Page 13 of The Roper & the Author

“Sure.” His slow grin came. He released the handles of his cable pulley thing and came over to her. Resting his large palm on her upper back, he said, “Contract these muscles and align your head with your spine.”

She tried to contract the muscles he was touching, but her body trembled from his warm touch and she felt weak with longing for him.

“Are you too tired?” he asked with concern.

“I’m sure I’ll feel it in the morning, but I’m not too tired right now.” Even weak with longing, she was invigorated and inspired by him. Could she say that? Usually she said whatever she wanted, but she didn’t want to be too forward and push him away.

“You just trembled,” he told her, his blue eyes like a work of art. She’d never dabbled in painting. She needed to learn.

“Because you touched me,” she said softly.

His blue eyes became intense and stirred her soul with longing.

“How’s it going?” Easton called, standing from an angled bench he’d been propped on with his stomach as he did some kind of back exercise.

“Fabulosa. I’ll be tough as you two soon,” Marci said, flexing her tiny arm muscle.

“For sure,” Easton said.

They all went back to their workouts. Maybe half an hour later, her arms were quivering and her upper back muscles were already sore. It was very different from the tense soreness in her upper back and shoulders when she typed for too many hours. She rather liked this new soreness.

“The sun will be up soon,” Walker said. “Would you like to go on a run and greet the sun rising over the mountains?”’

“Oy!” she exclaimed. “Thank you! Thank you! I gawked at your glorious mountains yesterday as Aiden drove me here. I want to see more of them, much more, get up close and personal, smell the damp forest floor and pine needles, feel the agony of climbing to the mountain peak then exult in the magnificent view. Can we hike and touch the mountains?”

Walker smiled at her.

“Maybe,” Easton said evasively.

“Oh, I forgot for a minute. I’m in danger and Abuelita’s in worse danger.” All the anxiety for Abuelita rushed back in. Was it awful of her to forget? Abuelita would encourage her not to worry about the ‘vieja ancha’ or old broad as she called herself in her joking too-literal translation, especially if she saw her with the likes of Walker Coleville.

Marci turned toward the entrance that led into the main part of the barn to hide her embarrassment at not thinking of Abuelita more. She’d already lost the rest of her family, and sheand Abuelita were all each other had. She should be a basket case right now.

Walker touched her elbow, and all worries fled.

“There’s a back entrance,” he said, directing her to it.

Easton sprang in front of her and got the door.

“Abuelita is going to be okay,” Walker said quietly.

She stopped walking and glanced up at him.

“Aiden Porter is incredible,” he said, “and if she’s half as amazing as the woman she raised, she’ll be able to hold on until Aiden and his crew get her out.”

“Gracias.” She appreciated the reassurance and the compliment. He knew what she feared and what she needed, and he was right. If anyone could save Abuelita, it was the famed Aiden Porter.

He nodded to her, and they walked out into the crisp morning air. It didn’t feel quite as cold since she’d worked up a bit of a sweat lifting all those weights. The smell of pine trees and fresh air permeated the morning.

“We could plan a hike,” Walker said, gesturing toward the mountains with his head.

She was torn from her gawking at Walker to viewing the magnitude of those soaring peaks.

They walked toward the trail in the thick trees.

“After I get back from Amarillo,” Walker continued.

“Amarillo,” she said despondently. There were songs about the Texas town, and she knew his roping was important, probably as much a part of him as her writing was for her, but why did he have to leave her? Weren’t there rodeos every weekend in different spots?

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