While she went to fetch Nugget, he stepped into the tack room and pulled two sets of saddlebags from the top shelf. Had to dust them off.
They hadn’t had much use since Ed had cut back to one wrangler. Prior to that he and the other hands had made a weekly thing of cowboy cookouts. Sort of like the Buckskin Brotherhood gatherings around the fire pit behind the bunkhouse.
He hadn’t been out to this meadow in —geez — a couple of years? What if the fire pit stones had been scattered? The fire pit was near Crooked Creek, the same one that ran through Buckskin land. It could have flooded that meadow since the last time he’d ridden out that way.
Too late to do anything about it, now. He began loading the bags.
“Those look way cool.”
He glanced up. Val had come in for Nugget’s tack. “They are way cool.”
“Love the fringe. I’ve seen things like that in the movies.”
“You might’ve seen these very saddlebags in the movies. Originally they were props, likely handled by some of the big stars. Ed was in the right place at the right time when the studio put them up for sale.”
“They look like they should be in a museum.” She hung Nugget’s bridle on the saddle and picked it up, along with the blanket and pad.
“Ed’s not much for putting good equipment in a museum.” He tucked the wrapped T-bones in carefully. “I’m glad we’re doing this. Tomorrow morning I’ll give these some oil and get the tarnish off the silver.”
She paused in the doorway. “Can I help?”
“Aren’t you and my mom going into town to work on your classroom?”
“Oh, right.”
“Want me to hold off until you come back?”
“No, that’s okay. You probably want to get it—”
“I’ll wait.”
She smiled. “Thanks.” She left, looking for all the world like a seasoned cowgirl as she handled that tack. Whether she was here or at the Buckskin, she’d taken to ranch life as if she’d been born to it.
Not to make excuses for himself, but his proposal in June hadn’t come out of nowhere. His house, this ranch, hell, even he fit her like a glove. He’d cut to the chase for a reason. When something was perfect, why waste time?
Chapter Twenty-Six
The trail, wide enough for two horses, looked familiar. Val glanced over at Teague. “Is this the same one we went on before?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nudged Silver into a trot. “Thought we’d take it a little faster this time since we’re going about three times as far.”
“Fine with me.” She settled in, matching her motion to the horse’s strides. “I thought Nugget had a rough trot. Turns out the roughness was all on my side.”
“You’ve come a long way.”
“It’s been fun. I was so afraid I’d be bad at this.”
“Instead you have a natural talent for it.”
“Who knew?”
“Ready to kick it up a notch?”
“You bet.”
He made a clucking sound with his tongue and Silver surged forward into a canter.
Nugget followed Silver’s lead, skimming along the ground, his white mane rippling in the breeze, his golden coat glowing in the last rays of the setting sun. His hoofbeats matched Silver’s cadence, as if they were dancing.
Beside her, Teague rode with a fluid grace she had yet to achieve, a broad-shouldered hero on a white horse. He looked over and smiled.
As if a shutter clicked, her heart captured the beautiful moment. No matter what happened between her and Teague, she’d have this precious memory. She’d be forever grateful for that.
He faced forward again. “Better slow it down as we head into the trees.” He eased back on the reins and brought Silver down to a trot and then a walk.
“It’s amazing how different this ride feels from the one back in June. I thought we went quite far, but we didn’t even make it to the trees.”
“We walked them most of the way. You don’t get far when you amble along. We only trotted a little bit.”
She laughed. “Because it hurt like hell!”
“I seem to remember you complaining a lot.”
“I seem to remember you soothing me after we got back with some well-placed kisses.”
His teeth flashed. “Think you’ll need more soothing after this ride?”
“Count on it.”
“Greenhorns. Gotta love ’em.”
She surveyed the trail ahead. Trees and more trees. “Are we there yet?”
He chuckled. “No.”
“Can you ride and play your harmonica at the same time?”
“Sure, as long as we’re walking them. Silver knows the way.”
“It would be very atmospheric if you played your harmonica while we saunter along. It would be like a singing cowboy movie.”
“Minus the singing.”
“If I know the song, I’ll sing.”
“Do you know Red River Valley?”
“I do! I teach it to my kids every year. It’s a fascinating song.”
“Because it’s about a woman who’s breaking a cowboy’s heart to bits?”
“Oh, but it’s not that simple. There’s another version in which it’s a girl whose heart is breaking to bits.”
“But it’s sung by a cowboy who doesn’t want a woman to leave.”
“In the most current one, yes, but the song’s been around a long time. There’s lots of info and scholarly debate connected to Red River Valley.”
“But either way, someone’s leaving someone else.”
“Maybe not by choice, though. It could be circumstances. We can’t assume the intention is to break someone’s heart to bits.”
“I suppose not.” Looping the reins around the saddle horn, he unsnapped his shirt pocket, pulled out a shiny silver harmonica and tapped it on his palm. “In any case, I’m just playing the tune. The words are your job. Ready?”
“Yes, I am. I’ll count you in.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Oh, will you, now?”
“I handle the music program at Apple Grove Elementary.”
“I see. This is more serious business than I thought. Let me warm up first.” Moistening his lips, he brought the harmonica to his mouth and played a quick scale.
Mm. His supple mouthing of the harmonica sent little arrows of awareness straight to her…
“You said you’d count me in?”
“Sorry. Got distracted by a bird in the trees.”
“What bird?”
“Never mind. On three. One, two, three.” She gestured to him.
The sweet notes that came out of that harmonica took her breath away.
He stopped playing. “Weren’t you going to sing?”
“Yes! That crazy bird again. Let’s start over.” She faced forward, away from his tempting self. “One, two, three.” She managed to sing the opening without making a complete fool of herself.
By the time she reached the chorus, her vocal cords were limbered up and her delivery improved. Then she was into it, letting the music flow through her. She was darned proud of how she finished up, holding the note almost as long as he did.
“Beautiful voice.”
She turned to look at him, adrenaline making her heart race. “Thanks. Beautiful job on the harmonica. Loved the vibrato at the end.”
His gaze held hers. “Thank you. I had no idea you could sing like that.”
“In normal life, people don’t usually burst into song like they do in musical theater.”
“Were you in musical theater?”
“In high school and college, but it wasn’t the career for me.”
“Why not?”
“It’s very tough to make a living on a consistent basis. I loved performing, but not enough to give my whole life to what could turn out to be a vagabond existence. Teaching elementary-age kids in this great little town is my dream job.”
He tucked the harmonica back in his pocket and picked up the reins. “I’m stun
ned that I’ve spent all this time with you and didn’t know about your singing.”
“Like I said, why would you?”
“Does anybody know?”
“My principal, Harland Kuhn. It was on my application, which is one of the reasons he hired me. He needed someone to handle the music program. They don’t have the budget to hire a music teacher.”
“Well, I’m really glad I brought the harmonica.”
“So am I. But I’m curious. What made you think of it?”
“A few years ago, one of the hands found out I played and talked me into taking my harmonica when we’d come out for our weekly cookout.”
“Now when do you play?”
“Sometimes while I’m sitting on the porch in the evening.”
“With nobody around to appreciate it?”
“There’s me. I like it.”
“Well, there you go. That’s something I completely understand, doing something for its own sake because it makes you happy. Even if nobody else is involved.”
“Do you sing in your house when you’re all by yourself?”
“Now that you mention it.” She stared at the trail ahead. She didn’t admit that to most people. To any people, to be precise. “It’s one of the perks of living alone. I don’t have to consider whether it would bother anybody.”
“It wouldn’t bother me if you sang while I’m around. I’d like it.”
“I’d like it if you’d play your harmonica when I’m around. You sound great.”
“I will if you will.”
“It’s a deal.” She smiled. Would they follow through? Maybe not, but the possibility intrigued her. “Hey, are we there yet?”
“About two more minutes.”
“How will I know?”
“First you’ll hear the water. Then the trail dead-ends at the meadow. You can’t go on without crossing the creek.”
“Is the water cold?”
“Very. It’s fed by snow melt.”
“I take it you’ve been in it?”
“Plenty of times, but always in the middle of the day when it’s hot. At night, it’s a great ice chest. We’ll stick a couple of bottles of apple cider in there to keep them cold.”
“I’ve always wanted to wade in a mountain creek. This is my chance.”
“If you fall in, your clothes will get wet.”
“I won’t fall in.”
“The rocks are slippery.”
“I’ll be careful. Do you want to?”
“Not this time of day. I don’t relish—”
“But we’re building a fire. You can dry your clothes by the fire.”
“A shirt, maybe. But jeans? Only if you keep the fire going all night. Even then the seams will still be damp.”
“Then I’ll roll mine up and be super careful. I hear the water! Tell you what, I’ll get my creek wading in first thing. Get it out of the way. Cross it off my list.”
“If you fall in, I’m not coming after you. You’ll have to get yourself out.”
“I won’t fall in.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Val fell in. Teague had seen it coming, but she’d been one determined lady.
She’d started her adventure after helping him hobble the horses and turn them out to graze. Together they’d spread out the quilt and laid the saddlebags on it.
He was supposed to be unpacking while she went wading, but he’d delayed while he’d kept his eye on her noisy progress into the water. She’d squealed at the icy temperature but she’d kept going. She’d wobbled once and regained her balance.
He’d fetched his rope.
She’d fallen on her tush in the middle of the creek. Every effort to right herself ended with her falling again, swearing a blue streak and heaping blame on herself for being stupid.
“You’re not stupid.” He uncoiled the rope as he approached the muddy bank of the creek. “Just inexperienced.”
“But you told me this was a bad idea. Did I listen? No, I knew better! And now I’m freezing my ass off, and my jeans won’t dry unless we keep the fire going all night, and we haven’t gathered firewood yet, and—”
“I’m going to toss you a loop. Tighten it around your waist. Then I’ll pull you out.”
“It’s more than I deserve.”
He ducked his head to hide a grin. Then he cleared his throat. “Want me to leave you there? I could put your steak on a plate and float it out to you.”
“I’d probably dump the plate over and a carefully grilled T-bone would be carried away on the current. Toss me the rope, please.”
Twirling the loop carefully, he judged the distance and sent it aloft. It settled down on the surface of the water, enclosing her perfectly. Bullseye.
“Teague, that was amazing!”
“Pick it up and tighten it around your waist before it gets too saturated to work right.”
“Doing it.” She followed his directions, as he gradually put more tension on the line. “Now what?”
“I’ll plant myself here.” He chose two large rocks and wedged his booted feet behind them. “Grab the rope in both hands. When it’s taut, slowly stand up.”
“Okay.” She scooted around to face him and clutched the rope.
“That’s good.” Hand over hand, he took the slack out. “Almost ready. There. Stand up slowly. Keep holding on and I’ll reel you in.”
“Like a fish.”
“A delectable fish.”
“I can’t believe I’ve screwed this up so royally.”
“Not really. You can check this off your list. That’s progress, right?”
“My jeans will never dry, just like you said.”
“What a pity. You’ll have to leave them off the rest of the night.”
“So I’ll ride home Lady Godiva style?”
“I can’t have you doing that.”
“You’re right. Way too weird. I’ll have to drag them on no matter how wet they are.”
“Have you ever tried to ride a horse in soggy jeans? It’s a miserable experience.”
“I’m sure, but I’ll just have to—”
“Here’s an idea. How about if I drape you face-down across Nugget’s saddle and lead you home like the lawmen used to bring in the desperados they’d gunned down?”
She started laughing. “Thanks, but I’ll take the soggy jeans route.”
“Aw, come on, Val. It’ll be like performance art. We’ll call it Moon Over the Palomino.”
Her laughter turned to giggles. “You’re horrible.”
“How about Ain’t No Valley Low Enough, Ain’t No Bottom High Enough?”
“Stop it! I’m liable to dunk again.”
“No, you won’t.” He pulled her the last two feet, reached out a hand and grabbed her. “I’ve got you.” Dropping the end of the rope, he wrapped her in his arms, soaking the front of his jeans and shirt in the process. “I’m sorry you fell in.”
“Aren’t you going to say I told you so?”
“Not my style.” Tilting her face up to his, he kissed her.
Big mistake. Once he started that, there was no stopping. She had to strip down, anyway, and his clothes weren’t in much better shape. Might as well get naked and be done with it. He rescued a condom from his pocket while she moved the saddlebags to the grass. They tumbled to the quilt, laughing.
As he rolled the condom on, she gazed up at him. “This is exactly what you said we weren’t supposed to do. Now we’ll never find firewood.”
“Yeah, we will. This is the modern age.” Moving over her, he sought her heat. “We have flashlights.” He drove deep.
She wrapped her arms around his back and her legs around his hips. “I’m sorry I ignored your advice.”
“I’m not.” He began to stroke.
Arching her back, she rose to meet his thrusts. “I’m not, either.”
He loved her hard and fast. The shadowy woods and rushing water brought out the mountain man in him.
She didn’t seem to mind. She
responded with abandon, her cries blending with the slap of waves against rocks and the moan of the wind through the tops of the tall pines.
They climaxed together. He hadn’t planned it, which made the sensation twice as glorious. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the spell, but eventually the breeze on his sweaty back made him shiver.
She murmured something that sounded like firewood. Or maybe it was higher good. Bottom line, in a few minutes they’d be cold and hungry. Time to get with the original program.
Easing away from her, he walked naked to where he’d left the saddlebags beside the still-viable fire pit. He located a trash bag and disposed of the condom. Then he stood for a moment, chilly but energized.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Channeling my inner nudist. Too bad we can’t just stay like this.”
“I don’t have much choice.”
“You have some choice. I tucked a couple of nylon windbreakers in since they take up no space at all.” He dug them out of a saddlebag before sitting on the blanket and handing one to her. “They lack feel-appeal, but they’ll block the cold.”
“Good thinking. But that only solves half the issue.”
“My jeans are only wet in the front, so I can tolerate that while I fetch us some firewood.”
“I’m not sure I could put mine on. And I really wanted to collect firewood, damn it.”
“Tell you what. Wrap up in the quilt while I go look for a fallen branch with a lot of little ones still attached. I’ll drag it over here and you can use the hatchet to break it up.”
“I’ve never used a hatchet.”
“Then I’ll teach you how.”
She gazed at him, her eyes luminous. “I know I’m the weakest link in this posse and I fell in the water which was a pain in the patoot for you, but I’m having the best time. I wish we had a tent so we could stay here.”
“I wasn’t planning to rush off after dinner.”
“I mean for several days. Like pioneers in the wilderness.”
“You really do want to go camping, don’t you?”
“I really, really do! I didn’t realize how much until you suggested going for a cookout. I thought I moved to Montana to be surrounded by cowboy culture. That’s only part of the picture. I moved here for all of it.”
Marriage-Minded Cowboy Page 14