by Dahlia West
“No, everything’s fine.”
“Well now, that’s not true. That’s one of those little white lies you tell, like you always do, and I let you get away with it, I guess because dwelling on a thing doesn’t do anybody any good. But Rowan, those little white lies don’t stay white. You know that, don’t you? They turn black inside you.”
Rowan hated lying to him, but it was second nature now that she’d been doing it for so many years. “It’s nothing.”
He gave her a harsh look.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Wouldn’t have anything to do with the house, would it?” he asked quietly.
“What? No, there’s nothing wrong with the house.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Really? Even the fact that it’s a hop, skip, and a jump from the Barlow spread?”
Rowan stared at him. “I don’t…what are you saying, Dad?” She cleared her throat, nervously. “Because Court and I broke up a long time ago. You know that.”
“You can’t sever a connection like that,” he told her. “It can’t be done. Not really, not entirely.”
“Dad…”
“I’m not digging into your life, Rowan. I wouldn’t do that. I didn’t do it back then, not even when Willow took more after her daddy in the looks department than I’d have liked.”
Rowan blinked at him suddenly, unable to speak.
“You didn’t want to have anything to do with him, and I respected that. And I didn’t ask you about him because it seemed your mind was made up and there didn’t seem to be anything to say on the matter,” he continued.
“I… I can’t believe you knew. You knew this whole time.”
“Well, I’m not blind, Rowan. And I’m not stupid, even if I did a poor job of raising you and your sister.” He sighed. “Your situation is mostly my fault.”
Rowan spluttered at the declaration. “I…what?…how is it your fault?”
“Honey, I didn’t know what to do. With two girls, and your mom gone, I was just…I was unequipped for the job. I thought…I thought if I just raised you, taught you ranching, that would be enough. I guess I taught you too well.”
“Dad,” she argued. There was no way she could let him take the blame for this.
“But I scared you. I taught you about predators and how to protect yourself. But I said wolves and cougars and bears, Rowan, not farm boys. It’s my fault for not teaching you to stand up to him, to make him share responsibility. You ran from him, to protect your little girl, and I taught you that. Or, at least, I didn’t teach you any better.”
“Dad, none of this is your fault. Or mine,” she told him, though she wasn’t quite sure about the last part, not as sure as she had been for the last four and a half years. There was some truth to what he’d said, that she’d chosen to run away rather than stay and fight. Maybe it had been because deep down Rowan had known that she would’ve lost, no matter what the outcome had been. And Willow would’ve lost, too.
“I’m staying,” she told him, wishing, though, that her good news hadn’t been tempered by this conversation. “Court knows the truth now, anyway. He’s seen Willow. I wasn’t going to be able to hide her forever.”
“Oh, Rowan. I don’t want you to have to come back. Not for me. I’m fine. I’m already getting out of here in a few days. You have a life in Cheyenne.”
Rowan shook her head. “No, I don’t. It’s not a life, Dad. Not without you, and Emma, and the farm.”
Just then the door to the room opened and Willow happily scrambled inside, the remains of a candy bar smeared across her lips. “Hi, Pop-Pop! D’you want some chocolate?”
Dad laughed, and Rowan was grateful that the tension in the room had lifted. “No, honey, I can’t. I’m pretty sure chocolate might be on that list of things the doctors were telling me I can’t have anymore. How about you take a bite for both of us?”
“Baby,” said Rowan, “I…I was just telling Pop-Pop that you and I are going to move here, to Star Valley.”
Willow looked up at her, round mouthed, wide eyed.
“Would you like that?” Rowan asked. “Would you like to live at the farm? With Pop-Pop and the dogs? And see Aunt Emma and Uncle Troy every week?”
“Can I sleep in the barn?!”
Rowan laughed. “No, baby, you can’t sleep in the barn. You’ll sleep in the room you’re in now.”
“Can the dogs sleep in my room, too? And can I have a pony? And a bunny? And can I…?”
And just like that, Rowan knew she’d made the right decision. However difficult things were sure to be with Court, she was tired of being exiled to Cheyenne, cut off from her family and the place where she’d always been happiest. She was over Court, but Dad was right, he’d never be entirely out of her life, and she was going to have to figure out a way to live with that.
The rest of the visit went well, and they had to be ushered out of the room when visiting hours were over. Emma headed home, while Rowan and Willow drove back to the farm. Rowan was surprised to see a now-familiar truck in the driveway when she pulled up to the house.
She let Willow out of the backseat of the car and trudged through the mud up to the driver’s-side window and peered in. “What are you doing?” she asked Seth.
He smiled sheepishly at her. “Right now or in general?”
She glanced around at the dogs who were yipping wildly at her feet.
“I was worried I might lose a limb,” he told her as she shooed them away. “They seem to remember me from yesterday. And they’re holding it against me.” His gaze darkened a bit as he looked past Rowan. “I see they aren’t the only ones.”
She turned to see Willow stomping through the mud, toward the truck. The scowl on the little girl’s face was unmistakable. She stopped at Rowan’s hip and leaned against her. “You fought with Mama.”
Seth must have deemed it safe to get out, because he swung open the door and put his two large booted feet on the ground.
“No, baby,” said Rowan as he emerged. “No, we were just talking loudly.”
Willow didn’t look like she believed that. She eyed Seth warily as he stood before her.
Seth squatted down in front of her, prompting the dogs to move a bit closer but Rowan shooed them away again. “Honey,” he said to Willow, “I’d never, ever fight with your Mama. Not ever.”
Willow chewed her lower lip.
Seth smiled, which seemed to ease her fears a little, which wasn’t surprising since, Rowan noted, it had the same effect on herself. “Willow,” he said while tipping his hat. “I give you my word as a Vaquero. I would never raise my voice to your Mama.”
Willow’s face scrunched up. “What’s that?”
“A Vaquero? It’s a special kind of cowboy. All the way from Mexico, in my case. Do you know where that is?”
Willow shook her head. “Is it near Cheyenne?”
Rowan and Seth both laughed.
“No, honey,” he replied. “It’s a bit farther away than that.” He stood up, turned, and opened the metal side bin in the bed of his Ford. He pulled out a thick, heavy rope and held it out to Willow. “We use special ropes,” he said. “And we have special ways to ride horses, and herd cows, and we have a special language, too. But I confess, darlin’, I’ve forgotten a lot of it these days.”
Willow took the rope and inspected it closely. “Pretty,” she declared. “Like mama’s hair when she braids it.
Seth glanced at Rowan. “Well,” he drawled. “I’ve never seen your Mama’s hair braided, but I bet it is pretty.”
Rowan quickly looked away from Seth, and he did the same, clearing his throat. “You can have that one,” he said to Willow.
“Really?”
“Seth, no,” Rowan told him, thinking of the feed, which she still hadn’t paid him for. “That’s…that’s too much.”
He shrugged and waved his hand. “It’s old,” he said. “I’ll make another. It’s no bother.”
“Seth,” she atte
mpted to argue.
“It’s worn, Rowan. I’ve been needing a new one, anyway.”
Rowan was reminded of the gloves she’d found in his pocket, worn, too, and beyond repair. “I have your jacket,” she said. “I’ll get it for you. And your check.”
“I forgot a feed bag,” he told her striding to the bed of the truck. “It was dark and it was hiding underneath one of Dakota’s bags. She’d kill me if I accidentally fed it to her horses.”
Rowan felt a bit deflated at the mention of Dakota’s name. She knew Dakota Vasquez, or of her, at least. Dakota was behind Rowan in school, and they’d never been friends. Rowan recalled a fiery, dark-haired girl, a beautiful girl, one who’d commanded attention. Dakota was younger than Rowan, but Rowan knew the woman lived at Snake River. It made sense that Dakota and Seth be together.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to make Dakota mad,” Rowan declared, stepping out of the way. Especially not by looking at Seth, which I have absolutely no business doing, she thought. “I’ll get your jacket.”
She left Willow trying to rope the dogs and headed into the house, where everything seemed familiar, safer, less confusing. The check was where she’d left it on the counter, so she palmed it and headed back to the front door, where Seth’s fleece-lined denim jacket was hanging next to her nylon one. Best to give him both and send him on his way.
Though she was going to miss the jacket.
She reached for it but froze when she heard a loud rumbling coming from outside. She sidestepped the coat rack and drew back the curtains covering the living room window. A large truck, pulling a larger trailer, came hurtling up the drive. As Rowan peered closer, she got a fleeting glimpse of Court behind the wheel.
“God damn it,” she muttered and spun toward the front door.
She threw it open and scrambled down the steps. Willow, thankfully, was out of the way. Seth, Rowan noticed, had moved in front of the girl to protect her from his idiot younger brother chewing up the gravel driveway in the wake of his snow tires.
Rowan arrived at Seth’s side, out of breath and patience.
“You can bite that one,” Seth said to Kinka in a voice that Kinka might have understood since it was a growl very like the dog’s own.
Rowan sighed. “He’s not really an attack dog.”
“Too bad,” Seth muttered as they watched Court climb down from the truck’s cab.
In the sunlight, Court seemed made of gold, with his golden-brown skin and his dark hair streaked with sun-bleached highlights. Even his teeth glittered when he smiled.
Rowan was struck by the fact that…she wasn’t struck anymore. She wasn’t swayed in the least these days by the facade of the hard-muscled Vaquero lumbering toward the trailer. Court Barlow was a snake in the grass with a silver (though forked) tongue and hypnotic dark eyes. And Rowan had been bitten too many times.
“I brought you a horse!” he called out to Willow, who stopped trying to lasso Kinka and suddenly squealed loudly.
“Sonofabitch,” Seth muttered beside Rowan.
Rowan’s stomach lurched. “Oh God.”
Chapter Thirteen
‡
Seth wished they were alone so he could argue with her as he watched Rowan press a folded check into the palm of his hand. Surely she had other, more important expenses right now. She skirted past him and swooped up Willow into her arms.
Several feet away, Court threw the trailer gate open.
“Christ,” Seth muttered, as the horse that bolted out from the steel enclosure wasn’t even BlackJack, Court’s own horse. It was barely even a horse at this point. It was a filly, barely more than a foal herself, and one of Dakota’s, in fact. And Seth would bet the farm that she had no idea one of her precious charges had been whisked away. Especially since this one didn’t seem to be taking too well to trailering in general. It was a small miracle she hadn’t gotten hurt during the ride. She pranced, eyes wild, head tossing every which way as Court struggled to hold onto her.
She was pretty, though, Seth would admit. She had a dark-brown coat and a long, flowing black mane. She wasn’t trained, though, not even green broke. Leave it to Court to think he could charm every female he came across with just his wide smile and a few well-timed winks.
Seth looked at Rowan and was silently relieved to see she wasn’t buying into it. She held Willow close to her chest while glaring at Court.
“A pony!” Willow cried.
“It’s not a pony,” Seth replied, more to Court than to the girl. “It’s a yearling. One of Dakota’s horses. She’s rough stock, Court. Willow can’t ride her. Does Dakota even know you have her?”
Court shrugged, never losing the smile. “I’ll take her right back.”
“Can I pet her?” Willow asked.
Court tried to bring the yearling closer, but she spooked and spun in a circle. He tried a second time, and a third, and Seth thought it served him right for doing such a stupid, thoughtless thing, but then he looked at Willow, who was getting more and more disappointed.
Seth sighed. “All right, honey. Just a second.” He pocketed Rowan’s check and stepped forward, approaching the skittish colt calmly with his hands wide. “Hey, now,” he said quietly. “It’s okay.”
She turned to look at him and pranced a few more steps, but nickered in recognition.
Seth reached out slowly and rubbed her shoulder, then her neck, moving his hand in large, slow circles until he reached her cheek and snagged the halter securely. She threw her head a bit again, but he brought up his other hand and rubbed her muzzle. “There, now,” he whispered. “There, now.”
She took a few deep breaths, nostrils flaring wide, but the fiery look finally dampened a bit in her eyes. In just a few moments, Seth had her standing firmly, all four hooves on packed gravel. “Okay,” he said a little louder but didn’t take his eyes off the horse. “You can pet her now.”
Rowan brought Willow forward, perched on her hip.
Willow stared from Seth to the horse and back again as her small hand touched the velvet muzzle.
Seth grinned. “It’s not magic, honey,” he assured her. “I just see her every day. She knows me.”
“So soft,” Willow whispered. “Can I keep her?”
Seth shook his head before Court could answer. “No, honey. She belongs to a friend of mine.”
“But I thought you might like to pet her,” Court chimed in. “Your mama used to ride horses.”
Seth looked at Rowan. “I forgot about that.”
A sad look passed over Rowan’s face, but she shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Not for a long time,” she replied. “I sold my saddle to pay for books one semester.”
Court took a step forward, almost spooking the horse. “You can come ride my horse, Rowan.”
And though the offer actually sounded sincere enough, Rowan shot a harsh look at him. “I’m not going to ride your anything, Court.”
“Can I ride your horse?” Willow asked.
“No,” Seth and Rowan said at the same time.
The little girl’s lower lip quivered.
“He’s a bit feisty,” Seth explained. “He’s a roping horse, and he’s used to going fast. Very fast. And he’s a touch excitable.” Just like his owner, Seth thought darkly.
“That’s enough for today,” Rowan declared, moving away with Willow in her arms.
“Aw, Mama!”
Rowan shook her head, though. “Tell Court ‘Thank You’ for bringing her over.”
Willow brightened, and Court returned the grin. “Thanks, Court!”
“Well, now, you know, you can call me—”
“Court,” Rowan said sharply. “Not right now.”
Court frowned like he was going to argue, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. “Okay, then darlin’,” he said to Willow. “I’ve got to get her on home now. But you can come by my ranch and see her again sometime.”
Willow’s eyes lit up. “Can we, Mama?!”
Rowan licked her lips and looked f
or all the world like she wanted to say no, but her heart seemed to melt anyway as she looked at her daughter. “Yes,” she finally said.
“Yay!”
“We can go. Sometime. And you can look at all the horses.”
As Court loaded the jittery colt back into the trailer, Rowan moved several feet away, put Willow down on her feet, and nodded toward the house. “Okay,” she said. “Go on inside and wash up for dinner.”
Willow turned and stomped gleefully across the driveway, one of the shaggy white dogs trailing along behind her.
Seth watched Rowan sigh and rub the back of her neck, like she had a crick in it, like she was stressed. Which of course she was. Seth fought the urge to reach out and rub it for her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea he was planning on doing that.”
Rowan looked up at him with sad, tired eyes. “I don’t think it’s possible to predict what Court will do. Except get bored, eventually, with playing the hero. What happens when she’s not new and shiny anymore, Seth? What happens when things get hard?”
It was hard to assure her that that wouldn’t happen, especially since Seth knew she was speaking from personal experience. Usually it was just irritating to clean up Court’s messes. It was heartbreaking to see them involve actual people this time. “I won’t let him hurt her,” Seth vowed.
Or you.
Rowan didn’t reply. Instead, she just watched him pull back out onto the highway.
Seth’s phone rang, and he dug it out of his pocket, glancing down at it. Sighing, he pressed the button on the screen. “Calm down,” he told Dakota before she got too far into her rant. “Court took her. He’s brought her out to the Archer place. Dakota, I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to her. I promise. Anyway, she’s back in the trailer. He’s headed back home with her.” Seth sighed again. “No, honey, I had nothing to do with it. I wouldn’t do that to you. And if you string him up when he gets home, I won’t cut him down.” He hung up and slid the phone back into his pocket, aware that Rowan was looking at him.
“Sorry,” she said, “if you’re in dutch with Dakota. She sounds royally pissed.” Rowan cleared her throat and turned to watch Court drive away. “Is she…is she your girlfriend?” she asked and she must have meant Seth because Court was gone.
