Denim & Diamonds (15 page)

The tabby dug at the bolster, then his claws caught the edge and lifted it. Beth scolded the cat, then tried to straighten the cushion, but the edge caught on a hinge. She pulled the cushion up and tugged on the little brass knob hidden underneath. A small storage space was exposed, and she dropped to her knees to look through her find.

The narrow space was filled with a leather bound scrapbook, a bundle of unopened envelopes bound together with a strip of brown cloth, and an old Ariat boot box. She scooped up the bundle of envelopes and sat back hard on her heels when she read her own name and her old home address lettered on the top envelope. It was yellowed with age, her mother’s elegant script indicated “return to sender” next to Beth’s crossed out name.

She untied the cloth strip and flipped through the envelopes, each and every one addressed and marked through in the same manner.

Beth looked up at the tom cat, who watched her with big eyes glowing like the harvest moon. The cat blinked twice then opened his mouth in a yawn.

“I don’t know how you knew this was here, Tripod, but I’m glad you showed me,” she whispered to the cat.

One by one, she opened the fragile envelopes with shaking hands. She couldn’t believe her eyes, and hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she read her father’s words.

She found Christmas cards, birthday cards, Valentines, and each of them contained a letter from her father to his “precious
Elizabeth” and many contained little trinkets such as bookmarks or pins. She pulled a delicate filigree heart pin from a Valentine’s Day card and stood to face herself in the large mirror above the chest of drawers. She pinned the gold heart to her t-shirt.

Beth stared at the young woman with her father’s green eyes, and wondered how she could have let her father slip away without getting to know him. How could her mother have been so cruel as to let her grow up believing that her father wanted nothing to do with her? Why didn't he say something after her mother died?

“Daddy, I promise, I will make you proud of me,” she whispered to her reflection. “Thanks for giving me this chance to get to know you.”

The cat jumped into the storage space and patted the cover of the leather bound scrapbook with a snow white paw. Beth bent down and retrieved the thick scrapbook. She sank down in the chair with the book, tucking her feet under her and settling in to enjoy the memories – the story her father would tell her through his scrapbook. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let herself feel her father – the faint scent of old leather and cigars tickled her nose, and she could almost feel the warmth of her father in the chair. She took a deep breath and flipped the fragile pages of the book carefully, surprised to find so many pages devoted to her.

Her father had collected every newspaper clipping that contained her name, even down to the honor roll listings from junior high and the academic contests that she attended while in high school.

“Boss? Is everything okay?” Beth looked up to see her ranch foreman leaning against the door frame. He looked every inch the cowboy, from his bent cowboy hat to his scuffed boots. His brow furrowed with concern. His arms were crossed casually, but his crystal blue eyes darted about the room, taking in the upturned cushion, the litter of opened cards and the album in her lap.

“Yes. Everything’s fine,” she answered as she swiped a tear from her eye and sat up straight. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath then exhaled. “What can I do for you?”

Beau stepped into the room, then dropped his hands to his sides. There was something electric about his presence. They were the only two in the house. She felt lonely and vulnerable. She couldn't let him see her like this.

She closed the album with a thud and started to rise, but just didn’t have the energy. She felt wrung out and was tired of being in boss-mode all the time. She dropped back into the chair, lowering her defenses.

She caressed the album, tracing the design on the front with her index finger. “Did you know my father kept a scrapbook about me?”

“Yes, I did,” Beau said, taking another step into the room. He ducked his head and caught her gaze. “You found it.”

“Sit down for a second and let me show you something,” she patted the chair cushion next to her and sniffled.

Beau sat on the arm of the chair. Beth opened up to him, let him see the real her. "My parents separated when I was very young. All my life, I thought my father wanted nothing to do with me. My mother told me he had abandoned us, that he was busy with his mistresses and didn't have time for me anymore."

Beau reached out and caressed her shoulder, "That must've been awful."

She smiled up at him, "I shouldn't be complaining to you about this. You lost your parents so tragically."

He shrugged, "Yeah, but I was young. You just lost yours."

She released a shuddering breath. "But I screwed up. My father just died. He was right here and I had nothing to do with him." Her life story poured out of her uncontrollably, as if she had turned on a faucet full blast and couldn’t turn it off.

He listened as she told him how she had discovered the unopened cards and the scrapbook in the storage compartment of the window seat. As the words spilled forth, so did the tears.

“So, my life has been a lie, and now there’s no way I can ever make it up to him. He’s gone, and I never even got a chance to get to know him,” Beth finished, sniffling and sucking in air. He slid off the arm of the big chair and put his arm around her shoulders and held her while she leaned into him and cried.

The two sat like that until her sobs subsided into hiccups. She pulled herself up straight, dabbed her eyes with a tissue and ran a hand over her hair.

“You must think I’m a blubbering idiot,” she said, head down.

“No.” He pushed himself to his feet and plucked a tissue from the box on the nightstand. He handed it to her and said, “You remind me a lot of your father and he was definitely not an idiot.”

“Thanks.” He knew exactly what to say at exactly the right time. She wiped her tears away and blew her nose.

“Anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here.” He sat down on the bed, and patted the mattress beside him, “Now, you sure you’re okay?”

She looked at him and wanted nothing more than to be held. She walked to the bed and sat beside him. He held his arms open, inviting her to lean against him. She let herself melt into his embrace. She closed her eyes, listened to the thud of his heart in his chest and breathed in the outdoorsy smell of him. She sighed and let herself relax in his arms. He kissed the top of her head, and the last thing she remembered was him telling stories about her father.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T
he next morning Beth woke up in her father’s bed, still fully dressed, with a quilt thrown over her. She was alone, but the smell of Beau lingered on her skin. He had taken care of her when she needed to be taken care of. She smiled and threw back the covers, ready to tackle the day.

Half an hour later, she tugged on her new cowboy boots, pulled her boot cut Wrangler jeans over the top of them and stood to admire her new look in the full-length mirror. At least she looked like someone who could ride horses. Now all she needed was a cowboy hat and she’d be set. She made a screwed up face at her reflection as she recalled her first riding experience at the ranch. Today would be better. She felt a little embarrassed about letting down her guard the night before, but was looking forward to spending time with Beau.

Meow
! The tabby wound himself around Beth’s feet, then stopped to look her squarely in the eye.

“Tripod, cross your fingers and toes that I don’t take another saddle horn in the gut!” Beth whispered to the cat. Beth strode down the long hallway, enjoying the way her boots sounded as she walked.
Charlotte was in the kitchen, kneading a loaf of sourdough bread.

“You look like you’re ready to try riding again! I’m so glad. I know you had a rough start, but you’ll enjoy it once you get the hang of it.”
Charlotte wiped her hands on her apron, leaving flour handprints on the red gingham fabric. “Beau is a good teacher. He’s very patient.”

“I hope so,” Beth answered with a wry grin, “He may need all the patience he can get with a beginner like me.”

Charlotte shooed her towards the door, “Run along now and ride before the sun gets up too high. And don’t take it personally if Beau refers to you as a rank greenhorn. That’s just his way.”

She found herself outside, staring at the door that had just been closed in her face. Between Beau thinking she was a “rank greenhorn” and Charlotte shooing her out the door, she wasn’t feeling much like the boss at all today. She closed her eyes and took a deep

breath of clean, country air. She smiled as she thought about how much better the air smelled here than in the city, and how quickly she was growing used to it.

“Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there and breathe all day, Boss?” Beau called out from the doorway of the barn.

“I’m coming,” Beth answered, a little nervous about seeing Beau after breaking down in tears in front of him. She walked down the stone path to the barn, admiring the flat paving stones that had been laid out so carefully and the rows of bright marigolds that lined the walk. The drive was empty. Even Lana’s big rig was gone.

She looked up to see Beau leaned back, one foot cocked against the side of the barn. He chewed on a piece of straw, his dark eyes nearly hidden under the lowered brim of his straw hat. She supposed he wore his hat pulled down to hide his face. He was hiding quite a lot beneath that cool exterior.

“OK. I’m here and ready to learn,” Beth announced as she stopped in front of Beau.

He looked her up and down, and the corner of his mouth twitched up as he took in her unscuffed boots and stiff new Wranglers.

“Charlotte must’ve helped you pick out them jeans,” he observed.

“What’s wrong with these jeans?” she demanded as she looked down.

“Not a thing, so just calm yourself down,” he said. The corner of his mouth twitched again, “I just can’t imagine you picking out Wranglers to wear. You seem more the Calvin Klein type.”

“For the record, I haven’t worn Calvins since I was in high school,” she answered with a grin. She raised one eyebrow. “And I did not come out here to discuss my fashion preferences. I came here to learn to ride. Are you still willing to teach me, or shall I ask Joe or Cole? Or maybe Aidan?”

“Come on.” He pushed away from the barn wall and motioned for her to follow him as he entered the barn.

“I see Lana’s rig is gone. Did she leave?”

“Doubt it. Probably just running around causin’ trouble in town.” He shrugged and kept walking, “Then again, with Aunt Lana, you just never know. When she decides it’s time to leave, she’ll just up and leave.”

“I know this is none of my business, but is everything okay between you two?”

He paused in mid-stride before he answered, “You’re right. It’s none of your business.”

She shrugged, but felt a little stung. She had opened up to him, but he clearly didn’t want to confide in her. As they started down the north aisle, the tom cat darted past them. He jumped on top of a tack trunk, then onto a stall wall and up to the hay loft. From that lofty vantage point, he trotted along above the pair of humans.

He stopped every few feet to peer down at them, as if making sure they were still following him. Beth caught herself smiling at the cat’s antics.

“Where’d you get that cat anyway?” Beau asked as they walked.

“What do you mean where did I get him? He was perched on the front porch of the main house the morning after I arrived here.”

“Hmmm. That’s funny,” Beau observed. “I don’t recall seeing that cat until you got here. I thought you brought him with you.”

The two walked the next few feet in silence, then Beau stopped at the end stall, which belonged to Dingo. Beth closed her eyes and groaned.

“I know what you’re thinking, but Dingo is the best beginner’s horse we got. He’s a sweetheart and he’ll train you right. Trust me on this.” Beau grabbed a black nylon halter from the brass horse head hook and slid the stall door open. He slipped the halter over the horse’s head, led him out and clipped him to the tie attached to the wall. He pointed to the tack trunk against the wall.

“Open that up and find the curry brush. You remember what that is, right?”

Beth nodded, opened the wooden trunk and produced a round, black, rubber brush with a red hand strap across the back. She had watched closely since she'd arrived at the ranch, and now she looked forward to showing what she'd learned. She turned to Beau and held up the brush.

“Yup,” he nodded his approval. “Do you remember what to do with it?”

“I think I do. Like this?” She approached the horse on his left side and began moving the brush in small, round strokes over the horse’s neck. Dingo nickered and nodded his head. She jumped back, her eyes wide. Beau laughed and she puffed her breath out, embarrassed.

“You're doing it right. He’s tellin' you it feels good and he wants you to put some muscle in it. Horses are big animals with thick skin. When you rub real gentle, it's like a fly tickling him. So you’ve got to put some energy into it so it feels like a massage.” He stepped forward so that he was just inches behind her. She could feel his breath on her ear as he leaned forward, examining her work.

“Oh, that makes sense,” she said. She rubbed the curry over the horse with a bit more pressure and he nickered and nodded his head again. This time she kept going, and moved down his neck and over his shoulder. He leaned against her, into the rubbing motion. She put her left hand against the horse’s rump as she moved to the horse’s right side. Beau nodded his approval.

After she curried the horse, she turned to Beau and lifted her eyebrows expectantly. “Now what, cowboy?”

He grinned at her, then talked her through the rest of the grooming and said, “You’re following the hair’s growth. That’s good. You’re a natural!”

For the finishing touch, she moved the horse’s heavy forelock to the side so she could brush his whole face with a soft brush. When she brushed, Dingo lowered his head and gently butted against her chest. Beth laughed, and Beau cracked a smile.