Chapter Nine
I woke at six, as eager as a schoolgirl Christmas morning. When I remembered what I was so excited about, I buried my head under my pillow with a groan.
In spite of all my self-talk about it simply being a ride with a new friend, I was more upbeat than I should be. I needed to squash those feelings.
Maybe if I visualized Rodrigo as a woman?
I contorted my brain to create the image and the result wasn’t even close to pretty. In fact, I had to stifle my laugh or risk waking Liz in the next bed.
For the next half hour, I tossed and turned, trying to think of anything other than the upcoming ride. At six-thirty, I gave it up and carefully got out of the bed, so I didn’t wake my sister. It probably didn’t matter. Liz slept more soundly than either Diane or I.
Slipping into the shower, I took time—and a good chunk of the hot water—to thoroughly clean myself and wash my hair. I even made the effort to shave, not that there was as much bodily hair as there used to be.
Clean as a whistle, I wrapped a towel around me and exited the shower room. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the RV and I could hear someone stumbling around the front room. Diane must be up.
Returning to the back room, I could see that Liz had managed to turn herself to the wall, but her chest still rose and fell in steady rhythms. I hoped Walter was a late riser. Nothing worse than a night owl and morning lark living together.
After dressing quickly, I returned to the front. Diane had put her bed back together and was enjoying her coffee and morning scroll through the news on her phone. About a third of the way through the trip, I’d offered to swap places with Diane so she didn’t have to put her bed back together every morning, but she said it was preferable to bunking with Liz.
Neither of us wanted Liz, with all her attendant clutter, to take over the front room.
“Morning,” I said, reaching for a mug.
“You’re up early,” she commented .
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said.
“Just have a good time. You like riding. You always have.”
“I’ll probably do something dumb like fall off the horse,” I said, actually considering it a possibility.
“You’ll be fine. It’s going to be a beautiful morning. I’m almost jealous.”
“But not quite. What’s on your agenda?” I asked.
“Not much. I’m feeling lazy this morning. I’ll call Joe later. I miss him.”
“I thought he was going to try to get down here in February?”
Diane shook his head. “His agent wants his second book done by the beginning of March. He’s having trouble with the ending.”
“That’s too bad,” I said. I enjoyed watching Diane and Joe together. They were sweet, experiencing the chance at love they’d missed in high school.
Walter and Liz were another matter. They were two high-strung people who somehow fit together in a way I’d never understand.
“I think we’re on our own for breakfast,” I said. “Liz is dead to the world.”
“She didn’t get home from the studio until late last night,” Diane said. “You’d already gone to bed. She didn’t wake you?”
“No,” I said. I’d vaguely heard her come in, but had feigned sleep. “I had a really good night’s rest.” At least I’d have a small sin to add to confession.
I cracked a couple of eggs into a frying pan and started some toast. Riding took more energy than it looked like, and I wanted to be prepared.
Or at least as much as I could be.
~ ~ ~
I pulled into Rodrigo’s place right at nine when I said I’d be there. He wanted to get an early start, saying morning and evening were the best times for a ride in hill country.
He came out to greet me as soon as I turned off the car. He was dressed in worn jeans, a soft flannel shirt, and a light jacket with a pair of well-used cowboy boots on his feet.
As soon as he reached me, he opened the door and extended a hand to help me out. I took it to be polite and was a bit dismayed to find I enjoyed placing my hand in his.
“You look very nice,” he said, examining the clean blouse, too- snug jeans, and boots I had on—boots that were much more worn than the pair he sported. The jacket I had over my arm, one of my old Carhartt models, also bore the signs of hard use.
I squared my shoulders. The hell with it. I wasn’t a rich cattle rancher, no use pretending to be one.
“Got everything?” he asked.
“Yep,” I said.
He closed the car door behind me.
“The horses are in the corral by the barn,” he said. “You said you wanted to saddle your own horse, but I had the wrangler lay out the tack.”
“Thanks.”
Rodrigo handed me a rope lead. “I may have to get her for you.”
“Let me try first.”
“Of course.”
I entered the corral, and instantly both horses were alert, their ears pricking forward as they stared at me. Rodrigo was a known entity, so they didn’t pay him much attention.
Stepping carefully and keeping eye contact with Star, I started murmuring to her, to reassure her I wasn’t a threat. With the lead coiled in my right hand, I held out the apple slices I’d brought with me in my left.
She shifted her weight and Rodrigo’s horse took a step closer to him.
“That’s a pretty girl,” I said rhythmically. “I’m no threat. We’ll be good. That’s a good girl. Apples, girl. You like apples. That’s a good girl.”
I was a few feet away when Star gave a snort and shuffled sideways. After pausing a few moments, I continued to walk toward her.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move.
I stopped and held my flat hand out a little farther.
Then I waited.
Star let out a heavy breath. She shifted from one side to the other, then stretched out her neck to catch the aroma of whatever I held in my hand.
Finally, she took a tentative step forward, then another.
Her breath was warm on my skin as she investigated, then I was rewarded by the soft touch of her nose as she retrieved the apple.
I quietly snapped on the lead.
“There’s a good girl,” I told her, rubbing my hand on her neck and withers.
She arched her neck around and pushed against my shoulder.
“Yes, Star. You and I are going to get along just fine.”
I smiled over at Rodrigo.
He was beaming.
The lead already on his horse, he strode to the barn.
I followed, clucking to Star all the way. Every few feet she nuzzled my shoulder as if to say, “I’m here, you ninny.”
“Nice set-up,” I said when we reached the saddling area. Everything was clean, well-organized and within reach. The thought of the disarray in my own barn made me shudder.
“They shouldn’t need a whole lot of brushing,” Rodrigo said. “My wrangler saw to them this morning.”
“Got it,” I said, as I walked around Star, rubbing my hand on her sides, rear, and legs. I was letting her know she was safe with me and where I was at all times. The movement of her ears indicated she was following my progress.
“Good girl,” I said when I was done. I grabbed a curry and made sure the area where the saddle would sit was free of any debris that would irritate her, then followed up with a brush.
“You’re a careful horsewoman,” Rodrigo said. “I like that.”
“I can’t imagine being any other way, especially with an animal this beautiful. But they all deserve good treatment. I can’t abide someone who mistreats animals.”
“Me either.”
I looked over, and we smiled at each other, a moment of connection between friends.
~ ~ ~
Not long after, we were saddled up and on our way. Rodrigo said he’d laid out a path that would take us to almost the full extent of the ranch, about a two-hour ride.
“Unless anything unexpected happens,” he said. “Or I find a bad fence.” He pointed to his saddlebag. “I always carry tools with me.”
“Good planning,” I said. “Don’t know what it is about fences, but they need mending more than they should.”
“Yes. I think there must be a chaneque who delights in watching humans fix things over and over again,” he said.
“A chaneque?”
“Kind of like an imp. ”
I chuckled. “It’s as good a reason as any.”
“Yes,” he said.
We rode in silence for a while. I concentrated on Star, determining how she liked to be guided. Her gait and motion under the saddle were as smooth as Rodrigo had indicated.
“When we get over that rise, we can let them go. Then you’ll really see her in action. Arabians are like the wind,” he said.
“Why Arabians?” I asked.
“My father was in World War II. He enlisted as soon as he could which was toward the end of the war, wanting to fight for his country. When the army found out he knew horses inside and out, they sent him to Oran, Algeria, to serve with the 28th Cavalry Regiment, the last cavalry regiment we ever had. While he was there, he got to see Arabians being ridden across the desert by tribes of nomads. He thought they were the most majestic animals he’d ever seen. He never stopped talking about them.”
“That must have been amazing. Terrible that he was in the war, but wonderful that he’d had that experience.”
“Our family has always served,” he said. “It’s a tradition to enlist right out of high school. I did my tour in the aftermath of Vietnam.” His moustache drooped along with his expression. “It was a bad time to be in the army. The disarray after the evacuation of Saigon reverberated for years.”
“Has your son served as well?”
Rodrigo nodded. “He won’t talk about it much. He went to the Middle East.”
“We have that in common,” I said. “My son, Patrick, served there as well. He thought he was going to be career army, but the life became too much for his wife, especially when their second child came along.”
“Our children had a hard war.”
“Yes.”
We rode the rest of the way to the ridge in silence. Once there, he looked over at me. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Good. I’ll race you to the oak tree there. I’ll even give you a head start.”
“I don’t need a head start,” I taunted him. “I’ll win anyway.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said. “Ha!” He leaned forward and waved the end of the reins by the horse’s head.
At almost the same instant, I squeezed with my knees and yelled, “ Go, girl! We’re not letting any man beat us!”
Rodrigo had a slight lead, but my girl had heart. With me crouched low on her back, we slowly drew even, then edged ahead.
As soon as we reached the oak, I circled her around it, my arm in the air.
I almost didn’t see the branch coming, but I ducked just in time. Unfortunately, the sharp movement unbalanced me, loosening my foot from one of the stirrups.
Down I went, kicking my boot free of the second stirrup as I went down.
“Oof!” The wind was knocked out of me as I landed on the hard ground. As I stared up at the blue sky, I wondered why the O’Sullivan sisters always took a literal tumble when they were around men.
As long as all I did was hit the ground, I’d be safe.
A fall of any other kind could upend my life.
“You okay?” Rodrigo asked, leaping off his horse and rushing over to me.
“I will be,” I said, mentally checking for any injuries besides my pride. “I’m tougher than I look.” I grinned up at him.
Star moseyed over and nudged my ribs with her nose, blowing air in and out and checking me over with her whiskers, her brown eyes concerned.
I was going to seriously fall in love with this horse.
“You sure you’re okay?” Rodrigo asked.
The man was another story.
“I’m pretty sure.” I struggled to sit up, and he put his hand on my back to help.
“Nice and easy,” he said. “At our age, a bump can do a lot of damage.”
Even though I was trying to tough it out, I could feel some aches making themselves known. Plus the ground wasn’t as warm as the sun-tempered air around us.
Rodrigo helped me to my feet.
I couldn’t stifle the groan.
“Should we head back?” he asked.
“No!” I cried. “Absolutely not!”
“I was hoping you’d say that. But do you want to rest?”
I dredged up my most scornful expression. “Do you think I’m old or something?” I asked.
He stared at me, his expression unsure.
“Or something?” he asked .
“You better believe it,” I said, letting a grin burst forth. This was a test. Would he get my sense of humor? It was a key quality I needed in my friends.
Very few people got my ironic point of view.
But Rodrigo grinned.
“Yep,” he said. “You are something. I’m going to have to get to know you better to find out just what that something is.”
“Well, you’re going to need to speed it up, because we aren’t here very long.”
“I’ll do my damnedest.”
His smile was genuine, the kind that went all the way to his eyes which crinkled under his thick eyebrows. It was a good face, worn with time, but the lines etched were ones of joy and integrity. I instinctively knew he was someone I could trust.
I led Star over to a branch of the tree that lay on the ground. After testing it to see if it could bear weight, I stood on it and clambered back on the horse.
Star looked around as I adjusted myself and made sure my feet were firmly in the stirrups.
“Good girl,” I murmured and patted her neck.
Thank goodness the RV park came with a hot tub. I was going to need it tonight.
Rodrigo came up beside me, and we headed down the fence line.
“How long has the ranch been in your family?” I asked him as we rode.
“Many generations,” he said. “Of course it has changed a lot since the mid-1750s when the first Spanish ranches began. The size of our holdings grew and shrank then grew again, depending on who we had to share the land with. The Comanches were tough warriors who didn’t like the idea that we were settling here.”
“Probably can’t blame them.”
“No, but it is often the way of humans. We’re a migratory animal. Tribes pushed each other out of places all the time. Where did they even come from? There are so many theories, even beyond their own origin tales.”
I knew what he was saying was true, even if it didn’t make me entirely comfortable.
“We’re going through another great migration period for the same reasons people have always moved. Africa is being devastated by climate change. People can no longer grow enough food for themselves. And harsh regimes as well as the opposite—lawlessness— force people to leave to seek a better life.” He shrugged. “Or sometimes we move because the grass looks greener on the other side.” He looked over at me. “We humans can be a dissatisfied lot.” Then he frowned. “I hope I didn’t upset you. You seem like a woman I can be truthful with, and not pick my words.”
I considered that. I wanted the freedom to talk without censorship. It was a pleasure I rarely allowed myself these days, the exchange of thoughts with others, even those who didn’t agree with me. Too often, though, I held back, unsure if my comments would start a conversation or a diatribe.
I nodded. “I think I’m okay with that.”
“Bueno . It will be a refreshing change.”
“Of course,” I said. “You may not always like what I have to say.”
“I’m strong enough to deal with it.” He chuckled. “In fact, I’m very interested in your thoughts. It’s been a long time since I met a woman—or anyone—who wasn’t afraid of her own opinions.”
I had to look away. On the surface, it seemed like nothing. But underneath it felt like a strikingly intimate conversation.
Fortunately, I noted a distraction.
“You’ve got some loose wires over there.” I pointed to a portion of the barbed wire that was sagging.
“Good spotting,” he said as he dismounted. I did the same, pulling my new work gloves from my jacket.
“You brought gloves?” he asked.
“Never go anywhere without them.”
He nodded. “True rancher.”
I helped him tighten up the wire. He looked at the fencepost, deciding it was solid, and it was simply the wires that had sagged.
Shortly after we left the spot, we rode up on a knoll. The view from the top was breathtaking: rolling hills that went on for miles. Live oaks stood sentinel on some, but some were as bare as a baby’s bottom.
“You should be here the end of March, beginning of April,” he said. “Bluebonnets as far as you can see. I always take a day and come up here for an afternoon, just taking in God’s miracle.”
“Sounds lovely,” I said. I wanted to ask him if he came up here on his own or with a woman, but I didn’t. “In Montana, we have moments like that, but it comes later. It depends on when the snow decides to leave. You can go up to some of the higher elevations at just the right moment, and the meadows are carpeted with wildflowers, yellows and indigo blues. There are patches of tall bear grass on the lower elevations in May that climb higher in altitude as the spring moves into summer.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything, as we both sat comfortably with our memories for a while.
“I like being with you, Kathleen O’Sullivan,” he said suddenly.
Surprise kept my mouth shut.
He shuffled a little, then patted me on the arm. “You don’t have to say anything. I just felt like I needed to say it. Shall we go on?”
I nodded.
We went down a narrow trail with Rodrigo leading. I was just as glad.
It had been a simple statement. Nothing to it, right? It wasn’t even that he likes me .
He probably likes being around his dog too.
But my senses, as dulled as they were after a forty-year marriage, knew that wasn’t the case. Without even trying, I’d stepped over a line I hadn’t intended to cross.
Trixie Lynn wasn’t going to be happy.
“What do you think, Star? Am I making Montana mountains out of Texas hills?”
Star snorted and shook her head.
“You’re not reassuring me, horse,” I said.
Star stayed silent.
There was another problem.
In spite of the little time we’d spent together, I enjoyed his company more than any man in my life, including Michael.
Especially Michael.
Definitely Michael at the end of our marriage.
I’d been outraged when I found out what he’d been doing. Some instinct had kept me from ever giving him access to my trust fund, keeping that safe for the kids’ education and our eventual old age. But for him to play sleight-of-hand with the ranch funds had been unforgiveable.
I would have rather he’d spent the last decade with a woman on the side.
Star sensed my unease, and her skin quivered under the saddle.
“It’s okay, girl. I’m just mad at things that are in the past. Dumb, huh?”
I got another nicker. Star and I were definitely on the same wavelength .
The path broadened out. With a gentle press of my knees, I brought Star up next to Rodrigo’s horse.
“Tell me about your ranch,” Rodrigo said. “I’m curious about how our outfits differ.”
My laugh came out more like a snort.
“We ranch on a much smaller scale. We can only graze one cow and calf unit per acre. It’s just not as lush as it is here,” I said.
“We can get about twice that,” he admitted.
“And our house and outbuildings?” I shook my head. “I can’t remember the last time they had a good makeover. We can only afford to do the bare minimum.”
“Then why do you continue?”
I took a moment to figure out how to answer that.
“What do you know about the British and the Irish conflict?” I asked.
“Not much.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “I couldn’t tell you word one about Spanish or Mexican history. We were brought up with Irish stories, wild St. Patrick’s Days in Butte, and green beer. The Irish were always wonderful good Catholics, and the British nasty land-grabbing Protestants.”
Rodrigo laughed. “History created by public relations giants on both sides of the question, no doubt. It’s been the same with the US and Mexico.”
“I realized that at the Alamo. But true or false, Ireland was the mother country, and land was our birthright that had been stolen.” I shrugged. “By the time we got to Montana, other Europeans had made a good start on taking the land from the Native Americans, and whenever they were ready to sell it to us, we were ready to take it, no matter how hardscrabble it was. It wasn’t any worse than potato land on the Emerald Isle, and it belonged to us.”
“So you can’t leave,” Rodrigo said.
“Not can’t. Won’t. I won’t give up my family’s land. Not for anyone.” I surprised myself by how vehement I was.
He nodded. “I understand. I feel the same way.”
Another strand of connection threaded between us.
For the rest of the way back to the ranch, our topics became less serious. He pointed out some of the improvements he was making and the remains of the original homestead, but we also talked about music, favorite holidays, and pets we’d loved.
I told him how much I was enjoying Star, and how envious I was that he had her.
And I made sure I stayed on for the rest of the ride.
~ ~ ~
After we’d taken care of the horses, he invited me for lunch. I tried to protest, but I didn’t put a lot of effort into it, especially after he told me Antonia, his housekeeper/cook, had made chicken enchiladas and mixed a salad.
I couldn’t refuse to eat after another woman had spent her time cooking. Although Liz’s cooking lessons had never taken, I still understood how much work it took.
“Thank you so much … gracias,” I told Antonia as I took my place at the table.
“It’s not a problem. I love to cook for se?or’s guests …” She gave Rodrigo a look. “Most of them.”
He shook his head and spoke rapid Spanish.
She waved him off and returned moments later with two plates mounded with enchiladas. The salad was already on the table, along with a pitcher of ice cold water.
“Unless you’d like something stronger,” he said.
“No. Water’s perfect.”
He nodded and they dug in.
“This is amazing,” I said after a few bites. It was a perfect meld of sweet, savory, and spicy.
“It’s one of her best dishes,” he said. “I’m glad you like it. Be sure to tell her. She takes great pride in her cooking.”
“I certainly will.”
“Will you come golfing with me?”
“Golfing?” My fork clattered to the table. “You golf?”
“Si. It is a great sport.”
“I don’t golf.” I’d never had any desire to do so.
“Even better,” he said. “That will give me an excuse to teach you.”
I thrust my fork into a piece of enchilada. How was I going to get out of this in a way that didn’t offend him?