Once and Always (Women of Character) (14 page)

"Well, when people see him in
action they'll realize there's more to him than just a name." Tyler
dropped the brushes back in the grooming box. "This guy's won more in
competition than any other horse I own."

Anna stepped up to the horse and
gently rubbed the underside of his jaw. "You'll wow everyone so much that
they won't dare make fun of you, Dud," she promised.

"Is that what they do?"
Tyler asked from behind her, his voice deadly quiet.

Anna stiffened, then twisted
around to face him, one hand on the horse's shoulder. "What?" she asked
warily.

"Do people make fun of
you?"

She went perfectly still, no words
coming readily to mind. Dudley moved his feet impatiently, then began to paw
the dirt floor. Anna stepped back. "It has happened," she admitted in
a low voice, staring at the opposite wall.

"Annie―"

She cut him off with a chopping
motion of her hand. "Tyler, you'll never understand. I'm treated
differently, people can't help it. Sometimes they're downright cruel in their
curiosity. It's different if kids ask questions, but adults can be incredibly
insensitive."

"When?"

"One time I was in town and a
woman I knew said it was a shame I couldn't feel anything on my right cheek.
She asked if I had burn scars on other parts of my body."

"Curiosity?"

"Maybe. But I thought at the
time there was more. She was someone I'd gone up against in competition and
we'd never really gotten along. It's almost like she was pleased about what had
happened."

"Maybe she was someone who
you can't judge everyone by.  Maybe something about her was off anyway."

Anna paused, frowning.  "I
never thought of it like that. All I knew at the time was it really hurt."

"Whether it was one
insensitive person or not―I wish I could fix it." Tyler touched her
arm, a momentary contact, but burning all the same.

"You can't. It's got to come
from me. I have to become immune to the hurt or ignore conversations that stop
when I enter a room. It's my insecurity, and there's nothing you can do to make
it better. It's not up to you to fix it."

Tyler's hand lifted and stroked
her cheek, the gesture keeping Anna immobile. She still felt on uncertain
ground with him, as if they were teetering too close to where they'd left off
six years ago. She stepped back, not liking the vulnerability she felt.

"I know there's nothing I can
do, Annie, but I wish there was." He turned and led the horse outside.

Anna battled a hot burning in her
throat coupled with an uneasy feeling of gratitude. Why feel empowered because
of a few simple words from Tyler? Surely forgiveness didn't come that easy? The
hurt from his leaving couldn't just dissolve.

By the time Tyler walked back
inside, Anna had composed herself and was moving some pitchforks out of the way
into a corner.

"Whoa," Tyler said,
removing the handles from her grasp. "You're not supposed to be lifting
anything with that hand. You don't want to take a chance on the stitches
pulling out."

"I'm fine," she
protested. "It hardly bothers me. Anyway, they'll be coming out in six
days."

"We're not taking
chances," he said firmly. "If you're ready, I'll show you the feeding
schedule." He walked over to the metal grain bins that had been brought in
the day before and pushed up the lid. "I have grain rations and
supplements written down in this notebook," he said, indicating a clipboard
hanging on the front of the bin. "And there's separate bins for oats,
flaked corn and pellets. If you have any questions let me know."

Anna ran her fingertip over the
notes he'd written, his handwriting large and bold on the lined paper. "It
looks pretty straightforward."

"Everyone's been fed
already." He hesitated. "I plan to take a ride and check out some of
the horses. I'd ask you to go, but it's probably not a good idea because of
your arm."

"I'd love go for a
ride," she said firmly. "If I'm careful, there shouldn't be a
problem. I'll be fine," she added for extra emphasis when he still
hesitated. She turned and lifted Spirit's bridle from the hook. "You can
saddle my mare for me if that makes you feel better," she added, tongue in
cheek.

He smiled slightly. "I almost
forgot how stubborn you can be."

They stared at each other a
moment. Memories flitted through Anna, some sweet, others somber. "What
happened six years ago?" she blurted. "Why did we let each other go
so easily?"

She turned around abruptly, giving
Tyler her back. "Forget it," she mumbled, embarrassed at her own
wayward mouth. How could she have said that? It was old history. "I'll get
your horse," she threw over her shoulder, hoping he'd let her comment go.

Anna approached the muscled dark
bay gelding in the stall next to her horse. She opened his stall door and spoke
to him softly, admiring his elegant head as she buckled the chinstrap of his
halter. She heard the scuff of a footfall behind her and turned to find Tyler
standing outside the stall watching her. He reached past her and snapped on the
lead line. "I don't want you to bump your arm."

Anna stepped from the stall, Tyler
and the horse behind her.

"Letting go wasn't easy,
Annie, not unless ripping your guts out is easy."

Anna's mouth went dry. She saw him
again that last night as the deputies led him from the cottage. His eyes angry
and bright, his body stiff with resentment whereas moments before he'd made
such sweet love to her. He'd looked furious with her, as if it had been her
fault the sheriff had come for him.

"It wasn't easy," she
admitted. "It taught me not to take anything for granted."

"We both learned
something." Tyler brushed the horse's hindquarters. "This is
Frisco," he said abruptly, obviously not wanting to talk further about the
past. "You can start riding him when your arm is better."

"He's a fine looking
animal." She followed his lead. "Is he yours or a boarder?"

Tyler threaded his fingers through
the horse's coarse black forelock. "Frisco is my guy." Tyler began to
rub a rubber curry comb over the horse.

Anna entered her mare's stall.
After tying her horse, she lightly curried her and then grabbed the brush,
enjoying the feel of it gliding over Spirit's gray coat.

"I've raised Spirit from
birth," she said, raising her voice. "She's such a game horse.
Anything I ask of her, she's there. Crazy, but sometimes I think she can read
my mind."

"If you're lucky, you have
one, maybe two horses like that in your life," Tyler said.

Anna ran her hands down Spirit's
legs.

"I'll take care of her
feet," he said. "I don't know if you've been in the tack room, but
each horse has their own tack. The names are written on tape under the saddle
horn. I have no problem with you riding any of the horses," he added.

"I'll forewarn you that I
will take you up on the offer," she said lightly, following him into the
tack room. Since the last time she'd been in here, more than half a dozen
saddles had been added. As she stared at the saddletrees along the wall and the
polished wainscoting, she smiled reminiscently. "Martin once told me he
built this tack room himself, you know. He was really good with his
hands."

"He did a good job,
Annie," Tyler said, looking around. "This place was built to last.
It's rare to find this type of workmanship. Martin and I might not have agreed
on a lot of things, but I know what kind of work he could do, on and off a
horse."

As Tyler hefted Spirit's saddle on
his hip, Anna followed him from the room, admiring him for admitting as much as
he had about Martin.

Anna watched him place the bright
blue saddle pad on Spirit's back, then the saddle. He tightened the girth and
pulled the leather through the ring, then dropped the stirrup back in place.
Anna led her horse from the barn and out into the sunlight, thoughtfully
stroking Spirit's neck as she watched Tyler slip his horse's bridle in place.

When his horse was saddled Tyler
grabbed his hat from a hook inside the door and exited the barn. Anna was
surprised to see a camera in his hands. Coming to a standstill, he took several
pictures of the mountains beyond the pasture. Anna waited patiently, surprised
by this new facet of Tyler. When she'd known him he'd never shown any interest
in photography.

Anna leaned back against her mare
and stared up at the clear sky, then heard a series of clicks beside her. She
looked at Tyler and found he'd turned the camera on her and snapped a picture.
Anna choked on a startled breath and shielded her cheek with a cupped hand, the
movement instinctive and too late. She dropped her hand.

"Save your film," she
snapped.

Tyler's expression turned wary.
Instantly, she felt guilty, but then wondered why she should feel guilty, she
hadn't stuck a camera in someone's face and invaded their privacy. She quickly
turned away. "I don't appreciate having my picture taken." She swiped
at her cheek, the mountains a blur in the distance. It was ridiculous to be so
sensitive. She thought he understood her sensitivity, but now realized she
couldn't expect anyone else to understand how she felt about her face.

Tyler made an impatient sound.
"Hell, that was thoughtless. I'm sorry. I should have asked."

She turned back to him. "Why
did you do that?" she demanded.

"It was the way you looked
with that horse beside you. It was a picture I had to take."

Anna snorted in disbelief and
glared at him, but the genuine concern on his face made her realize she was
acting out of proportion. She tried to rein in her anger, her sense of outrage
at being caught off guard. "M-maybe I overreacted," she finally admitted
gruffly.

Tyler mounted his horse and Anna
tried to get control of herself. She felt totally out of control where the
scarring was concerned. Sensing her turmoil, Spirit uncharacteristically danced
away from her. Anna lifted a hand to soothe the mare.

Tyler sat watching her. "Are
you sure you still want to go for a ride? I'd never hurt you
deliberately," he added in a low voice.

Anna caught her breath. She could
contradict that statement, but it was an old wound she didn't want to revisit.
He had hurt her once by turning his back when she'd needed him the most.
"Forget it." Quickly, Anna mounted her mare, who was still acting
restless, and urged her into a trot. She needed action, something to clear her
head of blue eyes and the man that was once again turning her life upside down.

Anna stopped her mare after about
a hundred yards at the first turnoff and looked back at Tyler. "Do you
want to head down into the valley or go higher?"

"Higher," he said.

He pulled his hat lower but she
could feel his eyes piercing her.

"How's the trail to the
summit?"

Anna's breath caught short in her
throat. How they used to race up there! "I've kept it pretty clear of
debris, but the path is still narrow just beyond those hemlocks up ahead. It's
mostly grass cover and it's a nice, easy run to stretch their legs."

"I remember how you used to
ride like hell through there."

"With Martin yelling at me to
slow down." She smiled over the memory, then sized up his horse.
"Your guy has longer legs, but my girl has stamina." Fondly, she
patted Spirit's neck.

"Let's test that
theory," he said, and nudged his horse into a smooth lope.

Anna followed him. When the trail
widened she drew level and gave a triumphant laugh as she and Spirit raced
past, saluting Tyler as she took the lead. He followed her as they reached the
crest of the hill and for a moment it might have been six years ago . . .two
kids wanting nothing more than the wind in their face and a fast horse beneath
them.

She slowed Spirit to a trot and
then a walk. With a quickening of breath, she acknowledged once again an
intense love for the fresh morning breeze and the ability to ride her horse as
she pleased. From her vantage point she looked at the ranch laid out below
them, the early spring grass, the sun promising it would be a banner day.
Everything felt perfect right now, as if she'd been able to turn the clock back
to a happier time.

Anna watched Tyler dismount,
distracted as she stared at his straight back and the way his jeans fit across
his behind. Feeling as if she'd done this before, she swung her leg over the
saddle and jumped to the ground, sitting on a large rock as she deliberately
turned her attention to his horses in the pasture below.

"This was always the best
spot on the ranch," Tyler said, coming to stand beside her.

Bittersweet memories wound around
her as their glances met. She couldn't hold that glance so she looked away,
recalling the first time they'd made love. It had been on this hill, just past
dusk and not a soul around for miles. Anna pushed her hair away from her face
as a soft breeze swirled it around her head. She wondered if he remembered that
hushed day, the trees sheltering above, the lush, green ferns beckoning. With a
self-deprecating groan, Anna wondered why she'd ridden to this spot. Did she
want to stir up the pain of the past, or just try to move beyond it?

"I have such a love for this
ranch," she said abruptly, uncomfortable with the bombardment of memories.
"Sometimes even I don't understand it."

Tyler scanned the ranch below them
and shrugged his shoulders. "You have a special connection with the land.
You always did, like it possessed you or something."

"You say that like you can't
fathom such a connection to trees and soil. Martin told me once it's been in
his family for five generations." She gave a short laugh. "And now
I'm barely hanging on to it. That hurts like hell to admit."

"It's your family, too,"
Tyler reminded her. "Your heritage."