Her days began with chores: feeding horses, bringing in the orphaned calves that needed bottle fed, and cleaning stalls. After that there was making breakfast for her aunt, uncle, Jesse and Clay. Slowly, she had taken over the task of cooking for everyone and found herself enjoying the job a great deal. The simple pleasure she found standing in front of the stove and mixing ingredients surprised her, and began to give her life the sweet shape of routine. She worked on creating new recipes in the evenings, then in the mornings she put together ingredients lists and drove the twenty miles to the store. Her aunt was more than happy to give most of the kitchen duties to Lenora, though she still helped in the evenings. Lenora found herself enjoying the time spent with her aunt as the sun settled in the west, and they prepared dinner together.
One such evening, Annie was pulling scalloped potatoes out of the oven. It was Friday and the day had been especially cold and windy. Lenora had decided the men needed hearty food. She was grating beets to add to the salad when she found herself humming. Annie set the casserole dish on the counter to cool and turned to Lenora, enfolding her in her hay-scented sweater.
“It’s good to see some color in your cheeks,” Annie said.
Lenora looked up to see her aunt’s eyes alive with the shine of unshed tears and realized how much she was starting to feel like herself.
“I think I like the mountains,” Lenora replied.
She could not say anything else. She could not find the words to describe the late night ride into the starry hills with Clay, or the strawberry and orange sunrises when she woke. She could not explain how the walk to the corral with dew dampening her boots and the horses there to greet her with hungry nickers made her feel. There was fear that if she put into words the joy she felt creating a recipe for the new people in her life, somehow some of the magic would fade. She did not quite trust herself to speak of these things yet. If she tried to explain them and search for the words, she was scared that these basic joys would flee and leave her once again alone, with no way to move towards the new and stronger person she wished to become.
There, in fact, lay the whole core of the issue; she now wanted to grow stronger and find a way forward. Before her move west, she could not even imagine herself becoming something after her mother’s death and the sudden end to her marriage. This, of course, embarrassed her; to confess she could not see herself without her mother or a husband, even if he was a rotten one. What kind of independent woman admitted this? Perhaps, in part it was because she and her mother had been so close; there had never been a father in her life to bridge the gap between the outside world and the one her mother had built for just the two of them. Perhaps she would have been the same either way. Perhaps she would have been empty and lost no matter her relationship with her paternal father. Regardless, she was here now; and she would grow slowly and let the pain be a little less every day.
The men came in and washed up at the sink as Lenora finished the beets. Her aunt set out stacks of dishes for the men to carry with them on their way to the table. Clay came up beside Lenora, smiling in what she almost thought was a shy way. She felt her palms grow sweaty and she hoped the warmth on her neck was not a flush. Was this man really flirting with her?
“Can I carry the salad out?” Clay asked, and before Lenora could respond he continued, “Are there beets in it?”
Lenora found herself looking up into his eyes and having a hard time forming an answer.
“Yes,” she said, finally.
She was going crazy out here in the wilds. Just because the first man who had paid attention to her in a long while was cute, a cowboy, and sat a horse like he had been born on one, did not mean she had to go all soft in the head. She quickly looked away from his eyes and promised herself she would not go night riding with him anymore. Right, she thought.
After the hearty meal, her aunt supervised the cleanup. Lenora had been banned from the kitchen after dinner, and so she stepped out on the porch to write in her journal in the growing duskiness. The breeze in the pines next to the house was hypnotic and almost like waves on the beach. Taking a deep breath, she could taste the tang of sap from the awakening trees. She felt him approach, lifting her head as he sat next to her on the porch swing.
He did not look at her for a minute, and she let the silence lay between them without the disturbance of a ripple on its perfect surface.
“Do you want to ride with me up to Bear Peak tonight? The moon is almost full. And, well, the weather is perfect,” Clay said. She imagined his voice sounded hopeful.
She let the question stand in front of them, quivering a little in the fading light. He was doing more than befriending her; she could feel the air between them textured with curiosity and, maybe, a strand of desire soft and wispy like the smell of honeysuckle in late June. She looked out into the night and imagined riding through the darkness, which would suddenly seem less dark as they left the artificial lights of the ranch and moved into the silent night of the mountains. The air would be soft and laced with the warming sap of red pines.
“Yes.” The word felt seductive as it left her lips, and she could not help but glance at him. He was watching her and his eyes were shadowed. She thought she saw a glint of something that made her stomach tighten low down and a thrill like she had not felt in a long time run through her body.
“I’ll saddle your horse if you want to go change? It might be a little colder up there.” Clay laced his fingers together and looked at his hands.
“Thank you. Yeah, I’ll go now,” Lenora said.
She stood and he did as well, and they were suddenly very close. Lenora wished she could think of something funny to say but her mind was already galloping away on Major. She turned and went into the house, and, when she looked behind her, he had disappeared into the near darkness.
She put on a thick flannel and tights under her jeans, and then her jacket and a scarf for her neck. She was glad she did not encounter her aunt or uncle as she left the house and did not have to explain her night ride with the cowboy. Outside, the moon was just starting to rise, its shoulders hunched large on the horizon, and a jolt of pure joy shot through her so quickly that she was taken by surprise at its intensity. She was alive. She breathed in and out. It was wonderful to see life again as an adventure, and not this horrible thing to be constantly watched and feared and worried over.
He was waiting for her with Major and his mare, Moon, by the gate to the corral. She could not help but like the way he looked standing there with two horses, his head slightly bowed as he adjusted the stirrups on her saddle. Major stood close to him perfectly calm and she liked this too; how her horse was relaxed with this man, the way she had noticed that all horses were. The air smelled fresh, as if things were beginning to grow. She realized spring would give way to summer, and then who knew the crazy way she might feel?
He smiled at her and she saw his eyes were anything but tame— full of horses and the wildness of the mountains. She felt a tingle run through her thighs, making her want nothing more than to ride into the complete wildness of the dark night and leave behind any worry, fear or thought from the past. She would surrender to the night and this man, letting the darkness and peace of the mountains remake her in the process. She stepped up to the three of them her mind awakened by the cool spring air. Clay handed her Major’s reins and held the horse’s bridle while she mounted. Then he rested his hand very lightly on her thigh and looked up at her where she sat astride her horse. The starlight and the coolness of the moon bathed his face. She abruptly realized that this man saw her, really saw her. It was disconcerting, frightening even, and yet the most exhilarating rush of pleasure flowed through her body.
She could not explain how this stranger, from a different way of life and from a very different culture, could possibly know her, when she herself often felt confused by her own emotions, fears and mixed desires.
His voice was intimate when he spoke, and his hand still rested firm but light as bird wings on her thigh.
“I’m glad you want to come out with me. There’s something special about riding at night,” he said. “At least, I’ve always thought so.”
She looked down at him, feeling warmth flood up from where his hand rested on her leg, and smiled as best she could.
“Yes. I feel it here,” Lenora said. She touched her heart.
He mounted his mare, and they rode out of the ranch gate and into the great vastness of the mountains, lining the horizon with dark edges.
The trail wound up and up. They stopped twice to let the horses breathe; speaking quietly, as if the silence of the night should not be disturbed by human voices. He told her a little about his upbringing, which had occurred not too far from the mountains in which they now rode. She in turn told him some about her life before her mother had died. They talked of childhood and its mystery as it flees in front of adulthood. He sat loose and relaxed in the saddle, and she watched him when he rode in front of her. Major was well behaved, not shying at shadows like he often did. She thought the move out west had been good for him as well, forcing him to give up some of his spoiled habits of being spooky and temperamenta. She wondered if perhaps those habits had been from boredom and lack of exercise and perhaps even from lack of adventure. Horses needed adventure just like humans, and Major was an Arabian, a breed of horse known for their intelligence and bravery. This was the adventure they had both needed.
The trail was long and wound through pine forests and the silvery trunks of aspen. When they finally neared the top, the trees gave way to barren rock and loose sage mapped the ground beneath their horses’ feet. The stars were so brilliant. Lenora felt her breath catch in her throat as the tail of a shooting star arced across the dark dome overhead, almost as if the night sky were saying hello to them as they reached the peak of the mountain. To be sure, this was not the tallest peak, but it did rise by itself, and, though it was low and less jagged than the others to the north and east, it had a quiet splendor about it. Lenora felt herself smiling as she imagined the mountain welcoming them to traverse its quiet sides in the peace of the night.
“What do you think?” Clay said.
“It’s so beautiful.” Lenora did not know what else to say.
“I thought you would like it. You know, not everyone appreciates the beauty of this place. The… the grandeur of it,” Clay said.
“That’s funny because that’s how I pictured the mountain. You know? As grand somehow. Just like it’s this special being or something,” she trailed off feeling silly.
He laughed and she smiled a little.
He was looking at her, and she felt her stomach quiver. She could not read his face in the darkness, but she imagined, or maybe felt, some tingle of hot desire moving between the space separating their horses. What was she doing up on this mountain with the man who helped her aunt and uncle with everything they did at the ranch? Why must she automatically think that it would end badly, when it had not even started yet?
Then Clay was off his horse, letting the reins slip from his fingers, and she felt his hands on her waist. He was looking up at her, and the frantic swirl of thoughts and worries in her head stopped. Lenora felt shock going through her sides and mind. She realized he did want her.
He was pulling her off her horse, and she let him.
“I can’t kiss you up there. And I can’t wait any longer, with you staring at me with those huge doe-eyes,” Clay said.
“Sorry,” Lenora said.
“Don’t ever be sorry for being you.” His voice was low, his words meant for her ears alone.
She did not know what else to say, and she could not think straight with his hands on her waist. Once Lenora was secure on the ground, Clay bent his head towards hers and she could feel all the long leanness of him against her. Her mind was blank, and the stars and thin air were not helping. He was kissing her so gently she felt herself relax, but even this was deadly. She found her mouth opening and she wanted him to possess her. She pressed back against him and felt his tongue tease her tongue. He was gentle, letting her lead him. His fingers moved from her waist up her back, and he soon was tangled in her hair. He did not seem to want to stop, and she could not ever remember a first kiss that had lasted so long or was so deep. He pulled away and she could breathe, but he only wanted to kiss her neck and her jaw. His lips were fire, or maybe water, she felt herself losing ground under them, losing herself to this delight.
“You smell like jasmine,” he whispered in her ear.
His tongue flicked across her collarbone, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep her footing.
“Do you know what jasmine smells like?” She said.
Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears, but she was proud of herself for being able to speak coherently. He laughed and pulled back while still keeping his hands on her.
“No, not a clue. But, I imagine it would smell the way you do tonight,” He said.
She smiled at him and decided that even though she did not really know this man, she would trust him. How could she not, the horses trusted him.
“I didn’t mean to grab you like that, Lenora. You looked so lovely in the starlight, and I’ve wanted to give you a little kiss for a while now. I didn’t think it would be that kind of kiss to begin with but I guess…” he trailed off.
“It’s okay. I liked it. If you couldn’t tell,” Lenora said.
Clay pulled her to his chest and she rested her head against his shoulder. He smelled wonderful; not of jasmine, but of horses and pine trees and maybe some saddle soap. Had she ever known a man to smell so delightful? Never. The men in her life before smelled like Armani; artificial.
“You know the first day you pulled in I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought, ‘who is this goddess driving a truck and trailer? And she just changed a flat tire? What can’t this girl do? Is it crazy that I’m so attracted to a girl because she drives a truck, rides a horse and looks amazing while doing it?’” Clay said.
He was laughing and Lenora found herself laughing too. Then he bent his head and nuzzled at her lips with his, barely brushing them. Her panties were wet and her legs weak. This man had done something crazy to her, and she blamed the stars and the mountain as well. Best wingmen a guy could ask for, she thought. Even Major had helped. She felt her hands wander up his chest, enjoying the play of muscles. She knew she could not wait to get his shirt off and feel his skin under her fingertips. For now, though, she just twisted her fingers in his hair and kissed him, letting his hand press the small of her back into the whole strength of him.