Chapter Forty-Five - Westin

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

WESTIN

The next morning, I set out a pair of jeans, boots, and a shirt for her before I head to the barn. When chores are done, I take Rocky and Gracey out, brush them down, and saddle them up.

The sky overhead is dotted with puffy clouds. The air smells like spring.

She comes up the path from the gatehouse. Her blonde hair falls down her back in a braid. Her jeans hug her hips and thighs, highlighting her beautiful curves. The only thing she doesn't have is a hat.

"Come here, darling," I call.

She enters the barn, hands in her back pockets, like she's nervous. "What's this?"

"Let's ride," I say. "We could both use some time out of the house."

She looks confused, but then her face breaks into a smile. God, we've both been so caught up in our problems, I forgot how pretty she is when she's happy. I leave the horses by the hitching post and put my arm around her waist.

I take my hat off, she stands on her toes, and I kiss her. When I withdraw, I settle my hat on her head. It's a little big.

"There you go," I say. "So your hair doesn't bleach. "

"What about you?" she asks.

I shrug. "I'll be alright today. It's not hot."

She follows me back into the barn, and I hold Gracey so she can mount up. Then, I swing onto Rocky, and we head out around to the back trail that goes up the hill. It runs along the old divide between Garrison Farms and Sovereign Mountain Ranch. Now, it all belongs to us.

She rides easily, hand rested on her thigh. The light breeze teases her hair. Now, seeing her in the sun, I realize she's pale. She needs to get out more. Being locked up by Thomas made her afraid to go back out into the world.

"I'm surprised you didn't spank me yesterday," she says, a little sass in her voice. "For doubting you."

"Sometimes, people don't need correction, Diane," I say. "Sometimes, they just need somebody to love them."

Her throat bobs, her lips parting.

"What do you think I need, sir?" she asks.

I take a beat. Rocky and Gracey bring us up the hill, through the growing spring grass to the crest that overlooks where Clint Garrison used to live. Now, it's just a burnt patch and a barn. Sovereign will tear it down soon and turn everything into pasture.

"I think you've always needed someone to love you, Diane," I say.

Her eyes are wet, fixed on the horizon. "Thank you," she says, her voice raspy.

I stack my hands on the saddle horn. "I think sometimes, I get wrapped up in my own head."

She nods. "I think I get wrapped up in…all this." She makes a gesture at her heart and drops her hand.

I nudge Rocky closer until I can reach out and touch her thigh. She looks over and offers a watery smile.

"Sovereign Mountain is beautiful," she says. "It makes me feel better."

"I'm glad."

"And you make me feel safe. "

I touch her face, pushing her hat back. "All I want is for you to be happy and safe, darling."

There's a faint screech from the trees, like a bird of prey. Crows rise, swirling. I know there's a hawk somewhere in there. Diane lifts her eyes to the mountains. Her shoulders sink, and her face clears as she looks up at them. I know she must have spent a lot of time as a child, watching those mountains, wanting more.

She's hungry. She wants to bite deep into life, to taste it thoroughly.

Rocky paces sideways. Gracey throws her head.

"Do you want to run the horses?" I ask.

Her eyes light up, and she nods.

"Good. Let's take them up, then down. The river cuts across, but we can ford it where it's shallow. We'll keep going until you want to stop."

I click my tongue, and Rocky slips from a walk to a trot, then a canter. His hooves pound the earth, drowning out Gracey approaching until she's passing me by. I wonder if Gracey has a little thoroughbred in her; she's got a long gait and gives Rocky a run for his money.

She keeps a half-length ahead. The wind is warm, the sun is pleasant. My head goes blissfully empty, and all I see is my girl, wild and free, the way she was born to be.

Golden waves tug free of her braid and whip around her face. She rides easily, one hand up with the reins, the other out for balance.

We eat up land, our horses flying until we reach the river. The ground levels out and is littered with flat, white rocks. The river bubbles over little dips and valleys. It's shallow, barely reaching Rocky's knee in the deepest parts. On the other side is a grove of Ponderosa Pines. We urge our horses up the bank and into the woods, sticking to the trail.

The trees provide heavy shade. The air is cool and green in the forest.

"Where do you want to live?" she asks. "Here at Sovereign Mountain forever? "

I shrug. "I don't mind where I live, just as long as I've got land under my feet and sky over my head."

She smiles. "I love that about you."

"You're the same," I say.

She's quiet, her face sober. We pass through the pines, and the world opens up. We take the shortcut through the thinnest portion of old Garrison land, and now we're at the ridge that overlooks Carter Farms.

The sight brings sudden stillness over her face.

Her throat bobs.

"That's my home," she says, her voice husky. "I'd like to think I'd be fine anywhere, but that's my home. I want to live and die there."

I hate that I can't hold her. She's so small, wind whipping her hair over her face.

"You'll get it back. Swear it."

"I believe you," she says. Her voice is so soft, I barely hear. "I spent so much time looking up at these mountains, riding through them. I never thought I'd be on the other side, locked out. I never imagined it would be because David traded me off."

Anger flickers through me. I temper it down.

"I should move on," she says. "I just mourn the person he could have been. I'm not making excuses for what he did."

"Did your grandmother give the farm to David when she died?"

She nods. "I was pissed about that when David told me, but it makes sense. He ran it as soon as he was old enough to hold a pitchfork and drive a tractor. I wouldn't have known what to do with it."

I nod. "It's a lot of work."

Her eyes narrow. "I could have done it if anyone took the time to teach me. But after Nana died, David made me stay in the kitchen. He said it was cheaper if I did all the housework."

I keep my mouth shut. She opens up so rarely; I don't want to scare her off.

Birds sing in the brush at the edge of the pines. Rocky shakes his head, bridle rattling. She looks up, jerked from her reverie .

"Do you want to ride around to the cemetery?" I ask.

Her eyes light up. "Yes, please."

I jerk my head. "Let's go then."

We stick to the edge of the pasture, keeping far enough away we're not visible from the house. Then, we dip below the hill and ride down the deepest point of the valley. At the bottom sits the willow tree, the overgrown cemetery underneath.

She slides to the ground, tucking Gracey's reins back. I dismount and go after her, but she's already through the gate when I catch up.

"No one took care of it but me," she says, an edge of frustration to her voice.

Her grandmother's grave is overgrown. She drops to her knees and starts tearing up the grass. I kneel down and join her. Overhead, the sun is getting hotter. We work silently, pulling back the long grass. I take a jackknife from my pocket and let her use it to cut it away.

When we're done, her parents and her grandmother's graves are exposed.

She rises, dusting off her dirty hands. I slip my arm around her waist and pull her against my side.

"They're proud of you, darling," I say. "You're a strong woman."

She sniffs. "You better not make me cry, Westin."

I lean in and kiss the top of her head. We stand together for a long time, on the patch of earth she cleared. When this farm is ours, I'll come out here every morning and cut it back for her if that's what she wants.

"Nana used to hum this song to me before bed. She'd brush my hair and hum it. I never knew the words." Hoarsely, she hums a few bars. "It's a hymn, I think."

I nod. "I know that one."

She glances at me, smiling. "You going to tell me you're a church-going man now?"

"I went when I was a kid," I say. "My mother thought she was going to raise a gentleman."

Her brow arches. "And she didn't? "

"Not with the man she picked to be my father," I say.

The mood goes from nostalgic to having an edge of tension. The conversation we had the other night hangs over us.

"I get the feeling he did a number on you," she says quietly.

I don't answer. The pain I carry from the start of my life isn't violent, not in the way not the way she experienced it with Thomas. It's complex, and falling for her has made me realize I'm the result of generations of toxicity in the veins of the man who raised me.

Here I am, at the end of it, trying to sort myself out so I don't hurt the woman I love.

Trying to be a whole man, not just a gunslinger.

The sun climbs higher. Cicadas start to buzz. She keeps rubbing her fingers, trying to get the grass stain off them. They go faster until I catch them in mine.

"It's alright, darling," I say. "Let's get you home."

She nods, and I lead her from the cemetery. She goes to Gracey and waits while I latch the gate and go to help her on. I mount Rocky and look up to find her holding out my hat.

"You wear it, gunslinger," she says, smiling.

When she calls me that, it doesn't hurt. I fit the hat on my head. The horses prance, ready for a chance to tear through the fields.

"Let's go, darling," I say.

"Race you back."

The wind tosses her hair and her dark eyes glitter. She doesn't give me a chance to respond; she just digs her heels in, and Gracey takes to the field. Rocky goes without urging, eating up the distance.

Neither of us care if we can be seen from the house anymore. We race through the field that will belong to her someday, sooner rather than later. The ground is hard, the rainy season is over, and nothing trips up the horses. We fly, not urging them, just letting them run.

I let her get the best of me. She already has anyway.