let the horse get accustomed to her smell.
“So where or what is Chillicothe?”
“A ghost town. It was built back in the mid-eighteen hundreds, when the Golden Spur was thriving. The old mine is just a short distance away from the town. I thought you might enjoy looking it all over.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it.”
She led Pearl up a few steps, then lifted the reins over her head. As she put her foot in the stirrup, she felt Quint’s hands wrap around the sides of her waist. She wasn’t expecting him to help her into the saddle and she glanced around with surprise.
“Pearl isn’t that tall. I can manage,” she assured him.
“My father always helped a lady into the saddle. So just in case he’s watching I don’t want to disappoint him.”
With her toe still in the stirrup and her weight balanced on one boot, she paused long enough to allow her gaze to slide warmly over his face. “I’m very glad you invited me out today, Quint,” she said softly.
“I’m very glad you’re here,” he replied, his gaze locking onto hers.
Feeling suddenly quite breathless, she cleared her throat and turned back to the horse. Taking her cue, he helped her into the saddle. Once he was confident that she was in control, he moved away and mounted his horse, a big brown gelding with a stripe down his nose.
“Chillicothe is to the northwest. This way,” he said, motioning slightly to their left. “Not far from here, we’ll hit the old road that led to the town. It’s just a dim path now, but it makes for easy riding.”
“Sounds great.”
As they moved away from the barn, Maura swung Pearl alongside the big brown and the horses set out in an easy trot toward a pasture full of jumping choya. It was the time of summer for the plants to be in full bloom and the pink and yellow blossoms made for a pretty sight as they maneuvered their way through the prickly cacti.
“All of this area needs to be cleared away for pasture,” Quint told her. “That’s one of the things I’ll be doing now that most of the barn and outbuildings are nearly finished.”
“Oh, what a shame. The flowers are so beautiful.”
“Yes, but there would be triple the amount of grass without them.”
Maura cast him an impish look. “You’re a practical man, aren’t you? And not very much like Abe.”
“Oh, I can loosen up—when I need to,” he added.
She laughed. “Well, if you put a third less cattle on this particular range, then you could keep the flowers,” she suggested.
Normally, Quint would have been quick to shoot down such a suggestion, calling it ridiculous and wasteful. But something about the pleasure she was gleaning from the cactus roses made him happy, made him reconsider even the smallest things around him.
“I’ll think about that,” he said.
Halfway through the ride to Chillicothe, they stopped near a deep arroyo. A shallow amount of water covered the rocky bottom while desert willows and twisted juniper grew at precarious angles from its loamy banks.
They rode down into the mini canyon, then dismounted and led the horses to the water’s edge. The day had grown exceptionally warm and while the horses drank deeply, Quint shared his canteen with Maura.
Once the animals had their fill of water, they led them over to the bank and tethered the reins loosely around a willow limb.
After they were certain the horses were secured, Quint said, “I see a nice flat rock over there. Let’s sit a few minutes before we head on to Chillicothe.”
“Sounds good to me,” she agreed. “Right now my legs feel like two pieces of rubber.”
He offered his arm to her. “Here. You’d better hang on to me. Just in case you stumble.”
“Thanks.” She wrapped a hand around his forearm, then quickly moved her clutch higher toward his elbow. “This is your cut arm,” she explained. “I don’t want to injure it again.”
She could have torn the cut wide open again and Quint probably wouldn’t have noticed. Just having her touching him again, walking close by his side, her body brushing against his was enough to send his libido into overdrive.
“Was my grandfather okay with you being gone from Apache Wells today?” Quint asked as he helped her get seated on the big boulder.
Smiling contentedly, she stretched her legs out in front of her. “He was more than okay. He was very happy.”
He eased down beside her on the rock. “Hmmph. That’s not surprising,” he admitted. “Abe thinks I should show more interest in women. And he gets very disgusted with me when I don’t.”
Sighing, she looked up toward the sky. What had started out as nothing but bright blue sky this morning was now filled with fluffy white clouds.
“I know the feeling. Since my divorce, my mother thinks I should be out searching daily for another man.” She shook her head. “She’s been married to my father for nearly forty years. She has no idea how scary it would be without him.”
Quint cast a curious glance her way. “Is it scary for you to be without your ex-husband?”
Her brows arched with faint surprise, she looked at him. “No. I know how to take care of myself. I just meant that it’s scary to think about dating again. I guess—after Gilbert I don’t trust men,” she said, then swiftly shook her head. “That didn’t exactly come out the way it should have. What I was trying to say is that I don’t trust myself to pick the right man.”
Oh, Lord, there had been so many times he’d felt that very same way, he thought. Choosing Holly had been one of the worst mistakes he’d ever made. And though Holly had done the cheating and the leaving, he still considered the whole affair as his mistake.
It had taken Quint quite a while to finally understand and admit to himself that he’d been blind and young where Holly had been concerned. He’d not been mature or wise enough to see that she’d been wrong for him in the first place.
Picking up a few pieces of gravel, he began to toss the tiny pebbles toward the pool of water. “You probably wouldn’t want to tell me what happened to your marriage, would you?”
Even though he could only see her profile, it was enough to tell him that her expression had become shuttered.
“I wouldn’t mind,” she said, then glancing at him, her lips twisted sourly. “Gilbert married me for my money. I didn’t know that at first. In fact, I didn’t know it with certainty until the very end of our marriage. You see, he was a great actor.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Maybe I should start from the first to explain,” she told him. “I’d been working at a clinic in Alamogordo when I first met Gil. We dated for about four months before I finally decided to accept his marriage proposal. Which was impulsive for me. Up until
