Callie threw a bridle over Volt’s head and then put a blanket and saddle on him. Volt huffed and bumped his nose affectionately against her shoulder as she cinched the girth strap and then led him from his stall. She didn’t even wait to get out of the barn before she mounted up.
Once she was astride the horse, she kicked his sides, clicking her tongue, and Volt jolted forward. She broke him into a canter to warm him up. He didn’t need much to get into the rhythm. Another swift kick and he was shooting across the back field, straight toward the mountains. The wind lashed her hair in stinging slaps across her face, but the pain felt good. It was a pain she’d rather focus on instead of the searing agony in her chest.
Volt seemed to sense her need to flee, and he ran like wild lightning from a summer storm. Ahead of them, the wooded mountains were carved with trails of bright green grass. Callie urged Volt to gallop parallel to the grove of Aspen trees that bordered the farthest edge of her family’s property. The white trunks looked like slender ghosts weaving through the dappled sunlight. The brilliant gold leaves reminded her of the cadmium paint color she’d been mixing on her palette this morning. This morning. So much had changed since then.
A few hours ago she had been experimenting with acrylic paints, dabbling really, since she had no clue how to use that particular medium. A half-painted canvas, one depicting the Aspen leaves falling, was supposed to be a gift for Fenn Lockwood, to remind him of the home he’d had at Broken Spur. And even though he now had a new life on Long Island, Broken Spur would always be a part of him. At least, that’s what she’d hoped as she lost herself in creating the painting. It had been twenty-five years since Fenn had come to Walnut Springs. Twenty-five years since Jim and Maggie had taken Fenn in as a surrogate son. An entire quarter of a century where Fenn had been unaware of the family looking for him thousands of miles away. Roots like that didn’t just disappear, did they? Even if she couldn’t be Fenn’s future, she was certainly a part of his past and she clung to that thought like a lifeline.
Everything about Fenn had been perfect. Tall, muscled, blond-haired, and hazel-eyed, he’d been her dream in Wranglers and a fitted plaid shirt, like a god born to rule the wild lands from centuries ago before man trespassed here. A strong, quiet, intense man who cared for everyone around him with such a depth of emotion that it scared her sometimes. But she couldn’t stay away.
She had followed him wherever he went, to every bull-riding competition he participated in, and he’d even been her date to her senior prom since she’d been eighteen and allowed to bring an older date. All of her friends had been so jealous, but that night, she’d hoped more than anything he’d kiss her. He hadn’t, except for a brotherly kiss on the cheek before sending her upstairs to bed. Never once had she dared to tell him how she loved him, but she’d shown him in every breath, every look, every action she could. And it hadn’t been enough to even turn his head. Would it have mattered if she’d told him how she felt? No. It wouldn’t. Because he looks at Hayden in a way he’s never looked at me. Some truths hurt. Bad. Bad enough that she suddenly had trouble breathing again past the burst of a sob.
And now he was getting married. To Hayden.
Tears dripped down her face. She wasn’t even sure if it was the wind or from her broken heart. Tugging on the reins, she slowed Volt down. He dropped back into a canter and then to a walk.
“Easy boy,” she crooned and patted his muscular neck. “You always want to push too hard for too long.” It was something she sometimes felt inside herself. A wild need to push herself beyond her own limits until she broke free.
Volt tossed his head, his black mane flaring in a ripple over his skin as though to protest her words but kept their leisurely pace as they moved along the line of Aspen trees, his hooves churning the blanket of vivid yellow leaves. They were a few months away from heavy snow, but there was no mistaking the distant aroma of winter. Something about that scent calmed her. Snow buried. Snow covered. It hid away things that needed to be erased or at least temporarily forgotten.
Could she forget her broken heart if it lay beneath an early snowfall? Perhaps, but it didn’t erase the fact that she would have to go to the engagement party. See them smiling, together, posing for pictures, holding each other close. Things she’d never get to do with Fenn.
The winding gold trail that Volt climbed soon led to a small hill where large gray rocks littered the slope. She tugged back on his reins, and he halted. Callie slid off his back and led him to a copse of trees. After looping his reins around a sturdy low branch of a nearby tree, she walked over to the outcropping of rocks and climbed up a particularly thick, waist-high rock half covered in pale wintergreen moss. She let one leg dangle down the front of the rock while she tucked her other leg up and rested her chin on her knee.
Clouds swept across the skies, their shadows playing a game of chase upon the rolling hills and tree-strewn valleys below. Her father had shown her this spot after her mother had died. The two of them had been lost without her. Nature had become the mother she’d lost. Her father had taught her that a person could find peace here, under the brilliant skies and in the changing winds.
A few stray tears escaped her eyes, but she didn’t wipe them away. There was no one here to witness her breaking apart in a thousand pieces, just the wind, skies, and mountains, and they’d hold her secret heartache for as long as she needed them to.
She knew she was a fool to think that Fenn could ever return her feelings, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from hoping. But now it was certain; there would be no Cinderella moment for her, no grand transformation. Just life on the ranch and perhaps a job in the town, if she didn’t need to work with her father.
What I need to do is find a way to move on. Learn to live without him.
A flood of memories engulfed her, the way Fenn used to hug her and ruffle a hand through her hair, the way he’d carried her up to bed when she’d been ten years old after she’d fallen asleep on the couch. How his natural scent would cling to his coats and she’d used to wear them when he wasn’t around, just to feel close to him.
Such a fool…to love so much and lose so much.
She couldn’t let this happen again. No more falling in love. No more exposing her soul in hopes someone would see her for who she was. There could be no half measures here—she couldn’t stand this kind of pain again.
I’m done with men, done with love, done with all of that romantic nonsense. It’s not worth the pain. Callie was never going to let her heart dupe her into falling for a man ever again.
Her composure back in place, Callie rubbed her palms on her jeans and then slid off the boulder. She walked back to Volt, who was waiting patiently for her. She unwound the reins from the branch.
“Time to go back.” She didn’t want to, but she was a big girl and had to face this, even if it killed her piece by piece.
* * *
Wes Thorne stood on the porch of one of the brand-new, nearly completed luxury cabins that was being constructed on the backside of the Broken Spur ranch lands facing the mountains. The wood of the porch railing was slightly rough but would be smoothed out with a sander soon. The oak was solid and firm and a rich color of brown that was pleasing to the eye. These cabins would be incredibly lucrative for Jim and Callie.