It was the perfect way to lead into what she wanted to talk to him about.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to Dawson about before the next meeting,” he said.
“You mean us,” she said faintly, rocking in the saddle as Calico started up over a knoll.
“You?”
He sounded so surprised Meg clamped her mouth shut. As close as Clay was to her family, he didn’t seem to know about the troubles the Briggs’s were having. It wasn’t as bad as some, that’s for sure. But it was enough that Meg had trouble sleeping at night wondering how they were going to make it through. If they had a bad year, the results could be devastating to their place.
She reached up and tugged her hat further over her ears.
“So what did you want to show me?”
She reined in and looked down the hill at the ranch. “That,” she said, lifting her voice above the rising wind.
“It’s your place. So?”
The barns were spread out over the farmyard, machinery lined up precisely, fences in good repair. Nothing, she knew, was wasted or neglected. “Dawson has done a good job, hasn’t he?”
“He’s a good rancher.”
“It’s a two-man ranch, though, don’t you think?”
“Same as mine, I suppose. Though I’ve got Pete and some hired help in the summer.”
“We don’t.”
Meg turned her back to the view and looked earnestly at Clay. “For a while I was the second man, remember?”
“And in the summers you did the circuit.”
“That’s right,” she replied, remembering the long days of travel and the rush of competing in rodeos as a barrel racer. Clay was watching her closely. She wanted to share her idea with someone who could see the potential in it rather than just seeing reasons why not. “Calico and I competed. And the money I made paid my expenses and the rest went back into the ranch.”
“Are you saying you want to start racing again?”
Meg thought of the rows of trophies she’d earned over the years. It had been fun and challenging and she’d been good at it. But now she wanted more. To put down roots instead of the constant travel during the season. To make her mark in a different, long-lasting way. She wanted to build something, watch it flourish, and the thrill of winning did have an expiry date.
“Not exactly. I want to do something else, Clay. More than help with the chores and hope for the best, you know?”
She looked up at him, wanting him to understand. “I love this place. It’s mine, too, as much as it is Dawson’s. It’s in here.” She pressed her right hand to her heart. “But yeah, we’re struggling. And the whole damn family is treating me with kid gloves and won’t even listen to my ideas!”
The last part came out with a little more vitriol than she expected and she saw Clay’s lips twitch.
“Meg.” His tone was patronizing and it set her teeth on edge. “You’ve only just come home. Maybe you need to give it time. Wait until you’re better.”
That was what her mother had said. And her dad. And Dawson. She glared up at him. She had expected a better response from everyone, and they kept letting her down. Meg had always been the reliable one. Always the one who took on the burdens of the family and held things together. She knew that and accepted it. Everyone thought she’d run away to Calgary for treatment but she’d really gone because it was best for the family. All she was trying to do was make things better again, to make up for the time she’d been gone. She knew she’d left them in a bind and carried her own bit of guilt about it, even as she knew there was nothing she could have done to prevent it.
“I am better,” she insisted. “I thought talking to you might be different. I thought you’d understand, but I guess not.” She gave the reins a jerk and wheeled away, pushing Calico into a canter over the frozen prairie.
She heard his shout behind her but the wind was in her face now and it felt glorious. They could all go hang as far as she was concerned! Hooves pounded on the solid ground, sending up a familiar rhythm. Right now she felt as if she could ride for days. The air burned deliciously in her lungs. She’d needed this so badly.
Clay blew out a breath of frustration as Megan took off. Why did she take everything he said in the wrong way? He urged Clover to hurry the pace as they followed Meg and Calico up over the butte. He’d only wanted her to try looking at it from her family’s side. They were afraid for her.
Heck, he was afraid for her. She looked wonderful, said all the right assurances. But he still had his doubts that everything would be as okay as she insisted. And that niggling bit of doubt scared the hell out of him.
He drew up alongside of Calico and rather than try to stop her, he kept pace. Megan was the most stubborn woman he knew—next to his aunt Stacy—and he knew sometimes it was better to ride out a storm rather than trying to beat it back. Something warm and satisfying expanded inside him, knowing she was an arm’s length away, her body moving in unison with his. She looked over once and he met her gaze. Her chocolatey eyes glittered at him with devilment. She flashed a challenge of a smile and gave Calico a little nudge to ease her a nose ahead.
He let her take the lead. This time. Because she seemed to need it.
When the horses began to get winded, Meg slowed, bringing them back to a walk. He caught up with her and reined in, the horses’ strides matching each other. “Feel better?” he asked mildly.
“Much,” she said.
She was actually glowing from the physical exertion, her cheeks with pink roses and her eyes dancing beneath the ugly hat. She looked irresistible, all color and snap. Clay frowned. Irresistible? Megan? Uh-uh. She was his best friend’s little sister. And his friend, too. Meg had always seemed to be able to read him better than anyone. They had known each other so long that defining their relationship was difficult. One distinction was easy enough, though—platonic. Getting involved with Megan Briggs would be messy—Dawson would have his head. Add in the other baggage she brought to the table and he was ready to ride in the other direction—fast. He quickly dismissed the thought.
“I don’t think it was just the horses who needed to get out,” he observed. “You’re wound tighter than a spring. I used to be able to read you like a book. Not anymore. There’s too much going on in your head, isn’t there?”
“I suppose so. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m feeling or thinking. And I’m not good at sitting and waiting.”
“Never have been.” He chuckled. “Ever.”
“Which is probably why I’m feeling so frustrated. I need to do something, Clay.”
Something seemed to be pulling them together. She trusted him, he realized with surprise. She was confiding in him and he was shocked and a little bit honored considering how they’d left things all those months ago. She’d come to him to share her plans and he’d reacted like everyone else—he hadn’t even given her the courtesy of listening.
He
