Lasso Her Heart

Bethany said nothing.

Outside Cody sought the refuge of the barn where the prized Thoroughbred racehorses the ranch was known for breeding were housed. He picked up a grooming brush from the pristine storage area beneath the display of trophies and ribbons and moved down the row of stalls. He stopped at the next to last stall and patted the high solid rump of Blackhawk, a black Arabian stallion.

Blackhawk snorted a greeting and stamped one back hoof. He stepped to one side as if making room for Cody in the narrow stall. Cody began the rhythmic grooming routine, ignoring the fact that not a hair was out of place on the massive animal. Blackhawk let out a breath that warmed the cramped space, then shifted restlessly.

“Easy, big guy,” Cody murmured, stroking the horse’s neck. “Just stopped by for a little company. We’ll ride tomorrow.”

He considered his father’s suggestion that he take Bethany for a tour of the ranch. Ian rarely asked him for anything. Ever since Ty and their mother had died, it was as if Ian was constantly afraid that he might lose Cody, too. In the old days he and Ian had enjoyed debating each other on controversial topics such as religion and politics. No more. These days Ian would occasionally let slip a look of disapproval as he had at the dinner table when Cody rose to leave, but he would say nothing.

Sometimes Cody wanted to shout at his father. “I don’t have cancer and Ty didn’t die of a heart attack or because you said the wrong thing to him. He died because he got buried in snow and couldn’t dig his way out. He died because I wasn’t there to dig him out.”

But this last was never uttered—not to his father, not to anyone he knew, not even to God. It was just there, deep inside, the drumbeat that accompanied him everywhere he went.

He forced his thoughts back to Bethany. If he did take her out to show her the ranch, then maybe the best idea would be using one of the ranch’s off-road vehicles.

“I can’t imagine she rides,” he mumbled.

Blackhawk snorted.

Cody stroked the horse’s mane. “There’s something about the ranch that seems to set her off.”

Having said it, Cody realized it was true. For somebody like her, all city sophistication and highbrow clothes, maybe the setting was just a little too rustic. Some women were like that. Cynthia had only pretended she loved everything that he did about the place. The majesty of the setting. The peace and quiet. The distance from the woes and tribulations of life in the city. The sense of being a part of God’s world rather than trying to fit God into the human world.

No, Bethany didn’t strike him as a nature lover. She’d thought she was packing for Chicago with all its theaters, art galleries and shops. Now that he thought about it, she had really seemed to come alive the closer they got to Phoenix. It was on the way back that she’d gone silent with every mile they traveled across the desert and into the foothills, leaving civilization in the dust.

Blackhawk shifted and gave an indignant whinny as if reading his thoughts.

“You think maybe we could change her mind, Hawk?”

The horse flung his massive head from side to side. Cody laughed. “Yeah, go ahead and pretend you understand what I’m thinking. I’m not buying it.”

“Do you always talk to the horses?”

Cody dropped the brush as Blackhawk repositioned himself for a view of the intruder. Bethany took an involuntary step back.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Cody said, retrieving the brush and moving out of the stall to stand next to her.

She pointed to Blackhawk. “Is that your horse?”

Cody nodded, trying to gauge her mood. “Do you ride?”

She smiled. “I have ridden—as a little girl. My uncle had a farm in Virginia. But it was a pony. Nothing like this guy.”

“Horses come in other sizes,” Cody said. “In fact,” he continued, “I was thinking we might go for a ride tomorrow.” No, you were thinking about NOT going for a ride.

“Really?” In the shadows cast by the low work lighting it was hard to read her expression, but her voice registered doubt.

“Sure. You’ve only seen about one-hundredth of the ranch. I could give you the grand tour.” In for a penny, in for a dollar, as Mom used to say.

She looked up and down the row of stalls. “I’d need a horse that’s gentle and slow and—”

“Leave it to me,” Cody interrupted and realized he was excited about the prospect of showing off the place he loved. Maybe she’d like it once she saw it through his eyes. “Seven o’clock?”

“In the morning?”

“Best time,” he assured her. “Before the sun gets too hot.”

She sighed. “Okay, but you’d better have a thermos of hot, strong coffee in your saddlebags, cowboy.”

Cody laughed and walked with her out of the barn. They strolled toward the guesthouse in silence.

“Did you come out to the barn for a reason?” he asked as they passed the main house and waved to Honey through the kitchen window.

“I wanted to apologize and thank you.”

“For what—on both counts?”

“It was very generous of you to give up your day for me.”

“We aim to please, ma’am,” Cody said in his best Western drawl. “And the apology?”

They walked for several steps before she replied. “Look, it’s not something I want to go into, but sometimes I’m—that is, I can be a little—”

“Unapproachable?” As soon as the word was out of his mouth he wanted it back.

“I am not unapproachable,” she argued. “I may not be the constant life of the party—if that’s what you’re looking for—but I have always been open and—”

Cody held up his hands in self-defense. “That came out all wrong. Now I’m the one who’s apologizing. It’s just that at the airport and then again today, you seemed…” He mentally ran through a list of possible adjectives and rejected them all.

“Well, I’m not,” she said firmly as if he had delivered the list. They had reached the guesthouse and she marched straight to the door.

“Look, all I’m trying to say is that if this is a bad time for you, Erika and Dad would understand,” Cody explained, losing some of his own patience at the way she seemed always on the defensive. “There are at least half a dozen professional wedding planners in Phoenix and a gazillion in Chicago that they could hire.”

She wheeled around on him and in the light from the multiple windows surrounding the entrance, he could see fire in her eyes. “I am a professional,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Of course. I mean, that’s not what—”

The door to the guesthouse slammed, leaving him alone on the stone porch.

“Does this mean we are still riding tomorrow?” he called through the closed door, knowing she was still there since she hadn’t moved past any of the windows yet.

No answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Seven with gentle steed and coffee as ordered, okay?”

Silence.

“Okay. Seven-thirty but that’s my final offer.”