Page 20 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

Dalton

I’d done everything I could to keep my fear under wraps on that trail ride, but I’d failed. Buddy had been antsy—I didn’t know any other way to describe it—as soon as we’d gotten out of sight of the barn and gone over the hill to the west of the ranch.

I tried not to pull on the reins. Tried to sit like the others were sitting, those kids who’d come from the city and were having a good time, calling to each other. Laughing out loud. They weren’t hanging on for their very lives. They were enjoying the experience.

Cameron rode up beside me. He squinted in the bright sunshine because he’d not brought his hat. Only Colt and I were wearing hats, and mine was borrowed.

I was grateful for the loan, but even as I rode off, I wondered if Jake ever smiled. His expression as he’d plopped his cowboy hat on my head was a glare, as if he’d judged me and found me wanting. Those sharp gold-and-green eyes watched me ride off, maybe with the hope that I’d never come back to disgrace the air that he breathed.

Once over the hill, the horses had gone from being bunched up to a single-file line, with Colt in the lead on a copper-penny-red horse and me in the back, not sure whether I should let Buddy jump to the front as he wanted to do or if I had the guts to turn around then and there.

We were about an hour out when I saw the mountain lion. At first, I’d thought it was an illusion, some trick of my eyes. The animal, sand-colored and lean, was weaving in and out of the trees, and whether it was just curious or actually stalking us, I did not know.

I sure as hell wished I’d refused to go on the ride. That I’d said no to Lucas, to everyone, and gotten in my car and driven back to Denver.

It got worse when I pointed the mountain lion out to the rider nearest me, because the word spread and everyone was on edge. Colt didn’t have a rifle or anything, so we needed to get back.

“A fast walk only, folks,” he said, gesturing that we should turn and head home. “Any faster than that, and it’ll think we’re something it needs to chase.”

We lasted to the hill, trotting, and then Buddy had enough and took off. Took off and shook his head, nearly unseating me, and the left rein went flying.

It was all I could do to stay in the saddle as Buddy raced over the hill,downthe hill, and there, of course, the cowboy who intensely disliked me was waiting. Hatless in the bright sunshine, arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he’d been pacing.

At the sight of him, maybe, Buddy jerked his whole body, and off I flew, to land almost at Jake’s feet. My whole spine felt the impact, and there I lay, looking up as he came close. Close enough to feel, like a blow. Like he’d just crossed the threshold to somewhere inside me.

He was very tall.

He knelt down and touched my neck, and he stayed very calm as he checked me over and asked me what had happened.I hesitated before answering, thinking he’d dismiss my fears. Dismiss me as someone unworthy of worry. But as he helped me sit up, my head was pounding, and I slipped, defenseless, into his arms. His body offered shadow, a place to hide and catch my breath.

He didn’t push me away. I didn’t understand why. Or why he touched my face with the edge of his pinky, so gently.

My vision was fine, but the sun was so bright that I let him help me into the barn. There, after some deft and intimate first aid, I faced the further torture of going down a line of dancing hooves and swishy tails attached to powerful hindquarters.

Jake, of course, strode forth like he was walking in a bed of flowers. And he dragged me with him.

I lasted through grooming Buddy and feeding biscuits to each horse I could find, to make amends. For what, I didn’t know. For being a bad rider. For being afraid of each and every one of them. For disappointing Jake, of all people, who would surely speak derisively of me when alone with his fellow cowboys.

Though why I cared what he thought was beyond me.

He’d described himself as an average blue-collar man. Who obviously didn’t have time for scaredy-cat bankers from the city.

Sure, he’d taken time to patch me up, but no sympathy had been forthcoming. I needed to get over the empty feeling that thought gave me. I needed to give Lucas back his secondhand boots, and I needed to take some Tylenol and drive home, even though everything hurt.

I made it to the bunkhouse, fumbling with the combination before bursting inside.

The air was hot and still. I turned on the AC split and went into the small bathroom. The bruise beneath the two parallel—exactly parallel—butterfly bandages was a well-blossomed flower of dark purple, dark blue.

I didn’t remember bumping my head. My pupils weren’t dilated, which meant, hopefully, that I didn’t have a concussion. I had gotten lucky.

I took two Tylenol, then two more, because who cared what the proper dosage was. I needed to get home and leave stupid cowboy country behind me.

The Tylenol had to kick in, because if it didn’t, Jake had instructed me to tell him so he could carry me to urgent care. Riding alone in a truck cab with him was the last thing I needed. He’d be grim and ask me,Why didn’t you just say no? Say no like a man?

I lay on the twin bed to wait for the drugs to take effect. And thought about how pretty the sky had been. So blue against the velvet green of the pine trees and the shiny green leaves of the row of cottonwoods by the river.

Or maybe it was a creek. Yes, Snow Creek. Lucas had told me about it. About fly-fishing with his granddad and swimming with horses in the deep pools.

Any pleasure in the ride had been erased by the mad, fearful dash back to the barn. I didn’t belong here. Certainly, Jake would prefer me gone. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe slowly. Mapped the route home in my mind. Did my best to let the painkillers do their thing.