Mariska

June in Montana is nothing like December. The last time we were here, at Stuart’s uncle Bill’s ranch, the vast expanse of prairie was pale beige and deep brown under a steely winter sky. Now the grasses are deep green dotted with darker sagebrush. Bluebonnets mix with bright yellow balsamroot, and in the distance, the mountains are a smoky purple haze rising above it all. Waterfalls roar over black rocks along the Missouri River, and as always, the Technicolor sky spans as far as the eye can see into the horizon.

My fingers itch for my paintbrushes. Standing on the aged rail fence clutching my coffee cup, I decide to drive into town for supplies. I’ll stretch a canvas and spend the afternoon lost in a sea of acrylics, capturing as much of this gorgeousness as I can. The Indian blanket itches as I pull it tighter around my shoulders. I sip the hot, dark liquid and close my eyes, imagining how it will look—bold colors and strong lines, fierce as the landscape.

With a start my eyes blink open as the heavy metal gate groans. Six horses burst through it at different speeds, some trotting, others loping. Their pungent, earthy scent fills the air as they spread out in the enclosed pen. I watch them toss their heads in the cool morning air, stamping their hooves, and admiration warms my chest. They’re mystical and gorgeous, especially Freckles, the Appaloosa. Her white-grey coat is speckled with black dots, and her mane is jet-black over her pale face. She looks like a ghost, and she’s just as flighty and unpredictable as one.

She’s the spirited mare who got Stuart and me together the first time I was here. If she hadn’t tried to kick me, he wouldn’t have put himself between me and her hooves, but I don’t hold it against her. It was just the push he needed. I’m not sure my stubborn cowboy would have ever lowered his guard enough to let me in without her help.

Dakota and Cheyenne jog past. They’re large, chocolate-brown, and so gentle a child could ride them. Ranger is the brown and white Paint Stuart prefers. He loves to run. Scout is the Palomino.

Just then a smaller grey Appaloosa glides across the yard, nickering and tossing her black mane as if she’s offended. My eyes widen—she’s new and I love her on sight! I watch as she scoots in beside Freckles. It must be her foal.

“You know I don’t like waking up alone.” Strong arms surround me, and Stuart kisses the back of my neck.

“Mm,” I melt into his firm chest. “Is that an indirect order, soldier?” I tease.

“Yes.” He nips my earlobe, and a little thrill makes my shoulders jump.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, turning to face him. “I wanted to be outside and watch the sun rise.”

“You didn’t sleep well last night.”

The wind pushes through the yard in a strong gust, and I clutch my coffee cup and the blanket tighter. Tall and slim, the lines of his muscled arms show through the grey Henley he’s wearing.

“Hey!” I cry. “You’ve been in my suitcase! That’s mine!”

He only laughs. “You stole my favorite shirt. I stole it back.”

“It’s my favorite shirt now.” Pressing my face straight into his sternum, I take a deep breath. “It smells the most like you.”

His arms are around me and the morning chill is lost in the warmth of my love for this man. Another burst of wind hits me from behind, sending my long hair swirling into my face in chestnut ribbons.

Stuart catches one side holding it back. “We’re moving in together. You can stop stealing my clothes.”

A tingle of joy moves through my stomach… At least I think it’s joy. I recently found out it could be something else, but for the moment it’s still my little secret—and I’m about to die waiting to tell it! One more doctor’s visit, and I’ll be ready. I want everything to be certain before I share my amazing news.

As my mind travels, concern fills his eyes. “What was your dream about?”

Images of dark alleys, panic, and those terrible whispers return to my mind, and I shake my head. “I don’t know. It didn’t make any sense.”

“You haven’t had nightmares in a long time.”

“Not since the fire in the desert.” Our eyes meet, and I touch his cheek.

My nightmares of his injury while serving in Afghanistan, of the explosions and the carnage, of him being dragged away while his partner was left to die on the sand flood my mind. They were the reason I came here to find him when I barely even knew his name. It was the only time I’d ever dreamed about someone besides myself.

We’re quiet a moment as he studies my face. “If you figure it out, you know you can talk to me.”

“That’s the problem. I never figure it out until it’s too late.” My teeth clench, and I blink away from his gaze. He’s still serious, but I don’t want to think about my dreams. I don’t want them spoiling our waking hours.

I turn to face the yard again, and a shrill whinny draws my attention. The cute little gray horse is prancing across the grass with Freckles. I watch as she rears her dark head. Right in the center is a bright white circle like a moon.

“Who is she?”

Stuart steps beside me to the fence, looking over at her. “Seems Freckles had a lost weekend.”

Wrinkling my nose, I can’t help laughing. “Lost weekend?”

“She ran away, and Bill thinks she must’ve hooked up with a wild mustang. All his males are geldings.”

“So she’s a year old?” I watch as the small horse ventures closer to where we are, only to toss her head and run back across the yard.

“About.” He crosses the fence and steps into the pen, making a clicking sound as he approaches her.

“Will Bill keep her?”

“He hasn’t decided yet. Either way, she needs to be broken before he can sell her.”

She watches him approach, feet planted. Stuart’s faded jeans are slung low on his hips, and I lean my head to the side, resting my cheek against my hand as I watch my sexy cowboy work.

“You can do it,” I say as he gently touches her head. “She already trusts you.”

The small horse’s muscles tense as his hand moves to her neck, but she allows him to stroke the fur under her mane. As he gets closer to her body, though, her front hooves do a skippy-dance, and she darts away.

“Bill’s been working with her some,” he says, walking back to where I stand. He glances at the little filly trotting around the yard, finding her way back to her mother.

“I wish I could work with her.”

For a few moments, he doesn’t answer me. His lips twitch, and he studies me briefly before nodding. “I could teach you. While we’re here at least.”

“Stuart! Would you? I would love that so much!” I’m squealing as I bounce on my toes, trying not to spill my coffee.

“Let me talk to Bill, make sure he doesn’t have other plans for her. If he says it’s okay, I’ll get you started.”

“Oh my god! It’s going to be so much fun!”

“It’s serious business.” His expression grows stern. “You have to be calm. The way we handle her sets her up for future interactions with riders, and Bill’s already worried she’ll be flighty.”

“Like Freckles.” I stop bouncing immediately and force my cheeks to stop smiling. “I’ll be very calm. No emotion.”

He swings a leg over the fence and drops down beside me. “Emotions are okay, just remember you’re the boss.”

I level my gaze at the horse, doing my best to imitate his expression. “Right. I’m the boss.” My eyes slide to him. “Does this boss thing also work on you?”

That makes him grin, and he puts his arm across my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get some breakfast.”

Walking away, the bounce is back in my step. “I’ve never had a horse before. Can I name her?”

“She’s not really yours.”

“I know, but it’s like she’s mine… if I’m training her.”

“Not really.”

“Stop being a party pooper!” Another gust of wind sends my hair flying around us.

Stuart glances down at me, and the green in his hazel eyes twinkles through the brown. “What would you name her?”

“Jessie.”

“Is that significant somehow?”

“My mother’s name was Jacinda.” My heart warms as I think of another possible use for her name.

He nods, “Then Jessie it is.”

---

Stuart

Ron has arrived when I return to the barn after breakfast. He’s my uncle’s only ranch hand, and like Winona, he came with the place. As such, I’ve known him since I was a kid.

He greets me with a familiar pat on the shoulder, and I see his formerly jet-black hair is now heavily streaked with grey. Just then Bill walks through the paddock, making his way to where Jessie is corralled beside Freckles.

I watch him go and notice a hitch in his stride. Sylvia’s words are on my mind, He’s not as young as he used to be. At some point he’s either going to have to sell this place or give it to one of us.

As if reading my mind, he lets out a mellow growl. “Damnedest thing about getting old…” He passes a hand over his thick grey mustache, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“What?” I follow to where he’s watching Jessie stamp around on fresh hay.

“Starting over with a new colt feels like a shit-ton of work to do. Getting bit, getting thrown… Hell,” he sighs. “I don’t know if I’m up to it.”

Looking over his shoulder, I watch the little filly at the back of the stall. She’s feisty like her mother, itching to run and full of spirit. At the same time, she’s a beautiful horse. She’d bring a decent price if she were trained and sold.

I rest my forearms on the top rail beside him. “Mariska wants to learn to train a horse. She’s got her eye on this one.”

“That so?” He steps back, and somehow I get the feeling he knew what I was going to say before I started.

“I said I’d teach her the ropes. Unless you’ve got other plans for her.”

“Mariska?”

My eyes narrow. “The filly.”

He slaps my shoulder and laughs. “I think Mariska would make a fine horsewoman. It would save me a lot of trouble, too. Have at it.”

Turning my attention to the colt, I make a clicking noise with my mouth. She shakes her head but doesn’t try to get away. Bill steps up beside me and rests his arms on the stall door. His collar-length grey hair is thick and swept back from his face, and a tan Stetson is on his head.

“You’re planning to stay through the summer?” he asks.

Looking down, I think about the right answer. My mother guilt-tripped me into coming here on the premise that my uncle needed my help running the place. Mariska is out of school for the summer, and my business partners are relaxed enough to let me take an extended vacation. It helps that one is my younger brother Patrick and the other is my former commanding officer Derek Alexander.

“We’ll stay a few weeks,” I finally reply. “As long as you need me.”

He nods and pushes off the door. “I got a meeting in town with Evan Robertson this evening. He wants to discuss grazing fees for letting his cattle on our land. Feel like tagging along?”

“Sure.”

With a nod, he heads toward the door. One thing my uncle and I have in common, we don’t waste words. I study the horse a few minutes longer, a smile nudging at my lips when I remember how excited Mariska got about the idea of training her. She bounced up and down like a little kid with a new toy. Only she’s not a kid. She’s a beautiful, sexy woman, and I’ve been thinking about her body all day, since I woke up alone in bed this morning.

“Play nice with my lady,” I say under my breath before turning to go.

We’ll stay for now, but I’m not moving to Great Falls. I have no intention of derailing Mariska’s studies or dragging her out here to the middle of nowhere to be a rancher’s wife. It’s a hard life she’d have to tell me she wanted first.