Cherokee Baby Part 6

"It's okay." At least now he understood why turning forty was such an issue with her.

"It's not okay. I feel like an idiot. Forcing you to listen to all that."

"Hey." Giving in to the need to touch, he leaned forward and lifted her chin, encouraging her to look at him. "I don't mind being your friend, Julianne."

She blinked, smiled. "You're a good man, Bobby."

He pulled his hand back. "Michael says that to me, too." But it felt different coming from her. It felt like even more of a lie.

They finished their lunch and cleaned up, working quietly. Bobby squinted at the sky, at a hawk soaring

above the trees. Julianne walked over to Caballero. "Is it a two-hour ride down the hill?" "We're going down the same way we came up," he said by way of an explanation. She made a face. "My b.u.t.t's going to be really sore later, isn't it?" He checked out her cute little rear and nodded. Strange how she could make him emotional one minute and humor him the next. "I suspect. Some folks do complain about their b.u.t.ts afterward."

She heaved herself onto the gelding. "I guess this is nothing for a former rodeo cowboy. What event did you compete in?" He finished packing his horse. "Bareback." "Is that where you get bucked around without a saddle?"

Humored once again, he grinned. She was already favoring her rear, wriggling in her seat. "That's about the size of it."

"And you deliberately chose that as your profession?"

"I surely did." He watched her grimace through another city-slicker wriggle. "You could schedule a ma.s.sage later," he suggested. "And soak in the whirlpool."

"Or I could tough it out like a true cowgirl." She pushed her heels down, settling into her stirrups. "Will I

see you tonight, Bobby? Maybe at dinner?"

"I don't think so. I'm going to turn in early. I've got some business inSan Antonioover the next few days.

I'll probably be heading out before dawn."

"So when will I see you again?" she asked.

"At your party," he told her. "I won't miss your birthday, Julianne."

"Are you going to bring someone?"

He mounted his horse, tried to act casual. "No. I think I'll go alone."

"I'm always alone." When a strand of hair blew across her face, she s.h.i.+fted the reins to free her hand, to

tuck the fiery locks behind her ear. "I haven't dated since the divorce. It's just not that easy."

He chose not to comment, not to admit that he knew how she felt.

Side by side, they started across the gra.s.s, heading for the trail back to the barn. As a stream of silence

ensued, a b.u.t.terfly winged by, reminding Bobby of his borrowed time withSharon, of summer days, colorful flowers and shattered dreams.

"Maybe you could be my date for the party," Julianne said.

Bobby's pulse quickened. Suddenly he ached for what she was offering. A romantic evening with a pretty lady. Flirtatious conversation. A sip of wine. A long, lingering kiss.

He glanced her way and saw that she watched him with shy antic.i.p.ation.

"Sure, I could do that," he said.

What harm was there in being her date?

In pretending, just for one night, that he was still the man he used to be.

Chapter 4.

The Corral, a shabby-chic bar, presented sawdust floors, rustic oak tables, a collection of pool tables and a small bandstand. A trio of female singers belted out familiar country tunes as c.o.c.ktail waitresses squeezed through the Sat.u.r.day-night clientele, delivering drinks and ready smiles. Julianne sat at a crowded table, sipping a gla.s.s of wine and looking around. Kay and Mern had invited the other Elk Ridge Ranch guests and some of the staff to her party.

Everyone was here, toasting her with well wishes. Everyone except Bobby, the man who'd promised not to miss her birthday. Disappointed, Julianne watched the door. Was he merely late? Or had he decided not to be her date, after all?

Glancing across the room at the dance floor, she spotted Jim Robbins and his wife stomping and clapping to the music. Jim was the friendly fellow who'd startled her and Bobby on the porch that first day.

Another couple, much younger and much hipper than Jim and his wife, laughed when they all missed the same line-dance step.

She reached for her wine and glanced at the door again.

And then she saw him.

Bobby entered the bar, carrying a single white rose. She excused herself from the table and went to greet him.

For a moment they just gazed at each other.

"Happy birthday," he said, handing her the rose.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry I'm late. I just got back fromSan Antonio."

"That's okay." He was here now, looking strong and stylish in a chain-st.i.tched Western s.h.i.+rt, a tooled

leather belt and a pair of crisp jeans. Beneath a tan-colored Stetson, he wore his hair in a single braid down the center of his back. She couldn't help but wonder how long his hair was when it was loose. Or how it would feel to run her fingers through the inky blackness.

The band took a break, leaving the bar quieter than it had been. Quiet enough for romance, Julianne thought.

What would Bobby do if she stole a kiss? If she pressed her mouth to his?

They were practically strangers. Two people barely acquainted. Yet everything about him intrigued her, stirring her interest.

Her desire.

Once again their eyes met and they gazed at each other, silence looming between them.

Julianne moistened her lips and Bobby released a choppy breath. They stood near the door, not quite blending into her party.

"I can't remember the last time a man brought me a flower," she said.

"Really?"

She nodded. "It's been years. I'm not sure how many."

He broke eye contact, cleared his throat. "When I was a kid, my paternal grandmother used to talk about the legend of the Cherokee rose."

She lowered the flower, pressing the petals against her heart. "Will you tell me about it?"

He moved a little closer, then adjusted his hat in a gesture she'd seen him do more than once. "Over a

hundred and fifty years ago, the Cherokee were forced to migrate when gold was discovered on their land. The journey was called the Trail of Tears."

"I've heard of that." A snippet from a childhood history cla.s.s that hadn't mattered until now.

He sighed, repeating a tale he'd obviously been weaned on. "It was a long, brutal trek. They traveled

during the winter, sleeping in wagons or on the frozen ground without any means to keep warm. Nearly half of the people died from the hards.h.i.+p, making the women, the young mothers, weep. But the elders knew the women needed to stay strong for their children, so they called upon the One Who Lives Above to help."

As Bobby continued, Julianne kept the flower against her heart, sensing its importance.

"The One Who Lives Above created a plant to spring up everywhere a mother's tears had fallen. A white rose, with gold in the center, representing what they'd lost."

Silent, she listened, mesmerized by the emotion in his voice.

"The roses grew along the Trail of Tears, and the stickers on the Stems protected these special plants

from those who tried to uproot them. Soon, the women became strong once again, knowing their children would flourish in the new Cherokee Nation."

"That's a beautiful story."

"I always thought so, too." He leaned into her. "Look inside your rose, Julianne."

She glanced down and saw a glint of gold in the center of the white bloom. "Oh, my." Reaching for the hidden treasure, she discovered a delicate bracelet, a simple, serpentine chain.

"Thank you, Bobby. It's perfect." He'd given her a piece of himself, she thought. A legend. A gift from

his ancestry. "Will you help me put in on?"

He clasped the bracelet around her wrist, and she considered hugging him, pressing her body to his, breathing in his scent, losing herself in the man she wanted.

In the danger, in the excitement, of an affair.