They lay side to side, kissing and talking for a long time before it got serious. It started side to side, then they rolled her on top, then they rolled him on top, and they finished side to side, a long, slow, gentle finish, through which she purred, and he softly kissed around her open mouth, always gently caressing. It was beautiful and reflected how she felt about the relationship.
She spooned in behind for the night, holding him tight and whispering, “It’s okay” when the bad dreams caused his body to struggle.
Chapter 11
Molly got one of Silas’ young stable workers to take the photo the next morning in front of the stables. She wore her leather hat, vest, and moccasins but with a different western blouse and bolo tie. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she snugged in tight. They both stood so Beryl’s spectacularly straight mule ears were even with their hats. Shadow and Bear posed at their sides, the full load on Beryl visible behind. Molly asked that half a dozen photos be taken so she could choose the best one.
After, they walked together to the trailhead where he gave her a hug and kiss before departing. Molly and Shadow watched the expedition move up the trail. He stopped to wave at the turn that would send them out of sight. Shadow was restless and barked but seemed to understand that Bear would be a regular visitor, not a resident. Molly knew Shadow understood her place was with her and that Bear’s place was with Bart.
Molly’s mind was racing as her mountain man disappeared from view.
She made the rounds of the stables, diner, and store before settling at her desk in the administration building. She normally brought up the financials, but today she was spent. She poured a cup of strong, black coffee and sat back in her chair, pondering her state of affairs.
Bart had been so comfortable around her on his first visit. She hadn’t seen or felt any of the PTSD. A normal guy with some restlessness in the night. But, this visit, she got a full dose. His unease in a crowd of people. Fighting his demons in the night. An hour of therapy with a professional. The hot rod backfire. A focused effort to get through Fred Meyer. Reluctance to be around for the Fourth of July. She’d gotten a fuller understanding of why he was in the mountains.
He’d made clear how happy he was in the wild. Peaceful and quiet, close to nature, doing what he loved. The trips out were for necessities. He had to meet periodically with his therapist, provision, and attend to his secret business. And, now, have a few good bonks with Molly.
Secrets were no good. He lived in a secret place. He had a secret business. For some reason, he was secretive about his family. Or was he? He spoke fondly about his relationship with Kitty. But everything Molly had learned she’d had to pry out of him. He wasn’t volunteering anything. Well, he wasn’t volunteering anything about anything. She’d had to pry everything out of him. Maybe he was just a private person by nature. Maybe the PTSD had reinforced that. Maybe living alone in the wild made an introverted person withdraw even more.
She had an image of his place. A little cabin snugged away in a deep wood but with grazing nearby for Beryl. A small roundcylinder stove for heat. A woodshed bigger than the cabin. An elaborate chimney system that dispersed the smoke into tall old growth trees. An outside Chinese stone cooking oven. A wood chopping block, piles of firewood nearby. She could picture his family eating together, Bart, Bear, and Bella eating the mush of the day, Beryl nearby working on a pail of grain, Blitz on a limb picking away at a bone. It made her laugh. Yes, he had his own family. And he was happy there. Well, he deserved some happiness after what he’d been through.
She hadn’t expected him to have money. He’d banked his tax free disability check for eight years. Never spent a dime. The way the stock market had been going, that was a pretty tidy nest egg right now, especially if he had another income that allowed it to continue growing. The internet business, hmm. He was very comfortable with a laptop and deeply engaged with whatever he was working on. Yes, a very unusual mountain man with solar panels in the wilderness to charge batteries for lights, laptop, and Kindle. Paid for everything with credit cards. Had money in the bank. An expensive dog. An expensive jenny mule. Worked hard at his personal grooming. Wanted to be clean shaven for her. Despite living in the wild, his clothes were clean and tidy, and he was well educated. But, he still was a mountain man living off the grid deep in the heart of the Pasayten Wilderness who only came out when he needed to, and who was quite anxious to get back when his business was over.
How much sense did this relationship make? He had serious mental and emotional issues. So much so, the federal government declared him unemployable. That was another way of acknowledging he was dangerous. She’d seen what happened when a hot rod backfired. What would have happened in the diner if a waitress had dropped a tray of dishes? Would he have had a gun out firing before he knew what happened? She’d heard about men with PTSD hurting women they were with. Hisinstinct was to protect her, but he didn’t have control over his impulses. In twenty seconds, Roddy killed a man in a bar for slapping his girlfriend. In less than a second, he’d had Molly on the ground in downtown Omak. How smart was it to engage in a relationship with that kind of man?
So was this just a fling? Would he ever be coming out of the mountains? Was she voluntarily entering into a relationship with a man she’d see once a month for sex and a couple happy hours? How interested was she in finding a life partner? She didn’t think about it much, but the clock was ticking. They’d talked about kids. She really didn’t think about kids. It wasn’t a priority, but she wasn’t against it. As she’d told Bart, it was really about her partner, if she ever found one.
Should she be concerned that she was mid-thirties, attractive, with a body that appealed to men, and still single? She always attributed that to a strong, independent spirit that ran in her family. It worked for her now. She didn’t feel a need to have a partner. But how about later? Would she regret not having a family? Would she regret growing old jumping cowboy to cowboy?
She didn’t need answers to any of those questions. But this particular cowboy was triggering those thoughts. She’d been with a lot of men. Most had been good people. But there was something different about this guy, this mountain man. She’d been instantly comfortable with him. She liked having him close. She liked talking with him. She liked looking at him. He was very thoughtful, making the bracelet and leather gifts, bringing beer and wine, helping in the kitchen.
And the lovemaking. Oh my, the lovemaking. He was so attentive to her. And respectful. She loved every way he touched her. Mainly, that he wanted to touch her and couldn’t keep his hands off her, in the shower, during sex, in bed, and even in the kitchen. They’d had sex in every configuration half a dozentimes, from tender to heart-pounding, rough, stand-up sex. God, she could still feel that, where he’d been. His hard shaft grinding against her place. And it still felt so good. Thinking back on it was arousing.
No decisions to be made now. She had enough on her mind. Her thoughts turned to the coming weeks.
With the good weather, capital improvements at the resort were getting underway. One new waterfront cabin. Five new RV sites. An expanded lake view deck with two fire pits for the diner. A walk-in beer cooler for the store. Three new fishing boats. Ten new stalls at the stables. And more landscaping and flowers everywhere.
Molly loved improving Summer’s End and felt blessed to have the perfect contractor. Red and his father had built most of the resort. Red’s father, Buster, had been Mack 3’s closest friend. Molly grew up riding with Misty, Buster’s daughter. Close family friends for two generations, there were no written contracts, just handshakes, and a commitment to do right by the other. She and Red had walked the jobs and he’d given her bids. After negotiating the cost down, Molly had accepted the deals. The handshakes were done and Red was on site working the first priority, the expanded outdoor deck for the diner just in time for the busy summer season.
She still had time to plan for Shadow’s pups. She had the birthing room set up in the pantry. Shadow was sleeping there now. Molly was feeding Shadow protein supplements to keep her strong and fortify the pups. She had an appointment with Vivian, the Vet she’d worked for, to get the ultrasound when Shadow was at six weeks. That would tell her how many pups to expect and how they were doing.
But, heaviest on her mind was Jo. She needed to have that conversation with Silas. She trusted Silas to know when it was time. On the last two rides, Jo wouldn’t even trot a hundredyards. Several times last week, Silas reported she wouldn’t go out to graze in the pasture with the other horses. Molly’s top priority right now was doing right by Jo even though she dreaded the next step. She promised herself she’d have the talk with Silas in the morning.
She turned to her computer and toggled to her email. Time to send the photo to Kitty.
Dear Kitty,
Bart asked me to send the attached photo to you. He said your family was clamoring for more. I tried to extricate myself, but Bart insisted, so there we are with Beryl fully loaded and Bart and Bear just leaving to go back in the mountains.
Shadow is expecting in about four weeks and Bart has promised to bring Bear for the birth, so that’s the next time I expect to see him, around July 1.
And I don’t know what he told you about the Stampede, but he set up the next appointment with his VA therapist for that time, so it’s a pretty sure deal that he’ll be here the second week in August. He told me if you came, he’d plan to stay a little longer. His standard stay now is two nights.
He stayed at my cabin again this time, and he’s planning to stay with me on his next trip. So I guess we’re an item at this point. I wonder what that means?
I know you can relate to this. My horse of seventeen years, Jo, is near the end. Jo and I rode our entire careers together. But, it’s time. Her tank is empty. And in the coming weeks I’m going to have to deal with that. Our stables manager, Silas, is a former rodeo rider and my closest horse friend, so he’ll be helping me deal with this. I dread so much what needs to be done.
I’m not sure why Bart doesn’t do a better job keeping in touch with his family. He certainly speaks fondly of you and everyone. I can’t figure out if he’s just an independentintrovert, or if there’s something going on there. Feel free to ignore this, or enlighten me with whatever thoughts you may have.
