Brooding clouds almost blocked the view of the hills, but she stared out, ready to face whatever trouble came. When her parents died, she'd been afraid to go more than a few blocks from her house. They'd always told her such stories of the evil that would find her unless she stayed inside. After they died, she realized what a cripple they tried to make her, and she forced herself to walk out into the world.
Bonnie closed her eyes and fought the panic. Her parents had also said her older brother would take care of her. That was why they left him all the money and her the house. He hadn't been home but a few times in years. He claimed the drafty old place made him sick. Her father grew too feeble to fix anything, and her mother wouldn't spend the money. By the time they died, nothing worked in the house, and mold grew over the basement walls. Her brother was angry that the deed to the house was in her name and swore he wouldn't give her a dime until she signed it over. What good was the house without any money to run it?
Bonnie straightened, not allowing one tear to fall. She'd been so afraid, but she'd walked to the hospital where her parents had often been treated. The nurses had always been kind to her, and they were again. She'd thought if she worked as a nurse, she'd be able to make enough money to keep the house. And she had. The worthless property was still in her name.
Staring into the stormy sky, she took a deep breath and told herself that she would survive. Whatever was out there, whoever threatened, she would survive. She'd save her salary until the day came that she was too old to work, then she'd go back to Boston and rebuild a cottage on the land where her house now stood.
The last bit of sunlight played off a movement coming from the trees. For a moment she thought it no more than a trick of the light, then she saw him coming toward the house: a tall man, leading his horse. A cowboy.
His head was down to the wind. She couldn't see his face. He wore a gun strapped to his leg, but so did many of the men she'd seen. She stood and waited, the rifle at the ready, even though she wasn't sure she'd remember how to fire it.
When he reached the steps of the porch, he looked up at her.
Bonnie stared at her cowboy. A beard an inch long covered his jaw and chin, and he looked like he'd aged since she'd seen him, but he was her cowboy. His brother had called him Bradford.
"Evening. Pretty Lady," he said in a low tone without moving closer or smiling. "It's good to rest my eyes on you again."
Bonnie couldn't have answered if her life depended on it.
In the nights she'd spent thinking of their time together, he'd become more dream than real.
He pulled off his worn hat and stared at her. "I had quite a time finding you. The Rangers down in Galveston considered jailing me for even asking about you.”
She still couldn't think of anything to say.
He twisted his hat in his big hands. After several seconds, he frowned. "You got a right to shoot me. I don't know much about women, but I know I was your first, and I did kidnap you. So, if you're planning to use that rifle, go ahead, 'cause I'm not leaving till I have my say."
"Why?" She finally found one word.
Bonnie saw the hurt in his eyes. "You know, I had this crazy feeling you might be glad to see me. That one night was the best of my life, but I guess you'd see it from different eyes. I just wanted to see you again and to say I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble.”
"You've been watching me."
He nodded. "I wouldn't have bothered you if I thought you were involved with someone. I even thought the boys might be your responsibility, and you wouldn't want me showing up in front of them. Then I worried over you being sweet on one of them young Rangers who hang around here.”
He finally looked straight at her and didn't turn away. "When everyone left yesterday, I knew you were like me… alone.”
Bonnie didn't know what to do. She'd never had a man come to the house, or flirt with her, or even talk to her. Bradford wasn't flirting with her now. It appeared that he traveled halfway across Texas just to look at her.
He wasn't any more skilled than she at conversation. He beat his leg a few times with his hat and didn't seem to notice the cold. She had a feeling he'd stand out here all night if she didn't do or say something.
She lowered the rifle. "You want to come in for a cup of coffee?"
"I'd like that.” He nodded once as if they'd settled on the makings of a plan. "Mind if I put my horse in the barn? It looks like bad weather is coming in.”
"All right.” She backed to the door. "I'll put a fresh pot on to boil.”
When he turned toward the barn, she went inside. For a time, she just leaned against the door and tried to think, then she crossed to the fireplace, replaced the rifle, and started a fire. By the time she heard him scraping his boots on the scraper by the kitchen door, she'd lit the lamps and had the coffee ready.
Without knocking, he stepped inside and removed his hat.
He stood watching her as if he wasn't sure what to do now that he was inside.
Trying not to stare at him, she kept busy moving food to the table. A hundred questions came to mind, but she couldn't seem to get any out. He seemed bigger somehow in the little kitchen, and he smelled of leather and trail dust. She caught a glimpse of gray at his temples and wondered if it had been there the night they'd made love.
The silence in the room widened the space between them. She had to think of something to say.
She settled on a simple statement. "My name's…" "Bonnie?" he finished. "I like that. It fits you somehow.” No one had ever told her such a thing, but she didn't want to talk about her name. Not with this man who knew her so well in other ways. "Have you eaten supper?"
"No."
She'd guess he hadn't had breakfast or dinner either, but she wouldn't comment on that. "I've plenty here. It's not Thanksgiving, but its filling. You're welcome to join me”
He never took his eyes off of her when he answered, "It'll do just fine. Thank you, miss”
Bonnie didn't look at him as she grinned. "Don't you think we should call each other by our Christian names, Bradford?"
"Yes"-he hesitated “Bonnie, I do”
She couldn't face him and wondered if he was across the room not looking at her as well.
Finally, when everything was ready, she collected enough nerve to face him. "Take off your coat, Bradford," she ordered, noticing he was still standing just inside the door. "Supper's ready”
Removing his coat, Bradford hung it on one of the hooks. His movements were slow, as if he'd ridden for days without sleep. "The barn door needs hanging. I could do that for you”
"You can wash up at the sink if you like” She held herself so stiffly, he probably thought she was made of board. She was being bossy, but she knew of no other way to act. She wanted to be the woman she saw herself to be in his eyes, but she didn't know how to start.
She didn't move as he crossed the room and rolled his sleeves up, revealing powerful forearms, tanned by years in the sun. The memory of his arm resting just below her breasts as they slept returned to her in great detail.
As he washed, she reached over and lightly touched his arm.
He stilled.
She pulled away, embarrassed by her boldness.
He went back to washing.
She reached for a towel and held it for him. When he took it from her, they were only a few feet apart.
With cheeks burning, she looked up at him. When she saw the longing in his eyes, she knew he'd relived their time together a million times as well.
"Mind if I kiss you?" he said simply.
"I don't mind." she answered. She stepped closer, not knowing how to play at being coy or shy.
He leaned over and touched his lips to hers, and as naturally as if they'd kissed for years, she moved into his arms and welcomed him home.
When she pulled away, he held her chair, then took his seat across from her. His hand had brushed across her shoulder as he'd moved behind her, and his knee bumped against hers beneath the table.