A Love of Her Own

by Maggie Brendan

  April smiled at Billy. “You know what I think, Billy? I think you’re a pretty bright young man. I’m truly sorry for whatever happened to your parents.”

  Billy looked straight ahead at the dirt road. “Aw, I’ll make it— been taking care of myself since I was ten years old. My parents died young. A horse threw my father and he broke his neck. My mama took sick not long after. It seemed like she just couldn’t bear losing my father. She passed away a year later.”

  April felt a pang in her heart as she listened to him talk. “Couldn’t a relative have taken you in?”

  “Only relatives I have live back in Nebraska. I didn’t have no way to get back there and didn’t really want to. I just found odd jobs here and there and slept in the stables for one of the men I worked for. But I did okay, till Ruby up and died on me. That’s why I figured I’d just leave for a new town when I met you and Dr. Barnum that day.” He sighed. “So far, it’s worked out. I have a job and a place to sleep.”

  April was quiet for a minute, suddenly realizing she had no idea what it was like to go to bed hungry or not know where you would lay your head at night. It was a reminder to give the Christian charity the preacher had talked about this morning. “Billy, I’m sorry. You’re so young to have to support yourself. Maybe I could take you back with me to Colorado when I go. I know my dad would hire you.”

  “That’s so nice of you, but don’t feel sorry for me, Miss April. I kinda like it here, don’t you?”

  “It’s all right, I guess, but there’s no place more beautiful than Colorado.”

  Billy tipped his head, looked her square in the eye, and said, “My mama always said that God created beauty everywhere. Besides, a place can’t love you back no matter how pretty, only people can do that.”

  “Hmm . . . I’ve never thought of it that way before. You may be right, though I can’t imagine living anywhere but Colorado.”

  Billy pulled back on the reins, slowing his horse. April stopped and turned around. “Something wrong?”

  Billy slid down off his horse before answering. “Star’s limping all of a sudden. I need to check out her foot.”

  April dismounted and stood holding her reins as Billy lifted Star’s front hoof. “Hmm, she’s got a pretty bad cut—must’ve picked up a sharp rock or something. Tell you what, I’m going back to take care of her. No need for me to be riding her like this.”

  April examined the hoof. “Yes, I can see you’re right. I can find my own way over to Wes’s ranch.”

  Billy turned Star in the direction of town to walk her back. “When you come to the end of this road, go through the meadow a ways to a path on the right. Take that trail to his place. A sign that says ‘The Rusty Spur’ hangs over the gate. You sure you don’t mind going alone?”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m used to roaming the countryside alone.” April grasped the saddle horn and pulled herself back into the saddle. With a clicking sound to Gus, she trotted across the tall grass. Brilliant blue asters dotted the meadow, and against nearby rocks, evening primroses still bloomed freely.

  She loved being alone on the back of a horse, the wind in her hair and the power of the horse underneath. Not that she minded having Billy along, but this was real freedom. Soon she came to the trail, which was barely more than a path, so she slowed Gus to a walk. It was thickly covered with hanging tree limbs and underbrush, and she picked her way carefully, pushing aside the hanging branches to avoid being stung in the face. Wes must not have too many visitors . . . Maybe she should’ve waited for Billy to be able to come with her after all.

  It was much cooler under the thick canopy of spruce and pines mingled with the pungent smell of the forest. April loved the mountain air fragrance and at home would sometimes cut boughs from a spruce tree to give the house a fresh aroma.

  Finally, the path sloped downward and opened up into a lush valley. The ranch couldn’t be too far away now, and the sunlight warmed her up once again. Gus nickered as though he too appreciated the sun’s warmth.

  April suddenly remembered that she hardly had enough money to pay for her lodging this week, much less a horse. Her father had always taken care of everything for her, and she never had to worry about details like having cash. It just never occurred to her until now that she’d need more money than she brought. She’d have to wire the bank in Steamboat Springs.

  Now how in the world am I going to buy a horse? I wonder if Wes rents them out. She laughed out loud, startling Gus, and his ears twitched.

  Up ahead the trail widened into a wagon road that led to the Rusty Spur. As she approached, she was not prepared for what she saw. In her mind she expected a well-appointed horse farm. But what she saw was a worn-out homestead.

  As she rode under the Rusty Spur sign, which was indeed rusty, she sighed. The perimeter of Wes’s property looked neglected from what she could tell. It was overgrown with brush and high grass, but the corrals looked to be in decent repair. A few shingles were loose, their edges curling on the roof of the house, which badly needed painting. In the yard was a haphazardly stacked woodpile, and leaning against the side of the house were several cans of paint, probably waiting for someone to open the lids. A rusty plow was nearly covered in the tall grass. Not what she expected. Not at all.

  It was very quiet, and April was beginning to wonder if Wes was even home. She wondered if he lived alone. Sliding off the horse, she looped the reins around the hitching post, made her way up the unsteady steps to the front door, and rapped hard. No answer. To think I rode all the way out here for nothing!

  As minutes passed, she walked to the end of the porch and looked out at the empty corral. April tapped the toe of her boot and crossed her arms. Where could he be? She turned to leave, and as she did, Wes rounded the side of the house on horseback, leading three mares and a filly. He seemed unaware that April was there. So she watched as he leaned down, opened the corral gate, and led the horses inside. Not until he’d latched the gate and trotted back to the barn did he turn and wave his hand in greeting to her. April walked over to where he stood and unsaddled his horse.

  “Howdy.” Wes nodded as his eyes appraised her. Why was he looking at her like that?

  “I didn’t think you were here, and I was about to turn around and go back to town,” she snapped. “I told you I was coming to look at your horses.”

  April watched as Wes removed the saddle and bridle, in no apparent hurry, and carried them to the tack room. “I remembered,” he said as he walked back out. He gave Dakota some oats, then wiped his hands on his blue bandana. He wore no gloves, and she noticed his long fingers, then looked up at his hazel eyes, which held a glint of mischief in them when he slanted a glance at her. She looked away, pretending to be more interested in his horses.

  “Well, I’m here now and want to see the horses, if it’s not too much trouble,” she said.

  Wes paused, resting his hands on his hips. “I heard you the first time, Miss April.” He pushed his hat farther back on his head. “Follow me over to the corral.” Wes kept a good distance between them.

  This was not going the way she thought it would. He was acting unfriendly, and she couldn’t figure out why. He seemed lacking good manners. Well, she’d just pick out a horse, get out of his way, and go riding before she returned to the boardinghouse.

  Wes walked to the corral with April following. He didn’t want to look at her too closely again for fear that he’d stare too long. The clear blue in her eyes, framed in long, thick lashes barely darker than her blonde hair, was like the Montana sky. He was all too aware of the curves hidden under her jeans. Few women wore jeans, although many ladies were riding straddle-legged across the saddle nowadays. But April sure looked good as she stood there next to the railing, thumbs hooked into her belt. She wasn’t like any woman he’d met before. Kind of bossy—in fact, she acted much like a man in some ways, and he didn’t know how to react.

  He watched her climb the tall wood railing of the corral fence and hold her hand out to the
horses, who came clopping up close, sniffing her fingers. She reached into her hip pocket and gave them each a sugar cube. “Beautiful horses, Wes. I think I like the chestnut filly.”

  “You want to have a ride and see how she handles? I haven’t named her yet since I intended to sell her.” Even from where he stood, Wes caught a peculiar odor that clung to April. The same odor he’d smelled at church. He reached up to help her down, and she took his outstretched hand. She gazed right into his eyes, and he swallowed hard, dropping her hand.

  He lifted a bridle hanging on the fence post and flipped the latch on the gate to fetch the sorrel for her. “I have to warn you, she has a mind of her own—kinda like you.” He winked, slipping the bit into the filly’s mouth.

  April took the reins from him. “Then we shall get along famously, won’t we, girl?” She patted the copper-red coat of the horse, admiring her.

  “Want me to saddle her for you?”

  “No need—if you would just give me a hand up . . .” The filly backed up a little and tossed her head when April approached her. “Hi there, my beauty,” she said quietly, allowing the filly to get used to her up close. “Wanna go riding?” The horse swished her tail and gazed at her with huge eyes. April took a few steps closer. “I thought you might want to break outta this corral.” April’s voice was as thick and warm as honey when she spoke, and Wes liked the sound of it. Oh, to be that horse.

  Wes approached her and bent slightly, cupping his hand, and she placed her foot in it and swung her other leg over the horse’s back. Mercy! There was that peculiar smell again. He stepped back. “Take her out to the back pasture and run her a little.”

  April nodded and cantered out of the yard, heading beyond the house to the pasture. She gave the horse a light tap on her sides, allowing the horse free rein. Her hat fell back, but the string kept it from flying off. Wes sucked in his breath. He wasn’t accustomed to seeing a female ride with such abandon, but she could definitely hold her seat without a saddle. It was a sight to behold, woman and sorrel moving as one in fluid motion. He had no doubt that she would pick the chestnut. They were so alike, but he wasn’t sure that he understood her need to have a horse unless she stayed in Montana. Guess it was none of his business as long as she was buying.

  He watched her slow the filly down and make another lap, guiding the horse from right to left with slight pressure of her legs. Wes knew she was checking out whether the filly followed directions and was testing Wes’s skill as a trainer at the same time. He hoped she’d be satisfied, but he wasn’t sure after the way she’d yelled at him the first time he laid eyes on her.

  April had a broad smile on her face when she returned, and Wes took that as a good sign. “So what did you think?”

  She laughed in a delightful way. “Oh, she’s something all right, wantin’ her own way. But that makes it all the more fun!” April leaned down to stroke the horse’s neck. “She is so beautiful. I’ll take her. How much are you asking?”

  “I’ll take two hundred dollars for her.” Wes watched as the smile slid off April’s face.

  “Uh . . . I don’t have that much with me. Do you ever rent one out—say, for a week or two?” She chewed her bottom lip with a doubtful look.

  “I haven’t, and I’m not about to start now,” he answered. “Only a buzzard feeds on his friends. How much do you have?”

  Her eyes blinked in thought as she tried to come up with an answer. “That’s just it. I’m a little low on cash at the moment, but I can wire the bank in Colorado first thing tomorrow morning.” She flipped a leg over the horse’s back and dismounted, her eyes searching his for a suggestion.

  “Tell you what. You have something to barter—say, like that nice leather belt you’re wearing and those matching cowboy boots.”

  She drew in a sharp breath of surprise and flashed him a look that said he’d lost his mind. “I should say not! It cost me a lot to have these made especially for me, and it took months. Can’t you trust me until I receive a wire to the Lewistown bank?” Her eyes pleaded, and at first he thought she would cry. Wes could tell right then that she was a true lover of horses to want one so badly that she couldn’t even wait another day to have her own. Spoiled little darling.

  He took a step toward her. “I’m afraid not.”

  April’s face darkened. “What would you do with them anyway? Neither the belt nor boots will fit you.”

  Wes swaggered closer. “I have just the gal in mind who might take a likin’ to ’em!”

  She hesitated.

  He waited.

  She blinked.

  Their eyes locked.

  She spoke first. “Oh, blast you! You know I like the chestnut.” April loosened the belt, removed it, and threw it at him, but he caught it before it hit him in the face. He chuckled, then pointed to her boots.

  “I hope your gal knows how to appreciate good leather when she gets this.” She hopped on one foot as she clumsily struggled to pull a boot off. Wes reached out to hold her steady, but she quickly pushed his hand aside. “Don’t touch me, you smelly horse trainer!”

  His eyes snapped. Wes lost his temper and the composure he’d tried hard to learn from all Josh’s advice about how to treat women. He grabbed her wrist and said, “Smelly? So that’s what you think?” Her eyes widened, but then she compressed her lips in a defiant smirk. “I’ll tell you who stinks, madam. You do!”

  April exploded. “Of all the nerve . . . How dare you say that!” She tried to turn away from him, but he held her fast by her wrist.

  “Just be glad you have the fancy belt and boots off,” he barked as he dragged her by the arm toward the horses’ water trough. When she realized what he was intending to do, she struggled to free his grip, but Wes knew he was stronger.

  April, with just socks on her feet, dug them as hard as she could in the dirt and fell on her backside. Wes dropped her belt in the dust, and with his hand free now, he clasped both of her wrists, pulled her up, and heaved her over his shoulder. She pounded his back with her fists, squirming and writhing for all she was worth.

  “Put me down, you skinny brute! You’d better do what I say!”

  “I’m sorry, April,” he said as he strode to the water trough, “but since no one would tell you, it’s left up to me. You are close to smelling like a skunk, and we’re gonna take care of that here and now!” With that, he plopped her lengthwise into the trough and pushed her down while she flailed about in indignation, sucking in water and air. She tried to climb out but lost her footing and fell backward again. Wes picked up a bar of soap next to the water pump and tossed it to her. It landed with a plop on her chest. “If I were you, I’d lather up.”

  “Oh—” she muttered through clenched teeth. She threw the bar back at him, but he ducked and it missed its target. The look on her face was worse than the one on his bandy rooster, and Wes roared with laughter. He moved aside quickly as she lunged, avoiding the swing of her small fist. He calmly leaned against the fence post, watching as she picked up her hat, which had fallen into the dust during the fracas. Though her hair was dripping with water, she slapped the hat back on her head. “You’re going to regret this,” she sputtered, clenching both fists to her sides.

  Wes regarded her, and his eyes traveled to the wet chambray shirt clinging to her bosom, which heaved in and out with her fast breathing. He tore his eyes away and said, “April, I’m sorry. You can go inside and take off those wet things and I’ll loan you some clothes.”

  “I’ll be fine just like I am. I don’t need your help in any way.” She stared down at her feet in wet socks now muddied from the water and dirt. Her features softened and her anger melted momentarily, and she started to giggle like a woman who’d been cooped up in a cabin for the winter. Wes joined in with a hoot, and they both laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

  Finally, April straightened and asked in a shaky voice, “Did I really stink? Billy and I washed my clothes, and Leon smoked the area around the depot before I got there.�
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  “Sooo, I was right. It was a skunk. You may have gotten rid of the worst odor, but not all of it. I think you got used to the smell. You didn’t smell terrible, just not good. Didn’t you notice the way people kept their distance with you?” Wes grinned. “If I were you, I’d bury those clothes and buy new ones.”

  “Wipe that silly grin off your face if you’re being serious with me.” April spun around to where she left Gus and untied the reins. “Can you get a rope around Sassy’s neck so I can lead her back with me?”

  “Sassy? Is that what you’re gonna call her? I reckon it suits her well enough, just like you. Wait here and I’ll get a rope.”

  He returned from the barn and slipped the rope over Sassy’s neck. “Sure you want to do this?”

  “We struck a bargain, didn’t we? Better tell that girlfriend the present came with a price.”

  Wes quirked an eyebrow at her. Amusement touched his face, and he almost laughed. She must think the gift was for his girlfriend. Let her think whatever she wanted. “At least you smell a little better now, thanks to me. Sure you don’t want to take a real bath? I can leave you alone in the house.” He shifted on his boot heels.

  April climbed up onto Gus’s broad back. “Not hardly. What would people think?”

  “No more’n what they’ll think if they knew you came all the way out here alone and going back looking like you do. But suit yourself.” He saw her hesitate, thinking about what he’d just pointed out.

  “Is that how you treat your lady friends so you can lure them into your home? Well, Mr. Wes Owen, I’m not one of your girls. Please step aside.”

  “Have it your way, Miss April.” His jaw clamped. “I wouldn’t want to lay claim to being the one to tell you how to live your life.”

  “You’ll never have to worry about that, I assure you.” April cut him a hard look as she scrambled into the saddle, holding Sassy’s rope. She tore out of the dirt yard, maneuvering just right to leave Wes choking on a big cloud of dust.