by Jen Peters
He steadied her briefly. “I’ll give warning next time,” he smiled. A smile that showed his chipped tooth and put the dimple in his cheek. She nearly reached out to touch it.
“Right, next time. Perhaps I should be a real lady and wear a long skirt with thick, rustling petticoats so you can hear me coming.”
“With an umbrella?”
Robin laughed. “A parasol, you mean?”
“Whatever. I don’t spend my time watching old-fashioned shows like some people.”
Neither did she, really. Except for a certain Colin Firth as Darcy. She could watch that one over and over.
She looked at his own fine eyes, wondering if he kept as many feelings hidden there as Darcy did. “You’re visiting?” The words came out before she realized how stupid they sounded.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yup. We’ve been busy at the ranch, so it’s been a few days. Grandma’s as feisty as ever. Getting better with her speech, too.”
“Better enough to scold you?”
Cliff rolled his eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
They stood in the doorway for a long, awkward moment. Once, when she looked at him, he was looking down the hall. The next time he was looking at her, and she looked quickly away. If neither of them could think of anything to say, she ought to go in. She should.
Finally, she drew a breath. “I need to take Augie in to your grandmother.”
“Right.” He nodded, a lock of his hair swaying with the movement. “She’ll be glad to see him. I don’t cuddle as well as he does.”
“Well, see you later,” Robin said.
“Sure. Wait—tomorrow? Riding?”
Robin suddenly felt lighter. “Tomorrow. Three o’clock, right?”
Cliff nodded. “Whenever you’re done with work.”
Robin eased past him, Augie following on her heels, then turned and watched him stride down the hall.
“You yike him,” Mrs. Jackson said, smiling with one side of her mouth.
“Uh…” But Mrs. Jackson’s knowing eyes said she couldn’t fudge her way out of it. “It sort of looks that way,” she admitted, “but I don’t know if anything can really happen.” She settled Augie in the old woman’s lap.
“You yook ice dogether. Good mash.” She ran her good hand through Augie’s curls, then pointed to Robin.
Good mash? Oh, good match. Robin smiled. The D sounded thick and some of the consonants were still missing, but she was quite understandable. And Robin couldn’t help but dream of it being a good match too.
“Ow,” Mrs. Jackson said, “dell me abow dogs.”
So Robin told her all about the dogs, about the new one Cliff brought, about Jinx coming to sit by her, about trying to walk two or three dogs at the same time. Then she talked about her dreams for a shelter and the problems in the way.
“Un seb ad a dime.” Those words were a little harder to decipher, but not much. And by the time Robin left, she was feeling that she really could figure things out one step at a time.
* * *
Cliff spent the morning moving cattle from one pasture to another with Jory. They walked placidly along, used to the process, and his thoughts wandered to Robin coming that afternoon and then to the future of the ranch. The herd was healthy and the calves were filling out well, almost ready for market. They’d be making the third cutting of alfalfa soon, but the year’s crops might not be enough to feed the cows through the winter. If only he could convince Phil to buy some more acreage. They could increase the hay yield as well as the herd size.
But his uncle never seemed to have time to discuss it. Or he plain didn’t want to.
“Good work,” Jory said when they closed the last gate. “You heading for the barn now?”
Cliff nodded. It seemed like a never ending job. He’d already stripped, washed and bleached the six individual stalls. The power washer made it go fairly quickly, but all the prep and clean-up stretched the job out.
Jory, who never used three words when one would do, grunted in acknowledgement. He rode to the end of the now-empty pasture, and Cliff knew he’d be repairing a loose gate.
Back in the horse paddock, Cliff stripped Zeus’s saddle from him, gently pulled his bridle off, and slipped him a carrot from his pocket. “Take a break now, buddy. We’re going out again in a few hours.” He hooked the bridle on a fence and slung the saddle over a rail—no point in lugging them to the house when he’d just have to bring them out again.
Inside the barn, he looked around in dismay. Aunt Jess had already taken some saddles to clean thoroughly, and they’d stay inside until the whole barn was decontaminated. But there were more for him to clear out of the tack room, plus grain barrels and a few bales of hay to move, before he could do those areas, and then the center aisle after that. Not to mention the buckets, grooming supplies, and miscellaneous equipment to clean.
And until it was all done, they couldn’t have a single horse in the barn.
He sighed and began mixing a bleach solution. Better get to work.
Two hours later, Cliff dropped his hose with a grin when he heard Robin’s old Toyota in the driveway. She eased out of the car, her scuffed cowboy boots looked well broken-in.
Her eyes sparkled as she approached. “I hope I’m dressed okay. I figured you didn’t want me in flip-flops.”
“You’re just fine,” he said. “Where’d you get the boots?”
“The back of my closet, still there from my western phase when I was fifteen. My hat was smushed beyond recognition, though.”
“Boots are good, hats are optional,” Cliff said. He took a halter and rope from the fence post and led the way into the paddock. “This is Cassie,” he said, approaching a palomino. Her butterscotch coat gleamed, offsetting her creamy mane and tail.
“Oh, she’s lovely,” Robin exclaimed.
“She was my cousin’s. Carla rode a lot as a kid, then got into boys and social stuff, and now she only comes out when she’s desperate for a horse fix. But Aunt Jess rides her once in a while and she’s a good horse to start on.”
Robin reached a hand out, and the mare stretched forward, hoping for a treat. Cliff pulled a carrot piece out of his pocket and handed it to Robin. “Hold it in the flat of your palm.”
Robin looked at him, then gingerly followed his instructions. Cassie lipped it into her mouth just as Robin jerked her hand back. “It tickles! I’d forgotten about horses having whiskers.”
Cliff chuckled. “They’re a lot different up close and personal than they are just looking at them grazing.” He slipped the halter on, and they walked back to the gate. “We need to saddle out here—Brandy is contagious and we’ve got to sanitize the barn.”
Robin’s eyes widened. “The whole thing? How do you do that?”
“Bleach, water, and a lot of elbow grease, unfortunately.”
“Will Brandy be okay?”
He tied the palomino to a post and looked across the yard at the round pen, where Brandy stood dozing in the sun. “Yeah, but it may take a while. And in the meantime, if it’s what we think it is, we’ve got to make sure the others don’t get it.” He looked across the pasture at the other horses. So far, no one else was showing signs, thank goodness.
Robin gave him a sideways look, her mouth quirking up slightly. “Well, Cassie is great for me, but are you going to walk?”
“Hah! Maybe I’ll ride double behind you.” Which he wouldn’t mind one bit. He turned and whistled for Zeus, who came trotting up looking for his usual treat. “You old rascal, you’ll do anything for food.” He gave him half a carrot, haltered him, and tied him to another post, next to his saddle.
“Come on, we’ve got to get your tack from the house. It’ll be clean and shiny and germ-free after Aunt Jess got through with it.”
He shortened his stride to match Robin’s. It was going to be a great afternoon.
Chapter 8
With Cassie’s saddle and bridle hanging on the fence, Cliff showed Robin how to brush
the mare, using a flick of the wrist to get the dust out of her coat instead of just smoothing it out. She tried it, but must not have been doing it well, because Cliff put his hand over hers and made the motion with her.
She could feel the cotton of his shirt against her bare arm, could smell the alfalfa dust in his hair, and his breath close to hers made her heart pound. She clamped down her feelings—he was only correcting her mistakes. All she had was a silly crush that would never be returned.
They worked their way around Cassie’s body until Cliff finally pronounced her well groomed. “You get the saddle while I pick out her hooves,” he said.
She reached up but couldn’t pull the saddle down. On tiptoes, she tried to lift it high enough to clear the rail. That thing was heavy, no matter how easily he had slung it around.
She was still struggling when he finished with Cassie’s feet and looked up. With a gleam in his eye, he reached over and lifted it off, handing it to her easily.
“Oof,” she said, struggling for a better grip on it.
He just grinned, a goofy grin that made her go all smooshy inside.
She hefted it, settled it a bit better, and followed him back to Cassie’s side. He slung a pad up on top of the horse’s back and took the saddle from Robin. With no more than a flick of his wrist and a flex of his arms, he settled the heavy thing on top of the pad.
He fastened the cinch so it was snug, not tight, then slipped a bridle on over Cassie’s halter.
“You leave that on?” she asked. When she watched roping or jumping or something on TV, they never had a halter under the bridle.
“Yup,” he said, unsnapping the rope that tied Cassie to a fence post. “Gives me something to tie her with if I need to. It’s not safe to use the reins—if she pulled back she could break the bridle.”
“Are we tying her up somewhere?”
“You never know.” That bit of bangs fell in his eyes again and he looked out with an impish grin.
She stayed by Cassie, stroking her sleek coat and murmuring to her, while Cliff saddled his own gelding. They led the horses out, Robin trying to stay two steps ahead of Cassie’s big feet.
Out in the yard, Cliff grasped her bent knee and boosted her into the saddle. She wobbled as she went up but settled easier than she expected, especially considering the reaction of her legs to his grasp on them.
Somehow it seemed much farther to the ground than what she remembered.
He reached up and took her hands in his calloused ones. She stifled the tingle that went through her and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.
“Hold your reins with one hand, usually your left, and move your hand in the direction you want to go. She’ll feel the pressure of the rein on her neck and move accordingly.”
Robin tried it, pulling her arm out to the right. Cassie obediently turned and walked that direction.
“Yeah, like that,” Cliff called behind her. “But little motions are fine, you don’t have to make a big swipe across.”
Robin turned the mare one way and then the next, winding around the open area, Cassie obeying her instructions like a well-trained dog. “Uh,” she said finally, “how do I get her to stop.”
“Just put your hand down and sit still.”
Robin was already sitting still, so she just put her hand down. Cassie kept walking.
Cliff came over to them. “Can you feel how your hips are moving along with her motion?”
Robin took inventory of her body parts, and yes, her pelvis was gently swaying.
“So freeze your hips.”
She did. Nothing happened.
“Cassie,” Cliff warned.
The mare must have heard the tone in his voice, because she stopped and turned her head to him.
Cliff snorted. “She’s a great mare, but she’ll get away with little bits if she thinks she can. If you ever need to do a little more, just pull back—gently—on the reins.”
Robin turned Cassie to the left, but nothing happened. “Uh, Cliff? You told me how to stop her. How do I make her go—kick?”
He shook his head. “All she needs is a nudge with your calves. She’ll do best if you can keep your heels away from her sides.”
So Robin squeezed her calves and, wonder of wonders, the palomino walked forward obediently. Robin practiced starting and stopping while Cliff mounted his own horse. She could ride!
“Nudge her again,” Cliff said once he was seated on the broad sorrel, “and she’ll pick up a jog.”
Robin did.
Riding suddenly got a lot harder.
Cassie jogged forward and Robin bounced along, flopping to the right and then back to the left. “Cliff!” She kept a death grip on the saddle horn while she tried her darnedest not to fall off completely.
Suddenly he was jogging next to her. “Relax,” he said. “Let your body sink into the saddle, let yourself move with her naturally.”
She tried but just bounced harder.
“Sink. Settle, like a sack of flour,” Cliff said.
Right. Mister Born-on-a-Horse made it look easy, moving so well with his horse that he could have been a centaur. But she tried anyway, first to be a sack of flour, then to melt like a pool of chocolate. The melted chocolate worked.
“Hey, you got it!” Cliff cried.
And she did. She jogged around the yard, turning Cassie one way and then the other. Cliff slouched in his saddle, watching her all the time. Robin stiffened when she realized his gaze never left her, but forced herself to be melted chocolate again. She wasn’t sure she could stay relaxed and melted and keep steering Cassie, all while knowing that Cliff was watching constantly.
Finally, Cliff turned his gelding toward her. “You’re ready, let’s go.”
“Go? Robin squeaked. “Go where?”
Cliff waved his arm. “Out there.” He maneuvered his horse to a gate and pulled the bar. Then the pair neatly sidestepped through. “After you, Madame,” he said.
The dimple in his cheek nearly unnerved her, but she nudged Cassie forward and they walked calmly into the open.
“If we don’t mind opening some gates, we can ride through the pastures into the hills,” Cliff said. He looked up and down her body, making her blush, but she reminded herself he must be checking her form and stability on the horse, not checking her out.
She sat tall and kept her rein hand quiet, willing him to approve. He finally nodded and they walked off. She waited while he opened another gate, and then they were in the pasture with the cows and calves.
She tilted her face to the sun and reveled in the warmth and the movement of the mare under her. A wisp of a breeze kept it from getting too hot.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” Cliff said, sending a lingering glance her way. His long, lanky body was encased in tight jeans, his muscles relaxed as he sat perfectly at home on a horse.
Okay, so perhaps it was a little hot.
Cassie’s quiet amble was suddenly too dull. “Can we jog?” Robin asked.
Cliff shrugged. “Shorten your reins a little, they’ve slipped.” When Robin had them to his satisfaction, he said, “Go ahead. Nudge her with your calves.”
And just like that, they were jogging through the open pasture at a speed that kept her from thinking about his broad shoulders. Every time she bounced, she repeated “melted chocolate’ like a mantra.
“You’re doing fine,” he said, keeping an even pace with her. “Okay, now slow down, we’ve got a fence coming up.”
“Fence?” Robin squeaked. “Uh…” Before she could even think to pull the reins back, Cassie slowed down, stopping at the fence of her own accord. Robin leaned forward and patted her neck, holding the saddle horn with the other hand. “What a good girl you are,” she crooned.
“And she sure knows it,” Cliff said, repeating the gate maneuver again. “But she’ll take good care of you as long as you don’t mess up too badly.”
They left the cattle behind and Robin followed him across a shallow river.
> “The Koke, where we get our irrigation water from,” Cliff said. “This late in the season, we can cross easily.”
“I thought it was just McCormick’s Creek up here.” Robin was surprised she didn’t know her hometown as well as she thought.
“I think there are creeks all over these mountains. But McCormick’s Creek meets up with the Koke a couple miles downstream.”
They went single file up a narrow trail through the forest, and Robin learned where the phrase “nose to tail” came from. Sunlight filtered down between the trees, and she heard rustling off the path—small animals, she assumed.
They eventually turned onto a wide dirt road, and Cliff slowed so that Robin caught up beside him. “You doing okay?” he asked, his eyes flicking over her form.
“Oh yeah,” she said. “Why have I never done this before? All I did when I was little was ride my friend’s horse around the pasture. And Cassie is a whole lot nicer than hers—he liked to buck.” She reached down and patted the palomino’s neck, not even losing her balance.
“Maybe you just didn’t know who to ask. But now you do, so ask anytime.” Cliff caught her eye, then looked away. “Want to jog a bit?”
Robin nodded, then tried melting into the saddle before nudging Cassie. She was jogging on a forest road! The trees went by faster and she didn’t have a chance to look at the scenery, but she didn’t wobble too badly, either.
“If you stand in your stirrups, she’ll go a little faster,” Cliff suggested. “You can grab some mane or hold onto the saddle horn if you need more support.”
So she did, and Cassie did, and the breeze filled Robin’s face. Exuberance rose in her and she wanted to shout, but didn’t want to startle the horses. Or seem like a doofus.
Cliff grinned at her, then settled back in his saddle and Zeus dropped to a walk. She did the same, and they ambled along while she caught her breath.
She was silent for a moment, enthralled with Cassie’s movement under her. “What does it take to own a horse?”
He looked sideways at her and chuckled. “Money. Time. A place to keep it, which is more money. And a lot of work.”
