“It’s all making a contribution. We all try to respect what matters to us. To each of us.”
“What matters to you?” The brothers might indulge Keegan’s desire to write. They might value Orion’s botanical experimentation, especially since it was meant to protect the Bluff’s future. In what way did they indulge Tag? Liberty thought that the very significant weight of responsibility for the Chimney Bluff fell on his shoulders.
His gaze held hers. He knew what she was insinuating, and he didn’t see it as a burden. “The ranch,” he said simply. “The land. To be, like Ry says, a good steward. To have my woman on it. Raise our children on it. I’d do it all alone if I had to. If Keeg went off to New York City to write. If Ry went back to Laramie to study or teach. I’d still have exactly what I want.”
“Though you want them to stay.”
“I do. It feels…better when…we’re together.”
“And you want…”
“You. Yeah. That’s the ‘my woman’ part. The ‘our children’ part.”
“You know this because now we’ve spent—what? A little more than a week together, all told?”
“You know when I knew. I knew just about the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Liberty shook her head. “Love at first sight? What does that mean? That you liked, what? The way I looked? The clothes I wore? You can’t know what matters about a person based on those things. The…superficial. The external.”
He leaned forward. “All right, I liked the superficial. You were the hottest thing in that stupid nightclub, and, yeah, I noticed. But that wasn’t all I saw. I saw your smile and how you used it to take the sting out every time you shot a guy down. I saw how you watched your friends, looked out for them. How you told them to text you that they were safe. How you took their texts, even when you were sitting across a table from me, because I was a stranger and they were important to you. I liked what I saw, and then I liked what I learned. What I keep learning. Every bit of you, everything I learn about you just confirms my first impression. Which was right, goddammit. Except—”
He sat back and took a breath, looking away from her for the first time.
“Except?”
“Except you’re damn stubborn.”
“Because I didn’t accept your proposal that was made mid…fuck on the fourth day you knew me?”
“Yes.” He huffed that out in frustration and made her laugh. But she sobered at the look he shot her.
“Maybe it wasn’t the prettiest proposal ever,” he said to her. “But there was never one more meant. More serious.” Now she took a deep breath and had to put a little effort into maintaining her gaze. “More of a promise. More…an offer to share a life. My life.”
She nodded. “Yes. Oddly enough, I believe that, Tag.”
“Do you need pretty?”
“No, I don’t.” She’d had it once, and it hadn’t meant at all what Tag had just described. She put her hand out, because he’d taken his away when he’d sat back. When he returned it to hers, she gave it a squeeze. “But I think I do need some more time. We talked about me coming for the summer.”
“When do you commit to a contract for next year?”
“Next week, after spring break. But it’s more or less acceptable to back out as late as the end of July. So, how about we give the summer a try?”
“You’ll sign the contract?” He didn’t hide his disgruntlement about that.
“Yes,” she said. “Because I’m a single, responsible woman. An adult person. Because I should think about my future, take care of it myself. Not rely on a man, on the relationships I might form, to take care of me. Not rely on…hope that it will all work out. Did you see that when you first laid eyes on me?”
“Well, I’m getting it now, aren’t I?”
So he could get grumpy after all. She smiled—maybe it was that smile that had the power to take the sting out. But she could give him this, and she should, because…he had given it to her. The words that mattered, even if they weren’t everything. She bent their elbows and lifted their hands up, kissed his fingers. “You told me you love me. I had my doubts when you first said it, but I believe you now. And I think I love you, too. Is that good enough for this moment?”
“It’s good,” he said. “And enough, if it’s the best you can do. If you’ll come for the summer. If you’ll think about what you heard from Kurt.”
“I think it is,” she told him. “And, I will.”
He didn’t let go of her hand. He just held it hard, like the man he was, like the purpose he had, not letting go. He leaned over the table and kissed her. Kept kissing, even as that wasn’t enough. As he stood and brought her up, too. So there wasn’t the table between them. So there was nothing between them, not even molecules of air when he wrapped his arm around her and held her close.
Chapter Seven
Tag didn’t mind taking chances. Life lived as a rancher was nothing but a gamble. Every year, every month, every week, he and his brothers made decisions whose outcomes rested on things they couldn’t control—the weather, the market, the appetite folks they didn’t know had for consuming bison meat, and the damn animals themselves.
“You can’t get a buffalo to do what it doesn’t want to do.” He’d heard seven different ranchers say that when he’d first taken seriously Ry’s enthusiasm for species diversity and sustainability. He hadn’t gone into it blind, but had visited successful bison ranches, learned what he was getting into.
Let them be who they are, he’d been told. Give them what makes them happy.
Now, he had to replace the word “buffalo” with a woman and a name—Liberty.
Different critter, same concept, he figured, though he didn’t plan to share that thought with her.
He’d learned her name wasn’t just incidental. Not the odd quirk of the otherwise quite straight arrows he understood her parents were.
She was named for a distant grandmother, a great-great, who’d been born on the plains. A woman whose parents had left western North Carolina when the War Between the States threatened their way of life, required a choice between sides they weren’t willing to make. So they’d traveled by train and then covered wagon to the prairies of what was now eastern Colorado.
And when they’d had a girl child, they’d named her Liberty. When her brother was born, his name was Independence.
Tag wondered how much those parents had indulged their daughter, or encouraged her, even, to determine her own life course. To make her own choices, travel her own path. He knew, at least, because his Liberty had been told the story and shared it proudly, that the first Liberty’s mother had, as a small child, traveled with her mother to the first Women’s Rights Convention in Seneca Falls in 1848.
It wasn’t just a name, apparently, but the genetic makeup of his woman that made her what she was—independent, determined, brimming with strength.
The force was strong in this one, he thought, almost able to see the humor.
They were qualities he’d appreciate most days of his life, he was sure. Most but not all, and not this one.
Because he was taking a chance.
Which he didn’t mind doing, because that was how his life went. But he liked to have as much control over the outcome as possible, and he hadn’t quite gotten there yet.
Because of those qualities…independence, determination, strength.
Earlier, after their lunch in town, after he’d gotten from Liberty as much of a commitment as she was going to make, after he’d gotten the words out of her, even if they included an “I think,” after he’d kissed her right there in the diner to the great entertainment of the old gals who were the waitresses and cooks, including one of them not so old whom he’d dated a few times—after all that, in the truck on the way home, he’d told her he wanted her to go with him on Friday to Salt Lake. That out that way, near Heber City, were a mare and a new colt he’d purchased and needed to fetch back to the Bluff. That she could ride shotgun and see some more of
Wyoming country. That they could take an evening in the city, have a nice dinner, see a show, and maybe dance a little, then drive the pair home on Saturday. Which would be their last full day together.
Which he was giving up, and taking a hell of a chance in it.
He walked from his office into the living room, where Lib was at the piano, so pretty in the late afternoon light. He held his phone in his hand, fake evidence that he’d just taken a call.
She looked up at him and scooted over on the bench when he made to sit next to her.
“Got a problem,” he said. He kissed her and put his arm around her.
“What is it?”
“There’s an ag committee hearing in Cheyenne tomorrow afternoon. The state legislature. On the issue of ranchers and riparian rights. I committed to speak at it a few weeks ago. It was supposed to be Monday or Tuesday next week. But they moved it up.”
“Oh,” she said. “Can you make your trip to Utah later?”
“Probably not,” he said, trying to sound regretful. Actually feeling regretful, in fact. “The rancher there is selling out. We chose this date late already, so the colt would be old enough to travel.”
“So…Orion. Or Keegan?”
“Yeah. Or, no, not Orion. He’s leaving for Laramie tonight, guest-teaching a class in the morning. I’ll send Keegan, but…”
She kept her gaze on him, waiting with an innocence that made him feel guilty.
“I wondered if…you’d be willing to go with him.”
Liberty tilted her head. “Because…”
“I’d just feel better. I know he’s not a kid…”
She looked amused, maybe indulgent, and he thought he had her. “He’s a year older than I am,” she pointed out.
“I know,” he said quickly. “It’s just…”
“It’s hard to stop being a big brother?”
“Stupid, I know.” He looked away, down at the piano keys.
Nudging her shoulder into him, she leaned into his gaze. “Of course I’ll go, if that’s what you want. I’ll miss the time with you, though.”
He nodded and rubbed a knuckle under her chin. “I will, too. I really will. It’s just…bad timing.”
With a kiss, he managed to avoid eye contact, which was getting a little difficult. “Can I…can I tell him I want you to go because I promised you a night out, and I don’t want to renege? Don’t want to have you stuck on the ranch this whole week, like that was all there was?”
He felt her chuckle against his chest before she spoke. “You do remember Keegan is twenty-eight? And I’m twenty-seven? We’re both all grown up?”
“I do,” he said, and smiled wryly. “This isn’t always easy.” And that little play for sympathy made him feel like a real toad.
He tried another kiss. “We’ll have to make the most of tonight. And I want you back home early on Saturday. I’ll be your wake-up call. Get you both up bright and early. Get you back on the road.”
“Deal,” she said. She said it into the kiss. Like she said all of her next words. Because he was starting to make the most of this night they had together right that minute.
* * * *
“Meet me in the lobby in two hours?” Keegan asked. He’d carried her bag into the room Tag had obviously arranged for the date he’d meant to have with his woman. It was pretty plush, with a king bed, hot tub, balcony, and great views of the capitol and temple and mountains.
There was another room, two floors down, not quite so plush, a more recent reservation, for him.
Liberty nodded, though she tried protesting one more time. “It really isn’t necessary, though. I’d be fine with…whatever. Room service, or a quick dinner in the hotel restaurant. We don’t have to make a big night of it.”
Keegan wasn’t entirely sure what Tag was up to, but he was clear about this. “Tag made the arrangements already. I’m pretty sure he’ll have my head if I don’t at least make an effort to show you a good time. Plus, you can’t say no to Hamilton, right?”
She smiled. Of course she couldn’t. And the fact was, whether she’d admit it or not, Keegan was a better date for the event at Eccles Theater than Tag would have been. She didn’t have to admit it because it went without saying. No, she was balking at dinner at Log Haven, one of Salt Lake’s high-end, better restaurants. The one sitting on pretty land up a canyon in the Wasatch Forest. The one that made everyone’s list for the area’s most romantic restaurants.
And she didn’t even know there was a limo reserved to take them there.
The truth was, she’d been obviously uncomfortable about the whole deal. From the first hour of the drive and every one since.
Tag had knocked on his door the evening before. Keegan had just finished showering off an afternoon of riding the fence.
It was a daily chore. More than once, a challenge between buffalo bulls had caused damage, and Chimney Bluff neighbors didn’t take kindly to finding stray bison on their land. It was a hell of a job getting the critters—stupid and wily at the same time—back where they belonged.
Plus, the brothers had to keep an eye out for wild animals that might be injured along the fence. Pronghorns tended to travel in small groups, and their natural defense was always to run first, then stop and look. Since they didn’t look first, there’d been a couple occasions when some threat or just a startle had sent one of the antelopes headfirst into the fence. Then, too, the guys found an elk bull grazing on their land every once in a while, obviously having come over the fence. They figured someday there’d be one that didn’t clear it.
Injured animals attracted wolves or even bears or mountain lions, and those predators made bison uneasy. Mothers of young calves were especially nervous and got more dangerous if they perceived a threat. The Harpers had learned it was best to keep their livestock feeling safe and happy.
Anyway, Keegan had come in after an uneventful ride, seen that Tag’s pickup was back, and was looking forward to hearing what Liberty had learned from Kurt Wheaton. He knew Liberty meant a lot to Tag, and Keegan was half in love with her himself. He was hoping Kurt had something for her that would add to the appeal of a move to the ranch.
She’d obviously been working at the piano, and it looked like she’d been interrupted. Lib used her laptop and a composition program, even as she tinkered out her basic score and lyrics on the piano. Right now, her laptop was open, screen saver up, and her afternoon cup of tea was carefully set on a side table. Food and drinks, he’d learned her very first day there, were not allowed near the Steinway. But neither Tag nor Lib was in sight. The door to Tag’s suite was closed, so there was an obvious assumption to be made about where and what that interruption had led to. The pair didn’t come out even for dinner, so Keegan ate alone. Orion had left a pot of chili with fixings, along with a note saying he’d left for Laramie in time to meet up with some friends out there.
Keegan was a little disappointed. He’d enjoyed the evenings he and Liberty had spent at the piano, and he knew that Tag was planning to take her to Salt Lake overnight on Friday. He was sorry to miss both evenings in her company.
Then Tag had come by his room and relayed a change in plans.
Keegan had barely bought his brother’s reasoning. Sure, Keegan could pick up the mare and colt Tag had purchased and transport them back to the Bluff. Sure, he could take Liberty along.
But why would Tag want him to? Tag could testify in Cheyenne and still be back to spend the night with her. Or even take her with him. They could have an evening out there, right?
Tag had the tickets to Hamilton, though, and he wanted Liberty to see it. Keeg would want to see it, too, wouldn’t he?
Yeah, he would. Sure he would.
And he liked Liberty well enough, didn’t he?
Yeah, sure. He surely did. Which…pretty much left Keegan scratching his head, wondering why Mr. Possessive was foisting his girl off on another man. Keeg might be his brother, but he was still…a man, wasn’t he? He was pretty sure Tag knew that.
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In the morning, Tag and Liberty had coffee and breakfast sandwiches already made by the time Keegan got to the kitchen. He ate with them, then went out to hitch up the horse trailer. When he pulled up outside the house, Tag walked Liberty out, her little travel bag on his shoulder. Inside the fence, he held her, exchanged some weighty-appearing words, and kissed her good-bye. Keegan got out to take the bag and stuff it in the back of the truck while Tag helped Liberty hop in. And kissed her good-bye some more.
Then the big brother walked the little brother around the back of the trailer, no doubt thinking he ought to double-check the hitch-up, because…that was who he was. But Tag stopped Keegan there, at the rear end of the trailer, with a hand on his shoulder.
“Treat her right, Keeg,” he said, like it needed saying. And then—“Give her what she wants.”
Keegan was having a little trouble reading that message, underscored as it was by the seriousness in those dark eyes. “Sure, man.”
“I want you to be happy. You’re my brother and I’ll love you no matter what. You know that, right? No matter what happens.”
“Uh…sure?” Keegan knew Tag, knew the man he was, and surely he wasn’t saying what Keeg thought he was hearing.
“Tonight,” Tag went on, “if the moment comes up, I want you to remember what I said. And, if it does, you ask Lib what the last thing I said to her was.”
“What the hell moment are you talking about, bro?”
“You’ll know.” Tag thudded him a good one on the shoulder, finally seeming more himself with the act. “Just take good care of her.”
So, yeah…that happened.
Keegan had climbed into the truck. Carefully, he kept his eyes on the business of firing up the engine and pulling out of the yard—during which time, he was very aware that Tag stood to the side, gaze on the two occupants of the truck’s cab.
Both of whom stayed entirely silent.
Exiting the ranch safely involved a little ritual the brothers had developed by trial and error. Though bison were herd animals and could mostly be relied upon to stick together, the young bulls who hadn’t established their place yet sometimes grazed on their own. And, every year, a couple of them seemed determined to make a live-free-or-die dash for the gate.
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