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UPON ARRIVING TO WORK on Monday morning, Mari headed for the barn. She knew Travis would be at the indoor arena; he and the Farris brothers were starting colts this week. Whatever that meant. Sure enough, the second item on the whiteboard instructed her to deliver sandwiches to the arena at noon. A smiley face wearing a cowboy hat punctuated that assignment.
She proceeded mucking out the stalls, her motions quicker and more confident than the previous week, but it still took an hour to complete the task to her satisfaction. She spread out fresh hay, cleaned the water buckets, checked the salt and the feeders. Then she swept out the tack room and the feed room before raking the wide center aisle and smoothing out the dirt. Her final task before lunchtime was to fill a water hose attachment with a lemon-scented dust suppressant and lightly spray over the dirt.
While she worked, her thoughts now and then strayed to Saturday night and how much she’d enjoyed hanging out with Tressa and her friends. She’d learned a couple line dances, and Chey taught her a simple western waltz plus a few spins to embellish her basic two-step. She danced with Colt again, and Tom, intentionally avoiding dancing more with Chey than the others.
When Chey drove her home after the Hideaway closed at midnight, they sat in his truck for a while. To her relief, Chey was the first to broach the topic she’d dreaded all night.
“You know I’d like us to be more than friends,” he said a little gruffly. “But tonight, I got the impression you’re not on board with that.”
She shook her head, her eyes expressing her regret. “I’m sorry. I like you a lot, but...”
“Is it only because it’s too soon? Am I rushing things?”
“No. I just don’t feel anything more than friendship.”
His shoulders drooped on a sigh. “Well, I guess it’s better hearing that now before I got in too deep. Still hurts my pride though... I think I’m a good catch.”
“You are. Some girl—”
“Yeah, yeah. Somewhere there’s the right girl for me.” His brief laugh held a hint of cynicism. “At least with you I know your rejection has nothing to do with me being an Indian.”
“Not at all. For that reason alone, I wish—”
“Is there someone else?” He frowned at a sudden thought. “Is it Travis Hollister? You hired on with him pretty quick.”
Her hesitation in answering disturbed her. “No.” Rushing her words, she said, “Can we still be friends? I’d hate to lose our conversations. I’ve learned so much from you.”
“Sure, Mari. I’ll still be your friend.”
The alarm she’d set on her cell phone tugged her from her thoughts. Time to make lunch.
Twenty minutes later, she steered the UTV up a slight incline towards the large indoor arena built the year before. When Travis gave her a tour of the facility last Monday, he explained why the arena wasn’t closer to the barn. It had to do with irrigation and drainage. That’s why the arena sat on the highest elevation on his ranch. Its location also allowed plenty of room for horse trailers and larger vehicles and equipment to access the doors and turn around. The building was beautiful, made of river rock and rough-hewn Douglas fir. Screened windows on all four sides plus a large central skylight on the vertical metal roof infused the interior with natural light.
Mari rolled the UTV close to the main entrance and switched off the ignition. If wearing muck boots and driving this vehicle made her imagine herself a real ranching girl, she pondered what riding a horse might do to her psyche. Last week, the rain and mud hadn’t cooperated with Travis’s plan to show her the rest of the ranch and introduce her to his horses. He’d alluded to riding lessons. She wasn’t certain about that idea yet.
The sliding door with its black metal hinges and handle rolled back on a well-oiled track. Inside, the air smelled fresh with just a hint of horse sweat, leather and Travis’s cologne.
She walked along the wide, enclosed corridor that separated Travis’s office, a restroom and small kitchen area from the main section of the building. She peeked into his office, but the large oak desk was unoccupied. Voices floated towards her from the arena. When she rounded the corner, she heard Travis say in a calm but carrying tone, “He’s tipping his nose out. Redirect. Make him think it’s his idea, Squeak... There you go.”
Travis stood with his forearms resting on the top rung of the fence surrounding the round pen, his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, hands clasped in front of him, and his broken leg kneeling propped on an overturned five-gallon bucket. His placid voice contradicted the impatience in his profile; it was obvious, his longing to be inside the pen in Squeak’s place.
As Mari drew closer, he turned his head. He pushed the brim of his hat up, a smile lighting his features. “Hey, there,” he said.
“Hi.”
His sooty eyes skimmed across her face before dropping to the canvas bag looped over her wrist. “Lunch?”
“As instructed. Is it okay I crossed this assignment off the whiteboard before you ate?”
He chuckled at her sassy rejoinder. He returned his attention to Squeak and the chestnut colt in the center of the pen. “Okay, Squeak,” he called. “Restless has had enough for the day. Give him some cuddles and kisses before turning him out. You can start on Zeke after lunch.”
“Restless?” Mari asked as she watched the cowboy rub his hands over the colt’s neck and head while mumbling sweet words of praise.
“He has trouble standing still. Let’s eat over there.” He tilted his head towards the far wall of the building to a permanent row of metal stadium seats; down the road, he planned to host training clinics here. It had become his life mission to help teach others the benefits of natural horsemanship.
She recalled the mixture of humility and pride in his demeanor when he shared his vision with her, his confession that he was still learning himself, and would never stop “as long as I’ve got two eyes, two ears, and a brain in between.”
Mari admired his ambition. What would he think of her simple, unsophisticated goals: a home of her own, a husband and children?
He eased onto his crutches and hobbled beside her to the seating area. “How’s your leg this week?” she asked.
“I don’t have pain anymore. I’m seeing the doctor in three weeks. Spence told me if the cast isn’t off by his wedding, I can’t be in the wedding pictures.” He chuckled at her startled expression. “He was kidding.”
They sat beside each other, and she handed him the bag. “I made one of everything for you guys. Ham, chicken and turkey.”
“Great.” He unwrapped a sandwich and took a bite, his gaze focused on the middle distance, a frown wrinkling his brow. She assumed frustration at his inability to help more with the horses still grated, so she bit down on a surprised gasp when he said, “Heard you went dancing on Saturday night.”
Small towns.
“Who told you that?”
“Grady stopped by yesterday and mentioned it. He heard it from Tressa.” He took another bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed before saying, “Did you have fun? I’m told Chey was there too. And Colt Montgomery? Haven’t seen him in a while.”
“That’s right. I can dance the two-step. Colt taught me. And the waltz. Chey showed me how.”
Travis cast her a sideways glance, his face unreadable. “Good to hear Colt is socializing. He was a year ahead of me in school. All he had to do to catch a girl was wink one of his blue eyes.”
“His eyes sure are pretty.”
A growl infiltrated his voice. “Chey didn’t mind Colt dancing with you?”
“Oh... He might have, but...” She worried her bottom lip as she debated her words. “Listen, Travis... I’m not dating Chey.”
His frame tautened. “That so?”
“I thought about it. I wish there could’ve... But he doesn’t make me feel...”
“Feel?”
Did she only imagine the sudden intense quality in his voice? Squeak and Mutt interrupted whatever her answer might have been.
Squeak smacked his lips. “Lunch! I’m so hungry, I could eat a h—”
“Don’t even think it, you old codger,” Travis said.
After lunch, Travis suggested a tour of the ranch. “Now the sun’s out.” As he and Mari headed for the exit, his gaze landed on her bare head. “You’re gonna need a hat soon. Especially when we go horseback riding. I’ll check if Whitney has one you can borrow.”
“I’m going into Big Timber on Saturday. Bet I can find one at the thrift store.” From the corner of her eye, she noticed the sharp look he gave her.
They paused at the kitchen to refill his insulated coffee mug. Outside, he propped his crutches on the front seat of the UTV before hopping sideways onto the dump bed. He directed her gaze to the road ahead. “Head to the chicken foot and hang a left.”
“Chicken foot?” She stared at him over her shoulder.
His eyes glittered beneath the brim of his hat. “Where the road forks in three directions. At the bottom of the draw.”
“Draw?”
“Just drive.”
She rolled her eyes at him before pressing her foot a little too hard on the gas pedal. The UTV lurched forward.
Travis grabbed the back of her seat. “Whoa, there! You trying to bust my other leg?”
“Oops.”
He laughed. “Okay. I see your ruffled feathers. I’ll try to keep the ranch lingo to a minimum.”
At the bottom of the incline where the road split in three, she turned left, a smile playing on her mouth. This was fun. The warm spring day magnified her pleasure. Only a few white clouds spotted the vast blue sky. On either side of the narrow dirt road, greening grass mingled with budding wildflowers of white, gold, orange and cornflower blue. Could be they were cornflowers. She didn’t know. She’d stop by the Reading Room during her break on Wednesday to see if Shawna had a book on Montana wildflowers.
“Stop here,” Travis said. “Open that gate. This is the southern pasture.”
Mari jumped out of the vehicle. “Are there loose horses in there?” she asked a little worriedly.
“Not right now. But close the gate after you anyway. Good to get in the habit.”
Her petite stature forced her to step on the bottom board of the gate to reach the rope looped over the fence post. To her delight, the gate swung forwards with her still on it. She let out a whoop and twisted sideways to wave at Travis. He shook his head, his cheeks dimpling.
“It’s the simple things,” she said as she climbed into the driver’s seat.
“I’m glad you’re having fun.” He sounded both amused and pleased.
After she’d closed and secured the gate, they continued a few hundred yards farther before he asked her to stop again. He leaned forward, his arm brushing her shoulder as he brought her attention to the four fenced sections within the larger pasture. Only one of the four sections held horses. “Those are my broodmares,” Travis said. “And that’s Silver King.”
The stallion’s name suited him, his healthy coat shiny as a silver coin beneath the midday sun. He stood tall and regal in the center of the tree-studded pasture while the mares grazed nearby. Mari counted the horses. “He has eight mares all to himself?”
“Fifteen. The others foaled this year. They’re with their babies. They get a year off before I turn them out with the stallion again.”
“So, he, uh, hangs out with the mares all day? I thought stallions stayed separate, and the mares are brought to them when...the time is right.”
Laughter colored Travis’s reply. “All my mares are pasture bred. I believe it makes for a healthier horse.”
“Why are the other pastures empty?”
He playfully bumped her shoulder with his. “Well, starting next week, you’ll see a couple new tasks on the whiteboard. Dragging and mowing.” He explained how he rotated the horses to a new section of the pasture every week or two, and what she needed to do to the old section to encourage the grass to grow again.
“I didn’t realize there were so many details to managing a ranch.” Mari threw him an admiring glance. “How do you remember all this stuff?”
His face took on a pleased radiance at her interest and respect. “All ingrained in my head from when I was in diapers, and my dad put me in front of him on his horse’s saddle and showed me the Bar H for the first time.”
She could picture him, perched high on a horse’s back, bundled against his father’s chest, his curious grey eyes peering around him with wonder. His childhood must have been glorious.
A soft, wistful sigh slipped from her lips. She lowered her eyes from his sudden, sharp gaze and sought for a distraction. “Where are the other mares? Dusty Lady and Faithful?”
He pointed straight ahead. “On the other side of that rise. Let’s see how they’re doing.”
The seven mares and their foals had their own sweet little pasture with a narrow creek cutting across one corner. At the UTV’s approach, Rocky and Stella emerged from beneath the canopy of a willow tree and dashed towards the gate with joyful barks.
Mari turned off the ignition, and Travis reached for his crutches and scooted off the back. At his soft whistle, the dogs crawled beneath the gate to receive petting and praise. They licked Mari’s outstretched hand before returning their attention to Travis.
“Do the dogs stay here all day?”
“They’ll check all the pastures throughout the day, but they spend most of their time with the foals.” He moved to stand at the fence, arms propped on the top rail. “Come see how my two youngest have grown since you saw them last.”
She came forward and stepped up onto the bottom fence rail for a better view.
As if they knew he was talking about them, the two littlest foals ambled towards the fence where she stood beside Travis, their tails high in the air, spindly legs prancing. A couple feet from the fence, the foal Mari named Diamond Girl skidded to a halt. The other foal bumped into her and almost toppled over. He bobbled his head, his expression puzzled. His mother glanced up and snorted a gentle warning before continuing to nibble at the grass.
Mari laughed. “Oh, they’re so adorable. Have you named the other one?”
Travis’s bare arm brushed against hers where it rested on the top rail; soft, sun-golden hair tickled her skin. “Not yet. I like to wait a few weeks until I get a better idea of their personalities.”
“Poor little guy. He looks dizzy.”
“Dizzy and Diamond Girl. Why not?”
A glow spread in her chest; her heart thumped faster. “As easy as that?”
His arm settled firmly against hers, warm and solid. “I like the simple things too.”
Somewhere alongside the creek, a bird sang—a high, wild whistle that sounded like “cur-lee, cur-lee.”
“Ah,” Travis said, pleasure in his voice. “A long-billed curlew. Over there.” He brought his head down closer to hers, his cheek touching her temple as he directed her gaze to where a large bird with a cinnamon-colored chest and speckled wings poked its long, curved bill through the reeds. “There must be a nest close by.”
“Maybe it’s drawn to the mama horses and knows this is a safe place,” Mari said. A familiar sadness—one she hadn’t brought to light for weeks—pushed against her happiness. She watched Diamond Girl suckle at her mother’s teat. “How long do the mares nurse their foals?” she wanted to know, the breeziness in her tone not betraying her darkening emotions.
“I wean the foals when they’re about six months old.”
“That means they can’t go back to their mothers?”
His slow sigh swept across her cheek. “No. I separate the babies from the mamas. It’s one of my least favorite jobs, but I try to keep it as painless as I can. A clean break is best. When the time comes, I move the foals to their own pasture, out of sight and earshot of the mamas. Those first few days can be scary for the foals, and if the mothers overhear their cries, they’ll get frantic. So, I put a babysitter in with the weanlings, one of my older, retired geldings who comforts and reassures them. I’ll leave them alone for a while, let them settle, find their safe place. Once they’re in a peaceful disposition, I’ll begin halter-breaking them. Mutt’s doing that for me tomorrow. You can watch... Mari? What is it?” He took her hand in a gentle clasp, his voice soothing. “Why are you so sad? Was it the word halter-breaking? It’s not a bad thing like it might sound...”
She shook her head, tears swimming in her eyes. Embarrassed, she pulled away from his touch.
“Mari.”
His cell phone rang, and he answered it with a show of reluctance. The abrupt tension in his frame drew her gaze to his face. “Tell him we’re on our way.” He ended the call.
“Mari,” he said, his eyes filled with equal parts frustration and urgency. “Your cousin’s been trying to reach you. Pam’s at the hospital in Livingston. She started labor a few hours ago.”