Nathan's Big Sky

by M. L. Buchman

  But there was something, even if he wasn’t sure what, that he and Julie had to talk about.

  He looked around and he wasn’t so sure that he could find her even if he wanted to. He and Mark were out on the open prairie. The mountains were ahead of them, but behind him there was no track through the winter-dead grass. Because he’d been preoccupied with Red’s games, he hadn’t been paying attention. This wasn’t New York where, if he got totally turned around, he just had to walk to the next street corner and read the signs.

  He’d never been so far from everything. Out here there were no fences, no ranch house or cabins. There was just brownish-green grass with the first hint of purple flowers, soaring mountains, and the biggest sky in the world. Except it wasn’t far away, it was somehow strangely all…closer. As if he could reach out and touch every piece of the most expansive place he’d ever been.

  He wanted to stop and appreciate it, but Mark had kept them moving at a trot for a while now.

  “What’s the rush?”

  “Just passing on the favor, buddy.”

  “What favor?”

  “My parents took over this spread when I was a ‘cow’—means it was my third year at West Point. Their first ranch hand was a real old-timer. Crotchety old guy, must have been eighty if he was a day, but that man could really ride. I came out for my first visit to see the place, so impressed with my hot school and that I’d be a ‘firstie’ soon—a senior at the best military academy there is. I knew I was hot wheels and could do anything.”

  “Is that where you met Emily?”

  “No. I missed her somehow. She was a freshman plebe my senior year. The women did what I couldn’t—was made First Captain her senior year, top of the school. Only woman so far to pull that off.”

  Nathan sighed with relief when Mark eased them back to a walk and his rear end could start recovering. Though now there was a side-to-side roll that started sandpapering his inner thighs.

  “That old devil put me up on the orneriest horse on the place and made me ride him. Looking back, he was probably no worse than Red there, but I’d never so much as seen a horse. I can tell you that I fell off a bunch more than the one time you did.”

  “How many times did Emily fall off?”

  “Never,” Mark sounded totally disgusted as they continued along the stream up toward the mountains. From that one helicopter flight, Nathan had enough of a feel for the size of the ranch that he doubted they’d reach the hills today. “What’s your secret?”

  “Julie said it was about confidence. She told how horses aren’t thinking critters, they’re feeling critters. So I’m trying to be confident. I also don’t want her laughing at me if she sees me riding.”

  “Impressing a woman is a good tactic. Did that by rescuing Emily from a bunch of Thai hill-tribe opium runners.”

  “I’ll make that my Plan B.”

  Mark turned them back toward the ranch, then rode up close beside him. “Ease up on the reins a bit. Make sure you stay solidly in your stirrups. Even looser on those reins.”

  It felt wrong. Red would be breaking back into a trot if Nathan didn’t rein him in soon. He wasn’t ready for more of that yet.

  “Lean forward a bit. Perfect,” Mark drifted back a couple feet.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mark whip over the end of his reins, smacking them hard against Red’s rump.

  “Go on!” Mark shouted as Red leapt straight into a gallop.

  Nathan took one glance at the greening grass racing by without the relative safety of a helicopter wrapped around him and knew he didn’t stand a chance if he fell off.

  Confidence. Like seasoning a dish with panache. It wasn’t about the carefully measured spoon, it was about having confidence.

  Red stretched out his stride and the world moved even faster. The horse’s ears—what Julie had called the windows to a horse’s emotions—slowly swung from back hard the moment Mark smacked him, to forward as he lowered his head and they sped over the prairie. Up one rise and down the back side. Sweeping by a family of small deer too startled to run and a wild rabbit that shot away fast enough to avoid being trampled.

  He eased up in the saddle a little more, gave his hat brim a tug to make sure it stayed in place, and it felt like he was flying.

  It wasn’t as good as making love to Julie Larson, but it was right up there.

  Julie was up on a ladder with her head sticking out of the central hole of the yurt when she heard the thunder. She checked the sky, stark blue except for a couple of cumulus bumpers too small to hold any water.

  Steady thunder. Not big enough to be a stampede, but plenty to be—

  Two cowboys shot up over the back of the rise. With a swerve and a Whoop! they swung to either side of the yurt. One had been wearing a black cowboy hat, the other…an Indiana Jones one.

  “Nathan!”

  At her shout, he turned to look up at her and that was his undoing.

  Red carved a hard turn to the right to match Nathan’s weight shift. Except Nathan didn’t lean into the turn. Instead, he continued in a straight line as the horse ran out from under him. He was pitched down the slope, which was all that saved him. Instead of going splat onto flat ground, he rolled and tumbled and spun until he came to a stop well down the slope.

  She slid down the ladder, raced outside, vaulted over Doug working on the porch, and was at Nathan’s side while he was still just blinking in surprise.

  “What happened?”

  “You fell off.”

  “I know that. I thought I was doing so well. How did I mess up?” He sat up slowly, testing himself as he did so. She sat close by him, ready in case something was really wrong. But other than a few winces and groans, he appeared unscathed.

  “You okay, buddy?” Henderson trotted up close beside them; he had Red’s reins in one hand.

  “Idiot!” Julie tried not to yell, but watching Nathan fly through the air and tumble like a broken rag doll really threw her. She’d seen more than one rodeo rider broken or crippled by less.

  “Which one of us?” they asked in unison.

  “Both! You,” she aimed a finger at Mark, “for teaching a beginner to gallop.”

  “He didn’t teach me. He just whacked Red with his reins. Why me? All I did was fall off.”

  “You,” she couldn’t help herself and hugged him because she was so glad he was okay. “For being stupid enough to go riding with Mark on your first time out.”

  “It’s a mistake I won’t be making again,” Nathan glared up at Mark, who just grinned.

  “Next time, it’s with me or no one.”

  Nathan looked at her. That smile of his slid to life, then he leaned in and kissed her on the nose. “That’s a deal.”

  Julie had no idea what in the world to do with him. She wanted to smack him, hug him, and take him right here and now. Most of all she wanted to keep him as close as she could for as long as she could.

  Chapter 12

  The next day the yurt topping-off party was a big occasion. He and Emily chased Ama out of the kitchen and spent all of that same afternoon creating a feast.

  “You really cooked at the White House?” Nathan had never actually met one of the White House chefs and it took him over an hour to stop feeling clumsy beside her.

  “For just a few weeks. Private chef to the First Lady,” Emily didn’t make it sound like a very nice experience, but he had to ask.

  “What’s she like? The First Lady?”

  “I’ve known three of them. The last one and the new one are both wonderful. I cooked for the one before that.” Her tone put a clear, end-of-discussion period at the end of it. She’d cooked for the one who’d died at the White House—that must be a bad memory indeed. He remembered it only vaguely; he’d been surviving his Parisian servitude at the time.

  What he discovered as they cooked together was that she was an unconventional chef, clearly with no formal training—with an exceptional palate. That was the one thing that was harde
st to teach, but Emily didn’t need any instruction there. Her looser style forced him to adapt. It was fun, especially working on the flavor profiles together.

  As executive chef at Vite, he rarely cooked with anyone. They cooked for him. Tasting and seasoning with Emily was a reminder of what a joy it was to work with a truly talented chef who was more of a partner than an underling. He hadn’t had that since he and Estevan had worked together at the ill-fated Le Carte Blanche just off Wall Street.

  Because the day was plenty warm for eating outside, Chelsea improvised a horse cart for them and they hooked up Red—one of the few horses also trained to a full harness. Reconciled to his bumps and bruises, he let Red know that there were no hard feelings with a carrot and an apple.

  “Gonna spoil that horse,” Chelsea chided him.

  “That’s the plan,” Nathan agreed.

  By keeping a weather eye out the window, he could gauge when the last yurt would be done. They made a pretty little cluster atop the hill. The mountains, their ice-capped peaks glowing in the afternoon sun, shone in a brilliant backdrop. The tourists were going to love it from their very first sighting. They might end up even more popular than the cabins.

  Timing it right, they delivered the feast up to the yurts just as Julie slid the last acrylic skylight into place and secured it in position.

  All the ranch hands came up, even Stan with his favorite dog Bertram.

  Nathan helped Chelsea drop the sideboard on the wagon and turned it into a serving station. They uncovered platters of pasta with meatballs, pesto chicken skewers, and shish-kebab veggies still hot off the kitchen grill. Sometimes comfort food was called for, but he and Emily had elevated it a couple notches while they were about it.

  Nathan had even tracked down a case of Moose Drool in the pantry and loaded it into a cooler of ice.

  He’d also seen to one other detail for later. Thankfully, Patrick had been out on another supply run this morning and had been able to bring back the one special ingredient he’d been lacking—which Patrick had delivered with only a brotherly ration of grief. Nathan couldn’t resist peeking in his pocket to make sure it was still there.

  The party quickly settled down to a lot of weary people sitting on the edge of porches that still lacked railings or chairs but had a view to die for.

  He sat next to Julie, trying to hide the winces from yesterday’s fall that aspirin had been unable to relieve.

  “You load up a fine chuck wagon, Nathan,” Julie spoke as she devoured her meal like the hungry worker she was.

  “Glad you like it. Emily might have helped some.”

  “Best meatballs I’ve ever had.”

  Nathan tried not to cheer, those were completely his—except for a bit of the spicing in the red sauce, but he wasn’t going to mention that.

  Mac thumped a hammer on the porch a few times to call everyone’s attention. Even though there were only ten or fifteen of them, it took them a while to settle down. The sun was bright and warm, the new spring grass was brushed with the purple he’d only noticed this morning. Ama had said that within a week the prairie would be purple, gold, and red with wildflowers. That’s a sight he wouldn’t mind seeing.

  Mac thumped his hammer one last time, then tossed it down on the decking.

  “First, thanks go to Nathan and Emily for this fine feed.”

  “And Red,” Chelsea called out, slipping the horse a palmful of carrot sticks.

  “And Red,” Mac agreed happily.

  “I hooked up the wagon.”

  “Shutting up now, Chelsea.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Nathan liked how easy they were with each other.

  “Next, I want to thank you all for busting your guts to get this ranch ready for the spring.”

  “You mean you busting our guts,” Tweedledee shouted out.

  “Mine’s still broken,” Tweedledum agreed.

  “Hush or I’ll bust ’em again.”

  “Too late,” Dee. “Still busted,” Dum.

  “But the one person I want to thank more than any of you lot is the lady who really made it happen, Julie Larson,” and Mac started the applause that swept through the crowd.

  “Long way to go yet,” she muttered under the applause. Her face was brightly flushed.

  “But where would they be without you?” Nathan couldn’t believe that she didn’t see how little would have happened without her skills and drive. “Remember that, Julie.”

  She nodded uncertainly.

  “Don’t you see the value you’re bringing here?”

  A shrug.

  “Woman! I bet Mac wishes he could find five more just like you, or even one more. Except there isn’t anybody like you.”

  The applause ran long but finally tapered off some time after she’d gone from flushed to beet red. She didn’t speak again until other conversations resumed and some of the hands went back to the cart for thirds.

  “Stop selling it, Nathan. I can get that out of the back of a horse anytime I want.” Then she grimaced, “Sorry. I just have a mental to-do list in my head that could kill a Triple Crown Winner.”

  “A Triple Crown…”

  “Kentucky Derby, Preakness, and Belmont Stakes,” Julie explained with her oh-city-boy sigh. “If you get a horse in a decade who can win all three, you’ve got something really special.”

  “Come by Aspen around sunset and I’ll show you who I think is so special.”

  “You looking to get laid?”

  He reached into his shirt pocket and handed her a single, perfect, red rose petal.

  Julie arrived at the Aspen cabin just as the sun was shifting behind the Front Range crags. Getting past the steps was hard. She wanted to protect her heart, but—she had to admit as she ascended the steps to the front porch—she wanted Nathan more.

  Inside, there was a cheery fire. Though the evening was warm enough that it wasn’t really needed, it looked mighty cozy. No Nathan in the kitchen. No food on the table, which was just as well. She’d barely worked off the fullness from the amazing spread Nathan and Emily had delivered.

  Then she spotted a yellow flower petal in the middle of the floor—a daffodil—and another. Not red roses, but sunny, spring daffodils. She never told anyone that they were her favorite, but somehow Nathan knew…or just got lucky. The trail led to the bathroom where a towel and a fresh bar of soap had been laid out on the counter. The shower ran hot when she tried it. She managed a laugh past the tightness in her chest, wondering who had helped Nathan turn on the water heater.

  It felt so good to be clean that she stayed under the spray far longer than she normally would have. She let the water run hot until she knew she was avoiding whatever came next. With a slap, she stopped the water and dried off. A terrycloth robe hung on the back of the bathroom door. It felt sinful to pull it on over bare skin; she’d never worn a bathrobe at home.

  She ventured out of the bathroom, still holding her one red rose petal, and spotted a second trail of yellow daffodil petals leading up the stairs and into the main bedroom. Whatever thin temptation lay along the first petal trail, leading to escape, wasn’t enough to pull her aside.

  Upstairs, unable to believe what she was seeing, Julie stopped at the threshold. Nathan sat in a comfortably worn armchair beside the bed, reading a book. Looking as if that was simply where he belonged, at home, waiting for her. The room was lit with candles and a single oil lantern dialed barely bright enough to read by. The light curtains had been drawn over the last hints of the sunset. The pictures of the ranch and Montana history blended into the shadows. The big bed had been made up with spring green flannel sheets and one of Ama’s showpiece Cheyenne blankets.

  The daffodils led to a vaseful of red roses on a small table at his side. No one had ever given her flowers, never mind roses.

  Nathan’s smile was brighter than the lantern. He closed his book, reached out, and missed dropping it on the table by more than a foot. When it hit the floor, they both jumped, then shared a
laugh in surprise.

  “I’ve imagined you here so many times since that dinner,” his voice was rough as he clambered to his feet.

  “So have I,” but she couldn’t get herself moving again. Across this threshold would be an incredible night. And then what? The lost chef—spooked by a cow and never ridden a horse—him she knew. The man who galloped across the prairie, laughed with the hands over a beer, and now waited for her with a vaseful of flowers and a smile full of promises—him she didn’t know at all. Who would he be in the morning? Worse, where would he be?

  He rose and moved until he stood just over the bedroom’s threshold from her.

  “What is it, cowgirl?” Nathan tucked her hair behind her ear.

  Not trusting herself to speak, she let the warmth of his touch pull her into the room, into his arms.

  She could feel Nathan’s strength and his confidence as he pulled her against his chest. It was as if their awkwardness with each other since the trip to Great Falls had all been in her imagination. He held her more tightly than ever before, practically crushing her against him.

  His kiss made it impossible to remember the world outside the bedroom door. In here there was only him. And he made it clear that, as far as he was concerned, there was only her.

  Julie took a brief side trip to bury her face in the roses. They really did smell utterly incredible, just like in the novels and movies. She set her one petal close beside the vase.

  Nathan led her to the bed and it was a hundred times more momentous than leaving with him for an out-of-town tryst. She didn’t help him undress, but she couldn’t look aside as he did. He’d become stronger, more solid in the weeks that he’d been here. More real. The last of his clothes hit the chair, except for one sock that landed on his forgotten book on the floor.

  Never had she been so aware of a naked man. His unthinking power, his confident stance, his incredible maleness. How had she ever pictured him as belonging in a clown car? His presence filled the room and chased away shadows.