Home on the Range

by Susan Fox

  She paused and Evan knew she was fighting tears. Dear, emotional Jess. She must give this speech every two weeks, yet it still touched her heart. He wanted to hug her. Instead, he reached out to stroke Rusty’s neck. The horse turned a liquid eye on him.

  “Monty Roberts’s most famous book is called The Man Who Listens to Horses. He learned by observing wild horses. He saw the way the adults, particularly the dominant mare—and yes, men, I did say the lady was dominant—taught the young ones. He learned the body language, he figured out what the horses were telling each other. And he applied those techniques to training horses. With amazing success.”

  She stood in front of the group and lifted her hands toward them, palms up. “And what are those techniques based on? The principles of acceptance versus rejection. Horses, just like us, hate to be ostracized. They want to be liked, accepted by their group, their leader.”

  Evan had wanted that, too, as a child. But it hadn’t happened. Blame his flawed parents or his own proud, bullheaded personality. But the only place he’d ever felt accepted was with this girl, and her generous parents.

  Jess went on. “If you’re the trainer, it’s your acceptance they seek. They want to be your friend. If you ask them to do something and they obey, you reward them with acceptance and friendship. If they disobey, you don’t hit them, you simply shun them. You send them away until they tell you, with their body language, that they want to be forgiven, to try again.”

  When Evan had run out on her at Zephyr Lake, then e-mailed far too late she’d shunned him. He had tried again, once, but she hadn’t taken him back.

  Jess glanced from face to face. “I’ll be telling you more about Monty Roberts’s techniques over the next week. You can watch his videos at the lodge if you’re interested, and the gift shop sells his books.”

  Evan, still wondering about the parallels between their relationship and a horse and its trainer, was coming to understand why Jess was keen on her horsy boot camp. She’d like to give sessions on horse communication every day, not confine them to a few minutes here and there. She wanted to deal with what she called “real horse people,” not horse lovers who wanted to do a little riding but also enjoy being pampered at a spa.

  Jess rubbed her hands together. “Enough talk. Now you’re going to work.” She picked up the metal spike again and grinned mischievously. “Starting with the hoof pick.”

  Ten minutes later, head swimming with information about grooming tools, armed with his very own hoof pick, Evan gazed dubiously at Rusty’s huge hooves.

  “You’ll feel better for this,” he muttered to the horse. Feeling safer starting at the front, he attempted to lift one of the horse’s legs, trying to remember how Jess had done it. She and Knight had made it look easy: she nudged, and the horse’s leg rose.

  Evan nudged. “Up now,” he said encouragingly.

  Rusty shifted position, momentarily raising the opposite hoof, then plunking it down solidly. Yeah, the horse did have a sense of humor.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Evan said. “Don’t you know you’re a noble beast who’s supposed to try to win my approval?”

  He heard trills of female laughter, both from Ann, the woman whose horse was next to Rusty, and from Madisun, who’d come to see how they were doing.

  “Let me show you again,” the girl said, demonstrating on Ann’s horse.

  Finally, Evan met with success. Then, balancing the horse’s knee on his own, he did his best to scrape assorted disgusting, foul-smelling substances from inside Rusty’s hoof. The horse’s weight grew heavier and Evan’s knees sunk lower toward the mucky ground. “If you think I’m going to kneel for you, you have another think coming, my friend.”

  Ann chuckled and he glanced over, noting tousled red hair, flushed cheeks, a plucky grin. “Wait until I tell the other docs how I spent my summer vacation,” she said.

  “Mastering new skills,” he said.

  “Developing manual dexterity. Can you believe I’m a surgeon?” She twirled her hoof pick clumsily.

  “Honoring the amazing bond that is only possible between horse and human.” His pick sent a chunk of manure flying, barely missing his face, and they both burst out laughing.

  “You two are having way too much fun,” Jess teased from behind them. “Come on, you’ve only got three hooves to go.”

  Ann squared her shoulders and turned back to her horse, Distant Drummer, whose coat had a pretty pattern of brown and white splotches.

  Evan followed suit with Rusty, and Jess watched until they’d both managed to get their horses to lift the next hoof, then moved on to coach Sandy.

  After a few minutes, Ann said, “You know TJ, don’t you?”

  “From a long time ago, though I didn’t know she worked here when I registered.”

  “She’s wonderful at her job. So patient with us, so knowledgeable. It’s obvious she has a tremendous love and respect for horses.”

  “That’s very true.” He felt a rush of pride. “She’s really something, that Jess.”

  “Jess?”

  “TJ is her professional name, but her real name is Jessica.”

  “Jessica? Like the woman in The Man From Snowy River?”

  He remembered Jess mentioning that movie, citing it as the reason she used TJ in her work. “You saw the movie?”

  “I’ve seen every movie with horses in it. Haven’t you seen it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, you have to, you’ll love it. And Return to Snowy River, too. I know they’re old, but they’re a must if you love horses. I can’t believe you haven’t seen them.”

  “I, uh, only discovered horses fairly recently.”

  “I can’t believe it. You’re doing so well.”

  “Thanks.” The astonishing thing was that he was enjoying it. Somewhere along the line, it had stopped being an intellectual and physical challenge and started to become a pleasure. Jess was entitled to a few “I told you so’s.”

  He let down Rusty’s last hoof and gave him a teasing slap on his flank. “That’s four. And I bet you’ve got the first one filthy again, haven’t you?”

  To Ann, he said, “Don’t let on about TJ’s real name, okay? I gather she doesn’t want any Snowy River jokes.”

  “The secret’s safe with me.”

  Together they went to exchange hoof picks for grooming brushes and combs. They chatted for a while as they worked, then fell silent. There was something profoundly relaxing about the firm, even motions, the feel of Rusty’s warm body, the undemanding companionship.

  When everyone was finished, Jess lavished words of praise, then said, “That’s it for the day, folks. Enjoy the time off.”

  “I’m looking forward to the demonstration tomorrow afternoon,” Thérèse said.

  “What demonstration?” Joan asked.

  “Fancy cowgirl riding,” Madisun said. “TJ is incredible and her daughter’s a star.”

  “TJ, you have a daughter?” Sandy exclaimed. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  Nor could Evan. He was looking forward to his chance at dinner tonight. He hoped that Robin would be like the young Jess, and that he wouldn’t recognize Dave in the girl. For some crazy reason, it hurt to think that Dave and Jess had created a child not long after he’d left town.

  Jess yanked off her hat and fiddled with the brim. “I’m not sure Robin can make it.”

  The guests protested loudly, and for some reason Jess shot a quick glance in Evan’s direction before she said, “I’ll see what I can work out.”

  When the guests headed for the lodge, Evan hung back, hoping for an opportunity to talk alone with Jess. He needed to make his confession, and didn’t want to do it in front of her parents and daughter. “Can I help you turn the horses out for the night?”

  Madisun cocked her head toward Jess. “He’s got good horse sense. I vote yes.”

  “Good horse sense.” Jess shook her head bemusedly.

  The three of them worked companionably tog
ether, and then Madisun headed into the barn to clean tack. Alone with Jess, Evan felt a physical pull to move closer to her. To touch her, even if it was just to brush her hand or to flick off the smudge of dirt on her cheek. He resisted, knowing he shouldn’t be feeling this way. What he really needed to do was talk to her about Gianni Vitale.

  He was trying to find a way to open that conversation, when Jess said, “About supper? I have some chores to do at the ranch. I’ll ride home now, then drive back and pick you up at your cabin around six.”

  “I can catch a cab,” he said automatically. “But do you have to leave right now? I’d hoped for a chance to talk.”

  “Can’t now, I have too much to do. The ranch doesn’t run itself, and there’s a horse I’m training, too. We’ll have lots of time to talk tonight. And as for a cab, you’re not in Manhattan, city boy. Taxis are few and far between. ’Sides, Mom would tan my hide.”

  “Okay,” he muttered unhappily. “See you later.” How in hell was he going to handle this? Confess on the drive to the ranch, then pump her about her business plan while her parents and daughter listened?

  He had walked a few steps when she said, “Evan?”

  He turned back. “Yes?”

  There was a soft, almost wistful expression on her face, and again he wanted to touch her. “You’re really fitting in,” she said. “I wish you’d been like this when you were a boy.”

  For a moment, he wished it, too. He and Jess could have ridden together, taken picnics into the backcountry. And that thought had him feeling like a horny teenager again. But no, he’d hated this place, hated his life. If he’d stayed, he’d never have become the man he was today.

  Firmly, he shook his head. “I needed to be focused. Driven. I had to get out of here to find myself.” And to escape his home life, but Jess knew that without him saying it.

  “And maybe now you had to come back to find yourself?”

  His immediate reaction was to reject the idea.

  She must have read his face, or his mind. She grinned. “Think about it. And while you’re thinking, have a sauna and massage. Tomorrow you’ll be in the saddle for more hours than your body is used to.”

  “I hear you, boss.” Turning to walk up the hill, he hated to think how she’d react when she learned the truth. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t be in the saddle; he’d be on a plane to NYC. Would this tentative new/old friendship with Jess still be alive, or would she flat out reject him again once she knew he’d been lying to her all week?

  Damn Gianni, anyway!

  Jess said a quick good-bye to Madisun, gave the usual good-night treat to her old friend Petula, then leaped up on her own horse, Conti, for the fifteen-minute ride home. If she didn’t keep up with the ranch chores, her father would overdo. There was an ongoing conspiracy between Jess and her mother to keep Wade Bly from overextending himself. They’d do everything they could to prevent another stroke.

  She loved the powerful feeling of Conti surging forward between her thighs. Communication between them was a continual two-way street. It happened by instinct, by sensation, rather than by effort.

  Why couldn’t the chemistry between a man and a woman be as easy and natural?

  She remembered how it had been with her and Evan, the one time they’d made love. Or, as she was sure he would term it, had sex. She’d expected magic under a canopy of sparkly stars, and though the physical act had been hasty and clumsy, just being intimate with him for the first time was its own magic. Until it ended so badly.

  The other night, lying beside him on a mattress of hay with ten other people clustered around them, she’d felt magic again. And later, when everyone had gone and passion overcame them for a few precious, frightening moments . . .

  Her feelings terrified her. Loving Evan had always been crazy and doomed. Now he’d found his success, his life, in Manhattan. There was no hope for them as a couple. Besides, there was the perfect Cynthia.

  And Robin. Not to mention Dave. Why was she even thinking this way?

  Why in holy blue blazes was it so impossible to look at Evan and simply think “friend”? She managed it just fine with Dave, even after years of marriage and great sex.

  Nearing Bly Ranch, she slowed Conti to cool him down. She only wished she could cool her fevered brain.

  When she’d turned him out to pasture, she dashed into the house to say hello. In the kitchen, her mother gave her a quick, wet-handed hug, then went back to mixing the ingredients for meatloaf, her hips sashaying like a teen’s to a Patsy Cline song on the radio.

  In Robin’s room, she and her friend Kimiko were on the Internet and didn’t notice Jess as she stood in the doorway. Jess watched as her daughter busily clicked away amid a clutter of stuffed animals and posters ranging from Justin Bieber, dressed in black clothing way too cool for his age, to Elizabeth Taylor in National Velvet, a classic Dave had found for Rob’s last birthday.

  Now this was the definition of perfect. This beautiful, bright girl. Her and Dave’s. Keeping Robin safe and happy was the most important thing in the world.

  Choosing not to interrupt, Jess hurried out to the barn. No sign of her father, but his mare, Cadenza, who was Conti’s sister, was gone. She would have loved to saddle up Mystique, the filly she was training, and ride out to join her pa, but instead she went into the office in the barn. Settling behind the desk, she saw that her mom, who handled the bookkeeping, had paid a bunch of invoices and put aside a stack of mail that needed to be dealt with. Jess started going through the mail and had almost finished when she heard the sound of a vehicle. Her watch told her it was five o’clock.

  She hurried outside and greeted Dave with a quick hug. “I lost track of time. I hope the girls are ready.”

  “I’m in no hurry. Just as long as I don’t run into—”

  “You won’t. I’m picking him up at six.”

  Together they walked to the house, where Miriam Bly gave Dave a big hug and kiss. Then she handed him a knife and ordered him to slice apples for the pie she was making.

  Jess went to Robin’s room to roust the girls. As she had suspected, they were still tethered to the computer.

  “Your dad’s here,” she told Robin. “Time to go.”

  She hustled the girls downstairs, but proceedings stalled as her mother packed oatmeal cookies for Dave to take home, and for Kimiko, whose parents kept a busy schedule as owners of the only Japanese restaurant in town.

  “Drop Kimiko at home, then you two come back for supper,” Jess’s mother urged Dave. “You and Evan were classmates, after all.”

  A hiss escaped Jess, and Dave sent her a warning glance. “Thanks, Miriam, but I have plans for Rob tonight.”

  Finally, Jess gave Robin a last, especially tight hug and a big kiss, and waved until Dave’s truck was out of sight. She ran a hand through her hair, dusty from a day of riding, wondering if there was time for a shower.

  “Oh, Jessica,” her mother said, “when you go for Evan, would you pick up some vanilla ice cream? For the apple pie.”

  Jess sighed. “Sure. And I need to gas up the truck, too, so I’d better get a move on.” She’d hoped to look cool and collected; now she wasn’t even going to achieve clean.

  She did make it to Evan’s cabin on time, which she considered an accomplishment. Then he opened the door and she felt at a distinct disadvantage. He’d had the sense not to overdress, yet he looked wonderful in pressed khakis and a crisp white cotton shirt with open neck and rolled sleeves. Five days of sunshine had tanned skin that was by nature a bit dark, an inheritance from an Indo-American grandmother on his dad’s side. His tawny brown hair was acquiring golden highlights.

  He looked absolutely delicious and she wanted nothing more than to go into his arms for a long, slow hug and kiss. Not that he’d want to go anywhere near her grubby self. One touch, and dust would spoil his immaculate shirt.

  She glanced at his feet. Tan leather loafers, polished to a glossy sheen. A total contrast to her grungy cowboy boots. She suppre
ssed a sigh of regret. “Let’s get going. I’m running late.”

  “Sorry to add to your list of chores.”

  She glanced up again, saw his sincere smile, and suddenly felt better. “Oh, Ev, you’re not a chore. Come on, Mom’s been cooking up a storm.”

  Evan’s stomach growled, distracting him from thinking how cute, tousled, and sexy Jess looked. He remembered all the times he’d stuffed himself at the Bly kitchen table—then been sent home with a bag of leftovers, an unspoken acknowledgment that the cupboards at his own house were usually pretty bare.

  “I can’t wait,” he said, grabbing the cabin key and the paper bag containing a bottle of wine that he’d bought from the Crazy Horse bar.

  They climbed into her dusty truck and she drove down the gravel road toward the highway. Country and western music played on the radio and he remembered how he and Jess used to squabble over which station to listen to. Now, rather than joke about her taste in music, he needed to tell her about his relationship with Gianni. He reached for the knob and turned down the volume.

  He’d just opened his mouth when Jess said, “Ev, you know the subject of your mother might come up?”

  “I won’t be the one raising it.” Still, being so close to Caribou Crossing for the last few days, he’d thought of Brooke more than once. He couldn’t resist asking about her. Striving for a casual tone, he queried, “So what’s she up to? Still using the welfare checks to buy her beer?”

  Jess shook her head. “No beer, and she hasn’t been on welfare for years. Evan, you wouldn’t believe how Brooke’s pulled herself together. She works for Auntie Kate at her shop. The old Cut ’n’ Curl is now Beauty Is You, and it’s quite trendy. For Caribou Crossing, anyhow. Brooke’s great.”

  “Wow.” He tried to get his head around the idea of his mom not drinking, of her holding a real job. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Jess was joking. But she would never joke about Brooke.

  He tried to reconcile the picture she’d painted with the memories of his mother. “She did have a flair for that girly stuff when she wanted to,” he said slowly. “When she wasn’t . . . out of it. Sometimes she’d look so young and pretty.” He shook his head, remembering. “Then before long she’d hit The Gold Nugget Saloon, drink until she ran out of money. She’d come back home messed up. Wouldn’t comb her hair for days on end. Didn’t get out of her dressing gown, and sometimes not even out of bed.”