Montana Sky

sucked in her breath. “Don’t you scream. Nobody’s going to hear you, but I don’t want you screaming.” Mumbling to himself, he tugged out his bandanna, tied it quickly over her mouth. “I’m sorry I have to do it this way, but you just don’t understand yet.”
    Trying not to be angry with her, he strode back to his horse, swung on, and rode into the trees.
     
    W ELL , WILLA HAD MISSED HER SWIM , TESS THOUGHT AS she tied the belt of a short terry robe. She ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it back and wandered out of the pool house toward the kitchen.
    Probably still sulking, she decided. Willa took everything in and worried over it. It might be a good idea to try to teach her a few relaxation techniques—though Tess couldn’t quite visualize Willa meditating or experimenting with imaging.
    Rain would make her happy, Tess supposed. Lord, everyone around here lived their life by the weather. Too wet, too dry. Too cold, too hot. Well, in two months, she would say farewell, scenic Montana, and hello, LA.
    Lunch alfresco, she mused. Cartier’s. God knew, she deserved to treat herself to some ridiculously expensive bauble after this yearlong banishment from the real world.
    The theater. Palm trees. Traffic-choked highways and the familiar haze of smog.
    God bless Hollywood.
    Then she pouted a little because it didn’t sound quite as wonderful as it had a month before. Or a month before that.
    No, she’d be glad to get back. Thrilled. She was just feeling broody, that was all. Maybe she’d buy a place up in the hills rather than on the beach, though. She could have a horse up there, and the trees, the grass. That would be the best of both worlds, after all. A brisk, exciting drive from the excitement and crowds of the city home to the pleasure she’d come to enjoy of the country.
    Well, not exactly country, by Montana standards, but the Hollywood hills would do just fine.
    She could probably persuade Nate to come out and visit. Off and on. Their relationship would fade after a while. She expected and, damn it, accepted that. So would he. This wild idea of his to have her settle down here, get married, and start breeding was ridiculous.
    She had a life in LA. A career. She had plans, big, juicyplans. She would be thirty-one years old in a matter of weeks, and she wasn’t tossing those plans aside at this stage of her life to be a ranch wife.
    Any kind of a wife.
    She wished she had brought down a cigarette, but she swung into the kitchen in search of other stimulation.
    “You’ve had your share of ice cream.”
    Tess wrinkled her nose at Bess’s back. “I didn’t come in for ice cream.” Though she would have enjoyed one or two spoonfuls. She went to the refrigerator, took out a pitcher of lemonade.
    “You been skinny-dipping again?”
    “Yep. You ought to try it.”
    Bess’s mouth twitched at the idea. “You put that glass in the dishwasher when you’re finished. This kitchen’s clean.”
    “Fine.” Tess plopped down at the table, eyed the catalogue Bess was thumbing through. “Shopping?”
    “I’m thinking. Lily might like this here bassinet. The one we used for you girls wasn’t kept after Willa. He got rid of it.”
    “Oh.” It was an interesting thought, the idea of her and Lily and Willa sharing something as sweet as a baby bed. “Oh, it’s adorable.” Delighted, Tess scraped her chair closer. “Look at the ribbons in the skirt.”
    Bess slanted her eyes over. “I’m buying the bassinet.”
    “All right, all right. Oh, look, a cradle. She’d love a cradle, wouldn’t she? One to sit by your chair and rock.”
    “I expect she would.”
    “Let’s make a list.”
    Bess’s eyes softened considerably and she pulled out a pad she’d stuck under the catalogue. “Got one started already.”
    They made cooing noises over mobiles and stuffed bears, argued briefly over the right kind of stroller. Tess rose to get them both more lemonade, then glanced at the kitchen door when she heard footsteps.
    “I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she whispered, her nervous hand going to her throat.
    “Me either.” Calm as ice, Bess pulled her pistol out of her apron pocket and, standing, faced the door. “Who’s out there?” When the face pressed against the screen, she laughed at herself. “God Almighty, Ham, you nearly took a bullet. You shouldn’t be sneaking around this time of night.”
    He fell through the door, right at her feet.
    The pistol clattered as it hit the