Danielle Steel - The Ranch

“She is,” Mary Stuart said staunchly.

“Do you work with her?” He didn't want to pry, but he wondered if the two women constantly at her side were her assistants.

“We were college roommates,” Mary Stuart explained with a smile.

“And you're still friends? How amazing. Now, there's a story,” and then he quickly explained himself before he could alarm her, “for a book, not the tabloids,” he specified, and they both laughed.

“Thank you. She gets such a rough break all the time. It's so unfair.”

“You stop being human to them the moment you're a star. You no longer matter, you become human garbage,” he said sadly, and Mary Stuart nodded.

“She calls it ‘life as an object.’ She says you become a thing, and anything they do to you then is allowed. She's put up with a lot. I don't know how she does it.”

“She must be strong,” and then he smiled at Mary Stuart, admiring her impeccable good looks. He loved her style, but he wouldn't have dared tell her. “She's fortunate to have good friends.”

“We're lucky to have her.” Mary Stuart smiled again. “It was really serendipity that we came here. It all kind of happened at the last minute.”

“How fortunate for the rest of us,” he said. “The three of you certainly improve the landscape.” He glanced from her to Tanya, looking glorious, as she loped easily along beside the wrangler, but Mary Stuart noticed that they weren't talking, just riding. “She's an incredible-looking woman.” He couldn't help but admire her, and Mary Stuart nodded with a smile, completely without envy. “I really enjoy her music. I have all of her CD's,” he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed, and Mary Stuart laughed as she smiled at him.

“I have all your books.” She blushed as she said it.

“Do you?” He looked pleased and held a hand out to her and introduced himself, though it was obviously not necessary, just good manners. “Hartley Bowman.”

“I'm Mary Stuart Walker.” They shook hands across their horses’ necks, and rode on together comfortably. Tanya and the wrangler were far ahead by then, the trio of doctors bringing up the rear, discussing articles and research, and some new research that had been done recently in oncology at Mass General.

Mary Stuart and Hartley chatted for a while, about books, and New York, the literary scene, other authors, and Europe, when she said her daughter was studying in Paris. They seemed to touch on a wealth of subjects, and they were both surprised when the wrangler turned slowly around and led them back to the corral. It was lunchtime. Hartley and Mary Stuart were still chatting when they dismounted. And she noticed an odd look on Tanya's face when she got off Big Max and handed the reins to the wrangler.

“Are you okay?” she asked as Tanya walked over to join them, and she introduced her to Hartley.

“I'm fine. But our wrangler is really strange. He absolutely would not say one word to me. We just rode out, and then back. He acted like I had bubonic plague or something. He hates me.” Mary Stuart laughed at her analysis of the situation. She had never met a man who hated Tanya, certainly not at first meeting.

“Maybe he's shy,” Mary Stuart volunteered. He looked pleasant enough. He just wasn't very chatty.

“A lot of them are,” Hartley explained. “The first few days they barely say hello, and by the time you leave, you feel like brothers. They're not used to all this big-city stuff, and they're not as chatty as we are,” he said, and Tanya looked at him with a smile.

“I thought I'd said something to offend him.” Tanya looked slightly worried.

“I suspect Liz told him to behave himself with you, not to say too much. It's got to be pretty impressive for these guys to be around a big star like you,” he grinned and looked like a kid then, gray hair and all, “it even makes me tremble a little. I have all your CD's, Miss Thomas, and I love them.”

“I've read your books, and I like them too.” She smiled at him. It always amazed her when someone important was impressed with her. She never completely understood it. “I like them a lot.” They both looked shy with each other, uncomfortable with their own success to a degree. Each of them were stars in their own right. He seemed much more at ease with Mary Stuart than with Tanya, and then Zoe joined them, saying she'd had a great morning. She'd really enjoyed talking to the two doctors. And Mary Stuart introduced her to Hartley.

“What's your specialty?” he asked amiably as they wandered back toward their cabins to wash up before lunch.

“AIDS,” she said simply, “and related problems. I run a clinic in San Francisco.” He nodded. He'd been thinking about doing a book about it, but he'd been dragging his feet about doing the research. It seemed so depressing. But he was obviously fascinated by what she did, and asked her a great many questions. And he seemed sorry to leave them at their cabin, and said he'd see them at lunchtime. He went off on his own, head down, looking pensive, as he walked toward his cabin, and Tanya watched him.

“What an interesting man,” Tanya commented as they walked into their home away from home, and she took her scarf off. It had gotten hot since that morning.

“He's crazy about your music,” Mary Stuart said encouragingly. She would have loved to see Tanya with someone like Hartley, although she had to admit they didn't seem to have a lot in common. Hartley was very smooth and very Eastern, intellectual but worldly somehow, and very polished. Tanya was so much more exuberant and sensual, not wild, but so alive. Mary Stuart thought she needed someone more powerful to tame her, or at least make her happy.

“He may be crazy about my music,” Tanya said wisely, better versed in the ways of the world than Mary Stuart, “but he likes you, kiddo. It's written all over him. He couldn't take his eyes off you.”

“That's bullshit. He's intrigued by all three of us. You know, kind of like Charlie's Angels.”

“I'll bet you money he comes on to you before you leave here,” Tanya said with total certainty, and Zoe rolled her eyes at both of them and washed her hands in the kitchen.

“You two are disgusting. Is that all you think about? Dating?”

“Yeah,” Tanya said with a mischievous grin. “Sex. Read the tabloids.” But they all knew better. Tanya had always been, and still was, very moral. Perhaps even more so than the others, and she'd always been monogamous, even in college. “I'm telling you what I see. The guy is crazy about Mary Stuart.”

“How crazy can he be? I just met him this morning.”

“Well, his wife died a couple of years ago, right? So he's got to be horny as hell, so watch out for him, Stu. He could be a wild man.” Mary Stuart and Zoe were both laughing at her, as she pinned her thick blond hair up on her head without looking and instantly looked even sexier than she had at breakfast.

“Why don't you wear a bag over your head or something?” Mary Stuart said in disgust. “I don't know why I bother to comb my hair when you look like that without looking in the mirror.”

“Yeah, and look how much good it does me. Even the wrangler won't give me the time of day. Christ, I thought the guy's lips had been sewed shut. He never said one word to me. What an asshole.”

“Are you trying to pick up the wranglers now?” Zoe shook a finger at her, and Tanya looked insulted.

“I just wanted somebody to talk to. Tolstoy or Charles Dickens or whoever he is was chewing Mary Stuart's ear off, you and the docs from Chicago were talking about disgusting stuff that makes my stomach feel sick, and that left me with Roy Rogers. Well, let me tell you, the guy gets an F in conversation.”

“Better than if he got fresh with you,” Zoe said matter-of-factly, “or were some crazed fan asking dumb questions.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she conceded, “but it sure was boring.” They heard the bell ring for lunch then, and were just starting out the door of the cabin when the phone rang. The three of them looked at each other, tempted not to answer, but they knew they had to. Zoe volunteered to do phone duty. It could have been Sam about one of her patients, or Jade. But it was Jean, Tanya's assistant. She had to talk to her about a contract. She was sending the originals for the concert tour, and a red-lined copy by Federal Express, at the request of her lawyer, and he wanted to talk to her as soon as she read it. Just listening to her made Tanya antsy.

“Okay. I'll look at it when it gets here.”

“He wants you to send it back right away. No kidding.”

“Okay, okay, I'll do it. Anything else major I need to know about?” An employee she'd dismissed had signed a release agreeing not to sue, which was a relief for a change, Vogue and Harper's Bazaar both wanted to do spreads on her, and one of the movie magazines was poking around to do a really nasty story. “Thanks for the good news,” she said, hating to hear all of it. It brought the big bad world right to her doorstep in Wyoming. She couldn't wait to hang up and join the others.

“Everything okay?” Mary Stuart looked at her with concern. Tanya looked upset again, and her friend hated to see it.

“More or less. Someone's not suing for a change, and some lousy magazine is going to run another ugly story. No big deal, I guess.” But it was as though they broke off a piece of her soul each time they did it, like an old, stale cookie. And one day, there would be no pieces left at all. She would have no soul left. But to them, it made no difference.

“Don't pay any attention to it,” Zoe suggested. “Just don't read it.” There had been some critical articles about her when she'd first started the clinic, but that wasn't the same thing and Tanya knew it better than she did. This was so personal, so hurtful, so invasive, and always so ugly.

“Try to forget it,” Mary Stuart said, and both women put their arms around Tanya's waist, and the three of them walked up to the dining room, talking like that, with no idea of the powerful impression they made as they walked along. They were three very striking women. And from his deck, unnoticed by them, Hartley Bowman was watching Mary Stuart.

Their ride that afternoon was just as pleasant as the one that morning, and they rode out again in the same groups and configurations. They were assigned the same wrangler and the same horses for the duration of their stay, so Liz, the head of the corral, was anxious to know if everyone was satisfied with their mounts and their cowboys. And no one seemed to have any complaints that she knew of.

Zoe chatted with the doctors again that afternoon, and Tanya tried not to listen as they had moved on to transplants, which was no better than the discussion about severed limbs earlier that morning. And trying to leave Mary Stuart alone with Hartley as they discussed a book they'd both read, she moved ahead again with the wrangler. Once again, they rode for what seemed like miles, in silence. And then finally, Tanya couldn't stand it, and she looked at him from across her horse's neck, but he never even looked at her. It was as though he had no idea who she was beside him. It was entirely up to her to keep up with him, he never once acknowledged her presence.

“Is there something about me that bothers you?” she asked, with an irritated expression. He was really beginning to annoy her. She was not having fun, and she didn't even like him.

“No, ma'am. Nothing at all,” he said, without a change of expression. She thought he was going to lapse into silence again and she wanted to hit him with her cowboy boot. He was the most taciturn man she'd ever met, and she couldn't stand it. Usually people at least talked to her, or looked at her, or something. She had never met anyone with reactions like Gordon. But he surprised her after another half mile, while she was debating whether or not it was worth the trouble of trying again, just to see if he would answer. “You're a real good rider.” At first, she couldn't believe he'd spoken, and this time he glanced at her sideways, and then looked away just as quickly. It was almost as though her light was too blinding. It was that that was troubling him, but she didn't know that.

“Thank you. I don't like horses.” Or cowboys. Or people who don't talk to me. Or anything about you.

“I saw that on your card, ma'am. Any special reason? You taken a bad fall sometime?” She suspected it was the most he'd said all year to anyone, but at least he was trying. He was clearly a man of few words, but she was beginning to wonder if Hartley was right, and he was shy and not used to city people. He should have taken a job doing shoes then, not riding with hotel guests, she thought as she watched him.