I held up the grooming items and nodded. “I’ve got this handled. You go ahead and get cleaned up.”
I leaned in to give him a kiss, and he abruptly jumped back from me, surprisingly me.
“No way, woman,” he said definitely. “No kiss until I get myself cleaned up. I’m a mess. I’ll be right back.”
While I laughed at him, he grinned at me good-naturedly but stepped quickly out of my reach and hurried from the barn while I took the brushes and went to acquaint myself with my new friends.
***
Thirty minutes later and Dave was back, with his hair still slightly damp and dressed in a light-blue T-shirt that matched his eyes, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. He swept me into his arms and gave me an extra passionate kiss to make up for the earlier refusal, he informed me, and boy did it and he tasted good, like clean, minty mouthwash.
“Well worth the wait,” I said honestly, laying my hand possessively against his stomach before turning with pride and indicating the horses all brushed down and bridled, awaiting us in their stalls.
“I even cleaned their hooves. I wasn’t sure if you wanted a saddle,” I said with a shrug.
“Bareback’s fine by me,” Dave said. “Which one do you want to ride?”
“Do you have a preference?” I asked.
“I’ll ride Jack. They’re equal in size and really in temperament too but Princess has a real nice gait,” he decided, starting into Jack’s stall as he spoke.
I took Princess by the reins, and followed Dave out into the corral where he grabbed a set of saddlebags that I saw had been dangling over the fence.
“I hope that you like chicken salad sandwiches,” he said tossing the bags over Jack’s withers.
“Perfect,” I assured him.
Dave dropped Jack’s reins and came around to Princess’ side to assist me up onto her back.
“Hey, I got this,” I said, stopping him as he was bending to take hold of my left leg just above the ankle in order to give me a leg up.
Dave stepped back with a wide grin and crossed his arms over his chest, to observe how I planned on getting astride the fifteen-hand animal and likely was anticipating an amusing struggle.
I took a step toward Princess’ head to give myself some room, casually grabbed a handful of mane with both hands and swung up and onto her back smoothly with practiced ease.
“Whoa! Your stock just went way up, honey. That’s impressive,” Dave exclaimed with true appreciation.
I laughed with a roll of my eyes at his flattery but I was pretty pleased with his reaction, however, in truth, it had taken me a long, long time and a lot of practice for this maneuver to look so easy and polished.
My sister Sarah and I had spent hours, as kids, perfecting this seemingly effortless way of mounting a horse which takes much more strength and finesse than anyone realizes. When it all began for us as young girls, though, for Sarah and me it was all part of our emulating American Indians, as we spent our days roaming the pastures surrounding the stables, playing out different scenarios. We’d decided that if we were going to be Indians then we had to ride bareback like Indians and we had to learn to mount a horse Indian-style and so we had practiced and practiced and practiced. We had also worn fringed soft cowhide moccasins and had carried soft leather canteens of drinking water; and pouches of beef jerky, were always hanging at our waists. We even took it so far as to braid our horses’ manes with feathers and jingling beads and we had used water based pony paints to draw tribal symbols on their coats. We would swing onto our horses backs and be off, whooping like Indians on the warpath out to protect our lands from the invading white man.
Dave grabbed Jack’s reins and was nodding and grinning at me as he put them around the horse’s neck and quite impressively swung up onto Jack’s back in similar fashion.
“Okay, let’s go hotshot,” he teased, reaching out to open the corral gate.
As he moved Jack around the swinging arm, following me out of the corral he continued curiously. “Torie, you’re just amazing me more and more by the minute. I had no idea that you know so much about horses.”
“Well, I didn’t even know that you had horses until you told me last night. We could’ve had something else in common to talk about much sooner.”
“I think that we’re gonna enjoy getting to know each other,” Dave predicted. “I can’t wait to find out what else you haven’t been telling me.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as every ounce of it seemed to hammer through my heart in a sudden spurt of terror as I remembered all of my dark secrets I held inside Rose’s house. I looked away and out toward the open pasture before us, to hide my panic as I said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t be getting to know me that well, anytime soon.
***
The pastureland we rode through stretched out for nearly ten acres and it was sandwiched between corn and soybean fields. A cool breeze came up as we rode along a tree-lined trail that edged the pasture at the fence line and we stayed under the trees that gave us relief from the direct sun. It was about seventy-five degrees which is perfect riding weather and the horses were frisky and every so often we let them have their heads for short bursts of a nice canter. I found that Dave had been right; Princess did have a gait that was as smooth as glass.
For the most part though, as we walked our horses and rode side by side, we talked and continued to build a base of knowledge about each other. Dave asked me about my childhood growing up with horses and he was surprised to learn that my experience eclipsed his own by far. We also talked a little about my sister Sarah’s horse rescue work in Colorado, which led to his admitting to me that he’d never been to Colorado or any place out west except to Arizona when he had helped to get his parents settled there. He expressed that his desire was to someday take some trips to the East coast to see some of the architecture in the New England area. I was surprised by this and admitted to him that my bucket list also included seeing sights on the East coast as well and also finding some of my ancestors on my mom’s side of my family tree, whose graves are in Massachusetts and New Hampshire.
***
We paused at the crest of a small hillock to take in the view as we arrived at our goal, the pond. A light breeze was blowing in our direction and across the huge expanse of water before us that covered probably more than two full acres. Smack dab in the center of the pond stood a small wooden cabin and there was a long wooden dock that led out over the water and directly to the tidy little structure. Further out was a wooden swimming platform accessible by a metal ladder that I could see glinting in the sun.
“Oh that’s awesome,” I exclaimed.
“Yeah, my brothers and I spent a lot of time out here when we were kids,” Dave explained as we started down the decline toward the pond. “It was great for camp outs, fishing, and duck hunting trips. The cabin is pretty much a complete home, with everything you might need, although it hasn’t been used for anything and has sat vacant for many years now.”
We dismounted from our horses at the water’s edge and Dave removed rawhide hobbles from one of the saddle bags and expertly hobbled the horses that stood placidly for the procedure which allowed us to be able to leave them to graze along the pond without them ‘heading for the hills’ as Dave put it. After we had removed their bridles and left them to enjoy the drifts of waving grass, Dave took up the saddle bags and nodded his head toward the water.
“Do you want to go on out there? There’s a nice little deck on the east side. It’s pretty out there and gets a good breeze. The pond is naturally occurring and stream fed so it isn’t stagnant or buggie.”
“Sure,” I agreed, reaching for the hand he extended toward me and we walked side by side out over the water. As we did, I could see that the pond was well stocked with tons of fish. They were everywhere and followed us as we walked along the wooden walkway. A little freaked out, I moved closer to Dave and further away from the edge of the dock, taking his arm and hugging up against him which caus
ed him to chuckle.
“They won’t get you,” he assured me with a laugh. “I’ll protect you.”
***
As we arrived at the cabin, we saw that the position of the sun was casting a pretty nice shadow over the deck, east of the structure. Two small fishing boats were just south of the deck up on a dry dock of their own and turned upside down, covered by heavy canvas and I decided as I looked about the water world around me that this was probably a paradise for the four Cameron boys who had grown up here. I could imagine that they had probably had quite a few imaginary adventures of their own.
Dave put the saddlebags down and opened the cabin door, stepping inside. He emerged a minute later with a couple of folding chairs.
“My lady,” he said gallantly, placing a chair out for me.
He went back inside and brought out a small folding table and placed it between us and dusted it off with a paper towel that he had in hand. He joined me, sitting across from me as he began rummaging in the saddlebags and setting out our lunch. It just kept coming as if he was a magician; the bags holding more than seemed possible. He pulled out plastic silverware, napkins, paper plates, a small container of fruit, a container of home-made potato salad, two bottles of water, two sandwiches and two small bags of chips.
As we began filling our plates, I was very aware that we had a lot of company. The fish were all along the edge of the dock, surfacing and surging to get a better view as they watched us with interest.
“I’d hate to fall in. I think you could get eaten alive,” I observed, eyeing them suspiciously. “They look hungry to me.”
Dave glanced over the side of the dock at them, giving them little notice.
“They do really well out here. It’s a perfect stopping spot and a lot of them spawn here I think because there has always been plenty around. It is a little freaky to swim in here,” he admitted, nodding toward the swim platform about fifteen yards away. “They do tend to nibble on ya a bit.”
“I knew it!” I said with an involuntary shudder.
“Joking,” he assured me with a laugh. “They mostly run from you if you are in the water but you can feel their tails skimming you as they pass by.”
I shuddered again at the idea. “So are they trapped here?”
“No, this pond is actually fed by a creek that empties south of here and goes on downstream eventually merging with the Skunk River.”
“I went fishing just one time when I was about five-years-old,” I said, tossing a small piece of my bread crust into the water to see it gobbled up instantaneously. “I was with my dad and the entire day all I did was worry about injuring the fish, hurting the worms. I remember my dad put the fish into a collapsible mesh basket hanging over the side of the boat and I kept worrying about their comfort. We released them at the end of the day but it was just a stress-filled experience for me,” I admitted with a laugh. “My dad never did that again.”
“Note to self, no fishing,” Dave said with a chuckle. “That’s good to know but actually I don’t fish myself; not since I was a kid. Tell me about your writing, Torie,” he said suddenly. “Was that always your plan for your life?”
“Well, I minored in creative writing in college but got a degree in finance,” I smiled over at him self-consciously as I admitted. “I had planned to take the business world by storm and I actually ended up as one of the directors of the new business department at Principal Life until my first novel was picked up by my publisher. What about you? Was your plan always renovation?” I asked.
“Yep, as far back as I can remember I’ve been interested in restoration and building things. I love history and the original way that things used to be done and understanding how it all worked back then, you know what I mean?” he asked.
I nodded my understanding, having it occur to me as I listened to him go on to talk about what restoring old houses means to him, that he would be someone who would totally enjoy the time travels I’ve been experiencing. I would never tell him about the travels, of course, but as he talked, I was thinking about all of the old buildings and many of the construction practices that I have observed. Also the farming processes that I have seen performed and just the everyday necessary skills that I myself have learned regarding the running of nineteenth and early twentieth century households back in old Fremont. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that my travels would be something that Dave would love to experience.
***
After we finished our lunch and had packed up our containers to go, I decided that I wanted to take a look in the cabin and stepping inside, found that it was actually very nice. It had two built-in beds against walls opposite of each other and in between the two beds, was a kitchen area with cupboards and a tall butcher block work table. The cupboards were stocked with cups and plates and a good supply of pots and pans, with scorched bottoms that attested to them having seen many a campfires in their day. I leaned back against the butcher block table and then noticed above was a loft area with two additional bunks nestled up close to the bare rafters. Dave entered just then carrying the table and chairs and lifted them up to lay them atop one of the loft beds. He turned to face me with a smile.
“Want to see something pretty cool?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said watching him with curiosity.
Dave walked across the room and leaned over the bed which was hugging the wall and then he tugged on a dangling rope at the wall. The entire side of the cabin opened, lifting up to expose a floor to ceiling screened window and Dave wrapped the rope around a cleat to keep the window propped open. He walked across the cabin and pulled an identical rope revealing another window on the opposite side and there was a refreshing whoosh as the breeze blew through, taking away with it any trace of the heat and staleness that had hung in the air from years of being closed up.
“Wow,” I said in amazement, enjoying the cool brush of the wind against my skin. “This is a high end arrangement.”
“Oh yeah, my grandpa Joe helped us build this thing back in the eighties. He was quite the craftsman. He taught me a lot of what I know.”
“It’s very nice, and private out here in the middle of nowhere like it is. You ever entertain the ladies out here, Dave?” I teased.
“You are the first,” he said with a shy smile of surpassing sweetness.
“Not even Laura?” I cajoled him, unbelieving of his statement.
“Laura didn’t enjoy the outdoors or the country or the pond. She didn’t like horses because she was afraid of them,” he shook his head and shrugged helplessly. “It wasn’t a match made in heaven.”
“Hmmm…” I said taking a step forward and wishing to remove the look of embarrassment from his face for his confession about his failed marriage, I reached up to cradle his face between my hands and guided him down to me for a kiss. His arms came around my waist possessively and I lifted on my toes and slanted my lips across his, for a suggestively passionate kiss.
“Umm, you’d better watch yourself honey or you could find yourself ravaged right here and now,” he whispered in a husky voice.
“Or you could,” I challenged grinning up at him as I draped my arms around his neck.
He gazed down into my eyes and kissed my lips gently, wrapping me closer in his embrace.
“I’m serious, Torie. It scares me to think about how desperately I’ve wanted you all of these months. I thought that I was gonna lose my mind a couple of times, missing you, missing your company and wanting you so much. I could very easily become completely insatiable,” he warned seriously.
“Shhh,” I said and placed a finger over his mouth to silence him, then removed my hand and kissed him again deeply.
“Well, you’ve been warned,” he breathed against my mouth and suddenly I was off of my feet as he lifted me and set me up onto the butcher block table behind me.
I reached out and slipped a finger into the waistband of his blue jeans and pulled him forward until he was standing between my opened thighs.
&
nbsp; “I’m never going to be able to get enough of you, Torie,” he confessed as he began to lift the hem of my T-shirt.
“I hope that’s a promise,” I replied as I lifted my arms over my head, allowing him to remove my shirt—it dropped to the cabin floor.
“It’s a promise,” he whispered, smoothing his hands over my bare back as he kissed me deeply and his passion kicked into high gear.
Chapter 24
The Iowa State Fair came and went, and Dave and I never attended because we didn’t have a moment’s time or capacity for anything except being alone with each other. I spent every night at his place during the first part of August, leaving Rose’s house and the time warps behind me and I’d found that I didn’t miss them even one little bit because I was much too occupied with actually living my own life for a change. I had effortlessly and quickly fallen hard for Dave Cameron and in fact, although I hadn’t said the words and neither had he, I was totally, head over heels, in love.
But on a Thursday morning, August 16th, to be exact, I found myself wrenched out of my lover’s arms and once again set upon the treadmill, in the form of a first class jetliner seat and in the company of my usual traveling companion, slash babysitter, my publicist Nancy, who though she always has my best interests at heart, really pushes me, with the full support and backing of my literary agent and publishing house. I knew, well enough, that I was a pain in their collective corporate asses and I really wasn’t trying to earn the reputation of being a temperamental troublesome diva but I’d had enough book signing events to last me a lifetime, and this trip to Chicago was going to be my last one, damn it, if I could just get up the courage to put my foot down.
At least the signing was only for four hours on Friday and at a smaller, more intimate shop, Barnett-Owen Books, in conjunction with their becoming a retailer for Kindle. I would be back home by Saturday night and although I didn’t want to be away from Dave for even one night, he had promised me that he would be waiting.