A Cowboy's Love Part 10

"Yes, Ms. French. I'll tell him we'll messenger them to his office first thing tomorrow morning."

Elaine laughed. To Cal and Jamie she said, "That girl is always one step ahead of me."

She led them down a wide, thickly carpeted hall lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves that were filled with fat law books in beige and black bindings. Through a succession of open doors a.s.sociates were visible, young, good-looking, and intense, each one hard at work at their computers or on their phones, their desks covered with bulging files. None of them looked up as Jamie and Cal pa.s.sed. A set of double doors revealed the firm's law library, the walls lined with stacks of books and computer stations, several more banks of books housed on movable tracks, and in the center, two rows of long tables at which more a.s.sociates were working at their laptops. At the end of the hall, a wood-paneled door opened into an enormous office. There were windows on two sides, one pair looking west to the Great Salt Lake-a flat, reflective sliver in the distance-and the others facing the southern end of the valley where, twenty-five miles away at Bluffdale, the ridged promontory called Point of the Mountain reached a brown, treeless paw into the valley. The state prison at Bluffdale was clearly visible through Elaine French's windows.

Elaine pointed to couple of chairs facing her big mahogany desk, inviting Jamie and Cal to get comfortable, and sat down in her big chair behind the desk. She leaned back against the soft leather and gave them one careful, appraising look.

"Okay, Jamie. I know you and Cal drove a long way to see me today, and I'm glad I was able to free up an hour this afternoon. Tell me what brings you here."

So Jamie began her story and Elaine French turned her full attention to the young couple seated a little nervously across from her desk.

Elaine French had no difficulty concentrating on more than one thing at a time, so even as she listened closely to Jamie, interrupting her every now and then to ask a question and to make a note on the long yellow pad in front of her, she was also paying attention to Cal. She saw that his eyes never left Jamie's face. He was sitting way back in the chair, his left foot, in the black, tooled-leather boot stretched forward, his white Stetson perched atop his right knee. She noted that although his posture was relaxed, his attention to Jamie was intense.

Cal is obviously mad about this girl.

At the same time, she evaluated her potential client, this girl that Cal Cameron had totally fallen for, even as she made note of Jamie's account of the divorce, the events of the last two years, and Mandy's disturbing report of activities at Ray's trailer.

She's definitely a bright girl. Nervous, of course; it could be she's never even been outside of that town-Elaine looked down at her notes and found it-that's it, Sharperville. But still, she knows how to think on her feet. Well-prepared, has all the necessary papers with her. Antic.i.p.ates my questions. Gives me intelligent, thoughtful answers. I like her.

And I can see why Cal likes her, too. He's no fool. And what man wouldn't react to her looks. Good shape. Wonderful hair. What I would have given for hair like that when I was her age. And those blue, blue eyes. Vivid, pure blue, like they describe in books, like cornflowers.

Her sharp eye noted Jamie's ragged fingernails.

A little rough around the edges, probably never had a minute's pampering in her whole life. But dress her up right, add a touch of makeup, and with those cheekbones, she'd be a knockout.

But what a load of trouble she's in! Who was her lawyer in this mess?

Elaine glanced down at the papers Jamie had brought her, riffling through them with her fingertips.

Here it is. Almon Reed. Must have been a real jerk. How could he let it get this bad?

I need more information, local stuff. See what's going on with that husband. Sounds like a real bad actor.

She let her dark gray eyes flick over to Cal, sizing up how much he'd be willing to help.

As much as Jamie needs, I'd bet. That boy is solid as a rock, and if I'm any judge, I'd also bet he'd like to give Jamie some of that pampering she's been missing.

But first we have to get her out of this mess. So let's see what we can do for her.

Everyone sat quietly for a moment, while Elaine looked quickly over the notes on the legal pad in front of her. Then, abruptly, she placed her pen onto the yellow pad, making a sharp sound.

"Cal, I'd like to talk to Jamie alone. Would you mind waiting outside?"

He was up on his feet instantly, lifting his hat from where it had been resting on his knee.

"You betcha, ma'am. I'll just go right on down to the front room there, and let you two get to know each other a little better." He crossed the room quickly, the thumping heels of his boots silenced by the thick carpeting. He closed the door as he left, and Elaine brought her full attention back to Jamie.

"He's a doll, isn't he?"

Jamie said nothing, but Elaine noticed the flush that rose to her cheek. Elaine turned to the file on her desk, abruptly all business.

"Okay, Jamie. I'm going to need to review this record carefully before I advise you. But whatever we decide to do, it looks to me like Cal's help is going to be important." She paused thoughtfully, giving careful consideration to what she was about to say. "So there's something I need to know first. Just how does Cal Cameron figure in your life? What is this guy to you?"

With one finger Jamie traced the fine leathery creases in the arm of her chair, suddenly having difficulty looking directly into Elaine's eyes.

"I hardly know him," she said uncertainly. She knew she was being evasive, but it was herself she was evading as much as the probing questions. "I just met him Friday night. Two, three days, it's hardly time enough to know someone well."

"That's bull."

Jamie flinched at Elaine's abrupt response, and felt her hackles rise. Fancy lawyer or not, Elaine French was not going to bully her.

"It's not bull," she said firmly, looking directly into Elaine's eyes. She was not evasive now. "I've known the man only a couple of days. So far, he's been decent and that's real nice. So pin a medal on him! But I don't know why he's putting himself out like this for me, and no one does something for nothing. I've got too much to deal with to take a chance on bringing any more trouble into my life."

She found she was gripping the leather of the chair's arms, and she forced herself to ease up. A small smile softened her mouth. "Cal seems to be a pretty good guy. But I can't tell if he's just another h.o.r.n.y cowboy or if he really means to help me out. Like I said, I've known him only two, three days."

Elaine was not at all put off my Jamie's sharp response. Confrontation was her bread and b.u.t.ter and it pleased her to see a display of backbone. The girl was going to need it to get through this mess.

" Two, three days.'" Elaine repeated Jamie's words. "That's plenty of time." She smiled at Jamie as though they were co-conspirators. "Let me tell you something about Cal."

She put down her pen, folded her arms on the desk top and leaned forward toward Jamie.

"Now, you grew up in ranch country, so you know how these cowboys are. They're a rough bunch. They can be as foul-mouthed as anyone anywhere. On the rodeo circuit, they'll sleep around with anyone who opens her legs. They'll drink and fight and brawl just for the fun of it, and if it comes to shooting-well, a lot of them won't stop at that, either. But they live by a code and it's a serious one. When it comes to a woman in trouble, or a woman they love, there's no messing around. They turn into knights in shining armor, ready to slay dragons." She peered at Jamie, hoping her point was getting across. "These guys are like a modern version of those old stories. They'll ride into any kind of danger for a woman in trouble and they'll defend her all the way if she needs them to.

"As for Cal Cameron, if you ask me, you've got yourself a genuine knight in shining armor. Cal is one h.e.l.l of a good guy. Honest as they come. And I'll tell you something else. He's got a first-rate business head screwed onto those gorgeous shoulders. That's where he's different from a lot of those other rodeo cowboys. The trouble with most rodeo cowboys is they're so d.a.m.ned independent. Every one of them just has to be his own boss. Some of these men could be making big money, like football players and basketball players, if they played their cards right. If they let the right kind of pros help them. But they refuse to let anyone represent them. You can't get these guys to use a lawyer or an agent. They insist on handling all their contract negotiations-endors.e.m.e.nts, promotional appearances, that kind of thing-they handle it all themselves. They always think they know what they're doing. So of course they get screwed.

"But that's where Cal is really different." She leaned across the desk closer to Jamie, making her point with a tap of her fingernail on the desk. "Cal knew enough to do it the right way. He came up here to Salt Lake, all on his own, sat right there, in that chair"-she pointed to the empty chair-"and told me he figured he could use a little professional know-how. Seems there was this cereal company wanted to put his picture on their box of oat flakes, and he came to see me about it. We got him a sweet deal, much better than anything he could have done on his own."

With another tap of her finger for emphasis, Elaine continued.

"I've been handling all that boy's work for a couple of years now. I know how his mind works in the clutch. He's tough and smart and honest. A good combination." She smiled wickedly. "And he's got good legs, too."

Jamie couldn't help returning Elaine's smile, woman-to-woman, agreeing.

"And," Elaine said, "he comes from a good family."

Elaine heard herself and she stopped abruptly.

I sound like a matchmaker. What the h.e.l.l, it's no business of mine! This girl needs legal help, not a maiden aunt! Back off, Frenchy!

"I guess he's been pretty straight with me," Jamie said, cautiously, a little contritely. She wasn't accustomed to women who talked so tough, but still, she was rea.s.sured by Elaine's style; it made her feel this was one woman who could handle anything. "So I have no complaints. So far."

Elaine laughed briefly at the grudging admission.

"Well, that's a beginning." She picked up her pen and got back to work. "And I'm glad to hear it. Because I think we're both going to have to rely on him to help us out with this matter of yours." The red fingernail tapped the manila folder Jamie had brought. "Now, about your custody problem." She made a note on the yellow pad. "I want you to come back tomorrow morning, let's say at ten, and I'll be able to advise you then. I'll have reviewed all these papers you brought and checked out your lawyer. And your ex's lawyer, too." With one lifted eyebrow c.o.c.ked at Jamie, she seemed to ask if that arrangement was satisfactory.

"That'll be fine. Ten o'clock," Jamie agreed, glad she'd cleared a couple of days' absence with Gordon.

Elaine punched a b.u.t.ton on her phone system. "Cynthia, Ms. Sundstrom has an appointment tomorrow at ten. Mark it down."

She stood up and came around the desk. "I'll walk you to the door." As they headed toward the hall, she added, "That'll give me a chance to say goodbye to that cowboy of yours."

"What do you think, Cal? Is she going to be able to help me?"

The sun was blinding as they came through the big gla.s.s-and-bra.s.s doors onto Main Street.

"I've seen that woman work, Jamie. If it can be done, she can do it. We'll find out tomorrow morning. In the meantime, we have an afternoon to kill." He waved an arm, taking in Salt Lake's downtown-a few modern office buildings among the much older ones, all fronting the broad streets and centered around the Mormon temple that raised its white spires into the clear blue sky. The whole scene seemed to have been hung, like a huge picture postcard, right up against a backdrop of spectacular granite mountains. "Let's take a look at what we've been missing, living out in the desert," Cal said.

"But first," Jamie said, "I have to find a place to stay for the night, something not too expensive."

"Hey, we can talk about that later," Cal said. "Right now, let's you and me go look at the fancy stores. They got places here in the big city that'll knock your socks off."

There was music in the air and the chatter and buzz of hundreds of shoppers; escalators climbed up through light-filled s.p.a.ces lined with shops, and all was a confusion of color and action more dizzying than anything Jamie had ever seen before. Babies were being pushed in strollers, older children ran in and out of the crowds, chasing each other, laughing, spilling their popcorn and their ice cream cones, and teenagers cruised the shops and the food stores, trying to look savvy and succeeding in looking bored.

"Isn't that something?"

Cal looked around at the bright spectacle and tipped his hat back, his face beaming as though he had, himself, produced this fantastic show just for Jamie's benefit.

"There's just about everything in the whole world you could want here. Let's just start at one end and work our way all the way through."

Jamie was speechless, dismayed, delighted, all at the same time. There surely was a lot going on in the world beyond the Sharperville valley.

"Wait a minute," she said. She held him back with a hand against Cal's arm as they approached the escalator. "I've never been on one of those things before."

"Nothing to it, Jamie. Just take it slow and easy."

He waited with her while she figured out how the d.a.m.n contraption worked. They both laughed when a little boy, not more than two or three years old, holding his mommy's hand, stepped casually on ahead of her.

"All right, all right," she said. "If that little tyke can do it-"

It took a couple of false starts before she finally got herself safely onto the moving step, clutching awkwardly at the handrail, and when they reached the top and the escalator deposited her relentlessly onto the second floor, she was thrust back against Cal's chest and into his arms as he arrived behind her. Momentarily, they created a human bottleneck as the people behind them almost ran them down. They were both giggling as Cal pulled her to one side to clear some room for the folks behind them and helped her get straight on her feet. Then he waved his arm to take in the whole clamorous display that surrounded them.

"Now, Jamie, let's pretend we're just in from the ranch, making our annual shopping trip into town to stock up, and it's been a great year, beef prices are way up and we've made a fortune. And on top of that, we struck oil on the south forty. So we've got tons of money to spend."

"I could get into that."

Like kids at a carnival, they strolled along the store fronts, enjoying the music that played in the air above them, pretending they were buying this and that-"I'll take one of those and one of those and one of those"-expensive watches and perfumes, elegant fashions and children's toys. Jamie got dizzy imagining that she was gathering up clothes and jewelry and electronic gadgets, loading up the bed of Cal's truck and arriving back in Sharperville with goods enough to fill up an equally imaginary new house for her and Mandy. As if imagining could make it so, she was soon spending that make-believe fortune with as much relish as if it was really hers, a bulky wad of dollars bulging in her pocket.

"This place makes the Kmart up in Spicer's Wells look pretty puny," she said. "I've seen these malls on TV, but it sure feels different when it's all around you. A lot noisier. A whole lot of racket and-"

And then-and then-she was suddenly silent, transfixed in front of one particular window. It was filled with a profusion of the frilliest, prettiest lingerie she had ever seen. There were tiny panties, trimmed in black lace, and pink lace, and white lace. Fragile bras and silky gowns and negligees displayed in luscious extravagance, accented with exquisite perfume bottles and fancy soaps and ribbons and bows and tiny flowers, all suggesting Victorian images of femininity and delicacy.

Cal would have kept going, but he saw Jamie's face and he changed his mind.

"Let's go in," he said, "and see if all that dainty fluff feels as good as it looks."

"Oh, no, I couldn't."

"What do you mean you couldn't'? I don't see any signs saying down-staters aren't allowed."

"It's not that. Really. It's just-" She couldn't think what it was. Too rich, maybe. Too indulgent. Maybe-too intimate. Whatever it was, she was sure it wasn't for her. But Cal had a hand on her arm and, there she was, in the midst of all the satin and silk and ruffles and frivolous frou-frou and charming little wisps of fabric that filled the racks and counters. She was embarra.s.sed to let him know how timid she felt, so she made herself touch the delicate bits of finery, and in only one minute she was running her fingertips over this item and that, delighted by the silver flasks, the flowered picture frames, the fragrant bath oils and gels, the soft fabrics, the filmy gossamer wisps in pale hues.

She wanted it all! The paisley-printed panties, the pale-blue silk pajamas, the long robes of creamy white satin with broad ribbon ties, the matching nightgown with the thinnest straps, cut to the waist at the front. The bras, so pretty, you could almost be seen in public in them.

She was totally seduced. And she was totally unaware of how Cal was watching her, for he recognized her hunger for beautiful things, for all the things she'd never had, and he was indulging a fantasy of his own, a fantasy of giving her everything she'd ever been deprived of, everything she could ever want.

A huge basket on the floor was filled with a pile of peach-colored sachets filled with fragrant potpourri and tied with thin satin ribbons, each decorated with the tiniest of satin roses.

Such a pretty, silly thing, and not expensive. Mandy would love to have one of those.

She picked one from the basket and turned toward Cal. He was standing at a nearby gla.s.s-topped counter. He was holding in his big hand the flimsiest pair of panties she had ever seen.

"How about this?" Cal dangled them from a finger as she came over to him. "Isn't this the prettiest thing?" It was just the barest whisper of dark green and red silk and black lace, and it hung from his hand, saucy, intimate, and seductive.

"Oh, Cal. I couldn't." But she wished she could, and she could see he was eager to give her something pretty. "You mustn't-really-" But Cal had already turned to the salesgirl, across the counter, handed her the panties, and pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet.

"We'll take this, ma'am."

The girl had sized up the cute cowboy. She flashed him a coy smile and disappeared.

"Cal!" Jamie's hand was on his arm, involuntarily. "I can't let you do that."

"It's already done." He smiled warmly at her. "That's the kind of thing you should have lots of. It suits you."

Jamie was blushing and that made him laugh.

"I don't know," she said, feeling wary and confused. "It seems so personal."

"Sure it's personal," he said, making light of her objection. "Don't worry about it," he added casually as he took the small sack from the salesgirl who was back with his purchase and the change from his hundred. He took the sachet out of Jamie's hand and handed it to the salesgirl.

"We'll take that, too."

She gave him another coy smile as she rang it up. Cal counted out the difference from the bills he was holding, handed it over, and dropped the sachet into the bag. He put the sack into Jamie's hand and turned to leave the store with her. But as they stepped outside the store, Jamie stopped him.

"Wait, Cal-" Jamie held back. "Wait! It's just-I shouldn't-" She was stymied. She was trying to figure out what she was trying to say. She loved the little panties. She knew she shouldn't allow Cal to give her such an intimate gift-it was too much-and it was also a kind of challenge. And then, to her own surprise, she decided to plunge ahead.

"Wait outside for me, Cal. I'll be just a minute."

She turned and ran back into the store. She had a moment's conference with the salesgirl who obligingly clipped off the sales tag. Then Jamie ducked quickly into a fitting room. She unzipped her jeans and stepped quickly out of them. She peeled off her plain-white Kmart panties and stuffed them into the little sack. Half-naked in front of the mirror, she removed the little fragment of green and red silk from the bag and, for a long minute, held it up to the mirror, savored its rich color and smooth texture. Then, with a delicious sense of permissible naughtiness, a new sensation and not at all childlike, she stepped into the panties and pulled them slowly up her legs, enjoying the sensuous feel of the silk as it slipped over her bottom, the soft lace lying flat, low across her belly. She stared at herself, turning this way and that, surprised by her pleasure at being the pretty image in the mirror.

Then she stepped back into her jeans and pulled them up to cover the lace and silk, zipped up quickly, and hurried to join Cal.

The escalator took them to a lower level where a courtyard of tables and chairs was served by a variety of restaurants. Over pizza and c.o.kes, Jamie reminded Cal that she needed to find a place to stay overnight.