Trusting her with everything
1040 Words
*Callista*
I wake up with a start, a faint glimmer of sunlight shadowing the room. I pull the blankets up to my chin, trying to remember when I came to bed.
Chase had been in my room. Somehow, I'm certain of it. His presence lingers like a forgotten scent. Did he bring me to bed and then leave me alone to sleep?
I think I might never understand him.
He wanted a mate to give him a son, and yet, with the exception of our first night, he has made no overtures toward me. I wonder if he regrets marrying me, if perhaps he will never truly become my husband.
I ease out of bed, walk to the balcony doors, and draw the curtain aside. I can see Chase standing by the corral talking with his foreman. When Slim walks away, Chase mounts his black horse and looks up. His gaze locks with mine.
My breath catches and my heart pounds. His mouth moves, forming words I can’t hear.
I unlatch the door and step onto the balcony. “What?” I ask.
“Get dressed to ride!” He calls.
“Now?” I ask.
He nods. “Yep.”
As he dismounts, I hurry back into my room, close the balcony door, draw the curtains together, and wish I had never ventured from my bed.
*Chase*
I'm not sure what possessed me to invite Callista to ride with me, although I have to admit she probably didn't consider my words an invitation.
It's not in my nature to ask. Perhaps it was when I was a boy, but the war drove that out of me. At fourteen, I issued my first order. When the war ended, I continued to issue orders. It's the easiest way to get things done. Tell a man what you expect of him. If he doesn't like it, he can move on.
Unfortunately for Callista, if she doesn't like the way I issue orders, she doesn't have the freedom to move on. A marriage contract binds her to me, whether she likes it or not. I do realize it and I do try to soften my ways.
I had hoped we were making progress toward an amicable relationship when she offered to read to me last night, but now she rides beside me, her back as stiff as the rod of a branding iron, her eyes trained straight ahead, and her knuckles turning white as she holds the saddle horn.
The horses plod along as though they have all day to get to where we're going.
"How good are you at keeping your word?" I ask.
She swivels her head toward me, her brow furrowed. "I don’t lie, if that’s what you’re implying."
"My pa taught me that a man is only as good as his word. I have never in my life gone back on my word. I'm just wondering if your pa taught you the same." I say.
*Callista*
I'm at a loss for words. I can't recall my father teaching me much of anything except my place within a man's world, a place I never questioned until discovering it doesn't fit within my world. "I know how to keep a promise," I finally admit. "I suppose it's the same thing."
He nods. "Then I need you to give me a promise."
"What sort of promise?" I ask.
Chase draws his horse to a halt. I do the same. Removing his hat, he captures my gaze.
"I want you to promise that if something should happen to me, you won’t give my land to your brothers." He says sommenly.
"What would happen to you?" I ask.
He gives me a knowing look. "Anything could happen to a man out here. I just don't want your brothers to benefit from my death."
His death? The thought echoes through me. "Why would you die?"
His lips curve into a slight smile. "I'm not planning to. I just want your word that if we have a son, you will hold on to the land and pack for him."
"And if we don’t have a son?" I ask.
"Then hold on to the land and pack for yourself or sell it. Just don’t give it to your brothers." He says.
"I wouldn’t know what to do with the land," I confess.
He looks toward the distant horizon. "Give me your word that you won’t give the land to your brothers, and I will teach you how to manage it."
I sweep my gaze over the land. He's entrusting me with his legacy. I realize that if something did happen to him, I would need to know how to manage the ranch so I could teach our son. I glance at him as he steadfastly watches me. "I could destroy everything you’ve built."
"If he thought there was the slightest chance in hell of that happening, he wouldn’t have made the offer." He tells me.
The force of his words hits me. He trusts me with the empire he's built, trusts me to honor my word, just as I vowed to honor him.
He is giving me the opportunity to level the shaky foundation upon which we have begun to build our marriage. "I give you my word."
A slow smile spreads beneath his beard. "Good."
In the days that follow, I come to know his men and their respective jobs. I had assumed they simply watched the cattle. I couldn't have been more wrong. Wolves constantly run the fence line, mending cut or broken wire, replacing posts. The mill rider visited the windmills to grease the bearings and repair anything broken. Bog riders searched for cattle that had become tangled in the brush or trapped in mud. The numerous types of riders and runners and their various tasks astound me.
It seems everything always needs to be checked and checked again: the fence, the windmills, the cattle, the water supply, the grazing land. Decisions have to be made as to when and where to move the cattle.
By the end of the week, I am overwhelmed with the knowledge I have attained.
I also have a greater respect and understanding of my mate and his achievements.
- Writer
