Dream's End by Diana Palmer

reminded him, “were wrinkled and tough as leather and could outshoot, outdrink, and outcuss their menfolk. And besides, they got married when they were barely thirteen and had twelve kids.”
    â€œWould you like to have twelve kids?” he asked.
    She looked down at him, her eyes involuntarily tracing his angular face and firm, chiseled mouth, the curve of his dark brows, the thick hair that made tinywaves at the nape of his neck. A man like Curry would have sons as tall and tough as he was, as handsome as himself.
    â€œGreen and gray,” he murmured thoughtfully as he searched her eyes. “What color would their eyes be?”
    â€œGray,” she said softly, as if she knew.
    He jerked his eyes away suddenly. “Let’s go.”
    She blushed to her heels as she realized what he’d been saying, what she’d replied…She watched him swing into the saddle, but whirled her mount before she had to look him in the eye.
    They went back to the ranch house long enough to eat the thick ham sandwiches Bessie had waiting, but the silence at the table was unusual to say the least. Bessie kept glancing from one of them to the other, trying to puzzle out what was wrong.
    It was almost a relief to get back to the turmoil of roundup, Eleanor thought asthey made their way once again to the holding pens on fresh mounts.
    The strain between Curry and Eleanor was almost tangible. Even the busy ranch hands seemed to sense it. There was an ominous feel about the afternoon as calf after cow after steer was run through the gate into the branding corral. It all went smoothly until one big, enraged Hereford bull managed to escape the men and tear his way into the branding corral without being snared.
    Bill Bridges, one of the more experienced cowboys moved quickly to throw a rope on the bull, but he reckoned without the animal’s frightening speed. In seconds, the rope was torn from Bridges’ hand and the bull was charging at him furiously.
    After that, everything seemed to happen at once. Bridges suddenly went down with the bull snorting and hooking its horns at him as he rolled frantically trying to dodge the thrusts.
    Curry went over the rail like a track star, a gunny sack held in one lean hand, and started to distract the bull.
    â€œGet him out of here!” he yelled to two of his men, who promptly jumped into the corral and dragged the white-faced cowboy out.
    Curry flicked the sack at the bull, and turned to leap back over the ring, but a quick jerk of the snorting animal’s head caught him in the side. Eleanor saw him grimace tightly with pain, and he went down like a crumpled bag.
    Terrified, without even thinking, Eleanor slipped between the rails and ran to him, picking up the gunny sacks as she did.
    â€œYou stupid beast!” she raged at the bull, whapping it across the rump with all her strength with the sack, taking out the terror and fury she felt on it.
    Distracted, the bull turned away from Curry, tossing his big head, his red and white coat wiggling with the motion ashis big eyes stared at the pale young woman.
    Meanwhile, the other hands dived into the corral and got to Curry, ignoring his feverish curses as he ordered them to “get that damned woman out of the corral!”
    Jed Docious settled the problem by slinging a hard, wiry arm around Eleanor’s slender middle and half carrying, half dragging her to safety while the others danced around to keep the bull from charging. Two other cowboys dragged Curry to safety.
    Once outside the ring, Eleanor made a beeline to Curry, who was stretched out on the ground with blood oozing from the wound in his side as one of the men worked to stem the bleeding by applying pressure with a clean handkerchief.
    â€œAre you all right?” she asked him breathlessly. She dropped to her knees pushing at a strand of gritty, damp hair as she looked down into blazing silver eyes in a face gone white under its tan.
    â€œYou