“I’m dying,” he gasped.
His bride didn’t hear him. She’d already disappeared into the bathroom, and he could hear the shower running.
Slowly, carefully, and with much aching and groaning, Ryder levered himself out of bed. His biceps burned, likely from throwing hay. His backside complained of rough treatment on the back of the four-wheeler, and his legs moaned in pain from the unaccustomed exercise of gripping a horse’s sides. And to top it off, he had a killer headache. He wanted to lift his hands to his sore temples, but he didn’t want to be found sobbing like a baby when Willa came out of her shower.
Instead, he shuffled off to the bathroom down the hall like an old man.
By the time he made it to the kitchen, Willa had already finished her breakfast and was sitting at the table, eyeing him with some sympathy. At his place at the table was a fragrant cup of coffee and a bottle of pain reliever. Ryder felt a surge of optimism at the evidence of her caring gesture, but it evaporated when she asked kindly, “Do you give up yet?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he growled, lowering himself carefully into the chair across from her. Pride didn’t stop him from immediately uncapping the bottle of Tylenol, though, and shaking four out into his hand.
She shrugged. “You did well yesterday. Better than I thought you would, actually, but there’s no shame in admitting when you’re beat.”
“I’m just a little sore,” Ryder replied, gulping the pills down with hot coffee and praying for quick, blessed relief. “Let’s go.”
By the time the sky had lightened from black to a chilly leaden grey that promised rain later in the day, Ryder had overcome most of his stiffness and was throwing bales of hay with, if not spectacular skill, at least competence. After they’d finished up the morning’s chores, they ran into Brodie in the main barn.
“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you today.” The other man laughed, punching Ryder lightly on the arm. Ryder fought back a grimace.
“Little achy. No big deal.”
“Uh huh,” Brodie said, smiling. “Well, I was wondering if you wanted a project. Might not be as fun as what Willa’s got going on, but it’s just as important. I’ve got a calf who needs to be bottle fed.”
“We’ve got a bottle feeder?” Willa asked. “When did this happen?”
“Looks like last night,” Brodie answered. “One of the cows gave birth to twins and rejected one. It’s not looking good,” he added, his face serious. “I’ve got her in one of the pens in the back. She’s going to need a lot of care if she makes it through at all.”
“Are you up for this?” Willa asked Ryder. “It’s harder work than it sounds.”
“Lead the way,” Ryder replied, just glad to have something to do that wouldn’t involve a four-wheeler. Even playing mommy to a motherless cow sounded better than that.
Five
The struggle between life and death was a battle that never ended in ranch life, and even though she had seen all there was to see in her years at the Circle G, Willa never became comfortable with the sight of one of God’s creatures suffering. Huddled in the back of the small pen was a dark colored lump of fur. She quietly approached the calf, who didn’t even respond when she touched its shivering flank. The calf was too weak to lift its head.
“She’s chilled,” Willa murmured to Ryder, who had come up silently to stand beside her. “Not much muscle tone. I’m not sure we’re going to have any luck with this one.”
He crouched down beside her and laid a gentle hand on the calf’s side. “Tell me what to do,” he said softly.
“We’ve got some colostrum saved for situations like this. It’s the milk that’s produced for a few days after a cow gives birth. The calves need the extra nourishment that it provides. Stay here, and I’ll go get it.”
When Willa returned, Ryder had pulled the 40-pound calf onto his lap and covered it with his new coat. She sent one of the hands for blankets and hot water bottles.
“Well, don’t you two look nice and cozy.”
Ryder looked up at her, concern on his face. “She’s not moving.”
“All right,” Willa said briskly, all business again. “We call it bottle feeding, but you’re probably going to have to use this at first.” She handed him what looked like a turkey baster and supervised as he drew some of the yellowish liquid up and squeezed a few drops into the calf’s mouth. Its tongue moved a little bit, but the calf’s eyes were rolled back, and it was too weak to swallow. “A little further back,” she instructed, “and massage her throat gently to help her get it down.”
Ryder did as she asked, and after a few more minutes of watching, she reluctantly decided that he’d do just fine. “She might not make it,” Willa warned him, not wanting to paint too dark of a picture of the situation, but also not wanting to give Ryder false hope. “She looks like she’s closer to dead than alive. I’ve had calves that look better than this not survive.”
He met her eyes over the animal’s dark head, and her heart gave a hard thump at the combination of love and determination she saw there. “Go do what you have to do. We’ll be fine,” he said. “Just fine.”
Several hours later, when Willa returned to find Ryder sprawled on his back in the straw, fast asleep, and the calf that had been sleeping next to him lifted its head and gave a quiet moo at her approach, she knew that yes, they would be just fine.
After the first few painful mornings, in which Ryder woke up feeling as if he’d been stampeded by bulls the day before, Ryder and Willa’s lives fell into a comfortable routine. They woke early, had breakfast together, and took to the fields to take care of the stock. Then, Ryder went off to take care of Beulah the calf and learn more about working with horses, and Willa headed the opposite direction to handle her duties for the day. They then met up around six most nights, got cleaned up, and then had a companionable dinner together before watching some television and going to bed.
Willa still wasn’t completely over her shyness when it came to sleeping in the same bed with Ryder—somehow, she always ended up tangled up around him in the morning—but she was beginning to understand the appeal of being married. When she came home in the evenings, the house wasn’t quiet. Or, if it was, it wouldn’t be for long. Ryder kept her laughing with his stories about Beulah the calf, who had officially adopted him as her momma, or sharing a joke he’d heard that day from Brodie. Mrs. Hollis always prepared their meals and left them in the oven on warm or in the refrigerator to heat up, but they shared dish duty afterwards. He washed, she dried. And when they went to bed at night, his body was a big, solid, and warm bulk at her back that she knew she’d miss if she ever had to sleep alone again. A month into their marriage, everything seemed to be finally running along smoothly.
Except that Willa didn’t think Ryder was attracted to her anymore.
They’d talked and talked, sharing stories about their lives, their likes and dislikes, biggest fears—Ryder’s was heights and Willa’s was shots—but he didn’t give any indication that they were nearing the end of the “getting to know you” stage and ready to move on to the next “mysterious benefits of marriage” stage. They kissed goodbye every morning, but more and more, Willa was wondering if the crazy exhilaration she felt when their lips touched was one-sided. Was he viewing her as a friend and a roommate now, or heaven help her, one of the guys instead of as his wife?
She was worrying herself sick over the question, rather than entering the wholesale beef order numbers on her computer, when Mrs. Hollis poked her tightly curled head into the office. “You want some iced tea or anything before I head out?” she asked.
“No. Um, I mean, yes please. Maybe you could bring one for yourself, too, and we could sit for a while?” The woman gave her a strange look but nodded briskly and headed back toward the kitchen for drinks. Was she really thinking about asking Mrs. Hollis for advice? The housekeeper had always been a part of Willa’s life, but they’d never had a very close relationship. She honestly wasn’t even
sure if the woman liked her. And maybe the “Mrs.” in her name was just an honorary one. She didn’t know if there even was or ever had been a Mr. Hollis.
But, too soon, the housekeeper was back. She pulled out a chair across from Willa’s grandfather’s big desk and collapsed back into it with a satisfied sigh, crossing her booted feet at the ankles. Looking around the office curiously, from the big stuffed buck’s head mounted on one wall to the thick burgundy carpet under their feet, she asked in her typical straightforward way, “Have you thought about changing things up in here? Making it a little more girly?”
“When have you ever known me to be girly?” Willa asked in a dry tone, and the older woman chuckled.
“I guess you got a point there,” she replied. “So, what’s on your mind? You’ve never asked me to have a sit down with you in the middle of the day before. Or a sit down at all, for that matter.”
Willa opened her mouth, but the words she wanted wouldn’t come out. “Is there a Mr. Hollis?” she asked instead.
Mrs. Hollis let out a loud bark of laughter, her bird-bright eyes almost disappearing in the wrinkles around them. “Well of course there is, girl. You think I’m an imposter?”
“Why have I never met him?”
If possible, Mrs. Hollis laughed even harder. “You have!” she finally choked out. “A few times! Remember old Harvey? Been here working for your grandfather nigh on twenty-six years?”
Willa pictured the grizzled, stocky old cowhand she’d known since she was a child and slapped her forehead. “Duh, Harvey Hollis! How did I not know you two were married?” Probably because she’d never heard Harvey speak more than four words at a time and had never seen the two of them together. And now, putting a face to Mr. Hollis, she really didn’t want to continue her line of questioning.
Mrs. Hollis wiped her eyes and took a big gulp of her iced tea. “Oh, child, you really don’t see much beyond your own nose, do you.” The words seemed harsh, but her tone was almost kind. “If it doesn’t have to do directly with the goings on here at the Circle G, it doesn’t exist for you. I have a feeling that your young man is opening your eyes a bit, though. Am I right?” Mrs. Hollis gave her a wink, and Willa thought she’d fall out of her chair. The housekeeper had never shown Willa this mischievous side.
Well, it was now or never. She scrunched her eyes shut. “Not as much as I’d like,” she blurted. “Mrs. Hollis, how do I get him to go to bed with me?”
When the woman didn’t immediately answer, Willa tentatively peeked at her face. The housekeeper wore a dumbfounded expression. “You two sleep together every night. You’re married and have been for a whole month, for Pete’s sake! You mean you haven’t . . .” She waved a hand in a vague circular motion.
“Not yet,” Willa admitted miserably. “We agreed to get to know each other better first, but now I’m not sure how to let him know I’m ready to take things beyond the friend zone and be a real wife.”
“Hmm.” Mrs. Hollis leaned back and set her tea down on the side table. “I never had kids. Didn’t think I’d ever be in the position to give the birds and the bees talk.”
“I know how things work. I own a ranch.”
“Well, a bull and a cow are a little more . . . basic. Hopefully you’ll be happily surprised to find out the difference. But as to the . . . wooing . . . you just have to let him know that you’re ready to take things to the next step.”
“I can’t just tell him, though,” Willa protested. “I’d die of embarrassment first. And what if he’s changed his mind?”
“Oh, I’m sure he hasn’t. I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Mrs. Hollis chuckled. “You’d have to be a lot older than I am to miss seeing the sparks that fly from that man’s eyes when you come into view. But if you can’t tell him straight out that you’re ready for him, you need to show him. Men are very simple creatures. Flirt with him. He’ll get the idea pretty quick. And another thing . . . you need to show Ryder that he’s important to you and make him a priority. I know you’re a busy girl, but if you want to make a successful marriage, you have to make sure you’re making time for your man, too.”
Mrs. Hollis gave her a teasing smile and another wink, smoothing down her sweatshirt, this one with sparkly cardinals embroidered on the front. “Speaking of which, I’m off to make my man a special dinner and do some flirting of my own. Maybe you should take Ryder into town and get a restaurant meal for a change.”
As the housekeeper gathered up the empty glasses and left the room with a definite spring in her step, Willa dropped her head into her folded arms. Mrs. Hollis had given her a lot to think about, but she and Harvey flirting? That was a mental picture she could do without.
Ryder came into the house whistling. It had been a good day—Beulah had taken to the bottle with a minimum of spilled milk, and she was putting on pounds every day. He was a little worried about her umbilical stump. He didn’t know anything about what it was supposed to look like, but having spent so much time with the calf, he’d noticed it was looking a little swollen and felt warm to the touch. He reminded himself to ask Willa what she thought.
Willa. He couldn’t wait to see her. It was the same every day. Coming home was half-pleasure, half-torture. He looked forward to every second he was able to spend with her, but he didn’t know how much longer he could be patient in the marital relations department. He went to the sink and started soaping up his hands.
“Hey.” Her husky voice made him jump. It was like he’d conjured Willa from his thoughts. But when he turned to look over his shoulder to greet her, his tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She wasn’t wearing her usual flannel shirt and jeans. Instead, she had on a flowing, multicolored skirt that outlined her long legs with each little movement and a loose peasant-style embroidered top. But her hair was the most striking change. She’d left the dark mass of it long and loose, spilling over her shoulders, with only the sides pulled back into tiny braids that fastened at the back of her head. She smiled at him shyly. “I was wondering if you wanted to go into town tonight? Mrs. Hollis needed a night off from cooking.”
Mutely, he nodded and cleared his throat. “Sure. Ah, let me just shower the barn smell off of me, and I’ll be ready.”
After what seemed like the quickest shower he’d ever taken in his life, Ryder shaved, slapped on some cologne and put on khakis and a blue button-down shirt. In just the short time he’d been at the ranch, the clothes already felt unfamiliar, but tying his Converse sneakers was like welcoming an old friend.
Willa wasn’t sure that dinner had been such a good idea. The long ride into town was a little bit awkward, but after Ryder pulled out her chair for her and slid into his own across the candlelit table, he gave her his familiar teasing grin that immediately made her feel more at ease. “Mrs. Pearce, are we out on a date?”
“Why yes, Mr. Pearce,” she replied, giving him a testing flutter of her eyelashes. “I think we are.” It might have technically been flirting, according to Google, but Willa was pretty sure it just looked like she had dust in her eyes.
“Then, if I may, I’d like to tell you how gorgeous you look. Where did you have those clothes hidden away? I’ve never seen them in our closet.”
She brushed at the white blouse self-consciously. “They were my mother’s. I don’t have any dresses of my own.”
“That’s okay,” Ryder assured her. “They look as if they were made for you. But you look just as beautiful in your everyday clothes.”
She was saved from scrambling for a reply as the waiter came by just then to take their order. After he’d brought their drinks back—Ryder had insisted on a glass of champagne once he’d heard Willa had never tried it—Ryder thankfully moved their conversation back to more comfortable territory. They were laughing about the tooth marks he swore he sported on his shoulder from his efforts to win over Franklin, the angry black gelding, when their food arrived.
Willa had steak. Ryder had fish. “No red meat today?” she asked, pointing a fork at
his plate.
He shook his head sheepishly. “Maybe after I’m done bottle feeding Beulah.”
As they walked back to her truck through the chilly, moonlit parking lot, Ryder casually held her hand. She couldn’t help but notice that his palms were already rougher than they had been on the day of their wedding. She wondered for a heated moment what they’d feel like against her skin, and how soon she could find out. He stopped her at the truck. “You know, I was so distracted earlier when I got home that I forgot something.” He stepped forward, and she shivered at the contrast between the cold metal from the truck at her back and the warmth from his body. “I forgot to kiss my wife.”
She wasn’t sure if the feeling came from the champagne’s tickly bubbles earlier or just the heady nearness of Ryder. Was it the mouthwatering scent of his aftershave or the fact that he tasted like the chocolate mousse they’d had for dessert? Whatever the reason, Willa went lightheaded and weak in the knees all at the same time. Determined to do as Mrs. Hollis had suggested and show him she was ready, instead of passively allowing him to kiss her, she stepped into his embrace and lifted a hand to run her fingers through the silky, longish strands of his hair. He murmured his approval against her lips and angled his head to deepen the kiss, running one broad palm down her back. Feeling braver at his obvious enjoyment, she nipped at his bottom lip and smiled, feeling the stir of feminine power for the first time when he groaned and broke away, breathing heavily.
“One hundred percent best after-date kiss ever,” he growled.
“Who says our date has to be over?” She was rewarded for her boldness by the gleam in his eyes and the wicked smile that appeared on his lips.
Sweethearts in South Dakota (At the Altar Book 14) Page 5
