Page 26 of Wrangling Her Heart
Tillie looked at his face and was met with a stern, unflinching expression. His eyes were hard, a wall built to defend against any emotional intruders. His lips were drawn in a thin, firm line. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat rising as she looked at the face of the man she was falling in love with.
Not trusting herself to speak without revealing too much, she simply nodded quietly and grabbed on to the mane and saddle horn. Her eyes burned with hot tears as she slipped her foot into the stirrup. As she attempted to lift herself onto the horse, her legs felt weak and shaky from the confrontation and her heart pounded in her chest. She felt Rex’s hands circle around her waist, his warm breath tickling her ear as he moved closer. Lifting her up, as if she weighed nothing, he gently set her on the saddle and stepped back.
“Move forward,” he directed, waving with two fingers. She scooted as much as she could. He untied the reins and easily swung behind her, his warmth enveloping her.
She shivered as his arm wrapped around her waist to guide the horse from town.The closeness was too much, she thought, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. For a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of closing her eyes and resting against him. His chest was a firm cushion behind her back, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear.
“Hold on to the saddle horn and lean back into me,” he instructed, his voice a low rumble close to her ear.
She complied, her hand trembling as she held onto the saddle. The smell of leather, horse and hay filled her senses. It was distinctly Rex.
What was happening between them?
She wished she knew.
His horse moved with a gentle grace underneath them, the rhythm of its steps soothing. The crisp wind blew against their faces as the sun faded in the distance. Tillie wrapped her hands around Rex’s forearms, holding on to him for support as they navigated through the grassy meadows back to the ranch. The warmth of his body against her back was a comfort she hadn’t known she needed, but now didn’t want to be without.
Rex was silent behind her, his muscular arm a constant presence around her waist.
The silence stretched between them like an elastic band, strained and uncomfortable. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Rex,” she whispered, turning slightly and reaching out to touch his cheek.
He flinched away, his voice breaking as he spoke. “Tillie, don’t. I can’t right now.”
Her heart crushed under his words. She pulled her hand back and stuttered out an apology. “I’m... I’m sorry, Rex.” The distance between them felt like a gorge. Yet, she had neverphysically been closer to him than she was right now.
She could hear the tightness in his voice as he navigated the horse through the meadows, guiding them towards home. “Just hold on to the saddle,” he repeated, his tone devoid of any warmth or affection.
She turned back to face forward. Her hands released his arm and tightened around the saddle horn, fingernails scraping against the hard leather grip. The journey back to the ranch felt painfully long, with strained silence filling the air. As they arrived, she slipped off the horse without a word, refusing to meet his gaze. The front porch was lit with a warm glow from within, laughter and cheerful voices carried outside.
She hesitated on the steps. She didn’t want to go inside and put on a brave face, but she couldn’t stand out here with Rex, either. He was too close and too far away all at once. Ignoring the weight of his gaze, she limped towards the door, her head held high. Behind her, he remained silent, the only sound being the horse’s labored breaths and then rhythmic beat of hooves as the horse and rider made their way towards the barn.
Chapter Ten
The rooster from one of the neighboring farms woke Rex just as the sun peeked over the horizon. He emerged from the hayloft and joined the cowhands at the makeshift breakfast table.
Hot coffee brewed in a soot-stained pot, tin plates were heaped with cornbread, and a fire snapped and popped in the pit. Men with greasy fingers and weather-beaten faces sat drinking coffee from bent enamel cups. They talked in low voices about the news from the surrounding ranches.
“Morning, boss.” Hank Denton, an elder hand with a grizzled chin and deep wrinkles around his eyes, spat into the dirt before moving over to offer Rex a seat on the bench. A chorus of muffled greetings joined in the air from the five men seated around the table.
“Morning.” Rex wiped away the sleep from his eyes. “Pass the coffee?”
Someone placed a steaming mug in front of him, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled his nose. He took a tentative sip, trying not to grimace at the bold, bitter taste on his tongue. He could feel the gritty grounds slipping between his teeth as he swallowed.
“Goody made the coffee this morning,” one man piped up.
“That explains it then,” Rex laughed, taking another tentative sip, trying to ignore the gritty texture of the coffee grounds on his tongue.
“Hey boss,” Soapy Schmit piped up. He received his nickname because the men were sure he only bathed once a year. “Heard that the Picketts lost a dozen cows and two horses.”
The news hit Rex with a weighty thud. “Really?” The Picketts were three ranches over, a hefty ride even on a fast horse. They were good people, hardworking and honest. “Disease or rustlers?”
“Rustlers,” Hank said, spitting another wad of tobacco into the dirt. “Nate Pickett caught ‘em red-handed but couldn’t do anything. He’s just a kid.”
A murmur of dissent rolled around the table as Rex’s mind raced. “Any idea who they were?”
“Naw,” Soapy shrugged, shoveling in a spoonful of scrambled eggs. “But it ain’t the first time this month.”
“Funny enough,” Goody said, placing a plate filled with eggs, beans, and a few slices of burned bacon in front of Rex, “Nate thought one man looked like Whit.”
