A Cowboy in Manhattan(6)

Katrina spotted the family cook, Henrietta, in the pantry off the kitchen, restocking the shelves from a cardboard box. She smiled a greeting to the familiar woman as she pulled open one side of the big stainless-steel refrigerator.

In the pocket of her slacks, her cell phone vibrated. She retrieved it to see an unfamiliar New York City number.

“Hello?” she inquired, moving to a far corner of the kitchen, where a solid wall blocked the noise from her siblings’ conversation.

“Hello, Katrina.”

Her teeth clenched at the sound of Quentin Foster’s voice. A member of the Liberty Ballet Board of Directors, the last time they’d spoken, he’d been hitting on her.

“I wanted to see how you were feeling,” he continued, tone solicitous.

“Fine,” she told him evenly, wondering how she could diplomatically end the call. He was an important man in the organization, but his flirtatious manner had gotten entirely out of hand.

“We’re all very worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be back soon.”

“Back?” His tone slipped. “Have you left the city?”

“I’m visiting family. I really need to go. Thanks for calling.”

“Katrina, wait.”

She braced herself. “Yes?”

“Have you had another chance to think about what I said?”

About becoming his lover? “I haven’t changed my mind.”

In her peripheral vision, she caught her brother Seth’s curious gaze on her. “I do have to go. Thank you for your concern.” She quickly hit the off button then shut down her phone, turning her attention back to her family.

“Mandy’s riding up to take a look at the Blue Lake herd today,” said Travis. “And I’ll check to see how many have moved through the canyon.”

Katrina knew there was a science to herd distribution across their vast rangelands, taking in the seasons, weather reports and rainfall, but she had no idea how it worked. More than once, she’d privately mused that if she’d lived in the 1800s, she’d probably have died young of stupidity or been killed off by her outraged community because of her ineptitude.

“What time is the vet due in?” asked Abigail, refilling her coffee cup.

“He said around eleven,” Mandy offered. “But you know how those things go.”

“I have to touch base with the campaign office before I do anything else,” said Abigail, reminding Katrina of her oldest brother’s upcoming campaign for the mayor’s seat in Lyndon.

Katrina selected a smooth, deep-green Granny Smith apple from the crisper drawer, rinsing it under the tap before returning to the table.

“What about you?” Travis asked her as she sat back down.

“Me?” she responded, confused by his question. Were they still talking about the mayoralty campaign?

“You want to ride up to the lake with me today?” asked Mandy.

Katrina hesitated, glancing at the expressions around the table. She couldn’t believe they’d forgotten. She’d never mastered riding a horse. The animals still frightened her. The thought of sitting on top of one for six hours made her cringe.

“I have a pretty rigorous rehearsal and training routine,” she told everyone.

Seth waved a dismissive hand. “Take a day off.”

“I—”

“The fresh air will be good for you,” Travis declared.

Only Mandy was looking at her curiously.

“I wish I could,” Katrina lied with a shake of her head. “But I need to stay in shape.”

“Horseback-riding is good exercise,” said Travis.

“Is there a bicycle anywhere around here?” She tried to change the subject. Jogging would be the simplest exercise, since she didn’t have access to a gym. But the jarring would be too hard on her healing ankle, especially over uneven ground.

Her siblings glanced at each other.

“A bicycle?” Seth repeated the question.

“I like to bike,” said Katrina. “It’s good for my quads.”

Travis snorted. “A little productive work would be good for your quads too.”

“Travis,” Abigail warned.

“There might be an old bike in the blue shed,” said Mandy. “We can look after breakfast.” She glanced at the apple in Katrina’s hand. “You sure you don’t want something hot?”