Wrangling the Cowboy's Heart Page 8

  She let the sentence trail off, and Finn wondered if she included him as part of the positive things. But he said nothing, leading Roany through the gate, waiting while Jodie came through herself and latched the gate behind them. She leaned against the fence while he unbuckled the halter.

  “Good job, girl,” he murmured to Roany, then patted her on the shoulder.

  The mare tossed her head once, as if letting him know he may have gotten the best of her this time, but they would meet again. Then she ran off.

  Finn coiled up the rope, walking back to Jodie, sensing she had more to say.

  “So what happened when you came to that realization?”

  “My dad arrived to bust up the party. I was the first person he saw when he stepped inside. He didn’t give me a chance to explain that I was leaving, that I hadn’t been drinking. He got angry, told me I didn’t deserve to even think about you.” She looked down at her hands, weaving her fingers together. Finn saw the scar on the back of her right hand and remembered her walking around town the next day with a bandage on it.

  “As usual, I had a fight with my dad. He was furious, grounded me, and I missed my date with you,” she said, her voice subdued. “I skipped out on my audition and went to another party in the middle of the day. I do believe I saw you that day.”

  “Yeah, you were with Jaden.”

  “We weren’t dating, in case you were wondering. Just hanging out. Being stupid.”

  Truth be told, Finn was surprised at how relieved that confession made him feel.

  “I spent that whole summer in a haze of stupidity and bad decisions,” she said. “I knew you were disappointed with me, but I figured I had blown my chance with you already, so what did it matter? The summer after that, when I was supposed to come here, I got off the bus early. Never made it to Montana and never went back to Knoxville.”

  As she related the events of that time, he heard the sorrow for the loss of her dreams. He still sensed she’d left something out, but hearing her version of what had happened made a big difference for him. She hadn’t ditched him after all. She’d been grounded.

  Finn couldn’t help himself; he touched her shoulder. Then she covered his hand with hers. It was cold, and he wrapped his fingers around it.

  “So what did you do after that? You didn’t graduate high school, did you?”

  She shook her head, tugging on her hand. But he didn’t let it go, gently stroking his thumb over her fingers, maintaining the connection between them.

  Something told him he was making a mistake. She wasn’t the kind of girl he was looking for. Yet in her haunted expression he saw the girl he had once cared for.

  “I managed. I supported myself. I never had to ask anyone for help. Least of all my father,” she said in a defiant tone. Finn saw the anger in her eyes. “And now, thanks to Keith willing me a third of this place, I have a chance to do something with my life.”

  “You mean something else,” Finn said carefully. “Knowing you, you’ve already done something worthwhile.”

  She held his gaze a moment, then pulled her hand free. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but it’s misplaced.” Then she gave him a tight smile. “So will I see you tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Like I said, I’ll bring one of my horses for you to ride.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Finn met her eyes, and to his surprise, she didn’t look away.

  He felt his breath quicken and his pulse follow suit.

  She looked so lost.

  She gave him a half smile and he caught a hint of sorrow in her eyes. A touch of pain.

  Over what had happened between them all those years ago?

  He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, then cupped her chin in his palm.

  Her eyes widened as she covered his hand with hers, then she swallowed hard and pulled away.

  “I should go,” she whispered as she turned.

  Finn watched her leave, his own emotions in flux.

  That was a mistake.

  And yet he wondered if it truly was.

  Chapter Seven

  “You sure I’ll be okay on that beast?” Jodie eyed with distrust the large brown quarter horse that Finn had finished saddling by the corrals. As promised, he had shown up with his horse this morning. Before he came, Jodie had picked up the phone any number of times to call off their ride.

  After their moment yesterday in the corral, she’d found herself touching her cheek where Finn’s rough hand had held it.

  It isn’t a good idea. Going riding wasn’t part of the deal. You could call it off.

  But she didn’t. Instead, she went into her father’s office and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening cleaning up. She felt like an intruder and had to work up her courage to step inside, but the job needed to be done and she needed to keep busy.

  But spending time in the office didn’t help her fluctuating emotions, either.

  Finn had been a good friend of her dad’s. He admired him.

  She should stay away.

  But she had her own memories of Finn, and it was those memories that had kept her from canceling, creating a flutter of anticipation at the thought of going riding with him.

  “His name is Henry, and yes, you’ll be fine,” Finn grunted as he pulled the cinch tight. With a few swift movements he wrapped the end around itself, tugging down once more to finish. Then he held his hand out to her. “Let me help you on so we can adjust the stirrups.”

  Her first reaction was to refuse, but she realized how foolish that was. He was just being helpful. No reason to get all jittery about it.

  In spite of her thoughts, as she dropped her hand in his she was far too aware of the roughness of the calluses on his palm, the warmth of his fingers as they clutched hers.

  She settled into the saddle with a creak of sun-warmed leather and slipped her feet in the stirrups, lifting herself to gauge the clearance.

  “How does that feel? Shorter? Longer?”

  “It’s good,” she said, settling back against the cantle.

  “Saddle sitting tight enough?” he asked, grabbing the saddle horn and pulling on it.

  “Fine. Really.”

  “Just want to make sure you don’t fall again,” he said, smiling up at her, and for a moment, his concern created a delightful little tingle. It had been a long time since anyone besides her sisters had been this considerate.

  “I think I’ll be okay. I’m with you,” she said, adding a saucy grin. “Super trainer.”

  “Just trainer,” he said, untying the halter rope from the hitching rail and handing it up for her to tie around her saddle horn.

  “What made you get into that line of work?” she asked. “Your father didn’t do it, did he?”

  “No. It was your dad, actually. And because it would take time to establish the business, he was also the one who encouraged me to become a deputy as a fallback.”

  Too many similar connections with her father, she reminded herself. Yet as he walked around Roany, talking to her, settling her down, Jodie saw the differences, as well.

  Finn’s patience. His quiet strength. He didn’t need to use force to get his way. Just a quiet persistence.

  Holding the reins, Finn rested his upper body on the saddle, as if to get Roany used to the weight, then put his foot in the stirrup, just standing there. Only when he sensed the mare wouldn’t do anything unpredictable did he swing his other foot over the saddle. Roany sidestepped, but Finn drew her head to one side, making her go in a circle, like Jodie’s father had taught her to do when a horse misbehaved.

  Jodie’s horse, Henry, stood stock-still, eyes closed, tail swishing at a few flies buzzing around them.

  “Do you want to take the lead or shall I?
” Finn asked, as he got Roany settled down.

  “You go ahead,” Jodie said, poking her toe in Henry’s side.

  Finn nudged the mare with his boots, turned her toward the trail and started her walking.

  Henry followed, his head up high enough that Jodie knew he was paying attention, not so much that she worried he would try anything. She watched Finn ahead of her, moving in time with the horse’s rhythm.

  Despite the straw hat she wore and the time of day, the sun held enough strength to lay a blanket of warmth over her head and shoulders. The muffled thud of hooves hitting grassland and the occasional snort from Roany were the only sounds breaking the late afternoon quiet.

  With each step closer to the trail and the pastures up in the mountains Jodie had spent so much time in, she felt the tension she had always felt on the ranch slowly loosen.

  There was no one to disappoint, no one to be angry with her.

  And as they rode into the cooling shade of the trees, she felt for the first time in years that peace was a possibility.

  * * *

  “It sure is beautiful up here,” Finn said, pulling his horse to a stop on the rim of the valley overlooking the Saddlebank River below. From up here they could see the east part of town, the rest hidden by trees edging the pastures. “I think I can see my house.”

  Jodie chuckled. “Where is it?”

  Finn moved closer, pointing with one gloved hand to an open area across the river. “See those buildings, the big white one in the middle of that large green space and the smaller one beside it? That’s my place. Or will be when I save enough money to buy it.”

  “You live there now?”

  “I’m renting it from Doc Wilkinson.”

  “Why don’t you just buy it?”

  “Vic always asks me the same question,” Finn said, lowering his hand, fiddling with Roany’s reins. “I have a timeline. In a couple of years I’ll have enough for a comfortable down payment. I don’t want to borrow too much.” His plan always made perfect sense to him when he did his monthly accounting, but saying it out loud to someone like Jodie, it sounded boring and dull.

  “But it might increase in value while you wait.”

  Finn laughed. “Again, you sound just like Vic.”

  “Sometimes you just have to jump in, I think. Go for broke.”

  “I’ve been broke,” he said. “Don’t want to be there again. Poverty can be scary.”

  “I thought your father had a steady job?” she asked.

  “He did. But after he died, my mom managed to spend it all.” The bitterness crept into his voice. “Sorry. You didn’t need to know that.”

  “I always thought you had a good relationship with your mother.”

  “I think she tried. She was just...gone. Every time I thought I could count on her, she seemed to disappear. It got worse after my dad died.”

  “I remember my dad talking about you that summer, after your father died. He felt so bad for you.”

  “It was thanks to Keith that I got through all that. I was only fifteen and my mom was always gone. Always chasing after an elusive dream of doing more with her piano playing. She never seemed to give up on her idea of becoming a professional pianist, but it never came about. She had some opportunities and then...nothing. She would come home, stay awhile, then leave again. Your dad helped me out a lot during that time. He became a mentor to me.”

  Finn turned to Jodie, his voice growing sincere. “I want you to know how much I respected and appreciated what your father did for me. I was just a kid. Your dad would make sure I had enough to eat. He’d stop by after school to see if I was okay. I could have been put into a foster home, but I didn’t want to go. I kept hoping my mom would come back. And she did, from time to time. But mostly, during those years, it was your dad who pulled me through. He was the one who brought me to the Moores’ place once in a while, as well.”

  Finn gave Jodie a careful smile. “I thought I would let you know that your father was a good man.”

  She just nodded tightly. She seemed upset and he didn’t know why. Did she miss her father more than she cared to admit?

  “So what happened with the concert with Mandie?” she asked. “Why do you think your mother decided not to play?”

  “Who knows? I’ve given up on trying to figure my mom out. I was thankful she arranged for Mandie to come sing at the festival. That was quite a coup. Apparently tickets are almost sold out, according to Amy.” Finn turned to Jodie. “And that’s why I’m glad you’re playing.”

  “Even though you originally wanted my aunt,” she said in a droll tone.

  “I’m glad Laura suggested you,” he insisted. “You’ve proved to be worth the trust she put in you.” He glanced over at Jodie just as she looked at him.

  She wore her hair loose today, and it flowed over her narrow shoulders like melted chocolate. She gave him a wry smile and for a moment he saw Keith McCauley looking back at him.

  “You look just like your father,” he said.

  You’re up on a mountain with a girl you’re growing attracted to and that’s what you come up with? He gave himself a mental smack on his forehead.

  “Thanks. I think,” she said, pushing her hair away from her face.

  Unbidden came the memory of the moment in the corral the other day. That breathless feeling when he’d touched her. Part of Finn wanted to give in to the attraction he knew was growing between them, but that would be foolish. She was leaving soon, and in spite of that she wasn’t the right woman for him.

  Or so you keep saying.

  He tried to banish the voice. Tried to be the practical guy he had always strived to be. He didn’t want to end up on the wrong side of a broken heart again. He had a plan and he wasn’t letting anyone or anything sabotage that.

  “Your place looks nice from here,” Jodie said.

  “It’s not as big as the Rocking M, your dad’s spread, but it’s respectable enough,” Finn murmured, turning his attention back to the valley and his future.

  “I always liked it up here.” Jodie threaded Henry’s reins through her fingers. “Whenever I found myself homesick, it was for this place rather than Knoxville.”

  “That’s right. You do a lot of traveling.”

  “I do. I hope to do more once my sisters and I sell the ranch.”

  Her offhand comment brought reality crashing back to Finn. She wasn’t sticking around. He needed to remind himself of that.

  “Seems as though you’ve been everywhere.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I heard about some of your trips from your dad.”

  Jodie released a harsh laugh, which puzzled him, and as if in reaction, Roany pulled her head back. Finn kept pressure on the reins until she stopped, then he eased off, praising her. She had been surprisingly well behaved, for which he was thankful. Getting her out on a ride was what she needed.

  “So tell me about some of the places you’ve been,” he said. “Sounds as if you’ve been all over world.”

  “You don’t have a desire to travel?” Jodie asked.

  “There are some places I’d like to see, but mostly I’m content here in Montana. It’s home.” His mom had traveled, but it hadn’t made her any happier. “So what drives you to travel so much?”

  “Get away. See something of the world. See other places and other cultures, but these days I feel like...” Her voice trailed off.

  “Feel like what?” It was her melancholy tone that made him push her. As if her focus had shifted and he wanted to know to where.

  She drew in a slow breath, absently stroking her horse’s head, her movements slow and rhythmic.

  “Like I’m not sure why I’m doing it anymore.” She avoided Finn’s eyes, her attention on Henry and the tangle of his mane. She fingered
a few knots loose. “I feel as if I’m moving for the sake of movement. Trying something new. Trying to convince myself with all my flying around that I’m getting someplace. But lately, every time I arrive, I feel a sense of dissatisfaction. As if I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

  Finn let her words settle in his soul, hearing the sorrow in her voice, the longing for something.

  “‘Our hearts are restless until they can find rest in You,’” he quoted.

  She shot him a puzzled glance. “Who said that?”

  “Saint Augustine. I read it one morning during my devotions. I often think of my mother when I hear it.”

  “She doesn’t go to church, either?” Jodie asked, as if she included herself in that comment.

  “Once in a while. When she feels she needs absolution.”

  “Does she find it in church?”

  Finn wondered where that came from. “Do you?”

  Jodie’s expression grew hard and he wondered if he had overstepped. “I only went to church because it wouldn’t do for the children of the sheriff of Saddlebank County not to attend.”

  “So it didn’t mean anything to you?” The cynicism she was exhibiting bothered him. He remembered a young girl who would come to the youth group socials, laughing and singing exuberantly. Surely that hadn’t been just for show?

  “I wouldn’t say that.” She untangled another knot in Henry’s mane, her movements slow and deliberate. “I always enjoyed attending the youth functions. I think... I feel like...God was more approachable there.”

  “So is God approachable to you now?”

  She gathered up the reins, a signal to end the conversation. She paused and turned to Finn. “God and I haven’t spent a lot of time together lately. I haven’t exactly been...” She stopped there, shaking her head as if unwilling to say more.