mean a damn if you're a rancher or a ranch hand or a man or a woman, if you live right and you love well and you do good, that's all that matters. Those two”-he nodded toward the cabin-“look at them, in the end they're buried together side by side, because they loved each other, and no one cares whether or not they were married or whether Bill King kept it a secret all his life that he loved her. What a damn waste of time!” He looked annoyed at himself, and she smiled at him and held out her hand.
“It's all right, Tate.” Her eyes were damp but she was still smiling, and he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Thank you for what you just said.”
“It must have been hard as hell on you when I left, Sam, and I'm sorry. Did you stay long after?”
“I looked for you everywhere for about two months and then Caro pretty much threw me out.”
“She was right. I wasn't worth the effort.” And then he grinned. “Then.”
She laughed at the correction, “And I suppose you are now?”
“Maybe not. But I'm a rancher now too.” This time they both laughed, and how comfortable it felt to be talking to him. It was almost, but not quite, like old times, when she first knew him, after they had begun to become friends. “Remember the first time we came here?” She nodded, knowing that they were getting onto delicate ground and they had already come far enough.
“Yes, but that's a long time ago, Tate.”
“And now you're an old woman.”
She looked at him oddly. “Yes, I am.”
He returned her gaze. “I thought you'd remarry.”
Her eyes turned hard for a moment. “You were wrong.”
“Why? Did I hurt you that much?” He looked sad for her, but she only shook her head and didn't answer, and he held his hand out to her again. “Let's go for a walk, Sam.”
“I'm sorry, Tate, I can't now.” She grew sad and insistent. “I have to get back.”
“Why?”
“Because I have to.”
“Why won't you let me tell you what I'm feeling?” His eyes looked very green and very deep.
“Because it's too late.” She spoke softly, and as she said it he happened to glance down at her saddle with a look of despair. As he did he frowned and was about to ask her a question, but she seized the opportunity to begin to ride away.
“Sam… wait…” And then, as he watched her ride along, suddenly he knew the answer, the piece that had been missing from the puzzle for the past two days, why she had done it, why she had come back and not remarried, why it was too late… “Sam!” But she wouldn't listen. It was as though she sensed something different in his tone now, and smacking the reins against Black Beauty's neck, she urged him to go faster, and as he watched her again for a long moment he was sure. The heels that had been so tight in the stirrups, that had pressed the stallion's flanks three years before, hung lifeless, toes pointed down. Never would she have allowed that to happen if she'd had any control. Now he understood the strange aspect of her saddle. He'd been so busy watching her that he hadn't seen the most important thing of all. But now he had to spur on the Appaloosa to catch her, and finally, just before the last hill before they got back to the main complex, he urged on the Appaloosa like a racehorse and reached out to the stallion's bridle and reined it in. “Stop, dammit! I have something to ask you!” His green eyes bored into hers, but when she turned, her blue eyes blazed.
“Let go, dammit!”
“No, now I want to know something and. I want the truth or I'll knock you off that damn horse I've always hated and we'll see what happens!”
“Try it, you bastard!” Her eyes dared him and she fought him for the reins.
“And then what would happen?”
“I'd get up and walk home.” She prayed that he would believe her.
“Would you? Would you, Sam? Well then maybe we ought to try it…” He made to push her gently from her seat and she forced the stallion sideways.
“Stop, damn you.”
“Why won't you tell me? Why?” His eyes were the greenest she had ever seen and on his face there was almost immeasurable pain. “I love you, dammit, woman, don't you know that? I've loved you every minute since I left here three years ago. But I left for your sake, not for mine, so you could go back to where you belonged with the people you belonged with and forget about me. But I never, ever, forgot you, Sam, I've dreamed of you every lousy night for the last three years, and now suddenly here you are again, ten times more beautiful, and I want you just as much and you won't let me near you. Why? Is there someone else? Tell me, I'll go away and you'll never hear from me again. But it's something else, isn't it? You're like the others, aren't you? Like the children? And you're as big a fool as I was then. I thought being a ranch hand made a difference, now you think not being able to walk does, don't you, because you can't walk, can you, Sam? Can you? Dammit, answer me!” It was an anguished roar as the tears poured slowly down his cheeks and she looked at him, torn between despair and anger, and nodded slowly, and then, with her own tears pouring freely, she pulled the stallion's reins from him and began to walk the horse away.
But first she looked back over her shoulder. “That's right. You're right, Tate. But the funny thing is that you were right. Oh, not then, but now. Some things do make a difference. And believe me, this does.” She wheeled the horse slowly. “Now do me a favor. You've said good-bye to your son and you told me what you had to tell me, now go. For both our sakes, go.”
“I won't.” He was adamant, more powerful than the stallion that she rode. “I'm not going, Sam. Not this time. If you don't want me, you tell me, and we'll see, but not because of your damn legs. I don't care if you can't walk or crawl or move. I love you. I love your head and your heart and your mind and your soul. I love what you gave me and what you gave my son, and what you've given to those children. He told me, you know, Jeff did. He wrote to me about the extraordinary woman who ran the ranch. The stupid thing is that I never understood what he was doing. I never knew that it was you. He had a lady boss here, that's all I knew. I figured some saintly crazy had started something new on Caro's ranch. But I didn't know it was you, Sam… and now I'm not leaving.”
“Yes, you are.” Her face was hard. “I don't want pity. I don't want help. I don't want anything anymore, except what I have-the children and my son.” It was the first he had heard of Timmie, and he still remembered what she had said in the past about not being able to have kids.
“You can explain that one later. Now what do you want to do? Race me for the hills? The barn? The highway? I'm not leaving you, Sam.” She glared at him for a moment, and then in utter fury she urged the stallion on again, back over the hills at an insane pace the Appaloosa was barely able to keep up with, but everywhere she went, Tate was right behind. At last, with even Black Beauty winded, Sam knew she had to stop. They were at the far boundaries of the ranch now, and Sam looked at him almost in despair as she slowed to a walk.
“Why are you doing this, Tate?”
“Because I love you. Sam, what happened?” She stopped at last and told him, and he shielded his eyes from the sun for a moment. She had told him about looking for him everywhere, about her trips and the commercials, about Gray Devil and the fateful ride. “Sam, why?”
“Because I was desperate to find you…” And then she whispered softly, “Because I loved you so damn much… I didn't think I could live without you.”
“Neither did I.” He said it with the borrow of three years of lonely days and nights. “I worked so hard day and night, and all I did was think of you, Sam. Every night I'd lie there and all I could think about was you.”
“So did I.”
“How long were you in the hospital?”
“About ten months.” And then she shrugged. “The funny thing is, I don't mind that anymore. It happened. I can live with it. I just can't force it on someone else.”
“Is there anyone?” He hesitated and she smiled and shook her head.
“No, there isn't, and there won't be.”
“Yes.” He brought the Appaloosa right up next to her. “There will.” And then, without further warning, he kissed her, pulling her body close to him and tangling his fingers in the precious golden hair. “Palomino… oh, my Palomino…” And when she heard the words that she had longed for for so long, she smiled. “I won't ever leave you again, Sam. Never.” His eyes held her tight, and then she threw all caution to the winds and told him.
“I love you. I always loved you.” Her voice was filled with awe as her eyes drank him in. Tate Jordan had finally
