by Amy Sandas
She rushed off toward the house, and Dean took a few minutes to check over the pen, deciding that the work could wait one more day before he headed into the barn to ready their mounts. He knew just the one to saddle for Courtney—a sweet, old paint mare with an easy gait and a steady, patient temperament.
Just over thirty minutes later, they stood in the cool shadows of the barn as Courtney eyed the mare with a dubious expression. She had dressed in a white cotton shirt and a simple brown riding skirt. “How do I know she won’t decide to take off running when I’m not ready?”
“Gwen won’t do anything you don’t want her to,” Dean assured her.
“Gwen?”
“Short for Guinevere.”
Her eyebrows shot up at that. “As in King Arthur and Lancelot and the Knights of the Round Table?”
He should have known the fanciful name he’d come up with so long ago would spark her interest.
Dean tugged on the mare’s chest strap, making sure the saddle was secure, even though he’d already checked it twice. “It was a story my mother read to us. Before she left.”
There was a moment of silence before Courtney asked quietly, “Do you miss her?”
“Nope.”
“That’s rather sad.”
He looked at her over the top of the saddle where she stood beside the paddock. “No, it’s not. She made her choice. There’s been plenty of time to move on. Besides, Randall and I had Augie.”
“Your grandfather?”
Dean nodded as he adjusted the buckle on a stirrup. “He took us in hand, gave us a home and a livelihood. He taught us right from wrong and made sure we had passable table manners.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
Dean noticed something odd in her tone. He scanned her expression, but as expected, it gave nothing away. “What about your family?” he asked. “Do you miss them?”
She seemed to think through her answer. “My father holds an important position with the city council and on several other boards and was rarely home. If I added up all the time I spent in his company over my entire life, it would probably fit inside a day or two.” She sighed as she reached out a tentative hand to stroke her mare’s forelock. “My mother, on the other hand, has forever been at my elbow, making sure I knew exactly how to comport myself as a member of the Adams family. We had to keep up appearances, and I am afraid I was a challenging child. She must have been exhausted by the time I was presented to society, but it was her duty to ensure I was a success.”
“And were you? A success?”
She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Of course.”
The reply was entirely without conceit. It also lacked any personal joy in the accomplishment.
“What about brothers and sisters?” he asked.
Her smile returned with that question. “Oh yes, I have several of those. Three sisters and two brothers to be exact. Unfortunately, they did not start coming along until several years after I was born. It would have been nice to have playmates when I was young. It’s a great deal more fun visiting with the children than spending any significant time with my parents.”
Dean could easily picture her running around playing tag across a huge green lawn or just sitting on the floor, reading a book with small children sprawled around.
“You want children of your own.” He said the words almost to himself, not intending to say them out loud. But she heard him.
Her eyes sparkled as she replied, “I always imagined having children. At least I did when I’d thought I would be marrying Geoffrey.” She glanced down. “But things change, I guess. Maybe someday,” she finished optimistically.
Choosing not to dwell on such thoughts, Dean rushed through the rest of his instructions before he offered his linked hands for a leg up. As soon as her rear landed in the saddle, he could see the day was going to be more challenging than he’d thought. Dean was a bit surprised to find that she didn’t take to riding as quickly and easily as she’d taken to everything else that had come her way since arriving at the ranch.
Her posture was way too stiff and unyielding, her boots were positioned too far in the stirrups, her hands were too tight on the reins, and her gaze was too jumpy. The only things going for her were her enthusiasm and optimism.
It was a start at least.
They kept to a slow and even walk, keeping close to the river that wound away from the homestead. Dean offered tips and adjustments along the way. But the city girl beside him just couldn’t seem to relax enough to properly feel the movement of the horse beneath her.
“You’ve gotta find a sense of harmony with your horse. Move together, not against each other. Relax.”
“I’m sorry. I am trying,” she replied with a tight little glance before she tensed and tugged on the reins inadvertently as she reached to grasp the saddle horn. The abrupt movement caused Gwen to raise her head in protest.
“Do something for me,” Dean said as an idea came to mind.
“What?” she asked without looking away from where her gaze was trained hard on a spot between her mount’s ears. The strain in her voice was obvious.
“Loop the reins over the saddle horn.”
The glance she sent flying in his direction was one of shock. “But then how will I direct her?”
“You’re not going to. Gwen will stay at my side with no urging from you.”
“What if she takes off?”
“She won’t,” he replied. “Trust me.”
After a moment, Courtney did as he said. As soon as she let go of the reins, she immediately wrapped her hands around the saddle horn.
“Now, I want you to close your eyes.”
“Not a chance, cowboy,” she retorted so quickly Dean almost let loose with a laugh.
“Courtney,” he said in a smooth, coaxing but firm tone. “You need to trust me.”
Her spine tensed and her jaw tightened, but after a moment, she did as he asked and closed her eyes.
A second later, they flew open again.
“Keep them shut.”
She made a sound of frustration and annoyance, but closed her eyes again. This time they stayed closed.
“Okay,” he said. “Now all you gotta do is feel the movement of the horse beneath you.”
“I assure you I can feel the movement quite well.”
Dean smiled at her sassy reply. “I want you try to feel it not as something to resist or counteract, but as an extension of yourself.”
“How on earth do I do that?”
“You start by relaxing. Soften your spine, princess. Release the muscles in your thighs until your legs are gently hugging the horse. Until you can feel her breath expand and contract.”
He waited, watching as she tried to follow his instruction. After a while, her hands didn’t grip the saddle horn so tightly, and her arms started to sway a bit with the movement of the mare. The position of her legs started to look more natural. Unsurprisingly, her spine was the last to release, but eventually it did.
“Good,” he murmured once he saw that she had finally let go of her physical resistance. “Now, I want you to try to anticipate her next step, feel how it shifts your weight. How does it change the pressure of your feet in the stirrups, the way your hips roll in the saddle? Notice how your shoulders move in a balanced counteraction.”
It took some time, but after a while, he started to see progress.
She must have realized it too, because her eyes opened and she turned to him with a beatific smile. “I’m riding!”
Dean swallowed hard when the joyful light in her eyes hit him square in the gut. “Yep. But now it’s time to head back.”
Her expression turned down in disappointment. “So soon?”
“Your rear end won’t thank me if I keep you in that saddle too much longer.”
Her
blush as he commented on that particular part of her anatomy was a pretty sight, stirring a reaction he’d been trying to resist. His next words came through a throat that had gone suddenly dry. “Pick up your reins, and we’ll turn around.”
The ride back was more relaxed in regard to the riding, but less so in other ways. Despite his worry and anxiety over putting Courtney in the saddle, Dean realized he’d enjoyed the time away from the house. And away from his office.
Back at the barn, he helped her to the ground, feeling more than a little regret that she didn’t hold fast to him like she’d done the other time he’d gotten her off a horse. Still, her smile was worth all the lustful tension flowing through him.
“Can we ride again tomorrow?” she asked.
Dean thought of what needed to be done the next day. “I don’t know if I’ll have the time.” Though she smiled her acceptance, Dean could sense the disappointment she carefully concealed. “I’ll see if Randall can manage a few things for me, maybe free up some time.”
“Really?” Her wide-eyed, hopeful surprise made him feel like he’d just offered to hang the moon for her. And damn him if he didn’t like the way that felt.
“We’ll see. Go on up to the house. I imagine you’ll want a bath after riding.”
“Shouldn’t I help you with the horses? Grooming and such?”
Normally, Dean would insist on it. Anyone learning to ride needed to know how to properly care for their mount. But just now, he needed some time alone to sort through the mess she was making of his insides.
“I’ll see to them this time,” he replied.
She nodded, though he could see she would have preferred to stay.
He went straight to work unsaddling Gwen, making sure he was too busy to watch his wife walk away.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Courtney was sitting on the front porch when she saw the dust cloud coming down the road.
It was late afternoon, and she was alone. Jimena was home with Pilar, who was not feeling well. And Dean had ridden off shortly after breakfast that morning.
His avoidance was frustrating.
After the riding lesson the day before, he had spent the rest of the afternoon into the evening working. He had stopped only once to pop into the kitchen just before suppertime to advise that he wouldn’t be eating until much later and ask if she could just leave a covered plate on the counter for him.
Courtney had offered to bring his meal out to his office, but he’d brushed it off, stating that he wasn’t hungry and he’d just eat later.
Later turned out to be well after Courtney had given up on reading in the parlor and retired to her bedroom for the night. Almost an hour after she had turned her bedroom lamp down, she’d finally heard him coming in the house. He’d headed straight to his bedroom.
When she woke in the morning to discover he had already left the house, she was not surprised. She’d tried to keep herself occupied, but for every hour that passed without him making an appearance, Courtney found herself reaching an even more distracting state of frustration.
Or was it a more frustrating state of distraction?
Either way…she missed him. After less than a day.
It was ridiculous.
So, when she’d first seen the dust cloud approaching down the drive, she had felt relief. At least now she had something to get her mind off her stubborn husband. But relief was soon followed by a slight sense of trepidation as she wondered who might be coming to visit and why.
The homestead had quieted down again with so many of the hands enjoying their days off in town. At that moment, she was the only person around to greet the visitors.
Despite the niggle of uncertainty in her chest, the duties of a proper hostess were too well ingrained in Courtney for her not to show proper grace in greeting guests. Even uninvited ones.
She rose to her feet and walked to the railing as she discerned three riders approaching on horseback. Within a few more minutes, the men—cowboys by the look of them—entered the yard. One was older, perhaps near sixty, with faded gray hair, a bushy beard, and a thick, stocky frame. The other two were younger. And while one of them resembled the older gentleman enough to be his son, with dark-brown hair rather than gray and a solid-muscled frame, the other did not.
In fact, the father and son both wore smiles as they drew their horses to a stop at the hitching rail beside the porch, but the last man hung back and remained seated on his horse, as though he didn’t really want to be calling on the Lawton Ranch at all. With his worn leather gloves and suntanned skin, he was clearly a man who spent a great deal of time on the range, so when he settled his gaze on Courtney with a hard and silent stare, she decided to excuse his ill manners.
She stepped around to the porch steps and turned her smile to the friendlier-looking cowboys as they dismounted and approached on foot. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”
“Hello, ma’am,” the older man replied as he swept his hat off in his hand and gave a deep bow of his head.
“Ma’am,” repeated his son. The younger man couldn’t have been much older than Courtney. His brown hair was worn long and fell just past his shoulders. His features were handsome, and his brown eyes appeared open and friendly.
The one on horseback remained silent and scowling several paces away.
“If you are seeking Mr. Lawton, I am afraid he is not currently available to visitors. Unless you are here on an urgent matter?”
A look passed between the two before the older one took an almost hesitant step forward. “Though we’d like to see Dean, I’m not so sure he’s interested in accepting a visit from us. We actually rode over today to meet you, Mrs. Lawton.”
Courtney did not show any of the surprise she felt. People talk. It should have been expected that the news would have gotten around to some curious neighbors.
“Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Horatio MacDonnell. This is my son, Clinton, and that there is our foreman, Gilbert Hayes. My ranch neighbors the Lawton place to the west. I was good friends with Dean’s grandfather.”
Good Lord, this was Anne’s family.
“Yes, of course,” Courtney replied. “Please, won’t you come have a seat? I can fetch some lemonade.”
“No, ma’am,” Horatio replied with a smile. “We just heard Dean had gotten himself a bride, and we wanted to come by to offer our congratulations.”
“That is very kind of you,” Courtney replied, her stomach tightening over what she had to say next. If anyone deserved to know the full truth of how she had come to marry Dean, she imagined it was this family. “I am afraid my marriage to Mr. Lawton occurred under some rather unusual circumstances,” she began carefully.
“I’d say,” Clinton replied with a short laugh.
Horatio gave his son a warning look. “We were mighty surprised by the news, but we did hear some of how the union came about. Not that it’s any of our business as I see it. I came here today to welcome you, Mrs. Lawton, and to express my hope that you’ll decide to settle in for a more permanent stay.”
Courtney wasn’t sure just how much of her situation the MacDonnells understood, and she had no idea what Dean would want them to know. She hesitated in replying, though something told her these men (perhaps with the exception of the foreman) were offering honest felicitations.
“I am not sure yet what my future will hold, Mr. MacDonnell, but I appreciate your sentiment.”
The older man took a step forward as he said rather haltingly, “If I may ask, Mrs. Lawton…I have no desire to offend or cause any emotional discomfort, but has Dean talked to you about my daughter, Anne?”
Courtney empathized with the gentleman’s obvious struggle in bringing up the sensitive subject. Whatever he wished to say was likely important. She tried to put him at ease. “He did tell me that he and Anne had intended to marry.”
Mr. Mac
Donnell nodded sadly. “The thing is, I understand Dean somehow blames himself for what happened. I tried to tell him that was ridiculous, but he didn’t want to hear anything from me. He’s been avoiding our family for nearly three years now.”
“Stubborn ass,” Clinton interjected.
Courtney agreed.
“I’d like to see the boy move on. I’m old enough to know how important it is to continue toward the future even as we mourn the losses of our past. I’ll admit I’m hoping you might be that future for Dean. Even though he’s shut us out of his life, he’s still part of our family. I’d like to see him happy.”
The sincerity in the older man’s eyes squeezed Courtney’s heart. She wished Dean were there to accept his wishes himself.
Unfortunately, if Dean was ever to find happiness, it was not likely to be with her.
“I will pass on your words, but I’m afraid there is little chance of a future between Dean and myself.”
“Then he’s a damn idiot,” Clinton asserted.
Courtney smiled at him. “And please, though I never met your daughter, I hope your family will accept my condolences. From what I’ve heard of her, she was a unique and wonderful young woman.”
Clinton gave a snorting laugh. “Unique is right, ain’t it, Pa,” he said with a clap on his father’s back.
“That she was,” the older man agreed with a wide grin. “No one could tell that girl anything. She lived by her own rules from the day she was born up until the moment she left this earth.”
The foreman’s horse suddenly sidestepped with impatience or nerves. The restless movement drew the other men’s attention and had them shifting their feet.
“Well, it’s time we headed back. Mrs. Lawton, it was a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you,” she replied in earnest. “Thank you for the visit.”
Clinton stepped forward and offered his hand. Courtney returned the gesture, and he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll say it again. Dean would be twenty times more a fool than he has been the last few years if he lets you get away.”