most.
I've never known him to care about a woman. It's as if he's afraid
of any deep emotional involvement. Even Lida- that was a physical
thing, you know."
"Everything… with him is…physical," she wept.
"His father loved his mother deeply," Emma recalled, gently
smoothing the dark waving hair on her knee. "But Mrs. Ray-gen was
never able to return that love, even though she was fond of him.
Perhaps the age difference was really too much. But Clint sensed
that lack of balance in his parents' marriage, and it affected him.
Love is a word he doesn't understand, my darling," she sighed. "I'm
sorry it's taken you so many years, and so much heartache, to
learn it."
"Oh, Emma, so am I," she whispered.
Six
Dr. Brown wanted to see her immediately, and she went
reluctantly with Clint to his office to spend over an hour being
X-rayed and probed and checked from head to toe. It was a mild
concussion, and she was sent home with orders to stay in bed for at
least twenty-four hours and for Clint to contact him if there were
any nausea or unusual sleepiness.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
Maggie said tersely on the way home, drowsy already from the
office visit and emotional stress. "I'll make up my work."
He took a long draw from his cigarette. "No sweat, Maggie," he
said.
She leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes. She
was already asleep when they got back home, not even aware of being
carried upstairs and tucked in her bed. Not aware of the tall,
solemn figure that sat quietly watching her for the better part of
an hour with an intensity that would have shaken her if she'd seen
it.
The next day, she was sore and stiff, but the headache had
eased, and some of the heartache with it. Another week and she
could go back to the apartment, and Janna, and a new job, and leave
all this behind. All this. Clint. Clint! Her eyes closed
miserably. This time, she'd have to leave him behind for
good. No more trips to the ranch, ever, not even for a few days in
the summer, and Emma wouldn't understand and neither would Janna.
There'd have to be a very good excuse by then. Maybe if she had an overseas
job…
"You'll have premature wrinkles if you keep scowling like that,"
Clint remarked from the doorway.
She spared him a quick glance, noting that he was dressed in a
neat gray business suit instead of his jeans, and his dark head was
bare. He looked more like a businessman than a rancher-and
devilishly attractive.
"Going away, I hope?" she asked sweetly, concentrating on her
cold hands.
"For a few days," he replied, a mocking smile touching his
hard mouth. "I thought that might cheer you up."
"It's doing wonders for my disposition," she agreed.
There was a long pause before he shouldered away from the
door and came to stand beside the bed, his eyes dark green and
strangely solemn as he looked down at her.
"Head better?" he asked.
She nodded. "Lots, thanks."
"Look at me."
The quiet note in his deep voice brought her eyes up to meet his
in a silence laced with tension.
"I want to know," he said, "why you were afraid to touch me that
day by the stream."
She felt and hated the color that warmed her cheeks. "It's over,
can't we just…?"
"Hell, no, we can't!" he shot back, his whole look threatening.
He sat down beside her on the bed. "Tell me."
She pressed back against the pillows in an effort to escape any
physical contact with him. "It's just a game with you," she said
quietly. "You know a lot about women and you can tie me in knots
without really trying, and you enjoy taunting me with it. But
I'm not a toy, Clint, I'm a human being, and I don't like being…
used!"
He stared at her without any expression at all in his dark face. "You thought I was…playing, Maggie?"
he asked.
Her eyes riveted themselves on the silken knot of his tie. "I
should never have come," she said softly, regret in her tone. "That
summer I made a fool of myself is still there, like a curtain you
like to pull down often enough that I'll
I've never known him to care about a woman. It's as if he's afraid
of any deep emotional involvement. Even Lida- that was a physical
thing, you know."
"Everything… with him is…physical," she wept.
"His father loved his mother deeply," Emma recalled, gently
smoothing the dark waving hair on her knee. "But Mrs. Ray-gen was
never able to return that love, even though she was fond of him.
Perhaps the age difference was really too much. But Clint sensed
that lack of balance in his parents' marriage, and it affected him.
Love is a word he doesn't understand, my darling," she sighed. "I'm
sorry it's taken you so many years, and so much heartache, to
learn it."
"Oh, Emma, so am I," she whispered.
Six
Dr. Brown wanted to see her immediately, and she went
reluctantly with Clint to his office to spend over an hour being
X-rayed and probed and checked from head to toe. It was a mild
concussion, and she was sent home with orders to stay in bed for at
least twenty-four hours and for Clint to contact him if there were
any nausea or unusual sleepiness.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
Maggie said tersely on the way home, drowsy already from the
office visit and emotional stress. "I'll make up my work."
He took a long draw from his cigarette. "No sweat, Maggie," he
said.
She leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes. She
was already asleep when they got back home, not even aware of being
carried upstairs and tucked in her bed. Not aware of the tall,
solemn figure that sat quietly watching her for the better part of
an hour with an intensity that would have shaken her if she'd seen
it.
The next day, she was sore and stiff, but the headache had
eased, and some of the heartache with it. Another week and she
could go back to the apartment, and Janna, and a new job, and leave
all this behind. All this. Clint. Clint! Her eyes closed
miserably. This time, she'd have to leave him behind for
good. No more trips to the ranch, ever, not even for a few days in
the summer, and Emma wouldn't understand and neither would Janna.
There'd have to be a very good excuse by then. Maybe if she had an overseas
job…
"You'll have premature wrinkles if you keep scowling like that,"
Clint remarked from the doorway.
She spared him a quick glance, noting that he was dressed in a
neat gray business suit instead of his jeans, and his dark head was
bare. He looked more like a businessman than a rancher-and
devilishly attractive.
"Going away, I hope?" she asked sweetly, concentrating on her
cold hands.
"For a few days," he replied, a mocking smile touching his
hard mouth. "I thought that might cheer you up."
"It's doing wonders for my disposition," she agreed.
There was a long pause before he shouldered away from the
door and came to stand beside the bed, his eyes dark green and
strangely solemn as he looked down at her.
"Head better?" he asked.
She nodded. "Lots, thanks."
"Look at me."
The quiet note in his deep voice brought her eyes up to meet his
in a silence laced with tension.
"I want to know," he said, "why you were afraid to touch me that
day by the stream."
She felt and hated the color that warmed her cheeks. "It's over,
can't we just…?"
"Hell, no, we can't!" he shot back, his whole look threatening.
He sat down beside her on the bed. "Tell me."
She pressed back against the pillows in an effort to escape any
physical contact with him. "It's just a game with you," she said
quietly. "You know a lot about women and you can tie me in knots
without really trying, and you enjoy taunting me with it. But
I'm not a toy, Clint, I'm a human being, and I don't like being…
used!"
He stared at her without any expression at all in his dark face. "You thought I was…playing, Maggie?"
he asked.
Her eyes riveted themselves on the silken knot of his tie. "I
should never have come," she said softly, regret in her tone. "That
summer I made a fool of myself is still there, like a curtain you
like to pull down often enough that I'll
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