wouldn’t understand, even if she tried to explain. Best to keep things simple between them.
“I get it. You don’t want to be involved with a woman who has children. And you’re probably right. We were always best at being just friends.”
“Right.” Colt didn’t sound convinced, however. The look he gave her was rather pensive, in fact.
Sierra arrived with their food then, and she set the fragrant plates in front of them. “Hope you enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else.”
For a few minutes Leah and Colt ate in silence, though Leah couldn’t remember when she’d last had such a small appetite. Then Colt put down his fork.
“Everything you just said makes perfect sense. But you have to admit…we did have something there for a bit, didn’t we?”
Leah didn’t dare reply, or look up from her food, because she’d been thinking the exact same thing.
Chapter Four
After lunch Colt dropped Leah back at her place. He watched her walk away from him, her long dark hair swaying from side to side with each stride. She gave him a final wave before getting in her truck to drive back to her mother’s.
He ought to be pleased with how the day had gone. He’d made his apologies and atoned for his rude behavior by helping Leah move into her new home. They’d cleared the air between them, and agreed that they were better off staying just friends.
But he didn’t feel pleased. He felt…restless and a little, well, unhappy. The feeling wasn’t a new one. But it was becoming more pervasive. Used to be he’d have a couple of good weeks, maybe even a month, when he’d be happy to be back home after a series of rodeos. Now it didn’t seem to matter where he was…he was always wishing he could be somewhere different.
Colt drove back downtown to the post office. He parked, then reached for the stamped envelope he’d put in the glove box earlier. He could have set up automatic payments with his bank, but he got some satisfaction out of this monthly ritual. He went to the drop box on the wall of the post office, hesitating for a moment, then releasing the letter into the capable hands of the U.S. postal system.
He liked knowing that in a couple of days the letter, with his handwriting, would be sitting on their kitchen counter. Tangible evidence of his existence.
Colt returned to his truck and headed back to the ranch. He wished he could feel enthusiastic about something. Anything. Spending time with his family, working with the horses, checking in with Uncle Josh on the cattle side of their operation. But he didn’t.
The source of the problem went back twelve years. His father had still been alive then, and Colt had considered going to the old man for advice. But the timing had been bad. Ace had just been accepted into veterinary college and their parents had been so pleased. So Colt had kept everything to himself, and done what had seemed to him to be the right thing at the time.
Only ever since then, and especially in the last few years, he’d started to wonder if he’d been wrong. Dead wrong.
Last night Leah had said something to him about being proud of her decision, of knowing she’d done the right thing.
And that was the crux of his problem, Colt realized. He wasn’t proud. In fact, he was damned ashamed.
* * *
THE DAY HAD TURNED unseasonably hot, almost eighty degrees Colt figured, as he strode across the pasture looking for Midnight. He could feel the prickle of sweat under his hat, and thought longingly of a swim in the family’s pool.
But first he needed to talk to his mother. She hadn’t been in the house, so the office in the barn was his next guess. He figured he’d say hello to Midnight on his way.
The stallion and Fancy Gal were grazing laconically in the shade of an aspen grove. As soon as Midnight spotted him, he snorted and tossed his head. Almost as if he were trying to say hello.
“You are one fine-looking animal,” Colt said as he drew closer. “And no, Fancy Gal, I am not speaking about you.” He gave the mare a friendly scratch on the side of her neck and when she nuzzled up to his shoulder, he laughed.
“You know what I have, don’t you?” He pulled the AB Horse Treat out of his shirt pocket and broke her off a piece. The rest he offered to Midnight.
The stallion was more stand-offish than the mare. He thrust his head back and glared at Colt with his dark brown eyes, before condescending to take the food.
Once he had the cookie, though, Midnight backed off. He munched through the treat in no time, then gave Colt another look. This time Colt felt as if the animal were pleading with him. And not for another cookie.
“What do you want, Midnight Express?” Colt didn’t think he was projecting his own emotions on the animal, when he sensed a certain restless longing in him. Maybe he should find out more about Midnight’s history and see if there were clues to why he wasn’t settling in more easily.
Colt left the horses, then made his way to the equestrian barn. “Mom, you here?”
“In the office, Colt.”
He found her behind the large oak desk, glasses settled halfway down her nose, frowning at the adding machine. “Darn thing just keeps making mistakes today.”
Colt noticed several of the filing cabinet doors were open. Some of the papers had spilled onto the scarred plank floor. He bent over to pick them up. “What’s this? Some kind of cash-flow statement?”
“It’s a condition of our bank loan. We’re supposed to send them these reports every quarter. This one is due at the end of the month.”
Colt couldn’t have asked for a better lead-in. “Well, interesting you should say that, Mom, because I was just talking to someone who’s setting up a new bookkeeping business in Roundup and she’s looking for clients.”
His mother peered at him over the top of her glasses. “Go on.”
“The… Well, the woman is Leah Stockton. Do you remember her?”
“Sure do. She and Cheyenne Sundell were the competitors to beat back in Dinah’s barrel racing days. She used to ride that beautiful paint.”
“Country Girl,” Colt recalled. Leah’s horse had not only been a beauty, but she’d also been light on her feet, too. He’d never seen a horse make tighter turns around a barrel.
He moved toward the whiteboard on the wall where they kept track of the rodeo bookings for the bucking stock. “Looks like a busy schedule.”
“Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t too busy. If our breeding program is as successful as Ace thinks it could be, maybe we could afford to slow up a little next year.”
“In the meantime, it seems like a smart idea to get you some office help. You know, Leah doesn’t barrel race anymore. She has two little kids to support.”
“I did hear about that. She married some cowboy she met at the Calgary Stampede, but they ended up divorced. Her mother is pretty upset about it.”
“Well,
