The Bride Wore Red Boots

by Lizbeth Selvig

  “I haven’t been out to that pasture in ages,” Mia said. “I figured it would have to be built from scratch.”

  “You can take a look at it. I think it could work. The other thing I talked to Leif about was the idea of having these men do some work for us. We’ve been talking about how soon we could reasonably hire more hands. Come spring, when it’s time to take the cattle back out for the summer, we’ll need a couple of men for sure. Right now it sure would be nice to have at least one extra body to take care of some fencing, to do some building maintenance, and a few other things, but we’d decided we have to slog through ourselves. We just can’t afford to hire anyone right now—not in the winter. But—if someone wanted to work in exchange for keeping the horses, we could talk about a very small—really, really small—additional wage. For a couple of people.”

  Mia didn’t know if having the men work without pay was even feasible. She had no idea what kind of financial shape they were in. Obviously they’d lasted four months on something—but, all she could do was ask.

  “This is so generous, Cole. I have to ask a whole lot of questions on your behalf, of course. But it’s a start. The two mitigating factors are that I’m not going to be around to see this project through. At least not permanently. The second is, the men themselves might think this is an idea akin to consorting with folks who try to contact aliens with tin foil hats and short-wave radios. If they don’t want to do it—we’re all off the hook.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing either way. I kind of got the impression Harper here is itching to see some mustangs around here again.” He kissed her again, this time on the top of the head. “But I had another idea. What if I ride along with you and Gabe for the first half hour or so on Saturday?”

  “You know about that?” Mia hadn’t told anyone that Gabriel had invited himself on a date. No. A tour.

  “Nothing is a secret in a small town.”

  “This is not a small town.”

  “It’s a big ranch. You grew up here. You know it’s its own small town.”

  “Big mouth Bjorn.” She smiled. “I asked him who the gentlest horse was. Someone for a relatively new rider. He extrapolated.”

  “And I baited you, and you confirmed.” Cole grinned. “It’s great that Gabe is coming. He’s a good man. Glad you’re finally seeing that.”

  “Everybody stop picking on me!” She groused to hide the bubbling excitement in the pit of her stomach. “He’s dedicated. I admit it fully.”

  “And he’s really, really cute,” Harper said, garnering a scowl from Cole.

  “Is he?” Mia raised her brows. “I know he can be as annoying as I am.”

  “You are a lot alike.” Harper grinned.

  Mia furrowed her brow. “Hey. I think you were supposed to disagree with me there. Thanks a lot.”

  Harper laughed. “Sis, we’re all annoying. Heaven only knows why this one is still around.” She flipped a thumb at Cole.

  “You’re all also addicting, that’s why,” Cole said. “Now. I have to ride out and check two of the trapper cabins Saturday. What’s the verdict on horning in on your date?”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, it’s not a date! Come along. Harper, too.”

  “I wish I could.” She sighed. “I have a group coming to paint at the Double Diamond. Gotta go get them settled and do an orientation.”

  Harper had recently started a new enterprise that was already bearing fruit—a retreat for artists and writers based at Cole’s old homestead, where they could hide away or paint in solitude. And she’d set up a schedule of community classes for the coming year to be taught by visiting artists and talented locals. She’d had her first paying guests a month ago and was booked through New Year’s. What had seemed a long-shot, esoteric idea had proven to be irresistibly popular.

  “That’s wonderful,” Mia said, meaning it. “You’ve done a fantastic job already.”

  “Amazingly, it sells itself,” she said. “To more kinds of people than I ever thought would care. Some folks will pay stupid amounts for a nature experience. Anyhow, beside the point. Go, have fun on Saturday. See what Gabe thinks of this mustang thing. I meant it that I think it’s a great idea, too.”

  The praise warmed Mia. It truly felt like she’d been waiting for this kind of closeness with her sisters for a lifetime. For one instant an unfamiliar sense of intimacy gripped her.

  “Thank you. And, fine. I am looking forward to Saturday.”

  She braced for teasing, or a knowing wink between Cole and Harper, but her sister only nodded.

  “I know.”

  “YOU’RE NOT DOING too badly for a newb, Newb.” Mia waited at the top of a long rocky path and called down the hill where Gabriel allowed his gelding, Mitch, to pick his way up the trail. The pair reached her, Gabriel puffing a little, as if he’d physically helped the horse up the steep grade.

  “Thanks, but I’m permanently bowlegged already,” he said.

  “It’s been a few weeks since I’ve ridden, too,” she said. “I’ll be sore as well.”

  “Glad to be in good company at least.”

  “This is the picnic spot.” Mia turned her mare, Penny, in a circle and glanced around the hilltop clearing. “Sounds like you’re ready to dismount and stretch anyhow. Good timing.”

  “You really do have some beautiful country. I had no idea there was so much diversity.”

  “Biodiversity. Raquel loves to wax philosophical on the virtues of all the biomes and ecosystems the ranch contains. She says it’s aptly named because we have everything here you could want in Paradise except desert. And I can only show you such a small sliver. It takes weeks to ride the entire property.”

  “Have you ever done it?”

  “Once. Rode the perimeter with my dad and a crew when I was thirteen or fourteen.” We all had to do it with him at least once. I think maybe Joely’s done it a few times. It’s pretty eye-opening. This is quite a kingdom my great-grandfather Eli started.”

  She dismounted and led her mount, Chevy, to a sturdy tree. Gabriel copied her example and landed ungracefully but upright on the ground after his dismount. He exaggerated a rolling, bowlegged walk and led Mitch to stand beside Chevy. Mia showed him how to tie the horses with quick-release slip knots.

  “All there is to it,” she said, when he’d mastered the knot. “They’ll munch a few leaves and be fine. Let’s unpack the saddlebags.”

  “I’m with you, Doc.”

  Lunch looked as good as a celebration feast for royalty, simple though it was. Mia didn’t remember being so hungry in years. They’d been riding three hours, but the clean, bracing air and the crispness, like a perfect fall apple, in the breeze, had filled her with an eagerness for exploration and a deep satisfaction with what she was rediscovering. Cole had shown off the first of a half dozen small cabins on the property, used in the past for hunting overnights or cattle round-ups, to an impressed Gabriel, then headed off on his own to check another for vandalism and needed repairs.

  Sharing the ranch’s diverse landscape had added a dash of excitement and pride to the outing she hadn’t expected. It had been a long time since Paradise had brought her this much contentment. The morning had left her stomach growling. For the picnic she’d dug out some chicken cranberry pasta salad Raquel had made, found a new loaf of an artisan bread crusted with rosemary, and a round of smoked Gouda cheese. In one of her saddle bags was a thermos of homemade chicken soup. Best of all, she’d spent time the night before with her mother, baking the thick, gooey brownies she remembered from her childhood.

  She untied a roll of woolen blankets from behind the cantle of her saddle and spread one over the flattest area of ground she could find. Gabe pulled the food containers from his bags and met her at the blanket table.

  “You definitely know how to stuff a saddle bag.”

  “Years of misspent youth wandering the landscape with leftovers from dinner the night before.”

  “I’d have been happy with PB and
J.”

  “Nothing so pedestrian.” She laughed. “It was soup and hot cocoa for us. Lemonade in the summer.”

  “Cocoa would have been good.” Gabriel rubbed his hands together.

  Mia pulled a second thermos out of her bag. “A step ahead of you.”

  “I am in heaven. No.” He corrected himself. “Paradise.”

  She laughed and beckoned him to the blanket, handing him a small, stacked set of camping utensils as he sat. It didn’t take long to open the various containers, pour steaming cocoa and soup into their metal bowls, and breathe in the first aromatic scents of the nontraditional lunch.

  “Wow,” Gabriel said. “Who’d have thought you could get to a gourmet restaurant on the back of a horse, ten miles from civilization. This is fantastic, Amelia. Thanks.”

  “It’s nothing fancy really, but you’re welcome. I haven’t had a chance to show off my childhood home for a long time. It’s been fun.”

  “It has. I admit I have a hard time imagining fifty thousand acres.” Gabe dunked a piece of bread into the chicken broth. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but is so much land necessary for one family to own these days?”

  “Of course not. Not the way we’re running it. We don’t have that much livestock. The acreage certainly isn’t all fenced. And I admit full out that right after my father died last August, I was the first to counsel that we sell this place. Part of me still wonders the same thing you just asked.”

  “But it doesn’t sound like Harper and Cole would consider selling.”

  “No. They never wanted to from the start. And do you know what? Today, the thought of selling it makes me so sad. I’m grateful Paradise Ranch was here for me to come back to.”

  “You seem . . . relaxed?”

  “Maybe. Oblivious may be more accurate. I suddenly seem to be able to get lost in my thoughts. I try to be upset about the job, and I am, really, if I can think about it. But I haven’t had to think about it here.”

  “Let’s see.” Gabriel held up a hand and ticked off on his fingers. “Surgery consulting, clandestine cow kick injuries, wild horses, rescue missions, playing tour guide.”

  “Rescue missions?”

  “Crazy guys calling you for help.”

  “Oh, that.” She smiled. “Yeah, that was a huge time suck.”

  She pulled out the container of brownies and waved it under his nose. “Here’s the penalty.”

  “Oh, jeez, how am I supposed to get back on a horse if I eat any more?”

  “He won’t notice.”

  “Oh, but I will.” Gabriel took a thick brownie square and bit a solid third of it off without fanfare. “Man.” He mumbled through the mouthful.

  “So what did you really think about Cole’s ideas for the mustangs?” Her question came out equally garbled through her own mouthful of brownie.

  “I’ve been spending a lot of time the last hour and a half trying to form my proposal to the guys so they can’t refuse.”

  “It’s not for everyone,” Mia admitted. “It’s also not without risks. And they won’t make much money.”

  “Half of them are living on disability for the moment. They’ll continue to get their paychecks, but if they get paid anything, it will fulfill their requirement to find meaningful employment. Ranch work? Doesn’t get much more meaningful, and I mean in the hard labor sense of the word.”

  “I hope a couple of them will want to try it. I won’t even be here to watch them progress. But I could plan a trip or two back . . . ”

  “Why, Dr. Crockett. It almost sounds like you care.”

  “I didn’t think I did, but the whole idea is very addicting.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m changing my mind.”

  “What’s the deal with the tough act you put on sometimes?” He licked the last of the chocolate off his fingers and leaned back, bracing on his elbows, crossing his long, long legs at the ankles. “Not that I’ve seen much of it this trip.”

  “It went the way of your arrogant act. You’ve controlled that pretty well yourself.”

  “Arrogant?”

  “You’ll tell me anything I want to know this trip. I couldn’t get Joely’s room number out of you when we first met.”

  He studied her as if assessing how blunt he could be. With a wry little lift of his lip he closed his eyes and lay all the way back onto the blanket, hands behind his head. “Honestly? You were just so much fun to get a rise out of. You’d turn all hot under the collar, like you couldn’t figure out how anyone could dare counter you—the big-city doc coming to Hicksville with the answers.”

  The teasing tone of his voice was clear, but the words stung. Funny. They wouldn’t have bothered her at all a week ago, she thought. Now it hurt that he would ever think of her as so conceited. She hadn’t been that awful—she’d only wanted to put order to the chaos and bring a little rationality to the haywire emotions after her mother and sister’s awful accident.

  “Hey.” She turned to find him sitting upright beside her again. “Amelia, I know better now. I know you. I’m not judging you—then or now.”

  Pricks of miniscule teardrops stung her eyes, the result of extreme embarrassment—and profound relief. She had no idea what to make of the reaction. It was neither logical nor something she ever remembered experiencing.

  “I know.”

  To her horror, the roughness of her emotions shone through her voice, and Gabriel peered at her, his face a study in surprise. “Are you crying? Amelia, I’m sorry—I was just giving you grief, I wasn’t—”

  “I’m not crying.” It wasn’t a lie. No water fell from her eyes; it just welled behind the lids. “I’m not upset. I’m . . . relieved. I . . . it was nice, what you . . . said.” She clamped her mouth closed before something truly stupid emerged and looked down at the blanket, picking at a pill in the wool’s plaid pile.

  A touch beneath her chin drew her gaze back up. Gabriel’s eyes were mere inches from hers, shining with that beautiful caramel brown that suddenly looked like it could liquefy into pure sweetness and sex. Every masculine pore of his skin caught her attention and made her fingers itch to stroke the texture of his cheek. The scent of wind-blown skin and chocolate tantalized her.

  “Don’t be anything but what and who you are, Amelia Crockett.”

  His kiss brushed her mouth with the weightlessness of a monarch on a flower petal. Soft, ethereal, tender, it promised nothing but a taste of pleasure and asked for nothing in return. Yet, as subtle as it was, it drove a punch of desire deep into Mia’s core and set her stomach fluttering with anticipation.

  He pulled back but his fingers remained on her chin. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  When his fingers slid from her skin she reacted without thinking and grabbed his hand. “No. It’s . . . It was . . . Gah—” Frustrated by her constant, unfamiliar loss for words, she leaned forward rather than let mortification set in, and pressed a kiss against his lips, this time foregoing light and airy for a chance to taste him fully. Beneath the pressure, his lips curved into a smile. She couldn’t help it then, her mouth mimicked his and they clashed in a gentle tangle of lips, teeth and soft, surprised chuckles.

  “Crazy,” he said in a whisper, as he encircled her shoulders, pulling her closer.

  “Yeah,” she agreed and opened her mouth to invite his tongue to meet hers.

  First kisses in Mia’s experience were usually fraught with uncertainty and awkwardness about what should come next, but not this one. Kissing Gabriel seemed as natural and pleasurable as walking along a stunning stream full of rapids and eddies and satisfying things to explore. She explored them all and let him taste and enjoy right back. When at last they let each other go, her head continued to spin with surprise, and every nerve ending sparkled with desire.

  “That was unexpected,” he said, trailing his thumb down her cheek and alongside the corner of her mouth. “Did you know you have a talent for kissing?”

  A grown, professional woman should not turn to hot goo over soph
omoric compliments, she knew that. But goo turned her into a puddle while warmth crept up her neck and into her face.

  “I’ve never thought about it,” she said, closing her eyes to soak in his touch. “Kissing wasn’t on the medical boards.”

  “Had it been, you’d have aced the section.”

  “Do you always have such a silver tongue?”

  “Always. I’ve only recently started using it for good, though. It mostly only ever got me into trouble.”

  She frowned. “I find that hard to believe, I think.”

  “Oh, believe it. I was not always the suave, debonair, arrogant professional you see before you. I was the class clown, Doc. Voted ‘most likely to do a pratfall at a funeral.’ It’s a true story. I told you I was funny.”

  “No way. What happened to you?”

  “Iraq, I suppose. Not that Mr. Pratfall isn’t still in there. I still think they’re funny.”

  She thought a moment and reached for his free hand, contemplating the sinewy fingers, intertwining hers with his. “I guess it explains a few things. Like why you’re so tolerant of the men you’re working with.”

  “I understand using ridiculousness to avoid stress. I think I probably made two mistakes with this program—I picked men who seemed to have innate senses of humor, and I shared all my stories of prewar antics. I probably justified the behavior in their minds.”

  “On the other hand, you told me they didn’t start out this way.”

  “That’s right. They started out angry, hurt, defensive. For them to be laughing is, to me, a huge step toward healing. The next step is to channel the behavior and turn it into productivity. A couple of them are already making that change. Brewster is a hard nut. Finney is even harder. But it’s in there.”

  “Have you always fought so hard for the underdogs?”

  His only reply at first was a squeeze of her hand. The bright brown of his eyes sparked with deep thought. Finally he shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I was pretty self-centered when I was in school and college—it was all about looking for the laugh because then I knew I wouldn’t ever have to walk through life unnoticed. Even when I got to Iraq, hanging out with Jibril and his cousins and friends wasn’t about them, not at first. But, I’ve never wanted anyone to be picked on—my best pranks were always for the bullies.”