Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(62)

"Can you please go away?" Colin said, turning his head. He turned back. "Aren't you just about cleared for sex with that hot little mama you married? I mean, the kid is what? At least six weeks, right?"

"Over eight," Luke said with a smile that was both victorious and taunting. There was another thing he'd finally gotten over on Colin--the perfect wife and a son.

"Oh, for Jesus's sake, go home!"

"Not just yet," Luke said. "Not until Mom gets here to take over."

Colin's unbandaged eye grew round for a second, then slammed shut. He groaned loudly enough to bring one of the nurses out of the nurse's station. With a scowl, he said to Luke, "Why couldn't I just die?"

Blue Rhapsody was shaping up to be one of the most dependable and responsive horses in Nathaniel's stable. She was excellent with a young rider, as if she knew by the sheer weight that this was precious cargo. Yet when Lilly rode Blue, she was a little more energetic and sportive.

Blue was not officially Lilly's yet, but nearly so. Lilly paid her board with cash and work. She had an arrangement with Annie to help with some young riders' classes and activities in exchange for boarding costs. Lilly and Annie were planning an overnight trail ride for six eleven-year-old girls and that brought back such wonderful memories for Lilly. She always knew she loved horses and that riding brought her untold happiness, but it was with the planning of a trail ride that she recalled how much her horsemanship fed her confidence and gave her a sense of mastery.

Lilly had always been smaller than other girls her age, and her grandfather must have seen the struggle that brought her. He was the one that arranged for her to start riding and helping with the horses on the ranch next door. He had never admitted to paying for this luxury, but she seemed to remember him running errands for their neighbor, delivering anything from hardware to feed, and once Lilly was grown she realized there could only be one reason for that--a barter for her riding. And giving his little granddaughter the opportunity to learn to control and manage the thousand-pound animals gave her just the boost she needed to feel taller, stronger.

As September came to an end and the weather cooled down, the sun was setting earlier in the evening. It was hard for Lilly to finish her bookkeeping at the feed store early enough to take Blue for a ride, but she never missed a day of seeing her.

One evening as she tidied up her desk across from her grandfather's desk, he asked, "On your way to the stable, Lilly?"

She glanced at her watch, then shut down her computer. "If I hurry, I'll be the one to feed Blue and maybe have time to exercise her just a little bit."

"You might want to bring that Navajo around for a meal one of these days."

"You've met him and you know his name," she teased. "He doesn't call you that Hopi."

"Of course he doesn't. He wants my granddaughter. He'll be cautious. I could forbid it."

She flashed him a grin and then chuckled. "And I could go to work for another feed store," she taunted.

Yaz seemed to drop the teasing, at least a bit. "Has he asked to see me? To spend some time in discussions with me?"

Lilly just tilted her head to one side and smiled tenderly at Yaz. This was his old traditional way of asking if Clay would be speaking for her soon. And all that old tradition, as she'd said a hundred times, wasn't important to her. She found it completely respectable--and it made the most sense--for a man to actually ask the woman he was interested in, considering that her acceptance really was the most important issue. But it was pointless to argue with Yaz. "I haven't known him all that long, Grandpa."

"It doesn't take all that long, Lilly." Their eyes were locked together for a long moment. "You'd better get to that stable before you miss seeing the horse that occupies so much of your brain these days."

"I suppose I'll see you in the morning," Lilly said.

"Where would I go? I'll be here," he returned. "I don't have a horse to visit." And then he winked at her.

It was dusk by the time she got there; with the mountains to the east and west and the sun beaming across the stable and pastures, it looked like a movie set, an idyllic setting for anyone who loved animals and the outdoors. She saw Blue out in the far pasture with Annie's mares. She assumed they'd all been fed and turned out; Nathaniel and Clay operated on a very strict feeding schedule to avoid digestive problems.

She was going to take a shortcut through the stable to the pasture, but before she got very far she heard music and stopped. It was the high, haunting, magical Native American flute, the kind she'd heard many times at celebrations and ceremonies and programs for tourists. Soft and pleasant, sometimes eerie, the rhythm slow. Lilting.

She walked through the stable and saw that Clay was perched on the top rail of the fence surrounding the pasture, facing away from the stable, playing the flute in the dusk. His silhouette cast a long shadow and the music he made caused her to quiver low in her belly. He'd been working all day so his hair was braided and hung down his back. He wore the hat with the feather. His fingers worked the flute while his pursed lips rested on the mouthpiece. Rawhide ties and beads hung down from the end of the instrument.

She leaned against the opened doors, her hands behind her back. He didn't notice her; he was completely at peace. The melody was no doubt something from his childhood, perhaps his grandfather's childhood. And it was flawlessly done, as though he'd been playing that particular piece for many years. Perhaps many lifetimes.