A Marriage In Wyoming (The Marshall Brothers 3) Read online

  “Yeah, it’s a pretty special part of the country. I went away for a few years, but I don’t plan to leave again.”

  “Garrett said you’re a sculptor. That must be a challenge to combine with ranch work.”

  “It has been, especially this summer. We’ve hired a new cowboy recently, though, and he’s taken some of the load off. He would have been at lunch, but he’s out checking fence line today. We’re all doing two jobs—Ford’s got a law practice in town, Caroline still has her work with the Family Services office, and Garrett’s supposed to preach a sermon this weekend. I wonder if he’s written it yet.”

  “Is it strange, listening to your brother speak from the pulpit?”

  “Not really—he’s always telling me what to do.” Dylan laughed as he got to his feet. “Being a minister was all he ever wanted, almost as far back as I can remember. No matter what else was going on—rodeo shows, calving, storms or blizzards, Garrett was always at church on Sunday morning.” He took her empty plate and headed toward the trash bag tied to a tree.

  Rachel let her gaze wander to the man in question, now talking with Ford and Caroline. Before she could look away, he caught her watching. He didn’t smile.

  Dylan’s recollection confirmed some of her reasons for keeping Garrett at a distance. His commitment to his calling and the church he served couldn’t be ignored. However strong her attraction to him might be, the clash between their points of view would only produce pain.

  As if to test her resolve, he chose that moment to close the distance between them.

  “Did you get enough to eat? There are still a few sandwiches left.”

  “I did, thanks. It was delicious. Susannah must be a wonderful cook.” The words cost her some effort to say.

  But Garrett was all enthusiasm. “You wouldn’t believe the dinners she’s been serving up. We’re all buying our jeans a size larger these days.”

  Having noticed his flat waist and slim hips, Rachel didn’t believe that one. “Her son is one of the campers?”

  “Right. Nate’s a born horseman—I’ll be surprised if we don’t have him hanging around permanently. Which would be okay. He’s a good kid.”

  “And Susannah is your housekeeper? Has she been with you long?” Rachel didn’t want to examine her reasons for asking.

  “Only a few weeks. Her husband was causing trouble, so Susannah and Amber came out here to be safe. Now we’re wondering how we ever managed without her. Wyatt says he’s never eaten so well. Given that we’ve always taken turns cooking, I believe him.”

  She couldn’t help being curious. “I gather the four of you were self-sufficient as you grew up.”

  “We did pretty well taking care of ourselves, though there were definitely some lean times, especially before Ford got his job after school at the hardware store. But we survived. How about you?” he asked, propping a hip on the boulder next to hers. “What were your teen years about? Besides studying, of course. You must have been smart to get into medical school.”

  “That was pretty much the story,” she said, steering the conversation in a casual direction. “I had a single mom who worked two jobs and couldn’t spend much time at home. I kept the house neat and did my homework.”

  “In Seattle?”

  “Actually, I grew up in a little town about an hour north of Laramie.”

  “A Wyoming woman, born and raised? Is that why you came here to practice?”

  “That, and my scholarship required me to work here after training. But it’s no hardship. The rain in Seattle was a hardship.”

  “It would be for me, too. Did you always want to be a doctor?”

  Not an impersonal question, but she could deflect it. “Pretty much. That was the goal for smart kids at school.” He didn’t need more details.

  But of course he asked for them. “I suspect you had more than academic ambition as a motive. Most physicians I’ve talked to do.”

  Now she had to choose between being viewed as a snob and sharing some very personal information. “My mother had high blood pressure and a chronic kidney condition. We visited many doctors over the years who tried to help her manage her illness. I always thought they seemed to be in control of their lives.” She had to smile at her own delusion. “Now I know that’s not always the case. My mother would follow their directions and do better for a while, then fall away from her eating plan and prescriptions and get worse. As a teenager, I wanted to be the person in control, helping patients improve and then stay well.”

  Garrett nodded. “My mom had a chronic lung disease that eventually killed her. That kind of experience shapes you in ways you don’t always realize when you’re a kid.” He gave her a wink. “See, we do have something in common.”

  She wouldn’t concede that point so she tried deflecting again. “You and your family are giving these kids a chance to be shaped by the positive memory of your concern and attention this summer. That’s a very special kind of influence.”

  “We hope so. I hear you’re going to be part of the program next week, teaching lessons in first aid.”

  The change of subject was a relief. “That’s the plan. I’ve ordered them each a manual that they’ll be able to keep.”

  “What a great idea! I’m not sure all of them will use it, but some definitely will.”

  “You do have an interesting mix of personalities.” She was watching two of the boys wrestling in the creek, grappling with each other while striving to keep their footing on the rocks under the water.

  Garrett followed her line of sight. “That’s Thomas Gray Cloud, the shorter one, and Marcos Oxendine. Our toughest customers, so to speak. They’re always sparring with each other, with words if not fists.”

  “They’ve come to blows?”

  “Oh, yes. Both of them have hair-trigger tempers.”

  Even as he said the words, the pretend wrestling became earnest. After taking a punch that should have been light but clearly wasn’t, Thomas snarled and lunged at Marcos, grabbing him around the shoulders and bearing him backward. The other boy shouted and tried to push him off, then resorted to pulling his opponent’s hair.

  Ford and Dylan headed for the fight, with Garrett close behind. Before they could reach the pair, Marcos lost his balance on the uneven creek bed and fell backward, with Thomas on top of him.

  One of the girls screamed.

  The rest of the crowd watched in horror as Marcos’s head banged against a sharp-edged stone.

  Chapter Five

  Ford and Dylan pulled Thomas away. Garrett bent over Marcos. “You okay, son?” Gripping the boy’s shoulders, he looked into his face. “Still with us?”

  Wincing, Marcos raised a hand to the back of his head. “That hurt.” His expression froze suddenly, and he brought his hand in front of him. “I’m bleeding,” he said in a shaky voice. “My head is bleeding.”

  “Does your neck hurt?” Rachel stood at Garrett’s elbow with a thick pad of napkins in her hand.

  Marcos stared at her in confusion. “No. Why should it?”

  “Do you know what day it is?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the creek where that stupid pendejo pushed me.”

  One side of her mouth quirked in a smile. “Where is the creek?”

  He looked at her in annoyance. “The ranch. The Circle M Ranch. Why are you asking me dumb questions?”

  Garrett scowled at him. “To make sure you’re okay. Be polite.”

  Marcos rolled his eyes. “Can I get out of the water? I’m all wet.”

  Rachel watched his face, her gaze intent. She had her fingers at his wrist, taking a pulse. “Are you dizzy?”

  “No.”

  “Sick to your stomach?”

  “No. Just wet. And bleeding.”

  “Hold this on the cut.” Rachel slipped the napkins behind his head and put his hand over them. “Even small head wounds bleed a lot,” she told him, her voice calm. Then she glanced at Garrett. “
Let’s help him up.”

  Once on his feet, Marcos straightened his shoulders. “I’m okay. No big deal.” The boy was getting his bravado back.

  “I’m the doctor,” Rachel said. “I get to decide what’s a big deal.” She looked at Garrett. “Where’s the first-aid kit?”

  “At the house.” Ford had already marched Thomas toward the barn, no doubt with some sort of penalty chore in mind.

  “We’ll walk with him to be sure he doesn’t faint.”

  “I ain’t gonna faint,” Marcos declared. But his face was pale.

  “Why do the two of you go after each other?” Garrett asked as they headed up the hill, with Rachel on one side of the kid and himself on the other. “Can’t you just leave him alone?”

  “He can just leave me alone.” Marcos checked the bloody napkin, grimaced and put it back on his head. “He started it.”

  “You hit him hard.”

  “I was kidding around.”

  “You know what a temper he has.”

  “I got my own temper. And I don’t take stuff off little runts like him.”

  “So now you’re after revenge.” Garrett grimaced at Rachel, who frowned.

  Marcos shrugged his free shoulder. “If the chance comes around…”

  “Have you ever heard of turning the other cheek?”

  “What?”

  “Letting an insult go. Not getting revenge.”

  “What kind of man does that?”

  “One who wants peace.”

  The boy shook his head. “Crazy. You’d lose all your status.”

  “But you wouldn’t keep getting hurt, or hurting others. This kind of violence will get you into serious trouble.”

  They reached the front porch and opened the screen door. Marcos walked in before Rachel, but Garrett motioned her ahead of him.

  “First-aid kit?” she asked. “And a room with bright light?”

  “The kitchen.” Garrett led the way and pulled out a chair for Marcos at the table. Then he fetched the emergency box from its cabinet. “Here you go.”

  “Nice and big,” Rachel commented, pulling on gloves. “You’ve got everything I could ask for, since I doubt stitches are required. Put your head on your arms, Marcos. Let me examine this cut.”

  The bleeding had stopped and, after cleaning the cut, she confirmed stitches weren’t necessary. Fifteen minutes later, with a bandage wrapped around his head, Marcos resembled a wounded warrior. “Thanks,” he said, without meeting Rachel’s eyes. “Can I go now?”

  “You can go to the bunkhouse to change,” Garrett said. “And spend the afternoon without television or games on your phone. Read a book if you want something to do.”

  Muttering, Marcos left the house, letting the screen door bang loudly on his way out.

  “I don’t know how to get through to him…or to Thomas.” Garrett threw the bandage wrappers in the trash. “Talking hasn’t made a dent so far. Extra chores and curtailed privileges don’t work, either. I have to wonder if we’re bound for failure with those two.”

  Rachel raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And I thought you were an optimist. Aren’t ministers supposed to find the good in people?”

  “I do find good in those boys. They’re strong and confident and determined. With the right goals, they could both build successful lives.” He shook his head. “But how do I get them to understand that violence doesn’t solve problems?”

  “They might take more than a few weeks to learn that lesson.” She closed the first-aid box. “You and your brothers are doing what’s most important—giving them examples of four honest, patient, hardworking men who solve their problems with their brains, not their fists. Just by being who you are, you’re demonstrating what Thomas and Marcos can become.”

  He held her gaze. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  She looked away then, her cheeks flushing. “It’s just what I’ve observed.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty special, too.”

  Her defenses sprang up. “You shouldn’t say that.”

  “Of course I should. It’s true.”

  “We agreed to keep things casual.”

  “I’m really starting to hate that word.” He tried to rein in his frustration. “Ignoring what’s between us won’t make it disappear.”

  Her blue gaze turned fierce. “Yes, it will.”

  Around them, the house was still and quiet. Garrett knew they were completely alone. Reaching out, he took Rachel’s hands in his. “So you’re just going to pretend you don’t feel anything when my fingers touch yours.” He linked their fingers and pressed their palms together.

  “That’s right.” But she swallowed hard.

  “And it wouldn’t make any difference if I stroked your hair.” He let go of her left hand and skimmed his fingers lightly over the smooth strands above her ear.

  “No.” Her fingers twitched in his grasp.

  “So a simple kiss wouldn’t matter at all.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Of course not.”

  “Okay, then.” He leaned forward and set his lips against hers.

  Rachel didn’t pull away—he suspected she might be testing herself. He kissed her gently, exploring the sweet shape of her mouth, the smoothness of the soft flesh. She gasped, and her lips parted slightly, giving him more room to play, to coax, to invite.

  Her lips moved against his, tentatively, reluctantly.

  “No obligation,” he whispered. “No strings attached.”

  She relaxed under his touch, and started to return the kiss. The sensation went straight through him, head to toe, and his pulse jumped in his veins. But he kept himself in control, letting Rachel set the speed now. He didn’t want to scare her away.

  But she was the one who took the contact deeper, who stepped closer so that their bodies touched. Her hand came to his shoulder, holding tight as their kisses veered toward wild. Mouths sliding and clinging, the nip of teeth and the graze of a tongue—Garrett’s restraint was slipping. He ached to use his hands, to explore the curve of her hip and the swell of her breast. This was as close to lust as he’d come in a long, long time.

  And so, between one kiss and the next, he lifted his head. “Not so simple, after all,” he said, his voice unsteady. “Maybe you can ignore this. I can’t.”

  Rachel dropped her chin, which left her forehead resting against his chest. “You’ve made it very hard.”

  “Or it could be very easy to just explore where this goes, what we could find together.”

  She sighed, lifted her head and stepped back. Their fingers slowly untwined. “I don’t believe that, for the reasons I’ve already given you. There’s no point in building a relationship that’s going to fail.” Her somber blue gaze met his. “I also think a romance between us would make it harder for me to do my job with some patients. I can’t afford that.”

  Now that was an unanswerable argument. “I wouldn’t want to hurt your career.”

  She gave him a small smile. “I’m glad you understand.” Turning, she walked to the kitchen door before looking over her shoulder. “Tell Lena I’ll come back to see her at dinnertime.” Her footsteps echoed through the empty house and across the front porch. In the quiet, he could hear her SUV start and head down the drive.

  Garrett let his head hang and rubbed his hands over his face. His body still hummed with the desire incited by Rachel’s kisses…heart-stealing kisses he would never regret having tasted.

  But now she’d decided a connection between them would interfere with her practice. In that case, what could he do but leave her alone?

  Out in the living room, the screen door slapped against the frame. Boot heels sounded on the hardwood floors—Wyatt’s by the sound of the steps. Garrett sat on a stool at the kitchen counter as his brother came into the kitchen.

  “Did you get the boy patched up?” Setting his hat on the table, he started to make a cup of coffee. “Will he be okay
?”

  “Just a cut and a bruise,” Garrett said. “Rachel put a bandage on it and I sent him to the bunkhouse to consider his sins.”

  Wyatt snorted. “I’m sure that will happen. Those two kids are a combustible combination.” He joined Garrett at the counter. “Where is Rachel? I figured she might stay the afternoon.”

  “She…uh…had to leave, but she’ll be here to check in with Lena before dinner.”

  “Bisons Creek has got itself a real attractive doctor to visit.” Wyatt chuckled. “All the ranchers in the county will be going in for checkups.”

  Garrett didn’t find the idea funny. “I guess so.”

  His big brother shot him a shrewd glance. “And you’ll be one of them.”

  He shook his head. “What I want from Rachel Vale is not a medical exam.”

  “Sounds like there’s a problem with what you want.”

  “She won’t date a minister.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “She’s got some problems with my approach to life.”

  “Then maybe you’re better off without her.”

  “She also said being involved with me would be bad for her career.”

  Wyatt thought for a minute. “There are a few old guys around here who might give her a hard time about it. But then, they’ll probably give her a hard time just because she’s a woman.”

  “Right.” Garrett drew a deep breath. “But I can’t get her off my mind. When you find somebody who just fits, it’s damn hard to give up the possibility, you know?”

  “Yeah.” They sat in silence for a while, until Wyatt stirred. “All you can do is be patient. If it’s meant to be, she’ll change her mind.”

  “Not if we never actually communicate.”

  “She’s gonna be here every day next week. If you can’t manage to make some headway with her while she’s on the place, then you’re not working hard enough.”

  “Good point, brother,” Garrett said, regaining some of his confidence. “Good point.”

  *

  THURSDAY NIGHT, RACHEL decided she had to talk to someone. And at this particular moment, when her brain had become oatmeal and common sense had completely deserted her, there was only one person to call.