“No. We’re here now. May as well do this.”
He sounded angry so Erin said nothing more, realizing that pushing the issue too hard would humiliate him. Oh, well. He had to know what he was capable of. So she followed him as he rode around the large red barn where a tractor and baler were parked. Just where her father always had it.
Erin felt the pull of nostalgia and a thread of sorrow at the sight. Her life had been so crazy the past while that she felt as if she hadn’t even had time to mourn her father. To miss him. She thought again of the letter she had skimmed, vowing to read it more closely tonight.
Dean seemed to know where he was going so she was content to follow him past the yard and along the rail fence edging the winter pasture for the cows. A trail led from here into the trees and then up the hills toward a lookout point she rode to when she was younger.
Dean sat awkwardly in the saddle and Erin could see he was favoring his injured leg. Though she wanted to ask him if he wanted to quit she knew it would insult his pride. She’d seen a few flashes of that the past few days.
She watched him from behind as he slowly, imperceptibly seemed to relax. To sit back, his shoulders lowered, his hips centered, swaying gently with the horse.
The air was cooler in the shade of the trees, a whispering breeze scattering golden leaves on the path and on them. Soon the trees would be entirely orange and yellow, and the countdown to winter would begin. Erin couldn’t help a touch of sentimentality. She and her sisters had never been here through the fall. They’d spent that time back in Knoxville and as soon as they were old enough, they’d stopped coming back to the ranch.
Had their father missed them? They never knew because he never answered any of their letters or returned their phone calls.
How lonely it must have been for him here!
Erin shook off the gloomy thoughts, preferring to focus on this time here and now. To enjoy the silence, and, if she was honest with herself, some time with Dean away from the house.
They rode on, the thud of the horses’ hooves the only other sound in the gentle quiet. And as they did, Erin felt peace slowly wash over her. Finally they came to a place where the trail widened out and Dean pulled back for her to catch up to him.
“You doing okay?” he asked, glancing down at her feet as if making sure the stirrups she and Jodie had been fussing with were good.
“I’m just fine,” she said, giving him a cautious smile. She wanted to ask him the same, but if he wasn’t he wouldn’t say, and if he was she didn’t need to ask.
But from the tightness around his mouth, she guessed it was a struggle for him.
They rode for a while and finally Erin couldn’t stand it any longer. “Look, I’m sorry you got roped into this, if you’ll pardon the cowboy reference. I didn’t have anything to do with it. I just wanted to go riding, like I used to. I didn’t ask if you could come along.”
She shot him a concerned sidelong glance, but he kept his face resolutely ahead, as if he didn’t want to look at her.
“I’m sure this was Jodie’s idea,” she continued. “You riding with me.”
“Vic’s, too,” he said. “He called me at your house to tell me that Jodie needed some help. When I came here I found out this was what she wanted help with.” He kept his gaze fixed on the trail ahead, his eyes narrowed. She wanted him to look at her so she could read his expression better.
“I’m sorry this took you away from your work,” she added. She guessed he was angry or in a lot of pain. What she wished he would do was either get over it or admit it and stop. She preferred not to keep riding if he was going to be all annoyed or if his injury would get worse.
He shrugged, shifting in the saddle again, his jaw clenching.
“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, his tone terse. “Truth is, I was done and my boss Jan didn’t have any work for me on the job in Mercy. So it’s not like I’m out anything because of this.” He didn’t sound pleased. They rode along for a while longer, but Erin was far too aware of the tension in the air. This wasn’t how she had envisioned her ride so she pulled her horse to a stop.
“Look, again, I’m sorry you had to do this,” she said, struggling to keep the frustration out of her voice at her repeated apologies. “We should just go back or you can go back on your own and I can keep riding.”
He pulled up as well, his horse shaking his head at the sudden stop, bridle jangling. Dean just looked ahead, as if ignoring her, then finally he turned to face her.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice sounding rough. “I know I’m being a jerk. I know I have been a jerk the last few days. It’s just...” his voice trailed off and he winced, adjusting his seat and stretching out his one leg. Then he gave her an apologetic look. “This is the first time I’ve been on a horse since the accident.”
Erin could only stare at him, surprise and shock flowing through her. “You mean...you’re saying...”
“I’m saying I haven’t ridden since I got out of the hospital.”
“Because you can’t?”
Dean pressed his lips together, looking ahead again. “No. My physiotherapist encouraged me to ride.”
“Then why not?”
He said nothing for a moment, which made Erin even more curious.
“I haven’t because...” He paused, as if the words were too hard to get out.
But Erin waited, sensing he was on the cusp of something difficult. Something important.
He moved to one side, wincing, then shook his head lightly, as if shaking off an errant thought.
He finally looked directly at her, his hat tipped back so she could see his eyes, the sheen of sweat on his face she hadn’t noticed before.
“Because I’m afraid.”
Chapter Eight
His words echoed in the silence. He had never dared admit that to anyone before. To say the words aloud, to talk openly about his fear made him feel foolish and weak. But when he looked at Erin the only thing he saw was admiration.
“Are you afraid now?” she asked.
Dean squeezed his hands to stop the trembling and looked ahead again, drawing in a long, slow breath. “Not as much as when I started.”
It was pride pure and simple that got him to the ranch. When he’d found out what Jodie had wanted help with, his initial response was to outright refuse. Until she’d said she needed his help with Erin. His ego had taken a beating the past while with her and he couldn’t stand for it anymore. When Jan had called to offer him the job in Mercy he knew he was only doing it out of sympathy.
And he was tired of it. Tired of looking like the helpless ex-cowboy. Out of anger and frustration he’d agreed.
Trouble was, he didn’t know how hard it was going to be once he faced the horse. But Erin was there and Jodie was watching. It had been pride that got him awkwardly in the saddle and stubbornness that kept him mounted.
Thankfully neither Jodie nor Erin had to witness his ungainly and fearful clamber onto the horse. And even more important, Mickey had stood solid as a rock while his good foot scrabbled to find the stirrup, his heart thudding like a jackhammer in his chest.
He had hoped to do a few more circuits around the yard to ease the pounding in his heart, but Erin seemed to catch on very quickly. So he simply had to push on and hope the fear would die down. That and the pain that was like shards of glass in a leg unaccustomed to this position.
“So you haven’t ridden at all before this?”
“No. I tried to mount up a couple of times but just couldn’t make that final move.”
“Do you want to get off now? Rest for a few minutes? I’d like to check out Pigeon Point.”
“Pigeon Point? I’ve never heard it called that before.”
“My dad took us here once. To shoot clay pigeons.”
In spite of the pain shooting through his knee and the fear that still hovered, Dean had to smile. “Can’t imagine that.”
“I have a country side,” she returned. “So, you game?”
Dean nodded, but then realized if he got off, he would have to find a way to get back on again. Or run the risk of leading his horse all the way back to the ranch.
He was about to change his mind but Erin had already dismounted and was leading her horse to a nearby tree. So he slowly pulled his foot out of the stirrup, then rolled himself sideways and slid off the saddle, landing on his good leg, flinching when Mickey moved his feet as if impatient.
But nothing happened and his racing heart rate eased down again.
He stretched and tested his weight, thankful the pain was ebbing away. He was pleased it didn’t hurt more. Maybe his physiotherapist was right. He needed to ride again.
He led Mickey to a tree close to Roany and quickly tied him off.
Erin had pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and thumbed it on.
“Calling to check in?” he asked, a playful note in his voice.
“Yes, I am,” she said sounding somewhat defensive. “This is the first time I’ve been away from Caitlin and I know Jodie is my sister, but still—”
“I get it,” Dean said, flashing her an understanding smile. “I was just teasing you.”
Her mouth twitched, but she completed the call anyway. From what she was saying to her sister it sounded like all was well with her daughter. He walked away to give her some privacy.
A worn path led through an opening in the trees. He knew about this lookout point. Had ridden past it many times on his way to the far pasture to check on the cows. He’d never had the time to stop and look, but judging from the easily visible path, other people had.
He pushed through the underbrush and the land opened up and flowed away from him. The Saddlebank River spooled out below him a band of silver, flashing in the sun, flanked by clusters of trees that showed hints of the orange and yellow that would soon blaze from this valley.
He heard a rustling behind him and there was Erin, her hands shoved in the back pockets of her jeans, a smile playing over her face as she looked out over the valley.
“I forgot how beautiful it is here,” she said, a reverent tone in her voice. Then she eased out a sigh, lowering herself to the ground. “Do you mind if we sit awhile? If we’re going to be admitting stuff, my legs are sore, too.” She flashed him a smile, her hair bouncing on her shoulders, her eyes fringed with dark lashes drawing him in.
“I don’t mind.” Spending time with Erin held a bittersweet appeal. But as he clumsily sat down he was reminded again of his own weakness.
She pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around them, then glanced his way again. “I feel like I have to apologize yet again for my sister’s unwelcome intervention. I don’t think she realized—”
“That this ex–saddle bronc rider is afraid of horses?” He couldn’t keep the bitter tone out of his voice. “Wait until that gets out.”
She ducked her head and looked away and once again he felt like a heel for being so abrupt. He wanted to blame the throbbing in his leg, though it was easing away, or the relief he felt now that he’d survived his first time back on a horse. But there was more. A feeling of not knowing who he was anymore.
“I don’t think anyone would have guessed that,” she said, her voice quiet. “And I won’t say anything if you don’t.” Then she gave him a careful, sidelong glance and he recognized her gentle peace offering. A way of bridging a gap he had created.
“It’s just... I’ve wanted to be a saddle bronc rider as long as I could ride. I lived for the thrill, the challenge, the pitting of my skills against this out-of-control animal.” He leaned back against the tree behind him and stretched out his leg. “Sounds kind of shallow, but it was my life. Who I was.”
“I remember watching you that one summer,” she said, resting her chin on her knees as she looked out over the valley. “I thought you were good.”
Her praise warmed him more than it should.
“I never knew. I always got the impression that what I did was beneath you. That going to rodeos was for rednecks and cowboys.”
“You can’t live in Saddlebank and not go to the rodeo at least once,” she said with a grin. “My sisters convinced me I should go. You were competing that night and, well, I was impressed.”
“Really? I impressed you?” he asked.
“If you’re fishing for compliments, you already got one bite.” She shot him a sideways glance. Added a smile. Tucked her hair behind her ear.
The tilt of her head, the glint in her eye, the half smile made him wonder if she was flirting with him.
“So you must miss it?” she asked, her voice growing more serious.
“I do.” The simple statement didn’t cover the disappointment twisting his stomach at the idea that he couldn’t do the one thing that he thought defined him. “It was who I was. What I wanted to be. Everything I ever did was with the hope of competing at a higher level.”
“And the lifestyle? Do you miss that, too?”
Her question puzzled him. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Sorry. None of my business.”
He looked over at her, but her eyes were fixed on the valley below them. Yet something about the question she asked niggled other thoughts. Questions he’d had himself the past half year. Before his injury he’d been on the road more and more. Gone from the ranch. Riding over the weekends. Partying hard with his buddies.
His accident, however, had shifted his point of view. And thinking about his previous life, sitting beside the one person he’d always considered the epitome of goodness and kindness, pushed him even further down the path he’d started in the hospital room. When the doctor told him how long rehabilitation would take.
“Truth to tell, I don’t miss the overall lifestyle,” he said. “And looking back now, I knew how shallow it was. Lying in a hospital bed for an extended period tends to give a guy some perspective. I had time on my hands. And one of the things I thought about was something you said to me the last time I saw you. That summer you spent here in Saddlebank.”
She shot him a look of puzzlement. “What was that?”
“That I was headed down a one-way road to nowhere. That the journey would make me unhappy and unsatisfied.” He lifted his knee, resting his forearm on it as he fiddled with a piece of grass. “I think getting injured was a reality check and a chance to reassess my life. My girlfriend had broken up with me and for a while I blamed her. I blamed Vic. I blamed everyone. But then I thought of what you said and I got to look back over my life through your eyes. And I didn’t like what I saw.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, looking ahead. He wasn’t sure how to read her expression.
“Because I know what you thought of me then.” Dean knew he was exposing his deeper self. Things he’d hidden all these years under a blanket of swagger and tough talk. But she’d already seen him at his most vulnerable. Had heard about his fear and seen his helplessness. It bugged him and he hated admitting that, but he wanted her to know her opinion had mattered.
“I know I wasn’t good enough for you. You weren’t the only one who thought that. You were this sweet, caring person who was a strong Christian. I know I poked fun of that part of your life and I’m sorry.” He stopped, feeling again the shame that had dogged him the past few months since the time he’d begun reading his Bible again. Returning to the faith he had once mocked. He had his ups and downs and his moments of weakness, but he felt he was taking slow, uncertain steps back to his faith. “In spite of how I acted and how I treated you I think there was always a part of me that wanted to be worthy of you. I never really forgot you.”
There. It was out. Poor, lonely Dean. Always kee
ping a space in his heart for a girl who had never encouraged or shown him that he mattered to her as much as she had mattered to him.
“You should have” was all she said. “You should have put me right out of your head.”
She blinked and he was shocked to see a tear trickling down the side of her face. She quickly swiped it away, but it was too late.
“What’s wrong?” He moved closer, and gave in to the impulse he had felt previously and gently brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry if something I said bothered you.”
She had gone perfectly still and he thought he had gone too far, intruding too closely into her personal space.
But as her eyes met his a feeling of rightness permeated the atmosphere. That everything he had waited for and wanted at one time was right here. His breath quickened and he felt as if the world had narrowed down to this moment, this space. Just the two of them.
He let his finger trail down her cheek, easing away the tears that had drifted down.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, the words slipping past old barriers that didn’t seem as necessary as they once were. “You always were.”
“Why...why did you always ask me out?”
Her unexpected question set him back, but he recognized her attempt to bridge the then and now.
Well, he had started this. May as well take the full plunge into humility.
“Like I said, even though I was a jerk, a part of me always appreciated your faith. I know many of the girls I dated weren’t the kind of girl I would bring to see my mom. But you were. You had a sweetness that intrigued me. A goodness that, whether I wanted to admit it or not, was something I wanted in my life. I just thought I was too cool to try. But you...” He paused, cupping her face in his hand, his thumb caressing her chin, surprised that she allowed him to do this. “You were special. Pure.”
Even as he spoke the words he realized how they might sound to her, given that she had come to Saddlebank with a baby. Yet, he still meant them.
Her eyes locked on his, and her hand came up and gently covered his, pressing his hand against her face.
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