Chapter Fifteen
There was only a fleeting moment when Aidan opened his eyes in the morning before the weight of everything settled squarely on him. It would all come back in a flood, pinning him to the bed with the sheer size of it.
The ranch was running out of money. He couldn’t keep paying his workers, let alone support an entire family, and selling off stock to make ends meet would leave him nothing to make money with.
Even though the sun wasn’t up and the rooster hadn’t crowed, Aidan sighed and sat up in bed. He rubbed his eyes, swung his legs out of bed, and began to dress in twill trousers and a cotton shirt. If he could just work harder and longer, he could make it better.
At least, that was the principle he’d told himself. Now, however…
He shook his head hard, trying to chase doubts away.
He slipped silently through the house, stopping long enough to put his boots on.
As he did so, he spied the pile of firewood near the back door.
He hesitated a moment, then picked up a few pieces and brought them into the kitchen, placing them next to the stove.
It would save the women a few minutes of work.
The thought of the women led him to the children, and he rubbed the back of his neck. There were so many people depending on him, faces that would turn to him when winter settled in and wonder why they were hungry.
He shook his head again. Time enough to worry about that when it comes, he told himself.
He meandered down to the small corral that he’d been keeping the new stud in. The thought of the horse gave him a stab of guilt at the cost, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret the decision.
A good morning ride—that’s what you need, he reasoned. Life always seemed better from the back of a horse.
This put a little bounce in his step. Someone was already there.
Alexandra was standing at the fence, scratching the stallion’s neck.
Aidan stiffened, fully expecting the horse to give her a nip—breeding stallions weren’t social animals, and this one had given more than one stranger a swift reminder of that.
To his surprise, the horse stretched out and tilted his head in appreciation. This made Alexandra laugh without restraint, nothing like the polite laughs he’d heard from her in the house.
Aidan stopped in his tracks to stare. Her hair hadn’t been properly pinned up for the day, the curls rioting around her head and tumbling down her back.
She was dressed in a plain work dress, but she seemed serene, magical even.
The sun wasn’t quite up, throwing pink and orange into a gray-blue sky.
There was a rare mist on the ground, obscuring her lower legs.
He must have made some sound, because the stallion turned to stare at him, and Alexandra followed the horse’s gaze. Her eyes landed on Aidan, and she regarded him guardedly.
Aidan hesitated, then nodded at her, shuffling a little closer to the fenceline. “Morning,” he offered, his voice still gruff from sleep.
“Good morning,” Alexandra returned, her tone stiff.
“Didn’t expect to see you out here,” Aidan said, feeling foolish.
“I like to come say hello to this handsome boy before starting my day,” Alexandra said, smiling up at the horse. “It’s a nice moment of calm before everything else.”
Aidan stared at her. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might need time away just as badly as he did. All of his lackadaisical drives into town came back to haunt him, making his cheeks flush. He ducked his head, hoping she didn’t notice.
“I confess I’ve never understood the appeal of horses,” Alexandra continued. “I always thought of them as just a means of getting about. Meeting this beauty, I’m starting to understand it.”
“You should see them out on the range,” Aidan said with a half-smile, forgetting himself.
He could still recall the first time he’d seen them, horses that hadn’t been touched by human hands for decades, maybe even centuries.
“It’s like… looking at something too big or magnificent for a human heart to understand. ”
“Golly,” Alexandra breathed. “Are there herds nearby?”
“Sometimes,” Aidan said. “They don’t look like him, though,” he said, nodding toward the horse.
Alexandra smiled again. “No, I don’t imagine they do,” she agreed.
She reached up and scratched at the horse’s neck again, and was rewarded with him swinging his head into her, rubbing against her as if she were a scratching post. She laughed and pushed him away gently.
“Now, see here,” she admonished without really meaning it. “You quit that, Cyprus.”
“Cyprus?” Aidan repeated.
“Oh,” Alexandra said, glancing down. Her cheeks pinked up a little. “Antony said he didn’t have a name just yet, so I’ve been calling him Cyprus. Not that I would presume to name him,” she added hurriedly.
“Cyprus,” Aidan said again. “Why?”
Alexandra’s face turned thoughtful. “Well, the Romans called copper aes Cyprium, the ore of Cyprus. Copper was like magic for them, liquid and metal all at once. His coat reminded me of that—he looks almost molten in the sunshine.”
Aidan turned to study the stallion, who was still busy trying to negotiate more scratches from Alexandra.
“Cyprus,” he said. The horse’s ears flicked toward him, and he looked in Aidan’s direction. Aidan grunted. “Very well,” he said grudgingly.
“There you are. Hello, Cyprus,” Alexandra said, patting him on the neck.
Aidan shifted from foot to foot. Alexandra looked more relaxed than he’d seen her since she’d arrived. It was a pretty enough picture, but it was also all wrong; it was supposed to be Brendan there with him, not the woman he’d married simply to solve a problem.
For just a moment, Aidan could almost hear Brendan’s laugh, could feel his hand on his shoulder. He would have been delighted by this new stud—Cyprus—and he’d never once laid eyes on him.
A sharp lump rose in Aidan’s throat and his eyes burned. He glanced up. Alexandra was watching him thoughtfully, slowly stroking Cyprus’s muzzle. Aidan cleared his throat hard, shifting backward without actually going anywhere.
“He’s not a pet,” he snapped, bristling under the gaze of those green eyes. “He doesn’t need to be coddled.”
“Everything needs to be coddled occasionally,” Alexandra countered mildly.
“Yeah, well, it won’t make him any nicer to ride,” Aidan retorted. “Don’t need a spoiled, mouthy stallion. That can be dangerous.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Alexandra said, her tone still infuriatingly even.
“And don’t you go getting any ideas that I’ll be teaching you to ride, either,” he continued. “I’ve got more than enough on my plate. You stick to the house and the children, and I’ll manage the stable and the breeding of my horses.” Even to his own ears, his words sounded petulant.
Well now you’ve gone and done it, you jackwagon, he berated himself. He wasn’t sure how to deal with her being so reasonable, especially not after suddenly remembering his brother. He didn’t want her to be polite; he wanted to fight, to have someone yell at him.
He thought he might get his wish, as something hard flitted across her face, her eyes glittering briefly. Her cheeks, like two ripe apples, lifted into a smile again.
“So, he’s going to be your new foundation stud, is he?” she inquired. “Lucky boy,” she told Cyprus.
Then, she focused back on me. “I imagine you’re wanting to improve your herd. There are probably a number of folks in town looking for a tonny riding horse.”
Aidan stared at her, surprised that she could summarize his goals so quickly and with so little information. “That’s right,” he said.
She nodded, taking a small step back to look at Cyprus. “Antony said he’s a Morgan, correct?” When Aidan nodded, she continued. “I’ve heard they’re in high demand. There’s been an effort to give them more height lately, isn’t there? They were adding thoroughbreds to the line back east.”
“That’s—that’s right,” Aidan said again. He found himself leaning closer before he knew it. “The goal was to add more speed and leg action without sacrificing the toughness and stamina of the breed.” He peered more closely at Alexandra. “How do you know so much about it?” he inquired suspiciously.
She gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I read everything I can get my hands on. When you wrote back to me, I read up as much as I could about horses.”
Aidan stared at Alexandra. The idea that she had done preparatory work before boarding a train for the other side of the country was throwing him off. They now had something in common, which ought to have made things easier. Instead, it just made Aidan feel prickly all over.
“That doesn’t make you a rancher,” he announced. The words came out sourer than he’d intended. “And this isn’t one of your romance novels.”
Alexandra stared at him for a moment. To his chagrin, she didn’t argue back at all; instead, she tilted her head back and laughed as if he’d just said something so ridiculous she couldn’t help herself.
“Don’t you fret on that account,” she said, staring directly at him as her laughter subsided. “I’m under no illusions on that score. Believe me, I know better than to ask you for help.”
She brushed past him, her skirt swishing as she did so. Aidan turned to watch her go, floored by the encounter and more than a little irritated that she had flounced off without indulging his attempts at goading her.
She paused when she had passed him. “By the by,” she said over her shoulder, “you should know that Danny has a real talent for figures. He might be a good manager for the ranch someday.”
“Danny?” Aidan said, unable to square the unruly boy he knew with the idea of him being in charge of anything, let alone the ranch’s ledger books. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure,” Alexandra said, continuing up toward the house. “I’ve already got him balancing the household account.”
Aidan stared after her, unsure if she was teasing him or not.
The very notion that the children might have their own interests was new to him.
To him, all children were the same: small, noisy little creatures with a constant coating of dirt.
Their main interests were running, shrieking, dropping things, and refusing to eat vegetables.
This wasn’t to say that he didn’t care for his niece and nephews—he did, very much so. They’d just been a problem that needed solving. That thought made him wince, not just from his own guilt, but from what Brendan would think.
I suppose I ought to get to know them better, Aidan thought. The trouble was, he had no idea how.