Cowboy Comes Home. Carrie Alexander

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      He doffed his cap, an army-issue camo job, and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. It was past noon. The sun had risen above the clouds and was warm enough to heat the back of his neck. Renny nosed the dry grass, looking for green, tugging the reins as he stretched his neck toward a tempting mouthful.

      The last thing he needed was to lose his horse, so many miles from the house. It’d be a long walk back. Meg would tease him mercilessly, probably bring up the last time his horse had arrived at Wild River an hour before him.

      Might be worth it, he mused, to get her to remember—or rather, acknowledge—their history. She remembered; he knew she did. That was why she was being so standoffish.

      Freeing the reins from the fence post, he led Renny along the fence line, coming to a section that was beyond spot repair. Rusty barbed wire lay in snarls in the buffalo grass, tangled in the branches of a fallen tree.

      Sloop and Meg appeared on the rise, loping through the golden grass. The horse’s pale mane and tail made a bright flag in the sunshine. Meg sat astride, slim and quiet in the saddle. Rio’s gut tightened, the way it did when he watched a hawk soar above the mountains, or the sunset burn a line across the desert. She’d always been his own personal force of nature.

      She pulled up alongside Renny. “Problems?”

      He gestured at the downed fence. “I’ll have to move the tree, then run new strands.”

      Meg flicked the reins against her mount’s neck to keep him from nipping at Renny. “All right.”

      “Barbed wire is no good for horses.”

      “Well, no. But I can’t afford board fences right now.”

      “Maybe not up here, but how much grazing land do you need, with only three horses in the barn?”

      “There will be more. Until then, I suppose the home pasture will do.”

      “Then why’m I out here?” Rio caught the sheepish cast to her expression before she glanced away. “You were just trying to keep me busy,” he accused her.

      She turned Sloop in a tight circle. “No…”

      “You wanted me out of the way.”

      “That’s not it,” she protested. With small conviction.

      “My time would have been better spent in the barn. The feed room’s neglected. There’s enough space between some of the boards to see daylight.” He stowed the pliers and wire cutters in the saddlebag. “I won’t be much use to you if you can’t stand to have me around.”

      “You’re wrong.” She’d never admit defeat. “It was just that the good weather won’t hold for long. I thought the fences should be taken care of first.”

      “Busywork,” he groused, giving the weather-worn fence post a shove. It rocked. “You need new posts, too.”

      “Next time I’m in town, I’ll price lumber. Maybe we can do the home pasture for now.” She looked relieved that he’d let her off the hook. “Anyway, I rode out to see if you were hungry for lunch.”

      “That wasn’t necessary. I packed a sandwich and a thermos of coffee.”

      Her eyebrows went up. “When did you manage that?”

      “After breakfast. You were lurking on the back porch, trying to avoid me.”

      “I was pacing, not lurking. I had a craving for a cigarette.” She wheeled Sloop around. “Leave this section for now. Just fix what you can.”

      “Waste of time,” he called, forestalling her departure.

      She glanced back. “What?”

      “There’s no need to send me off to Outer Mongolia, Meg. I was planning to keep to myself anyway. When you want to be rid of me, all you have to do is say the word.”

      She didn’t seem to know how to respond.

      He lifted the second flap of the saddlebag and took out the thermos. “You could even safely share my coffee and sandwich, with no danger of camaraderie.” Let alone intimacy.

      “I rode out here to be sure you got your lunch, didn’t I?”

      “But I’ll bet you had no intention of eating any yourself. At least not with me.” He shook his head. “You’ve got to learn how to relax around me.”

      Her lashes lowered. “I don’t seem to know how to treat you anymore. What do you suggest?”

      “First off, don’t treat me at all. You’re thinking too much when you should be natural. Second, climb down off that horse and have a sip of coffee.”

      “I’m weaning myself off caffeine,” she said, but she dismounted.

      He tied Renny to the rickety post and strolled to an outcropping of rock and sagebrush. “You had coffee this morning.”

      “I allow myself one cup with breakfast.” She smoothed her horse’s reins between her hands. “I gave up all my other vices—alcohol, cigarettes, swearing.”

      Men, he silently added, though he didn’t know that for sure. He was guessing, by her antsiness around him, that she hadn’t been with a man for some time.

      “How come?” he asked.

      She shrugged. “Just had enough of them, is all.”

      “I hope you weren’t sick.” She had the gaunt look of someone who’d been through the wringer, one way or another. He supposed he had the same look.

      “Not exactly what you’d call—” She pressed her lips together. “You see? This is what I wanted to avoid. All this talk. The questions.”

      “Uh-huh. And what sort of conversation would you prefer, ma’am? The common weather variety, I suppose.” He pointed to the sky. “Chilly and clear. Partly sunny, with intermittent clouds. It’s turned into a fine autumn day.”

      She nudged at a mossy stone with the toe of her boot. “Go tell it to the Weather Channel.”

      He screwed the top back on the thermos. The coffee had warmed him from the inside, the sun from the outside. Yet he was still cold. “It’s going to be a long winter, Meg.”

      “It always is.”

      “But with just you and me here, especially if you keep on acting so prickly…”

      Sloop pulled on the reins, snatching at the grass. Absently Meg tugged back. Her eyes were narrowed on Rio’s. “What are you saying?”

      “Ease up. Pull in the quills. I’m not an enemy.”

      She shortened the reins, bringing the horse’s head up. Her face was unnaturally pale beneath the two spots of ruddy color in her cheeks.

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