Slade and Kally: Letting Go of the Reins, Book 1

by AE Rought

  Her smile was indulgent. “Oh, honey, he’s one of the area’s most eligible bachelors. Sure, he’s handsome in a gasp-and-swoon kind of way, and his parents’ ranch is worth millions. I think what makes the girls crazy is he is a good man. He’s not some boy on a pony. There’s a man in the saddle. His parents did right by him in raising him the way they did.”

  “Wow. I guess I’m a lucky girl then.”

  “Until the local gals find out he’s smitten.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Something else I hear too.”

  “Anyone who knows Slade would tell you the same thing. I may be in Sundance, but I grew up in Hulett and believe me when I say you will meet a green-eyed monster or two in there.”

  “Oh goody.” My sarcastic outburst was brief.. “Thanks again for bringing me the quilt.”

  “No problem. Take care of yourself.”

  Ilene met me at the door. Chills crept over my skin and a sudden sense of loss swirled in me. I’d only had Ilene back in my life for a few days, and now we were parting again. Some part of me wanted to hold on to her forever. I reached out with my left hand and took hers in mine.

  “I’m going to take off now, Kally. I’d like to get home in time for dinner. Steve offered to take me out tonight.”

  I hugged her fiercely. “Well then you best scoot. I love you, Ilene. I’ll call when I get settled.”

  “I’ll be waiting on the call.” She patted my back and then pulled away to look me. “I love you too, sweetie.”

  Slade scurried past with a quick wave to Ilene before ducking into the pharmacy. He emerged with two little white bags, one for each prescription. Then he offered his arm for support. Giving me the power to make the decision made a huge difference in my reaction. I wrapped my left arm in his and he led me to the truck while Ilene went toward her Jeep. My teeth chattered when I waved to Ilene, and then Slade helped me up into the cab. It was an awkward climb with one arm and a man trying to help me in. Eventually, I settled in beneath the seatbelt and tucked the quilt around me. My riding partner and newest friend climbed in and shut the door. He looked me in the eyes when he pulled his seatbelt over and clicked it home. “Are you ready for this?”

  I thumped my feet and pulled the quilt tighter. “Y-yup.”

  “Cold?”

  “I’m freezing.” My jaw shook with chills, and I gave him an embarrassed, apologetic look.

  Slade started the truck, steered out of the parking lot and turned up the heat. “This old beast might heat up slow, but when it does, it can roast your butt right out of the truck.”

  “Sounds g-good right now.” I thumped my feet up and down and nestled farther into the quilt. Sundance passed by the window in a blur of buildings and snow. I only half paid attention to the town as I peeked over the edge of my quilt cocoon. Soon, another Wyoming highway—a tangible example of my changing path in life—stretched before us, leading northward. The pavement was dark and wet, snaking into a landscape obscured by snowfall and shadowed by the setting sun.

  I rode in silence beside Slade, struggling with chills and knowing I was stepping away from everything I had ever known with a man I knew very, very little about. The choice to leave Matt and the fear and pain he dealt out came with sweet clarity. Going to live with Ilene seemed like such a good choice. Ilene and I had remained close despite the distance between us. And, for nothing more than geographical distance between me and my obsessive abuser, Wyoming was far removed from Michigan.

  Instead of an easy trip to my girlfriend’s in Gillette, fate had delivered me into the arms of a cowboy. I cast him a sidelong glance. Black Stetson, dark hair and icy blue eyes, rugged jaw line, tempting lips. He looks like an angel in Wranglers and fleece. Do I really know anything about him?

  Some part of my soul sang when Slade was near. But I’d been through so much, been beaten so far down by Matt, that trusting any man completely would be damned difficult. Slade returned the glance, a gentle smile on his lips.

  The dry petite snowflakes of earlier changed to fat fluffy ones hitting the windshield while the rustic landscape rolled past the windows. Even Kenny Chesney coming through the radio could not chase away the awkward silence sitting between us like a third passenger. Slade cleared his throat. “Um…so…”

  “This is awkward, huh?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  We both laughed. The release was sorely needed between the two of us. A little tension left my spine, and the cowering posture I had around Matt finally relaxed a fraction.

  “Well, now the ice is broken. No pun intended. Can you tell me about the ranch? I’m a small town girl, so I’ll need all the help and guidance you can give me.”

  “Well, there’s dirt and trees, hills and valleys. We have cows, lots of cows, a few goats, chickens, barn cats and a couple hounds for hunting.”

  “Don’t forget the ponds.”

  Slade laughed again. “How could I? You’re the best thing to come out of one of them.”

  Laughter bubbled up again. I relaxed back into the seat. For all the questions, the great unknown we traveled toward, being with him was easy. Slade sitting beside me was like suede on my skin, soft and comfortable. I asked questions, not only to know what I was getting in to, but to hear him talk. He was my lifeline.

  The Fourth Moon, he told me, was his father Peter Carlson’s dream. They’d only owned the property a short time before his father had earned the nickname Pine for his love of the evergreen trees on the ranch. Bonnie stood by Pine’s side, adding a woman’s touch to the rustic lodge house, and Bonnie named the ranch after the phase of the moon the contract was signed in.

  “A few years later, the first four timeshare houses were built. In less than two years they were sold or rented and another four were built. We have a dozen timeshares now. I swear I grew up with a hammer in my hand instead of a football.”

  “It sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to see it.”

  “You won’t have to wait long. We’re nearly there.” He pointed at the roadside, to the trenches my car had dug into the dirt of the culvert. “Our back driveway is a mile down the road. I found you wandering in there, on our back eighty.”

  I was silent while the truck rolled through a dell, up a small incline and then into the drive. Fuzzy images of the first night shadowed my mood. “Some of this looks familiar.”

  He patted my thigh, a gentle human motion of comfort. I wished it hadn’t sent a jolt up my nerves. “I thought it might. I took this way driving you to the hospital.”

  “Ah.” Not much else came to my mouth even though myriad images and displaced fear occupied my mind.

  Pull yourself out of it, Kally. This is an excellent opportunity to grow and learn. And Ilene is not far away.

  The drive wound in between stands of evergreens and over a rise or two. An occasional aspen waved a pale gold leaf it refused to release. Snow-capped pines covered much of the landscape, though white-clad clearings stretched across the flat lands—a winter wonderland for cross-country skiers or snowmobilers. The woods gave way to a broad open range rumpled by a few small hills and dotted by houses with lights burning in the windows. It was a Saturday Night Post cover made real. The earthy aroma of wood fires suffused the cab of the truck.

  “Wow, something sure smells good.”

  Slade cocked an eyebrow. “What does?”

  “The wood smoke, silly. Don’t you smell it?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I’m used to it.”

  “Really? How could you get used to it? It’s wonderful. I love the smell of a fire. It reminds me of Christmases at my aunt’s in Kalamazoo.”

  “Forgive me in advance, but where the hell is Kalamazoo?”

  A snort escaped me. The word sounded funny coming out of him. I held up my right hand, thumb out and fingers straight up. “Y’see, the bottom half of Michigan is like a mitten.” I pointed to the edge of my palm, below where the life line starts. “Here is Saint Joseph, where I lived my entire life.” I moved my finge
r in toward the lower third of my palm, about one third up from the wrist. “Right about here is Kalamazoo.” I gave him a teasing sidelong glance. “You’d like it there. It’s a big agricultural area…lots of cows.”

  Slade returned the snort. “Ha ha. I thought you thanked God for cows.”

  “I am thankful.”

  “Good because you’ll be living near a herd of them.” He turned the corner and a large empty field and a long, low barn came into view. “This here is one of our winter pastures. And there,” he pointed through the windshield at a rambling log cabin style house, “is our house.”

  The cattle pen was nearly a city block away from the main ranch house. A small barn, a tool shed and another outbuilding stood between the cattle pen and the house. Wooden siding covered the buildings. Forest green trimmed the windows and doors. Black tiles supported the snow disguising the rooflines. Slade parked in the front drive. The house was a rustic, hewn-log home with a huge wrap-around porch. Strings of white lights circled the entire porch, and lights flickered on the floor level to the left of the main door.

  I took the handles of the clothes’ bag, which Slade then took from me. “Let me, okay?”

  “Sure.” I answered him, but I couldn’t take my eyes from the house. It was beautiful, inviting in a cozy, rustic charm sense. Before I knew it, Slade was at my door, with it open and his free hand extended to me.

  “Come on, Miss Jensen. How about you stop looking at it and come in?”

  He offered his hand once more and helped me from the truck, where I stood a moment and absorbed my surroundings—the smell of wood fires, a horse whinnying in the small barn, a Black and Tan Coonhound lying beneath the cover of the porch roofline. When the truck door slammed shut, a ginger tomcat appeared from the shadows of the barn to investigate. He paraded past Slade like he was nothing more than boots on a used scratching post, and then wound his orange body around my ankles before disappearing beneath the porch.

  “Contemptible animal.” Slade took my hand and led me across the icy patch before the steps He scuffed his boots across the heavy natural fiber rug spanning from the steps to the double door. The tracks he wiped his boots in were worn, an obvious path. I stomped my feet, too, knocking the snow loose from the treads.

  The double doors were stained glass windows on top with four C’s linked in a circle in the center and a finished oak panel on the bottom. Slade opened the left door, and warmth poured out, along with the smell of a wood fire, hearty stew and fresh baked bread. The smell was enough to make my stomach growl.

  The foyer was cozy, warm with wood tones and brightened with high-set stained glass windows. Slade kicked his boots off at the door, setting them on one of the empty boot mats lining the wall. He stepped onto the foyer rug, which was emblazoned with the same linked “C” design. I followed his example, leaving my new boots beside his. Beyond, in the great room, slate floors ran throughout and the ceiling vaulted, mimicking the hillside framed by the windows in the back wall. The walls and trim were all stained a medium pine finish. Plush scatter rugs ran between the furniture and caressed my stocking feet when I drifted in, touching this, stroking that.

  The wooden furniture was Missionary Oak, and the upholstery was earthen tones of rust, browns and greens. Lights twinkled from decorative ficus trees and across the hearth, winding through swags of natural pine branches and dried berries. Slade pulled two pairs of slippers from a basket beside the sofa. The over-padded armchairs begged to be sat on, and the end table beside the sofa suggested a romance novel and a cup of coffee. The fireplace took up much of the back wall with the sides, chimney and hearth of natural field stone. A warm crackling fire danced in the hearth and seemed to whisper to itself.

  “Oh my. This is beautiful.”

  “Glad you think so. Welcome home, Kally.”

  Slade and Kally: Letting Go of the Reins, Book 1

  Chapter Six

  What did I just say?

  Slade swallowed hard, but the words had already escaped. He could’ve kicked himself. It wouldn’t have been an exactly sane exhibition for her first moments in the house. He always used her proper name. Calling her “Miss” kept distance between them. Distance was comfortable. Distance was easy. The heat he felt rising when they were close was not. Her proper moniker had become his shield. Her first name had just slipped past it and his gut somersaulted. But then it settled.

  He flexed his fingers, fidgeted his toes, while his gaze coursed her face and body, registering her reactions. The elfin look returned when she inhaled—small, delicate and vulnerable. Air from the ceiling fan pushed stray strands of blonde hair past her eyes. Her gaze flitted around the room, first alighting on a piece of furniture then watching the dance of the flames before looking back at him. In her irises he saw strength and fear, freedom and lingering doubts. He lived a lifetime in that moment, trying to reassure Kally without saying a word.

  She exhaled and her total demeanor changed. Kally softened. Tension left her face, her shoulders dropped, her lips parted, full and kissable soft, before the corners turned up in a slight smile, and he was glad.

  Slade hoped she would be comfortable at the Fourth Moon. He hoped she’d stay. The hard lines of the Mission furniture benefited from her feminine curves. The firelight looked good flickering over her face. She was a very beautiful addition to his home and life.

  Home. I hadn’t felt “at home” in a year. In simplest terms, Matt’s house was his, not mine. Susan’s house was the closest thing I had to a home, and it wasn’t mine, wasn’t even decorated in a style I felt comfortable sitting on. This house, so new to me, offered a real sense of comfort. A sense of settled love exuded from every corner, every piece of furniture.

  “You all right, Miss Jensen?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I can get kind of quiet when I’m taking things in, and this house is a lot to take in. It’s so much more than I’d imagined. I can see myself curled up by your fireplace, sinking into one of the armchairs.”

  “How about seeing yourself at a table with a bowl of stew in your hands, first? The fire will be there all winter.”

  “Only you using my first name sounds better.”

  Slade, for the first time, seemed shy. He tipped his hat, hiding a half-smile and blushed cheeks. He looked at his feet, and then back up to me. “I’m working on it. We were raised to address a lady properly.”

  “Well, then relax, cowboy. I’m far from a lady.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  He’d called my bluff with playful banter and our gazes locked. My mouth ran dry of quick retorts and I stood open and vulnerable, no verbal weapons and no place to retreat in this new environment. Slade’s hand rested on my jaw line, the warmth of his skin sent pleasant tingles through me when he rubbed my cheek with his thumb. His lips parted, but he was cut off by a loud clatter, which echoed in the great room, followed by a muffled curse. “Damn it!”

  Slade hurried to the left, past a painting of a Wyoming sunset and into the kitchen, with me directly behind him. He skidded to a stop, inches from a pile of pots and pans on the floor. “Rosie, are you okay? Didn’t I ask you to leaving the cleaning up to me?”

  A petite, dark haired woman of Native American descent stood beside a butcher-block countertop, apron askew and long dark bangs tumbled forward and covering her eyes. “My apologies, Slade.” She pushed stray hair away from her face. “I just wanted the kitchen to be clean, and everything just right when Ms. Jensen arrived.”

  “A house isn’t lived in if it isn’t a little dirty, Rosie.” He stooped to gather the dishes. “Mother always believes a perfect house won’t win over a person. It’s the hospitality that will keep them around.”

  She pushed a lid on to an empty storage bowl. “But, still…”

  I was eager to reassure her. “The house is beautiful, Rosie.” I smiled when she met my gaze. “And the stew smells amazing.”

  “Oh, Miss Jensen.” Rosie pushed her hair back and wiped her hand on the apron
before stepping forward to shake my hand.

  “Rosie.” Slade placed a hand on my shoulder. “Please allow me to properly introduce you to Kally Jensen. Kally, this is Rosie Thompson. She’s like a second mother to me.”

  Rosie’s hand was warm and strong when she shook my hand. “It is good to see you walking and talking instead of shivering in Slade’s arms.”

  “I certainly can’t shiver in such a wonderful sweater now can I?”

  “How did you know I made it?”

  “I’m not exactly sure.” I shifted my feet, ran my fingers down a cable of knitting. “When my gut speaks so strongly, I know it’s right, and I just know you knitted this sweater. Thank you so much!”

  Her eyes sparkled, giving her a bird-like appearance. “You are most welcome, my dear. Like you, I just knew I needed to make it. I started knitting that sweater this summer.”

  Rosie acted on the whispers in her soul—I liked her. “Is the stew ready? I’d love to eat something other than hospital food.”

  Slade took three pottery bowls from the dishwasher and balanced them against his arm while he wrapped spoons and butter knives in his other hand. “Can you grab some glasses, Kally?” Slade nodded his head in the direction of a cabinet. “They’re in the cupboard to the left of the sink.”

  Being included in daily tasks instead of doing them all was a treat. “Gladly. What’s to drink?”

  “There’s water, milk, sweet tea. Rosie, is there any coffee?”

  Rosie nodded her head and pulled the pot out of the coffee maker. I shook my head. “Oh, no coffee for me, thanks. I don’t want to ruin my sleep tonight.”

  “Well, can you fill one up for me, Rosie?” Slade carried the bowls to the table, while Rosie and I stayed in the kitchen to fill two mugs with coffee and a glass with water. She nudged me, and I turned to her while I waited for the water to run cold. “I am very glad you came back, Miss Jensen. It will be so nice to share the holidays with someone new.”

  “Thank you, Rosie. I’m happy Slade invited me here. I bet this place is beautiful when it’s decorated for Christmas.”