Beautiful Dreamer with Bonus Material by Elizabeth Lowell Page B

the mangers. All the horses were groomed, the stalls had been raked out. New straw gleamed on the floor of every stall.
    Unexpectedly, her throat closed around tears or a protest or perhaps both. “Damn it, Rio. Didn’t you get any sleep at all?” she asked huskily.
    Dusk rubbed her head against Hope’s chest. Automatically she petted the mare.
    “Maybe he sleeps on his feet, like a horse.”
    Dusk rubbed harder, nearly knocking Hope off her feet.
    She checked the side yard, wondering if maybe Rio had taken care of everything before he went to bed instead of after he got up. The dusty pickup truck that she and Mason used was gone. Mason was up and about already, and off on some errands of his own, leaving her alone on the ranch. Or else Rio had taken the truck.
    Not that it mattered to her either way. She had no reason to make a long ride into town. What did matter, and what she reluctantly admitted to herself, was that she had been looking forward to seeing Rio this morning, to sharing coffee and breakfast and conversation with a dark stranger who seemed more familiar to her than most people she had known for years.
    Carrying the fresh eggs, Hope hurried across the dusty, gravel-strewn yard between the barn and the ranch house. She hesitated at the back-porch door. A quick glance told her what she already suspected. Rio was gone. He hadn’t even left a trace of his presence. The daybed was made up with military crispness and the braided rag rug lay smoothly in place on the uneven floor. Not only was the washbasin empty, it had been wiped dry until the old metal gleamed.
    It was as though she had dreamed yesterday afternoon at the stock tank, the unexpected luxury of a hot bath, and the compelling man with night-black hair and gentle hands.
    With an unconscious sigh she went into the kitchen. Normally Mason would have been up and making coffee strong enough to float horseshoes. But the kitchen was as clean and empty as the washbasin had been. A note on the scarred table explained that Mason had taken Rio to the Turner ranch to pick up his truck. Rio would come back after work. Mason would turn up sometime before noon.
    Hope fixed breakfast and ate quickly, hardly taking the time to admire the color and freshness of the eggs. She poured coffee into a large thermos, tucked it under her arm, and hurried toward the water truck. She had three other stock tanks to fill, one of them even larger than the tank she had trucked water to yesterday. Twice.
    She wouldn’t get every stock tank completely full. There simply wasn’t enough time. All she could do was haul enough water to each tank to keep the cattle from drifting off into wild country in a futile search for something to drink.
    With a deep, unconscious sigh Hope opened the heavy truck door and swung up into the cab. The engine grumbled and coughed and backfired and grumbled some more, but finally ran. She let out the clutch, turned the wheel, and discovered that the truck was ungodly heavy. The only explanation was that its tank was already brimful of water.
    Not only had Rio filled the trough in the Angus pasture, he had driven all the way back to the Turner well, filled up again, and driven all the way home. All that, after a full day of work with Turner’s horses, and another full day ahead of him.
    Hope blinked rapidly, trying not to burst into tears at this new evidence of Rio’s thoughtfulness.
    “Oh, wonderful,” she muttered to herself, swallowing hard. “You stand to lose everything you ever had or wanted and you don’t even sniffle. But let somebody be kind to you and you spring a leak. Get a grip, girl. You’re no good to anyone if you snivel.”
    Despite the bracing lecture, she had to blink several times before she could see well enough to steer the awkward rig out of the yard and onto the dirt road. She drove as quickly as she could to the nearest well. It was the oldest one on the ranch, all but hidden in an unexpected hollow of the land.
    The