The Cowgirl Who Loved Horses, Queens of Montana Bonus Book

by Vanessa Bartal

  Chapter 16

  For the next couple of weeks Cecily threw herself into work at her ranch. Every morning Jessup was waiting on her to help her with her horse. She tried to do as Marcus wanted and ignore him, but they usually ended up talking horses for a few minutes at the beginning and end of the day.

  In the evenings she volunteered to help Lydia with supper or cleanup, but the older woman always refused with a one-word, “No.” That was the limit of their communication.

  Nightly supper had become a stressful event that usually ended in awkward, oppressive silence. In the beginning Cecily tried to ask questions and make small talk, but Evan was a quiet man by nature and Lydia kept her head down and refused to talk--until one night when she couldn’t seem to stop talking.

  “Remember, Marcus, when you and Libby used to go out riding some nights after supper,” she said.

  Marcus looked at her in confusion because she said it randomly and out of the blue.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Those were good times,” she commented.

  “Uh, huh,” he agreed, still sounding wary and uncertain. He looked at Cecily out of the corner of his eye. “Cecily is amazing on a horse. She probably could have gone pro, although now it’s too late. I don’t want her around all those other men.” He winked at her and smiled.

  Her happiness was short-lived when Lydia continued. “Libby was such a helpful, sweet girl. She always worked in the kitchen with me to make supper, and there wasn’t a night she was here that she didn’t help clean up.”

  Cecily’s cheeks flamed with the injustice of it all. She had offered to help every night since her arrival, but she had been rebuffed. Now Lydia was making it sound like she was content to sit on her laurels and be waited on. If she tried to defend herself she would come off looking like an oversensitive nut job because there had been no blatant accusation.

  “Libby likes working in the kitchen, Mom,” Marcus said.

  “Some girls aren’t cut out for domesticity, I guess,” Lydia said.

  But I do like to work in the kitchen, Cecily wanted to say. I do like to cook and clean, I just have other priorities right now.

  “Jessup tells me you’ve been doing some horse breeding over at that ranch of yours,” Evan said. She thought he probably said it to rescue her by turning the topic to a safe one, but it had the opposite effect.

  “Jessup?” Marcus inserted. “What does he know about it?”

  “Quite a lot,” Evan blustered on, totally oblivious to the tension he was creating. “I’ve never had much taste for horse breeding, but I can see how we need something like that in these parts. Jessup asked if he might be allowed to help out at your place. I told him yes.”

  “Thank you.” Cecily forced the words past stiff lips. Her dear, sweet father-in-law had no idea how much he had just complicated her life, but her mother-in-law did. She was now smiling pleasantly as she heaped another helping of potatoes on Marcus’s plate.

  Marcus was now sitting stiff and silent beside her.

  I have got to get out of this house, Cecily thought. She offered to help Lydia clean up and practically ran away when the woman gave her a scathing look and shook her head.

  She sprinted to the one place of solace that always brought her comfort--her horse. Thankfully Jessup was nowhere around, so she saddled her horse for herself and took off at breakneck speed.

  After a half an hour of hard riding she slowed her horse to a walk and let him amble along a pretty stream. The pastoral scene had a soothing effect on her frayed emotions.

  The problem was that everything was out of her control. She couldn’t control how Lydia felt about her. She couldn’t control Marcus’s unfounded jealousy. She could control her actions and reactions, but so far she didn’t think she was doing anything wrong.

  She hopped off her horse, picked up a rock, and skipped it in the stream.

  “It’s not fair,” she raged out loud.

  “What’s not?”

  She jumped and spun to look at Marcus.

  “Everything,” she said.

  He slipped off his horse and came to stand beside her. He picked up a rock to skip. “This reminds me of that day in the stream, acting like kids. Except now we’re doing it with our emotions.”

  She frowned and put her hands on her hips. “Are you calling me immature?”

  “Yes, but I’m including myself in that description. I’m acting like a jealous teenager.”

  She waited for him to continue to criticize himself, but instead he turned on her. “And you’re acting the same way over Libby, a woman who is happily married and lives far away.”

  “An hour is not far away,” she contradicted.

  He stared at her without reply. He had to see how his mother was fueling the situation, didn’t he? How could she stand to hear herself being compared to Libby, a paragon of virtue in his mother’s eyes?

  Finally a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She was beginning to know that look, so she wasn’t surprised when he strode over and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

  “Let’s compromise and say that I am acting immature and jealous over Jessup, and you’re acting immature and jealous over Libby.” He leaned close and pressed his lips to her neck.

  “You’re six years older. You should be better behaved,” she said weakly. She couldn’t resist him when he kissed her neck, and he knew it. After only a few weeks of marriage, he had learned her weakness and routinely used it against her.

  He laughed and the vibration tickled. “You don’t give an inch do you, Mrs. Henshaw?”

  Hearing her name on his lips made her already weak knees weaker. “I might be persuaded.”

  He pulled her closer, but she stilled his hands.

  “I didn’t bring anything from the drawer.”

  “I think we’re all right,” he said. “Just this once. We’ll be careful from now on.”

  She studied him, uncertainly. Finally she smiled. “See? I do occasionally give in to you,” she said, and then she put her face up to be kissed.

  The sun was starting to set as they lay by the stream, arm in arm.

  “We should go,” he said.

  She groaned.

  He smiled. “I have to say, it was nice not to have to use the radio.”

  “We wouldn’t have to use it ever again if we moved to my house,” she said.

  He sighed. “I know it’s difficult on you to live with my parents, Lee. All I’m asking is that you’re patient for a little while longer. Let me give them time to heal from Mathew’s death and adjust to our marriage and then we’ll find a place of our own. Besides, think of the rent we’re saving.” He poked her waist.

  “This must be how the Henshaws got their wealth. They’re all skinflints.” She rolled away and sprang up when he came after her.

  “Just for that I’m going to tell you what I came out to tell you in the first place before you distracted me,” he said.

  “What?” she asked. She allowed him to catch her and clasped her arms around his neck.

  “Your mother called after you left the house,” he said. “She’s coming for a visit.”

  She gasped, placed her hands over her mouth, and would have fallen over if he didn’t catch her.

  “Lee, what’s the big deal? It’s just your mom.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “She doesn’t like me.”

  “Of course she does,” he said.

  She sighed in exasperation. “Marcus, will you please stop saying that when I tell you people don’t like me? I know who does and doesn’t like me.”

  “Sure you do,” he said patronizingly. “Why do you believe your own mother, your flesh and blood, doesn’t like you?”

  “Because my father does,” she said. She sat on the bank once again and plucked a long blade of grass. “My dad has always favored me since my birth. He used to be horrible to Dante; it was
what caused my parents’ divorce. But the way he doted on me added to it.”

  He sat down across from her and took her hand. “You think she’s jealous of you because you had the brunt of your father’s attention,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “I suppose that makes sense,” he said. “But here’s the good news: I’m right here.”

  She looked at him in wonder. It had honestly never occurred to her that he would help her face her mother. “You’re my husband,” she murmured, a bit of awe in her tone.

  “Last time I checked,” he said dryly. “We’re partners, in every way.”

  Her answering smile was jubilant. “And I thought you were here only for my physical enjoyment. This is like sprinkles on ice cream.” She pulled him close and kissed him, and then they hopped on their horses and rode home.