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“Over there,” he guffawed.
The location to which he pointed hardly provided any privacy. Sheila blushed furiously, and Danielle’s eyes flashed like summer lightning, burning a hole right through Cody.
Keenly aware that he had just wrinkled the suit of armor in which these girls had dressed him, Cody felt a stab of guilt at the wounded look in Sheila’s eyes. Maybe he was being too rough with Troop Beverly Hills. The disconcerting thought took him back in time to his own callow youth. How many times had he himself been ridiculed as a country bumpkin when he had been lost in the big city trying to peddle those first humble, heartfelt songs?
Remembering his promise never to become such a selfindulgent big shot that he was beyond simple kindness and common courtesy, Cody hastened to lessen the sting of Sheila’s humiliation.
Bestowing a slow smile upon the girl that made her blush from the top of her blond head to the bottom of her boots, he said with a wink, “I’ll tell you what. There’s a rest stop just over the next hill. If you’d like, you can hop on back of ol’ Champ, here, and I’ll tote you on over there.”
That wink was Sheila’s undoing. She nodded her head gratefully. Cody reached down and in one graceful move pulled her up behind him in the saddle. Squealing with delight, the girl waved to her friends as they galloped over the hill.
When they returned a few moments later, Sheila wore a look of simpering adoration. Danielle thought it obvious that she couldn’t wait to share every heart-quickening minute with her friends who were certain to be green with envy.
That their wagon master had assuaged Sheila’s feelings only slightly mollified Danielle. As far as she was concerned, Cody Walker was brutish and insensitive. Maybe Sheila’s question had been silly, but the extent of camping that these girls shared was limited to backyard sleep-overs. In her opinion, it was as reprehensible for a grown man to make poor Sheila the butt of his joke as it was to lump everyone from the city into the category of utter simpletons. It hadn’t escaped her notice that some of the other Prairie Scouts were now openly referring to them as Troop Beverly Hills. Since Danielle had firsthand knowledge of who had coined that particular phrase, she intended to give that John Wayne wanna-be a piece of her mind the first chance she got.
Like bright but fragile posies, the girls were beginning to droop beneath a sun too hot. What had once sounded romantic and adventurous was quickly proving to be a lot of hard work. Their meager lunches had worn off long ago, and fatigue was beginning to manifest itself in the guise of petty sniping.
“Knock it off!” Danielle commanded, determined to nip such thoughtlessness in the bud. “Time won’t pass any faster if you pick at each other. We’ve got a long way to go and two weeks to prove we’re women enough to handle whatever this trail has to throw at us. I expect not to be defeated from within our own ranks before the end of the very first day.”
She hated sounding so gruff, but this wasn’t exactly a picnic for her, either. It had been a long time since she had put such rigorous demands upon her body, and it was reacting with aching indignation. By the time the wagon train rolled to their final stop of the day, they had traveled a little under eight miles, and Danielle was sure her feet had a blister to show for each one of them.
She pressed her hands to the small of her back before throwing herself into the task at hand. Telling herself that if she could whip up an appetizing dinner using only primitive tools and limited ingredients, she might just consider approaching the Small Business Administration for a loan when they got back to Denver.
“Pssssst!”
Danielle jumped at the sound. Their wagon master had been quite firm in his directive to all participants before they had begun their trek. “Keep your eyes and ears open to any possible danger. You never can tell in what form it’ll jump out at you.”
“Psssssst!”
Praying that it was not the sound of an irate rattlesnake, Danielle armed herself with an iron skillet.
“Over here,” called a small voice from behind the wagon.
Danielle sighed in relief. It was Mollie.
Oblivious to the fact that she had almost scared Danielle out of her wits, she chirped, “I’ve got something for you.”
In her hand, she held a candy bar. A king-size, doublefudge, peanut-packed fistful of satisfying calories.
Danielle salivated at the sight of it. As outlined in the packet they had received beforehand, candy was clearly considered contraband. Everything was supposed to be as authentic as possible, and since the early pioneers had to do without artificial flavorings and preservatives, the Prairie Scouts were expected to, as well.
Danielle looked over both shoulders before accepting the candy bar. “I’ll split it with you,” she whispered to her child conspirator.
“That’s all right,” Mollie said with a mischievous grin. “I’ve got a secret stash. If you want, I can keep you supplied through the whole trip.”
“You know you could make a fortune selling this on the black market,” Danielle mumbled through a mouthful of heavenly goo. “But you’d better not let Captain Bligh see you scalping any of this or he’ll have you keelhauled under a Conestoga.”
Mollie’s blue eyes darkened in confusion.
“Captain Bligh?”
“You know, the Hunchback of the Wagon Train...Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Raw Hide...”
Clearly the strained literary allusions were lost upon the child.
“Our illustrious wagon master.”
Mollie was seized by a fit of giggles. “Daddy’s sure got you buffaloed, hasn’t he?”
Danielle choked on melted chocolate.
“D-daddy?” she sputtered.
It was impossible. This darling little imp could not possibly be the devil’s spawn.
“Ah, there’s nothing to worry about. He’s just like melt in your mouth candies—hard on the outside but soft and sweet on the inside.”
Both Mollie’s ancestry and her analogy seemed dubious, but looking at the girl more closely, Danielle recognized his eyes staring back at her.
It was unnerving. Undeniably Cody Walker had passed this living legacy on to his daughter. Danielle could only assume that the girl had received her delightful disposition from her mother. Which made her wonder—where, by the way, was that long-suffering saint? If the poor woman had any sense at all she would take her husband’s flirtations more seriously. Rubbing the back of her hand over her mouth, Danielle told herself that had she known earlier that Cody was married, she would never have allowed him the liberties he had taken with her lips. Apparently the creep shared more with her ex-husband than stunning good looks.
Swallowing the last bite of her candy bar, Danielle mumbled, “Your poor mother.”
“Huh?” Mollie’s brow knitted in confusion.
Danielle hastened to cover the remark. “I was wondering which one of the sponsors is your mother?”
“My mother’s dead.”
Regretting her previous lack of charity, Danielle’s eyes misted over at the thought of this sweet child growing up without a mother’s love. This revelation put Cody Walker in an entirely different light. Earlier in the day she would have placed a substantial bet that their wagon master was a confirmed bachelor whose sense of responsibility reached no further than his libido. As a single parent herself, Danielle realized how difficult it was to raise a child all alone. She promised to try to be cordial to Cody in the future, if only for Mollie’s sake.
“Want some help with supper?” the girl asked, her twinkling blue eyes registering an eagerness to please.
Danielle smiled. How often had she nagged at Lynn to show such acts of simple consideration only to be met with a stony silence that implied those were unfair expectations from a bygone age? With some luck, maybe a little of Mollie’s country manners would rub off on her own citified daughter.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d get Lynn and the other girls to help you gather up some firewood.”
As Mollie scampered off to do as she was asked, Danielle set about preparing dinner, throwing herself into the task at hand with as much vigor as she could muster. She figured cooking over a campfire wouldn’t be all that different from her gas stove at home—except for controlling the heat, of course.
The girls were so hungry after their meager lunch and exhausting walk that they were willing to eat cooked shoe leather. Danielle’s quickly thrown together pot of pork and beans met with hearty appetites.
She was just cutting into a fragrant pan of apple cobbler when who should come sniffing into camp like a lost, forlorn pup but Cody Walker himself. His dark hair had been combed into damp submission, and he was humbly holding his hat in hand. Catching a drift of, his masculine scent, Danielle felt her heart climb to her throat and lodge there permanently.
“Something sure smells good,” Cody exclaimed, wielding the compelling allure of his boyish smile upon the entire troop with practiced expertise.
Eagerly succumbing to his charms, the girls fell all over themselves to make room around the fire for their handsome wagon master.
Danielle was less receptive to the idea.
“Won’t it hurt your reputation to be seen sharing a meal with such a misbegotten collection of city slickers as ‘Troop Beverly Hills’?” she asked pointedly.
“Actually, I plan on eating all my meals with my daughter. Do you have a problem with that?”
Tinged with masculine roughness and grit, Cody’s voice was as disquieting as his eyes. The way those eyes glittered reminded Danielle of a sleek panther stalking his prey. As their gazes melded, electricity arched between them, crackling in the cool evening air, and Danielle flinched beneath the shower of invisible sparks that engulfed her. She had assumed their arrogant wagon master would simply float from one den mother to another, receiving a complimentary serving of adoration with each meal. That he wanted to share all his meals with his daughter softened her heart a little. She couldn’t so much as picture Scott beside their daughter at anything as unpretentious as a camp-out-
“Mother, you’re embarrassing me!” Lynn whispered through clenched teeth.
Mollie interjected with a mischievous smirk, “Why don’t we make him sing for his supper?”
Grateful for an easy way out of this strange modern day showdown, Danielle conferred a hesitant smile upon their uninvited dinner guest. “That sounds like fair payment to me.”
Glad that she wasn’t on the receiving end of the look of censure Cody shot his daughter, she noticed with more than just a smidgeon of satisfaction that Mollie pointedly ignored his fierce scowl. So she wasn’t the only parent around whose teenager occasionally exhibited selective perception.
Cody was fuming. Mollie knew damned good and well that the last thing he wanted was to chance being recognized. She was, after all, the one who had suggested he use his given name instead of his stage name of Cameron while on this trip. While he was relieved that no one had caught on to his ruse so far, what Mollie had so blithely suggested was too risky to chance. Apparently she no longer thought it mattered now that they were already on the trail. So what if her father was discovered to be a popular country singer now that they were far, far away from the journalists who made it so impossible for them to lead normal lives? Cody knew he shouldn’t mind that Mollie was proud of him and wanted to show him off a little, but he did.
Part of the reason he had agreed to lead this expedition at all was that he was feeling so used up by the cutthroat mentality of the business. His agent was certain that the only thing that mattered in a performer’s life was the bottom line. For all intents and purposes, Cody’s personal life had become a thing of the past. He needed time away from it all. The music industry was a hard business. The necessary self-promotion, the phoniness, the desperate groupies, the endless demands on his time and energy, all presented a constant drain that was threatening to erode those core beliefs that he had once thought to be unshakable.
While this wasn’t exactly the holiday he’d had in mind, it was nice just being treated like everybody else for a change. He had become so used to women in particular fawning all over him in insincere attempts to curry favor that Danielle’s feisty resistance to his charm was in itself refreshing. It had been a long, long time since any woman had warmed his blood like this contrary redhead did. Just the sight of her framed against a golden sunset stirring that fragrant concoction in her caldron sent his pulse racing with pleasure.
Cody had seen the momentary flash of longing in her eyes when he had kissed her, felt it in the way her body had melted against his, making it hard to tell where his skin ended and hers began. He had been almost as shocked by his equally explosive reaction as by her subsequent attempt to push him away. After years of having women throw themselves at him, it both bewitched and bewildered him that she would put a stop to his kisses. Would she have done so had she known he were famous rather than the trail bum she assumed him to be?
Fame had its advantages, but it tended to twist others’ perceptions of him in ways that were far from honest and forthright. When Danielle saw him for who he really was, she would be the one singing another tune. And that would simply reinforce his belief that Rachael’s innate goodness had ruined him for other women who were, by and large, all gold diggers.
Considering the shock of the intensity of his reaction to Danielle, Cody wondered if there was more at stake here than he was willing to admit. When Rachael died, grief had completely devoured him. Over the years it had slowly dissipated into a nagging ache that left him hollow and numb. But despite his intense loneliness, he had no desire to ever marry again. Love simply hurt too damned much when you reached that “till death do you part” clause. Never again would he willingly open himself to such pain.
Apologizing over the rumbling in his stomach, he tried to weasel out of the bargain his daughter had proposed. “I wouldn’t want to hurt anybody’s ears with my caterwauling.”
Afraid that their handsome wagon master was about to get away, the troop tuned up with a burst of pleading.
“Please...” they begged in unison.
The way Cody Walker’s smile lit up each girl from the inside out sent a fist right into Danielle’s gut. How could she possibly teach her daughter to protect herself from such easy charm when her own barriers were proving far from impenetrable?
She herself had only been a couple of years older than Lynn when she had succumbed to Scott’s slick brand of charisma. That experience alone should have made her immune to this cowboy’s crooked smile and his kisses, the mere memory of which sent a quiver of liquid fire right through her. Rubbing the back of her hand over her lips, she chastised herself for feeling so off balance. It was just a kiss for goodness’ sake. One that has you as twisted up inside as a regulation Prairie Scout knot....
At last giving in to the girls’ pleas, Cody gave Danielle a strange, searching look before easing out of camp to return a few minutes later carrying a guitar that looked like it had seen better days. Carefully avoiding eye contact, Danielle doled out generous portions of dinner and pushed a plate into his hands. He lapped up the steaming food like a man offered his last meal. Flattered by his eager consumption, Danielle refilled his plate—twice.
“Thanks, Red, I can’t remember ever eating anything that ever tasted better on the trail.”
The lazy smile that accompanied this proclamation suggested that he was doing his best to coax a smile from her. Danielle merely shrugged at the flattery. Even if his compliment warmed her from the inside out like a ray of sunshine on a cold, blustery day, she wasn’t about to let him know it.
“The least you could do to show your appreciation is to call me by my rightful name,” she snapped.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied evenly.
Danielle bristled. Even “Red” sounded sexier than “ma’am.” Would she have to pay the man to use her given name? Without a doubt Cody Walker was the most aggravating man she had ever met. One moment he had her feeling like a sixteen-year-old in the onslaught of puberty and the next like some ageless curmudgeon.
When he had his fill, Cody began tuning up his old guitar. As he lovingly stroked the scarred and battered wood, Danielle couldn’t help but wonder what twist of fate had led him to this kind of life. Clearly there was a magnetism about this man that set him apart from others. It was hard to think he was nothing more than another down-on-his-luck drifter. Maybe this particular wrangler was caught between rodeos, working this odd job to pay for entry fees. When she caught herself wondering if he were between women, as well, Danielle swatted the thought away like a pesky fly. That was no concern of hers.
Light from the campfire illuminated Cody’s rugged features as his voice filled the open prairie with a sound as pure as the country itself. No doubt about it, he was good—really good. From the most tender ballad to the rowdiest tune, he had them all in the palm of his hands for the better part of an hour. The way the girls openly swooned in awestruck wonder reminded Danielle of old film clips of ponytailed adolescents fainting to the crooning of a young Frank Sinatra.
Struck by the sincerity in Cody’s manner, she realized with a start that these lyrics weren’t simply words to this man but truly a way of life to which he adhered. Tears came to her eyes. What was it about his simple music that worked itself into the secret caverns of her heart?
As Mollie’s face shone with unmitigated love for her father, Danielle found herself unwillingly admiring Cody Walker for having the courage to eke out a way of life for himself and his daughter beneath the wide open skies of Wyoming. Though it couldn’t provide much in the way of a lucrative lifestyle, clearly Cody loved his work. If he were indeed following the seasonal work of “cowboying,” it meant dragging Mollie along with him from place to place. Still, despite the difficulties fate had placed in their way, they seemed a team forged together by love.
Danielle felt a twinge of regret that Lynn would never feel so bonded with her own father. He was too busy chasing the almighty dollar and the shortest skirt in the office. Despite his impressive salary and prestigious title, Scott Herte would always remain a failure in Danielle’s mind because he didn’t know the first thing about being a successful husband and father.
Danielle was surprised how much the girls liked Cody’s brand of music. His country songs were a far cry from the pounding rap she had endured all the way from Denver. Not that she was complaining; this was a nice change, one she hoped might expand to include a more complete attitude adjustment. Despite their cool masks of indifference, these children had been too pampered materially and too neglected in matters of the heart. Something in Cody Walker’s old guitar seemed to work magic upon them all—himself included. With each chord, his edginess seemed to dissipate. The wrinkles at the edges of his eyes grew softer.
When the last strains of his first song died away, Cody expelled a sigh of relief. He had to laugh at himself. There had been no need to worry about being recognized. That no one in the group had any idea that his was a rising star was more than a little humbling. Mama had been right, after all. Maybe that national road tour had inflated his own sense of self-importance. He had been deeply hurt when she said that he had forgotten what was really important in life—family, health, God, and music. Real music from the heart, not all that hyped-up noise with blaring backup bands and smoke and mirrors and the splintering of expensive guitars that his manager insisted his public had come to expect.
It had been his mother’s emphatic “suggestion” that he take Mollie on this wagon train for a couple of weeks to rediscover his values and remember what being a father was really all about. Sitting beneath the soft glow of starlight, he silently thanked his mother for her insistence. He knew it would please her to see him once again strumming his first guitar, the one that she had given him on his sixteenth birthday. Money had been so awfully tight those years, and the gift had been purchased from a pawnshop by the sweat of his widowed mother’s brow. No present had ever meant more to him.
Had Mama ever been wrong about anything? Getting away from the glare of spotlights and returning to his roots was exactly what he needed. Mollie looked happier than he had seen her in ages, and the tension that had become a constant ache in his bones was slowly being coaxed from his body. This assumed anonymity was nice. He’d speak to Mollie and ask her to keep his identity a secret for the remainder of the trip.
Maybe he’d really luck out and somehow be able to exorcise the demon that lately stayed his hand every time he tried to compose a song. Though Cody knew that Arnie Fullerton must be swallowing whole gallons of antacid to soothe his peptic ulcer, he couldn’t bring himself to regret giving his manager the slip. In fact, the thought of his mother’s inevitable calm resistance to Arnie’s frantic pleas to reveal his location brought a smile to his face.
The throbbing in Danielle’s bones seemed to melt away beneath the gentle massaging of Cody’s voice. She noticed it wasn’t a singular effect. The sour expressions that had earlier pinched the girls’ faces were replaced by sweet rapture that momentarily transformed them into little angels.
“The Old West may be gone, but its spirit still survives...”
Cody’s silky voice carried the lyrics into the crystal blue night. A choir of coyotes echoed that spirit of courage and determination in their surrounding harmony. Suddenly chilled by the realization that civilization as she knew it lay far, far away, Danielle pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders as the final notes of the song drifted into the solace of the open prairie.
As the girls unrolled their sleeping bags on the hard ground, Cody doused the remaining embers of the campfire with a bucket of water before tucking his daughter in. Overhearing the fond endearments he whispered in Mollie’s ear before planting a kiss atop her forehead, Danielle felt something inside her wrench uncomfortably. Long ago her own daughter had sworn off such “baby stuff,” and she missed the closeness that seemed such a natural part of Cody’s and Mollie’s relationship.
“Good night, Mom,” came Lynn’s drowsy voice across the field of bedrolls.
“Good night, honey,” Danielle whispered gratefully from her down-filled bag.
Untroubled by the sounds of busy streets, the silence of the night was overpowering to those raised in the city. Never before had Danielle experienced such a sky as the one that enveloped them that night. Without competition from smog or electric lights, the sky glistened like a velvet gown covered with diamonds. Looking into such a sky had a dizzying effect. It was like throwing oneself at the universe and having it rush up to welcome you. Against the brightly illuminated cosmos in that vast Wyoming sky, Danielle was aware of her troubles fading into insignificance.
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