Against The Rules

“Nobody that I know of, and even if they did there’s other means of going,” Lorna said practically. “Would you mind picking up a few things?”

“I’ll be glad to,” Cathryn replied. “But to be on the safe side, write everything down. No matter how careful I try to be, I always forget one item unless I have a list, and it’s usually the most-needed thing that I forget.”

With a chuckle Lorna pulled open a drawer and extracted a notepad from which she tore the top sheet. She handed it to Cathryn. “It’s already done. I’m guilty of the same thing, so I always write things down as I think of them. Let me get some money from Rule’s desk.”

“No, I have enough,” Cathryn protested, looking at the list of items. It was mostly first-aid things such as alcohol and bandages, nothing very expensive. Besides, anything bought for the ranch was her responsibility.

“All right, but keep the sales receipt. Taxes.”

Cathryn nodded. “Do you know where the keys to the station wagon are?”

“Usually in the ignition, unless Rule took them out this morning to keep Ricky from disappearing as she sometimes does. If he did, then they’ll be in his pocket, but since Ricky went with them he wouldn’t have had any reason for taking the keys.”

Cathryn made a face at that information and went upstairs to get her purse. Was Ricky so bad that it was necessary to hide the car keys from her? And what if someone else needed the car? But then, Lorna and Monica would make arrangements beforehand if they needed the car, and in any medical emergency Rule could be located quickly enough. The plane would be faster than a car anyway.

She was in luck. The keys were still dangling from the ignition. She opened the door and slid behind the wheel, looking forward to her little trip.

The station wagon wasn’t a new model and it had a rather battered appearance, but the engine caught immediately and hummed with steady precision. Like everything else on the ranch, it was kept in good mechanical condition, another indication of Rule’s excellent management. There was no way she could fault him on that score.

She felt pride in the way the ranch looked as she drove down the dusty road that led to the highway. It wasn’t a huge ranch or a rich one, though it had done well enough. She knew that Rule had brought new life into it with his horses, though it had been a comfortable place before that. But now the land had the well-tended look that only devotion and hard work could bring.

The town was small, but Cathryn supposed it had everything required by civilization. It was as familiar to her as her own face, never changing much despite the passage of time. San Antonio was the nearest large city, almost eighty miles distant, but to someone used to Texas distances, that didn’t seem like a long trip. No one felt denied by the undemanding tenor of life in Uvalde County.

Probably the last scandal in memory was the last one Rule had figured in, Cathryn thought absently as she parked the station wagon against the curb, joining the lineup of dusty pickups and assorted cars. She could hear the jukebox inside, and a smile lit her face as memories washed over her. How many Sunday afternoons had she spent here as a teenager? The pharmacy was located in the back of the building. The front was occupied by a booming hamburger business. Red-topped stools lined the counter and several booths marched down the opposite wall, while a few small tables were scattered about the remaining space. The stools and booths were crowded, while the tables remained empty, always the last to be filled. A quick glance around told her that the majority of the customers were teenagers, just as it had always been, though there were enough adults on hand to keep youthful enthusiasms under control.

She went back to the pharmacy and began gathering the items on Lorna’s list, wanting to do that first; then she intended to reward herself with a huge milk shake. The pile in her arms kept growing and became unmanageable; she looked around for a shopping basket and her gaze was met by a young woman her own age who was studying her curiously.

“Cathryn? Cathryn Donahue?” the woman asked hesitantly.

As soon as she spoke Cathryn placed her voice. “Wanda Gifford!”

“Wanda Wallace now. I married Rick Wallace.”

Cathryn remembered him. He was the son of the owner of the drugstore and a year or so older than she and Wanda. “And I’m Cathryn Ashe.”

“Yes. I heard about your husband’s death. I’m sorry, Cathryn.”

Cathryn murmured an acknowledgement of the polite phrase as Wanda moved to take some of the precariously balanced things out of her arms, then swiftly changed the subject, still feeling unable to discuss David’s death calmly. “Do you have any children?”

“Two, and that’s enough. Both boys, and both monsters.” Wanda smiled wryly. “Rick asked me if I wanted to try for a girl next time, and I told him that if there was a next time we’d have a parting of the ways. Good Lord, what if I had another boy?” But in spite of her words she was laughing, and Cathryn had a moment of gentle envy. She and David had discussed having children, but put it off in favor of a few years alone; then they had learned of David’s illness and he had refused to burden her with a child to raise alone. She didn’t understand how he could have imagined that his child would ever be a burden to her, but she had always thought that making a baby should be a mutual decision, so she hadn’t pressured him. He had been under enough pressure, knowing that his life was slipping away.

Wanda led the way to the nearest table and dumped everything onto the shiny surface. “Have a seat and let me buy you a soft drink to welcome you home. Rule told us that you’re home to stay this time.”

Slowly Cathryn sank into an empty chair. “When did he say that?” she asked, wondering if she looked as cornered as she felt.

“Two weeks ago. He said you’d be home for Memorial Day weekend.” Wanda went behind the counter to get two glasses brimming with ice and fill them with fountain cola from the machine installed there.

So Rule had let it be known two weeks ago that she was coming home to stay? Cathryn mused. That was when she had called to let Monica know that she was coming home for a visit. Just like that, Rule had decided that she’d stay this time and had spread the news. Wouldn’t he be surprised when she got on that plane tomorrow?

“Here you go,” said Wanda, sliding the frosted glass in front of her.

Cathryn leaned over to take an appreciative sip of the strong, icy drink, sharp as only fountain cola could be. “Rule’s changed a lot over the years,” she murmured, not certain just why she said it, but wanting for some reason to hear someone else’s opinion of him. Perhaps he wasn’t out of the ordinary; perhaps it was her own perception of him that was at fault.

“In some ways he has, in some he hasn’t,” said Wanda. “He’s not wild anymore, but you get the feeling he’s just as dangerous as he always was. He’s more controlled now. But the way most folks think about him has changed. Rule knows ranching and he’s a fair boss. He’s president of the Local C.A., you know. Of course, to some people he’ll always be as wild as a mink.”

Cathryn managed to hide her surprise at that information. In some parts of the West, the Cattlemen’s Association was the inner circle of the elite; in other parts, such as here, it was a working group of not-so-big ranchers who tried to help each other. Still, she was stunned that Rule had been elected president, because he wasn’t even a ranch owner. That, more than anything, was a measure of his move from scandalousness to respectability.

She gossiped with Wanda for the better part of an hour and noticed that Ricky’s name wasn’t mentioned at all, an indication of how completely Ricky had alienated the local people. Had Wanda been on friendly terms with the other young woman, she would have asked after her, even if it had been only a day or two since she had seen her.

Cathryn finally noticed the time and began gathering up the items she had scattered over the table. Wanda helped her manage them and walked with her back to the cash register, where her father-in-law checked Cathryn out. “We still have a dance every Saturday night,” Wanda said, her friendly eyes smiling. “Why don’t you come next time? Rule will bring you if you don’t feel like coming on your own, but there’s plenty of men who’d like to see you walk in without an escort, especially without Rule.”

Cathryn laughed, remembering the Saturday night dances that were such an integral part of the county social life. Most of the marriages and at least a few of the pregnancies of the last fifteen years had gotten their start at the Saturday night dances. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ll think about it, though I don’t think Rule would thank you for volunteering him for escort duty.”

“Try him!” was Wanda’s laughing advice.

“No, thanks,” muttered Cathryn to herself as she left the coolness of the pharmacy and the heat of the cloudless Texas day hit her in the face. She had no intention of being there for the next dance, anyway. She’d be on that plane in less than twenty-four hours, and by the next Saturday she would be safe in her Chicago apartment, away from the dangers and temptations of Rule Jackson.

She opened the car door and dropped her purchases onto the seat, but stood for a moment allowing the interior of the car to cool somewhat before she got in.

“Cathryn! By God, I thought it was you! Heard you were back!”

She turned curiously and a grin widened her mouth as a tall, lanky man with white hair and sun-browned skin loped along the sidewalk to reach her. “Mr. Vernon! It’s nice to see you again!”

Paul Vernon reached her and enfolded her in a hug that lifted her off the ground. He had been her father’s best friend, and she had carried on the tradition with his son, Kyle. To Paul Vernon’s disappointment the friendship between the two had never matured into romance; but he had always had a soft spot in his heart for Cathryn and she returned the affection, in some ways liking the older man more than she had Kyle.

He replaced her on the ground and turned to beckon another man forward. Cathryn knew him at once as a newcomer, even though she had been away for years. The man who removed his hat politely and nodded at her wasn’t dressed in quite the manner a local would have dressed. His jeans were a little too new; his hat wasn’t a hat that had been on the range.

Mr. Vernon’s introduction confirmed her guess. “Cathryn, this is Ira Morris. He’s in the region looking at some livestock and horses; he owns a spread in Kansas. Ira, this is Cathryn Donahue...sorry, but I can’t remember your married name. Cathryn is from the Bar D.”

“Bar D?” asked Mr. Morris. “Isn’t that Rule Jackson’s spread?”

“That’s right; you’ll have to see him if it’s horses you want. He’s got the best quarter-horse farm in the state.”

Mr. Morris was impatient. He barely contained his restlessness when Paul Vernon seemed content to linger and chat for a while. Cathryn was in sympathy with his impatience, because she was burning with fury and it was taking a great deal of self-control to hide it from Mr. Vernon. At last he said goodbye and admonished her to come visit soon. She promised to do so and quickly got into the car before he could continue the conversation.

She started the car and slammed it into gear with violent temper; not in years had she been so consumed with white-hot rage. The last time had been that day by the river, but there wouldn’t be the same ending this time. She wasn’t a naive teenager who hadn’t any idea of how to control a man or handle her own desires now. She was a woman, and he had encroached on her home territory. Rule Jackson’s spread, indeed! Was that how people thought of the Bar D now? Maybe Rule thought it was his, too; maybe he considered himself so much in control that there was no way she could dislodge him. If so, he’d find out soon that she was a Donahue of the Bar D and a Jackson just didn’t belong!

The first wave of anger had passed by the time she reached the ranch, but her resolve hadn’t faded. First she took her purchases in to Lorna, knowing that the woman would have seen her arrival from the kitchen window. That guess was proved correct when she opened the door and saw Lorna standing at the sink while she peeled potatoes, looking out the window so as not to miss any activity in the yard. Cathryn placed the paper bag on the table and said, “Here are the things. Have you seen Rule?”

“He came in for lunch,” said Lorna placidly. “But he could be anywhere now. Someone in the stables should be able to tell you where he’s gone.”

“Thanks,” said Cathryn, and retraced her steps, moving with her free-swinging stride to the stables, her feet kicking up tiny clouds of dust with every step.

The cool dimness of the stable was a welcome change from the bright sun, the smell of horses and ammonia as familiar as ever. She squinted, trying to adjust her eyes to the dimness, and made out two figures several stalls down. In a few seconds she recognized Rule, though the other man was a stranger.

Before she could speak Rule held out his hand. “Here’s the boss lady,” he said, still with his hand held out to her, and she was so surprised by his words that she stepped into reach of that hand and it curved around her waist, drawing her close to his heat and strength. “Cat, meet Lewis Stovall, the foreman. I don’t think you’ve been here since he was hired. Lewis, this is Cathryn Donahue.”

Lewis Stovall merely nodded and touched his hat, but his silence wasn’t prompted by shyness. His face was as hard and watchful as Rule’s, his eyes narrowed and waiting. Cathryn felt uneasily that Lewis Stovall was a man with secrets locked inside, just as Rule was, a man who had lived hard and dangerously and who bore the scars of that life. But...he was the foreman? Just what did that make Rule? King of the mountain?