From the Boots Up

by Marquette, Andi

  “What’s the next story you’ll be working on?”

  “Not sure. I have a few ideas, but my editor has a few, too, so we’ll see what happens.”

  “Are you an investigative journalist, then?”

  “I like to think so. But I also do reporting, too, on local events.”

  “So exciting,” Marjorie said, a little wistful. “I flirted with journalism back in my college days, but my path went in a different direction.”

  Gina gave her arm a squeeze, and Meg felt a little pang of envy. “You’re a talented artist,” Gina said. “And as long as it makes you happy, keep doing it. That’s ultimately what it’s all about.”

  “True. What makes you happy, Meg?” Marjorie turned to her, catching her off guard.

  “Um.” She stared into the fire. “Wyoming. Ranching. Studying to be a vet. And meeting people like you.” She directed her attention to Marjorie. “And you,” she added, looking at Gina.

  “Oh, my.” Marjorie put her left arm around Meg’s shoulders and gave her a half-hug. “I have had the best time this week. Coming here was exactly what I needed.”

  “Same here,” Gina said softy, another smile dancing at the corners of her mouth.

  “Well, I’m going to chit-chat with a few others. I’ll see you girls tomorrow.”

  “’Night, Marjie,” Meg said.

  “See you later,” Gina added. She moved a little closer, and Meg silently rejoiced. “I heard a rumor.”

  “About what?”

  “Your birthday.”

  “Oh, yeah. That.” Meg shrugged. Friday, and the day Gina was leaving. Didn’t seem like such a great day.

  “Where I come from, birthdays are a big deal.”

  “California? Or Italy?”

  “Both. My grandmother would stuff you so full of Italian cooking that you’d barely be able to move. Then we’d have to set off firecrackers, have a dance party, and maybe sing a bit. Huge deal.”

  “What, no snipe hunt?”

  Gina laughed, and again Meg wanted to somehow capture the sound and carry it around so she could listen to it whenever she wanted. “I could totally instigate that,” she said. “So what do you have planned?”

  “Not sure. Alice will make a cake to go with dinner. A few of us might go to town and catch some music at the River Rest.”

  “Well, if my schedule works out, I’ll try to make it. I’m on deadline,” she finished, apologetic.

  Meg caught her gaze, and she wanted to say something in response like “that’s really nice of you” or “oh, cool” or even “thanks” but she couldn’t, because the warmth in Gina’s eyes and the little hint of mystery and mischief that lingered on her smile took any words she had and tossed them onto the night breeze.

  “Hey,” Davey said to her. He greeted Gina with a formal “Miss Morelli.”

  Meg looked up at him. He blocked her view of the fire, which irritated her.

  “You clear to do a trail ride tomorrow morning with Mark?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Thanks.” He gave Gina a look and moved away, to the other side of the fire, where he sat near Jackson. Meg watched him for a few moments, and caught him looking her way twice, but he looked away both times. He was still pissed, it seemed, about what she’d said to him. Whatever. Wasn’t her problem. She gladly turned her attention back to Gina, and they chatted a bit more for another half-hour or so before Gina excused herself to go do some writing.

  “Catch you tomorrow,” she said as she stood.

  “Yep. Watch out for snipe,” Meg said. “They can get ornery around here.”

  Gina laughed again and the sound trailed after her as she left.

  Meg got up, too, so she could do the social thing and talk to some of the guests and her dad. She glanced over toward Davey, and caught him looking at her again, with what might have been a glare. She sighed. She’d probably have to talk to him yet again. But not tonight. She was still holding on to the glow of spending a little more time with Gina.

  Meg hummed as she cinched Rusty’s saddle and checked his bridle. All good. She led him the few yards to the paddock fence and quick-tied his reins to it before she returned to the stable to retrieve a saddle for the last horse she and Mark needed to prepare for the ride. She stepped inside and nearly ran into Gina, who was talking to Mark. She held a saddle, and a blanket lay across it. She was also wearing a well-used tan cowboy hat.

  “Morning,” she said to Meg.

  “Hey,” she answered, looking first at Mark then at the saddle Gina held, then at her hat, and there was nothing she wanted to do more than pull her into a kiss. She envisioned herself leaning over the saddle, putting her hand on the back of Gina’s neck, and just—

  “I asked Mark if I could ride Daisy today. Is that cool with you, too?”

  “Um.” She snapped out of her daydream and cleared her throat. “Sure. I was just going to saddle her.” She stepped forward, hands out.

  “I’ve got it,” Gina said with a little grin. “Can you grab her bridle, though?”

  “Okay.”

  Mark took it off its hook and handed it to her. “I’ll get some folks mounted up.”

  She took the bridle. “Thanks.” Before she could say anything else, Gina walked past her out into the pen. Meg followed, thinking that maybe Mark had shown her how to saddle a horse.

  Gina settled the blanket and saddle onto Daisy’s back like a pro, and quickly got her cinched and adjusted properly.

  “Bridle?”

  Meg handed it to her, and watched with appreciation and surprise as she inserted the bit expertly into Daisy’s mouth and slid the headpiece over Daisy’s ears. She checked the straps, and made sure the noseband, cheek pieces and throat lash fit properly.

  “How did I do?” she asked, a little glint in her eyes.

  “Well, hell. This ain’t your first rodeo.”

  “My grandfather owns a farm outside Sacramento. He’s got a few horses.” She smiled and put her left foot in the stirrup and swung gracefully into the saddle.

  “You didn’t say anything about that,” Meg said, glancing at Gina’s well-worn and well-cared for black roper boots. They added an exclamation point to her earlier thought about kissing her.

  “You didn’t ask.” She gave her another little smile.

  Meg pushed the brim of her hat back and looked up at her. “And here I was just going to show you how to saddle Daisy, thinking you’re all city slicker, but no.” She laughed.

  “At which point I would’ve told you about my nonno’s farm.”

  “Good to know that you wouldn’t have let me deliver my saddle instruction.”

  “I’m sure it’s excellent.” She regarded her, a teasing little sparkle in her eyes. She rested her hands on the saddle horn, reins between the thumb and index finger of her left hand.

  “Well, too bad. You won’t find out for sure.”

  “I could pretend to be a city slicker damsel in distress so you can feel you’ve done your proper training protocol.”

  Meg shook her head. “Nah.”

  “I figured.”

  “Figured what?”

  “That you’re not the damsel in distress type.”

  “Oh? So what type am I?”

  Gina pretended to size her up. “I’m guessing leather and latigo.”

  Though she didn’t know how she managed, she kept her voice steady. “Huh. So what type are you?”

  She smiled and clicked her tongue as she urged Daisy into a walk, toward the group of other riders. She looked back over her shoulder at Meg. “I think you know,” she said, and Meg stared after her.

  A little flirting was okay, she tried to convince herself. Neither of them had said anything improper or unprofessional. But damn, the delivery left her weak in the knees. She went to retrieve Rusty so she could help Mark get everybody settled, though most likely, everyone on this ride had ridden at least once during the past week.

  Meg let Mark take the lead in explaining the
basics for the ride. If he needed her input, he’d ask. She swung into Rusty’s saddle and backed him up a few paces, giving everyone else room to follow Mark. Gina caught her eye and she granted her another one of her damn smiles before she took a position in the middle of the group. An attraction, Alice had called it. Attractions had to be worse than crushes, because she practically burned every time she looked at Gina. Or thought about her.

  She steered Rusty up the path into the National Forest, listening to Mark joke with Jerry, one of the guests. He looked to be in his forties. He wore hikers with his jeans instead of boots, and Meg actually appreciated that he wasn’t trying to pretend to be something he wasn’t. Sometimes people showed up decked out in brand new western wear that came from some kind of designer store, and they then attempted to play cowboy. Or cowgirl. Fortunately, that didn’t happen very often. Her diplomacy was severely tested with guests like that.

  She watched Gina ride, and she knew that she’d been accurately pegged. Meg liked confident, competent women who didn’t mind getting their jeans a little dirty, changing their own tires, or saddling their own horses. And she liked a woman who took time to appreciate stars, a fireside gathering, and a morning horseback ride. And she had a feeling that Gina appreciated that, too. Did she maybe appreciate those things about Meg? Or was she just one of those types of people who said things to get a reaction, and who didn’t really mean anything by the comments they made or the way they said them? She’d dated a woman like that a few years back, and it bugged her, though the sex had been good. She probably should have just stopped that relationship at the sex and not tried to make something out of it that it wasn’t.

  Better stop thinking about sex.

  Right now.

  She eased Rusty forward to check on the others, eight total, then dropped to the back where she could keep an eye on slower riders. Gina had ridden ahead and was chatting with Mark again. Probably gathering more information for the story. The trail took them up into aspen, leaves rustling in the breeze, their light undersides flashing and dancing in the sunlight. Underbrush clogged the forest floor, and the horses picked their way carefully over the trail, single-file.

  “Hey, hold up, folks,” Mark called from the front of the column, slowing his horse in a stand of aspen.

  Meg looked up and the other riders watched him, expectant.

  “I have an announcement to make. Tomorrow is our very own Meg’s birthday.”

  Oh, shit. Meg smiled, embarrassed, as claps and whistles greeted this news.

  “So if any of you would like to ring in Meg’s new year in style, we’ll be taking her dancin’ and carousin’ in Saratoga tomorrow night after supper. Just meet up at the motel and we’ll designate some drivers. Spread the word. We’ll be going to the River Rest. Can’t miss it. Saratoga’s not that big. But ask if you’d like directions.”

  “How old are you now?” asked Jerry.

  “Sixteen. But don’t tell anyone at the bar,” Mark answered for her.

  Meg groaned good-naturedly. “Thanks, everyone. I appreciate it.” To Jerry, she said, “I’ll be twenty-five.”

  “Oh, that was a good year for me,” he said. “Hope yours starts out the way you want.”

  She caught Gina’s gaze. “Me, too.” She jerked her attention back to him and smiled.

  “And now back to our regularly scheduled ride.” Mark wheeled his horse back to the lead.

  Gina left the line and brought Daisy in next to Meg. “I’ll see you there,” she said. “Save some party for me.” She grinned and went back to her place in the column, leaving Meg both aching and dreading tomorrow night. Aching because she’d see Gina but dreading because that would definitely mark the end of her stay. Unless she was planning to extend a night. She might want to check on that, she thought, as she settled into the rhythm of hooves thudding against the hard-packed earth of the trail, and the peppery smell of aspen bark that trailed after them.

  Seven

  Meg checked the guest register later that afternoon, but Gina hadn’t extended a night. She was still slated to check out tomorrow. Maybe she’d stay in town, then, if she really did plan to show up at the River Rest.

  “Hi, hon,” Stan said as he entered.

  She hurriedly clicked out of the register. “Just wanting to see how many we’ve got coming in.”

  “Not quite a full house, but we might get some latecomers for the weekend.” He placed a stack of mail on his desk. “I need you to make a run to Laramie and then the feed store tomorrow morning. We’ve got enough folks to get guests settled. But you’re off tomorrow after dinner and Saturday. Birthday celebration and all.” He gave her a wink. “Be safe.”

  “Yes, dad,” she said in her best imitation of a teenager. She got up from the chair. “Are you going to come?”

  “For a little bit. I’m kinda old these days. Need my beauty rest.”

  She punched him lightly on the arm. “Poor Dutchie.”

  He smiled and handed her a couple of envelopes. “Could you take these to Alice?”

  “Yep. And thanks for Saturday.”

  He nodded. “You work hard, hon. You always have.” He paused, like he was trying to figure out what to say next. “You’re the best damn daughter a man could hope to have.”

  She stared at him.

  “And I’m real proud of you. How well you do at school, how much you help around here. Hell, there are days I don’t know how I get through without you.”

  “Dad? Everything okay?” she asked, half-joking.

  “Just some stuff on my mind I wanted to tell you.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” She gave him a hug, thinking that things seemed comfortable again between them, like before she’d told him she was gay. See you at dinner.” She stepped toward the door.

  “Oh, and Gina tells me that she’s had a hell of a good time the past week. Said this is the most fun she’s had on a story.”

  “Told you it would be all right.”

  “Thanks, darling daughter, for putting an old man’s fears to rest,” he said plaintively.

  She rolled her eyes. “Later, Dutchie. I’ve got mail to deliver.” She waved the envelopes and left, the weight in one part of her world alleviated.

  Dinner and the fire were disappointing, though, because Gina didn’t stick around. She probably had to finish up the story, and Meg chided herself for once again allowing a crush to override common sense. Gina was a reporter, there to do a job. She was friendly and professional, and maybe what Meg thought was flirting wasn’t. After all, Gina had to have boundaries when she worked, just like most people. And maybe she was reading way too much into some of Gina’s comments.

  Which sucked. But she really didn’t have anything to go on. Just her own stupid crush. Or attraction. Whatever the hell it was.

  Somehow, she wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow, which came too quickly.

  She was out of bed early and on her way to Laramie before things got really busy at the ranch. Alice had stocked her with a travel mug of coffee and a couple of cinnamon rolls, but she hated missing breakfast and maybe seeing Gina. Jesus, it was like she had a virus or something. Or worse, an addiction.

  And she hadn’t gotten her number yet.

  For networking, like Alice said.

  After lunch. She’d get it then. For sure.

  But when she parked the truck next to the office after she’d returned and unloaded it, she realized that Gina’s Pathfinder was gone. She strode into the office, ribcage closing in on her heart like walls collapsing over a foundation. She clicked the mouse at the computer on the desk and stared at the screen. Checked out, at eight that morning. She exited the window and stared at the screen for a few minutes before she left, teeth clenched together. And it wouldn’t have mattered had she taken one of the ranch’s cell phones with her on her errands because Gina didn’t have the numbers for them. And like a dumb-ass, she didn’t have Gina’s number. Not that it mattered. No guarantee she could have gotten through out here.

>   She saw Davey in the parking lot, on his way to the dining hall.

  “Hey,” she said.

  He waited.

  “Do you know when Gina left?” She hated asking him, but she sure as hell didn’t want to ask her dad, who might pick up on her mood about it and she definitely didn’t want to ask Alice, because she already knew too much.

  “Around eight. Guess she got a call from her boss early this morning and they needed her to do something, so she had to leave early.” He shrugged, but he sounded almost happy about it.

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like whether she was planning to follow up on the story here?” Or if she was planning on going to the River Rest that night? But Meg didn’t voice that part.

  “Not really. Just said she had to leave.”

  She nodded, slowly.

  He gave her a smug look and continued toward the hall. She refrained from calling him an asshole.

  “Hi, hon. Everything go okay?”

  She turned toward Stan. “Yeah. Unloaded, receipts on the desk.”

  “Good. Thanks. And your mom called this morning.”

  She swallowed her groan.

  “She wants to wish you a happy birthday.”

  “Okay. I’ll give her a call.” She went back to the office, not wanting to get into a discussion about Gina with him. After all, to him, she was just a reporter who came out to do a job. Dealing with her mom right now seemed to fit her mood. She half-listened to Irene talk about her latest social event, thanked her for calling to wish her a happy birthday, and she’d let her know when she got the package from Kentucky. Knowing her mom, it was another girlie blouse that she’d never wear. Good thing they usually fit Janice or Anna.

  The conversation ended and Meg hung up, grateful that at least this time, her mom didn’t ask her if she’d met any nice young men. She sighed, frustrated and more than a little hurt that Gina had just up and left, after she’d made a show yesterday of telling her she’d see her at her birthday gathering. She sat brooding, staring at the wall.