Wyoming Rugged

She noted, when they were inside the car, that her father was frowning.

“I turned my tassel,” she reminded him.

He sighed. “Sorry, honey. I was thinking about Blair.”

Her heart jumped. “Did you call Jameson?”

“Yes. He finally admitted that Blair hasn’t been sober for three days. Apparently, the divorce is final, and Blair found out some unsavory things about his wife.”

“Oh, dear.” She tried not to feel pleasure that Blair was free. He’d said often enough that he thought of Niki as a child. “What sort of things?”

“I can’t tell you, honey. It’s very private stuff.”

She drew in a long breath. “We should go get him and bring him to the ranch,” she said firmly. “He shouldn’t be on his own in that sort of mood.”

He smiled softly. “You know, I was just thinking the same thing. Call Dave and have them get the Learjet over here. You can come with me if you like.”

“Thanks.”

He shrugged. “I might need the help,” he mused. “Blair gets a little dangerous when he drinks, but he’d never hit a woman,” he added.

She nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

BLAIR DIDN’T RESPOND to her father’s voice asking him to open the door. Muffled curses came through the wood, along with sounds of a big body bumping furniture.

“Let me try,” Niki said softly. She rapped on the door. “Blair?” she called.

There was silence, followed by the sound of footsteps coming closer. “Niki?” came a deep, slurred voice.

“Yes, it’s me.”

He unlocked the door and opened it. He looked terrible. His face was flushed from too much alcohol. His black, wavy hair was ruffled. His blue shirt, unbuttoned and untucked, looked as if he’d slept in it. So did his black pants. He was a little unsteady on his feet. His eyes roved over Niki’s face with warm affection.

She reached out and caught his big hand in both of hers. “You’re coming home with us,” she said gently. “Come on, now.”

“Okay,” he said, without a single protest.

Jameson, standing to one side, out of sight, sighed with relief. He grinned at her father.

Blair drew in a long breath. “I’m pretty drunk.”

“That’s okay,” Niki said, still holding tight to his hand. “We won’t let you drive.”

He burst out laughing. “Damned little brat,” he muttered.

She grinned at him.

“You dressed up to come visit me?” he asked, looking from her to her father.

“It was my graduation today,” Niki said.

Blair grimaced. “Damn! I meant to come. I really did. I even got you a present.” He patted his pockets. “Oh, hell, it’s in my desk. Just a minute.”

He managed to stagger over to the desk without falling. He dredged out a small wrapped gift. “But you can’t open it until I’m sober,” he said, putting it in her hands.

“Oh. Well, okay,” she said. She cocked her head. “Are you planning to have to run me down when I open it, then?”

His eyes twinkled. “Who knows?”

“We’d better go before he changes his mind,” her father said blithely.

“I won’t,” Blair promised. “There’s too damned much available liquor here. You only keep cognac and Scotch whiskey,” he reminded his friend.

“I’ve had Edna hide the bottles, though,” her father assured him.

“I’ve had enough anyway.”

“Yes, you have. Come on,” Niki said, grabbing Blair’s big hand in hers.

He followed her like a lamb, not even complaining at her assertiveness. He didn’t notice that Todd and Jameson were both smiling with pure amusement.

* * *

WHEN THEY GOT back to Catelow, and the Ashton ranch, Niki led Blair up to the guest room and set him down on the big bed.

“Sleep,” she said, “is the best thing for you.”

He drew in a ragged breath. “I haven’t slept for days,” he confessed. “I’m so tired, Niki.”

She smoothed back his thick, cool black hair. “You’ll get past this,” she said with a wisdom far beyond her years. “It only needs time. It’s fresh, like a raw wound. You have to heal until it stops hurting so much.”

He was enjoying her soft hand in his hair. Too much. He let out a long sigh. “Some days I feel my age.”

“You think you’re old?” she chided. “We’ve got a cowhand, Mike, who just turned seventy. Know what he did yesterday? He learned to ride a bicycle.”

His eyebrows arched. “Are you making a point?”

“Yes. Age is only in the mind.”

He smiled sardonically. “My mind is old, too.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t have had children,” she lied, and felt guilty that she was glad about it. “Sometimes they make a marriage work.”

“Sometimes they end it,” he retorted.

“Fifty-fifty chance.”