Morning ride
1083 Words
*Callista*
I lie in the massive oak bed and listen for my husband’s footsteps. Several minutes past midnight, I finally hear them on the stairs. I follow the sound along the hallway until I hear him stop outside my door. I hold my breath, waiting for the click of the turning doorknob, the echo that would announce he is coming to claim me as his mate.
But all I hear is the fading tread of his boots as he walks away.
I roll to my side and watch as the shadows play around the room. My room.
I wonder how long he will give me before he insists on making it ‘our’ room.
I sleep fitfully through the night and finally crawl from the bed in the early hours of the morning to prepare myself for my first ride on a horse. It is then, in the quietness before dawn, that I notice the many things I overlooked last night before.
I wash my face using the water that fills the heavy oak washstand. I gaze at my reflection in the oval mirror that hangs on the wall. I imagine Chase usually shaves here. His shaving equipment rests on a small table beside the washstand. I don’t think he shaves often though. His beard was thick but well kept.
Using one of the two towels he has set beside the washstand, I pat the moisture from my face. Then I walk to the mirrored dresser, sit in the straight-backed chair, and unravel my braid.
On the dresser, he has placed a small bottle of bay rum. My brothers often douse themselves with it, yet it has smelled different on Chase’s tanned skin. He owns this ranch, but I don’t think he spends nearly as much time in his office as my father does. Chase’s features are too tan, too weathered.
I sweep up my hair, then quickly don my red riding habit. I have only worn it once. The day Mimi Halfmoon had delivered it to me, a gift from Riley in hopes he could convince our father to let me ride. I had admired the she-wolf for traveling to the ranch, unescorted, in a buggy. I had envied the she-wolf the freedom she had to come and go as she pleased because she was not shackled to a man.
I had asked my father if perhaps I could do the same, but he had forbidden me to travel unescorted, as though he didn’t quite trust me to return. No one had found the time to escort me to town after the day Chase had set aside the land.
I had devoted so many years to caring for my mother that staying at home had become a way of life that I had seldom questioned. I had grown up with my father’s adage, ‘A she-wolf’s place is in the home, tending her pack.’
I jump at the rapid-fire knock. Taking a deep breath, I cross the room and open the door. I am struck once again with the handsome shape of Chase’s chiseled features. His gaze slowly travels from the top of my hat to the tips of my toes.
“We need to go,” he says in a voice that sounds as though he is strangling.
I follow him down the stairs and into the early morning darkness. He has tethered two horses to the front veranda.
"This is Beauty," Chase says as he places his hand on the mare's chestnut rump. "She's about as docile a horse as you'll ever find. Pull back on the reins to stop her. Give her a gentle nudge in the sides to make her go. For the most part, she will just follow my horse."
"Sounds easy enough," I say.
Chase looks at me and squints. "You have really never ridden?" he asks as though he thinks he had misunderstood me last night.
I shake my head. "My father considered it unseemly and dangerous for a she-wolf to ride a horse."
He walks backward until he stands by the horse's shoulder. "You just grab the saddle horn, put a foot in the stirrup, pull up, and swing your other leg over."
Although I am tall, I still find the horn to be exceptionally high as I wrap my hands around it. Chase grabs the stirrup and holds it steady after my foot misses it twice. I slip my booted foot into the stirrup, take a deep breath, and bounce up. Chase grabs my waist with one hand, presses his other hand to my backside, and hoists me over. Heat flaming my cheeks, I settle into the saddle. No one has ever touched me so intimately.
As the horse shies to the side, I dig my fingers into the saddle horn. Chase grabs the bridle, and the horse calms.
"Take these," he says, holding the reins up to me.
I stare at the strips of leather threaded through his fingers. Long fingers that had easily spanned half my waist. I reach out and take the reins. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me," he grumbles as he stalks around to his horse and mounts in one fluid movement. "Come on. Give Beauty a gentle kick."
I do as he instructs, and Beauty follows Chase's horse at a slow pace. I wonder how it would feel to gallop across the plains, the wind blowing in my face. I can feel the breeze now, just a slight breath over my cheeks.
The man riding beside me looks as though he has been born to the saddle, as though he and his horse are one.
I glance around, expecting others to join us. "Where's the escort?"
Chase stares at me. "What escort?"
"My father always insisted that I travel with at least six men to guard me. I just assumed your men..."
"I can protect what's mine," he says in a taut voice.
He doesn't have to move his hand to the gun resting along his thigh or the rifle housed in his saddle to convince me that he speaks truthfully.
"What... what is your horse's name?" I ask.
"Satan."
The devil rides black Satan. It somehow seems appropriate.
"I had a devil of a time breaking him," Chase explains. "In the end, I had to let Wade handle him."
"You sound disappointed."
He shrugs. "That's where Wade's talent lies, taming horses."
"What is your talent?" I ask.
He holds my gaze. "I build empires."
- Writer
