made it possible for the horses to exist at all, to be kept on the ranch even at a loss to the company.
And besides, Tyler did love something with real passion. He loved the Double C, the ranch that had been home to him all his life. Sometimes in the darkness of his bed he’d stare at the ceiling and tremble, even feel hot, embarrassing tears stinging in his eyes at the thought of losing the place.
What if finances ever got so bad they’d have to give up the rolling ten thousand acres that were the heritage of the McKinney family? His children, and Cal’s and Lynn’s, would never ride across the green hills or fish in the river, or feel the warm Texas wind in their hair….
But he wasn’t about to share something so deeply private with a woman he’d just met and didn’t even know. After all, such emotions were difficult for Tyler to express even to the people who were nearer and dearer to him than anybody on earth.
He shifted restlessly on the worn vinyl of the booth seat, wondering if a woman like Ruth Holden expected that kind of openness in a man.
Maybe she did. Probably she hung around with sensitive guys in silk shirts and neck chains, who studied their horoscopes every day and were in touch with their feelings.
“Hey, Tyler, whadda ya think?” Wayne Jackson called across the room. “Ten bucks a square, an’ the winner gets a case of whiskey?”
“Two bits a square,” Tyler called back firmly, “and the winner gets a free beer. The problem with you guys,” he added, grinning at Ruth, “is that y’all are just so damn greedy.”
Ruth’s cheeks colored faintly when he said this and she met his eyes with a startled look, then glanced quickly away, wondering if the man had somehow read her mind.
Not likely, she thought. Tyler McKinney didn’t have enough sensitivity to read any woman’s mind. He was probably like a lot of people, always quick to criticize something in others that was actually one of his own worst flaws.
She dismissed the thought and returned to her examination of the coffee shop with its red-checked cloths, its chalkboard and big vinyl menus and miniature jukeboxes on each table.
“Care for a tune?” Tyler asked, flipping though the numbered pages and squinting at the various musical offerings while a pleasant young woman delivered their coffee and pastries.
“No thanks,” Ruth said automatically. She smiled up at the waitress and wondered who’d chosen the song currently playing, a noisy wailing number in which some errant husband was apparently pleading with his wife to open the door and let him in.
While they were eating Ruth gazed curiously at the other patrons of the coffee shop, mostly bluff hearty men with hats and boots. But there were a few women, too, secretaries enjoying afternoon coffee breaks and young ranch wives in town for a day’s shopping with their babies.
Two women sat in a booth near the back, and Ruth grew interested in them when she realized that the younger of the pair was studying her and Tyler with unwavering attention.
She was actually just a girl, Ruth realized, probably in her late teens. She had a pale pretty face, carefully made up, and a cloud of dark curly hair. Her eyes were her most arresting feature, large and shining and such a light blue that they were almost transparent, giving her a remote, ethereal look. The young body was ripe and full-breasted, probably destined to become hefty with advancing years. But Ruth didn’t realize until the girl shifted in the booth that her pink gingham shirt was actually a maternity smock, curving neatly over a small swollen abdomen.
The girl had a strangely passionate, concentrated look about her, an avid expression that was unsettling in its intensity. She seemed sly and secretive when she met Ruth’s glance, like some small predatory animal peering out from behind dense cover, pondering whether to attack or escape.
The woman with her was entirely different, tall, plain and rawboned, with a gruff sensible manner and large work-worn hands. Her hair was mostly gray, hacked off carelessly around her ears, and she wore a man’s shirt and jeans. Still, there was a mysterious similarity between the two, a likeness in bone structure and features that told Ruth they were probably mother and daughter.
While Ruth watched, the two women finished their fries and paid the bill, then gathered up handbags and parcels and walked toward the door. They passed close to Ruth and Tyler, and the younger one gave them another look of such intensity that Ruth was startled, even a little troubled.
“Tyler,” she whispered when the two had gone by, “who are those women?”
Tyler peered at the departing pair, frowning as he searched his memory. “I think their name’s Hill, something like that,” he said finally. “There was a big family of them, about eight kids, living in a little shack on the outskirts of town. Their daddy wasn’t good for much, just drinking and odd jobs. He got killed on the road a few years back, run over by an oil truck when he was walking home one night, and she moved the kids over to Lampasas. I think she’s working for a turkey farmer up there.”
“And the girl? Is that her daughter?”
Tyler nodded. “Must be the oldest girl. She’s all grown-up now. I remember her as a scrawny kid with a bunch of little brothers and sisters trailing after her. Come to think of it,” he added thoughtfully, “somebody told me she was back in Crystal Creek, working for Ralph Wall over at the drugstore. I forgot about it till you asked.”
“She looks like she’s pregnant.”
“Looks like,” Tyler said with a grin. “Why? What’s so interesting about those two?”
Ruth hesitated, wondering whether to tell him about the girl’s fixed scrutiny and the disturbing light in her eyes while she watched them.
“Oh, nothing,” she said finally. “You’re right about one thing,” she added, trying to sound cheerful. “These are just the most wonderful doughnuts in the whole world.”
“I told you,” Tyler said. “Dottie makes ’em fresh every morning. Well, are you ready to leave, Ruth? It’s probably safe to go home now, and I want to show you my plans for the vineyard.”
Ruth nodded automatically and gulped the last of her coffee, then waited while Tyler paid the bill and escorted her toward the door with its cheery curtain of red gingham.
She shivered when he took her elbow and pressed close behind her, disturbed by his nearness and the feel of his body against hers. No matter how she felt about Tyler McKinney, Ruth told herself again, there was certainly no denying the man’s physical appeal. She’d have to be careful to…
But she didn’t have a chance to finish the thought. When she and Tyler emerged onto the street in the slanting afternoon sunlight, the mother and daughter from the restaurant were standing just a few doors down, looking in the window of a clothing store while the older woman held forth on the exorbitant prices of children’s clothes these days.
The young girl looked at them and quickly fumbled with something that looked like a camera, then turned away with deliberate composure, rummaging in her big patchwork handbag and answering a question from her mother.
Ruth paused nervously and glanced up at Tyler to see if he’d noticed. But he was laughing and chatting with a young cowboy who’d slowed his pickup truck on the street to call out a greeting, and had apparently missed the whole incident.
Still feeling unsettled and troubled, Ruth walked beside Tyler in silence and allowed him to help her into the waiting Cadillac, while the pregnant girl in the pink smock stood on the sidewalk, watching their departure with those smoldering pale blue eyes.
“JODIE HILTZ, what in the world do you think you’re doin’?”
“My name is Jacqueline,” the dark-haired girl said, strolling along the street and gazing dreamily at her reflection in the store windows. “Jacqueline Hillcroft.”
“Like hell it is,” Marg Hiltz said coldly. “Your name is plain Jodie Hiltz, and you’d better stop puttin’ on