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He poked at the fire. “If I was still back in New York, I probably wouldn’t have even gone to bed yet. Right before I came here, I was staying with a friend who was known for his all-night parties. Not particularly conducive to turning in early.”
“Somehow, you strike me as a guy who doesn’t mind an all-night rager or two.” I said it in a teasing voice, but I was also trying to remind myself of the stark differences between us and our lifestyles. I needed to remember all the reasons we would never fit together as a couple.
He lifted a shoulder. “Couldn’t afford anywhere else.”
It was hard to imagine someone as polished and poised as Richard Dunning being broke, especially given the expansiveness of his wardrobe and skin care regime. Then I remembered the look on his face in the tack store when he had to admit to me he couldn’t afford the boots because his father had cut him off. It made me realize just how little I knew about his family situation.
I thought about asking more, but it was clear from Richard’s expression that his financial insolvency was a bruise he didn’t want poked, so I let it go. We ate and drank quickly before packing up the tent and tacking the horses. Once we were in the saddle again, I radioed Jed to ask for an update on the trailer pickup. He said Harrison was already on his way but would probably need our help rounding up the stock and getting them loaded.
Since Harrison’s arrival was still at least an hour away, we rode another search grid and finally found the missing heifer fat and happy, gorging herself on new grass just outside a pasture we’d searched the day before.
“Christ almighty,” I muttered before directing Richard on how to help me herd her back toward the pasture where Harrison would meet us with the trailer.
We worked together for a few minutes while Richard got the hang of it. He was still nervous in the saddle, but he’d picked up more information than I’d given him credit for, and I was surprised to see just how much he seemed to enjoy it.
“Just stay abreast of her like that and let Birdie worry about bringing up the rear,” I told him. “The heifer will stay between us until we can get her into the pasture with the others.”
It was obvious he was focused on the task at hand, not allowing himself to get distracted or sidetracked. He was patient and calm, treating the entire process with respect.
If anything, I was the one getting distracted. I couldn’t stop my eyes from straying to him, mesmerized as I watched him work. He still wore that ridiculous sequined hat that glinted something awful in the sun, but somehow, all that sparkle suited him. It couldn’t compete with his smile, however. His skin had tanned a little more, and despite his array of expensive specialty creams, his face had taken on a slightly weathered patina, making his eyes and teeth shine that much brighter.
He noticed me staring, and his smile faltered. “What am I doing wrong?”
The question bothered me, and it took me a moment to understand why: it was the assumption that he’d screwed up. As if he simply expected to fail and figured everyone else in his life expected that as well.
Hadn’t that been exactly why Oscar had sent him to the Silver Fork in the first place? Oscar hadn’t believed Richard would last one week, much less an entire month.
He’d set him up to fail. To teach him a lesson.
And I’d been complicit. I’d taken one look at Richard with his overpriced clothes and ridiculous luggage, and I’d written him off.
“You can tell me,” Richard pressed when I didn’t immediately answer him. “I’m used to screwing up. Trust me. But I can do better.”
My mind replayed the scene of Richard’s second night on the ranch, when I’d helped him to bed and he’d promised me in his sleepy voice that he would try harder. It made my chest ache.
I wondered if anyone had ever truly believed in Richard. If anyone had really given him a chance.
“No,” I told him sincerely. “You’re doing everything just right.”
Twin spots of color lit his cheeks, and his mouth broke into a wide grin. He beamed the entire rest of the way as we herded the heifer safely into the pasture and closed the gate.
“That was kind of exhilarating,” he said, eyes shining and cheeks flushed.
“You’re a bona fide cowboy now, McQueen,” I said, shooting him a wink.
He puffed his chest out. “I herded cattle out on the range. You can’t argue with that.” He then broke into a rendition of “Home on the Range,” belting the song out like he was a star on Broadway.
