Mountain Man by Diana Palmer

without protest.
    When they got to Sadie’s house, Mrs. Todd was asleep, and Mary was watching a gory horror film on television. It was just ending and Mary sat with a big bowl of popcorn on her ample lap, refusing to budge until the last drop of blood was spilled.
    “Good movie,” she enthused, walking out with Nicole while Sadie and Gerald said a lingering good-night indoors. “You like horror films?” she asked.
    “I like vampire movies,” Nicole said. “But I like science fiction better.”
    “You and Winthrop.” She shook her head. “Those films are noisy. Too noisy. I like quiet movies.”
    “With screaming and lots of victims,” Nicole chided.
    Mary stared at her, stone-faced. “Beats all those noisy machines.”
    Nicole laughed delightfully. “I guess so. How did Mrs. Todd do tonight?”
    “Done fine. We had pudding. I like pudding.”
    “So do I,” Nicole said, smiling. “It was a good party. Winthrop and I started the dancing.”
    Mary’s eyes widened. “Winthrop was dancing?”
    “Yes. He does it very well.”
    “He used to,” Mary agreed. “But I have not seen him dance since the accident. How did you manage it?”
    Nicole chewed her lip a little and peeked at Mary. “I stood in front of him on the dance floor and wouldn’t move.”
    Mary laughed. She did it seldom, but when she did, it was wholeheartedly. “Good medicine,” she told the younger woman. “We should bottle you.”
    “I’d most likely ferment and become illegal. There’s Gerald.”
    He joined them, looking a bit hot under the collar and flustered. He grinned. “Ready to go?”
    “Been ready quite some time,” Mary said. “Long past my bedtime.”
    “There, there, too much sleep can kill a good woman,” Gerald said soothingly. “Think of how I’m saving you from certain death.”
    “Saving me from much needed rest,” Mary countered, climbing into the pickup between him and Nicole. “Winthrop danced, she tell you?”
    “She didn’t have to. I saw it with my own eyes,” he volunteered, grinning past her at Nicole. “Iwish I could have taken a picture. Nobody will believe it.”
    “Isn’t it cloudy tonight?” Nicole was trying to change the subject, but it really did look cloudy, and it was getting colder.
    “Snow clouds,” Mary said. “We get buried in snow pretty soon.”
    “Not in November,” Nicole said.
    “This is Montana. Snow comes early and late—you can’t predict mountain weather. And snow in November is pretty routine,” her boss informed her. “Lord, I hope we don’t get shut up with that horsey set from back East. They’ll be here tomorrow.” He glanced at Nicole. “By the way, one of Winthrop’s guests is from Kentucky, an expert on thoroughbreds. Winthrop wants him to take a look at the colt and give him an opinion. He wouldn’t be able to race it for a couple of years, of course, but he’s thinking along those lines.”
    Nicole knew a number of people in the horsey set. She was afraid of meeting someone from her old life, someone who knew her father, who might tell him where she was and what she was doing now. She didn’t want him to know anything about her new life. There were deep scars from those young years. She wanted nothing to do with the man who’d driven her mother into a succession of lovers, followed by a fatal accident. Nothing at all.
    “Did he tell you the man’s name?” Nicole asked quietly.
    Gerald glanced at her. “As a matter of fact he did,” he replied. He grinned ruefully. “But I was on the phone at the time and I didn’t catch it. There’s a Murdock woman, and a couple of brothers named Harris. But I don’t think the Harrises know much about horses.”
    Nicole consoled herself with the thought that there must be hundreds of horsey sportsmen in the world besides her father. She only nodded, closing her eyes as they went back to the Christopher ranch.
    The house was quiet when they got there. If Nicole had hoped to see Winthrop again, she