Cowboy Enchantment

by Pamela Browning

  Hank ran a bold hand up the inside of her leg. “We can be back before anyone notices. Let’s—”

  “Your time is up,” said the white-garbed attendant as she yanked aside the curtain. Erica had to pull herself out of this pleasant daydream to the present time and place, where she was divested of her plastic wrapper, which she had begun to appreciate in the last few minutes.

  Still covered in mud, she was led to a multijet Swiss shower and instructed how to position herself so that the attendant could spray her with a high-pressure hose. Then she was treated to a thorough massage. Finally, when she felt as limp as a noodle, she rejoined Natalie and Shannon in the lounge, where they collapsed into contoured chairs, guzzled fruity drinks and laughed together about the experience.

  After lunch, Erica kept her appointment with an optometrist, hired by Justine to come to the ranch once a week to help with makeovers.

  “I’ve never been able to wear contact lenses before,” Erica said doubtfully when the exam was over. “I’ve never been able to get a good correction.”

  Dr. Levin looked up from her notes. “The ones I’ve prescribed shouldn’t pose a problem. You can start to wear them right away, and you should call me if you have any trouble. You’ll need to decide what color you want to order.”

  “They come in colors? That’s amazing.”

  “Sure. You can order hazel, dark brown, light brown, blue with violet centers, deep blue, green—”

  “I get the idea,” Erica said hastily. “One pair in every color, please.”

  The doctor raised her eyebrows in amusement but did not comment.

  At least, Erica thought, she would have a pair of contact lenses to match every one of her new outfits. She couldn’t wait to tell Charmaine. Her sister would probably laugh her head off at Erica’s new look, but Erica didn’t care. She was having fun for once in her life, and she wasn’t about to quit now.

  ERICA REPORTED to the stable early for her trail ride and found Hank saddling Melba, who swiveled her head and regarded Erica with mild interest. Erica blinked, astonished that her new contact lenses—the blue ones—didn’t blur her vision. If anything, she could see better, which, when looking at Hank, was a plus.

  He still wore the long-sleeved red shirt, Western-style, from the morning. He also wore a big smile, aimed at her.

  “How’s it going?” he said.

  She adopted his laconic manner of speech. “Can’t complain.”

  He tightened the saddle cinch, and Erica reacquainted herself with Melba. Now that her eyes were adjusting to being inside the cool shadowy stable, she could see some of the names of the other horses on their stalls. Tango, said one. Sebastian, said another, and right next to that, Dimity. There were also stalls for Stilts and Twiggy and Shawnee.

  The horse named Sebastian was in his stall, and because she recalled Hank’s telling Justine that Sebastian was the bane of his existence, she moved closer for a better look. He was a handsome horse, square-jawed and maybe fifteen and a half hands high.

  “What a gorgeous animal,” she murmured almost to herself. Sebastian had a glossy coat and a long black mane. His only marking was a diamond-shaped white patch that was almost covered by his forelock.

  “He’s a four-year-old stallion and a lot to handle,” Hank said.

  Taking note of the way Sebastian nosed over the top of his stall toward Hank, Erica said, “He seems to like you.”

  “He was trained correctly early on, but for some reason, now he bites. He bucks and even tries to scrape me off under low-hanging tree branches. But we’re getting along pretty well.” Hank stroked Sebastian’s velvet nose.

  “I’m glad someone gets along with that fool horse.”

  Erica turned as a rangy dark-haired man strode into the stable. He was wearing dusty jeans and worn boots, and his hat was pushed back on his head.

  “Erica, this is Cord McCall, the ranch manager. Cord, Erica is Justine’s friend.”

  Steady eyes met hers. “Glad to meet you. I hope you’re enjoying your stay.”

  “I’ve only been here a couple of days, but so far, it’s great.”

  “Good. Hank, I’ll be away tonight. I’d appreciate it if you’d make sure to tell the hands to ride out and check on those broodmares tomorrow morning if I’m not back in time.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Cord afforded Hank an abrupt nod, said, “Glad to meet you, ma’am,” and hurried out of the stable toward the ranch pickup.

  “Broodmares? You breed horses here?”

  “Some. That’s why Justine keeps Sebastian around. She thinks he’s good breeding stock.” Hank shrugged.

  “Cord doesn’t seem too friendly,” Erica said as they watched the pickup disappear down the road pulling a cloud of dust.

  “He wasn’t hired to be friendly to guests. He was hired to run the working end of the ranch and has a lot on his mind. Come on, if we’re going for a ride, we’d better be on our way, since Justine may tire of babysitting Kaylie earlier than she thinks.”

  She moved away from Sebastian’s stall and approached Melba. Hank cupped his hands for her foot, preparing to take her weight for as long as it took her to swing her other leg up and over the saddle. She inserted her foot in the place he had made for it, but before she could boost herself up into the saddle, Hank looked deep into her eyes. She had momentarily forgotten that she wore her new blue contact lenses, and she was unprepared for the expression of confusion that flitted across Hank’s strong features.

  When she was mounted and looked back down at him, he was staring at her openmouthed.

  “You look so…different,” he said.

  She had carefully contoured her eyes with shadow and eyeliner the way Tico had shown her. The subtle use of blush emphasized her cheekbones and gave her chin a more rounded look. She smiled, trying to pass the comment off as lightheartedly as she could. “That,” she said, “is the idea of a makeover, isn’t it?”

  He continued to look thoughtful. “I guess so,” he said, and then he went to tighten the girth on his own horse, a roan gelding that patiently waited near the opening to the corral. The horse shied a little when Hank started to mount him.

  “Steady, Whip,” Hank said, reining the horse around so that he could see her. “Give Melba a little nudge with your heels and a slight slap with the reins. That’s right. Now remember all you learned yesterday, and let’s just amble along out of the corral.” Hank looked brutally handsome in that moment.

  As he bent down to undo the gate latch, Erica admired the athletic precision of his movement, the sinewy hands, his concentration on his task. She was painfully aware that he had said she looked different. Not better. Only different.

  She certainly felt different. She felt…noticeable. And this time, she felt noticeable for her looks, not her brains. And she liked not wearing glasses. It was good not to have to keep pushing them higher on her nose. Without glasses to hide behind, she felt right out there with other people. With Hank.

  “The scenery around here is unexpected,” she said, taking in the purple hills, the snowcapped mountains beyond and the burnished blue sky overhead.

  “Unexpected?”

  “Remarkable.”

  “I suppose that’s a good way to describe it.”

  She wondered what he would have thought if he could read her mind, what his reaction would be if he knew she had set her sights on him from the time she’d first set eyes on him. She shot him a cautious look out of the corners of her eye, finding it odd that her vision was no longer partially obscured by the frames of her glasses.

  “I thought we’d edge along the outside of the ranch property,” he said as they passed between the rock pillars marking the entrance to Rancho Encantado. Above the pillars stretched a sign: RANCHO ENCANTADO, WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE.

  Do they? Erica wondered, then was distracted as they crossed a dirt road that led to an equipment barn, as well as employee quarters, holding pens and loading chutes necessary for a large working ranc
h. “That’s the original hacienda over there,” Hank said, angling his head in the direction of an old adobe structure in the distance. “We’ll stop by there on the way back so I can check on some things.”

  “Great. Where will we go now?”

  “We’ll be taking the path down to the wash, a little stream called Padre’s Creek. The priest lived near there when this was church land.”

  Erica wished that Melba would hurry up a bit, instead of ambling along with so little spirit. It would be more fun to trot along with the wind blowing in her newly coiffed hair. Melba, however, was placid and calm, determined to give her an easy ride.

  Hank continued to direct Erica with pointers about her riding, noting that she seemed to know instinctively how to handle the horse. Not, he admitted to himself, that Melba was that much of a horse. She was elderly and not inclined to be skittish even when ridden by the most nervous of new riders.

  They passed a hill and the abandoned borax mine, the remnants of its buildings overgrown with mesquite. After they had traversed the hill, a wide trail led them through a grove of cottonwoods, the land sloping gently down to a creek. In the branches overhead, a bird chattered, sounding very loud in the silence.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve paid any attention to nature,” Erica said in answer to Hank’s quizzical look. “In New York I never even go to the park.”

  “I see that you brought your camera.”

  “Yes, it’s a digital and I’m still learning how to use it. I used to be a pretty good nature photographer with my old camera, but this one’s so new I’m still in the experimental stages.”

  “Maybe I can help you get some good shots” was all he said. Later he took care to point out a hawk to her as it circled lazily overhead. She snapped its picture, checked it in the preview lens and liked what she saw.

  They heard the purling of the stream before they saw it. As they came around the two large boulders that hid it from view, Erica almost gasped. The little creek was beautiful and unspoiled, curving down from the golden hills and disappearing into a gorge in the distance. This stretch was shallow, with little pools in the rocks that lined the bank.

  Hank dismounted and so did she. Erica immediately regretted her haste, considering how much more pleasant it would have been to feel his arms circling her as she had yesterday.

  “I was going to help you down,” he said, a frown marring his features.

  “No need,” she said, giving a little laugh that sounded so false she was sure it wouldn’t fool him. Before he could comment, she tossed Melba’s reins into his outstretched hands and brushed past him, heading for the water. Her precipitous flight was one way to hide her confusion, to find privacy in which she could curse her own stupidity and regain her equilibrium.

  The path skirted the ruins of a building, its crumbled stone foundation overgrown with straggly weeds. Beside the path was a bronze plaque, and she stopped to read it.

  ON THIS SITE LIVED PADRE LUIS REYES DE SANTIAGO, WHO BUILT A SCHOOL AND A HOSPITAL IN THIS VALLEY IN 1876. FRIEND TO ALL, BENEFACTOR OF MANY, SERVANT OF GOD.

  “That’s all that’s left of his house,” Hank said as he came up behind her. “The timber from it was salvaged long ago.”

  “How about the school and the hospital?”

  “Gone. The hospital stood where the guest quarters are, probably very close to Desert Rose. The school was near the Big House.”

  Erica ran a finger across the raised bronze letters of the plaque. “It’s sad to think that there’s nothing left of this man’s life work when he was apparently important to a lot of people.”

  She heard a rustle of wind among the tree branches, and a shiver rippled up her spine. It was disconcerting, that shiver, because the sun was warm today. Perhaps Hank felt it, too, because he looked around as if he expected to see someone behind him. But no one was there.

  If Hank thought anything was amiss, he gave no sign. “I know of a large flat rock where we can spread the food,” he said before continuing down the path.

  Erica followed him as she massaged the gooseflesh on her arms, still wondering about that shiver. When she joined Hank at the edge of the creek, he was sitting on a boulder and pulling containers of food out of a saddlebag.

  She sat down beside him on rocks warm with sunshine. As the gooseflesh faded, it seemed to her that the rocks throbbed with the beat of the earth—its heart perhaps? A silly notion, but she reminded herself that this place was supposed to be a vortex, a site where the earth’s energy was said to activate and energize.

  “Hungry?” Hank asked.

  “Sure.”

  He set out a pile of sandwiches, fresh fruit and a plastic container labeled “dessert.” “This looks better than my usual fare. I usually make do with something from the freezer so I can spend more time with Kaylie.”

  This was a safe topic, one Erica felt she could pursue without betraying her tendency to have an out-of-body experience when she was around him. “Kaylie—what does she eat?”

  “Horrible-looking stuff out of a jar.” He laughed ruefully. “She laps it up, though.”

  “Does she feed herself?”

  He stared at her for a moment. His eyes were bracingly blue in the sunlight of late afternoon. “Well, no. She’s only seven months old. She can eat finger foods, like cookies, but she has to be fed.”

  “As in spoonful by spoonful?” Erica asked with a wry smile.

  “Exactly.”

  “That must take a lot of time.”

  “It does.” He handed her a sandwich. He could recall the days when he hadn’t realized how much work a baby was, but now that his days and nights were filled with baby this, baby that, he sometimes forgot that not everyone had this specialized knowledge. Even he, with his multiple college degrees in business and finance, had found the baby-care learning curve difficult.

  “I guess you know that I don’t know much about babies,” she said, unwrapping her sandwich. As she did so, her hair fell slightly forward over her face, softening her features, and he saw for the first time that her nose turned up pertly at the end. He hadn’t noticed that when she wore glasses.

  He leaned back against a rock. “There sure is a lot to learn,” he allowed before biting into a hearty ham-and-jalapeño cheese sandwich on sourdough bread.

  “I heard about what happened to Kaylie’s mother,” Erica ventured. “I’m sorry.”

  “How much do you know about the accident?” he asked abruptly.

  Erica looked him straight in the eye. He liked that, too.

  “That your ex-wife was coming home late and had an automobile accident. That she was on the way home from helping someone.”

  “That’s true. She was.” He paused for a moment, not knowing whether to pursue the topic, not sure Erica would be interested. She was gazing at him with interest, so he plunged ahead.

  “We’d been divorced for the better part of a year at the time. She worked here with Justine, who’d offered her a job when we split. Anne-Marie was a good person, but we couldn’t live together. I guess that was my fault.”

  “Usually it’s the fault of both people if a relationship doesn’t work out,” Erica said carefully.

  He grunted, knowing she was right. But it would be ungentlemanly, he thought, not to shoulder the blame for the failure of his marriage. The truth was, he and Anne-Marie never should have gotten married. It had taken only a matter of months for them to discover that they had little in common, and they’d both felt relief when they’d separated. And then, out of a misbegotten sense of obligation, they had decided to give the marriage one more try. It had been a fateful decision, but he didn’t regret it. For the first time he felt the need to explain his feelings to someone. To Erica, who was looking at him with a serious expression, one that encouraged him to open up.

  He drew a deep breath. “Kaylie is the result of an attempted reconciliation between Anne-Marie and me. Neither one of us expected to make a baby, and…well, I can’t say I was happy to learn
Anne-Marie was pregnant. But when I saw my daughter for the first time, I was out-and-out crazy about her.” He’d been overwhelmed with emotion the first time he’d seen Kaylie’s chubby little cheeks, her fuzz of pale hair. He considered his daughter the best thing that had ever happened to him, despite all the huge changes she’d brought to his life.

  “She’s a darling baby.” Erica didn’t want to pry, but she hoped Hank would go on talking. His face lit up when he spoke of his daughter, and he looked younger, more carefree. She wondered how old he was. Thirty-four? Thirty-five?

  He pushed an apple in her direction, and she caught it before it rolled off the rock. “I can’t imagine life without Kaylie,” he said truthfully. “She makes everything worthwhile.”

  “Working so hard, you mean?” She was studying him, her eyes so deep and solemn he could hardly glance away.

  His reminder to himself that the work he did now was not his normal job caught him up short. He couldn’t imagine how he was going to manage when he returned to his old life.

  “That and other things,” he said.

  “It must be lonely being a single father.”

  It was, but he’d never admitted it to anyone except himself. He shrugged, embarrassed.

  She looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s only that I’ve been questioning my own life since I’ve been here where things are so different from New York. When you’re caught up in a hectic whirlwind of activity, you don’t take time to think that there are options.” She bit into the apple, a pensive expression settling over her features.

  He would have liked to pursue the topic further. There were few people in the world with whom he felt comfortable talking about private matters, but this woman had quickly put him at ease with her disarming and total interest, as well as her quiet acceptance. He wanted to know more about her.

  “Do you like living in New York, Erica?”

  “It’s okay. I grew up in Rhode Island.”

  “The ranch is a real change for you then, isn’t it?” He could imagine her in the city somehow. She had a big-city polish, a big-city attitude.