Home on the Range

by Susan Fox

  “Mom?”

  She surfaced. “What, Rob?”

  “Can I get a new pair of black jeans for our rodeo exhibition? Mine are too short.”

  “You’re shooting up like a weed,” Jess’s father said to Robin. “You’re going to be taller than your mother.”

  “You’re right, Wade,” her mom, Miriam, agreed. “The child has her mom’s build but her dad’s height.”

  Her dad. Yes, Evan was tall. But of course, her parents were talking about Dave, because they thought he was Robin’s father. And he was, in every way that counted.

  “Jeans,” she said quickly. “Yes, sure. Pick them up the next time you’re in town staying with your dad.” She heard her voice emphasize the last word needlessly.

  Robin spent half her time with her mom and grandparents at Bly Ranch, and the other half with Dave, who lived in a comfy two-bedroom suite at the Wild Rose Inn, the charming heritage hotel he owned. Although Jess and Dave were divorced, they were still the best of friends, and both adored Robin.

  Should she tell Dave that Evan was in town? It would upset him, even if she assured him Ev had no clue Robin even existed.

  Was there any chance the two men might bump into each other? Probably not. Dave was too busy to visit the Crazy Horse, and Evan wasn’t likely to go into the town of Caribou Crossing. Unless . . . Would he go to see his mother, Brooke? It would be really nice if they reconciled. But what were the chances? Evan’s bitterness ran bone deep, and for good reason. Still, he didn’t know about Brooke’s amazing turnaround....

  “Mo-ther!”

  “Sorry, what did I miss this time?”

  “I asked if Kimiko can come over after school tomorrow.”

  “Sure. Do you want to ask her for supper?” Jess didn’t have to consult her mother, who did most of the cooking. Miriam Bly delighted in feeding any of Robin’s or Jess’s friends.

  “I did.”

  Jess grinned. Her daughter operated under the same assumption of hospitality.

  “But she can’t,” Robin went on. “Her brother’s got some dorky game at seven, and her parents are dragging her along.”

  Jess smothered another grin. She could just imagine that, in two or three years’ time, Kimiko’s good-looking, athletic brother might be hero material for her little girl. She was grateful that day was still a ways off.

  Or maybe Rob would take after her mother. Jess had never been impressed by the jocks. She couldn’t see the point of games like football and basketball. When you’d galloped a horse across an open meadow and jumped a split-rail fence, squabbling over a ball seemed ridiculous.

  It wasn’t Dave’s prowess at basketball that had attracted her. He was just such a darn nice guy. The nicest boy in school. He’d asked her out in grade eleven and she’d said no, telling him she wasn’t ready to date. The truth was, her heart belonged to Evan, who showed not the slightest interest in dating her. But Dave was a good friend. When Jess wasn’t hanging out with Evan, she spent a lot of time with Dave and his pals—a group Evan disparaging called “the in crowd.”

  The most she and Dave had ever done was exchange a peck on the cheek. He respected her wishes and she trusted him. That was why it was Dave she went to when she discovered she was pregnant. Evan had been gone almost two months and she hadn’t heard a word from him.

  He’d left her that night at Zephyr Lake, the unathletic Evan taking off at a flat-out gallop. He’d yanked off the condom, pulled on his pants, and disappeared into the darkness, leaving her his mom’s old clunker of a car but not the keys, which must have been in his pocket. Leaving her in tears, wondering how such a beautiful night could have gone so wrong. Had sex with her been that awful? Or had he realized the condom had broken, and in an instant seen his entire future come crashing down?

  She had finally pulled herself together enough to walk out to the highway and hitch a ride home. She didn’t hear from him, and then, two days later, her mom came back from the grocery store with the latest gossip. Evan had caught an earlier bus than he’d planned and was already on his way across the continent to Cornell. Jess felt utterly betrayed. He had denied her the one thing she wanted: a beautiful memory of a mutual exchange of love. Instead she had the memory of her own stupidity, and his rejection.

  Jess had thought distance might heal the wound. She and Ev had squabbled many times over the years, but always made up quickly. She’d waited for him to call or e-mail, but it was ages before she got his e-mail with that stilted apology and inquiry into how she was. Like he was a stranger writing a courtesy note.

  Even at that, she might have given him another chance, but by the time he e-mailed again, Jess knew she was pregnant and planned to keep the baby. How could she write back and forth to Evan and pretend everything was normal between them? How could she share some details of her life but leave out the most important ones? Far better to make a break, no matter how painful.

  “Jessica!”

  She jerked upright, startled to find that her father and Robin had left. Her mother stood beside her, hands planted firmly on her hips. “I swear, you haven’t been so moody since you were pregnant. There’re bills to pay and horses to tend to. Are you going to daydream all night?”

  She probably was. But first she had work to do. The ranch was a busy place and they all had their own set of chores. What with the job at the Crazy Horse and her work here, there was little time left over for pursuing her dream of setting up a no-frills boot camp for humans and horses. The dream she’d almost started to tell Evan about that afternoon.

  Her mother squeezed her shoulder. “Feeling okay, honey?”

  She jerked to her feet. “Fine. I’ll be out in the barn.”

  As she followed the path through her mother’s lush flower and vegetable garden, Jess thought about the way she’d started to open up to Evan about her riding camp ideas, just like in the old days. He’d been the recipient of all her dreams—except the ones about making love with him. But now . . . Now, the plain truth was that he intimidated her. When they were kids, they were equals because both had big dreams and—at least so she’d thought—an equal chance of achieving them. Now, ten years later, he had succeeded and she had . . . not failed, just not gotten there yet.

  If she hadn’t had a child, if she and Dave hadn’t divorced, if her father hadn’t had a stroke . . . Yes, she had excuses. But all the same, she feared her riding camp plan would sound like another childish dream to Evan. His mother, Brooke, had shown her the business card he’d enclosed with one of the checks he’d sent. He owned his own company. She envisioned a ritzy office, rich clients, sophisticated investments, international finance. Evan was miles out of her league.

  And he’d done it all in ten years. Yes, the man did deserve a plaque.

  Jess firmed her jaw. Okay, so she hadn’t “made it” in ten years. But she would.

  Dinner at the Crazy Horse last night, Sunday, had been quick and quiet, with most people travel-weary. That had been fine by Evan, who still, in social situations with strangers, felt some of the same awkwardness as when he was a misfit kid. He could talk investments, world affairs, and theatre, but personal small talk didn’t come naturally.

  Monday night, when the ten guests were seated around a polished maple table, the owners, Will and his wife, Kathy, pulled up chairs and joined them.

  “Okay, folks,” Will said, “it’s time for introductions. Thérèse and George, how about you start us out, since this is your second time here.”

  A fit-looking middle-aged couple exchanged smiles, then the woman said, “We’re from Switzerland and last summer we wanted to see Canada.” Her English was flavored with a charming French accent. “Also we had a yen to try Western riding. We surfed the net for a place that was small, and focused on riding.”

  “But didn’t make beginners round up cattle and camp out on the trail,” George added, with a laugh.

  “This was perfect,” said Thérèse, “and so here we are again. Last year we traveled on to Banff and Ja
sper, and this year, after our stay at the Crazy Horse, we are going to Vancouver, then Victoria.”

  A plump, vibrant young woman, said, “You should come south of the border to Seattle. That’s where I’m from. I can tell you all the things to see and do.”

  She glanced around the table. “I’ll go next, seeing as I’m already talking. I’m Sandy, a software developer. I wanted a change from computers and the city, and I’ve always loved horses. I read about the Crazy Horse in a resort magazine. It sounded relaxed, friendly.”

  Next came Sylvia and Aaron from Chicago, both lawyers, who said friends had recommended the Crazy Horse.

  “The Weissmans, right?” Kathy inquired.

  “That’s right. They were coming with us but had to cancel at the last minute because his mother had a heart attack.”

  “We were sorry to hear about that,” Will said. “Hope his mother is okay.”

  “She’s recovering,” Sylvia said, “enough to kvetch about the diet and exercise program they’re lining up for her.”

  Kathy laughed, then said, “Since they had to cancel, we acquired Evan.”

  Everyone turned toward him.

  “I’m from New York,” he began. He couldn’t tell them someone had recommended the place, or they’d ask for a name. And he didn’t want to tell the silly plaque story. He contented himself with saying, “I’m an investment counselor and, like Sandy, needed a break and thought I’d try something different.”

  The conversational ball passed to Joan, the thirtysomething woman with big hair who’d been limping up to the lodge when Evan walked down to the barn for his afternoon lesson. In passing, she’d said, “Hope you survive better than I did.”

  Now Joan said, “I’ve been a stay-at-home wife and mom, and the youngest kid just flew the nest. My husband, a real estate developer, never takes holidays so I’m giving myself a treat, riding horses plus getting some spa pampering.” She wrinkled her nose ruefully. “At least I thought it would be a treat until I spent a couple of hours on a horse.”

  “It gets easier,” Thérèse said. “Trust me.”

  That left Ann, an orthopedic surgeon from Toronto, and two middle-aged women whose names were Beth and Kim. They said they were partners who owned a bookstore in Vancouver, and from their affectionate manner Evan assumed the partnership to be personal as well as business. Ann, Beth, and Kim all confessed to being outdoors gals at heart.

  These people weren’t the country bumpkins he’d, for some reason, been expecting. He remembered now that Angelica had said the resort was exclusive and world famous, and the price tag was hefty. He should have known the other guests would be people who had either made or inherited a fair bit of money.

  Before Evan knew it, he, Ann, and George, the CEO of a medical supply company, were deep in a discussion of the differences between health care systems in different countries, and how that impacted George’s company’s sales.

  It seemed the social aspects of this trip might not be so bad after all. Who knew, he might even get some new business. Though he mustn’t forget his real purpose: his mission for Gianni.

  The mission that required deceiving Jess, while somehow persuading her to trust him again.

  Evan groaned as hot shower water pounded muscles that had stiffened overnight. Today’s program was light: a morning trail ride, then a free afternoon. Over dinner last night, guests had been making plans for massages and spa treatments, and Kathy was giving a cooking class, but Evan had no interest in such things. A few were going into Caribou Crossing, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

  He missed his work.

  This whole situation was absurd. He wanted to go to his New York fitness club and work out the aches and pains, then have a doppio—a double-shot espresso. He wanted to put in a thirteen-hour day at the office, then meet Cynthia for drinks and stimulating conversation. They’d part with a quick kiss—no sex, because they only made love on weekends, when they didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn. In New York, his life was organized. It made sense.

  Quickly he dressed and headed for the lodge, where he dialed his own office number. After a ten-minute rapid-fire chat with Angelica, he felt even more frustrated. Damn it, things were happening in the world and he was stuck in Hicksville, missing out.

  Because there was only one computer for guests, he couldn’t monopolize it, and besides, Internet reception was slow and spotty. He asked Angelica to try to summarize everything in one e-mail each day, with attachments. He’d copy it to his USB drive and take it to his room, review everything on his laptop, type notes in response, then take his USB back to the guest computer and e-mail the file to her. Clumsy. Clunky. Frustrating. Inefficient. But it seemed to be the best he could do.

  The lodge was coming to life, and he followed his nose into the dining room. At home, breakfast was usually a toasted bagel and a doppio to go, and yesterday the Crazy Horse buffet had been intimidating. His stomach hadn’t been up to facing fruit salad, granola, bacon and eggs, sausages and pancakes, porridge with brown sugar and cream, and a basket of fresh breads and muffins.

  Today, he was surprised to find he was really hungry, and the food looked tempting. He took small servings of several items before seating himself at the communal table, a slab of wood the size of the glass-topped table back in his own boardroom.

  Socializing first thing in the morning was another rarity, and he wished for a private table, a New York Times, and his iPhone. By the time the table had filled up, he was finished eating and excused himself, his quiet voice barely audible amid the babble of excited chatter.

  He headed back to his cabin to exchange comfortable sneakers for boots. Maybe if he went down to the barn early, he could get Jess talking about her no-frills riding camp.

  His expensive boots looked almost as good as new. After yesterday’s riding lesson, he had overcome his disgust and cleaned and polished them. But when he tried to wedge his sore feet inside, he decided that either the boots had shrunk overnight or his feet had expanded. Then, the moment he limped outside, reddish-brown dust rose as if magnified, to coat the gleaming surfaces. He stalked down to the barn, feeling distinctly out of sorts despite the gentle morning sun.

  Jess and Madisun were bustling around the horses, and Jess barely spared him a smile. A smile that seemed more noncommittal than enthusiastic. Maybe the air between them wasn’t as clear as he’d hoped.

  Evan kept well away from the animals and leaned against a tree, drumming his fingers restlessly against the bark, then grimacing when he noticed his skin was sticky. Was there anything in this godforsaken place that wasn’t dirty?

  After a minute or two, he realized Jess wasn’t going to come anywhere near him, and he could see she was far too busy to talk. He growled in annoyance, then hiked painfully back to his cabin, where he sat on the couch, glaring at his computer, which was virtually useless without the Internet.

  When he returned to the barnyard half an hour later, most of the other guests were there, paired off with their horses. He went over to stand beside Rusty, keeping clear of the horse’s feet. When Jess yelled, “Mount up!” he glanced at the cinch that ran under the horse’s belly. When he had trouble squeezing his hand under it, he decided Jess or Madisun must have tightened it. He thrust his foot into the stirrup and hauled himself aboard.

  The group left the barnyard by the same gate as yesterday, but then took what he thought was a different path. It was hard to tell; all the trees looked the same.

  He concentrated on the things Jess had taught him in his private lesson—muttering “ear, shoulder, hip, heel” and “elbow, wrist, bit”—and thought he was actually improving. But after a few minutes, restlessness set in. He wasn’t used to doing nothing. He was a multitasker. At home, if he was walking down the street or riding in a cab, he’d be transacting business on his iPhone. Even when he and Cynthia got together, as often as not one of them would be bouncing work ideas off the other.

  Well, he could multitask here, too. In t
he unlikely event he did advise his client to invest in Jess’s project, Gianni would have to sell some of his current interests. Evan made a mental review of Gianni’s holdings, assessing the pros and cons of selling each.

  He really had done a good job for Gianni. And Gianni seemed so keen on this no-frills riding thing. Gianni could afford a loss. What would it hurt to give Jess her chance?

  He shook his head vigorously. It would hurt his sense of ethics. And if the program failed, it would hurt not only Gianni’s pocketbook but Jess’s reputation, not to mention his own.

  Rusty trotted again, and Evan imagined the portly Gianni bouncing along in a rigid saddle. Gianni was the last guy he would have figured for harboring cowboy fantasies.

  Evan’s concentration was interrupted briefly when the horses loped. He had to admit he got a kick out of the powerful motion of Rusty underneath him. This gait was easier on his body than the trot.

  When the string of horses returned to a walk, he turned his focus to investment strategies for the Alzheimer’s care facility a client had started as a charitable project. Evan was on the board and—in a voluntary rather than paid capacity—in charge of managing the foundation’s funds. Before he knew it, the ride was over.

  Amid the milling horses and people, Evan made his way to Jess. “I was hoping you’d have time to talk.”

  “Evan, I have work to do.”

  Her answer didn’t surprise him. But he had a Plan B. “The brochure said that guests can each have a couple of extra private lessons. Any chance of getting one this afternoon?”

  She shoved her hat back and gaped at him. “You want more riding?” Then she snapped her fingers. “Ah. The plaque.”

  After a moment’s deliberation, she said, “I have to head home for a while but I could come back later. Say around four?”

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” But the way she looked at him said she thought maybe it would be.