A Ranch for His Family

Neal drank his fill, then pulled off his hat and poured the water over his head and neck. “God, that feels wonderful.”

“Well, don’t waste it. It’s a long ride home,” she scolded.

He eased his hat back and handed her the canteen. “It will be a long ride if you keep harping at me. My skull hurts enough without you beating me over the head with how stupid I’ve been. Believe it or not, it did dawn on me that I overestimated my ability.”

He was oddly pleased to see the look of concern that filled her eyes.

“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” she asked.

“Nothing except a large bruise on my pride and a headache. My ribs are sore, but I don’t think there’s any new damage.”

She curled her fingers lightly around his wrist. His gaze was drawn to her hand. It felt cool against his hot skin, soft yet capable. Her touch had always been magic. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her breathless.

After a moment, she seemed to notice his gaze, and she jerked her hand away. “Have you been out in the sun all this time?” she asked quickly.

“Yes,” he admitted. Maybe that was what was wrong with him. He’d been in the sun too long. Or maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought. Why else would he be thinking about making love to her under the wide-open sky, to a woman who had left him and married another man?

She wouldn’t have married him if you had married her first.

The thought filled him with regret. His idea of a life without strings had made it easy for her to leave him.

Had it been easy?

He rubbed his forehead as the pain came pounding back. Here he was again, going over what-ifs in the hot sun. “I don’t suppose you have any aspirin?”

“I think there’s some in the first-aid kit. Let me check.” She stood and began to rummage in her bulging saddlebags.

“You’ve got a first-aid kit?” he asked in surprise.

“What can I say? I think like a nurse,” she snapped. “I tried to pack everything I thought I might need, but the ambulance wouldn’t fit. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

She knelt down and handed him two aspirin. He swallowed them with another long swig from the canteen and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I thought a ride might do me some good, help loosen up my muscles, take my mind off of things.”

He studied her face. Softly, he said, “I was going up to Little Bowl Springs.”

Her gaze slid away from his. It seemed that she hadn’t forgotten their special place. “I guessed as much. How’d you lose your horse?”

“No story there,” he said bitterly. “She stumbled in a gopher hole, and I fell off.”

He closed his eye and sighed. “Can we discuss this on the way home?” The cool water had helped briefly, but his headache was back with a vengeance. He wavered on his knees. The heat seemed to be smothering him, making it hard to breathe.

ROBYN BIT HER lip as she studied Neal’s pale face. Relief at having found him made her almost giddy. Thank God he was safe. It took every ounce of self-control she could muster not to throw her arms around him in a heartfelt hug. It was only because she was glad he wasn’t hurt, she told herself. Not because she wanted to hold him close one more time.

She dismissed that disturbing thought. He’d been out in the sun for hours. She could plainly see he wasn’t in any shape to spend another few hours in it riding home. Little Bowl Springs was only a mile away. There was shade and plenty of water; they could rest up and ride home in the cool of the evening.

It made sense, except she had never expected to go back there again. Especially with him.

She stood up and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Ellie answered on the second ring.

“I found him,” Robyn said.

“Thank heavens!” Relief filled Ellie’s voice. “Is he all right?”

“He’s had a fall and too much sun, but he seems okay.”

“Where are you?”

“About a mile south of Little Bowl Springs.”

“We’re by the windmill in Section Three. I don’t think we can get a truck all the way up to the springs, but we can get one as far as the south side of the creek about three miles from you.”

Robyn stood aside as Neal climbed to his feet and leaned against her horse. He grabbed the saddle horn with both hands and tried to put his foot in the stirrup, but he missed. He hung on to the horn and rested his head on the tooled leather. She made up her mind.

“Look, we’re going to head up to the spring and wait until evening to start back. I need to get him out of the sun. I’ll call you before we leave there, and you can meet us at the creek crossing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m not used to this heat, either, and there’s no rush to get him home. Is Mom with you?”

“No. She’s gone to pick up Chance. She said to tell you she’ll wait for you at home.”

“Good.” That was one less worry for now. She said goodbye, folded the phone closed and stuffed it into her pocket. She gathered the reins and grabbed Neal’s arm. He tried to shrug off her hand.

“I can make it,” he growled.

“Yes, you can. If I let go, you’ll make it right back to the ground.” She paid no attention to his objections as she held his booted foot and placed it in the stirrup. Then she got behind him and shoved as he pulled himself up into the saddle.

“You never could keep your hands off my butt,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, shut up and get behind the saddle. I’m driving,” she snapped in irritation.

“You’re the boss.” He eased behind the saddle and spoke gently to the horse that shifted uneasily at the maneuver.

“Lean back so I can get on, or you’ll end up with my boot in your ear.” The mental image helped soothe her irritation. She swung up into the saddle, and the horse sidestepped at the extra weight. “Easy, fella,” she murmured.

Immediately, she regretted her decision to have Neal ride behind her. His arms circled her as he leaned forward and held on. His broad chest pressed against her back, and the feeling brought a quick flash of memories. Memories of the nights when he’d held her like this in the dark and made her feel so loved and cherished.

“You smell wonderful—like spring flowers,” he murmured against her hair.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t dare. Her emotions were a wild jumble of anger, guilt, longing and regret. She nudged the horse forward. A mile farther on, they descended into the winding canyon again and followed the floor of it until they rounded a sharp bend and rode into paradise.

Tall cottonwood trees filled the small box canyon. Their leaves flashed silver and green in the faint breeze that penetrated the narrow white limestone walls. A spring burst from halfway up the wall at the back of the canyon and fell softly onto stone steps. Over the centuries, the water had carved out a hollow in the stone and created a bowl where the water pooled, and then it slipped over the rim to fall into the next bowl, and then the next, until it splashed into a large pond at the foot of the cottonwoods.

Little Bowl Springs. It was a special place that belonged to a distant, happy past. It lay almost exactly the same distance from her home as from Neal’s. It had made the perfect spot for them to meet as kids and while away the long summer days. Later, when they were older, it became their special romantic rendezvous.

She drew the horse to a stop beneath the trees. “You can let go now,” she said tartly. He did and slid off over the horse’s rump. Perversely, she missed the feelings of his arms around her as soon as he let go.

Chiding herself for the fool she was, she swung her leg over the horse’s neck and dropped to the ground. After leading the pinto to the top of the canyon, she tethered him where he could crop grass and reach the water without difficulty. She began to unsaddle him. She unbuckled the girth, but before she could lift the saddle, Neal brushed her hands aside and lifted it easily.