by Susan Fox
“Mount up!” Jess’s call interrupted his thoughts, and he swung into Rusty’s saddle, feeling almost proficient.
When the group was out on the trail, Evan reflected on what he needed to do. It was Thursday morning. He should definitely go home on Saturday. Already he’d been away longer than he’d anticipated.
As soon as he got back to the Crazy Horse, he’d call Gianni. Then, assuming his client gave him the okay, he’d reveal the truth to Jess, try to persuade her to forgive him for his deception, and find out all the details of her no-frills riding idea. Preferably before having dinner with the Blys.
His clients sometimes called him a miracle worker. But that was the Manhattan Evan Kincaid. The Crazy Horse Evan felt like an incompetent bumbler.
And even more so when, at the end of the morning ride, he asked Jess if they could get together sometime in the afternoon. By then he’d have talked to Gianni and be free to tell her the truth. But, with a head shake, she’d responded, “Sorry, it’s an insanely busy day.”
“It’s important. Jess, I need to talk to you about something.”
She’d looked mildly curious, but said, “Every minute’s scheduled. But we’ll have lots of time at supper tomorrow.”
One evening. He had one evening to accomplish everything he needed to, before returning to New York. If that’s how it had to be, he could handle it. Though he preferred to be organized and methodical, he also performed well in a crunch.
Once the horses had been dealt with after the morning ride, Jess whistled for Conti and rode into town.
After hitching her horse to the rail behind the Wild Rose Inn, she went in the back door. Poking her head through the kitchen door to greet Mitch, the cook, she filled her nostrils with a mouthwatering blend of cooking smells.
“What can I fix you?” Mitch asked. “Special today’s Santa Fe chicken salad.”
She groaned. “Sounds fantastic. But I don’t have time to stop. It’s one of my afternoons off from the Crazy Horse, and I’ve got a ton of work waiting for me at the ranch.”
Dave wasn’t in the manager’s office, but then he rarely was. His style of management was hands-on and friendly, and today he was behind the front desk providing a family with directions to Gold Rush Days Park.
Dave waved a hand at Jess, who waved back, then settled into a chair in the lobby, which was cleverly decorated to look rustic yet have modern-day comfort. She watched her ex affectionately. At six foot two—a couple of inches taller than Evan—he was as handsome, rangy, and fit as he’d been in high school. His sandy hair still flopped over his hazel eyes. He was still one of the most decent guys you could ever hope to know, though since Anita’s death he’d lost his vibrancy. He kept busy, but it was a busyness born of sorrow and emptiness rather than vitality. She wished she could help him.
He’d been there for her when she needed him most. When she found out she was pregnant, her first instinct was to get in touch with Evan. It wouldn’t be hard. She knew he was at Cornell in student housing.
But then she thought it through. Ev had always been adamant about not wanting kids. He might return, marry her, ruin his life, and totally resent her and the child, as his parents had resented him. Or he might try to force her to have an abortion. Neither alternative was one she would consider.
The reality of being pregnant made her focused and practical. This wasn’t a “someday in the future dream,” like her various horse-oriented ones; this was real, and imminent. She knew that her parents, after they overcame their shock, would support her. She and the baby would live with them, she’d help out with the ranch, and her mom would teach her how to raise a child.
But before she told her folks, she wanted a guy’s perspective—Dave’s perspective—on whether she was being fair to Evan.
Watching Dave now, she noted how patiently he listened to a little redheaded girl who was telling him some story that involved a lot of giggling.
He was such a sweet, even-tempered guy. And yet, when she’d told him about the night at Zephyr Lake and her pregnancy, he’d called Ev a lot of foul names she’d never heard him use before. He’d ranted about Evan not deserving anything except a sock in the jaw, which Dave would have been more than happy to deliver right to Evan’s door in Ithaca, New York. She told him Ev wasn’t to blame—which had him cussing and ranting all over again—and then she asked him to cool down and think it over for a couple of days.
When he came back, he stunned her by proposing marriage. He said he loved her and would love her baby, and he hoped and believed she’d come to love him.
It was Jess’s turn to go away and think. She was fond of Dave and truly respected him. Next to her pa, he was her favorite guy in the world, now that Evan had so thoroughly disillusioned her. Of course she could love Dave. He was perfect.
She and Dave agreed to tell the world he was the child’s father. While they hated to lie to their families and friends, the baby’s welfare came first.
They were married and Dave was so wonderful that Jess indeed grew to love him. Two months after Robin was born, Jess came into Dave’s bed for the first time, and over the next few months they experimented and played and learned to give each other pleasure. She told herself that was mature love—something quite different from the teenage lust she had felt for Evan.
Their marriage might have lasted forever if Dave hadn’t met Anita. Not that Jess begrudged him. A love like Dave and Anita’s came along only once in a lifetime.
A chorus of good-byes roused her from her reverie, and she realized the tourists were leaving.
“Hey, Jessie,” Dave called.
“Hey, good-looking.” She came over to the desk and leaned across to peck his cheek.
He tweaked her ponytail. “What brings you my way?”
“Can you take Rob tomorrow night?”
“Sure. She’s spending the weekend with me anyhow. We’ll just start early.” A sandy eyebrow kinked. “Couldn’t have asked me over the phone?”
“Uh, there’s a bit more to it.”
Now both eyebrows skyrocketed. “You don’t have a date?”
“No.” She bit her lip. “Mom and Pa invited someone for supper. He’s staying at the Crazy Horse and . . .” She glanced around, making sure they were alone. “It’s Evan.”
Dave’s mouth fell open. He started to say something, but his lips couldn’t form words.
“It was a big surprise for me, too.”
“What’s he doing here?” he demanded.
“It’s a long story. He didn’t know I worked there. You ought to have seen his face. He didn’t know I—you and I—had a child. Anyhow, when I told Mom he was around, she insisted I invite him over and—”
“And you don’t want him to meet Robin.”
“No.”
He gave one firm nod, his eyes blazing with a fire she hadn’t seen in a long time. “Good. I don’t want him to meet her either. She’s my daughter.”
She nodded back. “Yes, she is. She always has been, from even before she was born. Remember how you used to rest your hand on my tummy and let her kick you, and you sang Willie Nelson songs to her?”
He grinned. Then his face went somber and he said, softly but vehemently, “I won’t be losing her to him.”
Jess shook her head vigorously and whispered back, “No, you won’t. He doesn’t know. He won’t know. Not a soul knows but you and me, and no one else ever will. Not my folks, not Robin herself. We’ve always agreed on that.”
He let out a long breath. “Thanks. I knew that, I really did. I trust you, Jessie-girl, more than anyone in the world. Guess I panicked for a moment.” He stepped out from behind the desk and held out his arms to Jess.
She walked into them and they hugged long and hard.
When they separated, he touched her cheek. “How about you? How do you feel having him back in town?”
“Confused. God, but for Robin, I wish he and I had never hooked up. We were such good friends and we should have stuck with that.
Teenage hormones can really mess you up. Now, well, maybe we’re trying to find our way back to being friends.”
His gaze flicked up and down her body. “No ‘hormones’ this time around?” She heard the quotation marks he put around the word hormones. He knew she’d cared deeply for Evan.
Her cheeks warmed and she dropped her head.
Dave lifted her chin with his index finger. “Don’t let him hurt you again, Jessie.”
“Of course not.” She sounded too vehement. She knew it, and could tell from his concerned expression that he did, too.
“He’s only here for two weeks?”
She nodded. “Then he’ll go back to New York. He loves his life there. He’s got a girlfriend and they’re talking marriage.”
“He’s got a girlfriend, and yet you’re blushing over him?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t make the same mistake twice. But it’s funny . . .”
“What’s that?”
“There are only two guys I’ve ever been seriously attracted to. You and him. Other men don’t interest me. Is something wrong with me?”
He shook his head. “Not unless it’s wrong with me, too. For me, it was just you and Anita.” A shadow crossed his face, as it always did, when he mentioned that name. “I know there won’t be anyone else.”
She guessed he was right about that. When Anita died, he closed his heart to the possibility of loving again.
She gave him another, fiercer hug. “Got to go.”
“You ride over?”
“Yup, Conti’s hitched out back.”
He walked out with her. Mitch popped out of the kitchen to give her one of her favorite sandwiches: rare roast beef and mustard on dark rye. In payment, he got a kiss on the cheek.
Dave held the sandwich as Jess swung into the saddle. He rubbed her horse’s nose with gentle knuckles. “How you doin’, Conti?”
When Jess was settled in the saddle, he handed her the sandwich. “Where and when should I pick up our girl tomorrow? From school?”
“Uh, let’s see. No, it’s a professional development day and Kimiko’s coming out to the ranch. Maybe you could come by around five? Drop Kimiko off at home?” She unwrapped the sandwich and took a big bite.
“No problem. By the way, Rob and I are having supper with my folks on Saturday. A barbecue. My sibs will be there, and a couple of cousins, complete with families. You’re welcome, too.”
“Thanks, I just might. I’ll let you know.” The distraction of a big loving family might be exactly what she needed as an antidote for a week of Evan.
He gave her thigh a gentle swat. “You’re the best. Just remember to think with your brain, right? Not your . . .”
She snorted, then turned Conti so quickly the horse’s tail flicked Dave’s face.
Chapter Eight
On Friday morning Evan woke feeling almost content. Perhaps it was because this was his last day at the Crazy Horse, or maybe it was because yesterday he’d convinced Gianni to let him tell Jess the truth.
He enjoyed the hearty breakfast and participated in the conversation. The guests sure were friendly and relaxed, compared to the people he and Cynthia worked and socialized with. It took some getting used to, but he was beginning to fit in.
He snagged a handful of carrots—still not trusting Rusty with an apple—then went back to his cabin to exchange his sneakers for the pointy-toed boots, which had loosened up enough to be almost comfortable. Outside his cabin, he met up with Ann and Sandy, and the three of them chatted companionably as they made their way to the barn. “I’m looking forward to the session on horse care and communication,” Sandy said enthusiastically.
“It should be interesting,” he said noncommittally.
Ann caught his eye and gave a snort. “Tell us what you really think, Evan.”
The two women chuckled, and he joined in. “I’ll try to keep an open mind.” Besides, this was one of the things Gianni had mentioned in Jess’s plans for her riding camp. He’d have another opportunity to observe and evaluate.
Although Jess had yet to tell him about her latest dream, the week had given him ample chance to assess a number of relevant factors. She was great with the guests as well as with her assistant. Everyone who’d taken riding lessons was full of compliments for her skill and patience. She trained most of the horses herself, and they were all good tempered and well mannered, even if a few, like Rusty, had a sense of humor—but hey, that wasn’t a bad thing.
Jess kept the tack and horses in great shape, and trail rides left and returned on schedule, or at least as much as possible given the unpredictability of both the horses and the guests.
He was convinced Jess made the perfect employee for a place like the Crazy Horse, or the camp she had in mind. What he needed to know now was whether the girl who used to hate homework could plan, administer, and market a business.
In the barnyard, he and the two women split up and went to their horses. Evan greeted Rusty with carrots and a pat on the neck, then saddled up and exchanged halter for bridle.
Madisun tossed him a grin. “You’re a pro.”
With an exaggerated groan he hoisted himself into the saddle. “And one day even this will get easier, right?”
“You’ll be springing up effortlessly before we’re done with you.”
“I almost believe you. Now do you want to sell me a bottle of snake oil?”
Her delighted burble of laughter made him grin. He wasn’t used to making women laugh. It could get addictive.
As the line of riders wound along the trail, he found himself savoring the sun on his face and shoulders, the scent of trees—pine, he’d heard Jess say—and roses. The wild rosebushes really were pretty, with their simple blossoms ranging from pastel to vivid pink. For the most part, the riders didn’t talk and the only sounds were the clomp of hooves, creak of leather, and occasional chitter of squirrels and birds. It was boring, but somehow not quite as boring as it had been on previous days. In fact, it was rather peaceful. He worked a few investment plans in his head but had trouble concentrating, and eventually found himself content to just drift along.
He remembered thinking that he couldn’t relax without the Internet. It seemed he’d been wrong. Just as well he was heading back to Manhattan tomorrow, before his work ethic eroded entirely.
Back in the barnyard, Jess and Madisun instructed several guests on how to remove tack. Each day, more people wanted to take care of the horses themselves. Evan felt smug at managing perfectly well on his own. He stroked Rusty’s neck as he waited for the others to finish up.
Jess came out of the barn lugging a box, which she dumped on the ground. “We’ll talk about communication, then we’ll get to grooming.” She lifted a wicked-looking spiked metal implement from the box, then let it drop back.
They were going to use that for grooming? He couldn’t imagine Rusty being too happy about that.
“I know Thérèse and George know about Monty Roberts,” Jess said. “Have any of the rest of you heard of him?”
Evan recalled Gianni mentioning the name. A couple of hands went up and Ann said, “The original horse whisperer.”
Jess nodded. “He’s been a groundbreaker in the way we think about—and treat—horses. You’ve seen old movies where cowboys ‘break’ horses with whips and spurs?”
Heads nodded.
“How would you feel about someone who treated your dog or cat like that?”
“I’d want to string him up,” Kim called out, and others muttered agreement.
“Me, too. Now, how do you think an intelligent creature would end up if they were treated that way? Obedient maybe, but . . . ?”
“Scared,” Evan said softly, remembering Mo Kincaid’s fists. Others added “mad” and “resentful.” He was nodding and, across the barnyard, noticed Madisun doing the same. There was something about the look on her face . . .
But then Jess spoke again, and he focused on her.
“All of that,” Jess said. “And whe
n you’re dealing with more than a thousand pounds of living animal, do you want that animal feeling scared and hostile? Or do you want him to be your willing partner?” She moved to a line of tethered horses, stroking noses and rubbing cheeks. “These are noble, courageous animals. If you treat them with respect, with love, you can enter into a partnership that’s unique.”
Like people, Evan thought. Like what he and Jess once had. Watching her, casually attractive and graceful in her Western garb, he noted that she’d developed presence, a natural confidence and ability to hold the group’s attention. Now, if only she’d also developed a head for business, he could actually recommend that Gianni invest in her riding camp.
She faced the guests. “Those of you who have pets know what it’s like to have that magical sense of bonding with an animal. But think of the difference. The horse is far bigger and more powerful than a dog. He can kill you. Don’t ever forget that.”
A few people glanced uneasily at the horses, but Evan shook his head. Not these animals. Not the way Jess had trained them. But he understood what she was doing. “Guess I’d better show you some respect,” he muttered to Rusty.
Jess went on. “If you face a mugger on the street and he’s got a knife, he has the power. What do you do? Make him mad? Try to scare him? No, you acknowledge his power. You respect it.
“Well, a horse has power. But—unless he’s been mistreated and his soul damaged—he wants to give that power to you, to share and use. He wants to please you. And he will go to amazing ends to do so. You’ve probably all heard stories of horses who have died for their masters. Their hearts are that big.”