Never Kiss a Cowgirl, page 6
“Really?”
“Sure, but you have to promise to enjoy yourself in Vegas, and don’t forget to be happy.” She was willing to try but really didn’t want Jacqueline to settle. No one, especially her, wanted to be a consolation prize because another person was tired of searching for the one who’d fit better than anyone else.
“Are you ordering me to play the field?” There was a tinge of incredulity in Jacqueline’s tone.
“I’m asking you to be sure. We’ve known each other long enough that you have to know I care about you. I care enough to let you be happy if there’s someone else who’s a better fit and already has more than one nice suit.” They’d had too many conversations about how they wouldn’t commit, shouldn’t really, to change trajectory so fast. “You’ve always told me about who you thought you’d end up with.”
“Give me a break, cowpoke. I’ve seen you on ESPN, and the Discovery Channel did a piece on all these exotic cows you have. I’ve also taken you shopping, so I know exactly how many nice suits you have. You even agreed to the pink flamingo bow tie, which I think sucker punched the woman you refuse to talk about right where it hits me whenever I look at you. I’ll give you a hint and tell you it’s not in the gut.”
“If the bulls ever saw me in that pink flamingo bow tie, I’ll lose all credibility. As for the girl—she’s Wade’s niece, and we grew up together. She made a bunch of promises she wasn’t going to keep, and I was the chump who hung on way past the expiration date.” She stopped when Jacqueline ran her tongue up her neck until she bit her earlobe. “She moved back four months ago and thinks no one knows that, which means she really doesn’t want to be here. Once Uncle Wade figures that one out, it’ll end up hurting him that much more.”
“How about you, honey?” Jacqueline tightened her hold on her and rubbed her stomach as she spoke. “How much is it hurting you?”
“My father told me once that there’s things you can’t control, change, or wish away. The sooner I learned that, he said, the easier life would be. All I had to remember was that it wasn’t my fault—well, maybe sometimes it would be, but those big painful things that happen to you were best put behind me.” Her dad had gone way too soon, but she loved all the memories of riding with him, shoeing horses, feeding animals, and just talking on the back porch after a long day.
“And is she one of those hurtful things you couldn’t control, change, or wish away?” Jacqueline bit her chin softly as if to soften the question.
“Nope.” She ran her hand down Jacqueline’s back to the slope of her butt. “This time I went in fully knowing the consequences. Reagan loved her dad, me, and this place. What she didn’t love was bull riding, the rodeo, and the truth of the fact that Uncle Silas and I did. She wanted us both off the circuit.”
“Threw down a gauntlet, did she?”
That made her laugh. “She did, but I thought love would win out. I wrote and called for two years like some kind of fucking lovesick fool, but she expanded her horizons when she left for school.” That last meeting with Reagan when she’d come home, and the short letters, like she had no time for her any longer, were like a slap to the face.
“Like I said, her loss. Does she have any idea of what you’ve accomplished?” Jacqueline sat up, seeming truly insulted on her behalf. “You’re almost the best at what you do in the arena, you run a highly successful ranch, and you graduated top of your class from Tulane. You’re no bumpkin, Asher, and you wouldn’t be even without all those accolades. I love you for you, not all this. I may not be the greatest at commitment, but I do love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.” She said it and meant it, even if right at that moment she knew it was more about friendship than romance.
“I’m sorry, but that makes me mad. Whoever gets to be with you should first and foremost understand what a catch you are.” Jacqueline took her hand and shook it. “That you’re not with me because of my money is what makes it so easy to be with you.”
“I’m with you because you’re beautiful and understand the importance of a good steak.”
“Shut up”—Jacqueline pinched her and laughed—“I want you to understand how important to me you are, so I’m not going to be actively looking for anyone else no matter how long we’re apart.”
“Neither will I, but if I fall in love with my horse, I’ll be sure to send you a wedding invitation.”
“If that happens, I demand to be the flower girl.”
“That’s a deal, but Albert isn’t as good a kisser as you, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Albert wasn’t a common horse name, but the horse was highly intelligent and she’d trained him herself, so Albert Einstein Evans seemed like a good choice. She stood with Jacqueline and carried her inside. “All I’ll be doing the next couple of months is training, for the next few events before Vegas.”
“You don’t sound like you’re all in if you’re asking me to date while I’m away from you.” Jacqueline hung on as Asher headed for the bathroom.
“I meant what I said. Your happiness is important to me. Let’s table that talk for now and take a shower. I texted and asked the guys to bring a couple horses out here. We’ll go riding, and I can show you all the new stuff going on. The new cattle should be getting comfortable in their new home and on the way to making friends. The Pinzgauer isn’t like the other cows you’ve seen around here.”
After coffee they rode along the fence line. That would take them by not only the beef cows but the dairy herd as well. The markets the Blanchards had planned would be a good place not only for her beef, but also for their dairy products once they started production. Jacqueline enjoyed the tour and talked her into a race in the open empty pasture. To make it sporting, Asher held back and laughed when Jacqueline stuck her tongue out at her.
“No fair, you let me win,” Jacqueline accused.
“I was being chivalrous.”
“The name of the ranch is all the proof I need when it comes to chivalry, baby.”
They slowed and Jacqueline held her hand out. She took it and leaned over to kiss her knuckles. Yes, this was someone she could come to love passionately. Jacqueline was fun, sexy, and driven. Having someone like that would make every day something new, and Asher was ready for all that and more. Way ready.
Chapter Five
Reagan’s bedroom needed some light filtering blinds or curtains since she was awake way too early again. It was time to get dressed and make the drive to see Uncle Wade even if she’d rather shop for new window treatments and perhaps schedule a root canal. Facing the music wasn’t one of her favorite things, but the overwhelming urge to go home had come after seeing Asher. That wasn’t something she was willing to unpack at the moment. Denial, though, was something that got easier the more she did it.
She threw on jeans and a sweater and drove to the coffee shop she loved on Magazine Street. The latte and scone kept her company as she made the trek to the east. Once the fishing camps started to thin, the familiar pastures started, and the grass her dad and Uncle Dustin planted years before came into view, instantly relaxing her.
Everything about both ranches had been planned to assure success. Grass was sometimes just something green to brighten people’s yards, but it wasn’t when it came to grazing cattle. Rye grass wasn’t popular in Louisiana, but Uncle Dustin had kept at it until all the acres they owned were covered with the energy-packed grazing grass. It was beautiful when the seed heads were blowing in the breeze. Memories of Asher tickling her with the stalks made her smile as she slowed.
She stopped and pulled over to watch two riders racing along. It wasn’t hard to recognize Asher from the way she sat in the saddle, but she hadn’t seen that carefree expression in a long while. Asher was laughing, and when she stopped and kissed the hand of the woman riding with her, it gripped something inside Reagan, and it left her hurting.
“You’re the one who threw her away. Don’t get sentimental now.” She drove off, wondering who Asher had taken on an early morning ride. The woman had to be either understanding or stupid to put up with Asher’s irresponsible side because that’s what bull riding was—irresponsible.
She pulled in behind the big truck with the large Moon Touch Ranch decal on the back window and knocked. Frida studied her with that disarming mom stare for an eternity when she opened the door. While everyone knew Wade ran the ranch, the house was Frida’s domain, and it was an unwritten rule that you didn’t mess with her. When Reagan had gone and stayed away, Frida had not held back when she told her what a mistake she was making. It had been one of their bigger blowups when she hadn’t backed down, so sure that she was in the right.
“Since when do you knock in your own home?” Frida, despite the question, stood blocking the door.
“It’s been a while, and I didn’t want to be presumptuous.” She stepped forward and hugged the only mother figure she’d ever known, overcome with a sense of shame. How many people had she hurt by running?
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Frida said, holding her. She still smelled the same, which made Reagan cry harder. The scent of lavender from Frida’s perfume and of cinnamon from the baking she did every weekend were the definitions of permanence, a sign there was a place where she belonged.
“I’m sorry.” She leaned away and wiped her face. Big emotional displays weren’t her norm.
“You haven’t changed a bit, which means you’re still making yourself miserable.” There was tough love, and then there was a mallet to the head kind of love. Frida swung her mallet with pinpoint precision.
“Let’s not fight right away. Is Uncle Wade around?”
Frida finally let her in, and Reagan followed her to the kitchen. “He left an hour ago to open the west pastures and move some of the steers there to graze. I say that, but he mostly sits on the horse looking pretty and supervises now.” The sticky buns Frida took out of the oven smelled delicious, but instead of offering her one, she placed them in a box and opened the back door. It had been a few years, but Reagan recognized Rickie, Frida’s daughter. She was all grown-up and beautiful.
“Hey, Miss Reagan.” Rickie still had a wide smile. “Good to see you. Talk to you later.”
Rickie left with the box as if talking to her any more than that would somehow taint her. The speed, though, might’ve had something to do with the box and what it contained. Rickie, she was sure, was meeting Asher.
“Is she headed for the old cabin?” The small structure had been the only thing standing on the property when her father bought it, and Asher had fixed it up a million years ago as a way of giving them some privacy. In Asher’s letters, when she still got them, she’d mentioned moving out there.
“That shack burned down three years ago. No, Asher went home. It took some hard work, but she got it fixed up. That old house hasn’t been lived in since Dustin, but it’s been waiting for her.” Frida took another pan from the oven and served her a pastry with a cup of coffee.
“What do you mean?” The damn sticky bun was delicious, and she closed her eyes at the first bite. These could seriously be her last meal.
“Just that she got started on what was hers. I hate that I don’t see her as often, but Rickie left with her, saying she needed to be taken care of.” Frida fell silent after that as if she’d already said too much. “Finish that, and I’ll have one of the hands saddle a horse for you. Booker isn’t ridden too often, so it’ll be good for both of you.”
“That’ll be nice. Is Asher out there helping Uncle Wade?” The only thing more childish would be to pass Frida a note. “I don’t want to get in their way.”
“Don’t worry about Asher.” Frida phoned and ordered her horse for her before picking up her dishes. “Get going and tell the old man to be careful.”
The gray mare one of the hands led toward the porch was as beautiful as the day her father had gifted her to Reagan. Booker had been better than a car, and she’d spent most of her afternoons riding with Asher. She walked down and ran her hand down Booker’s nose.
“Hey, girl.” She put her arms around the thick neck and fought the urge to cry. “I missed you.”
“Do you need a hand up, Miss Reagan?” the ranch hand asked.
“Let’s see if I still remember how.” She put her foot in the stirrup and took a minute to find her balance in the saddle. When she did, she spurred Booker into a run with a flick of the reins and headed toward the pasture Frida mentioned.
It was like waking up after sleeping a lifetime and finding she missed all the joy in the world—the wind in her hair, the green that rolled for miles that made the sky that much bluer, and the familiar clomp of Booker’s hooves hitting the ground. Her memories were safe on this land because they were forever tied to it.
She slowed at the family cemetery her father had built a few miles from the house. There hadn’t been a plan for one, but he’d wanted Dustin close for Asher’s sake. It was a place she could ride to and visit when she had a need to. There was no way for her to know what Asher’s thoughts were now, but when she was younger, she did come and talk to her father often.
She dismounted and opened the wrought iron gate. There was a bench in front of the only three graves in the whole plot. Dustin Evans and Silas Wilson had been best friends from the age of three, so it made sense for them to spend eternity side by side so they could share stories for as long as the sun rose. Alongside them, Maya Evans was also buried there—her dad had reinterred her after Dustin’s death. Reagan placed her hand on each tomb over their names and glanced up.
“Hey, Daddy and Uncle Dustin. Sorry it’s been so long, but as you both would’ve said, I had my head up my ass.” The day was starting to become uncomfortably warm, but the marble was cool to the touch. “I need you both to watch out for me. I’m home to stay, but it’s hard coming back here, knowing I’ll never see you again, Daddy.”
The bench was in the shade of the large oak tree, and she enjoyed the quiet of this place. It was so peaceful—she could see why her father had chosen it. A grove of ancient oaks were the perfect sentinels to watch over her family. There was only bone and ash to guard now, but no matter. They were still precious to her.
“Put in a good word for me.”
She headed out and smiled when she saw Uncle Wade herding cows toward a gated pasture. He appeared to be an excited small boy, which made her happy, considering how long he’d been doing the same job. The ranch hands with him shouted to get the stragglers back in line, and one of them pointed in her direction.
Wade turned his horse and moved to the end of the line and waved her on toward the river. It’d been a long time since her last ride, but he obviously still remembered her love of horses and the places she liked to ride. They took the long circuit back to the house but stopped at the levee. The river was high, and the current made hundreds of small whirlpools as if in a hurry to get to the Gulf.
“It’s good to have you home.” It’s all he said, and it was like spending time with her father again. They both had infinite patience when it came to waiting her out.
“It’s interesting to be back.” It was still too early to decide if it was a good move on her part. She’d been unhappy in Seattle, but would she be more miserable here?
“You’ve always had a home here, but only if you want one.” Wade tipped his hat back and sighed. “It’s not a total surprise you’re back, but I’ve been curious as to when you’d come home and why.”
“You shouldn’t be alone anymore,” she said before he could utter anything else. That’d been her reasoning, and she’d repeated it in her head until she believed it.
“Your father and I raised you to be independent and strong. Don’t waste your time on an old man set in his ways.” He laughed in a way that shook his belly, identical to her father’s laugh. “I was hoping you’d come home eventually because you’d become interested in ranching. That’s not going to happen, is it?”
“You have Asher, Uncle Wade. She knows this land better than anyone, and she’d fall on her sword before she let you down.” Except on days when Asher was riding around with a beautiful woman—then she forgot about the cows. And that was the last thing Reagan should be thinking about.
“Asher isn’t in charge here, and she doesn’t own the land—we do. Eventually you’re going to have to make some decisions about how we go forward.” He straightened his hat and tapped his fist on the horn of his saddle. “Doesn’t have to be anytime soon, so don’t think there’s a rush. I would, though, like for you to come and have a meal every so often.”
“I just got here, and with the move and work…” There was only so much lying she could do, especially when she could see he didn’t believe her.
“If that’s how it is.” He stopped and glanced at the river as if fishing for the right thing to say. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your job, and it’s good that you’re busy.”
“Uncle Wade…”
He waved his hand. “You’ve made something of yourself, sweet pea, so you don’t owe anyone any explanations, least of all me. Just as long as you’re happy.” He handed her the gift of not having to come up with any more stories, and she loved him for it.
They rode back in silence, and Frida had lunch ready. “Thanks, Frida.” The fried chicken and carrot soufflé were some of her favorites, but she’d lost her appetite on the levee. Frida’s intense stare was a pointed dare to her not to eat, so she found a way to bring her interest in food out of hibernation.
The phone rang, and her uncle got up, waving Frida to stay put. “Moon Touch Ranch.”
Whoever was on the other end talked for a few minutes straight. All her uncle did was say yes a few times before he came back to the table. The call seemed to get his good mood back, so she didn’t need three guesses as to who it was.
When he and her father gave their word to Dustin to watch over Asher, they’d truly meant it. Hell, it had been Asher who’d been with her father when he died. Reagan had gone to the hotel from the hospital to take a shower, and that’s when he picked to go, with only Asher at his side, probably what he’d wanted.
“Sure, but you have to promise to enjoy yourself in Vegas, and don’t forget to be happy.” She was willing to try but really didn’t want Jacqueline to settle. No one, especially her, wanted to be a consolation prize because another person was tired of searching for the one who’d fit better than anyone else.
“Are you ordering me to play the field?” There was a tinge of incredulity in Jacqueline’s tone.
“I’m asking you to be sure. We’ve known each other long enough that you have to know I care about you. I care enough to let you be happy if there’s someone else who’s a better fit and already has more than one nice suit.” They’d had too many conversations about how they wouldn’t commit, shouldn’t really, to change trajectory so fast. “You’ve always told me about who you thought you’d end up with.”
“Give me a break, cowpoke. I’ve seen you on ESPN, and the Discovery Channel did a piece on all these exotic cows you have. I’ve also taken you shopping, so I know exactly how many nice suits you have. You even agreed to the pink flamingo bow tie, which I think sucker punched the woman you refuse to talk about right where it hits me whenever I look at you. I’ll give you a hint and tell you it’s not in the gut.”
“If the bulls ever saw me in that pink flamingo bow tie, I’ll lose all credibility. As for the girl—she’s Wade’s niece, and we grew up together. She made a bunch of promises she wasn’t going to keep, and I was the chump who hung on way past the expiration date.” She stopped when Jacqueline ran her tongue up her neck until she bit her earlobe. “She moved back four months ago and thinks no one knows that, which means she really doesn’t want to be here. Once Uncle Wade figures that one out, it’ll end up hurting him that much more.”
“How about you, honey?” Jacqueline tightened her hold on her and rubbed her stomach as she spoke. “How much is it hurting you?”
“My father told me once that there’s things you can’t control, change, or wish away. The sooner I learned that, he said, the easier life would be. All I had to remember was that it wasn’t my fault—well, maybe sometimes it would be, but those big painful things that happen to you were best put behind me.” Her dad had gone way too soon, but she loved all the memories of riding with him, shoeing horses, feeding animals, and just talking on the back porch after a long day.
“And is she one of those hurtful things you couldn’t control, change, or wish away?” Jacqueline bit her chin softly as if to soften the question.
“Nope.” She ran her hand down Jacqueline’s back to the slope of her butt. “This time I went in fully knowing the consequences. Reagan loved her dad, me, and this place. What she didn’t love was bull riding, the rodeo, and the truth of the fact that Uncle Silas and I did. She wanted us both off the circuit.”
“Threw down a gauntlet, did she?”
That made her laugh. “She did, but I thought love would win out. I wrote and called for two years like some kind of fucking lovesick fool, but she expanded her horizons when she left for school.” That last meeting with Reagan when she’d come home, and the short letters, like she had no time for her any longer, were like a slap to the face.
“Like I said, her loss. Does she have any idea of what you’ve accomplished?” Jacqueline sat up, seeming truly insulted on her behalf. “You’re almost the best at what you do in the arena, you run a highly successful ranch, and you graduated top of your class from Tulane. You’re no bumpkin, Asher, and you wouldn’t be even without all those accolades. I love you for you, not all this. I may not be the greatest at commitment, but I do love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.” She said it and meant it, even if right at that moment she knew it was more about friendship than romance.
“I’m sorry, but that makes me mad. Whoever gets to be with you should first and foremost understand what a catch you are.” Jacqueline took her hand and shook it. “That you’re not with me because of my money is what makes it so easy to be with you.”
“I’m with you because you’re beautiful and understand the importance of a good steak.”
“Shut up”—Jacqueline pinched her and laughed—“I want you to understand how important to me you are, so I’m not going to be actively looking for anyone else no matter how long we’re apart.”
“Neither will I, but if I fall in love with my horse, I’ll be sure to send you a wedding invitation.”
“If that happens, I demand to be the flower girl.”
“That’s a deal, but Albert isn’t as good a kisser as you, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Albert wasn’t a common horse name, but the horse was highly intelligent and she’d trained him herself, so Albert Einstein Evans seemed like a good choice. She stood with Jacqueline and carried her inside. “All I’ll be doing the next couple of months is training, for the next few events before Vegas.”
“You don’t sound like you’re all in if you’re asking me to date while I’m away from you.” Jacqueline hung on as Asher headed for the bathroom.
“I meant what I said. Your happiness is important to me. Let’s table that talk for now and take a shower. I texted and asked the guys to bring a couple horses out here. We’ll go riding, and I can show you all the new stuff going on. The new cattle should be getting comfortable in their new home and on the way to making friends. The Pinzgauer isn’t like the other cows you’ve seen around here.”
After coffee they rode along the fence line. That would take them by not only the beef cows but the dairy herd as well. The markets the Blanchards had planned would be a good place not only for her beef, but also for their dairy products once they started production. Jacqueline enjoyed the tour and talked her into a race in the open empty pasture. To make it sporting, Asher held back and laughed when Jacqueline stuck her tongue out at her.
“No fair, you let me win,” Jacqueline accused.
“I was being chivalrous.”
“The name of the ranch is all the proof I need when it comes to chivalry, baby.”
They slowed and Jacqueline held her hand out. She took it and leaned over to kiss her knuckles. Yes, this was someone she could come to love passionately. Jacqueline was fun, sexy, and driven. Having someone like that would make every day something new, and Asher was ready for all that and more. Way ready.
Chapter Five
Reagan’s bedroom needed some light filtering blinds or curtains since she was awake way too early again. It was time to get dressed and make the drive to see Uncle Wade even if she’d rather shop for new window treatments and perhaps schedule a root canal. Facing the music wasn’t one of her favorite things, but the overwhelming urge to go home had come after seeing Asher. That wasn’t something she was willing to unpack at the moment. Denial, though, was something that got easier the more she did it.
She threw on jeans and a sweater and drove to the coffee shop she loved on Magazine Street. The latte and scone kept her company as she made the trek to the east. Once the fishing camps started to thin, the familiar pastures started, and the grass her dad and Uncle Dustin planted years before came into view, instantly relaxing her.
Everything about both ranches had been planned to assure success. Grass was sometimes just something green to brighten people’s yards, but it wasn’t when it came to grazing cattle. Rye grass wasn’t popular in Louisiana, but Uncle Dustin had kept at it until all the acres they owned were covered with the energy-packed grazing grass. It was beautiful when the seed heads were blowing in the breeze. Memories of Asher tickling her with the stalks made her smile as she slowed.
She stopped and pulled over to watch two riders racing along. It wasn’t hard to recognize Asher from the way she sat in the saddle, but she hadn’t seen that carefree expression in a long while. Asher was laughing, and when she stopped and kissed the hand of the woman riding with her, it gripped something inside Reagan, and it left her hurting.
“You’re the one who threw her away. Don’t get sentimental now.” She drove off, wondering who Asher had taken on an early morning ride. The woman had to be either understanding or stupid to put up with Asher’s irresponsible side because that’s what bull riding was—irresponsible.
She pulled in behind the big truck with the large Moon Touch Ranch decal on the back window and knocked. Frida studied her with that disarming mom stare for an eternity when she opened the door. While everyone knew Wade ran the ranch, the house was Frida’s domain, and it was an unwritten rule that you didn’t mess with her. When Reagan had gone and stayed away, Frida had not held back when she told her what a mistake she was making. It had been one of their bigger blowups when she hadn’t backed down, so sure that she was in the right.
“Since when do you knock in your own home?” Frida, despite the question, stood blocking the door.
“It’s been a while, and I didn’t want to be presumptuous.” She stepped forward and hugged the only mother figure she’d ever known, overcome with a sense of shame. How many people had she hurt by running?
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Frida said, holding her. She still smelled the same, which made Reagan cry harder. The scent of lavender from Frida’s perfume and of cinnamon from the baking she did every weekend were the definitions of permanence, a sign there was a place where she belonged.
“I’m sorry.” She leaned away and wiped her face. Big emotional displays weren’t her norm.
“You haven’t changed a bit, which means you’re still making yourself miserable.” There was tough love, and then there was a mallet to the head kind of love. Frida swung her mallet with pinpoint precision.
“Let’s not fight right away. Is Uncle Wade around?”
Frida finally let her in, and Reagan followed her to the kitchen. “He left an hour ago to open the west pastures and move some of the steers there to graze. I say that, but he mostly sits on the horse looking pretty and supervises now.” The sticky buns Frida took out of the oven smelled delicious, but instead of offering her one, she placed them in a box and opened the back door. It had been a few years, but Reagan recognized Rickie, Frida’s daughter. She was all grown-up and beautiful.
“Hey, Miss Reagan.” Rickie still had a wide smile. “Good to see you. Talk to you later.”
Rickie left with the box as if talking to her any more than that would somehow taint her. The speed, though, might’ve had something to do with the box and what it contained. Rickie, she was sure, was meeting Asher.
“Is she headed for the old cabin?” The small structure had been the only thing standing on the property when her father bought it, and Asher had fixed it up a million years ago as a way of giving them some privacy. In Asher’s letters, when she still got them, she’d mentioned moving out there.
“That shack burned down three years ago. No, Asher went home. It took some hard work, but she got it fixed up. That old house hasn’t been lived in since Dustin, but it’s been waiting for her.” Frida took another pan from the oven and served her a pastry with a cup of coffee.
“What do you mean?” The damn sticky bun was delicious, and she closed her eyes at the first bite. These could seriously be her last meal.
“Just that she got started on what was hers. I hate that I don’t see her as often, but Rickie left with her, saying she needed to be taken care of.” Frida fell silent after that as if she’d already said too much. “Finish that, and I’ll have one of the hands saddle a horse for you. Booker isn’t ridden too often, so it’ll be good for both of you.”
“That’ll be nice. Is Asher out there helping Uncle Wade?” The only thing more childish would be to pass Frida a note. “I don’t want to get in their way.”
“Don’t worry about Asher.” Frida phoned and ordered her horse for her before picking up her dishes. “Get going and tell the old man to be careful.”
The gray mare one of the hands led toward the porch was as beautiful as the day her father had gifted her to Reagan. Booker had been better than a car, and she’d spent most of her afternoons riding with Asher. She walked down and ran her hand down Booker’s nose.
“Hey, girl.” She put her arms around the thick neck and fought the urge to cry. “I missed you.”
“Do you need a hand up, Miss Reagan?” the ranch hand asked.
“Let’s see if I still remember how.” She put her foot in the stirrup and took a minute to find her balance in the saddle. When she did, she spurred Booker into a run with a flick of the reins and headed toward the pasture Frida mentioned.
It was like waking up after sleeping a lifetime and finding she missed all the joy in the world—the wind in her hair, the green that rolled for miles that made the sky that much bluer, and the familiar clomp of Booker’s hooves hitting the ground. Her memories were safe on this land because they were forever tied to it.
She slowed at the family cemetery her father had built a few miles from the house. There hadn’t been a plan for one, but he’d wanted Dustin close for Asher’s sake. It was a place she could ride to and visit when she had a need to. There was no way for her to know what Asher’s thoughts were now, but when she was younger, she did come and talk to her father often.
She dismounted and opened the wrought iron gate. There was a bench in front of the only three graves in the whole plot. Dustin Evans and Silas Wilson had been best friends from the age of three, so it made sense for them to spend eternity side by side so they could share stories for as long as the sun rose. Alongside them, Maya Evans was also buried there—her dad had reinterred her after Dustin’s death. Reagan placed her hand on each tomb over their names and glanced up.
“Hey, Daddy and Uncle Dustin. Sorry it’s been so long, but as you both would’ve said, I had my head up my ass.” The day was starting to become uncomfortably warm, but the marble was cool to the touch. “I need you both to watch out for me. I’m home to stay, but it’s hard coming back here, knowing I’ll never see you again, Daddy.”
The bench was in the shade of the large oak tree, and she enjoyed the quiet of this place. It was so peaceful—she could see why her father had chosen it. A grove of ancient oaks were the perfect sentinels to watch over her family. There was only bone and ash to guard now, but no matter. They were still precious to her.
“Put in a good word for me.”
She headed out and smiled when she saw Uncle Wade herding cows toward a gated pasture. He appeared to be an excited small boy, which made her happy, considering how long he’d been doing the same job. The ranch hands with him shouted to get the stragglers back in line, and one of them pointed in her direction.
Wade turned his horse and moved to the end of the line and waved her on toward the river. It’d been a long time since her last ride, but he obviously still remembered her love of horses and the places she liked to ride. They took the long circuit back to the house but stopped at the levee. The river was high, and the current made hundreds of small whirlpools as if in a hurry to get to the Gulf.
“It’s good to have you home.” It’s all he said, and it was like spending time with her father again. They both had infinite patience when it came to waiting her out.
“It’s interesting to be back.” It was still too early to decide if it was a good move on her part. She’d been unhappy in Seattle, but would she be more miserable here?
“You’ve always had a home here, but only if you want one.” Wade tipped his hat back and sighed. “It’s not a total surprise you’re back, but I’ve been curious as to when you’d come home and why.”
“You shouldn’t be alone anymore,” she said before he could utter anything else. That’d been her reasoning, and she’d repeated it in her head until she believed it.
“Your father and I raised you to be independent and strong. Don’t waste your time on an old man set in his ways.” He laughed in a way that shook his belly, identical to her father’s laugh. “I was hoping you’d come home eventually because you’d become interested in ranching. That’s not going to happen, is it?”
“You have Asher, Uncle Wade. She knows this land better than anyone, and she’d fall on her sword before she let you down.” Except on days when Asher was riding around with a beautiful woman—then she forgot about the cows. And that was the last thing Reagan should be thinking about.
“Asher isn’t in charge here, and she doesn’t own the land—we do. Eventually you’re going to have to make some decisions about how we go forward.” He straightened his hat and tapped his fist on the horn of his saddle. “Doesn’t have to be anytime soon, so don’t think there’s a rush. I would, though, like for you to come and have a meal every so often.”
“I just got here, and with the move and work…” There was only so much lying she could do, especially when she could see he didn’t believe her.
“If that’s how it is.” He stopped and glanced at the river as if fishing for the right thing to say. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your job, and it’s good that you’re busy.”
“Uncle Wade…”
He waved his hand. “You’ve made something of yourself, sweet pea, so you don’t owe anyone any explanations, least of all me. Just as long as you’re happy.” He handed her the gift of not having to come up with any more stories, and she loved him for it.
They rode back in silence, and Frida had lunch ready. “Thanks, Frida.” The fried chicken and carrot soufflé were some of her favorites, but she’d lost her appetite on the levee. Frida’s intense stare was a pointed dare to her not to eat, so she found a way to bring her interest in food out of hibernation.
The phone rang, and her uncle got up, waving Frida to stay put. “Moon Touch Ranch.”
Whoever was on the other end talked for a few minutes straight. All her uncle did was say yes a few times before he came back to the table. The call seemed to get his good mood back, so she didn’t need three guesses as to who it was.
When he and her father gave their word to Dustin to watch over Asher, they’d truly meant it. Hell, it had been Asher who’d been with her father when he died. Reagan had gone to the hotel from the hospital to take a shower, and that’s when he picked to go, with only Asher at his side, probably what he’d wanted.
