Page 36 of If the Boot Fits

An odd look crossed his face. “I’ve made my share. A few of them were real humdingers, too. I would’ve been in a heap of trouble if Bruno hadn’t been around to save my bacon.”

The way he looked at her . . . so probing. As if seeking absolution for something. But what? He’d never wronged her. He’d saved her life, for pity’s sake.

“Well, I for one am glad that Bruno kept you out of trouble. We all need a trusted friend we can count on to get us back on track when we veer off course.” Like Aunt Regina was for her. Like she hoped to be for Ida Mae.

A deeper thought stirred, and Samantha’s hand fell away from the horse as she gave the notion her full attention. “My aunt stayed with Clint and me after my mother passed. He was three at the time and seemed to ask a thousand questions a day, most of them starting with why.” She smiled at the memory. “Whenever I complained about his pestering, Aunt Regina would tell me how blessed Clint and I were to have each other. She’d quote a verse from Ecclesiastes. I don’t remember it word for word, but it went something like ‘Two are better than one, for if one falls, the other can help him up, but woe to the one who is alone when he falls, for he has no one to help him up.’”

A stillness came over the man at her side. He stopped fiddling with the rope, and his posture tensed slightly. Samantha bit her lip. She’d gotten too personal. They’d been talking about a horse, not actual friendship. And what prompted her to start spouting Bible verses? She hadn’t thought about that particular passage in years. Why now? She was just here to learn how to ride, not to delve into the depths of human relationships. She ought to apologize. Make some silly quip and get their conversation back on level ground. But before she could think of the right words to smooth things over, Asher broke the silence.

“I lost both my parents. My father most recently. Six years ago.”

Samantha touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“I was eighteen. Old enough to work to provide for Mama Bess and the boys, but too young to have the experience needed to make more than a piddlin’ wage for the first several years. I felt the woe that verse was talkin’ about. Being alone with no one to help me up. Still do sometimes.”

Asher was the one providing for his mother? Samantha had never had to worry about money, so she’d paid little attention to what things cost or how people made their living. She’d assumed Asher was a cowboy like most of the hands at the Three Cedars, earning a wage for himself, perhaps putting some funds aside to start a ranch of his own someday. But he wasn’t working for himself. He was supporting his family. And had been for years. Since he was eighteen. She was only a year older than that now. What would she do if her daddy and his money disappeared? How would she provide for Clint and herself?

“It must be hard,” she said. “Bearing the weight of that responsibility.”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “But family is worth the sacrifice.” He leaned an arm on the saddle and gazed across the open field. “I just wish I could do more for them. It grates my hide that Jack had to take a job at the livery and that Mama Bess lost her garden.”

“Her garden?”

A smile spread across his face. “The finest in Palo Pinto County. I used to hate it when she would make me weed when I was a kid, unless the strawberries were ripe. Then I’d eat while I worked. Mama Bess would pretend to scold and fuss about me not leaving enough berries for her to put up jam, but she kept sending me to that section of the garden to work, so I think it actually made her happy to see me enjoying the fruits of her labor.” He shook his head. “Mama Bess has a gift for growing things. Squash, tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, carrots, potatoes, corn, beets, watermelon, chickpeas, greens. There’s nothing she can’t grow. Early spring through late autumn, she was in that garden, planting, nurturing, and harvesting. She’d can enough of the surplus to keep us in food all winter long. Any excess above that was shared with neighbors and friends. Nothing went to waste.” His smile dimmed. “Losing the house she’d shared with my father was hard, but losing her garden . . . I think that tore out a little piece of her soul.”

He made no mention of the role her father played in those circumstances, but Samantha felt the weight of guilt settle over her at his words anyway. The urge to cast her father as the villain rose within her, but she wouldn’t give the accusation voice. She’d blamed her father for far too many things over the years that weren’t actually his fault. He was her father, and she owed him her loyalty and respect. She’d not speak ill of him in front of others. But she would speak to him in private. Tonight.

Asher straightened away from the horse and offered her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Boy, that turned melancholy all of a sudden, didn’t it? Sorry about that. You’re here to ride, not to get mired in my family troubles.” He opened his stance and waved her close to the horse. “Come take the reins, and we’ll get you in the saddle.”

“Asher.”

His eyes met hers.

“The riding can wait.”

His brows arched in question.

“Friends share thoughts and worries with each other. It’s how we lighten the burden and find the strength to keep moving forward when situations try to beat us down. You and I haven’t known each other long, but I hope you consider me a friend . . . as I do you.” Although friend seemed a rather mild word to describe the connection she felt with this man. “I might not be able to help you repair a roof or reconstruct a chicken coop, but I can listen and pray on your behalf. It might not be much, but—”

“It’s a lot. Thank you.” He gently clasped her arm. The touch lasted only a moment, but it carried a wealth of emotion that stirred an answering response within Samantha’s breast.

This time when he grinned, his eyes danced, causing a strange flopping sensation in her belly. “Now, about those lessons.”

She smiled and moved close, both to him and the horse. His arm brushed against hers as he handed her the reins, and tingles erupted in her midsection.

Focus, Samantha. You don’t want him thinking you’re an empty-headed ninny.

“Keep the reins short and grab a fistful of mane with your left hand. Good. Now I’m going to give you a leg up. When you’re ready, bend your left leg at the knee, bringing your shin parallel to the ground. I’ll grip your knee and ankle, and on the count of three, you’ll jump, and I’ll boost at the same time. Got it?”

Samantha nodded. “I think so.”

“When I lift, reach for the saddle horn with your right hand and swing your right leg over Bruno’s back.” He offered a smile of encouragement. “Ready to give it a try?”

“Ready.” She turned and targeted her gaze on the saddle horn as she lifted her left foot from the ground.

Feeling Asher’s hands grip her leg proved extremely distracting, but the minute he started counting, her attention sharpened.

“One. Two. Three!”