“Happy?” he asked her just before they drifted off to sleep, linked together, her legs entwined in his, and his arm around her shoulders.

“Mmmm…”She smiled at him with her eyes closed, and he kissed her eyelids once just before she drifted off to sleep. She awoke when he did at four o'clock the next morning and made her way back through the orchards behind the garden, slipped in through her half-open window, and turned on the lights. She showered as she always did, dressed, went to the main hall to breakfast, and thus, for Samantha Taylor, began a new life.

16

On Valentine's Day she got a card from Charlie Peterson from her office that made reference to her empty office. For the first time she thought of the job waiting for her in New York. She told Tate about it that night as she lay in his arms. It was a nightly ritual now. She was there each night no later than nine o'clock, after eating dinner with Aunt Caro and then taking a bath.

“What's he like?” Tate watched her with interest as she flung herself on the couch with a happy grin.

“Charlie?” She narrowed her eyes at the man who now felt like her husband. “Are you jealous?”

“Should I be?” His voice was even.

“Hell no!” The words were blended with a shout of laughter. “He and I have never been involved, besides he has a wife and three sons and she's pregnant again. I just love him like a brother, you know, kind of like my best buddy. We've worked together for years.”

He nodded. And then, “Sam, don't you miss your job?”

She was silent and pensive for a moment before answering and then shook her head. “You know, the amazing thing is that I don't. Caroline says it was that way for her too. When she left her old life, she just left it. And she never had any desire to go back. I feel that way too, I miss it less and less every day.”

“But you miss it some?” He had trapped her, and she rolled over on her stomach now and looked into his eyes as she lay on the couch and he sat near her with his back to the fire.

“Sure, I miss some of it. Like sometimes I miss my apartment, or some of my books, or my things. But I don't miss my life there. Or my job. Most of the things that I do miss are all the things that I could bring here if I wanted to. But the job… it's so strange, I spent all that time working so hard, and trying so damn hard to become important, and now…” She shrugged at him and looked like a very young, very blond sprite. “I just don't give a damn about that anymore. All I care about is if the steers are rounded up, if there's work to be done, if Navajo needs new shoes, if the fence in the north pasture is down. I don't know, Tate, it's as though something happened. As though I became a different person when I left New York.”

“But somewhere in you, Sam, is still that old person. That person who wanted to write prize-winning commercials and be important in your line of work. You're going to miss that one day.”

“How do you know that?” She looked suddenly angry. “Why do you keep pushing me to be what I don't want to be anymore? Why? Do you want me to go back? Are you scared of the commitment, Tate, of what it might mean?”

“Maybe. I have a right to be scared, Sam, you're a hell of a woman.” He knew that she wasn't willing to keep their life together a secret forever, that she wanted their love out in the open. That was something that worried him a great deal.

“Well, don't push me. Right now I don't want to go back. And if I do, I'll tell you.”

“I hope so.” But they both knew that her leave of absence had only six more weeks to run. She had promised herself that she would make a decision by mid-March. She still had a month. But only two weeks later, as they rode slowly back from the secret cabin where they still spent idyllic Sundays, he looked mischievous and told her that he had a surprise.

“What kind of surprise?”

“You'll see when we get home.” He leaned over toward her from where he sat on his pinto and kissed her full on the lips.

“Let's see… what could it be…?” She managed to look both naughty and pensive, and also very young, at the same time. She had her long blond hair in two pigtails tied with red ribbons, and she was wearing a brand-new pair of red snakeskin cowboy boots. Tate had teased her horribly about them, telling her that they were even worse than Caro's green ones, but with the Blass and Ralph Lauren and Halston wardrobe cast off since she'd arrived at the ranch, they had been her only whimsical purchase in three months. “You bought me another pair of boots? Violet ones this time?”

“Oh, no…” he groaned as they rode slowly home.

“Pink?”

“I think I'm going to throw up.”

“All right, something else. Let's see… a waffle iron?” He shook his head. “A new toaster?” She grinned, she had set fire to theirs only last week. “A puppy?” She looked hopeful and he smiled but once again shook his head. “A turtle? A snake? A giraffe? A hippopotamus?” She laughed and so did he. “Hell, I don't know. What is it?”

“You'll see.”

As it turned out, it was a brand-new color television, which he had just bought through Josh's brother-in-law in the nearest town. Josh had promised to drop it off at Tate's place on Sunday. And Tate had told him to leave it inside while he was out. And when he and Samantha came through the door, he pointed with an expression of pride mixed with glee.

“Tate! Babe, this is great!” But she was a lot less excited than she knew he was. She had been perfectly happy without one. And then she pouted coyly. “Does this mean the honeymoon is over?”

“Hell no!” He was quick to prove it, but afterward he turned on the TV. The Sunday news report was on. It was a special weekly wrap-up usually done by someone else, but tonight for some reason John Taylor was handling it, and as Sam saw him she suddenly stopped and stared at him, as though she was seeing him for the first time. It had been almost three months since she'd seen his face on TV, five since she'd seen him in person, and she realized now that she didn't care anymore. All that terrible hurt and pain had faded and all that was left now was a vague feeling of disbelief. Was this truly the man she had once lived with? Had she really loved that man for eleven years? Now as she watched him she thought he looked plastic and pompous, and suddenly the clear realization of how totally self-centered he was came to her for the first time and she wondered why she had never seen it before. “You like him, Sam?” Tate was watching her with interest, his angular rugged countenance in complete contrast to the baby-smooth golden boy looks of the younger man on the TV screen. And with an odd little smile Sam slowly shook her head, and then turned to face Tate.