Never Let You Go

“Out on the porch, before breakfast. I was going to explain, truly, but I blurted out that we’d start at ten and he assumed I was going to go back to bed or something. So I told him we couldn’t start earlier because I had to get a manicure.”

Melissa laughed. “You’ve never had a manicure. I tried to paint your nails once, and you screamed as if I were torturing you.”

“Do you think you have to remind me? It was a silly answer, but it was the most decadent thing I could think of.”

“Well,” Melissa began, putting an arm around Beth’s shoulders, “I think you might need to do some fence-mending of your own, in addition to the real fences, while you’re out there with him this morning.”

“Yeah,” Beth agreed glumly, and went to fetch her hat and gloves.

Outside the barn, she selected two horses, one a sturdy, rawboned roan that could easily carry Jed’s big body. For herself, she chose a part Appaloosa mare she’d named Snowdrop. After putting bridles on them, she tied them to the corral fence and went into the barn to fetch the rest of the gear.

Much to her surprise, she almost ran into Jed in the shadowy interior. He was saddling one of his horses.

“You don’t need to ride him. I’ve got a horse in the corral for you.”

“I always ride my own horses.” His no-nonsense response irritated her again.

Taking a deep breath, she said calmly, “It’s your choice. Me, I wouldn’t work my horse after traveling with him, unless I had to.”

Without waiting for a response, she moved on to the tack room. Lifting down her saddle and the blan ket that went with it, she turned around to discover Jed standing in the doorway.

“You’ve got a point,” he said, though she heard the reluctance in his voice. “Okay if I use my own gear?”

“Of course.” She wasn’t about to let him see that she enjoyed his capitulation. He followed her back into the autumn sunshine and she indicated the roan.

“That’s Buster. He’s no racehorse, but he has a steady gait and he’s dependable.”

“Thanks.”

After throwing the blanket on Snowdrop, she put the saddle in place, then began buckling and cinching.

“You do that like you were born to it,” Jed offered after watching her.

“I was nine when we came here to live. Aunt Beulah didn’t waste any time teaching us about ranch life. And she didn’t suffer fools gladly.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jed returned, saddling Buster.

Beth almost burst into laughter. If he’d tried, he couldn’t have come closer to the dry retorts that had punctuated Beulah’s long silences.

It had taken the girls several years to realize what a softy Beulah was beneath that stern exterior. But she wasn’t one to wear her feelings on her sleeve. And she didn’t believe in spoiling children. They received practical gifts on their birthdays. And warm hugs.

That same behavior was repeated at Christmas.

Though she wasn’t effusive, Beulah made them feel welcome. She fed them, clothed them, and made sure they attended school. And most important of all, she made it possible for them to stay together.

So Beth gave no response to Jed’s comment, other than to give him a sunny smile that seemed to surprise him. And that surprise alone was enough to keep her cheerful for a while.

They’d been riding for an hour. Not in companionable silence, but at least they hadn’t had an argument. Finally Jed decided he should make use of their time together.

“Tell me why you want to barrel race.”

She seemed startled by his question.

He waited, giving her a few minutes to pull herself together.

“It’s the main event open to women.”

“Others are opening up. There’s a small circuit only for cowgirls here in Texas.”

She nodded. “When I first thought of it, I wanted to ride because of the money. It seemed we never had enough. Melissa was dreaming of a dishwasher. Abby talked about wanting to increase our irrigation system. Aunt Beulah didn’t ever indulge herself. I wanted—I wanted a lot of things.” With a sigh, she sent him another smile. “I saw myself in the role of triumphant savior.”

“And now?”

“Now, Aunt Beulah is dead, and, much to our surprise, the three of us have a lot of money. Aunt Beulah had put away oil money from earlier years that we didn’t know about. But I want to prove myself, to be the best at something. Melissa, well, you’ve eaten her cooking. She’s a natural-born nester, willing to mother the world. And Abby, she’s an expert on ranching. After working hard all day, she spends her evening reading the ranching magazines, even textbooks on grazing, breeding.”

He didn’t want to hear this. He’d be a lot better off if he could keep believing she was weak, lazy, selfish, vain. All those things he’d assumed before he’d met her.

All those things she’d disproved every minute he spent with her. She was beautiful, but seemed unaware of it. A hard worker, but took it for granted. Concerned for her sisters, but seemed not to worry about herself.

“So you decided to take up barrel racing?”

She sent him an impish grin that had his heart beating faster. Didn’t she know how much he was affected by her lips? Or her tight body, moving with the rhythm of her horse?

“Well, I happen to like riding fast.”

“And winning?”

“That, too,” she added, her smile widening.

“And satin shirts?”

“If I admit to that, are you going to condemn me?” she asked, her expression now wary.

He looked away as he shook his head no.

“You see, Beulah didn’t think clothes were very important. And I was the youngest, so I never got anything new. Abby and Melissa wore them first.” Then she shook her head. “That’s not true. Occasionally, they were too hard on the clothes and they’d be worn out by the time Melissa had finished with them. I’ll never forget the one time I got a new pair of jeans.” This time she beamed at him, and he groaned under his breath. He had to stop hearing these confidences before he swept her into his arms and promised her anything her heart desired.

A peal of laughter surprised him. He looked at her again.

“I was so proud of my new jeans, I insisted on wearing them while we were riding fence line. And I ripped one leg into shreds on a barbed wire fence.”

“Why was that so funny?”

She chuckled again. “Oh, it’s hard to explain. I was afraid to face Aunt Beulah, but she just told me to take them off, and she spent the rest of the evening sewing them up again.”

“She sounds like a fine lady,” he said, still not understanding her laughter.

“Sometimes you remind me of her.”