Page 23 of Falling for the Cowgirl
Judd cleared his throat. “You can pull your hat down and ride blind ’round a swamp. But that’s a surefire way to get stuck.”
Again, Jericho was tempted to pretend ignorance. But he was too adept at picking up clues to miss what Judd was telling him. He closed his journal, making sure to tuck the picture of Rodney well out of sight. Then he pushed himself up until he was sitting, his bare feet planted on the plank floor.
“Do you want me to admit I’m attracted to Ivy?”
“Reckon it’s about time.”
Jericho had always fought against such an admission. Even now he didn’t want to acknowledge that maybe—just maybe—he’d been drawn to Ivy all along. Whatever the case, he couldn’t give in to the craving.
“Admitting to it won’t do her or me any good.” That was an understatement of a lifetime.
“Snubbing it ain’t doin’ you a lick of good either.”
Was Judd referring to the interaction with Hance earlier that evening? Jericho hadn’t intended to get carried away with the target shooting and the bullying. Watching Ivy sitting on the bench with Hance had been hard enough. But seeing them holding hands and cozying up together had been more than he could stand.
“He was moving too fast with her.” Jericho’s words came out defensive and sounded weak, even to his own ears.
“Reckon he could have been movin’ as slow as a half-baked turtle in the desert, and it still would have been too fast in your book.”
Jericho rubbed a hand across his forehead and kneaded his temples. The bald, plain-faced truth was that he’d been jealous. He didn’t like seeing Ivy with any other men, not any more now than he had in the past.
“Blast it all.” He blew out a tense breath. “What should I do?”
Maybe he needed to get a bed at the hotel in town after all. He’d told himself he was only staying for a couple of days, but now that he was situated, he hadn’t wanted to leave.
“Instead of skirtin’ a swamp, best thing is to slog through it.”
Judd insinuated that walking around the issue of his attraction to Ivy would cause him to get stuck. But he was already stuck. Stuck in Fairplay. Stuck at Healing Springs Ranch. And stuck with seeing Ivy every time he walked two steps in any direction. “I can’t.”
The pages of Judd’s Bible rustled as he flipped through them. “Good thing for us, we ain’t alone in the slogging. The Lord says in Psalm 37, ‘The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD: and he delighteth in his way. Though he fall,he shall not be utterly cast down: for the LORDupholdeth him with his hand.’”
Jericho wanted to let God direct him. And he prayed that if the time came when he took a tumble, the Lord would be right beside him holding him up. But that didn’t mean he was dragging a woman into trouble beside him. His dad had done that, and look where it had led him. When his mom’s body had been found strangled and lifeless, Dad had fallen hard, had been utterly cast down, and hadn’t ever pulled himself back up.
“The best thing I can do for Ivy is make sure she finds happiness, but that won’t happen with me.”
Judd gently closed the Good Book and brushed a hand over its worn cover. “If you take the time to get to know Ivy the way I do, you’ll see it don’t take much to make her happy.”
Before Jericho could think of a response, Judd stood, blew out the lantern, then headed out the door, leaving him alone in darkness.
For the briefest of moments, Jericho entertained the idea of getting to know Ivy better. What would it be like to openly court her, to sit on the bench next to the house, hold her hand, and pass the time doing nothing but talking?
He couldn’t think of a nicer way to spend an evening.
No. An inner protest jolted him upright. He hadn’t ever and wasn’t about to start letting himself become infatuated with Ivy McQuaid. She’d always been off-limits. She still was. And that’s all there was to it.
Chapter
8
The dust blew against Ivy’s face, stinging her eyes. The late June heat combined with the lack of rain over recent weeks had caused the ground to dry up worse than the sun-bleached bones of a cattle carcass.
She tugged the bandana up higher over her nose to keep from breathing the dust particles, and she tipped the brim of her hat lower to shield her face as best she could. But her eyes burned, and her throat was scratchy anyway. The open rangeland, with nothing more than sagebrush, shrubs, and shortgrass, offered little protection from the flying dirt that now coated every inch of her from hat to boots.
Regardless, she loved the wide-open sky, the freedom of the vast prairies, and the view of the mountains no matter which way she rode. And she didn’t want to be anywhere else. Though the hour was growing late and the shadows were lengthening, she wasn’t ready to head home.
She’d made it three whole days cooped up in Greta’s hot kitchen. But somehow she was always causing problems.Yesterday, she’d left the ax out, only to have a porcupine chew the handle off overnight. Early this morning, she’d forgotten to close the garden gate, and the rabbits had slipped inside and eaten half the new beanstalks. When she’d accidentally dropped a pot of hot pie filling, Greta had graciously suggested she take the afternoon off.
Ivy hadn’t needed a second prodding, had rushed outside and begged Judd for something to do. He’d sent her out with salt for each of the pastures. The long ride across the land, the hot sunshine, and the blowing wind had reminded her why she wanted her own place.
