Five
Sunday morning Holly finished feeding Emma her breakfast of oatmeal and juice, then set her down on a pallet to play with her five-note legless piano, her favorite toy.
“Aren’t you late for your date?” Amanda asked as she refilled her coffee cup. “It’s after eight o’clock.”
“I told you, Amanda, it isn’t a date. And we really didn’t set a time.” Holly stepped into the bathroom and began braiding her hair. “Are you sure you’re willing to watch Emma on a Sunday?”
“Absolutely. As hard as you work, you deserve to enjoy a day off now and then. Anyway Slanders Ridge is coming on at two. That’s about when Emma takes her nap. I’ll just let her doze on the couch with me. We’ll be fine. Go. Enjoy your day. With that hunk, how could you not?”
Holly took in a deep breath and sighed. She was separated from Emma too much during a normal workweek. She hated missing a day with her on a weekend. The guilt weighed heavily. But this was only one day. Not even an entire day. And how often did she get an opportunity to go riding with Chance? She would make it up to Emma. Definitely.
She hadn’t made it out the door when her cell went off. Chance.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning to you. Are you ready for that ride?”
“Definitely.”
“I’ll see you at the barn.”
“On my way.”
With a hug for Amanda and a kiss for Emma, Holly slipped on her boots, pulled the jean pant legs down over the boot tops and she was ready. “I’ll see you later.”
“Be careful. Have fun.”
The increased volume of the television drowned out anything else that might have been said.
Stepping into the barn, she saw no sign of Chance. She walked down the main aisle to the big gray gelding that nickered when he saw her. She grabbed the halter that hung on the stall door, slipped it on and led him to the grooming area next to the tack room.
“Good morning,” Chance said as he walked inside the barn a few minutes later. His deep voice sounded husky, as though he’d just awakened. His short dark hair was in disarray. He was wearing jeans and a blue sleeveless shirt, unbuttoned and hanging from his broad shoulders. The sculptured muscles of his chest and abs were amazing.
“Good morning to you.”
Holding his coffee cup in one hand, Chance sidled toward her, approaching the gray horse cautiously as if he was afraid his presence would startle it.
“I didn’t know we had any thoroughbreds.”
“I don’t think you do. This is Sinbad and he’s mine. He’s actually a thoroughbred-Arabian mix. Cole lets me keep him here in exchange for being on call for the ranch but I pay for his food.”
Chance ran his hand over the velvety neck. “He’s nice.”
Holly smiled. “Thanks.”
Chance nodded his head in approval. “Well, I guess I need to catch up.”
Stretching his arms, he walked to the center aisle, scanning the horses. He selected a big bay quarter horse that nickered to him as he passed, a good indication he was ready to leave his stall for a while. With the efficiency gained over a lifetime, Chance quickly brushed down then saddled the gelding.
“Do you need any help?” he asked, returning to Holly, leading the bay behind him.
“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” She threw a red plaid saddle blanket onto Sinbad’s back, then followed with a Western saddle. She tightened the girth, switched from a halter to a bridle and was ready to go.
Holly couldn’t help but notice that Chance seemed to hesitate before climbing into the saddle. She’d forgotten he’d been wounded.
“Chance, if you’re still recovering, we don’t have to do this. Don’t do anything that might set your recovery back.”
Absently he rubbed his left arm. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it and he was right. Talking wouldn’t make it heal any faster and the last thing he needed was pity. Still...
“You might tear cartilage or undo the healing. It isn’t worth the risk.”
He looked out over the vast pastureland. “Yeah, it is.”
The gelding was spirited and anxious to get started, but had been well trained, as had his rider. The horse stood in place while Chance jumped up, slid his left boot in the stirrup and threw his right leg over the saddle. He looked back at Holly. “We’re good. Let’s go.”
Gathering the reins, he directed the bay toward the main gate that led to the bulk of the ranch land. Holly was happy to follow. They headed west, toward the river. Neither seemed inclined to talk. It was a day to relax and enjoy and Chance seemed intent on fully taking advantage of being here. Holly sensed he needed the quiet so she rode along next to him without attempting conversation.
They rode for miles. Spring rain had made the rolling pastures a deep, rich green. Chance appeared to visibly relax as they rode farther into the trees that dotted the land. Eventually they topped a rise and saw the river below. She could hear the sound of rushing water over the rock bed.
“Want to stop for a while?” She hoped he wouldn’t think she was mothering him, even if she was.
“Yeah,” he replied. “We can do that. I remember...there. On that gray boulder. You and Jason and I would sit and talk. Remember?”
“Yes. About girls.” She rolled her eyes but was pleased he remembered. A lot of life had been discussed on that boulder. Past worries laid to rest; future dreams shared. Sometimes she’d been allowed to go along.
“How old were you back then?”
She thought for a moment. “I think around nine, maybe ten. You and Jason were still in high school. Aunt Ida used to make Jason take me with him. He would get so mad.” Holly had to smile at the memory. Gosh, how she missed Jason. Aunt Ida, too.
Dismounting, they tethered the horses and climbed onto the large rock that jutted out over the water. The shade of the oak and cottonwood trees was cool on her back. The sound of the rushing water was always melodic and relaxing. Soon Chance sat down next to her.
“Remember when we all used to come here thinking we could catch fish for supper?”
He chuckled. “Yes. And if memory serves, we did catch some once. They weren’t as big as your hand but you insisted on taking them home anyway.”
“Your chef looked at that stringer as though he was being asked to panfry a snake.”
“I know. But the guy tried. Then after one bite you determined they were uneatable.” Chance laughed. “Double whammy. Poor man.”
“Didn’t he quit not long after that?”
“Yeah, he did.”
Holly lay back on the rock. The radiant warmth felt good.
Chance chuckled. “Do you still have the old shoe?” he asked, referring to a centuries-old high-top shoe they’d found inside the remnants of an old cabin.
“Yep. It’s wrapped in tissue and inside a ziplock bag. It seems a shame to keep it tucked away. I mean, it would be nice to display it somewhere, but I’m so afraid something might happen to it. I wish we could have found the other one.”
“So do I. That was definitely one of our better finds.”
“Yes. That and the compass.” Holly glanced over at Chance. “Do you still have it?”
“Yeah. And Jason brought the razor and the musket balls over to the house before he left for college. It’s hard to believe part of the Civil War took place in our own pasture. I wonder if the old cabin on the rise is still standing.”
“I doubt it. But maybe we can check it out before you...while you’re here.”
There was a lull in the conversation. Then...
“How old is your baby?”
She rolled toward him, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Fourteen months,” she answered without any hesitation.
Chance lay on the boulder, one boot crossed over his raised knee, his hands threaded under his head, his eyes closed as he doubtlessly listened to the peacefulness around him.
“She’s Jason’s daughter. You do know that, right?”
He looked over at her. “No. I didn’t have any idea.”
“His wife died giving birth a few months after Jason was killed. Carolyn didn’t have any family so I brought Emma home. When I look at her I see a little bit of Jason. But Emma is a person in her own right. She’s so smart she’s a handful. You work to keep up with that one.”
Chance rolled toward her, his head propped on his hand. She looked into those smoky-blue eyes and wanted to drown in them. She saw his pupils widen as he gazed at her with serious intent.
She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to know how he tasted, how his hot breath would feel on her skin, how his big hands would feel when they touched her. He was so sexy, so handsome. Most of all, he was Chance. He’d saved her from school bullies, taught her to ride a bicycle, then bandaged her knee when she took a tumble. She’d loved him when he’d signed up and joined the navy and had never stopped thinking of him in the twelve long years he’d been gone. He wasn’t the same man she’d known then. Wherever he’d been, whatever he’d been doing had changed him from the happy-go-lucky cowboy, defying his billionaire status, into a hardened warrior. Clearly he was used to being in command.
“I’m surprised you’re not married.” she said, feeling a bit awkward for some reason.