Chapter 14
14
At ten the next morning, having been out for an early run and then showered and dressed herself carefully in too-new jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, Madison searched the back of her closet for boots, hoping to find leftovers from her riding days at boarding school or in college.
There were none, because, unlike Coralee and her predecessors, Madison didn’t save things unless they had sentimental value or might actually continue to be useful in some way.
Therefore, she had to settle for an old pair of Converse, black with grungy white laces.
She was going to look like a rube, out there riding the open range with Liam and the two little McKettricks, who would all be correctly outfitted, she knew, with sturdy gear, as in proper boots. Most likely, the kids would have helmets too.
Sneakers, on the other hand, were a greenhorn’s choice; the danger of getting a foot caught in a stirrup and then being dragged over hill, dale, thorn bush and gopher hole was much greater, since the soles were slick and flat.
That was why Western boots had heels, she thought, in self-lecturing mode, even though she didn’t usually beat herself up. In Madison’s experience, there were plenty of people in the outside world ready to rise to that particular challenge.
After settling a beat-up blue baseball cap on her head and pulling her still-damp-from-the-shower ponytail through the gap in back, she huffed out a sigh, descended the back stairs and collected her purse and the keys to the Bentley from the hooks on the pantry door.
She’d applied sunscreen upstairs, along with a swipe of mascara to her upper lashes, but that was the extent of her makeup.
She wanted to have fun today—she’d be with Liam, and she hadn’t ridden a horse in way too long—so she wasn’t going for glamor.
Not that she hadn’t been tempted, but practicality won out.
This would be an active day, and she would probably sweat.
Perspiration and haute couture cosmetics didn’t make for a good mix, so she skipped the Dior and Chanel lipsticks, foundations, blushers and eye shadows she’d bought for her almost-marriage and nonexistent honeymoon.
For now.
Besides, she didn’t want Liam to think she wanted him to like what he saw when he looked at her, even though that was true.
Shaking her head at her own nonsense, Madison let herself out the back door, locked it behind her, and crossed the sunporch to the screen door.
Just for a moment, standing there on the back step, poised to head for the garage, she felt an odd, fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach, which stopped her where she was.
Madison would have sworn someone was watching her, and she scanned the edge of the woods, eyes narrowed in alert concentration.
She saw nothing, heard nothing.
But the experience yielded one benefit: she had a few moments to remember the salad she’d made earlier, and the coconut cake she’d baked the night before.
She went back inside to collect them, both already packed in their specially designed plastic containers, carried them as far as the battered jute doormat, and set them down on a bench long enough to relock the back door.
The sense of another person lurking just out of sight had passed by then, and Madison put it out of her mind.
Today promised to be a very good day, and she meant to enjoy every minute of it. She made sure the sealed salad bowl and the cake carrier were stationary in the back seat of the Bentley, buzzed open the garage door, got into the car and backed out.
And nearly ran right over a small gray dog, sitting with forlorn resignation in the middle of her driveway.
Madison muttered, jammed the Bentley into Park, shut off the engine and got out to approached the little dog, slowing her steps so she wouldn’t scare him—or her—any more than she already had.
“Hey, fella,” she crooned, crouching. “Where did you come from?”
The dog’s eyes were mournful, and Madison felt a sharp pinch in her heart.
He—or she—looked considerably the worse for wear, fur matted, nails overgrown, tongue lolling.
There was no collar, so no tags.
“Looks like you’ve been on your own for a while,” Madison said gently, tentatively stretching out a hand to pat the dog’s head. “Wait here while I get you some water and something to eat, okay?”
The dog gave a tiny whimper, but didn’t move.
For the second time that morning, Madison went back into the house.
There, she grabbed some sliced lunch meat from the refrigerator and filled a bowl with water, then hurried outside again.
She’d feared the little critter would be gone, but there it was.
She crouched again, set down the water bowl, tore the lunch meat into bite-size pieces with her fingers.
The dog drank lustily, obviously parched, and ate the offered lunch meat from the palm of Madison’s hand.
Now that the poor thing was standing on all fours, she saw that it was male.
What to do now?
She glanced at her watch. She was due at Liam’s place in twenty minutes, but she couldn’t just leave the pup out here alone, and she wasn’t comfortable confining him to the house, either. He’d be lonesome, and heaven only knew what damage he might do.
Madison made a quick decision.
She picked the dog up in her arms and set him in the front passenger seat, since the cake and salad were in back.
Then she took her phone from her purse and texted Liam.
I’m going to be a little late. I found this dog in my driveway a few minutes ago, and I’m taking him to the vet.
Liam’s response was gratifyingly prompt. See you when you get here. In the meantime, do what you need to do.
Thanks , she tapped out. Hopefully, this won’t take long .
With that, the “text-versation,” as Audra had dubbed such exchanges, ended, and Madison and the dog were headed for town.
Along the way, Madison considered stopping at the town’s one animal shelter and dropping off the dog. It was a good shelter, one Coralee had supported for as long as Madison could remember, and one she’d contributed to as well, but something made her choose the local veterinarian’s clinic instead.
Fifteen minutes later, Madison and the dog were in an examining room.
A vet’s assistant ran a hand scanner over the back of the little guy’s neck, shook her ponytailed head. “Nope,” she said, looking resigned. “No chip.”
Madison sagged at the news. She’d been hoping to witness, or at least set in motion , an ecstatic reunion between pet and owner.
She rallied within a few seconds. This was reality, not a Disney movie.
“I’ve got to be somewhere else for a few hours. Can you ask the doc to check him over?”
“Sure.” The girl smiled. “We have a groomer on staff now. What do you say we clean this bad boy up a little, too?”
Madison smiled back, relieved. “That would be great.” A pause. “Does he need to be neutered?”
Again, the assistant shook her head. She was petite, and probably in her twenties, though to Madison, she looked only slightly older than Keely McKettrick.
A sure sign that she, Madison, was getting old.
That brought her upcoming fertility consultation to mind.
Her first appointment was a month away, the earliest opening available.
Maybe she should just adopt this dog, if he wasn’t claimed soon.
It wouldn’t be the same as having a real, human baby, but it would almost certainly be a heck of a lot easier.
Inwardly, Madison shot down that idea.
A biological child, just one child, was what she wanted most in all the world, all the universe . After that, she could foster children, or adopt, or whatever. She would love them all the same, of course, but she wanted the experience of carrying and delivering a baby.
“What do you call him?” the assistant asked, jolting Madison back to the here and now with a bang.
For a second, she thought the girl had read her mind, that she was asking about the baby Madison intended to have.
Then she realized that wasn’t possible.
And the dog certainly deserved a name, especially when you considered all he’d probably been through before he’d found his way to the middle of Bettencourt Hall’s gravel driveway.
“Charlie,” Madison decided aloud, having plucked the moniker out of the ether. “His name is Charlie.”
The assistant was still grinning. She gathered the dog up into her arms, held him securely and said, “Let’s get you all spiffed up, Charlie.”
Charlie whined softly as the girl carried him out of the exam room, yearning for Madison with his eyes.
Madison just stood there for the length of several heartbeats—she could almost feel the steady thud of them against her breast bone—wondering what she’d just gotten herself into, taking a dog into her home. Into her life.
What if it turned out to be a mistake?
She bit her lower lip as she returned to the front office, swiped her credit card for any and all charges that might arise, and, after washing her hands in the rest room, set out for her original destination.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up in front of one of the most amazing houses she’d ever seen, and that was saying something, considering the places she’d been and the people she’d known.
Liam’s place, magnificently simple, sat surrounded by greenery—young maple and oak trees, and beyond that, grasslands and more trees, and in the near distance, the rolling foothills trailing off from their brethren, the Rockies.
The little boy—Cavan, she recalled—came bounding out of the house, and Madison stopped the Bentley a little farther from the grand, pillared portico than she would have otherwise, for safety’s sake.
Cavan McKettrick was all smiles, and he’d grow up to be a heartbreaker, Madison thought, even though he didn’t really resemble his handsome father.
“Did you bring the dog?” he cried, almost breathless with excitement.
Liam came out of the house, grinning, looking five kinds of delicious in his worn jeans, T-shirt and scuffed boots. His longish dark hair gleamed in the sun like a raven’s wing.
Keely stood behind him, on the threshold, watching intently.
She didn’t approach, or speak.
“I had to leave Charlie at the veterinarian’s office for today,” Madison explained to the boy, smiling as she opened the back door of the Bentley, on the driver’s side, and reached in for the large plastic container of green salad.
It was a dandy, laced with every fresh vegetable she’d had in the fridge, and the dressing was her own super-secret special recipe.
“Carry this for me?” she asked, noting the polite disappointment in the child’s face. He’d really wanted to meet Charlie.
“Sure,” Cavan said gamely, holding out both hands.
Madison handed him the salad.
“Is he sick?” the boy asked earnestly. “Your dog, I mean?”
“I don’t think so,” Madison answered, with a gentle shake of her head. A strange new tenderness welled up inside her as she looked into Cavan’s fretful little face, and she realized she could love this child, given half a chance. “He’s been lost a while, it seems, so he needs some extra help.”
By then, Liam was there.
The sight of him, and his soap-and-sunshine scent, made Madison a little dizzy.
She tugged the brim of her baseball cap down a little further over her eyes, hoping he hadn’t noticed her reaction to him.
It was physical, yes. But it was so much more.
She was glad she’d given the salad to Cavan to carry, because she might have dropped it right there in the driveway if she hadn’t.
Liam let his gaze slide from her face to her sneakers.
The glance was not invasive, just appreciative.
“Bad choice of shoes,” he commented dryly.
“I didn’t bring riding boots,” she replied, feeling foolish, bending to grab the cake carrier while she scrambled to regain her wavering dignity. “When I came back to Painted Pony Creek, I mean. They wouldn’t have matched my wedding gown.”
Liam chuckled, and the sound affected Madison like an intimate caress.
She shivered, and it was a pleasurable sensation, one she’d never experienced before. Damn, but this man, it seemed, could make love to her using his eyes and his voice. No hands required.
He took the cake carrier. “Come on,” he urged, reaching out to close the rear door of the Bentley, almost as if he expected her to jump back in the car, scramble over the seat, to get behind the wheel, and speed out of there. “Let’s put this food away and see what we can come up with in the way of boots. I’m thinking Courtney’s might fit you—she has a couple of pairs, I think.”
For a reason she couldn’t have explained, Madison blushed.
It wasn’t as if Liam had offered to loan her some of Courtney’s underwear, for pity’s sake.
And that was when she remembered.
“I forgot my swimming suit,” she blurted.
Liam actually laughed then. “Chill, as my kids would say. If necessary, we can drive back to your place later on and fetch it.”
Madison relaxed just a little. Looked around.
The property was gorgeous, and the house resembled something out of Town & Country or Architectural Digest. For all she knew, it might have been, or soon would be, featured in one or both publications.
It was that beautiful and that unique.
Like the man who’d designed and built it.
“Is Courtney around?” Madison asked lightly. She didn’t want to give him the impression that she felt competitive or anything like that.
Liam shook his head.
They were approaching the front doorway by that time, and Keely receded into the shadows, like a very colorful little ghost.
“I invited Court to join us on the ride, but she’s leaving for LA pretty soon, so she wanted time to pack and all that. I’ll send Keely to ask her about a swimming suit and the boots, though.”
Madison felt embarrassed. Unprepared.
It wasn’t a thing like her.
She followed him into the house, and as they passed through the spacious, light-filled rooms, Madison couldn’t help comparing the place to Bettencourt Hall, not in a better-or-worse way, but simply because the contrast was so plain.
Coralee’s house was gigantic, of course, and elegant to the nth degree, but the rooms there didn’t have the airy, wide-open feel of those here.
Cavan ran ahead of them, clutching the salad container to his middle with both hands and yelling, “Keely! Dad wants you to ask Aunt Courtney for a swimsuit and some boots!”
Liam laughed, a low, affectionate sound that warmed something in Madison she hadn’t realized was cold, and shook his head.
When they reached the kitchen, Keely was there, standing by the long, rustic wooden table, with benches on both sides and chairs at either end.
She was wearing blue jeans and a pink tank top, and her arms were folded across her little-girl chest.
Madison knew the girl was nine years old, but she was petite, and her size gave her the look of an even younger child.
Her face, however, wore a grown-up expression, one of wariness and suspicion.
“Hello, Madison,” she said, without the slightest hint of welcome. Her attitude was faintly hostile, in fact. “Cavan said you need to borrow boots and something to swim in.”
Inwardly, Madison sighed, and her smile wobbled a little on her mouth, though she managed to hold on to it, not let it slip away.
Cavan was clearly an easygoing child.
His sister, on the other hand...
“That’s right,” Madison managed to say.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Liam’s jaw harden, just for the briefest of moments. “Keely,” he said, and there was a warning in his tone, moderate but still definite.
Keely still looked obstinate, but something flickered in her incredibly beautiful, almost purple eyes. She sighed, and her little shoulders sagged briefly.
Madison felt sorry for the girl, and made up her mind not to let that show.
Liam’s daughter was hurting, however hard she might try to disguise the fact, and Madison would have hugged her, under any other circumstances but these. Putting her arms around this child, as a virtual stranger and quite possibly a threat, would have been like embracing a porcupine.
It was too soon for any of that, naturally. Too soon to say, I know how you feel, little one, because I’ve been there myself. I never really knew my mom and dad, and my grandmother loved me from a proper distance.
Watching Keely, Madison remembered when she’d been sent away to boarding school when she was only a few years older than this defiant child.
Even now, years later, that “proper distance” still separated her from her grandmother, as much as she loved that complicated, rapidly diminishing old woman.
Keely looked at her father, sighed loudly. “Boots and a swimsuit,” she affirmed, her tone as glum as her manner as she turned toward the back door. “But Aunt Courtney is smaller than you are, so her stuff probably won’t fit you.”
“Keely, that’s mean,” Cavan objected.
“True that,” Liam said, plainly annoyed.
Keely stiffened momentarily, then opened the door and bolted for the guest house, just visible from where Madison stood, feeling as though she’d blown it somehow.
As the child ran past the pool, she came so close to the edge that Madison flinched, thinking she might fall in.
“I’m sorry,” Liam said. He sounded tired. Incredibly so.
“Don’t be,” Madison answered, having pulled herself together enough to put on a happy face. “I’m not that easy to offend.”
Cavan drew close to Madison’s side, leaned in a little. Looked up at her with wide, questioning eyes. “Are you anybody’s mom?” he asked.
The question pierced Madison’s heart, and she felt as though she were hanging from her own smile by the tips of her fingers. In other words, just barely.
“No,” she said, and though the smile held, she knew there was sadness in her voice. “I haven’t been that lucky.”
Liam looked at her with curious concern, though he shook that off quickly and assumed that devastatingly mischievous grin of his.
As it turned out, Courtney’s borrowed boots were a little tight, but the bathing suit, a blue-and-white-striped one-piece, looked as though it would work well enough.
“Thank you, Keely,” Madison had said, when the girl shoved the items into her hands, after dragging her feet all the way back from the guest house.
“You’re welcome,” Keely muttered begrudgingly.
Liam opened his mouth to protest, but Madison stopped him by holding up one palm and giving him a look.
“Let’s ride,” he said, after a brief silence. “The horses are saddled and ready to go.”
“I helped Dad put the saddles on,” Cavan announced, beaming.
“Get your helmets,” Liam said, and both kids left the kitchen, one eager to obey, the other reluctance personified.
Madison sat down on the nearest bench, facing away from the table, kicked off her Converse and tugged on Courtney’s boots.
“This table,” she commented, mostly to make conversation about anything other than Keely’s attitude. “It’s different from the rest of your furniture. Not so modern.”
Liam grinned, grabbing two bottles of water from the huge, gleaming refrigerator and setting one down next to Madison’s elbow. “That’s because it’s an antique. Belonged to my grandfather, Angus McKettrick, several greats back. He was a genuine cowboy, the real deal, and so were his four sons—my branch of the family is descended from one of them.”
“Which one?” Madison asked, even though she hadn’t a clue who Angus McKettrick might have been, much less his sons, and no matter what answer Liam gave, it wouldn’t enlighten her. She just liked hearing his voice, and little tidbits about his background, such as this.
“Jeb,” Liam answered. “He was the youngest.”
Madison stood, shifted her weight from foot to foot, making sure she could wear Courtney’s boots without setting herself up for long-term podiatry.
“How much do you know about them?” she asked. Her tone was light, but she really wanted to hear the reply.
Liam shrugged. “A lot, actually. But we’re about to mount up and ride, and my mind’s on that. If you still want to hear the tall tales, I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but for right now, I’d rather concentrate on the fact that you’re here, and we’re going to ride together.”
Madison grinned. “I’m going to need a whole bag of Epsom salts in my bath tonight,” she told him. “I haven’t ridden in several years.”
Liam smiled. Placed his hand lightly on the small of her back, gently steering her toward the front of the house.
“You’ll be fine,” he said with quiet confidence.
And she was fine.
The horse Liam had chosen for her was a spirited little bay mare named Coco.
His own mount, whom he introduced as Xerxes, was a large black gelding, who presented himself, it seemed to horse-loving Madison, as a stallion. He was proud, this animal, and his coat shone like Liam’s hair in the sunshine.
Cavan rode a small pinto named Scooby, and Keely’s horse was a pretty palomino she called Lady. Both kids mounted up without assistance, and Madison, who had surprised herself a bit by swinging effortlessly into the saddle, without help from Liam, was impressed with both of them.
Keely sat straight-backed, and though her saddle was Western, she was clearly used to dressage, like Madison herself.
Liam gave his children instructions to stay in sight and not to run their horses, and they trotted off, through the pasture gate and onto the open range.
Way off in the distance, there were cattle grazing, a mixture of Herefords and Black Angus.
Madison beamed, standing in the stirrups, filling her lungs with a greedy plentitude of fresh air.
Liam, still on foot, shut the big gate behind them, latched it, and then mounted Xerxes with the ease of someone who’d literally learned to ride before he could walk. And maybe he had, growing up on a ranch.
“This place is beyond beautiful,” Madison said, taking in the staggering view.
“I think so,” Liam agreed quietly. Then, with a sidelong glance, his eyes dancing, he asked, “Just how out of practice are you, Madison Bettencourt?”
“A lot,” she replied honestly, “but not so much that I wouldn’t challenge you to a race.”
He laughed. “A race, is it? It’s only fair to warn you, Xerxes and I are a pretty good team.” He pointed to a lone pine tree standing way off in the distance. “Let’s see if you can keep up, City Girl.”
Such joy welled up inside Madison that she threw back her head and laughed into the blue, blue sky. Then she loosened the reins, leaned forward in the saddle, and nudged Coco’s gleaming, muscular sides with the heels of Courtney’s boots.
The mare blasted off like a rocket, reaching a full-out run in three strides, and the race was on.
Liam and Xerxes kept pace easily—his was clearly the more powerful horse—and Madison knew they were both holding back, Liam willingly, Xerxes under protest.
Tears of pure happiness blurred Madison’s vision as she and Coco dashed through the deep grass, bounding headlong toward that single, solitary tree, which was still far away.
She looked sideways, watching Liam traveling alongside her.
He was as magnificent as his horse, so at home in that saddle that he almost seemed to be part of Xerxes.
Cavan and Keely, meanwhile, had both stopped to watch.
Cavan was cheering, while Keely smiled, most likely in spite of herself.
Just as they reached the tree, Liam reined in his horse, and Madison and Coco shot ahead to victory, circling the tree, coming back around to face Liam, who grinned and resettled his hat while Xerxes pranced beneath him, probably disgruntled.
“You let us win!” Madison accused, exhilarated. Standing in the stirrups once more as she and Coco rode in circles so the mare could cool down.
Liam adjusted his hat again. It was a simple gesture, but one that Madison knew she would always associate with him, whether their time together was short or long.
“You said it yourself. You’re out of practice,” he reminded her.
Dear heaven, his eyes were so impossibly blue.
Cavan and Keely trotted over to join them, and Madison thought she caught a look of respect as the girl took her in.
“You can really ride,” Keely said, watching Madison as she finally brought Coco to a stop and leaned forward to pat the animal’s sweaty neck.
“Thanks,” Madison replied lightly, because she didn’t want to make this into a big deal. “I was around your age when I started.”
Cavan looked at his father. “Dad won’t let us race,” he said.
Liam rode close to the boy and plopped his hat onto his son’s head, covering both his helmet and his eyes.
When Liam took it back, Cavan’s mood had shifted back to its usual mode of innocent goodwill. “Dad,” he crowed. “Why do you always do that?”
Liam rested a hand on his chest, seemed to recede a little in the saddle. “Do what?” he asked guilelessly.
“Put your hat on my head like that!”
“Couldn’t say,” Liam replied, in the same who, me? tone of voice. “Guess it’s a mystery.”
Cavan looked happily exasperated.
Even Keely was smiling, though there was something cautious about her expression, too. As though simple happiness wasn’t to be trusted.
Madison felt another pang of sympathy, wondering what this girl had been through before she and Cavan had come to live with their father.
Keely caught her looking, and the smile slowly faded.
After that, they rode, the four of them, never exceeding a trot.
Perhaps an hour had passed when Liam suggested they head back and get the barbecue started. While the coals were heating up, he said, they could cool off in the pool.
Of course the horses had to be attended to first, and Madison enjoyed that process almost as much as the ride. When it came to taking off the saddle and bridle and wiping the animal down with a sponge dipped in lukewarm water, muscle memory kicked in. She could literally have taken care of Coco in her sleep, and that made her feel strong again, in charge of her own destiny even.
At what point, she wondered, had she begun to feel weak?
She never had, actually. But she’d lost the particular sense of confidence riding gave her, and rubbing down the horse was like balm to her spirit.
The ride had been more than an hour or so of fun.
It had been therapeutic.
It had brought her back to herself, which was a revelation, since she hadn’t realized until then that she’d wandered away in the first place.
The sense of homecoming, of belonging right there in her own skin, was transformative.
Once the horses had been turned out into the pasture for the rest of the day, Liam, Madison, Keely and Cavan returned to the house.
Madison was shy about putting on the borrowed bathing suit, thinking her legs were white and she should have gone over them with a razor that morning in the shower, but soon she was in the pool with the others, splashing in the still-icy water.
Liam admitted he’d filled the pool just the day before, which meant it really hadn’t had time to warm up much.
He’d added the proper chemicals, though, so the water was clean, and a pretty turquoise color, drawing blue from the famous Big Sky arching over them like the dome of some celestial cathedral.
Madison was practically bursting with the simple joy of it all.
And that scared her a little, deep down, because in her experience, every peak led to a valley.