by Jade Cary
He pulled me onto his lap. “And you’re the greatest kind of woman: Beautiful, humble, sexy.”
“What a wretched thing to say.” And then I kissed him good and proper.
Not Like Any Other Man
The Indigo Ranch lay in a contiguous block six miles up toward the Madison Range and three miles along Highway 287 to what’s known as the Lee Metcalf Wilderness boundary. Rolling grass foothills covered the land to the mighty Sphinx Mountain, which rose majestically above. Jack Creek meandered through the property, lined with cottonwoods. Willows and aspens, yellow with new fall color, dotted the banks of year-round springs fed by the Madison river, a quarter mile of which flowed in front of a small log home used by the ranch manager before meandering down the property until it bordered the highway again. Mountain meadows covered much of the remaining property. The Indigo had been a dairy ranch when my father bought it, but dairying had been usurped by steaking by then and the ranch came at a good price. It was a cow’s final home before being taken to slaughter. While hay production and catching, training, breeding and selling the wild horses caught in the Pryor Mountains near the Wyoming border made for Asher Ranch’s major revenue, we didn’t do too badly in the beef business. We were small but profitable. Now it belonged to Jed.
“I have always loved this property, Jed.” It, too, was bench property. The main pasture was golden brown as fall settled and winter thought about making an appearance. The log home, occupied by a long-time Asher Ranch hand by the name of Chris Perkins, sat back and to my right, giving him a clear view of most of the profitable parts of the property while also giving one of the best views in the Madison valley.
“What will you do?” I whispered.
He wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Leave things as they are, for now. Chris has a handle on it and the ranch makes a good profit. I’m not looking to make a change just yet.”
I turned in his arms. “You’d look good living here but I’d miss you so much, not having you close.”
“I haven’t decided on anything yet.” He smiled down at me. “The more important question, Miss Asher, is what will you do?”
“I’m feeling the pull, Jed. A pull back to the land.” I tucked myself into his side and took in the view. “I have a full life back in New York, I have a thriving business that keeps getting bigger and better, yet I find it is failing to pull me. I don’t feel the tug of war I thought I’d feel after a few days here. So much has changed.”
“Yeah?” He tightened his arms. “What’s changed?”
His big grin said he knew but wanted to hear it anyway. “You, ya big oaf. I want to be where you are. No matter what becomes of us, I want to be where you are.” A herd of Pronghorn antelope grazed in the pasture below us. A prong buck stood in front of a group of eight females and stared us down while the ladies fed undisturbed. “So much has happened in just a few days. I’ve gained a brother, the only mother I’ve ever known has chosen to forgive me for a variety of sins I didn’t realize I’d committed, and then there’s you.” Those denim blues soothed me. I narrowed my eyes at him. “There is you, isn’t there?”
“I’d like that, very much.”
“Then bed me, dammit.” I pouted and stomped my boot into the hard ground. “You know you want to.”
“I do. You have no idea how much, but we talked about this.” He kissed me. “I won’t be part-time for you.”
“I know. Any other man would take whatever he could get, but not you.”
“Not me. I’m not any other man.”
“I know. I’ve been given a taste.”
He reddened and stared at something over my head before speaking again. “Figure out what you want to do. Don’t move here for me; don’t decide anything because of me, or Maria or Carlos. Feeling stuck because you made the move for others is not something you want, and the very thing I don’t want. Get me?”
“I want you. I want my way on this.”
“Well, you heard me, young lady. I stand firm.” I gave him the raspberries as we stood arm in arm looking out at the gorgeous view.
“I feel like I owe Dad some time here.” I blinked back tears. “And I guess my only regret at this moment is that I don’t have the luxury of learning anything more from him.” Jed pressed my head against his chest and brushed his lips against my hair. “Damn pride, Jed.”
“I know, darlin’.” He pressed his mouth against my head and left it there for a bit. “I like the words I’m hearing, though. I like that you’re thinking along the same lines I am. I don’t want to do this without you, either, sweetheart.”
“I need to go back, settle things. May take a while.”
“You do what you have to do, and things’ll be here and moving along once you return.”
“You’re not worried I’ll change my mind once I’m back in New York?”
“No point worrying about things I can’t control, Chan.”
“So you won’t come chasing after me?”
“No.” Just that. No.
“Well, that’s disheartening.”
“You wanna be here, I shouldn’t have to chase you. You don’t want to be here, I’ll be disappointed, but I’d rather not have you here. I need you happy and on board, babe. Can’t do this otherwise.” He turned me to face him. “This isn’t a game, and it’s not a romance novel. I’ll sweep you off your feet day and night as long as you want that from me, here in Cameron. This…” He swept his arm out to the land he now owned. “…is my life. I don’t want to be anywhere else, and I don’t want to be doing this with anyone but you. But you gotta want it, too, babe…as bad as I want it. Now…” He cupped his big hand over my cheek and raised my face to meet his eyes. “Over the next few days I got fences to mend.”
“Is that some kind of metaphor?”
“No, darlin’. I—got—fences—to—mend.”
I looked out to expanse and saw no fences. I knew they were out there, otherwise we’d have designer cows on the highway.
Over the next few days, that’s what we did. Big equipment that drilled holes in the ground did much of the hard work. But the poles that got placed in those holes, straight as arrows, and the barbed wire that got strung between them straight and taut, and then attached to the wood by metal brackets was done by humans, and I was one of them. I learned my lesson the last time I mended fences so I made sure my gloves were new and sturdy. I got clipped many more times during the learning process, and I came in at the end of each day, hands that for years hadn’t handled anything rougher than a drafting pencil now raw and bleeding. Each night I soaked them in warm soapy water and applied antibiotic cream and a few Band-Aids, and did my best to hide it all from Jed. The days flew by, and I found myself sore in places I didn’t know existed.
Carlos Asher
Mist sat low across fallow fields early one morning as I knelt in the center of the big corral, head bowed, a slice of Golden Delicious between my raised fingers. The Azteca pounded the ground in front of me, wanting to take what I had to offer, yet not. I knew the feeling. He broke into a run and circled me twice, then stopped and stared, as if to say, What? Not scary enough for you? He harrumphed and threw his front legs in the air, a show of blow-hard machismo if I ever saw it. He circled a few times. Give in or hold out? I’d been there before. I knew the cost of trust, and of deciding to skip it altogether. Not a soul around, nothing to distract either of us.
And then it happened. The horse circled twice and stopped behind me. He lowered his head and, with the gentleness of a lamb, he took the slice of apple from my hand. After gobbling it down, he scooted back to his side of the corral, but he did not turn his back on me. I pulled another slice from my pocket and raised my hand. It took him less time to take this one, and when he trotted back to his side of the corral again, I raised my head and made eye contact with the animal for the first time. I spoke low to him, my words and tone full of praise for a job well done. He would not regret trusting me, I told him. He was a gift, I said, for a special
boy. He was strong, I told him, and he would keep this boy safe. I had faith in him.
The Azteca jerked his head and scuffed the ground with his front leg, but it was all show at this point. I’d done it. I’d won him over.
Without breaking eye contact, I stood and backed away, turning only to climb the rail of the corral and jump down on the other side. Collin was waiting.
“You’ve done amazing work with him, Dutch. You got farther with him in a few days than I have in a month.”
“I have a connection with him I can’t explain, Collin.” I looked back at a fierce animal who wasn’t so tough after all.
“I know. I have experienced that myself.”
“Thanks for giving him over to me with such grace, Col. I handled that poorly.”
He waved a hand in the air. “You were fine.”
“What do you think about this fellow for Carlos?”
Collin looked into the corral. “I don’t know. Maria is not comfortable with him on a horse, and this fella’s a toughie. Your dad snuck that boy out every chance he got on ol’ Doolittle, and the kid does okay.” Collin sighed. “You know about him, right? His issues?”
“I do.”
“Well, keep all that in mind as you move forward, kid. And know that you’ll have a fight on your hands with his mama, that’s for sure.”
“I’ve been watching Carlos. He’s sure of himself one minute, then he looks around for Maria the next. I don’t know,” I said, climbing up to the top railing.
“Your papa was bringing the boy right round.” Collin climbed up and joined me.
“Something happens to him around animals—whether it’s one of the old bulls in the pasture, or one of the horses.” I’d been getting to know my brother in fits and starts. During visits to his bedroom to look at his collection of mud crystals from the banks of the Madison, while currying horses, or strolling to the hill where our father was buried, not much was spoken verbally, but much was learned—on both sides.
“I seen it, too,” Collin said. “I’ve heard of this—kids with problems somehow getting better when they’re up on a horse, or what-have-you. Your pa saw it, too. Right proud he was of that boy.”
“You think you can get that big fella used to a saddle and bridle?”
“Sure, but I might not have the luck you did.”
“Do your best.” I looked back into the corral as I jumped down off the top. “I have plans for him.”
“Share ‘em with Maria, honey. That’s my advice.”
I sat on the porch with my thoughts as Jed drove up with Carlos in the front seat. School was out and the kid was bogged down with a heavy backpack he seemed to handle with ease.
“Hi, you two,” I said. I came off the porch and greeted them as they stepped from the truck.
“Hi.” Jed’s hand came to rest at the small of my back. I felt his touch in subtle ways that no one else seemed to notice and I longed for—a hand on my knee, a finger caressing my cheek, a gentle pat on the hip as we passed each other in the kitchen. I ate it up.
“You’ve had a busy day,” I said. “I haven’t seen you for hours.”
“Yeah. Some equipment problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“They didn’t get delivered.”
“That’s a big problem.”
“Yeah, it is, honey.” He flung his arm over my shoulder.
“I was just about to go into the barn and curry the horses, Charlie. Wanna come?”
Carlos looked at Jed, unsure. Our time around the horses had been a private affair, not that I’d planned it that way. Now that an adult in the family knew of our fairly well-kept secret, guilt shrouded the boy’s face. Jed shrugged.
“How much homework do you have?” I asked.
“Not much.”
“C’mon, then. You can help me do this right.”
“See ya, Jed,” he called behind him.
“See ya,” Jed said, catching my eye. He winked, his smile radiant. “You have a good day?”
“I did. I brought that Azteca to heel.”
“That’s my girl.” He lifted my hand and brushed his lips over the back. My toes curled. Charlie had moved on ahead and was standing next to the corral, staring at the Azteca.
“Do you like him?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Do you ride?”
He focused on the horse. “Mom doesn’t like it.”
“Would you like to go for a ride with me?” I asked.
Carlos cut his eyes to me for the first time. He shrugged. It wasn’t indifference; it was insecurity.
“C’mon,” I said, jerking my head toward the stables. I walked and hoped he’d follow. He did.
Mugsy’s pink muzzle was already over the gate of his stall when we walked in. I gave his nose a rub. “You know Mugsy,” I said. “He’s very gentle. Why don’t you take him?”
He nodded and placed his hand on Mugsy’s muzzle. “Soft.”
“Um hum.” I scratched Mugs behind the ear. “We’ll ride now and curry them after, okay?”
“Yeah.” He ran his hand up over Mugsy’s blond forelock and the horse jerked his head. As if Carlos sensed what the animal wanted, he moved his hand back down to his muzzle and stroked.
“Charlie, do you know who I am?”
“Of course. You’re Chandler.”
“Yes. But do you know who I am?”
“Sister.”
“Do you know what that means?”
He tensed and cupped his hand, rubbing on the horse with the enthusiasm of a factory seamstress. “Zander has a sister. Doesn’t like her.”
I took Carlos’s hand and straightened his fingers, rubbed the tension from his palm and set his hand against the horse’s nose again. Carlos had my father’s hands—wide and meaty, despite his lanky frame.
“Zander your friend?”
“No.”
I opened the gate and Mugsy moved back. Startled, Carlos backed up against the opposite wall. “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m just going to take him out.” I went about my business as if it was the most natural thing in the world. After fifteen years away, I still found that to be true.
I got Mugsy saddled and bridled, and then I did the same to Paul, Jed’s horse. A little big for me, I was still better equipped to handle Paul than Carlos was.
“This Zander kid…not your friend?”
“Mean.” He was still plastered against the far wall.
I led both horses down the middle of the stable. “He’s mean to you?”
“Uh huh. Calls me ‘tard. He thinks…”
I turned. “What?”
“Thinks I don’t know what it means, but I do,” he said.
I kept walking. “Then, I’ll tell you right now, I don’t want to meet this kid.”
“Why?” He was right behind me.
“I’d have to kick his ass.”
Carlos laughed. “You said ass.”
“That I did, and I meant it.”
“You’d really kick…kick Zander’s…why?”
I shrugged as I set the reins on Mugs over the saddle horn. “It’s what sisters do.” I waved my arm at Mugsy. “Hop on.”
Carlos turned and looked toward the house, his brows pointed toward one another.
“She’s not looking. Besides, I said it’s okay, and even if it’s not,” I whispered conspiratorially, “I like having a brother I can get in trouble with.”
Carlos smiled. Like a kid who’d been doing it forever, he slid his booted foot into the stirrup and pulled himself into the saddle. Mugsy, bless him, stood still until Carlos got settled. This kid wasn’t afraid of horses. His mother was.
“You have done this before,” I said.
“Dad taught me.”
“But your mom didn’t like it.”
He just shook his head.
Yeah, Dad.
As soon as he got on the horse, Carlos seemed transformed. His eyes cleared and so did his speech. He sat straight and tall in the s
addle. I followed, stepping up and swinging over onto Paul. He was Jed’s horse and not used to me, so he sidestepped just enough to make me think.
“Easy, Paulie,” I said. I looked up at my smiling brother. “Don’t you dare laugh.”
He did. “That’s Jed’s horse. He doesn’t like anyone to ride his horse.”
“Then it looks like trouble for me just doubled. Let’s go.”
“I like when you callin’ me Charlie. Dad did.” We rode side by side along the Madison, the larkspur, black sage and twin arnica in bloom and lining the banks. He handled Mugsy well, not letting him drop to eat the vegetation until we’d stopped for a while.
“Dad called you Charlie? I didn’t know that.”
“Uh huh. I seen your picture in Dad’s office. Is he your dad, too?”
“Yes, Charlie. That’s what makes me your sister.”
“Sisters and brothers grow up together.”
“In some families, that’s true. But I left home when I was about your age.”
“Why?”
“I went to a school in Atlanta…do you know where that is?”
“Sure. Georgia. It burned down in the Civil War.”
“That’s right, very good.”
“So, why?”
“Dad thought that it would…would be good for me to do that.”
“Why?”
Oh, boy. “Well, parents sometimes get the idea that you have to go away from what’s comfortable to really grow.”
“I don’t think that’s true. I wouldn’t want to do that. Do you think it’s true, Chandler?”
“No, honey, I don’t. But Daddy did, so that’s what happened.”
“Is my mom your mom, too?”
“No, honey.”
“Who’s your mom?”
“My mom’s name was Grace, Grace Tisdale. She died when I was little.”
“Hey, we have a Lake Grace.”
“Yes.” No more needed to be said. Charlie only knew Dad and his mom.
“Were you sad she died?”
“I was too young to remember her.”
“Was she beautiful?”
