shared by her fellow sponsors who fluttered around their long-legged wagon master like hummingbirds around nectar. She seriously doubted whether any of them would be lodging any complaints in a court of law if he chose to return their attention.
It really was something to watch how gracefully Cody Walker managed to step around their every snare without giving the slightest offense. Apparently it was impossible for these ladies to be angry with a man who so cavalierly swept off his hat and wickedly smiled into their eyes, ensuring that each felt he was secretly flirting with her. The only one, it seemed, from age thirteen up, immune to their wagon master’s charms was Danielle herself.
Assuming that she was the only one who had been slung over his shoulder like prehistoric chattel, she couldn’t hold the other women’s weakness against them. Just the memory of his arms around her sent a curling heat unfurling in her body in pleasurable waves that threatened her grasp on reality. And the cold, hard reality was that Danielle had been married to just such a charmer, a man willing to share more than his winning smile with his female associates.
Danielle grimaced. She had been a perfect ninny, naively accepting at face value those all-too-frequent stories about having to work late. Had she not decided to drop by the office one night with some Chinese takeout, she would have never discovered her husband and an eager young trainee in a compromising position atop his desk. And Scott would more than likely still be playing her for a sucker. A lance pierced her heart at the memory of the awful night that had stripped away the last vestiges of her pride.
Never again, Danielle told herself fiercely. No, thank you.
Consciously hardening her heart against the rawboned cowboy leading their wagon train with the sinuous potency of a mountain lion, she reminded herself that there was no room in her life for any man at the moment, and most assuredly not for one who made her so achingly aware of the sexual dearth in her life.
Stumbling along in the deep ruts of the Oregon Trail in a pair of high-laced boots, Danielle had plenty of time to consider the decision that had brought her here. What at the time had made perfect sense seemed infinitely stupid when studied beneath the glare of the midday sun. Unlike other mothers who had high-powered jobs and pressing social engagements, Danielle had nothing to tie her down but a dreary list of entry-level Help Wanted ads. So when Lynn had come home from a Prairie Scout meeting one afternoon, echoing Hildy Fustis’s request to sponsor the troop on this Oregon Trail Trek, she’d succumbed to her daughter’s not-so-subtle arm twisting. It actually sounded like a pleasant alternative to spending the entire summer cooped up in a small, un-air-conditioned apartment with a budding teenager whose mood swings were as unpredictable as they were disconcerting.
Lately Lynn had donned the surly, snide attitude considered chic among her peers, even going so far as to verbalize how “crummy” their circumstances were in comparison to her friends’. Scott hadn’t been around enough for Lynn to miss him much, but she did openly miss her daddy’s money and was especially concerned how the lack of it could possibly jettison her from the “in” crowd at school. Lynn simply couldn’t understand why her mother’s pride had kept her from accepting more than the minimal child support payment from a man who obviously could afford more. Danielle didn’t have the heart to tell her that Scott had employed the best lawyer money could buy to avoid paying a penny more than he had to.
Hoping that an educational excursion into the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming would be just the ticket to reestablish the open, loving relationship she had once shared with her daughter, Danielle figured she’d teach Lynn something about the things that money couldn’t buy—things so obviously lacking in the expensive lifestyles of Lynn’s friends.
Feeling the hot sun beating down upon her, Danielle berated herself for such ingenuous optimism. Even though it probably included a bimbo on the crook of his arm, the trip to Disneyland that Scott had been dangling before Lynn’s nose for months could only look all the more appealing after a few days of this grinding ordeal. She grumbled beneath her bonnet that all her good intentions had accomplished was to land her smack-dab in the middle of hell with the devil himself as a wagon master.
With characteristic determination, she turned from such negative thoughts to the windswept landscape they were traversing. A land seemingly barren, it fostered hope of fresh beginnings. Ever-changing, it challenged the strong and mocked the weak. With consideration to the future, Danielle attempted to assess her own abilities. Her lack of college was proving to be a major stumbling block in securing a good job. Years ago when she had first broached the subject of pursuing a degree, Scott had immediately and firmly put the quietus on her hopes, blithely assuring her he would always be there to take care of her. All she had to do was hang tight to his rising star.
Choking on the memory, Danielle scanned a mental list of job possibilities. Other than dead-end minimum wage positions, the only thing she could come up with was the possibility of turning her cooking ability into something more substantial than a hobby. Insisting that they entertain frequently, Scott had demanded gourmet meals to impress his business associates. Over the years Danielle had satisfied the most discriminating palate. Beneath a bright, unclouded sky she pondered the possibility of starting her own catering service. Of course, starting one’s own business took money, and at the moment the only thing more obviously missing from her life than financial stability was sex. That was the only reason, she assured herself, that Cody Walker’s impetuous kiss had knocked her for such a loop.
“Just look at the way those jeans fit him,” Lynn sighed, interrupting her mother’s thoughts with adolescent adulation.
Ray Anne Pettijohn, who was pushing a handcart beside her, agreed. Both girls’ gazes lingered upon the fascinating fit of Cody Walker’s backside to his saddle. Their crushes were as obvious as the blinding sun overhead and every bit as scorching to Danielle.
“You’d do better to judge a man by the size of his heart rather than the cut of his jeans,” she suggested wryly.
Lynn rolled her eyes at the advice. “You judge ‘em the way you want, Mom, and I’ll judge ’em my way.”
Danielle bit her tongue. She couldn’t help but wonder just how enamored chubby Ray Anne would be when she discovered their sexy wagon master had confiscated her hidden stash of candy bars back at the rendezvous site.
Danielle’s new boots chafed almost as much as her daughter’s infatuation with the high-handed Mr. Walker. The only bit of comfort she had derived over the past couple of hours was from the fact that the driver assigned to their wagon was none other than Mollie, the bright-eyed pixie who had so enthusiastically welcomed them aboard. While her own troop inanely discussed the waning appeal of musical groups with bizarre-sounding names and enumerated at length the reasons why their parents should allow them to date at the ripe old age of thirteen, Mollie was busy citing various points of interest.
The child was as taken with a jackrabbit lippety-lopping across the trail as she was with the prairie dogs lining up outside their holes at her shrill whistle. When a herd of antelope kicked up their heels and left the wagon train eating their dust, Mollie’s laughter rang across the open range like tinkling chimes, her blue eyes sparkling with love for the vast land they were traversing.
As they slowly wound their way toward the Sweetwater River, Split Rock cast a long shadow over the sagebrushed plains. After just a few short hours of choking down trail dust, Danielle came to understand how that famous landmark had become such a beacon of hope. Eager for a taste of water that truly must have been sweet indeed for those trail-weary pioneers desperate to fill their canteens and wash away the grime of an unforgiving land, she was glad when Cody Walker signaled the wagon train to stop for lunch.
A short while later he approached their group, carrying two large cardboard boxes.
“How’s
