City Girl (33 page)

“You want me to break my neck, don't you?” she asked, but it was apparent to Cash that she wasn't really speaking to him. She was circling the animal and mumbling to herself.

“What if I don't want to?” she demanded as she came to stand in front of Cash.

“How are you going to run your own ranch someday if you can't ride?” the cowboy countered, and Reagan bit her lip.

“It might happen,” she said quietly.

“Yes, it might.”

“I mean, it would take a miracle, but God can do that, can't He?”

“Yes, He can.”

Cash watched her reconsider. While she was doing that, he reached for the hat that he'd hooked on her saddle horn and plopped it on her head.

“You'll need this.”

“Oh, my,” Reagan said as she took off the cowboy hat and examined it. “It's a woman's, isn't it? Where did you find it?”

“It's my mother's. She leaves it here.”

“And she won't mind?”

“Not at all.”

Cash watched her set the hat in place and adjust the rim. She then smiled up at him, and he had to ask himself what he'd been thinking to believe this was the answer to getting Reagan to relax on her day off. If the day continued as it started, he would be so weary from fighting his emotions, he wouldn't be able to stand.

“You're sure I won't get hurt?” she asked, her little face looking up at him trustingly.

“I can't say for sure, Reagan, but as much as it's within my power, I won't let you be harmed.”

“You promise?”

“I can't do that. I'm not God.”

Reagan's eyes grew a bit.

“Are we not supposed to promise?”

“It's not a good idea. Our word needs to be trustworthy, but I can't promise because circumstances might enter in that are out of my control.”

Reagan thought on this for a time.

“God promises. He promises all the time. But then He can do anything He needs to make the promise happen.”

Cash was glad he'd stayed quiet so she could come to this on her own.

“All right,” Reagan said after another moment of quiet. “I'll ride the horse.”

Without ceremony Cash boosted her into the saddle and watched her immediately panic. She gripped the horn with white-knuckled fingers and said in a voice that was very high and soft, “It's too far up. I'm going to fall.”

“I'm right here, Reagan,” Cash comforted, but it took a moment to get through to her. She stared at him in horror until she realized his hands were still holding her waist.

“You're still holding me.”

He smiled the smile that had become so familiar, and Reagan relaxed a bit. When Cash felt and saw it, he gave her some directions on what to do and stepped back. She looked ready to panic again but didn't say anything.

Cash climbed into the saddle of his own horse and maneuvered him close to hers. As he expected, Reagan's horse didn't even shift.

“Are you set?”

“I can't remember what to do first.”

“Give her a little bump with your heels. That's it.”

“We're moving!”

“You're doing fine.”

Inside of an hour, Reagan was as relaxed as if she'd been riding for years. She joined Cash when he stepped up the pace a bit and in little time found the rhythm of the horse's gait. Her hat flew off to be caught by the tie at her neck, and
her laughter could be heard from afar.

“I had no idea! The horse really does just what you tell it.”

“She's a good mount. Her name's Bessy, by the way.”

Reagan reached down and patted the side of the horse's neck. They rode on for some time before Cash wanted to show Reagan some sights from the top of the hills. They left the horses staked below and walked up a slope.

On the way up, however, Reagan lost her footing. With a small cry she began to fall. Cash steadied himself to catch her, but he was too late in responding. Almost before he knew it, he was tumbling backward. The slope wasn't extremely steep, and he'd have probably rolled down and laughed about it if not for the tree that got in his way. The back of his head slammed against the trunk and set his ears to ringing.

“Oh, Cash!” Reagan cried. Having righted herself, she began running as fast as she could to get to his side. He had already sat up by the time she got there, but he was shaking his head to clear it.

“Are you all right?”

“I think so, but that hurt.”

Reagan knelt next to him, her hands clenched in fear. She wanted to touch his head and see if he had a bump, but she was afraid of hurting him more.

“Why don't you lie back,” she suggested. “Maybe you'll feel better.”

Cash was feeling poorly enough to take her suggestion. He scooted forward a little, not caring about his clothing, and lay back. There was a slight rise at the base of the tree that was comfortable for his neck, and he settled in and shut his eyes.

“How is it?”

“It still hurts, but it did help to lie down. Thank you.”

“It's all my fault. I fell right into you.”

“It's not your fault, Reagan. I couldn't get my footing.”

Reagan didn't really feel any better, but it helped to have him sound normal to her. His eyes were closed, but he was still talking. Thinking it would help to change the subject, Reagan asked some questions about where they were. Cash told her what he'd been taking her to see and said that if he rested for a time, they could still go.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Reagan asked when Cash fell quiet.

Cash opened his eyes for a moment, put his head up, and looked back down the hill.

“Do you remember how far back it is to the horses?”

“Yes. It's not far at all.”

“Would you mind getting the water I have on my saddle?”

“I'll go right now.”

Reagan hurried, so it didn't take long, and after Cash drank, he closed his eyes again. By then Reagan had run out of words. She felt awful. She wouldn't have wanted it to happen to anyone, but especially not to Cash. Cash, who was always so strong and ready to take care of others.

Reagan looked into his face—it was rather pale—and felt her heart squeeze. She watched the even rise and fall of his chest and thought he must have gone to sleep. She didn't know if that was safe, but clearly his head hurt, and she didn't wish to disturb him.

Moving carefully, she picked up his hand and held it in her lap. It was a hand much larger and rougher than her own, and with gentle movements she touched his fingers and even laid her own palm against his. She prayed while doing this, asking God to heal him and not let him be permanently harmed. She was still holding his hand and praying when she looked over to find his eyes on her.

Reagan let go of his hand as though she'd been burned, color leaping into her face.

“You're in love with me, Reagan,” Cash said softly, and for a moment she froze.

It didn't last long. In less than a minute her face crumpled, and try as she might, the tears would not be stemmed.

“I didn't mean for it to happen. I really didn't,” she cried quietly, a few tears actually falling down her cheeks. “I just couldn't seem to help myself.”

The quiet tears deserted her then, and she cried the real ones, the ones that hadn't been shed in more years than she could remember. She was near to choking when she realized that Cash was sitting up and trying to speak to her.

“It's all right, Reagan,” he said. “Listen to me.”

“But it's not all right,” she told him, sniffling and shaking all over. “I have no right to love you.”

“How do you figure?”

“I just don't. I don't have any right to think that I could have Cash Rawlings for my own.”

“What right do I have to think I could have Reagan Sullivan?”

Reagan shook her head. “It's not the same.”

Cash smiled that warm, wonderful smile. “If the men at church are any indication, it's very much the same.”

Reagan looked into his eyes.

Cash looked right back. With slow movements, he reached forward and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “You've been very hurt by someone,” he said quietly.

All Reagan could do was nod.

“I'm not that man, Reagan.”

“No, you're not,” she agreed without hesitation. “You're nothing like my father.”

“Was he the one?”

“Yes. I see him differently now that I understand what a sinner I am, but the way fathers treat their children—good or bad—lasts a long time.”

“Can you tell me about it, or is it too painful?”

Reagan gave a mirthless laugh. “Even in that you're different. My father would have demanded an answer, not given me a choice.”

Cash waited, knowing he needn't say any more.

“All I can tell you,” Reagan started, “is what I know. I don't know the details. I just know how it affected me. Not long after my ninth birthday, my parents had a terrible fight. There was yelling and screaming, and I was locked out of the apartment. When my father came storming out, I ran in to find my mother on the floor.

“To this day I don't know if he struck her or forced himself on her or what, but she was crying and her hair was a mess, and she sat up and said she couldn't take it anymore.”

Reagan looked up and found Cash listening carefully.

“She was gone when I woke up the next morning, and I never saw her again. For a time I tried to be a very good little girl, certain that would bring her back, but no one even noticed. On top of that my father was addicted to the bottle, and that only grew worse after Mama left. He was angry all the time, and I became afraid of him when he came close to backhanding me. That only happened once, and he stopped short, but I remember it. I didn't answer him quickly enough about where I'd been, and he almost hit me.

“Day after day I would watch him drink until he couldn't move in the chair any longer, and I'd leave him alone until he roused again. I don't know how we ate or even stayed in the apartment, but one day he didn't rouse, and I went for the neighbors. He was dead, and I was alone. I wasn't going to let it get me down, so before I was even a teen, I found work. I worked hard and did my best to find adventure around every corner so I could forget the things that hurt me. That's why I took the nanny's job that didn't work out. That's why I was willing to come to Texas.”

Reagan looked him in the eye.

“But there's one adventure that terrifies me. I never wanted to be married. I never wanted a man to have control over me or to love me and then leave me or hurt me.”

Cash put his hand out, just holding it open and waiting. After a moment, Reagan placed her hand in his palm, but Cash did not enclose her hand. Still moving carefully, he put his thumb on the back of her hand, not too tightly, and not attempting to pull her toward him in any way.

“I must know your views on marriage better than anyone, Reagan. I've had to be very careful.”

“What do you mean?”

With his thumb stroking gently over the back of her hand, Cash said, “You're not a woman a man can rush. Not that I tend to be reckless, but I knew I had to be extra careful with your heart.”

“Oh, Cash,” was all she could think to say. Her thoughts felt scrambled. He was so wonderful—her heart knew that—but her mind was still afraid. Even the way he held her hand was undemanding. She didn't think she had ever met anyone like him.

“You need to know, Reagan, how much I want to take you in my arms right now and kiss you.” Cash shocked her with his words; the hold on her hand had given no indication. “But you may not want to be my wife. You may never accept my love, and as much as I want to kiss you, I'm not going to do that if you're not going to marry me.”

“I've never been kissed.”

“When I was 16, I had a girlfriend and we used to kiss. When I got a little older, I saw what a mistake that was, but I've not had anyone in my life since I came to Christ.”

Reagan's face told Cash she was thinking again. Thankfully, she wasn't long in saying what it was.

“Kissing leads to other things.”

Even though his head still hurt, Cash had to laugh. She was always such a surprise.

“Well, doesn't it?”

“Yes, it certainly can—it never has for me—but even talking about it can lead to temptation, so I think the two of us had better get back on the trail.”

Cash came awkwardly to his feet, and Reagan touched his arm.

“How is your head?”

“It hurts, but my heart knows I'm not in love alone, and that's enough to make me ignore the pain.”

Reagan smiled. She was not a woman who dreamed about a man falling for her and telling her how he felt, but if she were, this would not be what she imagined.

You've been fighting this for years, Reagan girl—it's the least you deserve.

The two made their way down the hill to the horses and then very slowly back to the ranch. Reagan kept a close eye on Cash, but he didn't look as if he was going to pass out as she feared. She offered to go for someone to help with the horses, knowing she was useless in the barn, and Cash accepted. One of the hands, looking very pleased to be following Reagan, came in a hurry and offered to help Cash to the house as well.

Cash said he could handle it but was glad to get to the living room.

“If this isn't the worst,” he commented quietly as he dropped onto the sofa.

“What's that?” Reagan asked. She had remained close by, hoping for a bit more conversation.

“Finding out you love me and having a headache all at the same time.”

Reagan smiled. She had never heard him sound so disgruntled.

“Should I go for the doctor?” Reagan asked, making herself be practical.

“I don't think so.”

This was no more than said when they both heard the bunkhouse cook coming through the kitchen. Max had come to see Katy on occasion, but Reagan had never had much interaction with him.