Page 65 of Any Cowboy of Mine
Sophie wasn’t sure what “it” was, exactly, but she nodded. Penske sank to the ground at Sophie’s feet, content. He rested his chin on her shoes, and Sophie bent down to pat him.
“Walk with me.” The Marge Sophie had briefly come to know—the domineering, controlling one—was back, but Sophie got up anyway, bracing herself against the cold. The Connors’s farm was exposed on the north side of the hill where their home stood, where the sun barely hit during the dark winter months, and a rolling wind crept underneath Sophie’s thick, wool coat. Penske’s head raised, and he slowly got up, clearly not pleased that he was being asked to move after just settling in.
Sophie shivered, and Marge moved closer to her so that their arms were touching. Penske followed along behind them, tucked in behind Sophie.
“We’ve been lucky this is a mild winter,” Marge said. “Though it will mean another dry spring, and that could be bad for the cows.”
Sophie didn’t know much about farming, or what Brad’s family raised on their property.
“Do you just raise, um, cows?” she asked. Damn, she felt out of her element here in this place, with this woman. She patted the dog on his head when he strode alongside her.
“No, actually, we raise the cows for the dairy, and we have some smaller crops as well. Did Brad tell you we’re selling next year?”
“He didn’t,” Sophie said, and in the pit of her chest, a small voice cried out how little she knew this man she claimed to love, or where he’d come from. She thought Brad was more serious about making an offer. Granted they’d only been reacquainted for a week, and together an afternoon at that. She hoped they would have the time to learn all there was to know about each other.
“We want to retire to the city, make some memories that don’t start at dawn. Alan and I thought Brad or Paige would want to take over someday, keep the farm in the family, but Paige always had wider, fuller dreams. Plus, she’s got her hands busy with the farm next door. Brad, well, he’s taken a while to come into his own, but this farm would be too stifling for him, too, what with his writing career and all that, I guess. So, we sell. Just shy of three decades, and this will be the first time someone other than a Connors will work this land.” The wistful way she spoke showed Sophie that Marge didn’t know much about her son, either. At least not where he stood at the moment. She guessed the woman was so blinded with rage at what had transpired with Julia that she hadn’t talked to her son beyond the usual parental pleasantries in months. What a shame this tragic misunderstanding was about to keep everyone from getting what they wanted.
“Have you asked Brad what he wants?” Sophie asked. She felt Marge’s heated glance penetrating her cold cheek but kept her gaze forward.
“I haven’t.” Marge stopped walking, and finally, Sophie turned to face her. Penske looked up at them, his head tilted, his tongue out, clearly expecting a treat for walking so well. Marge procured a small biscuit from her jacket and sat it on Penske’s nose. She snapped her fingers, and he tossed it into the air and caught it before it hit the cold ground. Sophie laughed, impressed. It was seamless, their routine, and showed a side to Marge Sophie hadn’t thought existed.
“He loves it out here,” Sophie said. “He’s talked so much about his memories from growing up here, and I know the farm plays heavily in the setting for his series. He’s also mentioned what he would do if he were to be the one to run it, and it isn’t half bad. You should see what he thinks. You might be surprised.”
“Perhaps. I will say he’s surprised me quite a bit lately. Do you know what happened between him and Julia?”
Sophie shivered, not because of the chill, but at the abrupt transition in conversation. She spoke delicately, like Julia was somewhere nearby, listening in. Penske, however, growled at her name. Sophie rubbed the dog’s ears affectionately and gave him a private wink.
“Good dog,” she whispered.
“I do. All of it, actually.” Sophie stood her ground, her arms crossed across her chest in defense of Brad and what he had gone through.
“You’re lucky, I guess. I didn’t know until today. The cheating I was alerted to last year by Paige, but I didn’t want to believe it. Julia was like another daughter to us. But the injunction on Brad’s series? It’s unconscionable. He’s worked so hard for so long to get here, and now it could all be taken from him. It breaks my heart that this has been what he’s been going through, that I didn’t know.”
Marge looked out across the landscape, and Sophie wondered what she saw. Did she see the hills, the way they rolled and ebbed all the way to the door of the farm, the world she and her husband had built? Or did she see her children, young again and playing tag in the tall grasses in the spring, dodging each other and the responsibility that plagued their parents? Did Marge see the farm she and her husband had dedicated their lives to, worry about what it would become in someone else’s hands?
“I thought you did. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault, actually. You didn’t know. I didn’t listen, and I almost lost my son because of it.” Marge turned to face her, her shoulders back and head held high. Though her life had dealt her some hardships, Marge’s strength was indeed formidable.
“How didn’t you know before? At least about Julia and her infidelity. I thought the whole town knew about her.”
“They did, and do, apparently. Like I said, I thought I knew, but didn’t want to believe it. Did Brad also tell you about my falling out with her mother?”
“Yep, and if I can offer my opinion, that woman isn’t worth her weight in salt if she’ll let a friendship go to hell because the kids broke up.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t think of it in exactly that way, nor would I choose to use the same words,” Marge said, and Sophie swore a twitch of a smile formed in the corner of her mouth, “but I know what you’re saying. I agree that some of what Betsy said to this family during the breakup was unforgivable at best. It’s shed some light on the whole family, and not a flattering one at that.”
“Besides, she raised a daughter who could do what she did to your son and still have the nerve to ask him back at her wedding? That’s some shady stuff.”
“She asked him back? He didn’t... he didn’t tell me that part.” Marge rubbed at her cheek, her eyebrows pulled into each other like they were attached to magnets. Sophie didn’t relish catching Marge off guard, but her reaction was genuine. She really didn’t have a clue what her son had endured the past year. It made Sophie’s gut twist in agony for Marge. All of a sudden the wool was pulled from over her eyes, and nothing in her world was the same. It had to be disorienting.
“Before the wedding, then obsessively afterward the next morning. Meaning she was willing to cheat on her new husband. It’s why I asked if you’d seen Brad—I found the note from her.”
“Well, I don’t give a lick about that idiot, Chris. I never cared for him much,” Marge said, contempt lacing her words. Sophie let out a little giggle. “But that woman. Ooh, I could strangle her for putting Brad through that. I can’t believe I allowed you to think he was capable of cheating with a married woman, especially like her. I just wanted you to be jealous enough to leave him alone. Even that I don’t understand looking back on it. If I didn’t have very vivid memories of that morning, and the few since, I would have sworn it wasn’t me you talked to. I’m so very sorry.”
Sophie’s heart warmed toward the woman for the first time.
“You and me both, Marge. But the point is, that whole family is wacko, and you’re good to be rid of them, in my humble opinion,” she said, bringing the conversation back to Julia’s family.
