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“Now, don’t you let her hear that, or it’s gonna make her cranky.” Caleb checked over his shoulder at the mare who’d pricked her ears and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t let her fool you. She understands English about as well as I do. Maybe better, since she’s got nothing more to do than to stand around all day pondering it.”
That made Lauren smile. “You seem to know her pretty well. I hear from my grandmother that she’s known you all of your life.”
“That about sums it up. My family has known hers for generations. I spent summers out here, until my grandparents downsized to a small house in town and I bought the place from them. I keep an eye on Mary’s place, take care of her horses, that kind of thing. I keep my own horse here, he likes the company. You’ve already met him. Here he comes.”
The brown and white paint pushed up to the fence, sniffing the air in hopes for any kind of treat. He pressed right up against the fence and reached over it with his long neck.
“I’m used to horses on television.” Lauren took one step back. “I didn’t know they were so big in real life.”
“They look even bigger when you’re on one of ’em, looking down.”
“I believe you.”
She wasn’t scared, he realized as she hung back, just uncertain. His fiancée, Jayna, had been petrified of horses, and that had been a problem. One of many that had been impossible to overcome. He ran a hand down his boy’s neck. “Hey, you big lug, listen up and use your manners for the lady. Stop nosing around for food, Leo.”
Leo took exception to that and gave a head toss, his silky brown mane rippling handsomely. A charmer from the day he was foaled, the gelding preened, arching his neck for the lady watching him. The horse was determined to impress her.
It seemed to work, although by the instant adoration in her eyes, clearly Lauren was softhearted. “He’s gorgeous.”
“Sure, and he knows it, too. Look at him showing off. He’s winking at you.”
“He’s cheeky. You taught him that, didn’t you?”
“Sure did. I suppose there weren’t horses where you grew up.”
“The kind on the merry-go-round. As a little girl, I always wanted a horse. I read every book with a horse in it. Watched everything I could find on TV. It was just a phase, I guess.”
“It’s a phase I never grew out of.”
“It must be nice.”
That made him wonder about her life and what she thought of him. There was a polish to her that made him guess she was right at home among skyscrapers and jam-packed streets and people everywhere. He was country through and through, but he understood. He’d liked living in Seattle, even if he’d felt hemmed in now and then.
Her sleek golden hair fluttered around her sweetheart’s face, framing it perfectly. In the mellow evening sunshine, she looked kissed by innocence. Like everything sweet and good in the world.
Not that he ought to be noticing that. Or the graceful way she moved, like the sunlight itself, with an unconscious poise that made her seem completely out of place in the rugged rural countryside of central Montana. His chest ached a little, but he couldn’t say why. Only that he couldn’t seem to look away as she reached up to stroke Leo’s nose. The gelding leaned into Lauren’s touch, as if he’d already made up his mind about the newcomer.
Yeah, that’s what he thought, too. Caleb tried to clear the ache out of his chest with a good deep breath of warm summer air, but it didn’t work.
“Well,” she said as she took a step back. “If I want to help with dinner, I’d best get going.”
Maybe it was the longing look as she gazed at the horse or simply his curiosity about her, but the words tumbled across his tongue before he could stop them. “Come meet me out here tomorrow morning and I’ll take you riding with me.”
“I’d love that, but there’s one problem.”
“Let me guess. You don’t know how to ride.”
“Yes, and it’s a rather huge problem.”
“Nope. I can teach you to ride in five minutes.”
“That’s a fib. Flaw number one.” Why wasn’t she surprised? Lauren kept backing away, because it was safer. Even a man as awesome as Caleb Stone had his flaws. “I know it takes more than five minutes to learn to ride. All those horse books and movies, remember?”
“Well, I didn’t say you’d ride like an expert, but in five minutes I can have you on the back of a horse riding around the corral.”
“Overconfidence. Flaw number two.”
“Hey, are you keeping count or something?”
“Me? Of course not. It’s habit, that’s all.” Maybe it was better to escape while she could, before she had to explain that. But maybe—down deep—she wanted to get away before she thought too much. She couldn’t let herself think that he was as great as he seemed, as she seemed to want him to be.
So she left the man with his horse awash in sunlight. And tried to turn her thoughts to other things as she hurried back to the path. She didn’t look back, although she could feel him watching after her, even when she’d disappeared around the garden patch and hurried out of his sight.
She climbed the porch steps, wondering if there was a man on earth a woman could truly depend on? She sure hoped so. But people let you down. Especially men. That was a proven fact in life—both in hers and in her mother’s.
Although the kitchen door was open, the screen door was closed. The mesh screen offered a view into the big sunny room with kettles boiling on the stove and a table scooted up to the wide picture window. Touches of lace were everywhere—delicate and handmade and frilly, they graced the windows, lay across the honeyed wood of the table and framed the snapshots on the walls. The room was like something out of an old television show as safe and as welcoming as home should be.
Lauren rapped her knuckles gently on the wooden frame of the screen door.
Mary peered around the inside archway. “Lauren. Come in, dear. I couldn’t help noticing you were talking to Caleb. He’s a very nice boy, don’t you think?”
Uh oh. Here it came. Lauren closed the screen door behind her, wincing at the look of hope shining on her grandmother’s sweet face. “Yes, Caleb seems very nice, but he’s not my type.”
“Really? You mean you’re not looking for a responsible, dependable, kind, smart man with old-fashioned values?” A challenge sparkled in Mary’s gentle smile.
“Sorry, I’m not looking for that. Not at all.” Lauren hoped she was able to cover up her real emotions, feelings that were too complicated to get into. “I’m more of a solo kind of girl.”
“That’s too bad you feel that way. My marriage was one of the greatest blessings of my life.” Mary’s smile changed and the look in her eyes did, too. “Being his wife, sharing his life, why, it was the greatest privilege.”
That was something Lauren couldn’t understand. She couldn’t imagine trusting anyone so much or letting anyone get that close. She held back her reasons why: the up-and-down relationships of her mother’s; the short and stormy marriages; the quest for the next husband, none of whom could possibly have been described as a blessing.
“I don’t really want to be a wife.” It was the closest thing to the truth she could say, the only thing that was easy. Everything else was too personal. Too painful. She hadn’t come all this way to share that with her grandmother.
“Don’t want to be a wife?” Mary looked truly confused. “Whatever do you mean? You don’t want a husband? A family? Love in your life?”
What did she say to a woman whose life was as removed from her reality as a fifties sitcom? “I’m happy with the way things are right now.”
“I see.” Mary studied Lauren for a long silent moment and in the stillness between them, the evening light shone a deep-hued rose. The room was painted by it; Mary seemed transformed by it.
Lauren could see the windows awash with the tone, the entire sky beyond a translucent turquoise and the clouds a neon pink. It was unreal, like a filter over a camera’s lens changing the hues of the world. That’s what it was like. The streaks of last light fractured as the sun lowered beneath the craggy rugged mountain peaks. The neon pink remained, lighting the underbellies of the long stretch of clouds. The sky turned a navy-purple tone, darkening as the moments passed.
“I’ll leave well enough alone, then,” Mary said as twilight deepened in the room. “You can’t blame a grandmother for hoping. I want all my grandchildren married and settled and happy in life.”
Lauren knew that Mary meant well. Maybe if she’d grown up here in the gentle shadow of the breathtaking Rocky Mountains with the love of this sunny, kind woman, she would be different. More trusting. Looking for love and marriage and happily-ever-after like a heroine in a romantic movie. It was a nice thought.
“It’s just that Caleb has just come out of a bad breakup.” Mary traced a finger over the words on the cover of a photo album. “He’s a good man and he deserves to find the right young woman. Someone nice.”
“Wait, you hardly know me. How do you know I’m nice?” She’d meant it to lighten the mood, but Mary’s face fell.
“My dear, why of course I know you.” Mary stood, coming after her, with her hands held out. “I’ve loved you forever.”
Mary brushed her free hand over the wisps of Lauren’s hair and tucked them behind her ear, as one would do to a small child. “I hope that you and I can get to know each other well before you head back to your life. I want you to find what you’ve come for.”
Pain jerked through the core of her being. “I haven’t come for anything. I’m not like my mother. I vowed long ago not to be like her. You don’t know that, I know, but it’s true. I didn’t come here to get something.”
“Oh, yes you did,” Mary said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And it’s what I need, too. God bless you for coming when I asked. Forgive me, but it’s getting late and my old bones are tired. Thank you for coming all this way. I wanted to meet you while I can remember.”
This she said with a smile. Shadows clung beneath her vibrant eyes and cut deep brackets around her mouth. In this light, it would be easy to believe Mary wasn’t well. Affection for this dear lady warmed Lauren through, but she also felt concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, dear. I’m as right as rain. But I’m not getting any younger.” Mary turned to the stove to check on the boiling kettles. She poked a fork into a potato inside one of the pots. “I guess none of us are. I gathered up a few family photo albums. They’re on the edge of the counter, right by the table. You missed so many good years, maybe this will help you understand when you meet your brother and sisters tomorrow.”
Okay, that idea made her seriously anxious. So much could go wrong. She tried to remind herself that so much could go right, too. She would be the outsider either way—and that was a role she was used to.
But this feeling of, well, connectedness was new.
There was understanding bright in Mary’s eyes. “Well, the potatoes are done. Let me get them drained and the pot roast on the table, then you and I will catch up. I want to hear all about your life. Your college classes. Your drive here. Meeting Caleb. Everything.”
It was hard to say no to that. Lauren went to help put the meal on the table.
Chapter Four
There was nothing like a Montana morning. Caleb liked to watch the sunrise come as quietly as an answered prayer. The webby shadows of darkness giving way to the gray-purple that came before dawn. By the time the promise of the sun was aglow, backlighting the rugged peaks of the Bridger Range, Caleb was climbing out of his truck with his travel mug of hot tea in hand and greeting the horses at the gate. Malia was the alpha horse, first to the rail and nipping to keep the others in line.
“Be nice,” he reminded her as he hauled the bucket of oats with him. Leaving his mug on a fence post, he spread out the molasses-sweetened oats in the long feed trough and the horses dug in. The sound of their crunching drowned out the lark song sweet in the fresh air. He gave Leo a welcoming pat and reached for his steaming mug.
As he took a sip, he scanned Mary’s spread—the home, gardens, pool, patios and carriage house. He didn’t really mean to notice, but the little guest home’s windows were open and the curtains drawn back, as if welcoming the day. Lauren was up? He couldn’t put his thumb on why that surprised him, but it did.
It was Jayna, that’s why. He knew better, but he’d painted city girls with the same slightly bitter brushstroke, mostly because it hurt less that way. Wounds of the heart took a long time to mend and sometimes they didn’t heal over as completely as one might like. Still, he had to get over it. It had been almost two years, long enough to put all of it, even the scars, behind him.
He savored the crisp taste of the cinnamon tea and tried to let the morning’s peace spill into him. But he couldn’t seem to take his gaze from Lauren’s cottage. Maybe it was her presence he sensed, since a few moments later there she was, wading toward him through the knee-high grass.
Dressed in jeans and a pink T-shirt, she looked as refreshing as the morning and as innocent as the wildflowers at her feet. Not that he ought to be noticing those things, either.
“Good morning, Caleb.” Her soft alto was hushed as she came nearer. “You’re a very early riser, too?”
“Guilty. Besides, the horses appreciate being fed first thing in the morning. How’d the evening go with your grandmother?”
“Wonderful.”
“You say that with relief. Like you were really worried.”
“In my experience, you can never tell about people, especially right when you meet them. I’m not the most trusting person, I guess. But we had such a good time looking through old photo albums. It was past midnight before we knew it.”
“I reckon Mary loved sharing those photographs—and the time—with you.”
“Oh, I’m the lucky one. She is nothing short of a blessing. I don’t know how Mom stole money from such a nice woman. And the family jewelry and heaven knows what else.”
“You figure everyone looks at you and sees her?”
“I would. I never answered birthday cards or sent a thank you for Christmas gifts. I didn’t know I’d gotten them.” Her unconscious shrug seemed to dismiss the issue.
He could tell there was a lot of pain there. “I suppose there was money in those birthday cards and pawnable items in those Christmas boxes?”
“That’s my guess, too. I was too little to know the difference and when I was older, everyone here had written Mom off for good and me along with her. Not that I blame her. Mom has a real destructive streak.”
“That’s why you don’t have much to do with her?”
“I left home for the college dorm and didn’t look back. There wasn’t anything to go back to. Just a basement apartment with security bars on the windows. Nothing like what you’re used to here.”
There it was, he saw the shadows darken her eyes. Past hurts. He knew how that was. Yet she waved them away with an unconscious gesture.
He couldn’t help liking her. She was nice. And she’d been on his mind through the evening. Here she was standing before him with a wistful expression, looking at the mountains and pastures and horses. The promise he’d made stood between them and he felt it sorely. “Are you ready for your riding lesson?”
“Now?”
“Sure. I usually saddle up before I have to head in to work. Nothing like a morning ride to start your day off right.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a town cop.” He watched her eyes widen and she took a step back. “What, you don’t like policemen?”
“I don’t have the best association with them.” Great, now he thinks I have a record. Lauren rolled her eyes. She was getting off on the wrong foot with this man. One thing she really didn’t like was looking back into the past. “When I was little, Mom had a hard time keeping up with the rent. We were given notice of eviction a few times. Court ordered.”
“That’s rough.”
When he could have been judgmental, he sounded kind. Somehow that was harder to accept. “There are worse things in the world. Like pandemics. Wide-scale starvation.”
“Those things would be rougher.”
“Exactly. In the scheme of things, it wasn’t so bad.”
The compassion in his eyes and—again—the kindness in his voice made her like him even more. Against her will, apparently. “A cop, huh?”
“Yep. I try to be one of the good ones.”
“I don’t doubt that.” She could see him in her mind’s eye, all suited up in his uniform, upholding the law with that kindness of his. And compassion. Her heart tugged with an emotion she would not acknowledge. Back to the horses, which were a much safer subject. “Can you really teach me to ride in five minutes?”
“Absolutely.” He’d parked his truck nearby and he was already reaching into the back. “See the brown mare?”
“You mean the tallest horse?”
“That’s the one.”
“You’re going to give me the biggest horse, knowing that I’ll probably fall off and land on my hind end in the dirt?” She was laughing, though. He had to be teasing her. “You’re going to give me the short one to learn to ride on, right?”
“Oh, I see what you’re saying, city girl. You’re worried about falling off a horse. Well, falling is certain. Getting back up is what separates the men from the boys. Or, in your case, the women from the girls. But that doesn’t sound right.”
“No, it doesn’t. I think you’re making fun of a city girl, Mr. Stone.”
