She led the way out of the river, checking to make sure he followed. He did, rather slowly, concentration making his brows furrow and his jaw clench. His hands gripped the reins so tightly, his knuckles showed white.
“Don’t let her know you’re afraid.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” he asked, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
“Relax.” She slowed Spitfire, allowing him to catch up to her. “Hold the reins loosely and let her just walk. There’s no rush to get back to the house. No rush at all. We can take as long as we want. We’ll follow the river. There’s a nice path beneath the trees.”
She set the pace—a slow, gentle walk, but didn’t speak, allowing him all the time he needed to get over his fear, though she did understand why he was afraid.
After a while, she glanced at him from beneath the brim of her hat. He was beginning to relax a little, his grip on Clementine’s reins not quite as tight, but there was still tension in his face—his eyes were squinted, focused straight ahead.
Her heart ached for him. “How are you doing, Jake?”
“So far, so good.” He glanced at her and gave her a half smile. “I will admit that I can’t wait to get my feet on the ground.”
“We’ll be home soon enough.”
As she’d promised,Pequeña Casacame into view, and she led the way past the little house, staying on the path that would eventually bring them behind the bunkhouse. She kept turning around, making sure he was still with her. His face was still alittle pale, but gaining color, and his breathing had returned to normal.
I almost lost him!She shook her head to dislodge the horrible thought and dismounted at the fence behind the ranch’s outbuildings. “We can walk from here.”
“Thank God!” Jake laughed as he slipped from the saddle. He stomped around for a minute, his boot heels making indentations in the dirt. “Nice and solid. I like it.”
She opened the gate, allowing him to lead Clementine through, then followed through herself, making sure the gate was latched properly. “I’m glad you’re all right. I’ll admit, I was afraid for you.” She fell into step beside him.
“I was afraid for me, too.” He let out a deep sigh. “Any idea what happened? Why Clementine acted the way she did? She could have killed me.”
Evie shook her head, her eyes roaming his face. She started to smile as some of her concern dwindled. She’d fallen in love with his gentle ways, with how he treated her as well as everyone else on the ranch, and that included the horses, dog, and cats. He was, in her book, a good man—an honest man, in both his actions and his words, and honesty was such an important thing for her.
She stopped Spitfire in the middle of the path. Jake stopped beside her, giving her such a quizzical look, she couldn’t help smiling at him.
“Why are we stopping? We’re almost home.”
She said nothing as she dropped Spitfire’s reins and approached him. Tilting his hat back a little, she placed her hands on both sides of his face and gazed deeply into his soulful amber eyes. “I’m so glad you’re all right.” She brought his head down and touched her lips to his.
Jake dropped his reins as well and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, so close she could feel the beating of his heart. Or was that her own heart pounding so erratically?
He broke the kiss but didn’t release her. Instead, his embrace tightened, bringing her closer still, pressing her body against the full length of his. “Well, if that’s what I’m going to get every time I face death, I’ll do it more often.”
“Let’s just avoid that, shall we? I don’t need an excuse to kiss you.” And to prove her point, she sought his lips once more.
He let out a long sigh as she pulled away, just a little, his mouth spreading into the smile she’d fallen for the moment she met him.
She touched his face, running her fingers along his jawbone. “Let’s go home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She led the way into the barnyard, cutting between the barn and the bunkhouse, then stopped, surprised to see Heath was already there, standing in the open doorway of the bunkhouse, arms folded across his chest, as he watched whoever was inside. She assumed it was Oscar, because his horse, the big black stallion with the fancy saddle, stood next to Goldie, his reins wrapped around the porch railing, his sides heaving.
Strange that they’d beat Jake and her to the house. She hadn’t seen him pass by. Then again, she had taken Jake back to the ranch by way of the river to slow their progress and make the ride easier and more comfortable for him.
“What’s going on?” She moved a little closer, then brought Spitfire to a stop.
Heath, her easy-going, no-problem-is-too-big nephew turned his angry eyes on her, which surprised her. Teddy was her angry one, not Heath. “I fired him.”
“Who? Oscar?”
He gave a slight nod then went back to watching the man in the bunkhouse. A few colorful words, said in Spanish, which she understood perfectly, came from within the building and met her ears. Her face heated. Some of them, she assumed, were aimed at her—if she was theputaof his tirade—but mostly, the expressions Oscar used denigrated Jake. None of it was acceptable. She glanced at Jake. If he understood what Oscar was saying, he didn’t show it.
