The Gentrys: Abby Page 4

  Looking her up and down, he shook his head. "The gate just called. The first of our guests has entered ranch property. They'll be arriving within a half hour or so. I also know for a fact that some people are flying in, and they might be here anytime now."

  He took out a bandanna and rubbed at her cheek until it hurt. "Are you injured or is that just dirt and ash?"

  "Ow." Abby jerked her head away from his hand. "I wasn't injured until you started manhandling me."

  The look in her brother's eyes softened and he dropped his hand to his side. "Oh, Abby Jo, darlin', why can't you be just a little more feminine? You know I don't want to hurt you. I love you. You're really a pretty girl with so much to offer. I want you to be happy."

  "If you really wanted to make me happy, you wouldn't be having this party at all. You'd leave me be and let me prove my worth as a ranch foreman. Most of the other hands don't believe a woman can do the job of ranch foreman. I'm trying to win them over one at a time, and I'll never do it if you keep trying to turn me into a frilly little girl."

  Cinco's eyes teared over, and Abby was horrified at the idea of him actually crying out here in front of everyone.

  "You know, when you get your dander up like that," he began. "You look just like Mom used to when she was mad at one of us. Remember how her eyes used to spark just before she whacked us on the behind?"

  He put his hand on her shoulder. "Your eyes turn exactly the same evergreen color as hers did."

  Geez. Her brother sure was a softie inside. Too bad Abby couldn't find a way to use that so he'd back off her case and let her work in peace for what she wanted.

  Besides, Abby didn't want to remember what color Mom's eyes were, or anything else about her for that matter. She'd left. Disappeared. Never returned. That was all Abby needed to remember about her.

  Oh, mercy. She could see now that Cinco's eyes were about to brim right over.

  "All right, brother. I'll go clean up for your party." She adjusted her work hat and put her hands on her hips. "But don't go expecting me to actually look pretty for this thing. That ain't my style."

  Cinco smiled at her. "You just put on those new jeans and fringed shirt Meredith bought for you, honey, and you'll dazzle the whole of Texas."

  He turned to walk away, then stopped and turned back to her. "Oh, and, Abby," he said, then grinned again. "Try to have a good time. This is your birthday. Enjoy it, sweetheart."

  Abby was still muttering to herself hours later, standing right in the middle of the party. She had gone to take a shower, put on her fancy new duds and tried to get a comb through her clean, wet hair. That effort proved to be a lost cause, so she jammed her go-to-town Stetson over the mass of tangles dripping down her back and headed out to greet the nosy neighbors.

  Through the whole afternoon, she'd felt like a prize calf being judged at the state fair. One pair of local cow-pokes, with bobbing Adam's apples and dusty boots, ogled every inch of her body. She could almost feel them calculating her weight and whether she still had all her teeth.

  After shaking hands and smiling until her cheeks ached, Abby figured she'd been pleasant enough. When Cinco tried to talk her into dancing with a few of the good 'ol boys, she decided to sneak away from the crowd and get back out to the horses where she belonged.

  Lordy, but she wished for someone to save her from all this attention.

  Living on the ranch all her life, Abby knew how to sneak out behind the barns without being seen. Slipping away and heading for the corrals, she skirted the show barn where Cinco was showing off their new stallion.

  On the way, she figured she might like to get another look at the mustang herself before the sunlight was completely gone. So she quietly stole through the saddle barn and let the twilight hide her movements on the far side of the fencing, where the new wild Indian pony was corralled.

  She found a spot next to the fence in the shadows where she could put a boot up on a rail and admire the horse alone to her heart's content. And the mustang certainly was a prize to be admired, she thought as she looked through the fence.

  The parti-colored, Kiger mustang was really quite rare, and to Abby it was also quite beautiful. She'd heard Cinco describe the stallion pony to a neighbor. He'd commented on the fact that this mustang bore the prize pinto markings that the early Indians used to call medicine hat. In the waning sunlight, Abby could see its light-colored body, dark reddish ears and blotchy flanks and feet. As the horse ran the fence line, she saw the distinctive white shield on its chest.

  "You're doing that pony a terrible injustice," a baritone voice suddenly said from behind her.

  Abby gasped at the deep, quiet tone and sudden movement coming directly out of the shadows on her right. She turned to find Gray standing next to her, staring at the mustang who brushed past them at a gallop.

  "Can't you see how agitated that animal has become?" he demanded. "Don't you know better than to pin a wild pony in a corral while humans stand nearby talking and laughing in loud voices? And the smell of smoke from the barbecues is making him crazy."

  "Gray." She laid a palm against her chest and tried to calm her agitated breathing. "You nearly scared me to death. Where'd you come from?"

  He didn't turn to look at her, but continued to study the wild pony through the fence rails. "I came to see the new Gentry Ranch mustang." The corners of his mouth cracked up in what might be taken for a smile—on someone else. "That's what this party's all about, isn't it?"

  Too close. That was all she could think. The man was standing too close.

  She disobeyed her body's urging to run away, but did turn her face as he had, staring out into the corral. It didn't help.

  The heat from his nearness radiated right through her long-sleeved shirt. But the flush of warmth overtaking her came from deep inside, not from sizzling skin. And here she'd thought the evening had been rather cool up until now.

  Hmm. Had he just asked her a question?

  "How are you feeling, Gray?" She tried to steady her shaky voice. "I checked with the hospital, and they told me you'd gone home almost as soon as you got there. Have you recovered fully?" She sneaked a peek at him out of the corner of her eye.

  "There was no need to make such a big fuss," he dipped his chin. "Your antivenom did the job. Another couple of hours rest at the shack and I could've easily made it home on my own."

  Abby wished she could see his eyes. He sounded so stilted. So far away. It was hard enough to stand here beside him when he looked so tall and tough. The Gray she'd saved had been lean and muscular, but injured he hadn't seemed so … savage.

  Then he turned to face her. "The wind's changed."

  She'd been wrong to want to see his eyes. So wrong.

  They were black, bottomless pools that appeared to see right through her skin to the scared little rabbit hiding inside. She tried to turn her face toward the corral again, but his dark-as-pitch gaze held her spellbound and speechless.

  "The stallion is quieting some. Guess everyone's gone back to the tables to eat." He seemed about ready to reach over and touch her shoulder but stopped just short and turned back toward the corral. "Why aren't you off with the rest of them at the party, princess? After all, the whole thing is in your honor."

  Released from his scrutiny and slightly irritated by his words, Abby had to say something. "I'm not a princess and I don't like parties. And this one isn't in my honor. Far from it." She took a deep breath.

  Oops. That had been a mistake. Drawing his scent deep into her lungs, she could almost taste the tangy, wild fragrance that smelled like sagebrush, mesquite and lemons. She swallowed hard, making herself choke.

  He tilted his head to check her welfare. "You okay?"

  She could only manage to nod until he turned back to watch the horse again.

  "I spoke to my grandfather today about the … drums … from the other night," Gray said, while keeping his eyes on the horse. "I told him everything. Even about you thinking that I'd disappeared."

&n
bsp; "Your grandfather?"

  Gray fought to think past the odd erotic sensations that being near her was causing inside him. Hadn't he told her about his heritage? Guess he'd really been out of it the other day.

  "You understand I am one of the nemene … Comanche?"

  "Yes, but…"

  She'd hesitated, so he quickly continued. "Grandfather is a shaman, a spiritual teacher. He's from the old school. He believes in leading people indirectly to their own answers. This time it took me aback when he actually gave me a couple of real possibilities as to what happened to us." Gray shrugged a shoulder in frustration. "Of course, he answered a few of my questions with other questions and vague distortions. But that's Grandfather."

  Gray slid a glance in her direction. A few minutes ago, when he'd tried to face her, he'd felt the steam between them so strongly that he'd been forced to look away.

  This was absurd. She was just another woman. And a fairly tomboyish-looking one at that.

  He glanced down at her slender, firm body, and his mouth watered involuntarily. Her jeans fit tightly across her bottom, leaving him to imagine the view without the clothes. Her fringed, royal-blue shirt strained against her small breasts, making him long to feel the exact weight of those treasures in the palms of his hands.

  He shook his head and glanced at the heavens to clear the images.

  Gray could run ten days in the wilderness without food and very little water. He could stalk a deer without moving a leaf or ruffling the air. He'd even managed to hold his hand to the fire without burning the flesh when Grandfather had given him the order to do so during the manhood trial.

  Surely he could stand next to one young woman without succumbing to his most basic desires. Having any kind of desire, basic or not, for the wealthy heiress of the Gentry Ranch would be very foolish indeed.

  She gazed quietly up at him, expectantly waiting to hear what he had to say. He forced his own gaze back to the mustang and concentrated on retelling his grandfather's words.

  "After I told him about the drums and my … dream … Grandfather prayed for guidance from the ancient spirits." Gray suddenly remembered that he was talking to a white woman who did not know of the elders' ways. "You might think that what I have to tell you sounds crazy. / would, if I hadn't trained for most of my life to accept all the possibilities of the mystical realm to our physical environment."

  Abby blinked her eyes. Out of the blue, she relived the beating drums and the hysteria of discovering that her patient had disappeared.

  "I won't find anything you have to say about the other night any crazier than what I thought I saw with my own eyes." She put her arms around herself, trying to ward off an unexpected chill. "Go ahead. Tell me what answers your grandfather came up with. I'm open to anything."

  She'd been an eager learner in college, taking many electives she didn't need in order to satisfy her curiosity. Abby was truly willing to hear whatever Gray had to say.

  Anything to make sense of the other night.

  "Have you ever heard of a vision quest?" he asked.

  "Yes … somewhere. It's one of those New-Age things isn't it?"

  Abby could see the smile that cracked the corners of his eyes this time, but he still didn't turn to look at her directly.

  "Perhaps some modern groups have usurped the words for their own purposes. But the true vision is an ancient way of entering and communicating with the spiritual realm. To request and receive guidance from the ancients.

  "It takes many years of long search and much meditation to arrive at the point of being receptive to the grand vision of life. And yet—" Gray hesitated and looked upward to the twinkling stars beginning to light up the twilight "—it appears that I have had just such a vision. You were a witness to it."

  Abby didn't know what to say, so she kept her mouth shut and listened. At this point she was willing to believe just about anything.

  "Grandfather says that the spirits came to tell me I am on the correct path. That saving the mustang herd and bringing them back to the ancient hunting ground is what I am destined to do."

  Gray finally looked at her. "Mother and Grandfather had originally wished for me to be a tribal elder like my father. I'd been in training for many years with my grandfather, learning the old ways of the camps, the hunters and the ritual languages … until Mother died last year and left me the small mustang herd in her white-man's will."

  "I'm sorry about your mother, Gray. And I sort of understand about the vision thing." She pushed aside most of the questions that nagged at her. "But what on earth does any of this have to do with me? Why did I see what I did—or didn't—that night?"

  He nodded. "I didn't understand all of that, either. Grandfather says that a man must live his vision … unless there is a possibility that it was a trick of the mind or a sham of hallucination. Apparently, the fact that you heard the drums, smelled the smoke and found me gone makes you the proof of my vision. You are real, so my vision was real."

  Abby scrunched her face up, trying to find some shred of truth or possibility of reality in what Gray had said.

  "I know," he answered before she even knew what to ask. "It all seems impossible. You do not have the faith, Abby. You are not of the nemene. But sometimes your own experience will force you to become a believer."

  Without warning, out of the shadows of the saddle barn, a long, lanky figure came swaggering toward them.

  "Miss Gentry? That's you there, ain't it?" An obviously drunk cowboy wound his way across the yard and stopped in front of her. "I've finally found you."

  Abby searched her memory for this idiot's name. "I wasn't hiding … Lewis Lee, isn't it? I've just been out here looking—"

  The cowboy interrupted her words and grabbed her arm, steadying himself. "Your big brother told me I could have a dance. And the word's out you're available for more … maybe. But if it's games you're wanting … well, that's right up my alley, sugar."

  The smell of beer reeking from the man's body turned her stomach. She tugged her arm, trying to break free, but that only succeeded in making him tighten his hold.

  "Let her go and back away." Gray jerked at the surprised cowboy's hand, making the fellow lose his grip and balance.

  Abby was startled by the authoritative tone of Gray's statement. But while she watched the drunk stagger around trying not to topple over, she decided maybe she might just use that tone to her advantage.

  The cowboy finally managed to stay upright, though still leaning a bit to the left. "Hey, I know you. Ain't you some kind of kin to them Skaggs boys, Injun? They was the ones told me this little gal's free for the taking. And I mean to get mine first. What right you got to interfere here?"

  He started for Abby again, but she raised her hand, palm out, and ordered him to stop. She stepped to Gray's side and slid her arm around his.

  "Sorry, Lewis Lee. Looks like you and your buddies, the Skaggs brothers, weren't quite quick enough." She smiled at the way the drunk cocked his head and closed one eye, trying to put her into focus. "Let me introduce my new boyfriend … Gray Parker."

  She could feel Gray tense beside her, but he remained silent. "He does have every right to interfere. We've decided to see only each other from now on. We're a … couple."

  "But … but Milan and Harold … they ain't gonna like this none," the poor man stuttered incoherently.

  To Abby's great astonishment, instead of denying her claim, Gray lightly shoved at the cowboy's shoulder. "Get lost, pal. It doesn't matter at all what the Skaggs boys like or don't like. The game's over here. I won. This prize has already been captured."

  * * *

  Four

  « ^ »

  The drunk skulked away, mumbling to himself and kicking at imaginary obstacles in his path. When he was out of earshot, Gray untangled his arm from Abby's and stepped away from her.

  "Did your brother Cinco actually tell that cowpoke he could … put his hands on you?" he demanded, in a voice that sounded rougher than necessa
ry.

  "Certainly not!" Abby threw her hands on her hips and ground her heel into the dust of the barnyard. "Look. I appreciate that you bailed me out like you did, but that doesn't give you any right to question my brother or his motives. Cinco would never treat anyone like a prize to be won … especially not his own sister."

  She drew herself up to her full five foot four and raised her chin. "That drunken idiot misunderstood when Cinco was trying to get me to dance and join in the party fun. That's all it was."

  Gray loved the way her green eyes grew dark and blazed when she was riled up. There was a savage and passionate nature underneath that tomboy exterior; he could feel it. He wondered what else he could do to make all that heat bubble up in her eyes.

  "Well … I heard my stepbrothers discussing a rumor that Cinco was trying to marry you off," he said. "That this barbecue was just about finding someone to bitch you up with … sort of like a preview inspection for a horse auction."

  "What?" Abby paled and placed a hand against her chest as if she'd been struck. "No way my brother would ever do anything like that. Your brothers were lying."

  To Gray's dismay the heat was gone from her eyes. In its place was icy hurt … and sadness.

  "Then Cinco doesn't want to see you get married?" Gray had to find a way to get her talking—anything to remove that horrified look he'd managed to put into her eyes.

  She drew in a breath and rolled her shoulders. "Yes, I suppose he'd like to see me married … and happy … the way he is now that he's married. But…" Abby's eyes softened a little, and Gray felt the tension start to leave his own shoulders. "You have to understand what makes my brother Cinco tick.

  "When our parents disappeared at sea twelve years ago, my other brother, Cal, and I were still in school and Cinco was away at college. His whole world changed overnight. He'd always been a bit overprotective with the people and things he loved, but suddenly he was thrust into being the head of a multimillion-dollar ranch and having full responsibility for what was left of his family. He turned into a control freak whose only thoughts were of protection and trying to save all of us from ever having any more hurt. Then a few months ago, Meredith came into his life and…"