The Horseman's Bride

by Marilyn Pappano

  “Elly,” Olivia admonished. “You and Emma go play.”

  “But, Mom, he come to our house yesterday and didn’t even stop to say hello to me.”

  “That’s because he came to see your daddy, not you.” Olivia softened her words with a smile. “You’ll get a chance to see him. Now go on and play—and stay out of trouble. And stay out of the house. And out of the barn. And—”

  “But there’s not anything else to get into,” Elly protested as Shay let her slide to the ground.

  “Why don’t you go pick some apples for your ponies?” Shay suggested. “The tree’s out back.”

  As the girls ran off, Olivia leaned against the pickup, hands in her hip pockets, feet crossed at the ankles. When she’d moved here back at the beginning of the summer, she hadn’t owned anything more casual than an oh-so-feminine sundress or a perfectly matched designer short set, she’d worn a most fragile air, and her complexion had been peaches-and-cream pale. Now, in Wranglers, sleeveless chambray shirt and scuffed boots, she looked tanned, healthy and strong. “How’s it going?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “I see you’ve taken our advice.”

  “What ad—”

  “Reese and I told you to seduce him, remember? And obviously you have ”

  “What makes you say ‘obviously’?” Shay asked uneasily as she tucked her shirt a little tighter and combed her fingers through her hair.

  Olivia laughed. “Ooh, obviously you seduced him recently. I wasn’t referring to anything that might have happened in the last few hours. It’s just that you’ve got this look...”

  “What look?”

  “The same one I have The well-loved-woman look. Incredible satisfaction. Peace. Contentment.”

  Shay knew exactly what she was talking about. She’d envied Olivia for having it these past few months when she didn’t—when she thought she had no hope of ever having it again. “You know, Magnolia,” she said, feigning a sour tone, “I haven’t exactly been celibate the past six years—not even the past six months—and you never suggested that I had the look before.”

  “Because before, I never saw you after you’d been with Easy. The look has as much to do with love as making love.” Without missing a beat, Olivia changed the subject. “I persuaded my husband to knock off early today and celebrate the lovely fall weather with a cookout for our neighbors to the west Will you and Easy come?”

  “I’d love to ..” Abruptly remembering her agreement only a few hours ago to not ask him to go anywhere—for a while, at least—she caught herself. “... ask him if he will. Hang on a minute.” She retraced the trail, beaten in the grass, climbed the steps and pulled the screen door open, then came to a sudden, startled halt as a thin coat of white paint sprayed across her midsection.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you.” Easy’s expression wavered between amusement and contrition—with amusement winning out.

  “Better be careful, cowboy. I don’t have any other clothes here. Get too much paint on ’em, and I just may have to go naked.”

  “Well, it would be hard—” when she snorted, he rephrased “—difficult, but I think I could bear it.”

  “You could b-a-r-e bare it, ’cause, sweetheart, if I’m going to be naked, so are you. And if we’re both naked, it damn well better be hard. Otherwise, what’s the point?” She watched his eyes turn smoky as his mouth turned up in a sensuous smile.

  “There’d be a point,” he promised. “Speaking of...what was the point of your coming up here and distracting me at work?”

  “Am I distracting?”

  “Incredibly.”

  “Good.” She smiled smugly. “Magnolia—that’s Olivia to you—has invited us over for a cookout. I told her I had to check with you.”

  He looked past her, his gaze growing pensive, and she turned to see what he was looking at. The girls had returned with apples and were in the process of feeding Cherokee and Angel while Buck patiently waited his turn. Was it the horses who held his attention? The girls? Or all of the above?

  “Does Guthrie know she’s invited us?”

  “Yes, he knows. It’s okay if you don’t want to go,” she said, careful to keep her voice even and empty of emotion.

  He looked back at her and grinned “That’ll work better if you poke your bottom lip out like this—” he gently pinched it into position “—and cast your gaze downward and add a brave sniffle or two.”

  She slapped his hand away. “I’m not trying to manipulate you into agreeing. I’m trying not to influence you in any way. It’s your decision.”

  “But you would like to go.”

  “Sure. Magnolia’s my best friend.” Hearing her own words, she frowned. They sounded so strange...and felt so natural.

  “You never had the chance to have a best friend, did you?” Easy asked quietly.

  “Of course I did. I had you and Guthrie.”

  “A best girlfriend. In school you spent too much time with us. Afterward, I kept you moving around so much that you never had the opportunity to get close to anyone.”

  “The only person I wanted to be close to was you. But now I have a best friend, and it’s Olivia, and I would like to have dinner with them tonight if you don’t mind.”

  He looked at the Harrises again, then back at her. “I’d like that, too.” Taking her arm, he walked outside with her. “Olivia, what time do we eat?”

  “How’s six sound?”

  “Fine.”

  “Can I bring anything?” Shay asked.

  Olivia feigned a look of horror. “Oh, dear, please, no. I’ve heard about your cooking.”

  When Easy and the twins laughed, Shay treated each of them to an exasperated look. “For heaven’s sake, I own the best café in town!”

  “And it’s well known that Manuel and Geraldine don’t let you in the kitchen except to wash dishes,” Olivia retorted. “Face it, Shay, your talents lie elsewhere.”

  Shay’s smile was slow and womanly, and she directed it primarily at Easy. “They certainly do, and some folks around here are most grateful for it.”

  “I’m sure he is—I mean, they are,” Olivia agreed. The flush that colored Easy’s cheeks made her laugh. “You guys go back to doing whatever it was you were doing, and we’ll see you at six.”

  “We’ll be there,” Shay said. A normal evening out with Easy, time with Olivia, and watching him with Guthrie. She wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  Chapter 10

  They quit work at four-thirty and Shay went home to clean up and change for dinner. She had just dried off from her shower when the phone rang. Stretching across the bed, she snagged it on the third ring.

  “If you’re going to spend all your spare time at Easy’s, then the boy needs to get a phone,” her mother said.

  “And hello to you, too, Mom.”

  “He needs a phone, anyway. What if he fell and got hurt? He’d just be stuck there until you get home from work—and you work way too late.”

  “You know what, Mom? We’re not kids anymore. You don’t have to worry about us,” Shay said gently.

  “Where in the world did you get the idea that a mother quits worrying when her kids are grown?” Mary sounded incredulous. “You’ve all given me more anxious moments since you turned eighteen than you ever did before.”

  “I’ll talk to him about a phone,” Shay conceded with a grin.

  There was a moment’s silence—the kind that meant her mother was preparing to get to the point—then, “I got a call this afternoon from Inez Taylor.”

  Shay’s grin slipped, then slid into a wry smile. “And how is Chris’s mother?”

  “Just like her daughter. Remember what I told you when you were little and you wanted to get back at someone who’d done you wrong?”

  “You were full of advice when I was little. You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “You never wrestle with a pig. You just get dirty, and the pig has all the fun.”

  “Mom, Chris Taylor is one
pig I didn’t touch. Easy may have had a few things to say to her, but nothing that wasn’t well deserved. Under the circumstances, I thought he was generous in letting her walk away in one piece.” She picked up the lotion from the night table, squirted out a palmful and began massaging it into her legs. “What’s Chris’s version?”

  Mary affected Inez Taylor’s style of speech, colored with her own dry delivery. “Why, she was just trying to be friendly to that poor, poor Easy Rafferty, and you and he like to took her head off. He’s really very bitter—probably needs psychiatric help—why, he might be suicidal, maybe even homicidal. You know, with his emotional problems, along with his drinking problem—all his people drink, of course—it might not be safe for him to live here.”

  “Oh, please!” Shay exploded. “Easy’s not suicidal or homicidal, he doesn’t have a drinking problem, and to even suggest that it’s not safe for him to be here—”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t have to yell at me. I’m on his side, okay?”

  She took a deep breath, held it to the count of five, did it again and counted to ten, then sighed. “What did you tell Inez?”

  “That I knew for a fact he wasn’t homicidal, because if he was, Chris wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale. Lord knows, I’ve wanted to wring her neck a few times. I also told her that she’d raised an idiot for a daughter, which wasn’t surprising since she’s an idiot herself.”

  Shay’s grin spread ear to ear. “Good for you, Mom. I’m proud of you.”

  “Unlike Taylor women, Stephens women have brains and aren’t afraid to use them.” Then Mary echoed Shay’s sigh. “I just wanted you to be prepared. Inez does like to talk. She’ll probably be telling people that Easy’s a menace to society. Nobody’ll believe her, of course, but...gossip’s gossip. It’ll get around.”

  “Well, since Easy has sworn he won’t be going to town again, I don’t think it’ll get around to him. But I appreciate the warning. And if Inez Taylor says anything to me, I’ll remember the pig lesson. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “Good. It’ll look better if one of us shows some decorum before I snatch her bald.”

  Shay’s laughter gradually turned to tears. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispered.

  Mary sounded a little hoarse, too. “I figure it’s the least I can do to make up for all those good-for-nothing cowboy remarks. You have a good time tonight, and be careful on your way to work in the morning.”

  Shay hung up, then dressed in jeans and a sweater and started her makeup. For fourteen years, in her mother’s eyes, Easy had been a good-for-nothing rodeo cowboy and Shay had been her empty-headed, fool-minded daughter. She’d told herself her mother didn’t mean it, not really. Mary had just been so upset about her jilting Guthrie, and she’d been best friends with Guthrie’s mother, who’d died only a few years later. But the remarks had still hurt.

  Now she’d gone from empty-headed and fool-minded to a woman with a brain. Though she’d done nothing to earn it—she was still a fool for Easy and always would be—she liked the change in her mother’s perception.

  She left her house at five-thirty, and she and Easy arrived at the Harrises’ place at exactly six o’clock. The twins met them as they climbed out of the truck, Elly skidding to a stop beside Easy, Emma coming to Shay.

  “Where’s your folks?” she asked as Emma sedately walked beside her.

  “Around back. They’re acting silly.”

  “What are they doing?”

  It was Elly who answered. In the gras

  “Oh, darlin’, dancing’s not at all silly. Wait till you’re older. You’ll see.”

  As they turned the corner into the backyard, Elly asked Easy, “Can you dance?”

  Shay glanced his way, expecting some discomfort, maybe a scowl or just a flat no. Instead, he shrugged. “I don’t know, Elly. I haven’t tried since the wreck.”

  “Maybe you can try tonight.”

  He looked up, caught Shay’s gaze. “Maybe I can.”

  But if he did, it wouldn’t be here, she knew. They’d never danced together unless they were feeling unusually strong or were reasonably close to a bed. Being so close, moving so intimately... it always did something to them ... and it was always incredible.

  The evening air was comfortable, though once the sun went down, the temperature would drop. It wouldn’t get too cold—just enough to justify snuggling on the glider, Shay thought. The picnic table was set with a cloth and real dishes, and steaks were marinating in a covered glass dish at one end while the charcoal burned in the nearby grill. A radio in the open kitchen window was tuned to a country station, and Guthrie and Olivia were dancing—sort of—between the lawn chairs.

  “They dance like we used to,” Easy murmured in her ear.

  “Hmm.” Awfully close, barely moving, lost in each other.

  The song ended, and the broadcast turned to news, but their hosts didn’t seem to notice. After a moment Shay cleared her throat. “Don’t let us intrude, Guthrie, Magnolia. We’ll just help ourselves to some dinner here, then run along. Or would you prefer that we stay here and watch the kids and let you run along?”

  Slowly they separated, but neither looked the least bit embarrassed. And why should they? They were married, and they were in love, and she was very happy for them.

  And very jealous.

  But her tune would come.

  “What would you like to drink?” Olivia asked. “We have iced tea, soda—I’m sorry, make that pop—and beer.”

  Shay requested iced tea, while Easy and Guthrie asked for beer. The girls instructed them to sit—Guthrie and Olivia on the glider, Easy and Shay in old wooden lawn chairs that still held the afternoon heat—while they served the drinks. Elly was giggling and acting silly, while Emma was a pint-size version of the gracious hostess her mother was.

  They talked about nothing—the weather, school, both Shay’s and the twins’ upcoming birthdays. By the time steaks were grilled and dinner was served, Shay couldn’t have repeated much that was said, but she treasured the time for that reason. Who ever would have believed that she, Easy and Guthrie could sit and talk for half an hour like friends about nothing?

  “Is this your beef?” Easy asked after tasting the ribeye. Underneath the table, Shay bumped her knee against his. Across the table Guthrie and Olivia exchanged glances, and at the end, both twins instantly tuned into the conversation.

  “Did I mention that the girls have named everything around here?” Guthne asked. “Everything—the bulls, the cows, the calves.”

  “Yes,” Olivia added with a smile. “They haven’t quite grasped the concept of what we raise cattle for. You see, when we send our calves away, we sort of adopt them out to new homes.”

  “To people who don’t got little calves of their own,” Elly added helpfully. “And then our mama cows have more babies so’s they don’t get lonesome, and when they’re big enough, we adopt them out, too.” She grinned ear to ear. “When Mom has a new baby, we’re gonna adopt Em out to someone else, and then I can be the oldest.”

  “Uh-uh!” Emma reached across to poke her sister even as Olivia said, “I’ve told you before, Elly, we’re not giving your sister away. Besides, you’re already the oldest.”

  “Only by eighteen minutes. If we adopt Em to somebody else, then I could be the oldest by five whole years. I could be the boss.”

  “Like you’re not bossy enough already?” Guthrie asked. “Besides, what would you do if the people decided they’d rather adopt you than Emma?”

  Elly considered it a moment while chewing a bite of food. After washing it down with pop, she said earnestly, “They prob’ly would want me, on account of Em’s timid and prissy, and I’m a real cowboy.”

  Emma’s face screwed up as if she were about to cry, then suddenly she smiled. An instant later Elly popped up off the bench, hopping on one foot. “Ow! She kicked me! Mom, Daddy, she kicked me really hard!” She ducked to look under the table, then came back up, her hair mussed. “Wow, and with san
dals, too. Good kick, Em.”

  Olivia smiled her sweetest smile at Shay and Easy. “Isn’t this fun? And can you believe it? In about six months, we’re going to have another one.”

  Darkness had settled, dinner was over, and dessert was just a memory. They’d toasted Guthrie and Olivia’s news with tea and beer, and now the evening had quieted down. Lights from the kitchen and mounted on tall poles leading out to the barn lit the yard, and music still played softly from the radio.

  Easy sat on the glider, with Shay curled up at his side, and considered the evening with more than a hint of wonder. For fourteen years he’d never believed such an evening was possible. For six years he’d known it wasn’t...that Shay would never forgive him, Guthrie would never forgive either of them. But here they sat, like old times—but better. They were older, had been through a lot and were smart enough to appreciate what they had. He wished he had more—wished his hip was in better shape and those fingers would magically reappear—but he was grateful to be alive. He was grateful as hell to have Shay at his side.

  “Mr. Easy?” Emma’s voice came baby-soft and hesitant from the quilt she shared with her sister. It was the first time she’d ever spoken to him, and when he turned his gaze to her, she looked as if she regretted it. But she wasn’t quite as timid as Elly would have him believe. She didn’t back down or run to her mother and hide. She swallowed hard and asked, “What happened to your hand?”

  For a moment everything got still and stiff. Even the music seemed to fade away. Guthrie and Olivia both straightened in their chairs, and Shay reached out for a pat. Reassuring him? he wondered. Or herself?

  It was Elly who broke the silence, taking her sister to task in a whisper loud enough to reach the barn. “Emma, you’re not s’posed to ask personal questions.”

  “It’s all right,” Easy said, and surprisingly, it was. It was easier to deal with in a straightforward manner. He’d discovered that with Elly. “I was in an accident. My truck went off the road.”

  “And it hurted your hand and leg?”

  He nodded.

  “Our other father was in an accident. His car went off the road, and he was killed.”