he’d grown accustomed to the feel of it and used it all the time now. It took him only a few minutes to tighten the girth, slip a bit between Rowdy’s teeth and turn toward Hannah.
She was standing with one stirrup draped over the seat of the saddle as she stared in bewilderment at the string girth.
So she was an English rider and didn’t know how to cinch up a Western saddle. It was as plain as the nose on Ty’s face. There were a thousand remarks he could make about that. Instead, he led his gelding up beside the mare and handed his reins to Hannah.
“Here you go. Let me do that. Put your gloves on before your fingers stiffen up.”
She did so.
In a minute they were out of the barn and riding down the gravel road.
So who was she? Ty wondered for the hundredth time. Where was she from and what was she doing here?
He didn’t voice the questions.
Off to his right a trio of robins hopped about, looking puffy and disgruntled in the snow.
Hannah turned toward them, seeming to ride without conscious thought.
“Dammit, Frank,” Ty said, raising his voice to an odd birdlike falsetto. “I told you it was too early to come back here. We should have stayed in Florida.”
To his surprise, Hannah laughed. His heart flip-flopped in his chest.
The rest of the ride was filled with talk and laughter. He showed her where, at the top of a distant rise, they could just see the trees that surrounded his parents’ house.
To the west, in a ravine where a bunch of scrubby box elders grew was where he had found a wounded fawn as a child. He’d carried it home and kept it until it lost its spots and moved on. But sometimes he thought he still caught glimpses of it.
Hannah watched him as he talked. Sometimes she turned away to gaze at the widespread country around them, and ask all sorts of questions.
What kind of bird? Had he always wanted to be a rancher? How many foals was he expecting? And with each of her questions, Ty’s own life seemed to take on a new significance, a new glow.
Finally the sun sunk beneath the low, western hills, casting midnight blue shadows across the snow. They reached the barn just as the last glimmer of light faded.
Supper was nothing more than a continuation of the same mood. Nate, eager for an evening with his band, was at his comical best. Even Pansy cracked what might be referred to as a smile.
Finally the meal was over and Nate and Pansy were gone for the night.
“Well…” Ty shuffled his feet, feeling suddenly nervous. He’d gotten somewhat accustomed to Hannah’s regal beauty, could almost breathe evenly in her presence now. But that was with others about. Now, alone with her, he felt his heartrate pick up and his temperature rise. “I guess I’ll go check the heifers. That’ll give me till midnight or so before I have to do it again.”
Hannah turned toward him. She’d spent the past hour or so upstairs while he’d padded about the lower floor trying not to image what she was doing up there. But it had been hopeless. She had taken a bath. He’d heard the water running, knew when it had been turned off, sensed the whisper of her blouse as she’d slipped it from her body. Almost felt the lap of the soft waves as she’d stepped into the tub.
“I’ll go out at midnight for you,” she said.
She was wearing a soft salmon-colored sweater tucked into her jeans. It caressed her breasts, accentuated her tiny waist and made his mouth go dry.
“Ty.”
“Huh?” He snapped out of his reverie, feeling patently stupid, and ridiculously overheated.
“I said I’ll check them at midnight.”
“No. That’s all right,” he said. It was going to be hard enough to sleep knowing they were the only two in the house. If he had to worry about her out there all alone, he might just as well kiss his poor lonely bed goodbye. “I want to go out.”
She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had.
“No, really. The cold air will do me good.” Never was a truer word
She was standing with one stirrup draped over the seat of the saddle as she stared in bewilderment at the string girth.
So she was an English rider and didn’t know how to cinch up a Western saddle. It was as plain as the nose on Ty’s face. There were a thousand remarks he could make about that. Instead, he led his gelding up beside the mare and handed his reins to Hannah.
“Here you go. Let me do that. Put your gloves on before your fingers stiffen up.”
She did so.
In a minute they were out of the barn and riding down the gravel road.
So who was she? Ty wondered for the hundredth time. Where was she from and what was she doing here?
He didn’t voice the questions.
Off to his right a trio of robins hopped about, looking puffy and disgruntled in the snow.
Hannah turned toward them, seeming to ride without conscious thought.
“Dammit, Frank,” Ty said, raising his voice to an odd birdlike falsetto. “I told you it was too early to come back here. We should have stayed in Florida.”
To his surprise, Hannah laughed. His heart flip-flopped in his chest.
The rest of the ride was filled with talk and laughter. He showed her where, at the top of a distant rise, they could just see the trees that surrounded his parents’ house.
To the west, in a ravine where a bunch of scrubby box elders grew was where he had found a wounded fawn as a child. He’d carried it home and kept it until it lost its spots and moved on. But sometimes he thought he still caught glimpses of it.
Hannah watched him as he talked. Sometimes she turned away to gaze at the widespread country around them, and ask all sorts of questions.
What kind of bird? Had he always wanted to be a rancher? How many foals was he expecting? And with each of her questions, Ty’s own life seemed to take on a new significance, a new glow.
Finally the sun sunk beneath the low, western hills, casting midnight blue shadows across the snow. They reached the barn just as the last glimmer of light faded.
Supper was nothing more than a continuation of the same mood. Nate, eager for an evening with his band, was at his comical best. Even Pansy cracked what might be referred to as a smile.
Finally the meal was over and Nate and Pansy were gone for the night.
“Well…” Ty shuffled his feet, feeling suddenly nervous. He’d gotten somewhat accustomed to Hannah’s regal beauty, could almost breathe evenly in her presence now. But that was with others about. Now, alone with her, he felt his heartrate pick up and his temperature rise. “I guess I’ll go check the heifers. That’ll give me till midnight or so before I have to do it again.”
Hannah turned toward him. She’d spent the past hour or so upstairs while he’d padded about the lower floor trying not to image what she was doing up there. But it had been hopeless. She had taken a bath. He’d heard the water running, knew when it had been turned off, sensed the whisper of her blouse as she’d slipped it from her body. Almost felt the lap of the soft waves as she’d stepped into the tub.
“I’ll go out at midnight for you,” she said.
She was wearing a soft salmon-colored sweater tucked into her jeans. It caressed her breasts, accentuated her tiny waist and made his mouth go dry.
“Ty.”
“Huh?” He snapped out of his reverie, feeling patently stupid, and ridiculously overheated.
“I said I’ll check them at midnight.”
“No. That’s all right,” he said. It was going to be hard enough to sleep knowing they were the only two in the house. If he had to worry about her out there all alone, he might just as well kiss his poor lonely bed goodbye. “I want to go out.”
She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had.
“No, really. The cold air will do me good.” Never was a truer word
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