Charlie leaned back in his chair, snapped the newspaper and promptly buried himself behind it. For several seconds, he said nothing, but in time he offered a grudging explanation. “No point in wasting gas when somebody on the ranch always needs something or other from a store.”

“Hmm.” Sonia took another sip of coffee. From around the newspaper, Charlie’s weathered hand groped for his mug. The mug and hand disappeared again behind the pages of the business section. “I suppose if I ride out to my mother’s, though,” Sonia continued, “that would be perfectly all right.”

“Nobody’s ever stopped you from doing anything you want to do, and they never will, sprite. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Charlie crackled his paper again. “Now just drink your coffee until you’re in a better mood.”

“I’m in a better mood.”

“Uh-uh. The whole place knows you’re nasty until you’ve had your dose of caffeine. We all put up with you. You don’t have to fake cheerfulness.”

Charlie’s teasing didn’t fool her one bit. Sonia leaned forward and folded his newspaper down just a little. A definitely shifty pair of eyes only reluctantly met hers. “How long,” she asked pleasantly, “has Craig been paying that man in Chicago, and exactly what is he supposed to be doing?”

Charlie’s coffee splashed all over the paper. He lurched up from the table, fussing like a mother hen, grabbing a towel and flashing her a disgusted look.

“Answer me, Charlie.” Sonia would have smiled at his antics…any other time.

“I got stuff to do.” He rapidly folded the paper and laid it on the table, set the cup on the counter, jammed his hat on.

Sonia said nothing.

Charlie tugged open the door and for an instant stood in the streaming morning sunlight. He turned, his wizened face in shadow. “Now, you just relax,” he said uncomfortably. “You never did have a lick of patience first thing in the morning, and sometimes patience is just what’s called for. So you just drink your coffee and let it all be, sprite. You hear me?”

Sonia took a second sip of coffee, studying him. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“I’ve known that man longer than you have.”

“Charlie-”

“Just bear with him awhile. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.” With a crisp little slam, he closed the door.

Sonia stared at the empty space for a moment, then picked up her coffee cup again. Charlie had always given her good advice.

But Charlie didn’t have a husband who no longer wanted to make love. She’d woken up with a marvelous sense of well-being. Her body was sated, her hormones appeased; even her skin still tingled with the pleasure of having been loved and touched and…taken care of. Fine.

Craig just didn’t appear to need satisfaction for his own sake anymore. That was interesting. Miraculous, really.

Sonia’s jaw firmed. She set down her empty cup. And felt totally lost inside.

An emerald in her belly button had not solved the problem. What problem? she asked herself, and slumped back in the chair with her hands dug in her pockets. Define the damn problem, Sonia.

Their lives, the ranch and his work were fine. Her man loved her; of that she had no doubt. If he wanted to keep a few things from her temporarily, her inclination was to trust him and ask no questions. In principle, privacy was just as important in a marriage as communication. If it weren’t for their love life, Sonia would have no reason at all to think that something was eating Craig up alive.

Patience, Charlie had urged her. Which was a polite way of saying, Shut up, Sonia. She’d never been very good at shutting up. Not with Craig. Communication had always been easy between them…but this, she had to admit, was different. Coming out and asking a man why he didn’t want to make love to you-no. The other issues were not very important. That one was. And that one, she felt at the very frightened core of herself, was the only issue that made a difference.


***

Craig pulled the Land Rover to a stop near the house, pocketed the key and stepped out into the darkness. He immediately spotted the thin trail of white smoke meandering up to the sky.

“Everything go all right today?” he questioned Charlie.

“Fine. Rounded up the strays in the north quarter.” Charlie lurched forward through the shadows, a cigar clamped tight between his teeth. “You want to see the new colt?”

“Is Sonia up?”

“She took it in her head to look over the half year’s expenses,” Charlie said delicately. “Been buried in the study since dinner.”

Craig chuckled, knowing that when Sonia insisted on taking on the ranch bookkeeping, her concentration was apt to affect her…amiability.

“You’ll want to see the colt,” Charlie said firmly.

Craig hesitated, a little amused at the faintly belligerent note in Charlie’s voice. All he really wanted to do was pour himself a snifter of brandy and collapse on the couch next to his wife after an exceedingly long day, but for the moment he fell into step next to Charlie. “I’ll go to the stable for a minute or two,” he agreed.

“Sure.”

Charlie pushed open the doors. Stable smells assaulted both of them, fresh hay and old leather and the scents of the horses themselves. Charlie flicked a switch and bright fluorescence promptly glowed on the central walkthrough; a stallion at the far end whinnied his disapproval. Both men paused before the waist-high gates of the nearest stall.

The colt was still wobbly, all legs and sleek brown coat. Frightened eyes stared at them, ready to bolt. The two men studied the animal. “Beautiful,” Craig said softly. “Oh, aren’t you a beauty…”

The colt lifted his head, shaking it. Craig chuckled. “They were fools to sell him,” he said absently. “He’s magnificent. But he’ll probably never get to stand at stud. Sonia will take one look at him and turn him into a pet.”

“You bought him for her.”

“I wanted him for breeding stock.”

“Bull.” Charlie snorted.

Craig chuckled, and they both leaned over the rails again, content to stare at the colt. Those wild eyes continued to stare at them; the colt tossed up his mane again. Craig dug in his pocket and held out an open palm with a sugar cube in it. The colt ignored it. Craig kept his palm open, all patience.

“Sonia’s on to you, you know,” Charlie remarked with studied idleness. “George never did have much subtlety.”

Craig barely let on that he heard him, still wooing the colt with his eyes.

“She heard me talking to Brenner in Chicago a few nights ago.”

The colt’s eyes were on the sugar, his curiosity clearly warring with his fear. The animal met Craig’s eyes only for an instant, and found there warmth and easy affection and the promise of love and good care. His mane shivered over his withers. Craig smiled, his palm steady.

Charlie shifted restlessly next to him. “I think,” he said mildly, “you’d both be better off if you could forget the whole thing.”

The colt ambled forward, close enough to get a whiff of the sugar. And the man. He shied back with prancing hooves, but Craig’s hand never wavered. He kept his voice as soft as butter so as not to scare the young animal. “I’d almost talked myself into believing…” He hesitated. “And then she had a dream last night. Dreamed the bastard was after her again.” The colt dredged up a new round of courage and edged forward again. “She was shaking. Trembling so hard she couldn’t stop. Frightened. God knows how long she’s been having nightmares like that…”

The colt shied away from him, eyes wide, ears back, as if he sensed the tension in the man. Still, he probed the palm until he found the sugar. Once he had claimed it, he bolted to the back of the stall again. Craig turned, staring at Charlie.

His voice changed just that quickly. The tone held nothing that would have raised fear in the colt, but the iron firmness was unmistakable. “You didn’t know me when my father died, and you never saw me in my first brawl. We’ve known each other a long time, though, Charlie. You saw me the day I got back from the bank, when they said I couldn’t save this damn ranch. You remember that Raker fool who thought he could buy the place out from under me? He thought I was a greenhorn nineteen-year-old kid. And I was. Stupid and arrogant and with far more guts than brains, but I always fought my own battles.”

“Now, look-” Charlie started in a low voice.

“I’ve fought for every damn thing I’ve ever had. You think I couldn’t protect her?” Craig demanded. “I’d kill anyone who harmed her,” he said softly. “And I’d do it without blinking an eye. The decision would be simple. Because if anyone touched her-”

“Hey,” Charlie said uncomfortably.

“There’s no point in telling me to forget about it, Charlie. I hear what you’re trying to say, and to some extent you’re right. I can’t pen her in. That wouldn’t work. But I mean to see to it that nothing like that ever happens to her again. You hear me?”

Charlie hesitated. He drew the cigar from his mouth, and his eyes dropped from Craig’s steadfast stare. “I hear you,” he said flatly.

“Good.” Craig walked over and switched off the light, holding the stable door open for both of them. He said nothing else until Charlie headed toward his own house, and then called out mildly, “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smoke in the stable in years. You still upset now?”

Charlie didn’t answer.

“Because if you want to keep arguing, Charlie, we’ll argue. Just tell me how you’d feel if it were your own woman.”

Charlie didn’t even turn around. “’Bout time we both got some shut-eye.” He chomped on the cigar again.

They both headed toward home.

Chapter 10

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Charlie said.