Come Sundown
Nora Roberts
“We sure do appreciate all this fine food, Miss Fancy, Miss Cora, Miss Reenie, Bo, ah…”
“Jessica,” she told him.
“Ma’am. It smells a treat in here. Now, don’t you lift that big pot, Miss Cora. I got that.”
“You and the boys enjoy what’s in it, Hec, and be sure that pot comes back.”
“I’ll get it back to you, but you can be sure there won’t be a scrap of these mashed potatoes left before I do. Mighty obliged. And happy Thanksgiving, ladies.”
The minute the door shut behind him and Chase and a load of food, Bodine snorted. “He’s still sweet on you, Nana.”
“You stop that, Bodine Samantha Longbow.”
“Calling me by my full name doesn’t change the facts. Hector’s been sweet on Nana as long as I can remember.”
“You aren’t old enough to remember all that long, are you?” Cora said tartly.
“Old enough to know you’d have a boyfriend if you gave him the opening.”
“I’m too set in my ways for a man. And you’re a fine one to talk about boyfriends. When’s the last time you stepped out with a man on a Saturday night?”
Bodine bit into one of the eggs her great-grandmother had deviled. “Maybe I’m too set in my ways.”
“I see one out there who’d change those ways.” Miss Fancy grinned out the window. “That Callen Skinner sure fills out a pair of Levi’s nice and fine.”
“Grammy!”
Miss Fancy laughed, winking at Bodine. “I’ve got eyes, and I don’t even need the glasses since they fiddled with my lenses taking off the cataracts. Yes, sir, I see just fine. Hear fine, too, like hearing you ride into town with him most mornings now.”
“There’s nothing to that.”
“Doesn’t mean there couldn’t be, or he couldn’t make there be, if he sets his sights on you.”
“I’m not a target,” Bodine retorted.
Cora poked her shoulder. “Teach you to mind your mouth about who’s sweet on who.”
“You ought to ask Jessica why she’s not stepping out on a Saturday night.”
“Why is that, Jessie?” Maureen wanted to know.
“Right under the bus?” Jessica asked Bodine.
“Around here it’d be wagon, but it’s all the same.”
Jessica was spared finding an answer as the men trooped into the house and, as predicted, got in the way.
Outside of an event, Jessica had never seen so much food. In addition to the traditional turkey, they offered ham and beef, mashed and scalloped potatoes, an ocean of gravy, brandied yams, candied yams, stuffing, a bounty of vegetables and salads, fresh-made applesauce, cranberry sauce, biscuits and sourdough rolls warm from the oven.
Along with the food, the drink, conversation flowed. She noted the subject of Billy Jean remained off the Thanksgiving table, and could only be grateful.
Not a day passed at work without speculation, questions. She considered the holiday meal a reprieve.
Seated between Chase and Callen, Jessica sampled the ham.
“You be careful with those slivers of meat on your plate,” Callen advised. “You won’t have room for dessert.”
“There’s too much here for more than a sliver. Where are you going to find room?” She wagged a finger toward his more generously filled plate.
“Miss Maureen’s apple pie is like nobody else’s. I dreamed about that pie every Thanksgiving I wasn’t at this table.”
So this was tradition for him, Jessica thought, sharing Thanksgiving with this family rather than his own. She filed that away. “I guess you work it off. I couldn’t make it to your show last Saturday, but I hear you and your horse were major hits.”
“We had some fun with it.”
“I want to get some pictures next time.” Bodine leaned around from the other side of Callen, then shifted to gesture at Rory across from her. “We should put one or two up on the website. I caught part of it. Sundown had the people eating out of his hand. You weren’t bad, either,” she told Callen.
“He taught me all I know.”
“Smartest horse I ever knew,” Sam put in. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he said, ‘Howdy, Sam,’ one day when I walk by his stall.”
“We’re working on it,” Callen told him.
“I’ll have to meet this wonder horse.” Jessica tried a forkful of mashed potatoes.
“He’d be pleased. He likes pretty women. Especially ones who bring him a carrot.”
Bodine shifted a little as Callen aimed a look at her. “I suppose you’re going to claim he told you about that,” she said.
“We have our ways. Sundown and me, we have our ways. You get much chance to ride, Jessie?”
“Me? Oh, I don’t ride.”
Conversation, all the little pockets of it around the table, emptied into silence. And once again Bodine leaned around Callen.
“At all?”
“There wasn’t much opportunity in Lower Manhattan.”
“But you’ve been on a horse. Like a trail ride.” Surprised enough to ask, Chase shifted to face her.
“Actually, no. I’ve never been on a horse.”
“How did we not know that?” Rory wondered. “How did we not know that?”
“Nobody asked.” Feeling suddenly exposed, as if she’d inadvertently confessed to a crime, Jessica reached for her wine. “It wasn’t in the job description.”
“Well, we’ll fix that.” Sam snagged another biscuit. “Cora here’s a fine teacher. The fact is, everybody around this table could teach you basic horsemanship in no time at all. We’ll get her up on Maybelle, don’t you think, Bo?”
“Maybelle’s as gentle and patient as they come. Abe always put her in for the dead novice or the skittish.”
“Really, you don’t have to bother. I don’t—”
“Are you afraid of horses?” Chase asked, gently enough that she felt heat rise up the back of her neck.
“No.” Not in theory. “No, not at all,” she said more firmly.
“We’ll get you up in a saddle,” Sam told her. “Don’t you worry about it.”
Stuck, Jessica smiled, drank more wine.
She hadn’t been worried about it. Now she imagined she’d worry about little else.
The break between dinner and dessert included cleanup, and a choice of cards or watching football.
Since Jessica understood football better than cards, she opted for that. But she’d barely settled in when Chase brought in her coat and a pair of barn boots.
“Mom said I should take you over, get you used to the horses.”
“Oh, really, that’s not necessary.”
“I don’t argue with my mother. It’s a waste of time because she always wins.”
“That’s a fact,” Rory confirmed, then snarled at the game. “For God’s sake, where’s the defense? Are they taking the day off?”
“She said these ought to fit.” Chase held out the boots. “You can’t go walking across the yard in those high heels.”
“Fine.” She’d get it over with. Her hostess—and employer—had made a request. She’d walk over, look at horses, and be done.
She’d looked at plenty of horses since moving to Montana.
From a comfortable distance.
She put on the boots, which did fit well enough even if they looked ridiculous with her dress, then pulled on her coat.
Chase led her out the side door. The snow had stopped, but a fresh three inches glittered under the yard lights.
Making her grateful for the boots.
“It’s not like I need to ride anywhere,” she began.
“It’s a good skill to have. Like swimming. Can you swim?”
“Of course I can swim.”
“I’ve never been to Lower Manhattan. Didn’t know if there were many opportunities for that there, either.”
“It’s an island,” Jessica reminded him as a raucous cheer erupted from the bunkhouse.
“They’re watching the game.”
“I like football well enough, but it’s just a game.”
He opened the door, hit the lights.
It was a soft smell, Jessica thought. Horses. Different, a little different from what it was when she walked by them in paddocks or rings.
He walked down the sloped concrete, stopped. “This is Maybelle. She’s a good choice for the first time up on a horse.”
As he spoke, the horse lifted her head, dark brown with a jagged white blaze, over the stall door.
“If she had wool, she’d be a lamb. Isn’t that so, Maybelle?”
Her ears flicked forward as he rubbed her cheek. Her eyes looked deep into Jessica’s.
“You can pet her. She likes it. Have you petted a horse before?”
“No.”
“I’m not going to say some won’t bite, because they will. But not this one. She’s a good girl. Here you go.”
Before Jessica realized he meant to, he’d taken her hand pressed it to the mare’s cheek.
Soft—like the scent. Smooth. Warm.
Her heart stopped hammering so she could enjoy the experience.
“She has beautiful eyes.”
“She does.”
Chase waited until her confidence built enough for her to stroke her hand down Maybelle’s neck.
“Have you ever been thrown?”
“Not what you’d call thrown. Slid off once and landed on the ground. But we were riding bareback, Cal and me, and half-drunk with it. A long while back,” he added when Jessica looked at him.
“Your family really wants me to do this.”
“Nobody’s going to make you do something if you’re afraid of it, or just plain don’t want to.”
“I should try it. Have the experience.” She backed up. “I’ll think about it anyway.” She jolted a bit, turned, at the snort behind her. “Who’s that one?”
“That’s the famous Sundown.”
“Sundown the wonder horse.” She approached warily, but she approached. “He’s beautiful. And big. He’s big.”
“Runs seventeen hands, so some bigger than most. Smart, like Dad said, and he can be sly. But he’s got no mean in him.”
To test her mettle, she moved closer. Her hand paused halfway up, hesitating. Could a horse look amused? she wondered, making herself lift her hand all the way to his cheek.
“Okay, two for two. You’re really big, very impressive, and very, very handsome.”
Sundown turned his head, angling it down, as if suddenly shy. Chase laughed.
“I swear I don’t know how he does it. It’s like he understands every word we say.”
Smiling, Jessica turned around. “Maybe he does. I think—”
This time she didn’t just jolt, she all but leaped and landed hard against Chase.
“He was just sniffing your hair.” To steady her, Chase put his arms around her—or told himself that was why. “It’s pretty, and it smells good. He didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I was startled. He just startled me.” Still a little breathless, she looked up. His eyes were so green, she thought, so strongly green and flecked with gold.
“It’s pretty,” Chase said again. “Your hair’s pretty.”
And lowered his mouth to hers.
He smelled of the horses, she thought. Soft and warm. His mouth was the same, warm and soft against hers. A quiet kiss, one that might have been peaceful if not for the rapid drumming of her heart. Despite the drumming, leaning into him, into the moment, was the easiest thing she’d ever done.
He pulled back, stepped back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve … taken advantage like that.”
The soft, shiny bubble popped. “Like what?”
“Well, I … It might seem like I lured you in here, and then I grabbed hold of you.”
Now she lifted her eyebrows. “I think I did the initial grabbing.”
“That was—” He broke off, pulled off his hat, raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure what to … I’m not sure.”
“I can see that. I guess you should let me know whenever you are. We should get back.”
He shoved his hat back on, caught up with her. “It’s just I don’t want you to feel I’d take advantage, that you’d feel obligated—”
She stopped in her tracks, froze him with a look. “Don’t insult me.”
“I wasn’t. I didn’t mean … Christ almighty, I can talk to people better than this. Women. I’m not saying what I mean to say.”
“If you think for one minute that I believe you did, or you would, pressure me into a physical or sexual relationship because you’re a member of the family that employs me, you’re insulting my intelligence and my character judgment. And I’m saying exactly what I mean to say.”
“All right.”
“If you think I’d encourage or allow the same, you’re an idiot.”
“I think I got your point, all the way through. I only wanted to apologize if I crossed a line. I didn’t mean to cross it, right or wrong. You smell good.”
“We established that last part, thank you. And I’ll let you know if and when you cross a line.”
“All right.” Deciding it was safer all around to leave it at that, Chase opened the door for her.
He glanced back, saw Sundown watching the human drama with apparent delight.
Chase snapped off the lights, shut the door.
CHAPTER TEN
December rushed in with a flurry of events, parties, the madness of decorating, juggling schedules when a number of key staff were out with a twenty-four-hour virus, and for Bodine, the annual frustration of shopping.
She didn’t mind shopping, especially the point-and-click style of online. But Christmas raised her gift-giving bar. She couldn’t and wouldn’t settle for adequate or good enough or even not bad at all when it came to Christmas.
When it came to selecting Christmas gifts, she demanded perfection.
She had her father’s—two dozen Cohiba cigars and an antique humidor she’d battled for fiercely on eBay. She topped it off with a bottle of Three Ships single-malt whisky. She had her brothers’ presents in the bag, and the grannies’. She’d ordered the managers’ gifts and would shortly hand sign the cards that would hold Christmas bonuses for staff.
A couple more gifts for friends, and some gag gifts—a Longbow tradition for stocking stuffers—didn’t worry her. But she’d yet to hit on the perfect gift for her mother.
That worry and weak spot left her vulnerable for Jessica’s not-very-subtle push for a shopping trip to Missoula.
