Suddenly Reunited

“There’s nothing in the dark that isn’t in the light,” Drew had said time and again. He’d intended his words to comfort and console her, to eradicate her fears—and she loved him for that. But as the old folks liked to say, her daddy didn’t raise a fool. She knew full well what lurked deep in the brush: creatures of every sort and size, some predators, others prey—each with its own instinctive need to survive. And Gabrielle had no desire to be the meal that quenched a hungry appetite.

As if in answer to a prayer she hadn’t even said, her mother’s sweet face appeared in her mind’s eye, and Gabrielle couldn’t help but smile.

She was now the proud owner of the few pieces of jewelry that had belonged to her mother. Costume stuff, mostly, that Leah had collected in the cities and towns the little family visited. But the watch…the watch had been special.

According to her father, her mother had cut out coupons and saved every extra penny from her grocery money to buy it. She’d wrapped it in blue tissue, tied it up with a white satin bow, and given it to Jared on the night Gabrielle was born. To count every precious minute with our first-born, said the inscription on the back. Her father’s stories described character traits, habits, even minor flaws that defined Leah Lafayette, the woman he’d chosen as his wife. But the watch told Gabrielle something about the woman who had been her mother, the woman who’d suffered silently to satisfy the whims of the man she loved. A man with wanderlust.

How many times had Leah said that the braided leather watchband was every bit as sturdy and strong as her marriage to Jared? Too many to count, Gabrielle thought. Glancing at that band, now wrapped loosely around her own slender wrist, she understood better than ever how lucky she’d been to find a man like Drew, a man who wrested strength from the land, who loved having roots in one place for all time.

A sob ached in her throat as she looked again at the shattered glass that had protected the watch face, at the torn plaits of the braided brown band. First thing tomorrow, she’d take it to town and have it repaired.

She tried her best to remember the fall that had broken her treasure, straining her aching brain for a scrap of memory…anything that would help her understand why she hadn’t recognized the danger ahead. She had ridden the river’s edge before, had encountered rattlesnakes plenty of times. But she’d always managed to keep control of Molly, or Triumph, or whatever horse she’d been riding.

Why not this time?

She was achy and tired, and more than a little afraid. All Gabrielle wanted right now was to get home and fall into Drew’s arms, where she’d always found such comfort.

“Well, missy, here you are,” Troy announced, interrupting her thoughts. “Drew’s in the barn. Want me to fetch him?”

The truck ground to a halt as she struggled to remember what Drew had told her earlier that morning. “No, no,” she began haltingly, “I think he said something about fixing the back fences today.”

The cowboy frowned. “Back fences? What about the rest of the hands?”

“Drew gave them the day off, so they could go into Livingston for Oktoberfest.”

“Oktoberfest? But that was two weeks ago—”

She didn’t understand why the usually talkative cowboy suddenly clamped his jaws together, seemingly feigning interest in his pocket watch.

“You reckon it’s such a good idea, you bein’ here alone in the shape you’re in? Maybe I oughta sit with you, just ’til Drew gets in from—” his frown deepened as he looked toward the barn “—from, ah, mendin’ fences?”

Forcing a smile, Gabrielle said, “That isn’t necessary, but I appreciate the offer, just the same.” She opened the passenger door. “I’m fine. Really.” She patted his hand as if that were proof of some kind, then climbed out of the truck.

“Don’t forget your hat,” he said, one gray eyebrow high on his lined forehead.

She seemed to be making a habit of forgetting things. “Oh. Right,” she said, taking it from him. “Thanks again for the ride, Troy.” Aiming another smile in his direction, Gabrielle slammed the heavy, creaking door. Waving with the hat, she stepped back. “You’re an angel,” she added, “and I’m gonna bake you a cherry pie to show my appreciation.”

His face wrinkled in confusion. “No thanks necessary,” he called through the open passenger window. “Now, git on inside and sit down before you fall down. I’ll call you later, make sure you’re all right.”

She snapped off a smart salute, then headed up the walk.

The kitchen clock said one-twenty. A glance around the room only added to her bewilderment. She’d never gone off and left the breakfast dishes, at least not without putting them in a wash pan to soak. Whatever was wrong—and there was plenty wrong—it had started before she took that fall from Triumph’s back.

She rummaged in the cupboard for an aspirin. Where tidy rows of tumblers and coffee mugs had once stood, Gabrielle found a mismatched mess of glasses and cups. What had possessed her to put the dishes away like that?

After downing the pills, she slumped onto a ladder-back chair and held her head in her hands. This wasn’t like the other times she’d fallen. She yearned for the solace of Drew’s embrace.

Hurry home, honey, she thought, biting her lower lip as the tears welled in her eyes, because I need you.

Chapter Two

The moment he reached the end of the winding drive, he noticed Triumph, still saddled and grazing beside the barn. The beast seemed content enough, as though the dirt on his forelegs and withers didn’t bother him at all. But Drew knew better. This was a persnickety horse that appreciated a thorough grooming after a hard ride.

What was Gabrielle thinking? he demanded silently. Frowning, he followed up with an equally regretful thought: she hadn’t been thinking of anything or anyone but herself lately.

Dismounting, Drew strode over to where Triumph stood, ran an ungloved hand over the horse’s behind. The horse had been sweating hard—that much was evident by the thin crust of grit stuck to his coat—but he’d been home long enough to cool down.

Doesn’t make a lick of sense, Drew thought, shaking his head. Gabrielle did have a tendency to get sidetracked, especially in conversations and menial tasks, but he knew better than most how she felt about animals. For her to have left Triumph in this condition could only mean one thing.

Something had happened to her.

The image of her, unconscious, cold and alone, unprotected in the wilderness, flashed through his mind. It was autumn, a dangerous time of year. Cougars were on the prowl, as were grizzlies and black bears looking to fatten themselves up for winter’s long hibernation. And contrary to city-folk myth, the hairy beasts much preferred fresh meat to wild berries and tree roots.

Heart pounding, he raced toward the house, making plans as he went: call the sheriff, and while the man rounded up a search party, Drew would get down on his knees and pray like he’d never prayed before. Because he loved her. Loved her like crazy. Had from the moment he first set eyes on her, would ’til he drew his last breath. Legal separation papers couldn’t change that fact.

He exploded into the kitchen, not noticing or caring that he’d slammed the door against the wall.

“Drew Cunningham,” she said in a loving, wifely voice, “how many times have I told you that isn’t the way a gentleman enters a room?”

His relief was so great, he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He wanted to throw his arms around her. But they were legally separated, and she might resent an action like that.

He stood there for what seemed like a full minute, one hand on the brass knob, blinking, swallowing, thanking God.

And then he started noticing little things.

Things like the fact that her hair was still damp from a recent shower, and Gabrielle hated wet hair, especially when it was cool outside—and the temperature hadn’t gotten above forty so far today.

And she was wearing the outfit he liked so well, the one he’d bought her in Bozeman last July, when they’d gone into town for dinner. She hadn’t taken it with her when she left. Hadn’t taken anything he’d given her when she left. Tiny as she was, Gabrielle caught a chill quicker than anyone he could name. So why would she be wearing a sleeveless summer dress and strappy little sandals on a day like this?

She turned back to the stove, lifted the lid of the saucepan in one hand, picked up a giant stirring spoon with the other. She looked so good, so right standing there, as if she’d never left. A sob ached in his throat.

Drew bit his lower lip to still its trembling, took off his hat and scrubbed a leather-gloved hand over his face. “Thank You, Jesus,” he whispered. “Praise God.”

“What’s that, honey?” she asked distractedly.

His head snapped up in response to the endearment. Honey? She hadn’t called him that in…

In more than nine months.

Was this some sort of trick? Some stunt her big-city lawyer had dreamed up to get her a bigger piece of Walking C pie? He felt the heat rising in him, and clamped his teeth together. His own attorney had advised him not to say anything he might be sorry for later. It should have enraged him, that she’d waltzed in here as though nothing had happened, expecting him to like it. But all he could feel was gratitude. If she was toying with him, he didn’t care.

She’d almost gotten the better of him.

Almost, he thought, but not quite.

“What’re you doing here?”

She shot him an Are you kidding? grin. “I’m polishing my toenails,” she teased. After enjoying a girlish giggle at her own joke, Gabrielle added, “So, did you get the back fences repaired?”

The back fences? He tucked in his chin. He’d fixed those last fall.

She faced him then, and when she did, her long, luxurious auburn hair swung around her shoulders, wide gray eyes sparkling with…with love, just the way they had before she’d called it quits.

But wait just a minute here…what’s she up to, anyway? “Triumph is out behind the barn,” he began, taking care to keep a civil tone in his voice, “still saddled. Looks like he had himself one wild ride this morning.”

Her pale eyes darkened, reminding him of the storm clouds he’d seen over Beartooth earlier that morning.

“What! Someone rode him, then just left him standing there, saddle and all?” Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. “What kind of cretin would mistreat an animal that way?”

She rested both fists on her hips—on her shapely, womanly hips. Get hold of yourself, Cunningham, Drew warned himself.

Gabrielle was still frowning when she said, “If I get hold of the guy who—”

She seemed genuinely angry, which made no sense. No sense at all. “Gabby,” he interrupted, frowning, “you’re the guy, er, gal who had Triumph out this morning.”

She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Oh, Drew,” she said lightly, “you’re such a big tease! You know I’d never leave him saddled and ungroomed. I love that big bully!”

Tilting her head, she blinked flirtatiously. “Do you know what day this is?” she asked on a soft sigh.

“’Course I do.” He switched the hat from his left hand to his right. “It’s Saturday.”

“No, silly,” she said, sauntering nearer. “The date.”

Something warned him to take a step back, to keep his distance from this beautiful, sexy woman who, until nine months ago, had been his lawfully wedded wife. Instead, Drew planted his boots on the wide-planked kitchen floor, determined to stand his ground. This was his house, after all.

Until she left him, he’d considered everything that had been his just as much hers. But all that changed the morning she had the sheriff deliver the documents that said otherwise. This whole divorce thing was as ridiculous as it was unnecessary, because if she’d listened to his explanation about that night—

Smiling happily, she gave him a playful shove. “It’s our two-month anniversary, you insensitive boob. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to ply me with greeting cards and gifts for every month we’re together.” She took another step toward him, grabbed the lapels of his jacket. “But I do expect you to enjoy the supper I’ve made to celebrate this one.”

Two months? Drew had never considered himself the sensitive type who wrote poems and counted the weeks since their marriage, but they’d been married only slightly over nine months when she left, and she’d been gone a little longer than that. Drew knew, because he’d been counting those days.

If she hadn’t run off like a spoiled brat, they’d be celebrating a year of marriage soon instead of a couple of months! What is she trying to pull, pretending that she thinks—

It took him completely by surprise, the way she stepped right up and slipped her arms around him the way she would have before that awful night. It felt so good, having her this close, that Drew ignored the warning voice in his head, and buried his face in her mass of damp, chestnut curls. Eyes closed, he inhaled deeply. She even smelled wonderful.

“So, did you miss me while you were off riding the range?”

He heard the smile in her voice, felt the heat of her breath against his shirt. Did he miss her! Does Santa Claus have a weight problem? “Yeah,” he heard himself saying, “I missed you.” I’ve missed you like crazy, he added silently. For the time being, it didn’t matter what game she was playing—if, indeed, she was playing a game.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d changed her mind. True, she’d always been impulsive, but could she really be coming back to take up right where she left off, as if nothing had ever happened? One of her greatest assets was also her biggest flaw: she was a proud woman, intent on saving face at any cost, especially if she believed she was in the wrong.

Dear God in heaven, Drew prayed, closing his eyes, let that be what’s going on here, let her have come back home to stay. If that’s the case, I promise to make it up to her for what I did.

Gabrielle took a half step back, but without releasing him from her hug. “Are you hungry?”

He couldn’t tear his gaze from her face. The Lord had outdone Himself when He made this one. Drew thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He swallowed, licked his lips. “Guess I could pack away a helping or two,” he said instead.

“It’s lasagna.” She kissed his chin. “Just the way you like it. Easy on the mozzarella, extra ricotta cheese.” She stood on tiptoes to press a longer kiss to his cheek before settling back onto her heels. “I’m afraid I didn’t get you a present, though,” she said, running a hand through her thick curls. “Which is strange, because I could have sworn I had bought you a shirt—”

She had given him a shirt to celebrate their two-month anniversary. He’d worn it so often since she’d left that it was getting threadbare at the elbows and cuffs.

He grabbed her wrist and, frowning at her forehead, said, “Grandma’s gravy, Gabrielle! What have you gone and done to yourself?”

Shrugging, she put her fingertips to the bump on her temple. “Oh, that.” A slight flush colored her cheeks. “It’s nothing. Really. I clunked my head when I fell.”

She stopped talking so suddenly, Drew wondered if maybe something had stuck in her throat. “When you fell?”

Her smile faded and she stepped out of the embrace, leaving a cold, empty space where her warmth had been. “Wait a minute,” she began pensively, a forefinger in the air, “I think you’re right, Drew.” Brow furrowed, she began to pace. “I think…I think it was me who took Triumph out. I seem to remember—”

She slumped, trembling, onto a kitchen chair. Her lower lip began to quiver, the way it always did when she fought tears.

Drew got down onto one knee, turned her to face him. “Shh,” he soothed, “it’s okay.” He pulled her close. “You’re okay, and Triumph is a big strong critter. He’s no worse for the wear. I’ll go out in a bit and give him a good brushing.”

Tears were swimming in her eyes when she looked into his. “But…but it’s my responsibility. How could I have forgotten something as important as that?” She bit her bottom lip, then glanced toward the window, shaking her head. “I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Drew.”

She grabbed his shoulders. “How long do you think he’s been out there like that?”

He shrugged, torn between comforting her and protecting himself from whatever her lawyer had put her up to. “Couple of hours, from the looks of things.”

She sighed heavily. “Poor thing, standing around in that heavy saddle all this time, all dirty and sweaty. He must think I don’t give a hoot about him!”

Drew tugged off his gloves, tossed them onto the table and moved her hair aside to get a better look at the injury. “Shoo-ee. That’s some goose egg you’ve got there.”

“That’s what Troy said.”

“Troy?”

She nodded. “He picked me up on Highway 2-12, although I honestly don’t remember how I got there.”

Drew decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. She deserved that much. It had hurt like crazy when she’d given him that tongue-lashing the night she walked out. It wasn’t the angry words; nothing she said could ever be as painful as the plain fact that she’d left.

Comforting Gabrielle won out in the battle between protecting her or protecting himself. “Shh,” he said again. “You had a bad fall. That’s the beginning and the end of it.”

As though she hadn’t heard him, Gabrielle said, “Never stopped me from doing my job before.”

“Why are you always so hard on yourself? It wasn’t your fault Triumph threw you.” Lovingly, he tucked her hair behind her ears. “What made him buck?”

She rolled her eyes in frustration. “I’ve tried and tried to remember. Near as I can tell, a snake spooked him. When I came to, there was a dead—”

“Gabby!” Drew interrupted, giving her a gentle shake. “A rattlesnake?” He made a move as if to begin inspecting her, starting with her fingers.

“Relax, Drew,” she said, smiling sweetly. “From the looks of things, Triumph pounded that snake into the dust long before he had a chance to do either of us any harm.” A little giggle popped from her lips. Cuddling both of his hands beside her cheeks, she tilted her head to add, “My hero!”

“Joke all you want,” Drew said, standing. “I’m just relieved you’re all right.”

Sighing, Gabrielle got to her feet, too.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, as she headed for the stove.

“Turning down the oven so I’ll have time to take care of Triumph before supper,” she said. As if to punctuate the statement, Gabrielle staggered, and reached out for something to steady herself.

Drew let himself be that “something.” And once she’d regained her balance, he took her hand in his. “Come over here where the light is better,” he said, leading her to the window.

“Yes, Doctor,” she said lightly.

But Gabrielle followed, he noted, and stood quietly as he examined the lump, peered into her eyes. “Your pupils are so dilated I can barely tell what color your eyes are.” He headed for the door. “Get your coat. We’re going to the emergency room.”

She emitted a little gasp that made him want to wrap her in a reassuring hug.

“Don’t be silly,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’m fine.”

You’re good, honey, he thought, real good. And if he didn’t know her better, he might just swallow that bowl of bravado she’d just dished out. But her usually rosy cheeks were pale, and there was a blue cast to her otherwise pink lips. He didn’t like the way she was weaving and bobbing around the kitchen like a boxer who’d given his all in the ring, either.

“I’m fine. Really.”

“How ’bout we let a doctor be the judge of that?”

“But Drew,” she protested, hanging back as he opened the door, “our romantic anniversary supper is almost ready. All I have to do is light the candles.” She glanced out the window. “And Triumph, he’s—”

He took a quick look around. Why hadn’t he noticed before that she’d set the dining room table with the good dishes and flatware? Why hadn’t he seen that she’d put the silver candlesticks in the middle of his grandma’s linen tablecloth? His heart swelled, knowing she’d gone to so much trouble for him—for them—in her condition.

But how had she accomplished it, swooning like a drunken sailor as she must have been? Stubbornness, he decided, doing his best to hide a grin.

“Besides,” she persisted, “the nearest hospital is an hour away, in Bozeman, and you gave the hands the day off, remember? So they could go to Oktoberfest? We can’t leave the Walking C unattended that long.”

Oktoberfest? But that was—

“We can,” he said, turning off the oven, “and we will.” He jammed the Stetson onto his head. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it.” He grabbed her fringed jacket from the peg behind the door and shook it a time or two, like a matador tempting a bull.

“How about a compromise?” she asked, as he helped her into it.

Drew held the door open, as she stepped onto the porch. The night she’d left, his inflexibility was just one of the things she’d claimed was driving her away. He remembered his prayer: if the Almighty would see to it that Gabrielle was home to stay, he’d do whatever it took to make everything up to her.

“What sort of compromise?”

“Take me to Livingston, instead, to see Doc Parker.”

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding. “That makes sense.” He touched a scolding finger to her nose. “But if he sees anything suspicious, anything at all, we’re heading straight to Bozeman.” Narrowing his eyes, he added, “Got it?”

She sent him a flirty half grin and kissed the tip of that finger. “Got it.”

Habit made him head for the pickup. And then he saw the car he’d bought the week before Gabrielle left him. He’d seen it on the lot weeks before the breakup and had thought how cute she’d look behind the wheel, how much easier it would be for her to get into and out of, especially when she got all gussied up in one of her short skirts and high heels….

Much to his surprise—and dismay—she’d taken one look at the vehicle and stomped into the house without saying a word. One week later, to the day, she left him…in that car.

More than likely, the doc would confirm Drew’s suspicion that Gabrielle had suffered a concussion. How mild or severe was yet to be seen, but getting into and out of his high-riding pickup wouldn’t be easy for her.

Sighing, Drew helped her into the passenger seat of the car. As he revved the motor, he tried to ignore the fact that both Triumph and Chum still stood outside the barn, saddled and bridled and ungroomed. First things first, he told himself, and Gabby would always be the most important earthly being in his life.

He tried even harder not to react when she slid across the front seat and rested her head on his shoulder. Without giving it a second thought, his right arm went around her. What had made her snuggle up the way she used to? Instinct? A need for protection? Love?

But another question rang even louder in his mind. And if curiosity had killed the cat, Drew figured, he was as good as gone. As much as he wanted to know what had brought Gabby home, he was even more curious to know if she planned to stay.

Kent Parker was an old-fashioned country doctor who didn’t believe in sugarcoating things—for patients or their families. So it worried Drew more than a little when the doctor said, “Step into my office. I want to have a word with you in private while Gabrielle gets herself dressed.”

Parker peeled off his latex gloves and tossed them unceremoniously into the nearest trash can. “Your wife will be fine, just fine. She’s suffered a pretty serious concussion, but after a few days of R and R, Gabby will be her ornery old self again.”

“That’s a relief—”

“Bu-u-ut,” the doctor added.

Drew ran a hand through his hair. For all its wide open spaces, Montana may as well have been Mayberry, U.S.A. Because there weren’t a whole passel of folks around, those that were around knew just about everything there was to know about one another. Except for Doc Parker: he knew more than most. And right now, he knew there was a lot on Drew’s mind.