Chapter 9

9

He'd been married for five days, and Genevieve hadn't left him yet.

From his mount, Ryder glanced sideways at her on her horse beside him, needing to reassure himself that she was still with him.

"Do you think your family will like me?" she asked as they passed under the smooth log of the gate emblazoned with black metal letters that read: High Country Ranch .

On either side of the entrance, split-rail fencing ran the length of the wide-open grassland where the horses and cattle grazed. Ahead, a dirt road wound back for a quarter of a mile through a woodland of pines and led to the main house, situated at the base of a slope. Pa Oakley had designed the layout of the ranch well, because the buffer of trees helped to protect the barns and livestock from the wind and snow and drifts that were prevalent over the long winter months.

He could feel Genevieve's eyes upon him, waiting for an answer to his question.

"They'll like you just fine." Boone began to stir after napping the whole ride to the ranch, and Ryder gave him a gentle pat in the sling on his chest. Genevieve had offered to carry Boone, but Ryder had gotten used to traveling with the baby in the sling and figured it would free up Genevieve for the ride. Besides, he hadn't worn the sling since Genevieve had arrived, and he could admit he missed the closeness it provided with Boone.

"I do hope they will approve of me." Her gaze was sweeping over the herd of horses in the south pasture, the dozens of varieties Pa Oakley had bred and that Maverick was now overseeing. Even if Maverick had experienced a rocky start to taking over the ranch, Ryder was proud of his brother for how he'd persevered. Maverick had also finally married his best friend's sister after years of denying his feelings for her.

Ryder didn't expect the kind of love Maverick shared with his wife, but he anticipated that his family would like Genevieve more than just fine , much better than they'd ever liked Sadie. But he couldn't say that and refused to talk bad about Sadie to his new wife, even though he didn't have much good to say about Boone's mother.

"Will you tell me about the different breeds your family has?" she asked, her gaze still riveted to the horses.

The herds did make a pretty picture, grazing on the open range with the mountains rising majestically behind them.

So did Genevieve. Her dark hair was pulled up and pinned beneath a straw hat, giving him a view of her slender neck, a delicate stretch of her throat, and her collarbones. The green calico bodice and skirt she'd donned that morning appeared to be another new garment—one he doubted she'd ever worn before.

He wasn't sure how she'd afforded to buy so many clothes. Maybe he should have warned her his ranch wasn't anything fancy and she'd be fine in her old garments. Or perhaps she was used to wearing fine clothing—if her stockings and shoes were any indication. The trouble was, what happened when she wanted to buy more and he couldn't purchase what she was accustomed to having?

He shook away the thought and instead focused on talking to her about the horses. He liked when she asked him questions about the ranch and livestock. It showed she was interested, and that's what he wanted. He wanted her to like ranch life and the West, even though it was a difficult way of living at times.

So far over the past five days since her arrival, she'd seemed to adjust well enough, and they'd fallen into an easy routine. During the days, he worked with his cattle and managed the herd and other livestock while she stayed close to the cabin and tended Boone. She'd cooked a few meals, but from the simplicity of the fare, he guessed she didn't have many recipes or was inexperienced. Either way, she'd tried, and he appreciated her efforts.

She'd admitted to not knowing about vegetable gardens and had asked him astute questions about how to weed, trim back, and harvest the ripe produce. She'd also asked him about the chickens and how to gather eggs, blaming her ignorance on having lived in the city.

In the evenings, when he stepped out to check on the livestock and close up the barn, she had the privacy of the cabin to change into a nightgown and complete her nightly ritual. By the time he returned, Boone was laid down and she already asleep in bed.

Ryder had continued to share the bed with her and had done well keeping his hands to himself each night. Every now and then, his arm ended up around her, as it had that first morning he'd awoken to find himself touching her. He'd tried to be more careful, but his body was attuned to her presence near him, regardless of how hard he was working to maintain self-control. And how hard he was working to sleep lightly so that he didn't have any nightmares.

He especially liked the early morning hour at daybreak, when they were both awake. She was never in a rush to get out of bed and lay beside him while they whispered about life. Most of the time, they talked about Boone or the tasks of the day ahead. But sometimes he shared more about his family, and she'd talked fondly about her papa. He'd finally been able to ask her about Open Door Asylum, which she'd mentioned in her letter, and she'd spoken of all she'd done there and how much it had meant to her to be a part of the orphanage.

He'd already gotten to know her better than he had any other woman. The truth was, the more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. And he was coming to realize just how lucky he'd been—or perhaps Providence had a hand in things—to have Genevieve respond to his letter and come west to be a part of his and Boone's lives.

As they entered the woodland and lost sight of the herd, his heart gave a small kick of something he hadn't felt in a long time. Hope. Could he have hope for his future? For a family of his own? He hadn't believed it possible, especially after losing Sadie.

But with Genevieve, what if he could allow himself to hope for everything he'd never thought he'd have?

Genevieve had moved ahead of him, enough that he could see her profile. With the way she was sitting in the saddle, her usually baggy clothing hugged her form, giving a rare view of her womanly curves.

"Have you considered raising horses?" She tossed the question over her shoulder, catching him staring at her.

She simply held his gaze, the blue-gray as stunning as always. It was holding him captive more and more often, so that he didn't want to look away.

One of her delicate brows arched, reminding him that she was waiting for his answer. He shrugged. "I don't love horses the way Maverick does."

She shifted her focus back to the wagon path ahead of them. "What do you love, Ryder?"

The question took him so much by surprise that he almost yanked on the reins and brought his mount to a halt. What did he love? No one had ever asked him that question before.

His mind raced to find an answer. Had he really ever loved anything? Sure, he liked ranching, liked the beauty of the West, liked the satisfaction that came after a day of hard work. But did he love it?

He couldn't claim the same passion for ranching the other ranchers in Summit County did. But it was all he really knew and would give him a good life if he was able to build his herd.

Even so, the only thing that really mattered to him was Boone. And the rest of his brothers and sisters. "Reckon I love my family more than anything else."

"That is easy to see." She smiled over her shoulder at him, and the beautiful curve of her lips sent his stomach tumbling end over end. "But what else? What do you enjoy most?"

Right now he was enjoying the ride with her and getting his fair share of looking at her. But he couldn't say that. He had to think of something that didn't make him sound like a bumbling idiot.

"You know I like history . . ."

One night during supper, she'd asked him about his book collection. They'd ended up talking about their favorite novels, and he'd learned that she was well-educated and well-read for an orphan. He'd shared with her about his love of studying history, and she'd told him that her papa had a collection of history books.

"And . . ." she prompted.

He pushed past his reticence and blurted out, "Over the past couple of years, I've started investigating and writing down the history of Colorado."

She abruptly reined in her horse and shifted around so that she was facing him directly.

With her curious eyes studying his face, he ducked his head beneath the brim of his Stetson. Why had he brought up his project? He rarely discussed it with anyone, except for the old-timers like Virgil in Frisco, who'd been in Colorado since the beginning. "I mostly do the chronicling during the winter months when I'm not so busy. I've collected firsthand tales from some people who were here even before the gold rush."

"That's incredible." Her eyes began to shine with admiration.

"Really?" So she didn't find the hobby odd?

"I love it that you're doing something so worthwhile."

He'd never been entirely sure what he liked about studying history. Maybe it made him feel connected with the past, something that had been torn from him brutally the day his real parents had been slaughtered. Maybe in finding the history of others, he could preserve for others what he couldn't preserve for himself.

Whatever the case, Pa Oakley had been the one to encourage him to write down Colorado's history so that it wouldn't be forgotten. Now he had almost an entire book of stories.

At a call from down the wagon path near the clearing, he dragged his attention away from Genevieve to find that Clementine was waving at them. Her blond-red hair hung in a long braid over her shoulder, and she was barefoot, making her look younger than her nineteen years.

"You can't keep her all to yourself, Ryder," his sister yelled with a wide grin.

He could admit he was tempted to keep Genevieve to himself. He'd only agreed to bring her to supper because Maverick had pestered him into it the other day when he'd ridden over to the ranch without her. Of course, Maverick had already heard about the arrival of the bride and the hasty evening wedding. Seemed as though the news had spread quicker than wildfire all across the county.

Whatever the case, Ryder had to introduce Genevieve to everyone sooner or later. And tonight was as good a night as any.

They made their way to the ranch yard, an open patch of grass that filled the area between the house and the barns. The log cabin was the original home Pa Oakley had built fourteen years ago when they'd arrived in Summit County and claimed their homestead. Over the years, they'd added several rooms to the structure, but the rustic look of the home remained the same. It was a place that would always be special to him because it had been the first real home he'd had since he was five.

Clementine greeted Genevieve warmly with a hug. And a moment later, Maverick and Hazel stumbled out of the mare barn flushed, disheveled, and brushing straw from their clothing. As always, the sight of the two of them so in love made Ryder's chest clench with an emotion he couldn't name but that bordered on jealousy. They welcomed Genevieve as enthusiastically as Clementine.

"Supper's ready," Clementine said as she led the way toward the raised front porch of the cabin, cuddling Boone as she did so.

The cabin door ahead opened, and a man stepped out hesitantly. It was Tanner. Although slightly taller than Ryder, they shared similar broad facial features and broad shoulders. While they had the same brown hair and eyes, Tanner always needed a haircut, and his eyes were always full of humor.

Even now, Tanner offered one of his charming grins.

Ryder halted abruptly and glared at him. "What's he doing here?"

Beside him, Genevieve had also come to a halt, and she was taking in Tanner, likely seeing the striking family resemblance.

Clementine turned her green eyes full of censure upon Ryder. "Now, come on, Ryder. Tanner heard you got married and came to meet your new wife."

Ryder bit back a caustic comment. For as much conflict as he and Tanner had experienced over recent months, Tanner was still his flesh and blood, and Ryder would do anything for him. He'd spent years of his life sacrificing for his little brother, protecting him, keeping him happy, and making sure they stayed together.

But apparently that wasn't enough for Tanner. Ryder wasn't enough. Because ever since Pa Oakley had died in January, Tanner had been on a mission to find more information about their past—who their parents were, and where they'd come from. He'd even hired an investigator.

It was almost as if Pa Oakley's death had given Tanner the freedom he'd been waiting for to explore their roots. Perhaps Tanner hadn't wanted to offend their adoptive pa with that kind of search. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to seem ungrateful for all that Pa Oakley had done for them.

Whatever the case, Ryder had opposed Tanner stirring up the past, had told him to let it go. But of course, Tanner was as stubborn as an old mule. And he'd persisted with his quest in spite of Ryder's objections.

They'd had some terrible arguments about it. The last one had been especially difficult because Tanner had grown accusatory, complaining that Ryder knew more than he was willing to share. They'd ended up yelling at each other in a wrestling match because Tanner hadn't been able to accept that Ryder didn't have any names or places or details to give him.

"How much information do you think a five-year-old can remember?" Ryder had shouted at his brother. "It was twenty years ago. I don't have any memories, so stop hounding me."

"Maybe you just have to make yourself remember," Tanner had shouted back, his features taut with a desperation Ryder hadn't liked. Tanner had been three at the time they'd lost their family and had no memories of that fateful day either.

"Some things are best forgotten." Ryder's voice had been hard and his statement final the last time he'd spoken with Tanner. And now, today, here his brother was.

If only Tanner would let the past stay where it belonged.

"It's good to see you too, Ryder." Tanner was still smiling, as carefree and happy as always.

Ryder's chest swelled. That's all he'd ever wanted for his brother—for him to be carefree and happy. So why did he have the feeling he'd failed?