"This one's yours if you decide to stay," he said as the palamino nudged Amelia's shoulder. "Her name's Daisy. She's even tempered. Good for someone who hasn't ridden much. Amelia stroked the horse's velvety nose.
What makes you think I haven't ridden much? Carrick looked surprised. Have you? My grandfather owned a farm outside Boston. I spent summers there as a child.
I may not be a cowgirl, but I can stay on a horse. She smiled, remembering. Grandfather said I had a natural seat. For a moment, Carrick simply stared at her, something unreadable in his expression. Then he laughed a rich, warm sound that Amelia immediately wanted to hear again.
I stand corrected, he said. Seems there's more to you than meets the eye, Amelia Foster. I could say the same about you, Carrick Montgomery. Their eyes met, and something shifted between them, a moment of genuine connection that surprised them both. Carrick cleared his throat and looked away first.
"We should head back," he said. Storms brewing western sky. Sure enough, dark clouds were gathering on the horizon. By the time they reached the house, the wind had picked up, carrying the scent of rain. They spent the afternoon indoors as the storm rolled through.
Carrick showed Amelia his account books, explaining the ranch's finances with surprising transparency. She was impressed by his meticulous recordkeeping and the careful way he'd built his operation without falling into debt. Most ranchers borrow heavily, he explained. One bad winter can ruin them. I'd rather grow slowly but surely.
That's sensible, Amelia agreed. though I imagine it requires patience. Something I've had to learn, he admitted, wasn't always my strong suit. As lightning flashed outside, Carrick built a fire in the hearth. The crackling flames and drumming rain created a cozy atmosphere that made conversation flow more easily. Amelia found herself sharing stories of her teaching days, the children she'd grown attached to, the satisfaction of watching young minds develop.
You miss it, Carrick observed. Teeing? I do, she acknowledged. But that chapter has closed. Maybe not entirely, he said thoughtfully.
Willow Creek's growing fast. Talk of building a proper schoolhouse by next year. They'll need a teacher. Amelia looked at him sharply. "You wouldn't mind if your wife worked outside the home," Carrick shrugged.
"Ranch needs tending certainly." "But winters are long, and if teaching brings you joy," he let the thought hang unfinished. That evening they prepared supper together, moving around the kitchen with increasing comfort in each other's presence. Over the meal, Carrick explained the routine of ranch life through the seasons, the spring cving, summer grazing, fall roundup, and winter maintenance. It's never easy, he warned.