Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
S taff meetings were the most boring things ever. What did Weston care about problems with the housekeeping staff? Blocked-up toilets in the campground washrooms? How the glamping project was coming along?
Grandfather — Weston still had trouble thinking of Walter Sullivan that way — was in Montana for a few days but would be returning to Chicago soon. Sweet River’s atmosphere was more relaxed with the old man gone.
Weston eyed Tate at the head of the table. Maybe not more laidback. Tate seemed to be born to head things up and boss everyone around, even though he’d been his parents’ second-born. How could Wally have had a more take-charge personality? Weston would never know, since the eldest Sullivan cousin and his wife had died before the Klines had reconnected with the family.
“Weston?”
He blinked his attention back to the CEO. Had Tate asked him a question? Weston leaned onto the table. “Would you repeat that, please?”
“Paisley?” Tate gestured to the woman.
Weston’s gut sank. Even worse, he’d managed to block whatever Paisley had said, and it concerned him?
“We have a homeschool group coming week after next, and they’ve requested an overnight trail ride.”
His head was shaking before he’d registered her words.
Paisley’s eyes drilled into his. “It will be Tuesday through Friday. Darrell can handle the regular rides while we’re gone.”
Four days? That was worse than overnight. Alarm bells clanged as his skin grew clammy. “What?”
“Excellent thinking, Paisley,” Tate stated. “Right, Weston? You have a lot of experience in back-country camping. There’s no one better than you to lead a group like this.”
“I…” He glanced from Tate to Paisley and back to Tate. How could he get out of it? But maybe Paisley wasn’t planning on going. Maybe she was just setting him up.
Which was worse? Because a mixed group required more than one leader, and that meant at least one male and one female. She wouldn’t send another woman and stay back herself. Not after she’d challenged him last week and basically announced she’d catch him, one way or the other.
And now she was baiting her trap, dragging Tate into implementing it, and drawing the net so there’d be no escape.
“I can send food you’ll just need to reheat or assemble,” Mom said from across the table .
He hadn’t even gotten as far as logistics yet. All his turmoil had been about Paisley.
“How many kids are we talking?” Trust Graham to look for numbers.
Paisley consulted her notes. As though she needed to. Doubtless she had everything in them memorized. “The final count isn’t in. Eight so far, and I’ve capped it at twice that. Four adults can handle whatever comes up.”
Four adults? She meant herself, Weston, and who else? He raised his eyebrows in query.
She lifted her chin slightly and stared back. “The homeschool group will send two chaperones as well. They are still deciding which of them will volunteer and who will stay here at base camp with the rest of the kids.”
“Ages?” Mom asked.
“Nine to twelve.”
If these twerps were anything like he and Jude had been as tweens, this was going to be a very interesting few days. Wait. That was like admitting he was going along with Paisley’s scheme. Did he have a choice? “I vote Darrell goes instead of me. I’m needed at the stable.”
Tate shook his head. “I think it has to be you, cuz. Darrell’s great with the horses, but he doesn’t have the back-country experience you do.”
Why did he even bother arguing? This had all been decided before they’d broached the subject with him. “Whatever,” he muttered.
“So, you agree?” Tate skewered him with a look.
“I guess so.” Yeah, Weston sounded like a whiny kid just like the ones they’d be shepherding, but he couldn’t be bothered trying to sound polite about being manipulated. This was all on Paisley. It seemed she’d do anything at all to pin him down.
Maybe he should let her catch him. It wouldn’t take long for her to realize she’d made a mistake. Right now, all she could see was the glory of the chase, but when she knew the real Weston, she’d back off and find some other dude.
Hadn’t he already shown her the real Weston? Abrasive, rude, reluctant… and she still kept coming.
“I approve your request,” Tate was saying to Paisley. “When will we have a final number? We’ll need that to allot horses and supplies. Please submit everything you know via the website form so there’s no room for error.”
Paisley nodded. “I’ll have a firm headcount by the weekend, if that’s good enough.”
Tate looked at Mom, who nodded.
“The kids will be responsible for their own sleeping bags and pads. I have my own. The ranch owns several large tents we can use.” Paisley eyed Weston.
He cleared his throat. “I do, as well.” Of course, he did. She’d thought of everything.
“Weston, once you’ve figured out a route and destination for the ride, please let me know.” Tate tapped in his tablet. “Maybe they can spend the full days in the middle in camp fishing or swimming or something.”
“I’ll think on it.” He wasn’t as familiar with Sweet River’s mountain meadows as he was with the Circle K where he’d grown up, but he’d done a fair bit of riding. He’d study the trails and the topographical maps then maybe do a recon ride. A ride on which he would not invite Paisley Teele. A guy needed time to himself to brace for an onslaught of a bunch of people for 24 hours straight, days on end.
Paisley did know how to ride in silence. She’d done it a few times last summer, though last week’s staff ride made it seem like she’d forgotten how.
When she was talking about horses or nature, it wasn’t so terrible. It was when she tried to convince him a relationship was possible that he needed to turn tail and run.
Finally.
Paisley had begun to think Darrell had steered her wrong, but Weston was finally striding up Pegasus Lane. The former owners had named all the roads on the property for winged creatures, which apparently amused Mr. Sullivan, because he’d kept them.
She waited until Weston had nearly come abreast of her position near the stable door before she stepped into his path. “Hey.”
He stopped in his tracks. “What are you doing here?”
“Good morning to you, too.” She stretched. “It’s a gorgeous day for a ride.”
“Where are you going?” Suspicion laced his voice.
“With you, of course.” She’d bat her eyelashes, but she was still in the shadows. “I heard you’re checking out a location for the trail-riding camp today, and I thought you might like some input.”
Weston snorted.
“Well, maybe like is too strong a word. How about need? Or, how about just admitting company would be good, just in case?”
He shook his head slowly. “Go back to bed, Paisley. You’ve got a full day here, I’m sure. And I don’t want company.”
“Cindy is handling the activities today, and I’m coming with you. Saddle up, cowboy. Daylight’s wasting.” She turned her back on him and hiked into the stable, where she already had Enchantment tacked and ready to go. “Oh, by the way, I have food packed. I’ll even share.”
He grunted as he passed Enchantment’s box to Ranger’s.
Paisley gave a silent victory pump as she led Enchantment out to the mounting area. She checked her supplies: her stainless water bottle, thermos with black tea, protein bars, sandwiches, cookies, a small first-aid kit, a hoodie and rain jacket in case of weather changes, binoculars, sunglasses. She’d even remembered to charge her phone, so she’d be able to take photos. She settled her hat on her head then swung into her saddle just as Weston exited the stable.
The cowboy glowered at her as he mounted. With no further ado, he urged Ranger into motion, and the black horse shot toward the trail.
No problem. Enchantment’s legs were even longer than Ranger’s. He might be a bit skittish, but he’d keep up, and Paisley could stick to his saddle no matter what happened. Looked like they were going to eat some miles before breakfast.
After twenty minutes or so at full stretch, Weston settled Ranger into a mile-eating trot without glancing back to check on Paisley. Soon they’d be past the trail network they used most often with the tourists, who only wanted to amble along for an hour or so at a time.
Dawn crept around the mountain, shadows shortening as the birds began to flit about and sing their wake-up songs.
How did Psalm 121 start again? I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
Paisley shifted in the saddle, stretching her back then one leg then the other. It was a good day to be alive, a good day to spend in nature. If only her companion — no, she wasn’t going to whine about Weston’s bad mood today, even inside her head.
She scanned a gap in the forest. “Bears downslope,” she said quietly.
Weston’s head swung left as he slowed Ranger.
Huh, he was listening for Paisley, whether he’d admit it or not.
He reined in, studying the sow and two cubs who were a few hundred feet away or so. The sow’s head lifted as she stared in their direction.
Weston fingered his holster, but Paisley knew he wouldn’t shoot unless his life depended on it.
The bear flipped over a decaying log and nosed into the space it had evicted. The cubs crowded close.
Paisley couldn’t help smiling at the sight. The sow had correctly deduced the humans and equines were no threat, and she was back to foraging for her family. A glance at Weston showed softened features and a grin creasing his day-old stubble.
See? He did have a soft side, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
Her mission: to prove to him that he didn’t have to guard himself so closely, that it was okay to let people in and have friends. More than that? She wouldn’t say no, but if he’d just loosen up a little, she’d count her mission a success.
What had happened in his life, causing him to wrap himself in barbed wire? Would he ever trust her enough to confide?
His gaze swung to hers.
She gestured to the bears. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“Yeah.” He settled a fidgety Ranger. “You said you had food?”
“Sure. Let’s get further from the bears and dismount, and I’ll dig out sandwiches.”
“There’s a river crossing not far up. Ranger could use a drink.”
And a cool-down, no doubt, not that Paisley would say so. Weston knew horses, not just Ranger, far better than she did. “Sounds good.”
The horses moseyed up the trail, drawing the sow’s attention again for a moment before she turned away. Then they increased speed again until Weston reined to a stop a few minutes later. He’d dismounted and led Ranger into the shallow water before Paisley realized this was the spot.
She slid off Enchantment’s back. She’d ridden a few times since returning to Montana a couple of weeks ago, but that wasn’t enough conditioning for a full day in the saddle. She was going to feel every single one of her many, many muscles tomorrow.
Weston accepted a sandwich from her with a low “thanks” before he took a seat on a rock beside the river. That might be the politest word she’d ever received from him.
She was absolutely nuts to keep putting herself through this. How could Weston ever be worth the turmoil? But a glance at his profile as he studied his surroundings and chewed his sandwich reminded her.
He was one of God’s creatures, and he was hurting. Same for her, but where he seemed to wallow in it, she shoved all her bad memories under and covered them with a happy smile. No one wanted to be around a grump all the time, after all. Except her, or she wouldn’t keep on seeking out Weston’s company. Maybe she admired him for just being who he was instead of pretending otherwise.
Nah. Couldn’t be that.
Paisley dug in her bag. “Want a protein bar or a cookie?”
He eyed the objects in her hand. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
He’d thanked her twice in five minutes. That was practically gushing.
She tossed him a baggie with a few cookies and followed it with a wrapped bar. She’d raided the kitchen last night, and Weston’s mother had been all sorts of helpful when she caught onto Paisley’s plan. Hence, the soft-sided cooler she’d stuffed in the saddle bags contained nothing but Weston’s favorites. Paisley had no complaints with peanut butter cookies and ham sandwiches on sourdough. She’d also grabbed carrots and sugar snap peas. Veggies were important, too. She began munching on a carrot stick.
Weston eyed her. “You didn’t offer me that.”
Ha. He was paying attention. “Want some?”
“Of course.” This time he crossed over to her and sat on the same log before digging into the bag between them.
This was practically like getting a skittish squirrel to eat from her hand. No sudden movements, or he’d be gone. Maybe she should also avoid eye contact and prodding questions. The thought made her smile.
“What’s so amusing?” Weston’s voice was guarded.
“I’m just enjoying the moment. The sun on my back, the rippling creek, the delicious food, the budding trees, the excellent company. God is so good.”
“Yeah. People mess everything up, but nature is the best.”
Finished her carrot, she reached for another, but her hand bumped into Weston’s. She pulled back like she’d been zapped by an electric current. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” He grabbed a couple of carrots then set the baggie on the log between them. “I’ve had enough.”
“How much further to the place you’re thinking of?”
One eyebrow rose. “Too long a ride for you?”
“I didn’t say that. I know you’re aware most of the kids won’t have ridden much, if at all, so I believe I’m fully capable of whatever you have in mind.”
“We’re doing the complete round trip today, unlike with the kids.”
Paisley shrugged. “No biggie. It was just a question.”
He angled a glance at the sun. “Should be there by high noon, give or take. The topo map looks like there’s a big enough, flat enough area for several tents, but I won’t know for sure until I see it with my own eyes.”
“That’s fair.”
“We’ll need to dig a couple of latrines while we’re up there today.”
“I’m up for that.” Paisley hesitated. “Still hate that I tagged along?”
“Whatever.” Weston studied her. Then he shrugged and his voice softened. “It’s okay. I’ll live through it.”
She jabbed his arm. “Good to hear, cowboy.”