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Chapter Fifteen
Ryder nudged his horse forward with a light squeeze of his knees. His father rode along the other side, clicking occasionally at the massive draft horse he preferred riding. Ryder smiled, enjoying the quiet companionability that had settled over them as they worked. He knew his father and knew he was up to something. He rarely rode fence lines anymore, but he’d volunteered to take Hunter’s place that evening.
“Go ahead, Dad,” Ryder prompted him.
Teddy tipped his beige hat back on his head and rested his hands on the horn of his saddle. “With what?”
Ryder sighed. “Speak your mind.”
Teddy nodded. “Time was you’d have avoided riding out with me when you knew I had something to say.”
Ryder couldn’t argue. “Times change.”
His words startled his father, but he nodded before saying, “You’re working hard. And I appreciate it. Around here, with the ranch. At Annabeth’s house—your house.” His father turned all of his attention on him. “Is she expecting?”
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“Yes, sir,” Ryder said.
“Is that why you married her?”
Ryder nodded once.
“A lot of marriages start that way. Seen a few end because of it, too. I don’t want that for you, son. I don’t want that for any of you.” Teddy shook his head. “She’s a mighty stubborn little thing.”
Which was an understatement. In the two weeks since the school board meeting, she’d spent every waking minute acting like he was a parent at her school. She was all professional charm, but she avoided any time alone with him—or eye contact. That didn’t mean there was no hope. It just meant he had to try harder. Ryder laughed. “Yes, sir.”
“But you love her. I can see it.” Teddy clicked his tongue, keeping the horses moving along the barbed-wire fence as they talked. “Always have, if Renata’s pictures are right.” He looked at his son again. “She acts like you’re leaving.”
Ryder nodded.
“Is that the plan?” Ryder heard the tightness in his father’s voice. “Are you leaving?”
“No, sir,” he answered quickly. “But she seems to think so.”
His father laughed. “Women are hard to work out. But your wife, well, I think I see where she’s coming from. She was expecting when Greg passed on. She’s expecting now and—with your history—I imagine she’s waiting for you to go, too. Not die, but leave her alone.” His father grinned. “It’s what she knows, relying on herself.”
Ryder stared at his father.
“Flo might have helped me figure some of this out,” his father admitted. “I went to see her a few nights past and found her in her right mind. Not many women like Florence Chenault.”
Ryder nodded, reeling from his father’s newest revelation.
“Back in the day, we were close.” His father laughed. “I figured she’d tell me what was going on, since you wouldn’t.”
His father’s words stung.
“Not that you and I have ever been good at talking.” His father held up a hand, adding, “That’s my fault, not yours. But there comes a time when there’s no way to avoid talking, so...”
Ryder cocked an eyebrow at his father. “So?”
“Start talkin’.” His father glared at him. “How are you gonna keep Annabeth and Cody in the family?”
Ryder sat back in his saddle, looking up as the thin white clouds moved steadily across the sky. He wished he knew. “Guess I need to try harder.” He’d sent flowers to her office, made ice cream runs, helped with the school field trip to the veterinary hospital and passed up two plum riding opportunities in case she needed anything. But all that seemed to do was irritate her even more.
“Have you tried talking?” his father asked.
Ryder grimaced. “We just said I’m no good at it.”
