From the Boots Up (10 page)

Meg started to reply, remembered her conversation
with Alice earlier that day, and stopped herself. Too close to flirting and she
definitely did not want to get carried away. Marjorie broke in, fortunately.

“What’s the next story you’ll be working on?”

“Not sure. I have a few ideas, but my editor has a
few, too, so we’ll see what happens.”

“Are you an investigative journalist, then?”

“I like to think so. But I also do reporting, too, on
local events.”

“So exciting,” Marjorie said, a little wistful. “I
flirted with journalism back in my college days, but my path went in a
different direction.”

Gina gave her arm a squeeze, and Meg felt a little
pang of envy. “You’re a talented artist,” Gina said. “And as long as it makes
you happy, keep doing it. That’s ultimately what it’s all about.”

“True. What makes you happy, Meg?” Marjorie turned to
her, catching her off guard.

“Um.” She stared into the fire. “Wyoming. Ranching.
Studying to be a vet. And meeting people like you.” She directed her attention
to Marjorie. “And you,” she added, looking at Gina.

“Oh, my.” Marjorie put her left arm around Meg’s
shoulders and gave her a half-hug. “I have had the best time this week. Coming
here was exactly what I needed.”

“Same here,” Gina said softy, another smile dancing at
the corners of her mouth.

“Well, I’m going to chit-chat with a few others. I’ll
see you girls tomorrow.”

“’Night, Marjie,” Meg said.

“See you later,” Gina added. She moved a little
closer, and Meg silently rejoiced. “I heard a rumor.”

“About what?”

“Your birthday.”

“Oh, yeah. That.” Meg shrugged. Friday, and the day
Gina was leaving. Didn’t seem like such a great day.

“Where I come from, birthdays are a big deal.”

“California? Or Italy?”

“Both. My grandmother would stuff you so full of
Italian cooking that you’d barely be able to move. Then we’d have to set off
firecrackers, have a dance party, and maybe sing a bit. Huge deal.”

“What, no snipe hunt?”

Gina laughed, and again Meg wanted to somehow capture
the sound and carry it around so she could listen to it whenever she wanted. “I
could totally instigate that,” she said. “So what do you have planned?”

“Not sure. Alice will make a cake to go with dinner.
A few of us might go to town and catch some music at the River Rest.”

“Well, if my schedule works out, I’ll try to make it.
I’m on deadline,” she finished, apologetic.

Meg caught her gaze, and she wanted to say something
in response like “that’s really nice of you” or “oh, cool” or even “thanks” but
she couldn’t, because the warmth in Gina’s eyes and the little hint of mystery
and mischief that lingered on her smile took any words she had and tossed them
onto the night breeze.

“Hey,” Davey said to her. He greeted Gina with a
formal “Miss Morelli.”

Meg looked up at him. He blocked her view of the
fire, which irritated her.

“You clear to do a trail ride tomorrow morning with
Mark?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Thanks.” He gave Gina a look and moved away, to the
other side of the fire, where he sat near Jackson. Meg watched him for a few
moments, and caught him looking her way twice, but he looked away both times.
He was still pissed, it seemed, about what she’d said to him. Whatever. Wasn’t
her problem. She gladly turned her attention back to Gina, and they chatted a
bit more for another half-hour or so before Gina excused herself to go do some
writing.

“Catch you tomorrow,” she said as she stood.

“Yep. Watch out for snipe,” Meg said. “They can get
ornery around here.”

Gina laughed again and the sound trailed after her as
she left.

Meg got up, too, so she could do the social thing and
talk to some of the guests and her dad. She glanced over toward Davey, and
caught him looking at her again, with what might have been a glare. She sighed.
She’d probably have to talk to him yet again. But not tonight. She was still
holding on to the glow of spending a little more time with Gina.

M
eg hummed
as she cinched Rusty’s saddle
and checked his bridle. All good. She led him the few yards to the paddock
fence and quick-tied his reins to it before she returned to the stable to
retrieve a saddle for the last horse she and Mark needed to prepare for the
ride. She stepped inside and nearly ran into Gina, who was talking to Mark. She
held a saddle, and a blanket lay across it. She was also wearing a well-used
tan cowboy hat.

“Morning,” she said to Meg.

“Hey,” she answered, looking first at Mark then at
the saddle Gina held, then at her hat, and there was nothing she wanted to do
more than pull her into a kiss. She envisioned herself leaning over the saddle,
putting her hand on the back of Gina’s neck, and just—

“I asked Mark if I could ride Daisy today. Is that
cool with you, too?”

“Um.” She snapped out of her daydream and cleared her
throat. “Sure. I was just going to saddle her.” She stepped forward, hands out.

“I’ve got it,” Gina said with a little grin. “Can you
grab her bridle, though?”

“Okay.”

Mark took it off its hook and handed it to her. “I’ll
get some folks mounted up.”

She took the bridle. “Thanks.” Before she could say
anything else, Gina walked past her out into the pen. Meg followed, thinking
that maybe Mark had shown her how to saddle a horse.

Gina settled the blanket and saddle onto Daisy’s back
like a pro, and quickly got her cinched and adjusted properly.

“Bridle?”

Meg handed it to her, and watched with appreciation
and surprise as she inserted the bit expertly into Daisy’s mouth and slid the
headpiece over Daisy’s ears. She checked the straps, and made sure the
noseband, cheek pieces and throat lash fit properly.

“How did I do?” she asked, a little glint in her
eyes.

“Well, hell. This ain’t your first rodeo.”

“My grandfather owns a farm outside Sacramento. He’s
got a few horses.” She smiled and put her left foot in the stirrup and swung
gracefully into the saddle.

“You didn’t say anything about that,” Meg said,
glancing at Gina’s well-worn and well-cared for black roper boots. They added
an exclamation point to her earlier thought about kissing her.

“You didn’t ask.” She gave her another little smile.

Meg pushed the brim of her hat back and looked up at
her. “And here I was just going to show you how to saddle Daisy, thinking
you’re all city slicker, but no.” She laughed.

“At which point I would’ve told you about my
nonno
’s farm.”

“Good to know that you wouldn’t have let me deliver
my saddle instruction.”

“I’m sure it’s excellent.” She regarded her, a
teasing little sparkle in her eyes. She rested her hands on the saddle horn,
reins between the thumb and index finger of her left hand.

“Well, too bad. You won’t find out for sure.”

“I could pretend to be a city slicker damsel in
distress so you can feel you’ve done your proper training protocol.”

Meg shook her head. “Nah.”

“I figured.”

“Figured what?”

“That you’re not the damsel in distress type.”

“Oh? So what type am I?”

Gina pretended to size her up. “I’m guessing leather
and latigo.”

Though she didn’t know how she managed, she kept her
voice steady. “Huh. So what type are you?”

She smiled and clicked her tongue as she urged Daisy
into a walk, toward the group of other riders. She looked back over her
shoulder at Meg. “I think you know,” she said, and Meg stared after her.

A little flirting was okay, she tried to convince
herself. Neither of them had said anything improper or unprofessional. But damn,
the delivery left her weak in the knees. She went to retrieve Rusty so she
could help Mark get everybody settled, though most likely, everyone on this
ride had ridden at least once during the past week.

Meg let Mark take the lead in explaining the basics
for the ride. If he needed her input, he’d ask. She swung into Rusty’s saddle
and backed him up a few paces, giving everyone else room to follow Mark. Gina
caught her eye and she granted her another one of her damn smiles before she
took a position in the middle of the group. An attraction, Alice had called it.
Attractions had to be worse than crushes, because she practically burned every
time she looked at Gina. Or thought about her.

She steered Rusty up the path into the National
Forest, listening to Mark joke with Jerry, one of the guests. He looked to be
in his forties. He wore hikers with his jeans instead of boots, and Meg actually
appreciated that he wasn’t trying to pretend to be something he wasn’t.
Sometimes people showed up decked out in brand new western wear that came from
some kind of designer store, and they then attempted to play cowboy. Or
cowgirl. Fortunately, that didn’t happen very often. Her diplomacy was severely
tested with guests like that.

She watched Gina ride, and she knew that she’d been
accurately pegged. Meg liked confident, competent women who didn’t mind getting
their jeans a little dirty, changing their own tires, or saddling their own
horses. And she liked a woman who took time to appreciate stars, a fireside
gathering, and a morning horseback ride. And she had a feeling that Gina
appreciated that, too. Did she maybe appreciate those things about Meg? Or was
she just one of those types of people who said things to get a reaction, and
who didn’t really mean anything by the comments they made or the way they said
them? She’d dated a woman like that a few years back, and it bugged her, though
the sex had been good. She probably should have just stopped that relationship
at the sex and not tried to make something out of it that it wasn’t.

Better stop thinking about sex.

Right now.

She eased Rusty forward to check on the others, eight
total, then dropped to the back where she could keep an eye on slower riders.
Gina had ridden ahead and was chatting with Mark again. Probably gathering more
information for the story. The trail took them up into aspen, leaves rustling
in the breeze, their light undersides flashing and dancing in the sunlight.
Underbrush clogged the forest floor, and the horses picked their way carefully
over the trail, single-file.

“Hey, hold up, folks,” Mark called from the front of
the column, slowing his horse in a stand of aspen.

Meg looked up and the other riders watched him,
expectant.

“I have an announcement to make. Tomorrow is our very
own Meg’s birthday.”

Oh, shit. Meg smiled, embarrassed, as claps and
whistles greeted this news.

“So if any of you would like to ring in Meg’s new
year in style, we’ll be taking her dancin’ and carousin’ in Saratoga tomorrow
night after supper. Just meet up at the motel and we’ll designate some drivers.
Spread the word. We’ll be going to the River Rest. Can’t miss it. Saratoga’s
not that big. But ask if you’d like directions.”

“How old are you now?” asked Jerry.

“Sixteen. But don’t tell anyone at the bar,” Mark
answered for her.

Meg groaned good-naturedly. “Thanks, everyone. I
appreciate it.” To Jerry, she said, “I’ll be twenty-five.”

“Oh, that was a good year for me,” he said. “Hope
yours starts out the way you want.”

She caught Gina’s gaze. “Me, too.” She jerked her
attention back to him and smiled.

“And now back to our regularly scheduled ride.” Mark
wheeled his horse back to the lead.

Gina left the line and brought Daisy in next to Meg.
“I’ll see you there,” she said. “Save some party for me.” She grinned and went
back to her place in the column, leaving Meg both aching and dreading tomorrow
night. Aching because she’d see Gina but dreading because that would definitely
mark the end of her stay. Unless she was planning to extend a night. She might
want to check on that, she thought, as she settled into the rhythm of hooves
thudding against the hard-packed earth of the trail, and the peppery smell of
aspen bark that trailed after them.

Seven

M
eg checked
the guest register later that
afternoon, but Gina hadn’t extended a night. She was still slated to check out
tomorrow. Maybe she’d stay in town, then, if she really did plan to show up at
the River Rest.

“Hi, hon,” Stan said as he entered.

She hurriedly clicked out of the register. “Just
wanting to see how many we’ve got coming in.”

“Not quite a full house, but we might get some
latecomers for the weekend.” He placed a stack of mail on his desk. “I need you
to make a run to Laramie and then the feed store tomorrow morning. We’ve got
enough folks to get guests settled. But you’re off tomorrow after dinner and
Saturday. Birthday celebration and all.” He gave her a wink. “Be safe.”

“Yes, dad,” she said in her best imitation of a
teenager. She got up from the chair. “Are you going to come?”

“For a little bit. I’m kinda old these days. Need my
beauty rest.”

She punched him lightly on the arm. “Poor Dutchie.”

He smiled and handed her a couple of envelopes.
“Could you take these to Alice?”

“Yep. And thanks for Saturday.”

He nodded. “You work hard, hon. You always have.” He
paused, like he was trying to figure out what to say next. “You’re the best
damn daughter a man could hope to have.”

She stared at him.

“And I’m real proud of you. How well you do at
school, how much you help around here. Hell, there are days I don’t know how I
get through without you.”

“Dad? Everything okay?” she asked, half-joking.

“Just some stuff on my mind I wanted to tell you.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She gave him a hug, thinking that
things seemed comfortable again between them, like before she’d told him she
was gay. See you at dinner.” She stepped toward the door.