by Pam Crooks
“A place you’ve never been yet.” He halted. Spying Roger, he slid one of those high-pitched whistles through his teeth, which, of course, got the foreman’s attention, along with everyone else who owned a pair of ears. “Taking Ava riding for a spell,” he called out. “Won’t be gone long.”
Roger lifted his arm in acknowledgment and kept walking, headed to wherever he was headed. He didn’t even seem to care she was leaving, and it was just one more reminder of how obviously she’d already been replaced because Roger didn’t even care she was leaving.
Whatever. She’d go riding, and she’d take as long as she wanted, too, just like Beau said.
He untied the palomino’s leathers and handed them to her. She lifted her work boot into the stirrup, mounted on the left side like she was supposed to, and settled into the saddle with that little creaking sound she loved. She’d mounted up so often, it was easy now. She was used to being high off the ground, too, but Beau seemed to think it was necessary to plant his palm on her bottom to give her a little push anyway.
“You’ve grown into a good rider, Ava.” He took the second set of leathers and climbed up, too, smooth and easy with plenty of creaking. “We’ll be going over some rocky, hilly ground, but you’ll do fine. Just stay beside me.”
“As long as you don’t get too far ahead.”
She’d been proud the first time he said she was ready to leave the corral without him walking beside her; even prouder when they rode side by side on a flat, dirt, safe road, and proudest still when he took her up and down gullies to give her a feel for riding through shallow water. Evidently, he considered a rocky hill the next level to learn, and she was ready for the challenge.
“I won’t,” he said. “Maggie’s going to do all the work. You just need to stay in your seat and keep control of the reins.”
She adjusted her Stetson and kept it snug with the chin cord. “Ready when you are.”
They nudged their horses forward, and she didn’t even look back at the jobsite. The farther they went into the hills, the more she realized Beau was right. She needed a change of atmosphere. Breathe in different air. Soak in the quiet.
Beau glanced over at her. “Doing okay?”
She smiled, still as affected by his handsomeness as she’d been the first moment she saw him. “Doing better, thanks to you.”
He rode closer, reached out a tanned-and-tattooed arm, and took her hand. He lowered a kiss onto her knuckles. “Love being with you like this, y’know that?”
She glanced away. Would she make things worse if she admitted she loved being with him, too? That she wanted time to stand still so she wouldn’t have to leave in the morning? That she would remain at his side for the rest of her life if she could?
Her gaze swiveled back to him, catching her reflection in his aviator lenses. She’d become a different person. From the Stetson on her head to the bandanna around her neck down to the horse beneath her, she’d evolved into the cowgirl she vowed never to become.
Had it been such a terrible change?
Hardly. Nothing like she once feared. An uplifting change, actually. Inspirational, too.
Yet soon, when she was back in New York, it’d all be for nothing. She’d be the person she used to be, heading to the corporate world every morning, living among concrete and high-rise buildings, congested traffic and factory smells, crowds and noise. She’d immerse herself in her construction project, and her summer at the Blackstone Ranch would be a mere blip in her memory.
A very precious blip, and Beau didn’t count in that part of the equation.
“It’s fun, yes,” she said softly. What good would it do to admit too much? To lead him into thinking there could be a future for them when they would only have a past? “We always have fun together.” She straightened and pulled her hand away, dragging her scrutiny to the rugged Texas landscape with its craggy rocks and prickly vegetation. “Where are we, anyway?”
He rested his hand on his thigh. “My great-grandfather’s mine. His jobsite at the time. What’s left of it anyway.”
So this was what started it all. The mine that needed a community, which withered into a ghost town, and would soon be a guest resort.
“Not much to see, is there?” Yet coal-dirty men with flashlights on their helmets and donkeys pulling carts of rock flourished in her imagination. “Hard to believe this place was once a busy operation.”
“Dad made sure everything was demolished and filled in for safety reasons. Anyone who fell in a shaft out here would likely never be found, at least not easily. But in its day, my great-grandfather’s mine thrived. He discovered bituminous coal reserves and had almost a dozen shafts he used one time or another.”
“This area is mostly rich in lignite, though, isn’t it? How amazing the bituminous existed and that he found it.”
“You’ve done your homework.” Beau’s mouth curved.
“Always do before I start a construction project.”
“Then you probably know lignite is a lower-grade coal and made Rupert’s bituminous all the more lucrative.”
“I do. Until the railways came.”
“And that was the end of mining out here. Railroads were switching to oil as fuel for the steam locomotives.”
“A shame.” She sighed. “I’m a sucker for keeping happy times going.”
If he caught her unexpected comparison to their relationship, the unhappy circumstances over which they had no control, he didn’t show it.
“Forced ol’ Rupert to turn to cattle, if nothing else,” Beau continued. “Traded one legacy for another. While my dad was growing up, ranching was the only life the Paxton family had ever known. He took over the operation, got married—”
“—had three sons, and here we are.”
“The legacy continues, Ava.”
Did he mean the construction of the resort? He rode ahead, and she lost the opportunity to ask. She urged the palomino to catch up, and they left the mining region behind.
The terrain leveled out, and the path traveled a line of fence that climbed from the acres and acres of pasture sprawled below. Cattle grazed on the rich grass, their hides blobs of brown and black in the sunny distance. They seemed to lack for nothing, and their numbers were almost more than she could comprehend.
She had never owned a dog or a cat or even a goldfish, yet day in and day out, the Paxtons dedicated their lives to the herd’s care and comfort, a lifestyle the family took pride in.
Beau pulled up in front of an area of fence where the barbed wire had somehow broken; the wire lay on the ground, leaving a gaping space.
“Dad built the fence to keep the cattle out of the mining area,” he said, eying the break. “They don’t have any business wanting to graze up here. Could get hurt besides. I’ll have to come back and fix this.”
She reined in beside him. Beau and his brothers had lamented more than once that fixing fence was a never-ending job.
“So much wide-open space,” she murmured, soaking in the view like a seedling soaked in rain. “It goes on forever.”
“As much as I love the ghost town, this section of the ranch is extra special. Always has been, since I was a kid.”
“Beautiful, Beau. So peaceful. Powerful, you know?”
“I do know.” He crossed his wrists over the saddle horn. “The land you see here is mine, Ava. A gift from Mom and Dad. Part of the three hundred acres they swapped out for the ghost town. Incentive to stay on the ranch, I suspect.” He glanced over at her. “Brock and Jace get their own sections, too.”
She blew out a breath at Ginny and Duane’s generosity. “Nice.”
“When I returned from Afghanistan, I moved back into the Big House. All of us boys did after we were discharged from the military. We helped take care of Dad, and Mom took care of us.” His expression turned earnest. “But it’s time for me to build my own home, Ava. Start my own legacy out here. With a wife and kids.”
Her breath caught. She couldn’t move, couldn’t s
peak, couldn’t dare assume what would come next.
“I’d be proud to marry you, Ava, honey. That is, if you’ll have me. You can build the house from the ground up. Whatever makes you happy will make me happy, too.”
Her nose stung; her throat closed. Seconds, minutes, passed before she could speak.
“I can’t marry you, Beau,” she said, the words torn from her. “You know I can’t.”
“What I know is we have logistics to work out.”
“Logistics? Is that what you think my career is? A logistical problem?”
“Every problem has a solution. Not sure what ours is right now, but we’ll figure it out together. Going to need some give and take from both of us, that’s all.”
Her blood turned to sludge in her veins, chilling her from the inside out. She had to end this conversation. She had to stop Beau from wanting her in his life.
Why didn’t he understand that she couldn’t allow anyone to love her, really love her? He should know. She told him about her father, her mother, her grandmother. There was Erin, too. The people who meant so much were taken from her too soon.
She was a risk for anyone to love.
Loving her would be a curse.
A tragedy.
She couldn’t allow the same thing to happen to him, too, and she punched down her anguish, like dough in a bowl. “I’m sorry, Beau. You have no idea how very sorry I am or how much I wish more than anyone this—this attraction had never happened.”
“No.” His jaw moved. “I’ve been attracted to my share of women over the years, Ava. I know what it feels like. With you, it’s more. Deeper. I’m in love with you, pure and simple.” His throat moved. “I think you feel the same way.”
Dizziness swam through her head, and her knees squeezed the mare’s ribs to keep herself seated. Steady and focused. “I don’t. You’re wrong.”
He growled her name and leaned toward her, his arm reaching, as if he intended to pluck her from her saddle onto his. As if he needed to hold her, now, this minute, but too quickly, she nudged Maggie away.
“I have to get back.” The words sounded as if she’d choked them out. “I thought I heard Roger calling me.”
It was a lie, and they both knew it. They were much too far away for her to hear anyone from the jobsite, but there was no help for her cowardice, no help for her breaking heart.
No help but to save herself and leave him as fast as she could.
Chapter Sixteen
He’d made a huge mess of his marriage proposal. He should’ve spoken with more finesse. Or gotten down on one knee. He could’ve found a more romantic way to ask Ava to spend the rest of her life with him instead of catching her unaware while on the back of a horse.
He didn’t even have a ring to give her.
A bungled up mess, for sure.
She’d ridden ahead of him the entire way back to the jobsite, and Beau didn’t try to catch up. He kept a close eye on her, though, in case Maggie took a misstep over the rough ground or Ava had trouble staying in the saddle, neither of which happened.
He said nothing while she dismounted and grabbed her laptop from the picnic table. She ignored him as she practically ran to the foreman’s trailer, yanked the door open, and disappeared inside.
Jaw set, he climbed down from his horse. Ava was all-fired determined to get away from him, but she just needed time to think through everything he said. He wasn’t giving up. Might be she’d change her mind. The clock was ticking; he had only until tonight. Precious few hours, for sure, but somehow, he’d find better words, get down on both knees, hell, he’d even stand on his head if he had to. Whatever it took to get her to say “yes.”
He tethered Maggie and his mare to a low branch where both could graze in the shade while he was gone. The toolbox in his pickup held everything he needed to fix the barbed wire fence. The chore would give him something to do before approaching Ava again.
He opened the truck’s door, and Gunner came running. Beau stepped aside so the dog could leap into the front seat. Beau climbed in after him and turned the ignition, caught sight of Jace and Brock striding out of Old Man Rupert’s place, and waved to both before taking off.
The road past the mine was best traveled by horseback, but the pickup maneuvered the uneven ground with plenty of jostling to force Beau to keep his speed slow. Once past the mine, the drive got easier; he approached the section of pasture he’d shown Ava, parked the truck, and got out.
Gunner knew the routine—stay out of the way and entertain himself until it was time to move onto the next job. Beau retrieved the supplies he needed out of the toolbox, then, pulling on his gloves, he strode toward the broken fence.
He hunkered down and examined the wires. Damned if they hadn’t been cut—not broken by cows with an itch that needed scratched or an ornery urge to get out. The fencing was in good shape, the poles sturdy in the ground, the wire taut.
He frowned and stood, set his hands on his hips, and surveyed the pasture. For the first time, he noticed the tire tracks that came up from the grassy meadow and onto the road. Fresh, from the looks of them. Whoever it was, the driver had taken a shortcut and seemed in a hurry to get onto this path, which, after a fair drive, led to the highway.
Might be hunters or kids or someone who plain lost their way, but they had to have known they were trespassing. Most ranchers didn’t abide by folks who drove off public roads onto their private land, and the Paxtons were no different. Accidental trespassers likely wouldn’t be prepared to cut barbed wire, either, but it appeared the driver was long gone and hadn’t done any other harm.
With a disgusted sigh, Beau squatted down and attached the fence stretcher to both ends of the bottom strand of barbed wire and pulled, then slid on a metal sleeve, crimping it tightly with his pliers.
He’d fixed fence from the time he was strong enough to handle the tools as well as any other cowboy, including those older and more experienced. Didn’t take much thinking anymore, and his mind settled on Ava. That pretty face of hers and what she was doing right now. She’d admitted to their attraction, which wasn’t the same as declaring love, but maybe some pondering back there in the foreman’s trailer would help her change her mind and soften her resistance to his proposal. Which, granted, came too fast on his part and without any expectation on hers, but could she at least see the appeal in marriage to him? A compromise wouldn’t be easy for her today, but tomorrow might be different…
He’d give her the time she needed.
He’d wait as long as it took.
Gunner decided to start some pretty heavy barking. Made thinking of Ava a challenge. Beau tossed aside the stretcher and wrapped the extra length from both wires around the barbed wire to strengthen the splice. The dog found plenty of critters on the ranch interesting, and he never failed to let loose with some hollering to let them know he was boss. Before going over to check on him, Beau set his sights on the next row of wires, ready to start a new round of splicing.
A moving shadow stopped him cold.
He swiveled, and the shadow merged into Bud Templeton striding toward him from a tree-covered bluff, Gunner on his heels.
“Shut that stupid dog up,” Bud snarled. He tossed aside a beer can and kept coming. “Get him away from me.”
Wary, Beau stood. He didn’t like the man’s murderous expression, but Beau commanded Gunner to silence anyway. The dog wasn’t of a mind to obey at first; seemed he sensed trouble coming, same as Beau did.
“Looks like you have a real problem trespassing on Paxton land, Bud,” he said after the Lab quieted. “I’m guessing you’re the one who cut our fence, too.”
“Think I care?”
“You would if I reminded you it’s a criminal offense. You’re a rancher. You know Texas law as well as anyone.”
“Forget all that.” Bud halted with a slight stagger.
“You really expect me to?”
The man glared with bloodshot eyes. “You’re turning my boy against me. All h
e talks about is you and that Howell woman and the damned resort y’all are building.”
“He wants to work. Let him.”
“He can work wherever he wants. Just not for a Paxton.”
Beau’s mouth tightened. “The boy needs a good example in forgiveness and neighboring. You’re his father. Show him the right thing by putting away the hate you feel for us. Move on.”
“Never goin’ to forget your ol’ man ruined my marriage. Took away my boys’ mother.”
Beau refrained from stating Bud’s marriage was over long before Duane Paxton got involved, trying to help a young woman care for her sons. Or so he thought. It was the truth, but one that Bud didn’t want to hear.
“Figured you’d be out on the road by now,” he said, changing tactics.
“Not leaving my boy. He’d just go runnin’ back to you first my back’s turned.”
“Can’t earn a wage if you’re not working, Bud. How’re you going to support your sons if you’re sitting at home, drinking beer and letting your hate fester?”
Glowering, Bud took a step closer. “Stay away from him.”
“Not making any promises.”
“Or you’ll regret it.”
Beau stood his ground. “I know what it’s like when a man’s feelings need sorting out. Talk to a doctor, Bud. Get help for your hate. Your drinking, too.”
His intentions were honest and the best he could offer, but Bud didn’t show much appreciation. He snarled and lunged for the fence stretcher, moving faster than Beau could’ve anticipated. The man swung out while he was coming up, striking Beau on the shoulder with the heavy steel tool, hard enough to throw him off-balance.
He scrambled to stand upright. The pain raced like wildfire along his nerve endings. He tore off his sunglasses, threw them aside, did the same with his gloves. He flexed his fists and kept the man in full view.
“Drop the stretcher, Bud. Let’s end this, here and now.”
