Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
W ho here has done any riding?” The owner of Walker Ridge Ranch surveyed the group.
Maxwell stuck up his hand and glanced around him. A bit over half of his former classmates owned up to at least a little familiarity. Not Eryn, though.
“Okay, those with some experience, please pair up with someone who hasn’t, and we’ll get through this next part more quickly. The horses are saddled up, as you can see. They’re all used to greenhorns, so don’t worry about that. No one’s getting bucked off today. You need to get out to Colorado or Wyoming if you’re looking to ride a bronc.”
Or Montana or Texas. Not that Maxwell would correct the rancher out loud, because he wasn’t completely wrong.
Around him, his former classmates started pairing off with friends, but Eryn stood alone along the edge, looking down at her tennis shoes.
In a few strides, he was at her side. “Hey, want to ride with me?”
She looked up, her blue eyes wide. “Are you sure?”
“Why not?” He shrugged and grinned at her. “Just following directions.”
Was that a hint of dismay on her face? “I’ve never ridden. I probably shouldn’t be here today, either. I?—”
He touched her arm as she pivoted away. “But you are here, so enjoy it?”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You’re not. More than a third of our class doesn’t ride, by the looks of it. You’re far from the only one.”
“I suppose.” She bit her lip.
Pairs lined up to enter the corral where a long row of saddled horses stood, reins looped to the posts. Everyone was chatting and laughing as they awaited their turn. Several helpers kept the line moving.
“Come on. Promise I won’t bite.”
“Sorry. I’m being silly about this. It’s just I’m not very athletic.”
“You don’t need to be.” Maxwell grinned at her. “The horse does most of the work. I should warn you, though, you’ll feel muscles tomorrow you didn’t know you had.”
Eryn wrinkled her nose.
She was kind of cute when she relaxed a little. Not that he could fault her for being reticent. She’d never been the outgoing twin, at least, not that he remembered. But it must still seem strange to do things solo when she’d always had Amelia in her life until just two years ago. They’d probably been very close.
Maxwell rested his hand on the small of Eryn’s back to guide her to the end of the line. She was a nice height — not too tall and not too short — and where had that thought come from? They were going horseback riding for an hour or two, and after the banquet tonight, he’d probably never see her again.
Eryn flashed him a smile over her shoulder as she stopped behind the Brandts and the Reeders.
Still, would it be so terrible to keep in touch?
Yes, it would. He lived in Montana, and she’d barely left Gilead in her entire life, if she hadn’t been misleading him last night. Why would she have fibbed? To make him feel sorry for her? Nah, she wouldn’t do that. It must be true.
Either she didn’t want to travel, or she hadn’t had the opportunity. Which was it? Maxwell glanced at her profile as she looked out over the gently rolling landscape. A winding strip of green revealed where the river ran through Gilead and beyond. A few small ponds and dugouts dotted the farmland.
Where was the Ralston farm again? Over there, next to the Bed of Greens Truck Farm, which was a new addition since he’d been a kid. It looked like a going concern from this vantage point.
“Hey, our turn.” He touched her back again.
She seemed startled as she moved forward.
“Hi, Mr. Walker. I’m Maxwell Sullivan, and this is Eryn Ralston. I’ve done quite a bit of riding, but Eryn hasn’t. What have you got for us?”
“Sullivan, eh?” The man nodded. “Heard your old man bought a ranch out west.”
“My grandfather, yes.”
“You can ride Trigger there. The big black. And you, Eryn, how about Lady? She’s the gray mare.”
“Okay.” She gave a shuddering breath.
“How’s your dad doing, Eryn? I haven’t had a chance to touch base with him lately.”
“Fine.”
“Good man, your father.”
“I’ll tell him you asked about him.”
Maxwell shook his head. This was an odd little town where everyone was in each other’s business. He could only be thankful he’d escaped all those years ago. “Trigger looks fine, thanks.” He turned to Eryn. “Let me help you with Lady, first. Come meet her.”
He took Eryn’s hand and tugged her over to the mare. Then he leaned in and whispered. “Don’t tell Mr. Walker, but I came prepared. Here, give Lady this carrot, and she’ll be your friend for life.”
She pulled her hand out of his but accepted the carrot. “Just hold it out to her?”
“On a flat palm.”
“Ooh!” Eryn giggled as Lady nipped the treat in one bite. “That tickled.”
He’d been about to warn her. “Okay, come stand here on Lady’s left. Tuck your left foot into the stirrup and grab the saddle horn. Got it? Now give yourself a good boost and swing your right leg over her back.”
It took Eryn a couple of tries before she made it into the saddle. “Wow. This is higher than I thought.”
“Sit right there.” Maxwell turned to Trigger and mounted up, nodding to the rancher. “Hold the reins loosely. I’m guessing she’ll follow Trigger no problem.”
“That’s right, son,” the older man agreed. “Looks like you’ve got it from here.”
Maxwell grinned at Eryn before he squeezed his knees gently against Trigger’s flanks. “Let’s see how this goes.”
Was this how his cousin Weston felt all the time when teaching greenhorns to ride at Sweet River Ranch? Because it was gratifying to see the faith Eryn placed in both him and Lady, even though she was obviously terrified… at least, judging by her clenched eyes and white knuckles.
Lady ambled behind Trigger, and Maxwell turned in his saddle slightly. “You’re doing great. Enjoy the view. Everything looks better from this vantage point.”
Even Kansas.
Even Eryn Ralston.
Maybe she wasn’t going to fall off the swaying horse and make a fool of herself in front of everyone. More to the point, in front of Maxwell, who’d been nothing but kind to her since last night.
Men like him never paid attention to women like her, so she should soak it up while she had it. He’d probably jet away from Kansas tomorrow, and she’d never see him again. Just as well, because he made her want things that weren’t her lot in life: marriage and a family, sure, but also ease and adventure. No, the greatest role she might be destined for was cooking at Debby’s Diner, not just assisting.
Big whoop. It might be someone’s dream, but not hers.
It was the end of September, and the days were still quite pleasant. She relaxed a tiny bit at the warmth of the sun on her skin and the flicker of breeze playing with her hair. She should have tied it back.
She still couldn’t believe she was horseback riding with Maxwell Sullivan. Right, and a whole bunch of other people, but whatever. He was focused on her even now, glancing at her with a smile as she rode behind him. He took his responsibility seriously.
“So, um, tell me about Montana. About the ranch. Is it like Walker Ridge?”
He shook his head. “Not much the same, no. There are quite a few ranches in our area, most of them working spreads.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, that they earn their income from raising beef cattle and selling them. Sweet River used to be a working ranch, but the folks who owned it maybe ten years ago began turning it into a guest ranch. Some people call them dude ranches.”
“So, your ranch’s income comes from tourists.”
“My grandfather’s ranch, but yes. We do have some cows and a small team who cut and bale the hay for the livestock, but our revenue is mostly tourist driven. There’s an RV campground, cottages to rent by the week, and hotel rooms in the lodge itself.”
“Sounds nice.” Eryn tried to come up with a picture in her mind.
“The Sweet River flows through a small lake where our guests swim and paddle and fish. My cousin Weston is the head wrangler, offering riding lessons and trail rides, and his girlfriend is the activities coordinator, coming up with everything from events for kids whose families vacation there to festivities for the Fourth of July.”
Every word out of his mouth gave Eryn’s imagination one more block to build with as the idyllic picture blossomed. The image was green… greener than anything Gilead offered at any time of year. “How about winter?”
“We can get a boatload of snow overnight, but it’s not too bad. The wind doesn’t have a chance to roll through the ranch like it does here. We don’t have many guests in the winter, just a few at the lodge from time to time, so it’s pretty cozy. Fires in the stone fireplace, chess games, good food — my aunt Nadine is the chef, and she keeps us well fed.”
Why hadn’t Eryn ever thought of other places that hired cooks? Not just restaurants. Huh. Not that she could aspire to being more than a sous chef, but that could be a steppingstone to other options. Not at Debby’s, though. She’d never advance there.
If she could do anything, be anything she wanted, would she choose to cook?
Mind-blowing question, and one she had no answer to. And here she was, wasting a brand-new experience on mulling her sad life. Not only riding, but in the company of the sweetest man she’d ever met. Granted, she didn’t know him all that well, but wouldn’t it be hard to fake the kindness in his eyes? Why would he pretend?
“Thanks again for not making fun of ’fraidy-cat me.”
He grinned at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Why would I? Every experience is new to everyone once.”
“I bet you’ve been riding since you were a kid.” Although he’d grown up in Gilead, so maybe not.
“I rode a few times at summer camp.” He shrugged. “But that was eons ago. Most of my experience has been in the past couple of summers since living at Sweet River. I never had the opportunity in between — didn’t look for it, either, to be honest. I was too focused on my business to consider the value of leisure time or the beauty of nature.”
“Life gets busy.” They could agree on that, at least.
Maxwell studied her. “What do you enjoy for hobbies?”
“Hobbies?” Her gaze flew to meet his. “Does quilting count?”
“Quilts? Definitely. It must take a long time to sew one.”
And they were pricy to make, so she couldn’t indulge often. A couple of times the fabric store in town had received a custom request and hired her. Those had been tons of fun. “They do take a long time. I’ve been saving up for a quilting machine. I tried doing one by hand like in the olden days, but it took forever.”
“Didn’t pioneer women do that in groups? Loads of gossip and tea while they stitched?”
What? How did he know about that?
He chuckled at the expression on her face. “Hey, I read, and I enjoy history. Plus, I came across a stack of cool quilts tucked away in an attic of this one house I renovated, so I had to do some research to figure out if we had true antiques on our hands.”
“Did you?”
“No, they weren’t that old, so no collectors lined up to buy them. I sold them as a lot but kept one because I liked it.”
He’d kept a quilt. What kind of guy was Maxwell Sullivan? He was more nuanced than she’d ever have given him credit for. “I’d love to see it sometime.” Whoa. That had been awfully forward of her.
“You’ll have to come to Montana, then. Much as I like the quilt, I don’t travel with it. I leave it folded on the foot of my bed and have done for several years now. I guess that’s how I know where home is.”
The only home Eryn had ever known was about to be ripped away from her. Could she choose to see that as a stepping-stone? A blessing? “Maybe I’ll take you up on that sometime. I’ve never traveled, but Montana — your ranch — sounds beautiful.” She was lousy at flirting, but it didn’t matter. Maxwell would be leaving soon, and she’d be staying.
“It’s a great place.” He studied her for a minute then swept his hand toward the vista. “This has its own beauty, though.”
The other riders had disappeared from view over the crest of a low hill. The landscape was mottled yellow and green, and a neighboring farm settled into a hollow up ahead. To the right, Gilead lay nestled against the winding river.
“Yes, there’s beauty here.” But it was a harsh beauty, or maybe her view was tainted by the realities of Dad selling out the farm that had been in their family for generations. Her ancestors had managed to hang onto it through two world wars and the Great Depression, but all it took to reverse fortunes these days was a hefty medical bill. If the sacrifice had restored Amelia’s broken body to health, it might have been worth it, but it had been too little, too late.
Was she a terrible sister to wish Dad had simply accepted Amelia’s inevitable passing back then the way he seemed to be accepting the loss of the farm now?
On the other hand, Eryn was still here, hale and healthy, and she had an opportunity to look past the Kansas horizon, wide as it might be.
Except she couldn’t leave Dad behind.