The Lady and the Cowboy (5 page)

“Well?” Sam asked.

“She beat you by a length,” the hand told him, breaking into a grin.

Ruth smiled and patted Angel’s neck. “Good
boy.”

She expected Sam to be angry but when she risked a glance at him, he was smiling.

“That is an exceptional horse you’ve got there,” he said.

“Thank you.” Ruth blushed, unused to praise from him.

Sam had ridden his fastest thoroughbred and still Ruth had beaten him, even in a silly (if fetching) outfit and riding side saddle. He wondered how much faster Angel could go if she hadn’t worn those things. Sam would be willing to bet that Angel could be a race winner.

This horse could put him on the map, breeding wise. All that silly stuff
that Ruth had done in the paddock was unnecessary, for this horse’s talent lay in his speed, not his performance.

Somehow though
, he didn’t see Ruth taking kindly to that idea. She hadn’t even liked him rubbing Angel down, so she certainly wouldn’t agree to him entering Angel into a race.

“Let’s leave the others to it,” Sam suggested. “
Mamma will want to know about your victory.”

She nodded her agreement and they walked back towards the ranch.
Now that they weren’t performing or racing, she kept a loose hold on the horse’s reins, giving Angel his freedom.

Ruth felt better than she had since coming to
this Godforsaken county and suddenly, the odds against her didn’t seem so insurmountable. Even the scenery had taken on a new air, seeming majestic rather than barren, impressive rather than dry and imposing rather than dirty.

The house was in sight now and Sam slowed his pace, causing Ruth to do the same. They may not have spoken so far but it was impolite to ride ahead.

“So where’d you learn to ride like that?” Sam asked, trying to make conversation.

In her elation, Ruth forgot to be afraid of him.

“I’ve ridden since I was a girl. Father put me in the saddle before I could walk, he said.”

“He a horse man?”

“Oh no. He loved horses, thought them proud creatures but he was a self-made man, he didn’t have the time to learn to ride and by the time he did, he felt that he was too old. He lived vicariously through his children instead, but I was the only one who really loved horses, so he indulged me.”

“Is it true that you schooled Angel?”

“I did. He bought Angel for me when he was just a year old, but I didn’t start breaking him in until he was two.”

“You must have been very experienced.”

“I was by then. I was twenty when we got him.”

“So how old is
he now?”

“
Five.”

Making
Ruth 24, he surmised.

“So, I was thinking about how I’ve treated you since you came and I want to apologise.”

She turned to look at him, shocked.

“Your husband and I didn’t exactly get on and I thought that you might be like him.
I’m sorry.”

“Then I accept,” she answered, a
fter all, it was churlish to refuse an apology.

“Good. And you know, if you really do want to help out around here, another pair of hands is always welcome, but you’d have to learn to ride astride.”

“I… I can’t do that,” she admitted, although it pained her to do so.

“Sure you can, lots of other women in these parts do.”

“A lady doesn’t ride astride.”

“Ruth, you’re no lady over here; Texans don’t put much stock in class or breeding, unless
it’s breeding horses.”

“But-“

“All right, fine, be a coward, see if I care,” he trotted on ahead.

“I am not a coward,” she said, catching up to him. “I simply have standards, that’s all!”

“Standards don’t count for much here either. But it’s fine, you stay with Mamma all day, wash and sew and clean, it’s no skin off my nose.”

Reminding her of
the jobs she hated (aside from sewing) had the desired effect.

“
Very well.”

“Great. Maybe you can alter an old pair of Pa’s trousers when we get home.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she assured him.

“Giving up already?” he ask
ed smirking at her again.

“I’m n
ot giving up on anything.” She stopped her horse outside the house and dismounted, then handed the reins to Sam. “Would you hold him for a moment?”

Sam nodded and watched as she went up on to the porch. He expected her to go inside but she didn’t. She began unbuttoning her jacket, then left it over the porch railing a
s she untied her neck scarf. She removed the hat and began taking the pins from her hair, tying it back again with her the scarf. Next she unbuttoned her skirt and pulled it down. Sam tried to avert his eyes but curiosity got the better of him.

Beneath the skirt, she had on dark blue
chamois breeches! They were so form fitting that he almost felt bad for pressuring her to this. Finally, she tucked her white shirt into the breeches, which gave him a lovely view of her posterior, and headed back to Sam, taking the reins from him.

“You go into one of the paddocks,
” Ruth told him. “We’ll join you when I’ve changed his saddle.”

Sam nodded, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as he realised that she wasn’t wearing a corset, just a blouse and a chemise. Even through two layers of white material, he could see the swell of her breasts. He’d have to get her
a dark coloured shirt, he decided. Maybe his mother could do something with one of his old shirts.

Ruth headed towards the tack room and Sam stayed where he was, staring dumbly after her.

***

Ruth secured Angel outside the tack room, removed his saddle and changed it for the English saddle that Joe used when riding her. She was unaware of Sam watching her as she secured the girth and measured the stirrups.

Because she hadn’t mounted like this in many years, she lined Angel up parallel to the tack room step before she put her foot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle, although it took her three attempts.

Once seated she began to have doubts. If she had found it that difficult to get into the saddle, what if she made a fool of herself? What if she fell? Plus, the other ranch hands would be back soon, to see her in all her tight fitting glory.

“Are you going to take all day?” she heard Sam call, which steeled her resolve once again.

She made her way to the
paddock where Sam was waiting for her. She rode a few laps of the paddock, at a walk, rising trot, sitting trot and canter to get used to riding astride.

“So w
hat now?” she asked when she was finished.

“I picked the last task, you pick this one
.”

Ruth thought for a moment then a wicked smile formed on her lips.

“Have you ever heard of lepping?”

“No,” he frowned. “What is it?”

“Jumping. Ever since landowners started putting up fences, riders who follow the hunt have needed to learn to jump obstacles.”

To prove her point, she set Angel to a canter and jumped the paddock fence.

Sam should have focused on her posture, her position and how the horse moved, but all he could look at was her behind, as she rose up from the saddle and leaned forward. She cantered a circle in the next paddock then headed back, clearing the three foot fence with ease.

“For someone who hasn’t ridden astride, you sure got it easily,” he griped, feeling uncomfortable about the idea of jumping the fence. He had needed to jump obstacles before, but it wasn’t so
mething that he was used to, nor had he practiced.

“I rode astride until I was seven, then mother insisted I ride side saddle. I didn’t expect it to come back so easily.”

She smiled as she spoke, clearly enjoying being in the saddle and some of his bad feeling evaporated, for she truly was beautiful when she smiled. Still, he had a fence to jump and he looked over at it.

“Rise up in the saddle and lean forward,” she advised.

He looked over at her and for a moment, she thought that he would snap at her for offering advice. Instead he simply nodded, rising as much as he could with the long western stirrups and took off for the fence. He cleared the fence, but the landing was rough and he had to grab the horn to keep himself seated. When he turned around he expected to see triumph on her face, for her attempt was far better than his but instead, she was smiling. He smiled back and took another run at the fence. Again the landing was far from perfect but he remained seated in the saddle.

“
It’s easier if you start with small jumps,” she said. “I think you did really well to clear that fence your first time.”

Sam accepted her praise with good grace. “So, what do you say we give
Angel a rest and see how you like the western saddle?”

Ruth nodded. “All right.”

***

Sam was a good teacher and explained what every part
of the saddle was. Whilst very similar in the basics, everything seemed to have a different name. The numnah under the saddle was a saddle blanket, for example, whilst the girth was a cinch, the saddle flap was a fender, and the skirt was in a completely different place.

He adjusted the stirrups, which were much larger and more complicated to alter than English stirrups, then he gave her a leg-up.

He had given her Beau, his own horse, meaning the only one on the ranch that he wouldn’t sell if the price was right because much like Ruth and Angel, he had an attachment to the horse that was worth more than money. Beau was also very well-schooled, meaning he was far less likely to try and throw Ruth than some of the younger horses.

Ruth fidgeted in the saddle for a while, getting used to the larger seat and longer stirrups.

“You got ants in your pants?” Sam teased.

“It’s just so unusual,” she answered, blushing and sitting stock still.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, feeling like an idiot, but they had been getting along so well, he almost forgot how easily she retreated into her shell.

When she didn’t acknowledge him, he decided to carry on as if nothing had happened. “Hold the reins in one hand, like this,” he said, showing her. “Cowboys need one hand free and most of the horses we sell go to ranchers. Hold the horn if it feels more comfortable.”

Sam saddled his horse, and then tied it up to the hitching ring outside of the stall.

“I forgot something, be right back.” He ran off, returning a few moments later with a second Stetson
, which he handed to her. “The sun gets awful hot out here; this’ll help keep the worst of it off your head and the glare out of your eyes.”

The neck of her shirt was high and with her hair down, it should save her neck from getting burned.

She accepted his logic and seated the hat on her head. She wished she had some pins to secure it, but there were two leather straps that went under her chin, which would help keep it in place.

Sam mounted his own horse and they walked
out of the barn. He knew that the ranch hands would stare instead of exercising their own mounts; they had been staring at them in the barn, ever since they got back from the race, so he suggested they go trail riding rather than use the paddocks.

They rode in companionable silence for most of the time, only talking when they had something to say.

“Is that your herd?” Ruth asked as she spied cows in the distance.

“It is. We try to keep it to betwee
n a hundred and a hundred fifty; let the horses really experience rounding up and driving cattle.”

A while later they came across some of the breeding stock.

“Most of them are wild,” Sam explained as they paused to watch them. “Don’t bother to approach; chances are they’ll just run off.”

“How do you catch them, to… break them
in?”

“It’s much like driving cattle. Working as a group, we separate one off from the others then drive it towards the barn.”

Ruth nodded, still uncomfortable with their method of schooling them.

“I know our ways seem harsh to someone like you but you have to remember that the West is a harsh place, in every way. The closest sheriff is eight miles away and even then, he’s not very effective.
The Rangers use methods as bad as our enemies do. Vigilante justice is still big in these parts, so is cattle rustling. Then there are the Salt Wars, and the Tiwa Indians, who are rightly pissed that we took their land. Again. Then there’s the place itself. If you go out without enough water, you could die. If you get injured out here on your own, chances are you
will
die.

“Is that why you carry a gun, because of cattle rustlers?”

“There’s not a whole lot of call for untamed horses, there’s plenty of them roaming free all over, but that doesn’t stop people trying to steal the trained horses, or the cattle. It may seem like a lifetime ago, but the war between the states took a great toll on the south and many people are still suffering. Their livelihoods taken from them, their homes were burned to the ground, loved ones killed. You don’t just get over that, no matter how much ‘reconstruction’ the government tries to do.” He turned and smiled at her. “But if you can bear the harsh realities, this is a great place to live.”