into the trees. The cubs splashed for a moment longer, then hurried after her.

  And Charlie sat back for the first time in over an hour and realized he could barely bend his knee.

  He swore and struggled to his feet. It was a hot afternoon, and flies buzzed around him. He swatted at them, but he didn't think about them. He thought about the bears.

  He'd got some good shots. He could sense it. The feeling of exhilaration was back. The energy. If he could find them again tomorrow…

  Considering the possibilities, he wasn't watching the ground. He didn't notice the loose rock until his foot hit it. His weak leg buckled and he tumbled. Years of quick thinking inspired him to tuck his body and roll, protecting his camera as he fell. He didn't manage to protect himself.

  He crashed down the hillside until he hit a clump oft brush.

  Stunned, Charlie lay there, gathering his wits, tasting blood. Then slowly he hauled himself to a sitting position, breathing hard.

  There was blood in his mouth from a split lip. His face was scratched. His shirt was ripped. He was dirty and scraped up, but he didn't think he'd done any serious damage. Thank God.

  It suddenly occurred to him how on his own he really was.

  Carefully he hauled himself to his feet. His leg buckled, and he grabbed for a handhold on a pine tree to steady himself. Gingerly he tested it again. It hurt. A lot.

  He'd have to put ice on it when he got back to the cabin.

  Except he didn't have any ice. The tiny generator-run refrigerator didn't have a freezer compartment.

  Too bad. But he'd survive. He'd just hurt for a while.

  Slowly, carefully, he turned and, watching what he was doing this time, once more started down.

  It was when he heard the sound of a small creek that he had a brainstorm. The creeks up here were nothing but snowmelt. Not quite ice but close. He had learned that wading across one the first morning he'd been there.

  On that same hike he'd passed another creek where a natural curve had created a water hole on the far side of one of the fence lines. It had looked like a nice place to take a dip, provided you didn't mind feeling like an ice cube. At the time he'd shuddered at the thought.

  Now he didn't.

  And even though he could see what looked like possible rain clouds gathering off to the west, he headed in that direction.

  When he reached the fence, he gritted his teeth and ducked between the strands of barbwire, then laboriously climbed the hill that overlooked the water hole.

  A black horse grazed beneath the cottonwoods, and a pile of clothes sat on a nearby rock. As he watched, a sleek dark head surfaced, and a slim naked body emerged from the water.

  It wasn't a cowboy.

  It was way too curvy for a cowboy.

  Way too gorgeous.

  Way too female.

  Charlie stopped dead and stared at the naked woman coming out of the water toward him.

  Then as he realized who it was, his heart caught in his throat.

  What sort of sense of humor did God have?

  Cait certainly didn't think it was funny when she walked out of the water hole, looked up and saw Charlie Seeks Elk!

  She seriously considered plunging straight back in. She didn't because she refused to let Charlie know he had any effect on her.

  In fact, she felt as if she had been run over by a truck.

  "What are you doing here?" Then, "What happened to you?" she demanded as she got a look at his scratched, battered clothes and face. And all the while she was trying to get to her clothes.

  Charlie unfortunately was in the way. He was grinning ear to ear, limping rapidly down the hill toward her, and apparently not even aware that he was bloody and battered.

  "Stop that!" Cait snapped. She glared at his grinning face, furious, embarrassed and mostly willing him to turn around so she could go past him to get to where she'd left her clothes.

  Of course he didn't.

  "You could turn around," she said frostily. "It would be polite."

  Charlie let out a half laugh. "Come on, Cait. You know better than that."

  She did, unfortunately. So still steaming, she stalked past him, snatched up her shirt and yanked it on, not bothering with her bra.

  She would have needed to dry off before putting that on, and she didn't want to expose herself any more than necessary. At least her shirt had long tails and would cover essentials. She should have known better than to come and take a swim. She wasn't a child anymore.

  But today was her day off from the clinic, and she'd spent the entire day moving cattle. It made a change from teaching childbirth classes and seeing pregnant mothers and delivering babies, but she had been hot and tired when she'd finished.

  Clouds behind the Bridgers looked as if they might bring rain eventually, but that would have been nowhere near as refreshing as a quick, cool dip.

  It had been a spur of the moment decision to take a plunge. And obviously a huge mistake.

  As soon as she had her shirt on and buttoned, she stepped into her panties and dragged them on, then wriggled to get them up over her damp hips. All the while she as aware of Charlie watching her. Once upon a time she'd liked his eyes on her. They'd made her feel desirable and sexy—and loved. Now they just made her angry.

  With her panties and shirt on and her jeans clutched in front of her, Cait felt covered enough to turn and fix him with a hard stare. "What are you doing? Why are you still here?"

  Charlie nodded in the direction from which he'd come. "I'm staying at a place over the hill there. I'm renting a cabin from McCalls."

  Cait didn't like the sound of that. "Why?"

  "Well, I started because you're here."

  She gaped. "You're spying on me?"

  "Of course not. This was—" he grinned lopsidedly "—pure luck. I had to stay somewhere, did
n't I?"

  No, he didn't. He should have been long gone.

  But before she could say so, he continued, "And Gaby knows Brenna. It's also for my work."

  "Is there a war going on in Montana I haven't heard about?" she said sarcastically. From the look of him it seemed possible.

  "You mean besides ours?"

  "We don't have a war, Charlie. We don't have anything."

  "We have a past."

  "Exactly."

  "And I want us to have a future."

  "No."

  "I'm not going to pressure you."

  Oh, right. "Then what the hell are you doing here? And don't give me that crap about your work. You shoot wars, tragedies, devastation, pain."

  "I'm not doin' that anymore."

  "What are you doing? Sunsets? Wildflowers? Snowcapped mountain peaks?" she asked flippantly. Charlie had had no use for those kinds of photos when she'd known him.

  But he didn't take offense. He said quite seriously. "I wasn't exactly sure, but I think today I might have hit on something. I got some good bears."

  Cait stared. "Bears?"

  "There were bears up by the creek. A mother and two cubs. She was teaching 'em how to fish."

  She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it, but the look on Charlie's face at the memory of the bears was very like the eagerness he'd shown two years ago faced with a far different scene.

  "And they attacked you?" she asked dryly.

  He glanced down, almost surprised, as if his clothes belonged to someone else. "Not quite." He shrugged as if it didn't matter. "I fell." His grin quirked for a moment, then, as his gaze dropped and she saw him staring at her legs, the grin faded. He said abruptly, "Do you suppose you could put on those jeans?"

  Could she put on her jeans?

  As if she'd been standing here trying to seduce him by flaunting her nakedness! Cait felt as if she was burning up!

  "By all means," she said through clenched teeth. But she made no move to do so, continuing to glare at him, waiting, until finally he got the point and, giving a negligent shrug, turned around.

  Fortunately, the breeze had dried her legs a bit, making it easier for her to stuff first one and then the other into her jeans, which she then dragged up, zipped and snapped.

  "There." She glared at his back until he turned around.

  "I'm just a little susceptible," Charlie said, not at all repentant. "You remember."

  Cait gritted her teeth because, damn it, she did remember. And she didn't want to. It was all too easy to remember when they had been able to heat each other's blood with a mere glance. "Well, I certainly don't want to provide any temptation."

  Charlie's smile was rueful. "You don't have to try."

  Cait felt her entire body warm under his gaze. "You should put something on that lip," she said gruffly.

  Charlie dabbed vaguely at his mouth. "I will. It's why I came here. And I was going to soak my leg." He nodded toward the one he'd been favoring as he'd limped down the hill.

  "Did you hurt it?" It was the nurse in her asking. She certainly wasn't asking because she cared.

  "Maybe when I fell. It's not a big deal. But the doc always said to put ice on it. And I don't have any ice. But I remembered the water hole."

  "I'll leave you to it, then." She bent to snag her boots and socks, then started toward her horse, relieved at the reprieve.

  But before she'd got ten feet he called her name. "Cait!"

  Reluctantly she turned back. "What?"

  "Stay."

  And watch him take off his jeans and soak his leg? "Can't. I've got things to do," she said hastily.

  He cocked his head, smiling at her. "You're afraid."

  She was surprised there wasn't steam coming out of her ears. "Afraid? Of what?"

  "Realizing you still love me … want me." The words were said softly, but the challenge was clearly there.

  "If you're implying I can't resist your manly body, you are so wrong."

  "Prove it."

  Cait lifted her chin and said recklessly, "All right. I will. Go ahead. Undress. Take your jeans off in front of me. See if I care."

  Slowly Charlie's hands went to his belt buckle and—damn him!—he began to do just that.

  Charlie had never been self-conscious about his body before.

  He'd never minded women studying him naked. While he personally didn't think men's bodies were nearly as impressive as women's, he'd always been proud of his lean, hard physique and the muscles that he could flex with ease.

  He'd never even minded them tracing the nicks and gouges and scars from his rough-and-tumble past. They'd been badges of honor, signs of his toughness and determination to survive.

  That was then.

  Now it wasn't the same.

  His body wasn't the same, he realized about the time he began to unbuckle his belt. It was no longer lithe and fit and supple. His wounded leg, with its angry red scar tissue and atrophied muscles was nothing to admire. On the contrary, the very sight of it would probably put Cait off. So would the scar on his chest.

  A couple of years from now, they might look like badges of honor. Right now they looked like hell, and he realized that he didn't want to show them to anybody—much less the one woman in the world he wanted to impress.

  Too bad you didn't think of that sooner, he mocked himself, because Cait, having taken his dare, was standing there, barefoot and unblinking, watching him.

  His hands hesitated at the top of his zipper. He imagined opening it, then shoving his jeans down, and watching her look of shock and horror.

  He imagined her comparing his body with that of her cardiologist boyfriend. Charlie couldn't believe the guy was a real hunk, but he probably wasn't a walking disaster, either.

  Slowly his hands fell to his sides. He shook his head. "Never mind."

  Cait did blink then. "Never mind?" She gaped.

  "Why?"

  He shrugged irritably and jerked his head toward the sky behind her. "There's a storm brewing." The clouds creeping over the tops of the Bridgers were bigger and darker looking now. "You should get home."

  Cait didn't even glance over her shoulder. "There was a storm brewing two minutes ago."

  "Yeah, well, I forgot you would have to ride all that way. Open air. Tall object. Lightning strikes. It took a while, but I finally figured it out. I'm a city boy, remember? Go on now. Or you'll get soaked."

  But Cait, damn her, didn't budge. She was regarding him closely. "Charlie, are you all right?"

  "Of course I'm all right!" He glared at her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  "Your leg—"

  "My leg's fine. I told you. I just had second thoughts. I know enough to get in out of the rain, even if you don't!"

  When she still didn't move, he shrugged. "Well, fine, stand there. I don't care. Show's over. If you're not goin' home, that's your problem. I'm outa here."

  He would have turned on his heel and stalked up the hill, but doing so would have sent him sprawling. Instead he carefully turned sideways and then sideways again, until he could head back the way he'd come.

  As he climbed the slope he listened for the sound of her putting on her boots or her footsteps heading toward her horse. He didn't hear anything until he was close to the top of the hill.

  Then she called out, "Show's over? Doesn't look to me like it even started!"

  The trouble with being a nurse was you felt so responsible.

  You saw someone hurting and you felt compelled to help.

  If she were sane and sensible and not a nurse, Cait told herself, she would be home reading a book or playing cribbage with her father this evening instead of climbing the steps to the McCalls' cabin and banging on the door.

  "It's open," Charlie's voice called from inside.

  She turned the knob and gave the door a shove.

  To say that he was surprised to see her would have been an understatement. He was lying on the bed, still wearing the dusty, torn jeans and shirt he'd bee
n wearing this afternoon, and at the sight of her he sat up abruptly and said, "Well, hell."

  "Nice to see you again, too," Cait said crisply. She stepped inside and shut the door behind her. One look at him told her she'd been right.

  "You haven't even washed up," she accused him.

  "Excuse me?"

  Cait flipped a hand in his direction. "Look at you. You're a mess. Still. Don't they have running water up here? Of course they do. Then why didn't you use it? You shouldn't even be up here walking around on that leg. Sit on the edge of the bed and take your shirt and jeans off."

  She didn't look in his direction when she spoke, instead rummaged in her duffel bag, then set out a plastic bottle of saline solution and some telfa pads and gauze, determined that her professional demeanor would distract from any telltale heat in her face.

  "Take my—" Charlie began.

  "Take your shirt and jeans off. I'll be right back," she said and hurried out the door.

  She'd ridden home mortified at her afternoon encounter with Charlie at the swimming hole. But the longer she'd been home, the less she'd thought about her own mortification and the more she'd thought about Charlie instead.

  He had clearly been ready to strip off in front of her, and then he'd abruptly changed his mind.

  Why?

  Obviously because it hurt too damn much, and he was self-conscious about it. Stupid man!

  She'd told herself it served him right. But she was a nurse.

  Concern had niggled at her all during dinner. Afterwards, she usually tried to get her father to play cribbage. Tonight he had looked surprised when she said she'd be back later, that she had to go back up on the range instead.

  She had loaded up their cooler with ice, ice packs and flexible wraps, then tossed in her duffel with medical supplies and some nonprescription painkillers just in case.

  "Somethin' wrong with one of the horses?" her father had asked

  "One of the mules," Cait had muttered, which was close to the truth.

  Now she got the cooler out of the back of her pickup, slammed the gate and lugged the cooler up the hill toward the cabin.

  Charlie came to the door as she was climbing the steps. "For God's sake, Cait!" He hobbled to help her.