by Lydia Olson
“Follow me,” he told her.
Jane gave him a small smile, but she complied. He felt single-minded focus as he led her toward Sapphire. She was his only female horse, and much like Jane, she was beautiful and mild-mannered.
“This is Sapphire,” he said. “I think you’ll like her.”
He had bought Sapphire on a whim. He’d seen her at an auction, and he had been awed by her pure, white coat.
“Oh,” Jane breathed, her voice soft. “She’s gorgeous.”
“She’s yours.” The words came out before Milton could stop them. He had bought Sapphire before he had even thought to take a wife. He couldn’t bear the idea of someone else getting her. She was too fine a horse to end up belonging to just anyone, but she wasn’t a horse that fit Milton’s riding style. Sapphire was a quiet but confident girl. She would be the perfect horse for Jane. Milton was sure of it.
“Are you sure?” Jane asked. “She’s a grand creature.” Her eyes did not leave Sapphire and Milton knew that she was pleased.
“She’s meant for you,” Milton said. His voice was soft as he watched Jane bond with the horse. He’d had every intention of buying Jane her own horse, but it seemed that she had instantly loved Sapphire. He smiled as he watched her cooing over her new horse.
“Thank you,” Jane said. “I’ve never had a horse of my own.”
Milton couldn’t understand that. Jane had mentioned that her father had only allowed his ranchers to use the horses, and he found it absolutely ridiculous that her father kept her so sequestered. From what Milton could gather, Jane was responsible for keeping her father’s house; she’d been more like a wife than a daughter. Milton frowned as he thought about the different things that Jane had said about her father. The only good thing was that he had hadn’t thrown her out when her mother had died.
“We should get going,” Milton said. “We will want to be back in time for lunch.”
“Of course,” Jane said.
She placed her foot in the stirrup and tried to hoist herself up into the saddle. She didn’t make it. Milton stifled a laugh as he watched her try again. Every time that she fell, she released a little huff of frustration.
“Let me help you,” Milton said. He started walking toward her.
“I suppose I’m out of practice. It’s been a while since I got on a horse myself.”
Milton had figured, based on what Jane had told him, that she didn’t have a great deal of experience with horses. It was why he had sneaked out early in the morning to muck the stalls and prepare their horses for riding.
“Here,” Milton said, and without giving it too much thought, he grabbed Jane around her waist. She was so slender that his hands were practically wrapped all the way around it. “I’ll give you a boost.”
Jane turned her head slightly causing her skin to brush against him. Neither of them said anything, but a thick tension overtook them. Jane’s cheeks flushed a lovely pink, and Milton fought the urge to press his fingers against her skin. He wondered if it was as soft as it appeared.
“On the count of three,” Milton said, his voice gruff. “One, two …” Before he could say three, Jane hoisted herself in the air and into the saddle. Milton’s arms came away from her, and he immediately missed the warmth of her against him.
Stop being muddleheaded, he thought to himself. Milton had seen many beautiful women, but none of them had affected him the way his wife seemed to. There was something about Jane that drew him in completely.
Milton walked back to Smoke and seated himself on the saddle.
“Let’s go,” he told Jane as he started leading Smoke out of the barn. “We’ve got a lot of land to see.”
Looking back, Milton could see the smile on Jane’s face. It was bright and wide, and with her flushed cheeks she looked breathtaking. So far, marriage was better than Milton could ever have imagined.
***
“Where’s your favorite place?” Jane asked.
“What?” Milton asked.
They had been riding for a few hours now, and Milton had expected Jane to want to head back. She wasn’t used to being in the saddle for so long, and he expected her to want a short ride before heading back to the house.
Whenever Milton suggested heading back, Jane would find a reason that they should stay out for a while longer. Milton wasn’t in a rush to head back. The weather was nice. It was warm enough in the sun, but a light, cool breeze kept them from overheating.
But now, it was nearly noon, and Jane’s hungry stomach forced them to start heading back. Now, they were talking to one another as their horses slowly walked back towards the barn.
They’d spent the morning getting to know one another. It was one of the nicest afternoons that Milton had had in a long time. He worked hard. Most of his days were spent making sure that the ranch would continue to grow and expand. The only reason he wasn’t working today was because Hank, Sara, and Jane ganged up on him.
He was glad for it, though. He hadn’t thought much about getting to know Jane. It seemed silly thinking about it. He had wanted a wife to have a partner on the ranch. He couldn’t have that partner if she didn’t know much about it.
Jane seemed to think the same. She asked him question after question.
“Your favorite place,” Jane asked. “Is it the ranch?”
Milton shook his head. Strangely enough, it was not. “No,” he told her. “It’s Red Rock Park.”
“Really?” she asked.
Milton nodded. “Next time, I’ll take you there. It’s not safe to ride there—too many crags and ridges, but we could go on a picnic.”
Milton could hardly believe that he was making plans, but he was excited to do it. He wanted to get to know more about Jane.
“That would be lovely. I want to see more of Colorado. Traveling here has made me realize that I haven’t seen too much of the outside world.” There was a sadness to Jane’s voice, and it caused a small knot to form in Milton’s stomach.
He would gladly show Jane Colorado, but he wasn’t interested in a wife who wanted to see the world. His mother had been like that, and it had led nowhere good.
Milton said nothing. For the first time, he felt worried that there might be a part of Jane that would eventually want nothing more than to leave their home. After all, it was what Milton’s mother had done.
Chapter Nine
Jane and Milton returned from their ride several hours later, and though Jane was in good spirits, she could feel a sort of tension between the two of them. Something Jane said had destroyed the sweetness that their morning ride had brought. Jane had enjoyed learning about Milton, though getting any real information out of him was akin to wrestling a chicken.
Now though, Milton was gruff and taciturn.
“I have to get the horses some hay,” Milton said, as they returned to the barn. “I didn’t have time to replenish the hay before we went on our ride.”
“I can help,” Jane said. She wasn’t ready to go back to the house. The idea of being confined inside with nothing to do on such a lovely day felt like torture.
Milton lifted a golden eyebrow. “Have you ever baled hay?”
“No,” Jane said, her voice holding a tone of offense. “But I’m a quick learner, and I’m sure that I can learn.”
For a moment, Jane thought that Milton would tell her no. He seemed to believe that her place was in the house. After that, she wasn’t sure what her place on the ranch really was outside of preparing meals.
“Alright,” Milton agreed.
“Really?” Jane asked, in a surprised tone. She had not expected Milton to agree.
He nodded. “I’m starving, and things will go much quicker if we do it together.”
Jane tried not to appear too eager, but she was excited to get her hands dirty. Maybe if I do a good job Milton will start to trust me to help more around the ranch. Though Jane was enjoying having some time to explore her own interests, she was bored. And idle hands were the devil’s playthin
gs after all. She needed more to do. She couldn’t imagine spending her entire life sitting in the house waiting for Milton to grow hungry.
“Here,” Milton said. He handed Jane a pitchfork. It was awkward for her to wrap her small hands around and was nearly as tall as she was. How am I going to use this? she wondered, as she looked at the instrument.
“I’m going to show you how to use this,” Milton said. “There’s an art to it.”
Jane tried to match his stern look, but she was trying not to giggle at the idea of pitching hay being an “art.”
“So,” Milton said. He pointed his pitchfork down toward the large pile of hay. His motions were quick and as he thrust upward, he caught a large amount of hay on the end of his pitchfork. Jane was impressed by how quickly he moved and the way his arm muscles bulged in his shirt.
This is an enjoyable sight, Jane thought, smirking.
“Are you paying attention?” Milton asked.
Jane snapped to attention. “Of course.” She moved toward the hay, turning the pitchfork around as she went.
“Easy!” Milton said, as he jumped far away from her. “Watch the pointed end.”
“Sorry!” Jane said. She tried not to giggle at the stern look on Milton’s face. She thrust forward, hard, and confidently. Jane thought that cooking a Thanksgiving meal for a dozen people was a lot more difficult than pitching hay.
Jane lifted the pitchfork triumphantly, only to watch all the hay fall through the tines of the pitchfork and back into the pile. Jane frowned. She was completely flummoxed by what just happened. Turning, she gave Milton an incredulous look. “What happened?” she asked. “I did it the same way that you did.”
Milton laughed. Though Jane knew that he was laughing at her, she wasn’t angry. Milton wasn’t the type of person who laughed very often. In fact, she did not think that she had heard him laugh, not truly, in the entire week that she had been on the ranch. He should laugh more often, she thought. She liked the sound of it, and it was something that she hoped he would do more of.
“It’s harder than it looks, isn’t it?” Milton asked. His tone was rather smug, and Jane did not care for it. Though she knew that he wasn’t being malicious, his tone reminded her of Kate, and she was determined to prove him wrong. Kate loved telling Jane how useless she was.
“Let me help you.” Milton came closer to her, but Jane turned away from him.
“I can do it,” she bragged. “Just give me a chance.” Jane thrust forward once more. She attacked the hay pile with all of her might. She took out all her frustration on her work, and she was sure that this time she would get it right.
But that didn’t happen. When Jane brought the pitchfork up, all of the hay slid down the tines and fell back into the pile. She sighed, but she was not going to give up. She tried again, but she couldn’t catch more than just a few pieces of hay.
“Let me help you,” Milton said again. He walked toward her, but she did not put the pitchfork down. She was determined to prove herself to Milton. She didn’t want him to think that she was useless and only good for staying in the house.
“I’ll figure it out,” she said. At this point, she knew that she was being ridiculous. The exertion was causing her to become a sweaty mess, but her determination persisted.
“Opf,” Milton grunted, and Jane shrieked slightly. She dropped her pitchfork. It hit the floor of the barn with a loud clang.
Jane turned to see Milton partially bent as he tried to catch his breath. “Oh goodness,” she said. She rushed over to Milton. In her desperation to prove herself, she had accidentally nailed Milton in the abdomen with her elbow. “I’m so sorry.”
Milton waved her away. “I’m fine,” he said. He sounded a bit winded.
Jane felt silly. In her zeal to prove her usefulness, she had injured Milton. She sighed. Her mother had always warned her about her pridefulness. When she was a little girl, she would always try to do everything better than Kate. It had been the only way that she could rebel against her sister’s cruelty. Oftentimes, the only thing it did was leave her mother angry with her. Jane thought she’d given up such stubbornness.
“I’m fine,” Milton said. He was now upright. “You caught me by surprise.”
“I should have just let you help me,” Jane said. She felt racked with disappointment. Not only had she injured Milton, but she still hadn’t even gotten enough hay on the pitchfork to make any sort of difference.
“You were doing fine on your own,” Milton said, kindly.
Jane snorted. It wasn’t very ladylike, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her ego was bruised in more ways than one. “That’s kinder than I deserve, but I wasn’t doing very well at all.”
Milton laughed. He grabbed the pitchfork he had placed against the barn wall. “You have to flick your wrists upward when bringing the pitchfork upward. Treat it like a shovel. You’ll be able to catch more hay that way.”
Milton showed her once more. This time Jane paid close attention. She could see where she had gone wrong. She had kept the pitchfork too close to the ground, and as such, her hay kept slipping through. If Jane had been paying closer attention, she would have noticed the correct motion before, and she would have been able to actually pitch the hay instead of nearly maiming her new husband.
“I’m sorry again,” Jane said. “I should have been looking more closely.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Milton said kindly. “I’ve had worse injuries working on the ranch.”
“I was being stubborn,” Jane said. “It’s one of my worst traits.”
Milton laughed. “I have a slew of bad traits. If you ask Sara about it, I’m sure that she will be happy to give you a list.”
This time Jane laughed. She did not want to tell him that Sara had already made such a list for her. But she had also made a list of all the wonderful attributes that Milton had, which was much longer. Jane hoped that one day someone might think of her in such a positive light.
“I just wanted to show you that I could be of help here,” Jane said.
Milton stopped pitching. He turned toward her, his handsome face screwed up in confusion, as if he could not believe the words that she was speaking.
“You don’t have to help on the ranch,” he told her. “I have plenty of men to help me run things.”
Jane sighed. She kicked a piece of hay with her boot. She did not want to upset Milton, but she also did not want to lie to him. She’d only been on the ranch for a week, and while she wasn’t unhappy, she knew that she could not spend every day with nothing more to do than wait around for Milton to come home for a meal. She would go insane.
“I want to help,” Jane said. “I’m not used to being so idle.”
Once more, Milton seemed confused. “Did you work on your father’s ranch?” he asked.
Jane wasn’t sure how she was going to explain her roles in her father’s home. She didn’t want Milton to think that she was mistreated because she hadn’t been, not in any way, but she had been completely at her father’s mercy.
“I was responsible for keeping the house,” she said, vaguely.
“Keeping the house? Cooking?” Milton asked.
Jane bit her lip. “I did the cooking, and the sewing. I was responsible for the cleaning because Pa couldn’t afford to get more than one maid and the house was so large. I took care of the livestock and pulled our vegetables.”
Milton’s mouth overturned in a frown. The deep lines in his face grew deeper and he stared at her with his dark brown eyes in a way that made her feel a bit uncomfortable.
“You must be quite bored here,” he said.
Jane shook her head. “I’m not!” she exclaimed. She was lying. Her whole life she had been told that a good woman took care of things so that her family wasn’t put out in any way. Yes, Jane was bored, but she was also worried that if she didn’t provide for Milton, then one day he would realize that he wasn’t getting anything from her.
Milton came toward her
, and she felt the tips of his finger brush against her jawline as he tipped her head so that she was looking at him.
“I want you to be happy here,” he told her. “So, if forking hay is what makes you happy then I’ll teach you to fork hay.”
Jane couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. She felt tears starting to fill in her eyes. Jane wasn’t typically an emotional woman. She’d had to learn to bottle things up. But she’d also never had anyone care about her happiness. At least, not since her mother had passed.