think so.”
“No.” Louella sobered as she studied her daughter, this mystery she had somehow given birth to. So pretty, she mused, so cool, so sure of herself. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re too much your father’s daughter for that. You’ll do the time, Tess.”
And she wondered if her daughter would get more out of it than a third interest in a cattle ranch. Would the year soften the edges, Louella wondered, or hone them?
She lifted both cups, handed one to Tess. “When do you leave?”
“First thing in the morning.” She sighed loud and long. “I’ve got to go buy some goddamn boots,” she muttered, then with a small smile toasted herself. “What the hell. It’s only a year.”
W HILE TESS WAS DRINKING CHAMPAGNE IN HER mother’s kitchen, Lily was standing at the edge of a pasture, watching horses graze. She’d never seen anything more beautiful than the way the wind blew through their manes, the way the mountains rose behind, all blue and white.
For the first time in months, she had slept through the night, without pills, without nightmares, lulled by the quiet.
It was quiet now. She could hear the grind of machinery in the distance. Just a hum in the air. She’d heard Willa talking to someone that morning about harvesting grain, but she had wanted to stay out of the way. She could be alone here with the horses, bothering no one, with no one bothering her.
For three days she’d been left to her own devices. No one said anything when she wandered the house, or went out toexplore the ranch. The men would tip their hats to her if they passed by, and she imagined there were comments and murmurings. But she didn’t care about that.
The air here was sweet to the taste. Wherever she stood, it seemed, she could see something beautiful—water rushing over rocks in a stream, the flash of a bird in the forest, deer bounding across the road.
She thought a year of this would be paradise.
Adam stood for a moment, the bucket in his hand, watching her. She came out here every day, he knew. He’d seen her wander away from the house, the barn, the paddocks, and head for this pasture. She would stand by the fence, very still, very quiet.
Very alone.
He’d waited, believing she needed to be alone. Healing was often a solitary matter. But he also believed she needed a friend. So now he walked toward her, careful to make enough noise so that she wouldn’t be startled. When she turned, her smile came slow and hesitant, but it came.
“I’m sorry. I’m not in the way here, am I?”
“You’re not in anyone’s way.”
Because she was already learning to be relaxed around him, she shifted her gaze back to the horses. “I love looking at them.”
“You can have a closer look.” He didn’t need the bucket of grain to lure any of the horses to the fence. Any of them would come for him at a quiet call. He handed the bucket to Lily. “Just give it a shake.”
She did, then watched, delighted, as several pairs of ears perked up. Horses trotted over to crowd at the fence. Without thinking, she dipped a hand into the grain and fed a pretty buckskin mare.
“You’ve been around horses before.”
At Adam’s comment, she pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry. I should have asked before I fed her.”
“It’s all right.” He was sorry to have startled that smile away from her face. That quick light that had come into eyes that were somewhere between gray and blue. Like lakewater, he thought, caught in the shadows of sunset. “Come along, Molly.”
At her name, the roan mare pranced along the fence toward the gate. Adam led her into a corral and slipped a bridle over her head.
Self-conscious again, Lily wiped grain dust on her jeans, took one hesitant step closer. “Her name’s Molly?”
“Yes.” He kept his eyes on the horse, giving Lily a chance to settle again.
“She’s pretty.”
“She’s a good saddle horse. Kind. Her gait’s a bit rough, but she tries. Don’t you, girl? Can you
“No.” Louella sobered as she studied her daughter, this mystery she had somehow given birth to. So pretty, she mused, so cool, so sure of herself. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re too much your father’s daughter for that. You’ll do the time, Tess.”
And she wondered if her daughter would get more out of it than a third interest in a cattle ranch. Would the year soften the edges, Louella wondered, or hone them?
She lifted both cups, handed one to Tess. “When do you leave?”
“First thing in the morning.” She sighed loud and long. “I’ve got to go buy some goddamn boots,” she muttered, then with a small smile toasted herself. “What the hell. It’s only a year.”
W HILE TESS WAS DRINKING CHAMPAGNE IN HER mother’s kitchen, Lily was standing at the edge of a pasture, watching horses graze. She’d never seen anything more beautiful than the way the wind blew through their manes, the way the mountains rose behind, all blue and white.
For the first time in months, she had slept through the night, without pills, without nightmares, lulled by the quiet.
It was quiet now. She could hear the grind of machinery in the distance. Just a hum in the air. She’d heard Willa talking to someone that morning about harvesting grain, but she had wanted to stay out of the way. She could be alone here with the horses, bothering no one, with no one bothering her.
For three days she’d been left to her own devices. No one said anything when she wandered the house, or went out toexplore the ranch. The men would tip their hats to her if they passed by, and she imagined there were comments and murmurings. But she didn’t care about that.
The air here was sweet to the taste. Wherever she stood, it seemed, she could see something beautiful—water rushing over rocks in a stream, the flash of a bird in the forest, deer bounding across the road.
She thought a year of this would be paradise.
Adam stood for a moment, the bucket in his hand, watching her. She came out here every day, he knew. He’d seen her wander away from the house, the barn, the paddocks, and head for this pasture. She would stand by the fence, very still, very quiet.
Very alone.
He’d waited, believing she needed to be alone. Healing was often a solitary matter. But he also believed she needed a friend. So now he walked toward her, careful to make enough noise so that she wouldn’t be startled. When she turned, her smile came slow and hesitant, but it came.
“I’m sorry. I’m not in the way here, am I?”
“You’re not in anyone’s way.”
Because she was already learning to be relaxed around him, she shifted her gaze back to the horses. “I love looking at them.”
“You can have a closer look.” He didn’t need the bucket of grain to lure any of the horses to the fence. Any of them would come for him at a quiet call. He handed the bucket to Lily. “Just give it a shake.”
She did, then watched, delighted, as several pairs of ears perked up. Horses trotted over to crowd at the fence. Without thinking, she dipped a hand into the grain and fed a pretty buckskin mare.
“You’ve been around horses before.”
At Adam’s comment, she pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry. I should have asked before I fed her.”
“It’s all right.” He was sorry to have startled that smile away from her face. That quick light that had come into eyes that were somewhere between gray and blue. Like lakewater, he thought, caught in the shadows of sunset. “Come along, Molly.”
At her name, the roan mare pranced along the fence toward the gate. Adam led her into a corral and slipped a bridle over her head.
Self-conscious again, Lily wiped grain dust on her jeans, took one hesitant step closer. “Her name’s Molly?”
“Yes.” He kept his eyes on the horse, giving Lily a chance to settle again.
“She’s pretty.”
“She’s a good saddle horse. Kind. Her gait’s a bit rough, but she tries. Don’t you, girl? Can you
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