High Country Cowgirl

by Joanna Sims

  “What’s that?”

  “You train horses.”

  Gabe looked over at her, kind of curious, while she continued.

  “I saw what you did with that horse last night. It was amazing.”

  “I don’t know about amazing. It’s just releasing the pressure at the right time so the horse knows what you want, is all.”

  “Do you think that you could teach my mom’s horse to accept her wheelchair?”

  Gabe didn’t take much time to think about it. “I reckon I could.”

  Bonita turned her body toward him as much as she could with the restriction of the seat belt, her eyes welling up from a mixture of sadness and hope.

  “Gabe. If you could, you have no idea what that would mean to me. What that would mean to my mom! All she wants to do is visit with Jasmine, to give her a treat, to pet her nose or brush her a little. But Jasmine is petrified of the wheelchair and Mom can’t do without it anymore.”

  She took in a deep breath to steady herself before she continued.

  “Montana was my mom’s dream. To be in Montana with her horse. And now, she doesn’t even go into the barn because she doesn’t want to scare Jasmine. She only watches Jasmine graze from the window. It makes me feel...”

  Bonita lowered her head and shook it, pausing to collect herself. “Muy triste. Very sad.”

  “I can’t promise anything, Bonita,” Gabe said. “But I can promise that I’ll do my best.”

  “Thank you, Gabe.” Her voice wavered. “It would be a gift to my mother that no amount of money could buy.”

  * * *

  As she had prejudged Gabe, so, too, had she prejudged South Dakota. There were many things that she had gotten right—there were more wide-open spaces and trees than people. But she had wrongly assumed that only country folk, in small cabins they built with their own hands, lived in the Dakotas. On that front, she was mistaken.

  Just on the outskirts of Rapid City, Gabe turned onto a drive leading up a steep hill that led to a sprawling structure constructed of logs. The house abutted a cliff overlooking Spring Creek Canyon. Even by Montana standards, this was a big house.

  “I’m curious about the inside,” she told Gabe.

  “You’ll see it.” He drove past the house and followed a narrow road to the barn. The barn was a mini replica of the house, built with the same logs and aesthetic as the house.

  Unlike the other stops, there wasn’t anyone there to greet them. And there weren’t any other horses in sight.

  “They got out of the horse business years back. Bobbi has a couple of miniature donkeys, so I think Val will be okay here for a night. Let’s give Tater a quick bathroom break and then put her back in the rig so we can get Val unloaded.”

  At the other stops, there was always another person to handle the Oldenburg. Today, Bonita needed to step up and handle her horse. It didn’t set well with her that she felt uneasy around Val, especially when that had never happened to her before with any other horse.

  Val came off the ramp full of energy and anxiety—his eyes were wide-open as he looked around at his strange surroundings, snorting and pawing at the ground. He refused to stand still, moving from one side to the other, while Gabe worked to get his shipping boots off.

  “This is the last stop before home,” she told Val and he thanked her by nipping at her.

  She was relieved to get the lead rope off him and let him go in the pasture. She and Gabe leaned against the fence and watched the Oldenburg race around the pasture, bucking and working out his pent-up energy.

  “He is a gorgeous horse.” She spoke her thoughts aloud.

  “That he is.”

  “But he hates me.”

  “It’s not in a horse to hate you.”

  She looked at Gabe’s profile. In a pretty short amount of time, she had come to respect his knowledge of horses. And it would do her spirit a world of good to think that he was right about this one.

  “Is that true?”

  “Sure it is.” Gabe turned his clear, blue eyes toward her. “There’s only two things horses are taught by their mamas. One, you eat grass. And two, everything else eats you. A horse is sensitive to our energy. They have to be. That’s how they know if you’re dangerous. If you’re nervous around them, they are going to automatically put you in the predator category and they’re going to do their best to get the heck away from you. That’s instinct working for them and we can’t fault them for doing what comes natural.”

  What Gabe was saying made sense. For some reason, she had always been nervous around Val and he was viewing her as a predator. She was going to have to work on that.

  “He’s fine for now,” Gabe said, once Val had settled in the pasture and started to graze. “I’ll come back and clean out the rig later. Do you still want to see Mount Rushmore?”

  “That would be a yes.”

  “Then let’s grab Tater and get going. I promised Bobbi that I’d have us back in time for some shindig they’re having at the club.”

  “I didn’t bring anything to wear to an event.”

  “Trust me. Bobbi will have you covered,” Gabe said with certainty. “Once you meet her, you’ll get it.”

  * * *

  When Gabe and Bonita returned from their trip to Mount Rushmore, Bobbi and her husband, Bill, had arrived home. Once Bonita met Bobbi, Gabe’s cryptic comment made perfect sense.

  Bobbi was her kind of woman—she wore nice jewelry even when she was wearing jeans, her makeup was flawless no matter the time of day, her nails were perfectly shaped and polished, the hair was on point, and the boots looked to be from Gucci’s new fall collection. Bobbi was bringing some cosmopolitan flair to South Dakota. Bobbi could just as easily be getting ready for lunch on Rodeo Drive instead of standing in the rustic-motif kitchen of her South Dakota mansion.

  “It’s the views.” Bonita was on the tour of the house with Bobbi while Gabe and Bill went out to get Val settled in the barn.

  She was standing in a room, overlooking a canyon, with floor-to-ceiling windows. The house, built by Bill’s family in the early 1920s, was ten thousand square feet of rustic masculinity. Heavy wood beams crossed the tall ceilings; the cabinets in the kitchen and bathrooms were dark knotted wood. For a house so large, it was unusually dark and cave-like. But then you would find yourself in a room with a wall of windows, and the glorious world outside was laid at your feet.

  “It is all about these views,” Bobbi agreed as she linked her arm with Bonita’s. “But sometimes, I’d give anything to trade that view with a view of Bloomingdale’s.”

  That made Bonita laugh. She was glad that she wasn’t the only one who thought that way. “Gabe said that you grew up in Los Angeles?”

  “Beverly Hills, 90210,” Bobbi said, but it didn’t come off as pretentious. “It was fabulous. The shopping and the dining.”

  “That’s a long way from here,” Bonita said wistfully, thinking of how far away Bozeman seemed to be from her stomping grounds in Washington, DC.

  “It was an adjustment,” her hostess confessed. “Who am I kidding? I’m still adjusting. But when I met Bear...”

  Bobbi called her husband Bear and claimed that everyone did, but Bonita intended to stick with Bill.

  “...my life changed. If you love someone as much as I love that man, you make it work. His great-grandfather built this home. It’s meaningful to him, so there you go.”

  Bobbi led Bonita to her daughter’s suite of rooms. “I know you weren’t expecting to get dolled up, but the club is having this big, swanky event for the board of directors, and it’s going to be fabulous. We have an amazing chef, so the food will be to die for, the booze is free, and halfway through the night everyone will be dancing with their shoes off.”

  Bobbi threw open the doors to a walk-in closet the size of a bedroom. “You look to be about Georgin
a’s size. Let’s find you something fabulous to wear.”

  Bobbi said the word fabulous a lot, but in the case of her daughter’s dress options, they were indeed fabulous. For a moment, Bonita was transported out of South Dakota and into a couture closet of a woman’s dreams.

  “Is this a Hervé Léger?” she asked excitedly.

  Bobbi had given her carte blanche with her daughter’s wardrobe, swearing that Georgina wouldn’t mind. The two of them had been searching the sea of cocktail options when Bonita came across a silver, geometric bandage dress that spoke her name.

  “Oh, now that would look fabulous on you. You have the curves to fill that out.”

  Bonita held the dress up in front of her body in the full-length mirror and, as if for the first time, noticed how shabby she looked. She was wearing a rumpled shirt, jeans and her hair was in a sloppy ponytail—homeless chic. How could she have been beaten down by this road trip in such short order?

  “Are you sure your daughter wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” Bobbi waved her hand. “I’m the clotheshorse. Most of this she bought just to humor me. Look. The one you picked out still has the tag on it.”

  Bonita took another look at her image in the mirror. She didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to get dressed up, glam out her makeup and feel like herself again.

  “What about the shoes?” she asked Bobbi.

  “What size do you wear?”

  “Seven and a half.”

  “My size!” Bobbi grabbed her hand. “Let’s go find you the perfect pair.”

  * * *

  Gabe did something on this trip that he’d never done before—he left his planned travel route, with a client, to go on an excursion. Not only did he deviate from his plan, he borrowed a friend’s vehicle to do it. There was something about Bonita that made him want to do nice things for her—there was something about her that made him want to go a little out of his way.

  And since he’d always wanted to see Mount Rushmore but had never taken the time to go, it was a win-win to take Bonita. They had stood together, quietly, soaking in the awe of the presidential carvings that were beyond what he had ever seen in pictures. To be able to experience the sheer enormity of the sculptures and the artisan skill it took to create the faces of presidents past was worth the detour. Seeing how happy Bonita was to visit one of her bucket-list monuments was a bonus.

  The moment they returned to his friend’s log cabin mansion, as Gabe affectionately thought of it, Bobbi whisked Bonita off for an all-inclusive tour of the house and grounds, as anticipated. Gabe had a chance to catch up with Bill while he cleaned out the back of the rig and prepared it for the last leg of the trip. Val was happy in the pasture, so Gabe decided to leave him out until after he returned for the evening.

  “The limo will be here to pick us up at seven sharp,” Bill reminded him for the fourth time. Bill was a mountain of a man, tall, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, but he toed the line with Bobbi. And Bobbi liked to be on time.

  “I’ll be ready,” Gabe promised.

  The last time he had dressed up was at his brother Bruce’s vow renewal. When he’d asked Bobbi about landing in Rapid City on the third leg of his trip, she was happy to have him as long as he agreed to attend their event at the club. So he’d dusted off his wedding suit and brought it along.

  After he finished his work, double-checked on Val and fed Tater, Gabe got himself showered, shaved and gussied up. He was glad that in South Dakota it was still acceptable to wear a cowboy hat to a formal event. He’d feel naked without it.

  Gabe was the first one ready, so he waited for the others in a room with lookout views of the canyon. He felt nervous to see Bonita and he couldn’t pinpoint why. His palms were a little clammy and his heart was beating just a bit harder than normal. He felt hot around his uncomfortable collar.

  “Bobbi sent me to find you.”

  At the sound of her voice ringing sweet in his ears, Gabe turned away from the windows. The sight of her, standing in a silver cocktail dress that hugged her hourglass curves, made him feel like someone had just walked over to him and punched him in the gut. She wore her hair down tonight, letting it cascade around her face and shoulders.

  “This place is enormous.” Bonita smiled at him as she walked his way. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find my way back.”

  The woman who had been a constant companion in his thoughts of late stopped in front of him and he breathed in that delicate, lovely signature lavender scent on her skin.

  Beautiful Bonita.

  “You look beautiful, Bonita.”

  He was awarded with a smile, drawing his attention to her perfectly red lips. “Thank you, Gabe. And may I say, you look very handsome in that suit.”

  In response, Gabe offered her his arm. As he escorted Bonita down to the awaiting car, for the first time in such a long time, the cowboy felt like he was on top of the world.

  Chapter Six

  Bonita was clearly in her element at the formal country-club event. There was a social code, a language, that guided such events, and she evidently spoke that language fluently. Gabe, on the other hand, felt strung up tight like he was in a straitjacket and wished he could’ve worn his Wranglers. But as uncomfortable as he was from head to toe, it was worth the discomfort to escort Bonita into the room. She was a lovely beacon that drew the admiring looks of the men in the room and he felt as if he was walking with his head held just a little bit higher for having her on his arm.

  Before they entered the main ballroom, Bonita leaned over and whispered, “This dress isn’t too Kim Kardashian, is it?”

  “No.”

  She glanced up into his face. “You do know who that is, right?”

  “Yes. I know who that is.”

  The woman did really think he was completely out of touch with civilization. Now granted, he didn’t know who the designer of her dress was, but that was a normal guy thing not to know, wasn’t it?

  “Look at this, Gabe. This is so much fun!” Bonita was all smiles as he held out her chair at their assigned table.

  There was so much silverware on the table; Gabe knew he was in for a long, drawn-out meal. He considered himself to be on the job until Val was safely delivered to his new home, but he sorely wanted a scotch on the rocks.

  “I love pink champagne!” His companion accepted a glass of champagne from a server, her sable-brown eyes flashing with happiness.

  Bonita didn’t sit still for long—she wanted to mingle and circulate and meet all of Bobbi’s friends. Gabe decided to unstick himself from the chair and head over to Bill’s small gathering of men. But he did like to keep track of Bonita, glancing around the room to find her every now and again.

  Perhaps he had never really seen her in her natural habitat—a socialite event—because this Bonita was laughing and talking animatedly with her hands and showing one of Bobbi’s friends a couple of salsa moves. It was difficult for him to reconcile the woman he was seeing now with the woman who looked adorably grumpy at four o’clock in the morning wearing an oversize sweatshirt and her face scrubbed clean of makeup.

  When it was time for dinner to be served, Bonita arrived back at the table with a fresh glass of champagne.

  “I love this place.” She leaned toward him. “Everyone is so nice.”

  “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

  “I’m having a fabulous time.” She drank a sip of champagne. “Will you pass me one of those rolls? I’m feeling just the slightest bit tipsy.”

  As he suspected, the amount of silverware was an omen of things to come. One course after another was served to the point that he got tired of the rotation of clearing and serving and cleansing his palate. The only real enjoyment he could find was watching Bonita blossoming next to him. In short order, she had managed to engage everyone at the table in conversati
on, and from what he could tell, the people of Rapid City had embraced his companion with open arms.

  “Coffee means it’s almost over.” Gabe didn’t mean to speak that sentiment aloud, but it came out of his mouth anyway.

  Surprised, Bonita turned toward him. “Aren’t you having a good time?”

  He was sorry to hear the disappointment in her voice, but this wasn’t his kind of party. “It’s been a long day.”

  Concern for him flashed across the features of her pretty face. For the briefest of moments, she placed her warm, small hand over his. “Do you want to go home? I’m sure Bobbi can arrange for you to get a ride back.”

  He was exhausted and overstuffed with fancy food and his suit jacket was too constricting, but there was a young man on the other side of the room who hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of Bonita. If Gabe gave in to his exhaustion and discomfort, that young man might just move in on Bonita before he even had a chance to let his own intentions be known. So he stayed.

  “I’m glad you’re staying. I know you’re tired, but I like your company.”

  Was that the champagne talking? Gabe didn’t care. He liked what he was hearing.

  “And they’re going to have dancing soon. Do you dance?”

  “No.”

  She looked disappointed again. “No?”

  He shook his head and tried to make his lips form some sort of semblance of a smile and failed.

  “Never?”

  He shook his head.

  “What about at your prom?” she persisted.

  “No.”

  “Not even at a junior high school dance?”

  Another shake of his head.

  “Well.” Bonita’s red lips frowned in a very appealing way. “That’s unfortunate. I really wanted to dance tonight.”

  “You wanted to dance with me?”

  Their eyes met and held. “You’re my date, in a manner of speaking.”

  Even though Gabe was of a mind to go out of his way for Bonita, dancing was not an option. He wasn’t good at it. He didn’t like to do it. And that was the final verdict on that subject.