Marrying My Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  “Except,” James said, waggling his brows at his wife, “these horses are used to a western saddle and not an English saddle. They use different types of bits, too.”

  “But I can help you with all of that,” Maud said. “There’s so many trails to ride! We’ll do as much as you want, Mom. Even pack a picnic lunch, if you want.”

  Martha smiled. “I would love to do that, Maud.”

  “There’s always something going on at the ranch. Never a dull moment.”

  “I like activity. Now, Steve, tell me. Is it possible to loan me an office while I’m out there visiting? I must be on the phone a lot when Wall Street is open.”

  “Of course. Lydia has a huge office, two phone lines, and all sorts of machines.”

  Pressing her hand to her heart, Martha breathed, “That’s so good to hear!”

  “What? You thought we lived so far out in the country there were no phone lines?” Steve said, and grinned.

  Touching her cheek, Martha said wryly, “You’re probably surprised I didn’t ask if you had the wheel invented out where you live.”

  Maud cracked up, slapping her hand on her thigh, seeing Steve and her dad roar with laughter. “I was wondering,” she giggled, giving Martha a laughter-filled look, “if you thought I was marrying a Neanderthal and we were still in the Stone Age.”

  “No, no,” Martha protested, joining the laughter. “Honest, I did not think that, Maud!”

  Rolling her eyes, Maud patted her arm. “It’s okay, Mom. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have the right clothes, shoes, and that phone lines are available to you! You won’t miss New York City at all.”

  Chapter Four

  June 15, 1970

  Martha sighed, giving her daughter a loving look of pride. “You look so beautiful in that wedding dress, Maud. It fits perfectly this time. Lydia put in those tucks and it just flows from your bodice down to the tulle skirt!”

  Maud smiled over at her mother, who stood with Lydia. Both of them had a pleased look in their eyes. She smoothed the white tulle nervously with her hands. “I just don’t like getting dressed up, but you’re right, I do feel pretty. More like a fairy princess.” And she did. The wedding was set for June twentieth at the Unity church just outside of town. Her parents had arrived a week earlier, now comfortable and like old friends with Sam and Lydia.

  It was a happy event, all around.

  Lydia had asked her years ago if she could make her a wedding gown, and invited Martha to help her. Not a seamstress, Martha employed a wonderful woman who created flower embroidery and then sewed it into the simple lace behind it for the top of the dress to the waist. Lydia had sewn the skirt and the separate parts together and today was the final fit. Maud felt humbled that they had done this for her. The wedding dress took on far more meaning than if she’d had her mother purchase one from a major Paris or Italian designer.

  Lydia moved forward and caressed her strands. “Your black hair has grown and with it barely touching your shoulders, it brings out the color in your cheeks as well as making the dress come alive.” She touched the shoulder of the dress here and there, making sure the fit was perfect. And it was.

  “That’s nice to know.” She pointed to her shoes. “I like the low white heels I’m going to be wearing,” she said.

  “You’ll be more comfortable,” Martha agreed. “And no one is really going to see how high or low your heels are anyway because the dress is designed to barely wisp along the floor.”

  Lydia picked up the white headband that would fit across the top of Maud’s hair. “Martha, I just love that you chose our Mule’s-ear yellow daises to cover the headband.”

  Martha nodded. “My daughter loves nature. She adores wildflowers. These huge yellow daisies will be blooming through their date for the wedding. I think it’s a nice touch to honor where she’s going to live for the rest of her life.”

  Maud heard a nearly veiled sadness in her mother’s voice. She was trying so hard to be positive about her living on the ranch and not in New York City. At twenty-four years old, she was now a far more mature woman than when she first went to college at eighteen. She and Steve had grown even closer over the years as they lived together in their apartment near the universities. Their visiting schedule worked well for both their families. Best of all? Her father, James, got along swimmingly with Sam. And her mother, Martha, adored Lydia. They were both strong-willed businesswomen and admired and respected each other. Over the years and the visits, Martha had come to understand Maud’s desire to become a ranch woman and not a hedge fund owner.

  “When Steve sees you coming down the aisle of the church,” Martha said, her voice rising with emotion, “he’s going to think you are a dream. That dress makes you look ethereal, Maud, like a dream coming to life in our world. Truly.”

  Feeling heat steal into her cheeks, Maud nervously patted the tulle fabric over her hips. “I just never got comfortable with high fashion, Mom.”

  “It’s all right. This is your day.” She beamed, coming over and giving her a peck on the cheek, her way of trying to make her daughter feel calmer about the wedding. She smoothed the embroidery of flowers in the lace across her shoulder and down the sleeves. “I love that the flowers are across the bodice.”

  “Me too,” Maud said, touching the white embroidery on her other sleeve. “I’m wearing nature.”

  Martha held her luminous gaze. “Steve already knows how lucky he is to love you and you love him.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand. “You two are truly made for each other.”

  Lydia came over to stand on the other side of Maud. “And just think, after your honeymoon in Hawaii and you come home to the ranch? You’ll begin your PhD in learning how to run this place.”

  “I’m really looking forward to that,” Maud said, eagerness in her tone.

  “And Steve, because he won several architectural awards over the past two years for these ecological designs,” Lydia said proudly, “he’s already got five jobs overseas confirmed and lined up. My son is going to be busy.”

  “And gone a lot,” Maud said, frowning.

  “But he has to establish his name,” Martha soothed. “The first couple of years will be rough on both of you. As Steve’s type of revolutionary designs becomes known, and James and I are going to help him in that regard, he will be able to spend more and more time here at the ranch with you. And one day, sooner, not later, he’ll be home all the time and able to coordinate his designs around the world. He’s already famous! Everyone wants him.”

  Maud rallied. “I’ve gotten so used to him being in my life that it’s kind of a jolt to realize we’ll be spending more time apart for two years than together.”

  Lydia patted her shoulder. “You’ll be so busy from dawn to dusk that you’ll fall into bed, dead to the world every night, Maud. Ranching life is hard, physical, everyday work.”

  “You’re right,” Maud said. “And I love being physical and active. I’m so looking forward to you and Sam helping me learn how to run your ranch on a full-time basis.”

  Martha smiled. “Another PhD, for sure. Armed with your MBA, Maud, Lydia and I will be there to help you complete your business plan for the ranch and this gorgeous valley.”

  “So?” Maud teased her mother, who was dressed in pink slacks and a short-sleeved silk blouse, “you’ve fallen in love with western Wyoming?”

  “I have,” Martha admitted ruefully. “The last four years of coming out here for weeks at a time during the summer have convinced me this is a little slice of heaven.”

  Giving a sharp laugh, Lydia added, “You won’t be saying that about the nine months of winter we get here, Martha. You’ve visited only when it’s warm and sunny.”

  “True,” Martha groused good-naturedly. “New York City isn’t much more fun in winter, either.”

  “That’s why you and Dad always winter in Florida at your penthouse in Miami.”

  “Yes,” Martha said, “guilty as charged. I don’t care for snow at all.
”

  “That’s why I sew during the winter months,” Lydia said. “There’s not a whole lot to do outdoors. The ranch work slows down, but in the barns and hay mows, it doesn’t. We get all our tack equipment cleaned up, repaired, or replaced at that time. We do indoor repairs to all the buildings, too. Replacing a roof or painting the outside of our buildings has to be done in that three months of summer.”

  “A lot of continuous work,” Martha agreed, giving her daughter a concerned look.

  Maud held out her long, spare hands. “When you see us next summer, Mom, I’m sure I’ll have calloused palms and my hands will be stronger and maybe a little rougher feeling to you.”

  Martha picked up her daughter’s hand. “No fingernail polish, either.”

  Laughing, Maud hugged her mother. “You know I’ve never been into makeup or nail polish.”

  Glumly, Martha nodded. “You’ve always been a tomboy, Maud. I agree with James: You take after his side of the family.”

  “But I’m happy out here, Mom. And I love Steve with my heart and soul. We’re looking forward to this new chapter in our lives. And I know you will be the lead cheerleader for us.”

  Perking up, Martha smoothed some of the tulle at her waist. “That’s very, very true.”

  “Besides,” Lydia put in, “having two women with MBAs in our expanding family can only help our ranch grow, make more money, and then, Maud can make her business plan for the valley, and making it start taking shape for the people who live here.”

  “Absolutely,” Martha said, giving Maud a smile. “Start a charity out here, too?”

  “Oh, that’s already in the works,” Maud promised, turning around, asking her mother to unbutton the wedding dress. “There’s a lot of Vietnam vets coming home and they’ve got battle fatigue. They can’t hold a job and they need help. I was talking with the Becker family in town, who owns the hay and feed store, about that. The first thing I’m going to do is create a soup kitchen and food pantry for the town, Mom.”

  “Good to hear. Tell me how we can help. We can put your charity on our yearly list.”

  “That’s all I need to know,” Maud said, slipping out of the gown, standing barefoot in a long silk slip. Lydia took the dress and hung it up, smoothing it out and then placing a garment bag over it so it couldn’t be seen if Steve accidentally walked in. Grooms were not meant to see the dress until the bride walked down the aisle.

  Shimmying out of the slip, Maud got rid of the hated bra that she never wore under any circumstances and dropped it with utter disgust on the couch. Martha handed her a bright red short-sleeved T-shirt and she pulled it on. She was not big breasted, just the opposite. She had hated it when her mother urged her to put on her first bra at twelve years old. She cried. It felt like a cinch around her upper chest, and she saw no reason to wear that awful contraption. She’d had to wear it in high school but just as soon as she escaped to college, Maud got rid of the bra permanently. Except for this wedding.

  Giving the bra a dark look, she grabbed her jeans and sat down, pulling on a well-worn pair of cowboy boots that Steve had bought for her four years earlier. These boots were old friends and comfortable to wear, despite all the dings and scraps across the cow leather.

  “There,” Maud said, standing and smoothing her jeans into place over her long, curved thighs, and then running her fingers through her hair, quickly capturing it into a ponytail. She knew her mother wasn’t crazy about her ranching clothes, but she loved them. “It’s almost noon. Let’s go have lunch in the kitchen. Maybe Dad and Steve can join us.”

  Brightening, Martha nodded. “Sounds like a good idea!” She slipped her arm around Maud’s and they walked to the door, opening it. Lydia followed behind them. Joy flowed through Maud’s heart as the three of them walked down the oak hall toward the central area of the huge log cabin. She missed seeing Steve, but she knew he was out with his dad and wranglers, building another huge buffalo corral, which took a lot of male muscle and at least half a dozen of them working on it during daylight hours. Would they be coming in for lunch? She hoped so.

  * * *

  Steve held Maud’s hand as they slowly walked down a well-used dirt trail that would lead them to the red barn where they routinely met for some alone time with each other. He’d come back midafternoon and he’d found Maud in her room, her business plan spread out across the queen-size bed. He’d gotten a quick shower then, wishing she was with him but knowing it was impossible under the circumstances until they got married.

  “How did the last fitting on Mom’s wedding dress go for you?”

  Maud smiled softly. “Your mom is amazing. She put two small darts in at the waist and it fits so comfortably. I’m ready to marry you now.”

  He winked at her. “Good to know, Tonto.”

  She giggled. “Right, Kemosabe.” Early on in their relationship she referred to Steve as the Lone Ranger, the 1950s TV cowboy hero who wore a black mask and his sidekick was an Indian named Tonto. And she was happy to be his sidekick. The Lone Ranger went around protecting good people from bad people. She saw Steve in the same way. He had soared with his architectural degree.

  Many architectural firms were interested in his award-winning low-cost housing for people who could not afford homes that were more expensive. They wanted him to do that, but also to turn his creative and innovative eye to building billion-dollar skyscrapers, as well.

  Turning them all down because that was not his vision, he proceeded to create his own company and since then, had so many jobs lined up that she knew she wouldn’t see him but four times a year, a month each time. All the work was going to be in different African countries, and he loved that continent. And she wouldn’t be able to leave the ranch to join him. A ranch was a full-time job, just like his. In her eyes, he truly was the LONE Ranger, going out to rescue impoverished people, protect them from the baddies of the world, and give them a roof over their head for the first time in their lives. She was so proud of Steve and loved him fiercely for his compassion and humanity toward those who had so little. He was her hero.

  “Do you like how the dress fits you now?” he asked, and he cocked his head, holding her gaze as they walked, brushing each other’s elbows.

  “I love it. I was just thinking earlier that the top of the dress was created by my mother’s seamstress, at her direction. And Lydia, being a seamstress herself, put it all together and created the lower two-thirds of it. That dress means so much more to me because they both worked on it, a team mission, for me . . . for us. It’s better than Mom’s original idea to employ Chanel to create a wedding dress for me. My mother is great at carrying off and wearing clothing by the best designers in the world, but I couldn’t handle the thousands of dollars that would be spent on such a dress that would be worn only once. I told her at the time I’d rather see that money go to a charity instead. She grudgingly agreed.”

  “Well, the times you’ve worn a dress or skirt and blouse, you looked pretty to me.” He grinned. “However? You can wear nothing at all and you look dynamite, too.”

  Heat crawled into her cheeks. Steve was raised with rough and tumble, highly independent wranglers, his language salty and reflecting that environment that he grew up in. She’d never heard her mother or father curse—ever. And it was expected a young lady would never speak such epithets, either. “You’d think after all these years, I’d get over your bald language,” she teased, laughing and pointing to her reddened cheeks.

  Giving her an apologetic look, he said, “I can’t help myself, Maud. You are a looker, no question about it. And you can’t hide that great bod of yours no matter what you do or don’t wear.”

  They walked into the coolness of the shadowy barn. Taking the ladder, they climbed up to the second floor where the hay and straw bales were kept. Having a favorite seat, they sat down opposite the opening. As always, they kept their voices low as they spoke to each other.

  “Just think,” Steve said, giving her an evil grin, “four days from
now? We won’t have to do this anymore. It will be okay if we live and sleep together.”

  “That will be nice.”

  He looked around the cavernous barn, the scent of alfalfa and the sweet, dried timothy hay surrounding them. “Still, this is a nice place to be at times.”

  “Yes.” She snuggled beneath his arm, resting her cheek on his shoulder, her hand resting over his heart. “I’m going to miss you, Steve. I know you need to go, but I will miss you terribly.”

  He squeezed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “No more than I’ll miss you.”

  She caressed his upper chest beneath the denim of his wrangler’s shirt. “We’ll have phone calls. That will help.”

  “You’re going to be so busy you won’t miss me,” he said, and he chuckled.

  “That’s not true!” And she slapped his chest playfully, lifting her chin, meeting his dancing, laughter-filled eyes. “Snot.”

  “Yeah, I do tease you unmercifully,” he admitted, giving her a look of semi-apology. “I’ll be as busy as you. Out in the field, at the sites where the construction is going to take place, I won’t be able to talk with you. Once I get back to a major city, I can.”

  “Do you think after these first two years that you can stay home? I know you have to get everything in order. But after that? Maybe it can be managed from a distance?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. I’ll be working with local construction companies and after they get the hang of things, I can hire a construction manager from the area to do the heavy lifting so I can fly home and live with you.”

  His words floated softly into the silence surrounding them. Below, Steve could hear the snort of horses from the stables on the first floor. Someone was walking a horse into the barn, the hooves clip-clopping echoes on the concrete aisle area wafting upward to where they sat. “I’m going to miss you and I’m going to miss my parents and Wyoming.”