To Wed a Rancher (10 page)

“That's because they're big.”

“But you can charm her. You have carrots.”

“I do?”

Shane laughed. “Yes.” He produced a carrot and showed her how to hold it on the flat of her palm so that her fingers couldn't get nipped by Lizzie's teeth. The horse lapped the carrot up and then snuffled around for more.

“Oh, she's hungry. Do you have another one?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, and she's not hungry. She knows you're a sucker. And you like to feed people.”

“Lizzie, I promise you that these carrots are much healthier than my cooking and not nearly so lethal.” The horse's gentle whinny seemed to say that she understood. Within no time Rachel and Lizzie seemed to be talking back and forth as Rachel rubbed Lizzie's coat. “I haven't really been out here much. I've been so busy.”

“I know. I should have taken the time to make sure you had fun and not all work.”

She shrugged. “I don't think bosses have to do that. Besides, there's that deadline.”

“Even so, you've never been on a ranch, and you might not get near one again. I—Rachel, I won't push you, but…are you really afraid of Lizzie? I mean of riding Lizzie? Because I think you'd love it.”

“I think I'd
want
to love it, but…I'm really, really terrified of heights. One of my stepmothers made me climb up on the roof when I was twelve because I'd thrown a Frisbee up there. I slipped and nearly fell off.”

A low curse escaped Shane's lips. “That's criminal.”

She shrugged, trying not to think about that day, an echo of her fear resounding in her memory even today. “I guess it wasn't a totally high roof. I practically dared her to make me do it. But still…I can't forget that swooping, out-of-control sensation as I gathered
speed sliding toward the edge or the feeling that I might not be able to stop, trying to clutch at shingles and not being able to. Only my shoe jamming against the gutter saved me.”

Shane's brows drew together. His hands were curled into fists. “Were you afraid of heights before?” The words shot from his mouth. Cold. Hard. Angry.

“No. I loved climbing.”

He took deep, visible breaths, glancing down at the ground. Then he pinned her with his gaze. “I wouldn't presume to say I could help you forget that day. But…maybe I can help you take a baby step. I can hold Lizzie while you're up there. Rachel, horses and I…we go way back. They tell me their secrets. Lizzie likes you. She told me so.”

He said the last in a whisper, conspiratorially, and Rachel knew he was trying to make her laugh, to distract her from her fears.

She looked up at the pretty horse with the gentle eyes. As if Lizzie understood, she gave a soft whicker.

“I don't know,” Rachel said. “She looks really huge.”

“Shh, you'll hurt her feelings. Lizzie worries that her rear end looks fat in a saddle.”

Rachel couldn't hold back her smile then. “You have a lovely…um…rear end, Lizzie, but you're a bit taller than I am.” Which wasn't saying much. Most people were a bit taller than she was.

Again as if she understood, Lizzie tossed her head. She gave Rachel another one of those sad looks. If she didn't know better, Rachel would have thought that Shane was coaching the pretty creature.

“Will you promise not to let me fall?” she asked Shane.

“No.”

She blinked wide, startled.

“Sometimes you fall when you're on a horse,” he said. “And I hate it when people promise what they can't deliver. Let's just say that I'll do my best to make sure you don't end up facedown in the dirt. And, if you do, I'll pick you up and dust the grass off of you.”

“Ah, Ruby was right that first day. You're a real sweet-talker, Shane,” she said.

He smiled. “You're stalling. And you know you want to try. I'm betting that a belief that trying new things is healthy is one of those handy little sayings you fling about.”

“It's not,” she said. “But it probably should be. Okay, I'm willing to try…once. Show me how to do this,” she told him.

Within a very short time Shane had wandered off and located a pair of boots that were a size too big, but which served the purpose. He had her up on Lizzie's back. “Lizzie's no youngster, so she'll be slow. She won't run off with you.”

In fact Lizzie was standing quietly, seemingly unperturbed to have Rachel on her back. Rachel felt the big animal's muscles shift beneath her and her breath caught in her throat. She reached out to touch Lizzie's back. “I'm counting on you, Lizzie,” she whispered. “No bad surprises.” She'd certainly had enough of those in her life.

“Let's try a leisurely walk down to the corral and back,” Shane said, and he showed her what to do. To Rachel's surprise, Lizzie did just as she was asked.

“Are you giving her some secret commands?” she asked Shane.

He laughed. “She's just responding to
your
com
mands. You're letting her know what you want and she knows the drill.”

Rachel knew that there wasn't anything magical about riding a horse. People had been doing it for years. But there was something so heady about asking her horse partner to take her somewhere and having Lizzie do exactly as she asked. She held the power, she had control in ways she'd rarely ever been in control during her life. Riding this slowly was simple stuff, feeling powerful because of it was silly, and yet…

“I like this,” she said. “I can feel her moving and it's as if we're a team.”

“You
are
a team.”

But they were a slow team, probably a very slow team. Rachel was pretty sure that an experienced person like Shane wouldn't have been moving at anything near this crawl if not for her. “I should be working,” she said suddenly. “I'm keeping you from what you need to do.”

“Not true. The horses are an integral part of the ranch and they need to be exercised. You're helping.”

“If this is as much exercise as Lizzie gets, she's going to start putting on some pounds real soon. Maybe we should go faster.” She couldn't help the hopeful sound in her voice.

Shane laughed. “Not now. Those boots don't even fit you. You might fall if we speed things up.” But they did speed up…just a bit. And she didn't fall.

She fell in love with Lizzie and with horseback riding and with Oak Valley. Beyond that, Rachel refused to think, but when Shane lifted her from the saddle and slid her down to the ground, her body touching his, it was all she could do to keep from wrapping her arms around his neck and begging him to kiss
her. Thank goodness there wasn't too much time left with Shane or there was no question that she was going to be in serious, heart-shattering trouble.

W
HEN
Rachel arrived at Oak Valley the next day, Shane noticed two things. She was wearing his favorite smile and…

“I like the boots,” Shane said. “Did you pick those out all by yourself?”

To his delight, she blushed, just as he'd known she would. Rachel always looked pretty, but when she blushed she was darn near irresistible. Which was a good sign that he shouldn't be trying to make her blush, but…those boots…

“As a matter of fact, I did pick them out,” she said, lifting her chin in a defiant gesture. “I liked the blue flowers curling around the instep. They look pretty against the golden leather, and, yes, I
was
told that they were impractical and that they would get dirty, that they were really more for rodeos and things like that, but I bought them anyway.”

He smiled. “Impulsive. Stubborn.”

She sighed. “Yes, but I bought them because…it's just that I'll probably never have another pair of cowboy boots. If I'm only going to have one…well, you know.”

“You don't seem like the type of woman who allows
anyone to dictate her style. You could wear boots for the rest of your life.”

“I know. But it would be different then. I would just be posturing. These boots are going to be real. I'm going to actually use them. If Lizzie lets me back in the saddle.”

Shane shook his head, confused. “Why wouldn't she?”

Rachel laughed then, that spontaneous, pretty, bell-like sound that turned his body hot. “I think I might have bored her to death yesterday. Next time you show me how to keep her entertained.”

“Entertained?” Shane couldn't hold back his grin. “Rachel, I don't think I've ever met anyone who worried about whether the ranch animals were having fun. Lizzie is a working horse.”

“Who hasn't been working for a while.”

“Can't argue that.”

“Do you think she'll mind getting moved around again when the ranch sells? I mean, she lived here with you, then she got moved to the other stable. Now she's here again. But for how long? Someone might buy her and take her elsewhere. Do you think that horses feel stressed about moving around the way people do?”

Shane hesitated. She had injected the subject of the ranch selling, the only reason they were here and some thing that was quickly coming up on the calendar. And she was right, too. “Yes, I think they do feel stress. Are you trying to guilt me into making sure that Lizzie stays here, Rachel?” Not that he blamed her. The truth was that he
had
felt guilty about moving the horses away from their home.

Rachel looked up, her eyes wide. “I don't know.
I was just wondering. I—seriously, I'm sorry about that.”

“Don't be. You're right. I'll do what I can to make sure this experience is as stress free as possible for them. Now, I have a few things I want to discuss with you this morning. Have a seat.”

She sat, and he noticed the sunlight glinting off her hair. She was as lovely as one of her photos, he thought. He wished he could capture this image and hold it, but…

“Let's discuss the schedule, first of all,” he said, and he told her what he had done and what he had left to do. “The house is looking very inviting. Warm,” he added. “You've made a big difference here.”

“Thank you. I wanted it to feel like a home,” she said softly.

The very words made his heart hurt. This house had never been a home, and he knew from things she'd said in the past how much she wanted one. Louise, his Realtor friend, had called him last night.

“Louise told me that she thinks she's found you an apartment and that you concur.”

“Louise is a genius.”

“She is. So, tell me, what are your plans when you move to Maine?” The days were flying past, and it had occurred to him—several times—that Rachel was root less. She had her dream of a home, but she'd left her job with Dennis. “Do you have another job as a photographer lined up?”

Those brown eyes flickered. “Shane, I think I may have mentioned that I'm not really a pro. You've seen my work. It's adequate, but not more.”

It
was
more.

“In fact,” she said, “I've been meaning to ask—”

Now she looked nervous, her tongue sliding over her lip in a way that was driving him crazy. He took a deep breath. “Ask.”

“Those shots I took of the ranch…I know they're not great and I was wondering if you wanted me to redo any of them. I don't want to fail you.”

That was it. Shane sat down and took her hands in his. “Rachel, I don't need art to sell this ranch. The shots of the ranch are good. If I was going to buy a ranch, your photos would sell me on this one.” He glanced at one she had hung on the wall, the one with the field of flowers. “Who wouldn't want to stare at that every day?” he asked. “But…” He could feel her fingers tense beneath his own. “Who made you so unsure of your talent? Was it that stepmother who nearly killed you?”

“That sounds
über
-dramatic, like Hansel and Gretel.” She was trying to make a joke, to keep it light, and Shane wanted to give her what she wanted, but ever since yesterday he'd known that bad things had happened to her. Her stepmother had sent her onto a roof and he didn't care how “not very high” it had been. It had certainly been high enough to have made her fearful.

“Rachel, you're a trouper. You're a tough one. But…I need to know that you'll be safe and settled when we part. I need to know how you ended up on a roof. And that something like that won't happen to you again. Because I won't be there to try and save you, and that's going to make me insane.”

“Don't,” she said, pulling her hand away. “Don't pity me or feel responsible for me. I don't like even mentioning this stuff. I never tell anyone. But if it will keep you from worrying, I'll tell you this much.
I had…
have
self-absorbed parents who didn't want a child. So, as soon as I was old enough, they sent me to boarding schools. Lots of them. They moved me around on whims. And they married and divorced over and over, always trying to one up each other in the spouse department. I was called home when I might serve a useful purpose, such as sealing a deal with a potential new husband or wife. So,
yes,
there have been some bad moments and one or two bad stepparents. And, yes, my life has been rootless and unpredictable, and I've never stayed in one place long enough to have lasting friendships. But I don't need or want pity or concern. I learned how to make friends fast and how to jump in and figure out how to make each place my own quickly. Above all, I know how to take care of myself.”

“I think that's clear. I'm amazed at how much you've accomplished here.”

“One gets to be self-sufficient.”

“I don't think many people would have such an optimistic outlook as you do. You're an amazing woman, Rachel.”

She looked to the side. “What?” he asked, seeing that she was upset.

“I think you might have really meant that,” she said.

Now he was angry. “Hell, yes, I did. You can't tell me that no one's ever said something similar to you.”

“Dennis did. He said my photos were almost as good as his.”

Little angry fires started in Shane's soul. “Dennis is a snake. And he's wrong about your photos.”

Her head whipped around. “You don't like them?”

He smiled, just a little. “You know I do. What I meant was that I looked Dennis up online. Your photos
put his to shame. Especially the ones with Ella and Henry. Hank showed me what you sent to Marcia last night and…you're amazing with children. You must have taken a hundred shots to catch the perfect expression. They were stunning, far beyond anything Dennis has ever produced. I suspect he knew that you are better than he is.”

She gave a tiny nod, but she didn't look happy despite his compliment.

“So what do you plan to do in Maine?” he asked, getting back to what was worrying him even more now that he knew about her parents.

“I'll land on my feet. I always make sure that I do.”

“That's not good enough.”

“It's all I've got.”

“Then you're selling yourself short.”

“I don't think so. I know what I can and can't do.”

“I don't want to know what you can do. I want to know what you're really
going
to do. Whether you like it or not, I'm going to worry if you're not set up with a way to feed yourself.”

She shrugged. “I'm sorry. I really am. I wish I could tell you, but I'd just be making stuff up. I won't know until I'm there, facing reality.”

“So it's just do or die when you get there? That works for you?”

“Well, it keeps me in food. I'm not dead yet.”

Shane frowned.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was insensitive.”

“Don't. You don't have to muzzle yourself for me. But, yeah, I hate that when you leave here you'll be standing on a ledge waiting to see which side of the drop-off the wind will blow you to. So…how about
this? It's not unusual for writers or artists to have another career to keep them solvent. With your natural way with children you could be a teacher. Maybe an art teacher. You'd be a sure success at something like that, and I just thought…why don't you go to college and explore your options?”

She didn't look convinced. “I did begin college right after I got out of school. My mother stopped paying the bills, and without a loan or a grant I was left hanging. Then she insisted that she was desperately ill and I needed to come home and help her.”

“
Was
she ill?”

“Sort of. She'd had a face-lift and then she'd fallen while she was ignoring the doctor's orders to slow down. So I went home.” The way she said it led Shane to believe that it wasn't the first time something like that had happened.

“She doesn't have servants?”

“When Mother is between husbands she tends to fire her servants. Me, she can't fire. It's why I'm such a hot commodity with the parents when they're between spouses and need someone to listen to them. Anyway, from there we went overseas for a year, and by the time we returned and Mother had met a man, I was two years behind. I got a job at a camera shop and never went back to college. Now it feels too late.”

“You're twenty-five. I've met people who went back in their fifties. People have gone to college in their seventies.”

“It takes money.”

“You'll get a loan.”

“I have to work so that I can eat.”

“So, take classes when you can. In fact…start now.”

Rachel frowned, confused.

“You can get some of your gen eds via web-based classes. Rachel, why not try? You can still keep working at your craft—it would be a total shame for the world to lose your art—but security can also be a very good thing.”

“Says the man who changes addresses every six weeks.”

“True. But I
am
always gainfully employed when I move.”

“Touché. I'm seldom gainfully employed, even though I'd like to be.”

“The world needs more people like you at the helm, Rachel. More spit in the eye people, more enthusiastic people. Some lucky employer is going to be fortunate to get you.”

“I don't know. I've gone to so many schools. I—”

“Is that it? Because you're not coming in as a freshman you'll feel like the new girl again?”

“I—yes.”

“That's the beauty of college. People transfer all the time. Go to a big school. Lots of other people are guaranteed to be new, too. You won't be the only one. Just…think about it.”

She didn't answer.

“Rachel?”

“I'm thinking about it,” she said. “Seriously. I'm thinking about it.”

Apparently that was as good an answer as he was going to get, Shane realized. He wanted to be happy with that answer. For her sake he would have to accept it.

But happy?

No. He couldn't be happy knowing that Rachel could simply disappear off the face of the earth and
there wasn't a thing he could do about it. That had happened to him before.

This situation with Rachel might not be life or death, but having her vanish and be swallowed up where he might never even be able to locate her still promised to be incredibly painful.

 

Rachel was trying not to think about the fact that she had spilled her guts to Shane. She'd never done that before and now she felt naked. Uncertain. So she was throwing herself into work, trying to avoid the big questions about his suggestion, but mostly…him.

The calendar days were dropping off. Goodbye was right around the corner and she didn't want to think about it. So today she'd tackle one of her last cleaning tasks. She had almost worked her way to the back of the massive hallway closet, which housed decades of coats, mittens and hats. Boxes of greasy tools shared shelf space with old jelly jars with no lids. Torn and yellowed journals on ranching contained articles on such subjects as the pros and cons of different types of fencing.

“Pitch it all,” Shane had said whenever she'd asked him about anything she found in the various storage spaces in the house.

And she was in the process of doing just that when she came upon a large black lacquered box with an ivory scrimshaw cameo of a woman set into the lid. When she opened it up it smelled faintly of tea, as if that was what had once been housed there. But there was no tea in the box, just lots and lots of packets of seeds. The box was so full that when Rachel opened it some of them fell out. Phlox and pinks, zinnias and sunflowers, columbine and daisies, delphiniums and
marigolds. The once brightly colored packets were slightly faded now, and a few of them were opened. She took them out and spread them out on the table. At the bottom of the box were charts outlining where each plant would find a home.