The Kissing Stars Page 2

  Spirits lifted, Gabe rolled his tongue around his mouth. “Certain to be some bruising. Maybe a broken bone or two.”

  Walker nodded. “A fella has to acknowledge the risk when he agrees to participate. Can’t very well go whining to one’s buddies to arrest somebody for assault when the injuries result from a contest at the fair.”

  Gabe’s lips twitched with a gleeful grin. “Sure would make a man look sissified to raise a complaint.” He handed the list back to the official, hitched up his britches, and strode toward the arena gate saying, “Somebody call for the hog.”

  ONE OF the first lessons Tess learned on the fair trail with Rosie was to provide a specially scented grease for the races. An expert at making aromatic candles and soaps, Amy Baker had been happy to concoct a grease perfumed with the fragrance of, appropriately enough, roses. Will beamed with approval the first time they’d used it, declaring the blend “slicker than snot on a doorknob.”

  A packed house listened to the announcement of each contestant’s name, and the excitement swelled as spectators anticipated watching stodgy politicians and other famous Texans make fools of themselves on behalf of charity. Tess paid the announcer only scant attention, so intent was she upon helping Will smear the rose-scented grease on his pig.

  She had just dipped her hand into the jar for another glob of the slick stuff when the announcer called out an introduction that had her glancing up for a curious look.

  “Representing the Brazos Valley Rail Company, the Hero of Cottonwood Hollow, Mr. Gabriel “Whip” Montana!”

  Whip Montana. Now there was a man to admire. Courageous and daring, he’d risked what the newspapers said was certain death when he offered himself up to Bodine in place of those schoolchildren. Then he’d used his wits to outsmart the outlaw. “I’d like to meet him,” she said softly. She would consider it an honor.

  Her gaze scanned the arena center and halted on the man who waved his hat in answer to the crowd’s salute. Gabriel “Whip” Montana. She’d never known his given name was Gabriel. As always, the name sent a pang through her heart.

  She stepped toward the front of the pen and took a better look. Funny, he even resembled her Gabe a little bit.

  As the announcer went on about the exploits at Cottonwood Hollow, Whip Montana ducked his head and strolled back toward the line of contestants. The sight had Tess clutching the railing, heedless of the fact that she deposited the grease on her hand onto the splintered wood. Her gaze never left the Hero of Cottonwood Creek. Her heartbeat sped up.

  Whip Montana. He resembled her Gabe a whole lot.

  Tess had read of Montana’s exploits in the newspapers. The man had Gabe’s wavy dark hair, even down to the raffish lock that spilled across his forehead. He had Gabe’s height, but a thicker, more muscular build. A mature man’s build.

  She leaned forward, staring hard, willing him to turn her way. She wanted…she needed… to see his face.

  Then he placed his hat on his head, fitting it just so, running his thumb along the edge of the brim, and Tess didn’t need to see his face after all. Only one man had that same quirky habit. She’d watched him don his hat in just that manner hundreds of times.

  The Hero of Cottonwood Hollow? For a time long ago, he’d been her hero. For a time, he’d been her life.

  Not Gabriel “Whip” Montana. This man was Gabe Cameron. Her Gabe.

  Tess closed her eyes and for a moment was transported back in time to a quilt spread across a starlit meadow. The sweet memory didn’t last for long, however, and as thoughts of what had followed threatened to overcome her, she firmly pushed them away. She’d survived it, alive and healthy and for the most part happy. The hard times had made her strong and for that she was grateful.

  Slowly, Tess opened her eyes and gazed out toward the center of the arena. “Oh, my,” she whispered. “Oh, Gabe.”

  He’d matured into a devastating man. A dangerous man.

  Tall and tanned and broad-shouldered, he stalked across the arena with a loose-limbed grace reminiscent of the mountain lions that sometimes visited Aurora Springs. Tess had no difficulty imagining this man taking down Jimmy Wayne Bodine barehanded.

  Her gaze never left him as he paused and spoke to another contestant. Then his lips slashed a smile—her Gabe’s smile—and a little cry of loss escaped her.

  “Tess?” Twinkle asked. “Is there a problem? They’re waiting for Rosie.”

  Tess looked up to see every pair of eyes in the arena turned in her direction. Every pair, including the one slate-colored pair absent from her life for more than a decade.

  Gabe’s stare locked on hers. In a single, heart-wrenching moment she saw the truth.

  He didn’t recognize her.

  The scoundrel didn’t recognize her!

  Tess couldn’t breathe. She heard a roaring noise in her ears that had nothing to do with the sounds the crowd made. Gabe Cameron didn’t know her from Rosie. “What kind of man is he?” she muttered softly.

  What kind of man didn’t recognize his own wife?

  So Tess, being Tess, did the only thing she could do under the circumstances. She opened the gate and hissed to Rosie, “Sic ‘em girl. Sic him.”

  CHAPTER 2

  PRETTY WOMAN, GABE THOUGHT, before glancing down at the pig. He didn’t look long, preferring to devote his attention to Rangers Compton and Whitaker. As the four-legged animal came barreling into the arena, he decided to take the two-legged fools one at a time, starting with Compton. He was the jackass whose brainless decision to remove Jimmy Wayne’s leg chains had set up the opportunity for the outlaw’s escape and those uncalled-for deaths.

  The pig made its initial pass through the crowd of men unscathed, and the crowd roared with laughter as the mayor of Dallas became the first to fall in the dust. Gabe worked his way around behind Compton as a congressman chased the pig back toward the crowd of catchers. The animal streaked forward. Compton shifted. With near perfect timing, Gabe landed a nice, satisfying blow to the Ranger’s kidney.

  Then he started enjoying himself.

  The laughter in the arena drew him into the spirit of the game and lightened his mood, so he didn’t break any bones, settling instead for bruises. Compton was so stupid he never did catch on to the fact that one man alone stood responsible for his tanning. Whitaker proved to be a little sharper, going so far as to cuss at Gabe for his “carelessness” when Gabe laid him flat with a shoulder to his gut.

  “Sorry,” he lied in reply, offering the man a hand to help him to his feet. At that moment, the pig doubled back and headed tight for him, giving Gabe the perfect opportunity to knock Whitaker in a pile of manure he’d eyeballed earlier. Then, to strengthen the credibility of his act, he made an honest effort at grabbing the ham-on-legs, but came away with nothing more than a handful of grease.

  Peculiar grease, he thought, staring down at his hands. Something about it was…

  He lifted his fingers to his nose and sniffed. Roses? Why would anyone go to the bother to slick up a pig with rose-scented grease?

  As if caught in a magnet’s pull, his gaze traveled across the arena to the north gate where the woman he’d noticed earlier leaned against the railing, a splash of white petticoat visible beneath a modest peach-colored cotton dress. Suddenly, an odd sense of familiarity swept over him, and he took a couple of steps toward the fence. He narrowed his eyes and peered at the female, wishing she’d move from the shadows so he could see her better.

  Somebody brushed him from behind as the melee turned in his direction, and he took a staggering blow to the ribs without looking away from the woman.

  What was it about her that compelled him so? He couldn’t see enough of her to tell what she looked like. Perhaps it was the way she stood, or how she tilted her head. Whatever it was, he knew he had to explore the question.

  Gabe pushed past a preacher and a judge who stepped in front of him. When he was halfway to the fence, she backed away from the gate. The movement took her beyond the shadows,
and light illuminated her face.

  Gabe froze mid-step. His heart pounded. His focus narrowed, telescoping down until the only two people left in the arena were him and her. The old him and Tess.

  Tess.

  The breath left his body. Twelve years. Twelve long, lonely years.

  She was all grown up now. Still beautiful, though. More beautiful. With streaks of flame in her golden hair, a field of bluebonnets in her eyes, and…

  His gaze slid past the graceful length of her neck, lingered on the surprising swell of bosom, then traced the narrow expanse of waist and gentle swell of hip displayed by her skirt…heaven in her form.

  “Tess.”

  She heard him. She recognized him. He could see it in her eyes.

  What he didn’t see was the pig which came racing up behind him, barreling into him, knocking him flat on his face. He heard an ugly crunch as his nose slapped the dirt, and he tasted the raw, metallic bite of blood. The force of the blow caused his eyes to water, and pain radiated in waves across his face. Then, just as he braced his hands against the ground to push himself up, something hit his head and his world went black.

  How long he lay unconscious, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that the slobber woke him up. The slobber and the snout. The snort probably had something to do with it, too.

  Gabe’s eyes yanked open to find the damned overgrown pork chop rooting at his ear, the pink snout streaked red with Gabe’s own blood. “Sonofabitch,” he muttered, grimacing, lifting his arms to push the pig away. That’s when he spied the skirt swishing beside the swine’s front feet. The peach colored skirt.

  “Stop it, Rosie. Leave him alone.”

  Gabe pushed up on all fours, then rolled back onto his knees. The movement gave rise to nausea and his mind whirled dizzily. He blinked twice, swayed on his knees, and gazed up at Tess. “Hiya, honey. Your bosom is bigger than I remember.”

  Her voice faded as the darkness reclaimed him. “Never mind, Rosie. Go ahead and bite him.”

  “HIYA HONEY,” Tess drawled mockingly, her arms folded across said bosom and her nose wrinkled in a snit. She watched from the stock pen as Gabe shuffled slowly from the arena, holding a hand to his head as he exchanged what appeared to be sharp words with the two men who had rushed to tend to him the second time he passed out. Tess couldn’t tell what the men were saying, but she hoped they all realized Rosie wasn’t at fault for Gabe’s injury. She may have knocked him down, but one of the men kicked him in the head. “Not that a mere boot could truly damage a head that hard,” she muttered.

  At the edge of the arena, Gabe shook off his escorts and turned around, his gaze obviously searching. Quickly, Tess ducked down and slipped outside through a flap in the canvas. She didn’t want to face him, not yet. She needed a little time to figure out her feelings.

  In the past half hour her emotions had run the gamut from thrill to despair, touching on everything in between. For a dozen years she’d done her best to put Gabe Cameron behind her, and for the most part, she’d succeeded. She lived a fulfilling life with fascinating work and dear friends and far-reaching dreams. She’d learned early on it did no good to dwell on what she had lost. She went months without ever thinking of her father or the Rolling R Ranch. Sometimes she went weeks on end without thinking about Gabe.

  Other times, however, thoughts of her erstwhile husband haunted her. Especially on those particular calendar days that marked an anniversary of one sort or another.

  Tess lifted her face to the heat of the September sun, closed her eyes, and remembered. Oh, how she had loved him. Smart and handsome and witty, Gabe had captured her young girl’s heart shortly after their initial meeting. She had a clear vision of that first day when she walked into his father’s laboratory with her brother, Billy.

  Gabe had been as animated as Professor Cameron when he discussed the advances in astronomical study made possible by the relatively recent invention of the spectroscope. Tess’s fascination with Gabe only grew as his friendship with Billy developed. She also recalled clear as day the first time he looked at her as more than just Billy’s little sister. That’s when he started teaching her the stars. Soon she’d fallen in love with both the night sky and Gabe Cameron.

  Her love of astronomy had survived the trials that followed. And her love for Gabe…well…some things just weren’t meant to be.

  “Here you are.”

  Tess started at the sound of his voice. Then, summoning her courage, she slowly turned around. He was mussed and dusty and devastating, and Tess was thankful her long skirt hid her shaking knees.

  “Sorry for what I said earlier,” Gabe said, gesturing in the general direction of her chest. “That pig knocked my senses loose.” After a moment’s pause, he added, “I’ve been looking for you. Were you hiding from me?”

  Gabe couldn’t have known it, but he’d managed to pick the perfect question to get her back up. “I never hid from Gabe Cameron. Never. But you’re not him, are you?”

  He gave her a long, measuring look, then his lips twisted in a wry smile. “Whip is a nickname I picked up over time.”

  “And Montana? Why change your name, Gabe?”

  “Montana is where I finally sobered up. Cameron is my father’s name. Since I reject the man, I figured I should get rid of the name, too.”

  “Oh.” Tess didn’t know how else to respond, so she kept her mouth shut. That turned out to be a good thing because as the seconds ticked by, all the accusations she’d dreamed of making to his face over the years bubbled up her throat and fought for room on her tongue. If she’d tried to talk, she’d probably have choked to death.

  “How about I buy you a lemonade?”

  “I’m not thirsty.”

  “All right. How about I buy me a lemonade and you walk along? I need to work out some of the kinks that brouhaha put in my muscles.”

  When Tess hesitated, he stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Speaking in a serious tone, he said, “Tess, I’d really like to know what’s going on in your life, but if you still can’t stand to talk to me, well, I reckon I understand. I think about Billy every day.”

  At his words, tears stung the back of her eyes, surprising her. She hadn’t cried about her brother in the longest time. In a moment of clarity, she realized she hurt for Gabe’s obvious pain as much as for her own loss.

  Some things never change.

  “I guess I would like a lemonade, after all,” she said, gesturing toward the concession stand a short walk away. “Although I don’t have much time to spare. I need to see to Rosie before I make my speech.”

  “Rosie? Is she the woman you stood with inside the arena?”

  “No.”

  “A child, then? I saw the youngster with you in the pen. I took her for a boy, though, wearing britches like she was. The light wasn’t all that good inside either, so take it as an understandable mistake, all right?” He hesitated just an instant before adding, “So, how old is your Rosie? When did you remarry?”

  The pain slashed swift and deep. “Remarry?”

  He shrugged. “Judging by the height of your daughter, it didn’t take you long.”

  “My daughter?” Just saying it sent Tess reeling on her feet.

  Alarm tracked across Gabe’s face, and he reached out and took her elbow, steadying her. “Rosie. Isn’t she your daughter?”

  “Rosie is my pig!” Tess stared down at the hand that held her, trembling from the combined effects of the memory of the past and the reality of the present—her first physical contact with the man in twelve long years.

  “Well, I’m lost,” Gabe said, his voice melting to husky. With his free hand he reached up and touched the back of his head. “Maybe this bump scrambled my brains worse than I thought.”

  He smelled of arena dust and bay rum and memories. As Tess fought the urge to lean against him, Twinkle’s voice provided a welcome distraction. “Honey, are you all right? Is this fella bothering you? Should I call for help?”


  Tess summoned her strength and shook off Gabe’s hold, stepping away from him. “I’m fine. This is…” she stumbled over his name, uncertain which to use.

  He solved the question by tipping his hat and saying, “I’m Gabe Montana. Tess and I are old friends. We thought we’d have a glass of lemonade and catch up with each other.”

  “That’s right, Twinkle,” Tess added, staring hard at her friend. “Gabe and I used to be very close.”

  Twinkle’s eyes widened slightly, then abruptly narrowed. Everyone at Aurora Springs knew about Gabe Cameron. Obviously, Twinkle had made the connection between him and Gabe “Whip” Montana. After giving him a cool nod, she addressed Tess. “I’ll see to Will and make sure he gets Rosie ready for tonight. Don’t worry about him interrupting.”

  Tess sent her a grateful smile. “Thank you, Twinkle. And don’t worry. I’ll be fine, and this short delay won’t change our plans at all.”

  The women exchanged a significant look, then Twinkle ducked inside the canvas tent. Gabe frowned after her. “Sounds to me like you got the names switched. Twinkle is your friend and Rosie is your Pig?”

  “Yes. You met Rosie earlier.”

  He folded his arms and shook his head slowly. “So that slobbering swine really does belong to you?”

  “She’s family, Gabe. Please don’t be insulting.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but apparently reconsidered, and slapped it shut. It was a good decision. Tess had about reached the end of her emotional rope, and another pithy comment from him might well send her screaming into waters best left unexplored for the time being.

  At the concession, he purchased two lemonades, then nodded toward a tree-shaded table and chairs. “Shall we sit or would you prefer to walk?”

  “I’d rather sit.” It was safer that way. This encounter with her husband made her weak in the knees.

  They sipped their drinks in silence for a time, Tess waiting for him to speak first. She’d never felt so tongue-tied around this man before, even when she was a nervous young girl suffering her first—and what turned out to be only—romantic crush. She excused her shortcoming. Gabe had not been nearly this intimidating twelve years ago. Not so big, so muscular, so overwhelmingly masculine. Plus back then, they hadn’t had tragedy hanging between them like a black cloud.