by Carol Cox
“I–I’m just going to get my horse,” she stammered, hating the way her voice quavered. She turned and started toward Dancer’s stall, both relieved and disappointed when Tom didn’t follow.
Slipping the bridle over Dancer’s head, Lizzie paused a moment with her arms around the gelding’s neck, pressing her face against his warmth. Here, the familiar smell of horse, straw, and grain soothed her jangled nerves, and she breathed deeply, steadying herself.
When she led Dancer back down the aisle, Tom was waiting, lounging against the wall. And when she tied Dancer and started to brush him, Tom grabbed another brush and began working on the other side. Lizzie swallowed, trying to maintain her composure. What was it about Tom that made his nearness so unsettling?
Lizzie turned to reach for Dancer’s saddle blanket, but Tom moved past her and got to the rack first. “This one?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
Lizzie nodded dumbly. Tom settled the blanket on Dancer’s back, adjusting it for the horse’s comfort, then turned back to Lizzie. “Which saddle is yours?” he asked. Lizzie pointed and watched as he swung it smoothly into place, wondering at the constriction in her chest.
Finding her voice at last, Lizzie stepped forward and took hold of the cinch strap. “Thank you, but I’ve been doing this for most of my life,” she said. “I really don’t need any help.” Her fingers responded like blocks of wood as she tried to thread the strap through the cinch ring, refusing to respond with their usual competence. She ground her teeth, wishing with all her heart that she didn’t feel like a gawky twelve-year-old every time this man came near.
Tom smiled and stepped back, seeming to take no offense. He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and watched quietly as Lizzie completed her preparations, giving Dancer’s glossy black mane a final brush, adjusting the bridle, and checking the cinch once more because Dancer had a habit of puffing up when he was first saddled.
Lizzie grasped the reins under Dancer’s chin and turned to lead him outside. Tom stepped back slightly, but not enough to allow her to pass without practically brushing against him. Lizzie timidly tilted her chin to look up at him, feeling spots of color rise in her cheeks as he held her gaze. They stood there, not moving, as though the moment was frozen in time.
Lizzie was vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps approaching the barn, sounding on the doorstep. The steps paused, stopped. Then the door slammed shut with a crash, jolting her out of her trance. She sprang forward, dragging Dancer, avoiding Tom’s amused gaze.
Bert swung open the door, which now hung slightly out of kilter. “What’d you say to Adam, Lizzie?” he asked.
“N-nothing,” she stammered, feeling herself blush furiously. “I didn’t say a word.”
Bert stared back over his shoulder across the corrals. “Wonder what got into him, then. He slammed the door and took off looking like a thundercloud.”
“I really have no idea,” Lizzie murmured. She hurriedly led Dancer from the barn, mounted, and set off, with Tom’s low chuckle echoing in her ears.
six
The recent rains settled the dust and lent a clean freshness to the air. Lizzie breathed deeply, savoring the scent of grass, sage, and cedar. Little by little, she felt as though she were regaining her equilibrium. She closed her eyes, simply enjoying the sensation of moving as one with Dancer’s rolling gait.
Opening her eyes, she took in the vast landscape that had surrounded her for most of her life. To some, she supposed, the open grassland and cedar-studded hills punctuated by mountains in the distance might seem lonely, even barren. But Lizzie saw only the beauty, the wide expanse inviting her to measure up to her surroundings.
It was a perfect summer day. Heavy white clouds cast purple shadows, shielding her from the sun’s heat. A light breeze stirred, bending the heads of the grasses. Lord, when You created this land, You made it a very special place. Thank You for putting me here.
Her thoughts turned to a verse she had read that morning. Ever since her conversation with Judith, Lizzie tried to spend time each day reading her Bible, instead of being satisfied with her typically sporadic efforts. If God had plans for her life, she reasoned, surely she should make an effort to know more about Him and His wonderful promises.
She had begun reading the book of Psalms. Remembering the book was supposed to contain a great many promises, she decided it was the perfect place to begin her search. That morning, the fourth verse of Psalm 37 had fairly leaped off the page. “Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.” She caught her breath even now at the memory of how the words seemed to have been intended just for her.
Lord, You really do care about me, don’t You? She hugged the precious knowledge to herself with a sense of wonder. It was easy to break into conversation with the Lord out here, away from the bustle of the ranch headquarters.
Tentatively she began again, speaking aloud this time. “Father, I really need to know what You think about my feelings for Tom. When I’m around him, he makes me feel special. Nervous, maybe, but special, too.
“I look at how Mama and Papa love each other and love You. Uncle Jeff and Aunt Judith are the same way. That’s the kind of marriage I want to have, with someone who will love me like that.”
She reined Dancer to the right to avoid some prairie dog holes, knowing the area beneath them would be honeycombed with tunnels and could cave in under Dancer’s weight. The holes, she reflected, were like a sign pointing out an area of possible danger. That’s what I need from God, she thought. Something to show me which way is safe, and where the danger lies.
“Lord,” she prayed, “You said in Your Word that You’d direct my paths. I need You to show me the right path now. The feelings I have for Tom feel so natural, so right. If he truly is the one You’ve chosen for me, then show me. Show my family, show Tom, show everyone that this is Your will. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Feeling a renewed sense of hope, Lizzie touched Dancer’s sides lightly with her heels and the buckskin loped across the range. The wind whipped at her face, blowing away the clouds of confusion and doubt and leaving peace in their place.
The sun emerged from behind the clouds and Lizzie, her eyes dazzled by the sudden brilliance, pulled Dancer back down to a trot, then a walk. It wouldn’t do to guide him over hazardous ground while she was unable to see clearly. Dancer walked on contentedly, seeming happy with the slower gait after his brief run.
A rider appeared, merely a speck in the distance. Still trying to adjust to the sun’s intensity, Lizzie found it impossible to tell who it was. Dancer’s step never faltered, but Lizzie felt unaccountably nervous. She had never before felt uneasy about riding alone on the Bradley range, but she knew the Double B riders should all be occupied elsewhere.
She glanced around. The grassy plain afforded no hiding place, and she was certain the rider must have already seen her. The only possible place of concealment was a clump of cedars a short distance to the north. I’ll just have to brazen it out, she decided.
Lizzie squared her shoulders, then leaned forward to pat Dancer on the neck. “We’ll be okay, won’t we, Dancer? You’re all loosened up now, and you can run like the wind to get us home safely if you need to.”
The rider raised an arm and waved in her direction. Lizzie’s stomach tightened into a knot. Determined not to show fear, she timidly raised her hand in return. At that, the rider broke into a lope, heading straight toward her.
Lizzie’s knees tightened against Dancer, prepared for flight if necessary. As the other horse drew near, she squinted against the sun’s glare, trying to make out the rider’s identity.
“Lizzie!” The voice sounded reassuringly familiar, and Lizzie realized with delight that it was Tom. A wave of relief washed over her, and every one of her muscles seemed to go slack. She pulled herself together with an effort, telling herself sternly that this time she would make a better showing with Tom. This time she would behave as an adult, not a clumsy, fumbling child who d
eserved Tom’s amusement.
Tom cantered up, pulling his mount to a sliding stop at Dancer’s side. “Well, hello there.” He grinned, and sparks of blue fire seemed to shoot out of those amazing eyes.
Lizzie, one hand pressed to her throat, was unable to answer. She scolded herself. Was she never going to act like a mature woman around this man?
“You look a little tired,” Tom told her. The words were solicitous, but laughter glinted in his eyes, and Lizzie had the feeling he knew exactly how his presence affected her.
“I’m all right,” she said. “I just needed to catch my breath.”
“Uh-huh,” he replied dryly. Lizzie shot a sidelong glance at him, but his expression was innocent. Too innocent, she thought. She had spent too many years around Willie not to recognize the signs.
Tom swung his horse around to walk beside Dancer. “You heading anywhere in particular?”
Lizzie shook her head. “Just riding. I haven’t been over this way in a while.”
They rode for several minutes before Tom broke the silence. “Getting a little hot, isn’t it?” He pulled out his bandanna and wiped the back of his neck.
Lizzie thought the day was surprisingly pleasant, but then, she’d only been out for a casual ride. She didn’t know how quickly Tom had covered the distance between the ranch and here. Maybe he was hot, she told herself.
“How about taking a rest in those cedars?” he asked suddenly. “I could use some shade, and I wouldn’t mind some pretty company to go with it.”
Lizzie hesitated, wondering if that was wise. Grow up, she told herself impatiently. You don’t want him to think you’re a baby, do you? “All right,” she said softly. “Just for a little while.”
Tom’s horse led the way into the cedar grove. The trees rose thirty feet above them, spreading their limbs to form a sheltering canopy. It’s almost like entering another world, Lizzie thought. The welcome shade both refreshed and protected them, screening them from the view of anyone outside while allowing them to see out quite clearly.
In silence, Tom helped Lizzie dismount. Accustomed to fending for herself, she was unused to this kind of attention, and the warmth of his hands at her waist threatened to unnerve her completely. She clamped her lower lip between her teeth as he ground-tied the horses, wondering if she had made a grievous mistake.
Tom led Lizzie to a fallen log and seated her upon it with a gallant bow, then took his own seat on the ground nearby. Lizzie fidgeted nervously, twisting her hands together and keeping her eyes fixed on the toes of her boots. What was she thinking of, putting herself in a situation like this? She did nothing but look like an absolute fool every time she was around Tom, and this time would be no different. She might just as well get on Dancer and—
“Lizzie,” Tom spoke softly, his voice caressing her name.
She raised her gaze as far as his top shirt button, unwilling to meet his eyes.
“Lizzie, look up. Look at me,” he said.
Slowly, reluctantly, she obeyed. His eyes glowed an even deeper blue than usual. Unable to tear her gaze away, she stared back, her heart beating wildly.
“I’m glad I saw you,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you alone ever since I met you.”
“You—you have?” Lizzie’s voice came out in a timid squeak.
His smile made her shiver inside. “Is there something I do that makes you nervous? You seem skittish every time I come around.”
Lizzie groped for the right words to say. Yes, he made her nervous. Yes, she totally lost her composure whenever he was near. But she could never admit that to him!
She managed a weak smile. “I’m fine,” she said, not altogether truthfully. “I’m glad you came along too.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she was appalled at her boldness.
To her relief, Tom seemed to accept her answer and he leaned back, relaxed. “That’s good,” he said, and added, “Are you hungry? I’ve got some lunch in my saddlebags.”
Lizzie nodded. “I could eat something,” she admitted. She watched Tom carry his saddlebags to the log and unpack a blanket and several packets of food. Spreading the blanket before her, he set out ample quantities of bread, cheese, and fried chicken. Lizzie looked at the food, realizing it was more than one cowboy, even a hungry one, would bring along just for himself. Her heart beat faster, and she wondered if this meeting might not have been accidental after all.
Tom sat cross-legged at the far edge of the blanket, and after a moment’s hesitation, Lizzie slid off the log and sat on the ground facing him. She bit into a drumstick, trying to pretend they were on an outing her parents knew about and approved of.
“Tell me about yourself,” she ventured, surprising herself again.
Tom looked pleased at this sign of interest. “There’s not a lot to tell,” he began. “I was born in east Texas. My pa died of cholera, and my ma ran off with a dry goods drummer when I was twelve. I’ve been on my own ever since.”
Lizzie gaped, trying to imagine what it must have been like. “How awful!” she exclaimed. “How did you manage?”
“I hired out to a neighbor at first, wrangling horses. Then I went to Fort Worth and trailed a herd over to Chisum’s ranch. One time or another, I’ve done a little bit of most everything. I’ve met a lot of people and seen a lot of country while I was doing it. Now I’m here,” he drawled, his eyes glinting at Lizzie. “And it’s a mighty pretty place to be.”
Lizzie blushed furiously, warning herself not to take his words personally.
“What about you?” Tom asked.
“Me?” She stared at him blankly.
“I know you’re the boss’s daughter. I know that you go out riding nearly every day, and that you’ve got the prettiest gold hair I ever laid eyes on, but that’s all I know. I want to know more.” He leaned toward her intently. “Lots more.”
Lizzie crumbled some cheese between her fingers and racked her brain for something, anything to say that would begin to equal Tom’s colorful life. By comparison, her own experiences, which up to now had filled her with such contentment, seemed flat and dull.
“Well,” she began, “I was born in Texas, too, but we came here when I was eight, so I’ve lived here most of my life. I’ve spent a lot of time riding, and doing things with my brother, but I’ve never been much of anywhere except for one trip back East when I was a little girl. I guess there isn’t much to tell,” she concluded wistfully.
Tom regarded her thoughtfully. “I think there’s a lot more than you know,” he said. “And I intend to find out what it is.” His voice, warm and husky, melted her nervousness like the snows in spring.
She realized with a start of surprise that, for the first time, she felt comfortable in his presence. Tom stretched out, propping himself up on one elbow, and Lizzie leaned back against the log, enjoying the companionable silence and watching the canopy of branches overhead sway in the wind.
Why have I been so nervous around him? Right now I feel like I’ve known him all my life. With a burst of energy accompanying this realization, Lizzie got to her feet and began clearing away their picnic, shaking out the blanket and folding it ready to be packed away. Tom stood, too, and took the blanket from her. Their fingers met and Lizzie felt the tingling sensation that sometimes came with a lightning storm. Tom opened his mouth as if to speak, but at that moment both Dancer and Tom’s horse threw up their heads and whinnied, their ears pointing toward the south.
Tom instantly looked in that direction and stiffened. “Someone’s coming,” he said in a low voice. “Stay here while I go out to meet ’em. If they don’t get too close, they’ll never know you’re here.” He shoved the blanket and food wrappings into his saddlebags, threw them on his horse, and mounted. Gathering the reins, he turned to Lizzie and said, “Thank you. It isn’t often I get to spend time in the company of a fascinating woman.” He touched his horse with his heels, and Lizzie was left alone.
She watched as he trotted out
to meet the newcomer, who she now recognized as Bert. The two men talked for a moment, then rode off together.
Lizzie watched their retreating figures, pressing her fingertips to her lips and reflecting on the way Tom had kept her presence a secret. The simple, chivalrous gesture touched her deeply.
She looked around the place where they had eaten, committing every detail of their time together to memory. How much had changed in that short time!
When she judged enough time had passed, she went to get Dancer. Holding the reins in her hand, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Father, thank You for hearing my prayer and giving me this sign. Please keep on showing me the way.”
seven
Lizzie stood with her face only inches away from her bedroom mirror, looking intently at the girl who stared back at her. Large gray eyes fringed by dense lashes widened as she realized with a sense of wonder that not an ounce of baby fat remained on the delicate oval face. Her fingertips lightly traced the reflection from the curve of the brow to the small but determined chin.
Stepping back, she could see her fair hair, loosened for the night, cascading past her shoulders like a waterfall. She brushed the golden waves behind her shoulders and looked critically at her camisole-clad figure. When had she developed that trim waistline? And there were curves evident when she looked at her profile that she hadn’t noticed before.
She caught her breath in a ragged gasp. It’s true. I’m not a little girl any longer. I’m a woman—a “fascinating” woman, she thought, hearing Tom’s remark again in her memory. Flinging her arms wide, she exuberantly spun around her room, delighting in her discovery.
She changed quickly into her nightdress, blew out the lamp, and slipped between the sheets, hugging the newfound knowledge to her in the darkness.
An hour later, sleep still had not come. Rising, Lizzie pulled on her robe and stole barefoot down the corridor and into the courtyard.
