Page 12 of Christmas with the Cowgirl
She didn’t miss the subtext there and guessed that before they’d arrived in Last Stand and the cloud of grief had lifted at last, there hadn’t been much drawing going on.Or if it had, it was probably grimmer, darker.Certainly not a pair of happy new equine friends.
She crouched down to look the boy who was about twelve hands tall in the eye.“Thank you so very much, Jeremy.It’s beautiful.I’m going to frame it, and there’s a perfect spot for it in my office, where I can see it all the time.”
Jeremy beamed at her.
“And someday,” his surrogate uncle said, “when you’re a famous artist, she can brag that she has one of your early drawings.”
Jeremy laughed, but Riley thought she saw a beam of joy in the child’s eyes, as if the words had made a dream sound real.Further proof this wasn’t just some token relationship between the boy and his father’s boss.And for that alone, she felt some of her natural reserve and wariness melt away.
Then she saw the boy eyeing her horse and smiled.“Come on, you should meet King.He was pretty famous in his day, too.”
“He was?”
“He’s retired now, but he was a world champion not too long ago.”
Jeremy gave her a rather shy look.“Nic told me what you used to do.She even showed me video of when you won.It was amazing.”
“Thank you.”They’d reached her patient horse now.“World Champion Hill Country King, meet Master Jeremy Thorpe,” she said formally.The horse stretched out his head and sniffed.Jeremy gave her a questioning look, and she nodded.The boy patted the horse’s soft nose.She reached into her jacket pocket and grabbed the little bag of sugar cubes she always had with her when riding the sweet old boy.
“You know how to do this?”she asked, showing them to Jeremy.
“Yes,” he said, his tone so earnest it stirred that warmth in her again.She gave the boy one of the cubes, and he put it on his flattened hand and held it out to the horse as if he’d been doing it all his young life.
“Perfect,” she said when the boy giggled as King swiped it softly and neatly off his palm.“And now you’re officially friends.”
“Excuse me,” Miles said.“As the only non-Texan here, I have to ask.Champion at…?”
She found the fact that he now considered Jeremy a Texan rather endearing.So she gave him a big smile when she answered.She thought she saw a flicker of tension go through him and wondered why.Surely he had to be used to women smiling at him?All the time, given his job and where he did it.But she answered evenly enough.
“Barrel racing.It’s what I used to do.Now I train barrel horses.”
“Barrel racing,” he said, his brow furrowed.“That’s a rodeo thing, right?Where you go out and careen around three barrels in a cloverleaf like a bat out of—” he glanced at Jeremy “—a hot place?”
She couldn’t help laughing.“Pretty much,” she agreed, appreciating his care.
“She goes really fast,” Jeremy said.“And they lean way far.It looked like they were going to tip over.”Then the boy looked over toward the bench rock.“What were you lookin’ at?”
“My favorite view on the whole ranch.Come on, I’ll show you.”
Jeremy followed without hesitation.She wondered if his companion would accompany them, or if this was merely a favor he was doing for Jeremy and his dad, and he couldn’t wait to get out of here.She reminded herself of how wrong Nic had been about her Hollywood man and told herself to stop judging a man she’d met exactly yesterday.And in fact, he did follow them over to the bench.
But their reaction had her rethinking that.Because they were both frowning.She looked out over the vast view of the rolling hills, the changing terrain with rock outcroppings here, clusters of trees there, birds soaring overhead, and the glint of the Pedernales River in the distance and wondered what anybody could find to frown at.
“Uncle Miles?”Jeremy was looking at the man, clearly puzzled.
Brow still furrowed, Miles Flint scanned the vista from one side to the other.Then he looked down at Jeremy.“I think so, bud.I think it is.”
Jeremy turned his gaze to her, his mouth agape.“It’s here!”he yelped.
She looked from one to the other, with no idea what on earth they were talking about.But Miles was smiling widely now, as if he were amazed.She suddenly thought she had a clue about how he got so much done in such a competitive, hard-driving business.Because that smile would motivate anyone.
Hoping she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt, she asked, “You think it’s what?”
“Ever had an artist out here, a painter?”
That startled her and she drew back slightly.“A very long time ago, yes.Why?”
“Because this exact view, only carpeted in bluebonnets, is hanging on my wall at home.”
