by Lauren Canan
“She’s amazing.”
“My grandfather was concerned about this breed slowly being integrated with horses of solid color. If no one stepped up, we could have lost the DNA that produces these amazing markings. Thankfully several ranchers joined in, and they turned it around. Dad started a small herd years ago. I think today we maintain about thirty for our own use, including breeding stock.”
With her long multicolored mane and tail and intricate patchwork of black against the white body, the horse was breathtakingly beautiful.
“Over here is a roan or, specifically, an Appaloosa.” Wade moved down to the next stall. “They are also known for their odd markings. Most common is dark brown legs, mane, tail and lower body. Then they have a white blanket on their rear with tiny brown spots inside. This pattern is typical, but some are white with small brown or black spots covering the body, neck and legs.”
“Sounds like you’re describing a dalmatian.”
Wade smiled. “That’s what many look like. Often they have bold, clearly defined stripes on their hooves. Their temperament, endurance and versatility make them very popular. The Appaloosa and the Quarter Horse, more than any other breeds, helped make the West what it is.”
They continued down the long aisle, Wade answering questions, and Victoria bubbling with excitement as stall after stall housed a horse that was beautiful and unique.
She felt as though she was staying at a Western resort. As they walked together down the center of a barn that had to house a hundred horses, Victoria couldn’t take it all in. Every breath contained the scent of freshly baled hay, cedar shavings and leather.
“Most of the horses on the ranch are Quarter Horses,” he explained. “You might see an Arabian or two and, of course, the Walkers. We breed and train the Quarter Horses and sell them to other ranches for work or recreation.” She watched as Wade looked around the huge structure with wonder in his eyes just like hers.
From the massive barn, they ventured to the foal paddock, where the newborns were just finding their legs.
“We keep the mothers and their babies in this area for the first few weeks, just to make certain everything is okay. Then they are turned out into the general pasture until the foals are six months old and it’s time to wean them.”
“They are so adorable.” The foals followed their mothers as they grazed. “It looks like they’re all legs.”
Wade chuckled, a sound she loved. “At this age, that’s just about what they are. But they’ll grow fast.”
“When do you start to train them?”
“Already started. As soon as they are born, they are fitted with a halter and taught it’s okay to feel pressure against their heads. By the time they enter this pasture, most can be led around. At six months, groundwork starts. They are trained to become used to someone handling them, brushing them, giving them baths. But they don’t feel a saddle until they are about two. At three they carry their first rider, and an entirely new training begins.”
Victoria didn’t know how long they stood watching the foals—their antics were so fascinating. Finally, Wade called it a day.
“It’s getting late. You must be hungry. Let’s head back. We can saddle up a couple of horses tomorrow, if you like, and I’ll show you more of the ranch.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She smiled and walked side by side with Wade out of the barn.
Nine
Wade was amazed. So far, Victoria hadn’t made any negative comments since they’d first gotten in the chopper and headed to the ranch. He figured, when she realized the cabin was remote, she would find a bone to pick with that, but she hadn’t said a word. She had even seemed to really enjoy looking at the horses. He just couldn’t figure it out. None of this was typical Victoria behavior. Inside he was glad. Especially after what they’d shared. But at the same time, he remained cautious. None of it made any sense. It was the same twist-tie emotion he’d had since bringing her home from the hospital. He expected the worst but relished the feeling of delight when her behavior was nothing like what he’d anticipated.
Tomorrow they would head up to Stockman’s Ridge. The only way to get there was on horseback. There were some really scenic views, but it was a tough ride. They should get back before the sun disappeared to attend the campfire. They’d sit on a log, eating red beans and sausage cooked over an open fire with some corn bread. As a kid it had been one of his favorite meals. No French chef, no expensive wine. And the only music was if one of the ranch hands brought his guitar.
If Victoria survived tomorrow, he was going to give up watching for inconsistencies in her behavior and just accept that she had amnesia and wasn’t faking it. He had to accept it. Short of having her muck stalls, there was not a lot else he could do to bring out her true colors. If it turned out she really did love the ranch and the horses, he would enjoy every minute he was with her until her memory did truly return. If she changed at that time, he would face and deal with it then.
He certainly had never expected, with all the men she’d paraded around, that she would be a virgin. He’d almost lost it that night. No, Victoria wasn’t at all what he expected when he brought her home from the hospital. And he thanked his lucky stars for that. If she truly did love the outdoors as much as he did, it was a match made in heaven. And that he was hard-pressed to believe. He must always remain aware that this was, in fact, Victoria. Her memory could come back at any time and bring with it the return of her old self as she was before the accident. A tinge of sadness touched his heart. Would there ever be a time he could believe she was who she presented herself to be?
When they returned to Pine House, a member of the household staff told them their bags had been left in the upstairs hallway outside the master bedroom. She ran up the stairs, curious to see what it looked like. The room was very spacious, with a large bed in the center draped in silk and printed with images of deer and the forest. Across from the door a balcony beckoned. Pushing the heavy drapes aside, she pulled open the French doors. Below her was the barn, with pastures and trees surrounding it as far as she could see. In the distance she spotted a river with bright blue water. The whole setting was breathtaking. How could Wade not want to live here?
Dinner that night was around a campfire. About twenty of the ranch hands joined them, digging into the red beans, sausage and corn bread. She took her plate, fork and napkin and found a seat on a huge overturned tree trunk. Wade soon joined her. The ranch hands ran the conversation, and Victoria was content to sit, eat and listen. Talk about some tall tales. Most were hilarious stories, and many involved Wade and his brothers as kids. She laughed and ate until she felt she would pop.
She glanced at Wade, who sat back with his hat pulled low over his face, listening to the stories, occasionally denying he had any part in the mischief being described. This would cause the guys to all boo good-naturedly. There was nothing arrogant or snobbish about Wade. He’d known many of them most of his life, and it appeared they liked him just like they would one of their own. He should be here, she thought. This was his home.
She realized she was looking at a completely different man from the one who lived in Dallas. Rather than having a forced smile on his face, this Wade sat back, totally contented and happy. He seemed to speak more freely and had an overall laid-back demeanor.
As the group began to break up, Wade and Victoria walked back to the house. “Did you want anything to keep by the bed in case you get thirsty tonight? Water? Tea? The housekeeper has the night off.”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“Which side do you want?” Wade asked as they entered the suite.
“It doesn’t matter to me. You pick.”
She grabbed her nightgown and headed for the shower. Soon she was standing under the water, the warm spray enveloping her. The thought of sleeping with Wade that evening had her heart pumping. Wanting to be with him was turning into
a craving so deep it almost hurt.
After a quick shower, she brushed her teeth and applied facial cream before brushing out her long hair. The flesh-colored silk nightgown clung to her curves, from her breasts to her hips. She opened the door and gazed out into the suite. It was dark. She could just make out the bed and the large figure on the far side of it.
She quietly padded to the free side of the bed, lifted the covers and climbed in. The mattress was indented from his weight, causing her to roll in that direction. Turning away, she wiggled until she could catch a hold of her side of the mattress and scoot herself over. This was a heck of a thing. If she let go, she would slide back against Wade.
“You can’t possibly sleep holding on to the side of the mattress.” Wade’s deep voice carried a bit of humor. “Chance and Cole each have their own home. I’m the only one who sleeps in here, and I usually sleep in the middle.”
“Great.” She grabbed one of the extra pillows and tucked it between them. It helped a little. Turning her back to him, she plumped the pillow under her head and tried to get comfortable. It was chilly in the room; the temperature really dropped here at night. She reached down toward her feet and grabbed the extra cover. Spreading it over her, she once again plumped her pillow and tried to find a comfortable position.
Silence filled the room. Victoria closed her eyes. It felt really odd to be sharing a bed with her husband with a pillow crammed in between them.
“Wade?” she whispered. “Are you asleep?”
“No.”
“It feels funny.”
“What feels funny?”
“Sleeping in the same bed with my husband and having a pillow stuffed between us.”
“I didn’t put it there,” he muttered. With a brief movement, he pulled it from between them and sent it flying across the room. “Problem solved.”
“I was trying not to smush you.”
“Sweetheart, you couldn’t smush me if you tried. Don’t worry about the bed. If you end up on top of me by the morning, there will be no complaints from this side.”
“I know this should feel normal, but—”
Wade rolled onto his other side to face her. He propped himself up by the elbow and leaned in toward her ear. “One night is all it will take to feel normal.”
Victoria was quiet. One night of what? One night of sleeping in the same bed? One night of feeling his warmth next to her? One night of making love?
Any of the three would work.
“You’re right.” Whatever he meant.
“Roll over, away from me,” he said in a deep, rich voice. She did as asked, and his arm came around her, just below her breasts. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good. If you get too hot during the night, be sure to wake me up.” He kissed her on the neck. “Mmm. You smell good.”
She lay with her head on the pillow and Wade’s arm around her. Her back was warmed by his tight abs and powerful chest. She could feel his erection against her bottom and fought not to shift against it. She could hear her heart beating in her ears and struggled to breathe normally.
She couldn’t say how long she lay in that position, but it grew hot. Who was she kidding? Wade was a man in every sense of the word, and he knew how to please a woman. She knew it in every cell in her body. And he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
“Wade, are you asleep?”
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked in an innocent voice.
“It’s hot.”
She heard him chuckle before he turned her over to face him. His lips covered hers, and his hands got busy making it a lot hotter.
* * *
After a quick shower, she dressed in jeans, a cool blouse and her new sneakers, then hurried down the stairs.
“Ready to do a little exploring?”
“Absolutely.”
Victoria glanced around as she stepped off the bottom stair. Wade was standing next to the kitchen bar, a shirt held in one hand, a letter in the other. Whatever its contents, it had captured his attention and the way he was dressed captured hers. He was wearing jeans—tight, worn, ripped jeans that hugged his body like a second skin. Above the leather belt, a tight six-pack led upward to a broad chest and wide shoulders. The muscles underneath his skin moved like well-oiled steel cables. She’d never seen him dressed in anything but a suit or jogging pants. But in jeans, he was...amazing. It didn’t take a pair of tight jeans for her to know that, but they served as a great reminder.
“The sugar and cream are on the table. Do you want something to eat?”
He reached out for his cup of coffee, taking a sip, then setting it on the bar without taking his eyes off the letter. Did the man not know the effect he had on women? On this woman, at least? It was like someone put all the world’s sexier-than-hell ingredients in a pan and stirred. The final product stood nonchalantly in front of her. And his innocent manner just made it worse. Or better, as it were.
When she didn’t answer the question, he looked up. “Victoria?”
“What? Oh. Uh. No. Not hungry.” She turned away as she felt the blush spread over her face.
“You don’t look like you had a good night.”
“I had a very good night.” She smiled at him. “I require very little sleep.”
“Good thing,” he said and winked.
“Do you have something I can take along to drink on the trail? Maybe a lemonade?”
She realized she was staring at him again. She couldn’t help it. He frowned, no doubt sensing something was up. She turned toward the fridge and her hand accidently brushed against some glasses on the counter. Scrambling, she managed to catch them before they fell and shattered. He tilted his head and those golden-brown eyes glittered wickedly as though he’d just realized the effect he was having on her.
“You up for a horseback ride?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
“Have you ever ridden horses before?”
Victoria just shrugged.
“Right. Well, we’re going to find out. Did you find a lemonade?”
“A what?”
“You were looking for a lemonade...”
“Oh, right. I found a Diet Coke. That will do.”
“Then let’s go.” He swung his shirt around his shoulders and pushed his muscled arms into the long sleeves. Then he proceeded to fasten the front, button by button. For Victoria, it was torture.
They returned to the massive barn, where two horses stood saddled and ready. Wade pointed to the Tobiano paint she’d loved when she’d seen it the day before. Following instinct, she took the reins and approached the mare from the animal’s left side. Using the portable steps made it easy to reach the stirrups, and soon she was in the saddle and ready to go. She shot a grin of accomplishment at Wade, who nodded his head with approval. He mounted a nice chestnut gelding and they were off.
It didn’t take very long to get the feel of the paint mare. The Tennessee Walker was well trained and had a smooth gait. After an hour Victoria felt as though she’d been riding all her life.
They followed the river that snaked through the Masterses’ property for miles, through stands of pine and over occasional hills with views that were picture-book quality. Wade seemed completely at home in the saddle. Even to someone who was not used to horses, it was clear he’d been riding pretty much his entire life. This ranch was his home. The wind that blew through the trees called to him. The crisp morning air fed his spirit. Here, he was in his element. Victoria liked who she was with now.
“Are you getting hungry?” Wade asked from beside her. “It’s almost one o’clock.”
“I could eat.” She nodded. “But I don’t think we’ll find a restaurant out here.”
“You might be surprised.” He grinned.
Sure enough, the trail they’d been following took a sharp curve
to the right and went steadily uphill, away from the river. When they reached the top, Victoria immediately spotted a quilt spread out over the grass and a picnic basket placed in the center. It was an area that bordered a steep cliff, and a view of the whole valley was before her.
Quickly dismounting, she tied the mare by her halter rope to a nearby tree and hurried to the blanket. “Oh, my gosh, Wade! The view is breathtaking.”
Wade dismounted and joined her. “This was one of my favorite places to come as a kid. Just over this hill—” he nodded to his right “—the river catches up with it, and there are some good places to fish.”
She looked at him and smiled.
“So how are you doing with the horse?” he asked.
“Good, I think. She is amazing. So easy to ride.” Victoria looked out over the terrain. “I just can’t believe the beauty of this place. You need to have a painting done and hang it in your house.”
“My mother was the artist of the family. She did landscapes, portraits. You’ll see the paintings displayed in most of the buildings on the property. I don’t know if she ever got up here. I don’t remember seeing one depicting this view.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Do you paint, Victoria?”
“I don’t know. I must have done some before the accident, because right now I’m itching to have a charcoal pencil and a sketch pad. But whether it’s just being caught in the moment of this beautiful place or if I really can paint, I couldn’t tell you.”
“We should go into town and get you some paints and a couple of canvases.”
She shook her head. “That’s too much trouble. But some paper and pencils would be great.” The idea of getting some of the beautiful places she’d seen this morning on canvas intrigued her, but better to take small steps. Her phone had been destroyed in the accident. Pictures would have been great.
After they had finished their meal and a shared bottle of wine on the bluff overlooking the valley, they mounted their horses and continued down the trail, again finding the river. Through tree-covered hillsides and grassy pastures flanking the river, they made their way farther north.