Sandra Chastain by Firebrand Page B

of him as my husband, though he was for eight years. He was my father’s partner. Ben was so much older. Growing up, I knew him more as a second father.”
    “Didn’t that make it a bit uncomfortable—trying to be his wife, I mean?”
    “Yes.” She could have told him that after a few unsuccessful attempts there had been no lovemaking. In the beginning Ben had felt as awkward about it as she had. Then, after his heart trouble began, there’d been no further effort.
    “Did you love her?” asked Rusty.
    “Janie? I thought so at the time. Who knows? Love is hard to define, I think.”
    “I never loved Ben,” she admitted, “not in the way a woman should love a man. I … know that now.”
    Cade and Rusty didn’t look at each other. Their voices were low and unemotional. With the men nearby they simply talked, exchanging information with surprisingly little restraint. Being able to talk like this to a woman was something Cade hadn’t experienced before. He thought that Rusty, too, was surprised by their ease with each other.
    By the time Pretty Boy made his second trip to the water tub, his stride was unsteady, and his head bobbled. His bellowing took on a distinctly happy sound, and before long he’d deserted the ladies entirely and was concentrating on the tub.
    Rusty sat up and looked from the bull to Eugene and back again. “What exactly did you put in that water?”
    “My own secret formula,” he confessed matter-of-factly. “The boys back at the camp in Alaska called it Tundra Tonic. It’s good for what ails you,” he said, glancing at Cade.
    He ambled to his feet and started back to the truck. “I’d say that your bull won’t give you any trouble now. Just lasso one of them ladies and bring her along for company, and he’ll be as happy as an old rooster in the henhouse.”
    “ ‘Tundra Tonic’?” Rusty questioned.
    “ ‘Good for what ails you’?” Doak repeated, the beginning of a smile on his face. “Let’s go, boys. We’d better get that bull back home before his dose of tonic wears off.”
    “Ma’am.” Joe, the hand who’d gone with Eugene, stood on the ground, shuffling his feet. “Are you done with my horse?”
    “Ride with me, Joe,” Cade suggested. “That is, if Mrs. Wilder doesn’t mind? I’m sure she wants to oversee Pretty Boy’s return.”
    “Uh, no, Joe. I’ll let you have your horse back,” Rusty said easily. “Doak doesn’t need me to ride with him.”
    She got into the Jeep and slammed the door. “I’ve been doing some thinking. I’ll make arrangements for Pixie to start school in Coyote Wells on Monday. I’ll also ask Judge Meekins to come over tomorrow night to draw up our preliminary contract, and—” she caught her breath before finishing in a rush, “there’s the Cattleman’s Ball next Friday night, which I’ll expect you to attend as my … escort. If you agree.”
    She didn’t look at him. But he knew that she was giving him one last chance to change his mind. After he agreed, he was committed to—well, he didn’t know what exactly. To be a husband? To be a father? He’d been here two days, and he already knew that the trial period wasn’t a good idea. Six months would never be enough.
    But six months was a start.
    “Yes.”
    Pixie met them at the corral. With a cry of pleasure she slid under the fence and ran toward the bull.
    “Oh, Pretty Boy, you’re back!”
    Rusty felt her heart turn over. “Cade—look out, Pixie!”
    Doak, Eugene, and Cade all made a mad dash for the corral, arriving at the same time.
    Pixie, singing “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” was standing beside the huge bull, who was lowering his head for Pixie to pat him. The sound the bull was making wasn’t angry until he raised his head and caught sight of the men pressing toward him.
    “Pixie,” Cade said in a calm voice, “back away, slowly, now.”
    “But, Daddy,” Pixie argued, “Pretty Boy likes for me to pet him.”
    “Please, Pix, do as I