Figuring out about the music had been a happy accident, but even without that, he would have taught her to ride a trot. It might have taken longer, like she said, but he’d have accomplished the task. Failure had not been an option.
After the third time around with the earbuds in, he asked if she’d like to try it without them and imagine the music playing instead.
“You want to take away my pacifier?”
“Or your training wheels, however you’d rather think of it. I doubt you want to be wearing earbuds when you’re the maid of honor at Georgie and Vince’s wedding.”
“Guess not.” But she was obviously reluctant to give up what had worked so well.
“Using them on a trail ride isn’t a good idea, either. For one thing, you’ll miss all the sounds of birds and other creatures. You’ll miss the sound of the wind in the trees. For another thing, you might miss something critical that would be good to know when you’re out there in what is essentially a wilderness.”
She regarded him with an expression he couldn’t interpret.
“Did that last part scare you?”
“No. You’re making me realize how much my fear of horses has cost me and I’m stunned by what I’ve lost. In this country, riding is the way to experience wild things. I’ve essentially cut myself off from whatever’s out there. The Ghost, yeah, but what about the rest? What about bobcats and coyotes and wild turkeys? And the scenery? Georgie says the waterfall in the box canyon is breathtaking.”
“It is. I thought of you when I was there yesterday. You’ll love it.”
“I know I will.” The light in her eyes said she’d love seeing it with him, too.
He realized that every time he’d imagined taking her to see that waterfall, they weren’t riding toward it the way he and Vince had. They were walking toward it hand in hand, and when they felt the mist on their faces, he’d kiss her. But that was pure fantasy and he needed to get over it before they made the trip.
“Ready to give up the earbuds this time around? You can sing if you want.”
“Maybe I’ll hum. I sometimes do that when I draw, especially when I’m alone.”
“You know, I thought I heard a little humming going on when you were doing Jasper’s portrait, but it was soft.”
“I probably was humming, but I don’t do it while I’m sketching portraits anymore. It makes my subjects uncomfortable.”
“I suppose it could for some people, although I wouldn’t care. What do you hum?”
“My favorites are ‘Amazing Grace,’ ‘Danny Boy,’ and ‘Streets of Laredo.’ ”
“Songs about death and dying?”
“It helps me remember there are worse things than drawing a lousy picture. But they seem to depress the hell out of most clients. Well, except for Ida. She plans to use one of my sketches for her obituary, so she says funeral songs are appropriate in her case.”
“I don’t have anything against sad songs now and then, but they’re too slow for a trot. How about humming the song you have on your phone, the one you’ve been using? It’s peppy. Cheerful.”
“Sure, I can do that. Might as well leave my stuff with you.” She unhooked her earbuds from around her neck and reached into the front pocket of her jeans for the phone.
He glanced down. She hadn’t meant it as a provocative gesture, but that didn’t keep him from remembering how she’d felt when he’d pulled her close last night.
He looked up in time to take the phone, its case warmed by the heat from her body. “Start off with a walk like before. Then, when you’re ready, go into a trot.”
“Okay.” Clicking her tongue the way he’d taught her, she nudged Jasper’s flanks and started around the corral humming “Amazing Grace.”
If there was a funnier, sexier, or more endearing woman in the world than Anastasia Bickford, he’d never met her. Just when he’d convinced himself that he could get through these lessons and then back away, she revealed another part of her quirky personality and he was hooked again.
Her funeral dirges made perfect sense when she explained why she hummed them. With death looming as a possibility, who could get upset about an imperfect sketch? Brilliant.
By the time she was across the corral from him, he couldn’t hear her humming anymore, but he knew when she switched over to pop music because Jasper broke into a trot. Anastasia stayed with him, following his lead as if they were dancing, just as she’d said.
He shouldn’t be surprised that music inspired her. It was another art form, after all. The band from last night had appeared to be a hit, so chances were they’d play again tonight. He wondered if she’d be there. He’d be home working on his floors. Safer that way.
Looking extremely pleased with herself, she trotted Jasper around the corral several times. With each circuit she appeared more relaxed. She began to glance at her surroundings instead of staring straight ahead.
He leaned against the fence, arms folded, and enjoyed the view. As her instructor, he had an excuse to watch her, a special perk of the job. She’d come a long way in a short time, but as Vince had said, when she was motivated she was unstoppable. It was a trait that could take her far in her career as an artist.
He could stand there and watch her all morning, but he thought she should quit while she was feeling strong and successful. He waved her over. “That’s enough for today.”
“I could go a little longer.”
“I know you could, but I want to make sure we end on a high note. Then you’ll be eager to come back tomorrow and hang out some more with ol’ Jasper.”
“You don’t have to worry about that anymore. Jasper and I are buddies.” She reached down and patted his neck.
“I’m really glad to hear you say that.” He opened the corral gate. “Riding skills are great, but if you don’t feel bonded to the horse, then it becomes a technical exercise.”
“That’s true in art. If you aren’t bonded with your subject, it shows in the work. You kept telling me to look at things from Jasper’s point of view. When I do that, it changes everything.”
“Yeah, it does.” He gestured toward the open gate. “After you.”
She walked Jasper out of the corral. The gelding would have kept on walking toward the hitching post because he knew the routine, but her soft whoa and a tug on the reins kept him there while Mac latched the gate. She was starting to act like a rider, not a scared woman clinging to the back of an animal she didn’t trust.
“That was good what you did right there.” Mac started over toward the hitching post and she clicked her tongue so Jasper would follow along. “You didn’t let him go wherever he wanted. You made him wait for me.”
She laughed. “I think what he wants is to get this saddle off. That cinch must feel like a corset.”
“I wouldn’t know. Never worn one.”
“I have, and it’s no fun. I’ve heard that men think it’s sexy, especially the black lace ones, but I don’t get it.”
“What can I say? It’s a guy thing.” Of course now he was imagining her wearing nothing but a black lacy corset and a smile.
“They should try one sometime and see how they like it. What good is a tiny waist and amazing cleavage if you can’t breathe?”
“I’d have to say breathing is more important than cleavage.” He was fascinated by the ease between them considering the topic. This was how they used to talk to each other all the time. Maybe they hadn’t lost that, after all.
“I know, right?” She reached the hitching post and dismounted with the cute little hop she’d perfected. “And it’s fake cleavage, anyway. Once you take off the corset, everything goes back the way it was before.”
Mac grinned. “Good point.” That comment was so Anastasia. He briefly allowed himself to imagine a life in which they were together in every sense of the word. Fun conversation and fun sex. No doubts, no
barriers. Friends and lovers. He didn’t trust himself to pull it off.
“Okay, bridle off, halter on, then saddle and saddle blanket off. Do I have that right?”
“You do.” Before they’d gone out to the corral, he’d had her practice unbridling and putting on the halter. She’d caught on fast. With her fear greatly reduced, she could concentrate more on his instructions.
“Don’t tell me anything unless I start screwing up.”
“I won’t.”
She started humming “Danny Boy” as she cautiously went through the steps he’d shown her. When she was finished, she stepped back, the bridle looped over her shoulder exactly as he’d suggested. “How’s that?”
“Excellent. I’ll take the bridle while you start unsaddling.”
“I should probably go hang it up myself.”
“Let’s not carry this self-sufficiency business to extremes. I’m right here, so I can hang up the bridle.”
“All right. Thank you. But I’m carrying the saddle into the barn. It’s a point of honor not to expect some big strong man to do the heavy lifting.”
He smiled. “Understood.” When he came back out, she nearly had Jasper unsaddled.
She huffed and puffed a little getting it off such a tall horse but eventually she carried it proudly toward the barn door.
“Will you be offended if I take off the saddle blanket?”
“Go for it.”
As he laid it over the hitching post to air out, he thought of calling out to remind her to bring the tote with the grooming supplies. Then he decided to wait and see if she remembered on her own.
Moments later she appeared, tote in hand. “I’m starting to get the hang of this.”
“You definitely are.”
“I just rub him down this time, right?”
“That should do it. We didn’t work him very hard this morning. After a trail ride we might need to be more thorough.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” She moved the cloth over Jasper’s neck. “You said you’d have both horses ready to go, but I want to help tack them up.”
“Listen to you using horse lingo.”
“I know! Anyway, I’ll be here early in the morning so I can saddle and bridle Jasper. Is five thirty good enough?”
“It is, but—”
“Then expect me at five thirty. Case closed.”
“All right. But don’t eat breakfast. I’m bringing it. We’ll stop somewhere on the trail to eat.”
“A breakfast ride.” She rounded Jasper’s hindquarters to finish the job. “That sounds perfect. Would you mind if I brought my sketch pad, just in case? I know we’re not going all the way into the canyon, but I’d like to have it, anyway.”
“By all means. We won’t be in any hurry. I don’t have anything else scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
She paused and glanced at him across Jasper’s back. “This is sounding like an event!”
“It’s your first trail ride, so it’s definitely an event.”
She hesitated. “Just so you know, the band’s playing again tonight, but I’m going to skip going down there. Not that it should matter to you whether I go or not, but—”
“Of course it matters to me. And for what it’s worth, I’d decided to stay home tonight, too.”
“I sort of figured you would. For one thing, Sadie’s will be even more crowded tonight. Some of the trail riders will already be in town.”
“Right.” That wasn’t his reason for not going, but it worked as an excuse. “I used to be all about hanging out in a noisy, crowded bar, but I realized last night it’s not as much my thing anymore.”
“I know what you mean. I’d dance the night away in college, but I’m over it.”
And then he had the crazy idea that it would be fun to invite her to his place for dinner. He could show her what he was doing with the house and they could sit on his front porch, drink a beer, and watch the sunset. He’d cook something simple for dinner, and then . . . Well, he knew what he’d want to do after dinner.
“Mac? Are you okay?”
Startled out of his little daydream, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry. Got distracted for a minute.”
“No kidding. You were a million miles away.”
He smiled. “Not quite that far.” He wouldn’t ask her to dinner, of course. That would take them down a road he wasn’t prepared to travel. But it had been fun to think about.
CHAPTER 18
Anastasia was so excited she had the shivers. In order to make it over to the stable by five thirty, she’d had to get up at a time when she’d been known to go to bed. But the prospect of a trail ride into Wild Horse Canyon with Mac, even if they didn’t go far enough to catch a glimpse of the Ghost, made climbing out of bed easy.
He’d told her not to eat breakfast, so she hadn’t, but she’d made a cup of coffee that was pure sludge to tide her over. Getting up had been a breeze. Staying awake now that she was up would take some dedication and caffeine.
Once she’d arrived, she’d helped with the saddling and bridling rather than insisting on doing everything for Jasper herself. The job went faster that way and she didn’t want to slow them down with her fumbling. And now, here they were, heading out the gate of the stable yard before sunup.
Mac led, but they’d barely cleared the gate before he turned in his saddle to check on her. “How’re you doing back there?”
“I feel like a kid on Christmas morning.”
He smiled. “I sort of do, too. Travis and I take greenhorns into the canyon every weekend, but this is the first time I’ve been able to show it off to someone I know, and an artist, at that.”
“I’m glad you’re excited, too, then.” The pace was slow along the paved road and there was no traffic at this hour. The steady clop of their horses’ hooves reassured her, but she took her greatest comfort from Mac. He rode with such confidence that he inspired it in her. “What’s your favorite thing about the canyon?”
“I’d have to say the waterfall, but Sing-Song Creek is also pretty. I like watching the morning sunlight moving up the canyon walls. We won’t see any wildflowers this late, but the cottonwoods are turning. You’ll see those on Monday when we make the complete trip.”
“Do I remember right that you don’t have anything you need to do this morning?”
“Not really. I told Ed I’d help him get ready for this weekend’s ride, but he doesn’t need me until around two.” He swiveled around toward her. “If you want to stop and sketch something, we have time.”
“Good. I just might.” Too bad she couldn’t sketch and ride at the same time, or she’d do one of Mac leading her down the trail. Somehow he achieved a relaxed posture without slouching.
She used what art school had taught her about muscle structure to figure out that he kept his lower back flexible so he could move with the horse. Breaking it down that way helped her copy him, although it didn’t feel natural yet. He looked as if he could maintain his position all day.
The trail wound through a grove of mesquite trees, and the sky was light enough now that she noticed spots where branches had recently been cut. As they continued on, she saw a few lying on the ground near the trail. “Has someone been out here trimming trees?”
“Yeah, me. I hauled some of the branches back to my house. If I have time today I’ll get the rest so I can cut them up. By next winter they’ll make great kindling.”
“When were you out here?”
“Yesterday.”
As she passed another tree with a branch that had been cut, she realized why. He’d spent part of yesterday removing anything that could pose a hazard for a passing rider. “Do you trim often?”
“When it needs doing.”
“So you cleaned things up for the trail ride this weekend?”
“That, too.”
“You did this mostly for me, though, didn’t you?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Thank you. That was so considerate.”
“Can’t have you getting all scratched up on your first trail ride. I didn’t go clear to the creek, though, because we won’t be out that far today. This particular grove was the most overgrown, anyway.”
“Well, I really appreciate it.” The sweet gesture warmed her in places she hadn’t known were cold. He obviously cared about her even if he didn’t think they could make a go of it.
They continued to mosey along, the saddles creaking and the horses’ hooves thudding softly in the dirt. But now she was watching for those cut branches, and every one they passed felt as special as if he’d given her a long-stemmed rose. They were only about twenty minutes into the ride and already it had been special.
“Hold up a minute.” He brought his horse to a halt. “Come alongside me. There’s room.”
She nudged Jasper. He drew abreast of Cinder and stopped the second she pulled back gently on the reins. Close quarters. Her right stirrup was only inches from Mac’s left one.
“Turkeys,” he murmured. “About fifteen yards ahead. Let’s give them a chance to cross.”
She peered into the shadows. She heard their soft gobbling first, and then she saw them meandering across the trail. As if showing off for her, one paused and spread his tail.
Mac’s camera phone clicked. He’d promised to take pictures because she didn’t feel confident enough yet to mess with her phone while riding a horse.
“Thanks for taking that. I’ve never drawn a wild turkey. Now I want to try.”
“I don’t know if the picture will be any good. The light’s still pretty dim.”
“But it could be fine for a reference photo, so send it to me, anyway. Poor turkeys. The canyon used to be named for them and now it’s not. No respect.”
“Face it, wild turkeys aren’t sexy. Wild horses are.”
And so was the cowboy sitting next to her astride the big black horse. Without these riding lessons, she’d never have shared this experience with him. He was in his element out here far more than he was on a barstool at Sadie’s.
Wild About the Wrangler Page 19