Jillian Hart: The Horseman

“Goodness, you look pale, dear. I’ll fetch you a cup of hot tea. That should help cure what ails you.”

It was a lovely thought, that something as common and as ordinary as tea would fix the grief inside her.

Her gaze naturally followed him through the window. He yanked on the tether line to make sure it was good and tight, then slipped pieces of peppermint from his coat pocket and let the horses lip the treat from his gloved hands.

He turned, his attention on someone just out of sight. A group of women stood in a small circle, blocking whoever it was Dillon was talking to from Katelyn’s sight. Wait, the women were moving. Dillon reached out for something…

A baby. Mariah’s baby boy was wrapped in green today. His thick coat and cap and mittens were so small, so dear. Mariah waited, looking pleased with Dillon’s obvious compliments, as he cradled the little one, held him close and blew kisses on his plump forehead.

What a good father he would be. Katelyn had felt his silent longing when he’d held the infant. Because a part of her heart would always be his. Her last hope died as quietly and as surely as a single snowflake in sunshine. Melting without protest. Because it was inevitable.

Dillon should be a father. He had the right to hold his son one day. She would not stand in his way. She did not want him to live his life alone, without the large family he obviously desired.

The one she could never give him.

The seamstress returned with the tea, and Katelyn sipped it dutifully. She watched as Dillon handed the baby back to Mariah, said goodbye and tromped off across the busy road, cutting between vehicles as he went, until he was out of sight.

Everywhere she looked, she saw children. A toddler cried, “Mine! Mine!” somewhere in the store. Children who were too young for school raced down the boardwalk, escaping from their mother who charged after them. Babies held tight in their mother’s arms.

Did these women know how lucky they were? she wondered. Her arms felt empty without a baby to hold.

As empty as her soul.

Every wonderful thing Dillon did cut like a knife. His generosity. His gallantry. He held every door. Took her hand. Carried her packages. Treated her to a delicious meal at the finest diner in town. He helped her into the sleigh and tucked the robes snug beneath her chin.

The image of him holding Mariah’s baby troubled her. The way he had lit up. How big and strong he looked, cradling that tiny little boy. He wanted one of his own. Anyone could see it.

I wish I could give you a child. She’d sacrifice anything, do anything, to give Dillon what would make him happy. To give him the child he wanted. If only she could.

Just tell him. It plagued her all the way home, as the afternoon sun chased away the stubborn gray clouds. It burdened her as she added wood to the stove and checked on the pot of simmering brown beans.

Maybe it would be all right. She wouldn’t know until she told him. What happened next-whether she left or stayed, was happy or miserable, loved or not wanted-was all in Dillon’s capable hands. It was his choice.

She had to let him make it.

It wasn’t easy opening the door and stepping outside. It was hard to make her feet move forward all the way to the paddock. Her spirits didn’t lift when she saw the man and stallion together, alone. The wild horse trusting Dillon enough to eat peppermint treats from his hand.

Dillon’s low voice calmed the horse and it calmed her heart. She waited, perched on the fence, while Dillon stroked the stallion’s face and head. The animal shied and sidestepped, only to return to the delicious treat and the man’s enchanting touch.

“That’s it, boy, that’s all I have. You ate all of it.” Dillon held up his hands and the stallion backed away, haltingly, unsure. Dillon spied her and headed straight for her. “Katelyn, I’m glad you’re here. His wound is healed, and so I’m letting him go.”

“Back to the wild? But what about the reward for him?”

“It no longer exists.” He braced his forearms on the fence as he stretched over the top rung and claimed her mouth with his. “You know those ten Arabian mares I bought at the sale? The ones Dakota is going to help me drive home from the livery tomorrow? Those were your stepfather’s horses. The ones he paid me to train.”

“ What? He wouldn’t sell those horses.”

“He didn’t. He’s bankrupt, and the bounty on our stallion’s head is nullified. He is no longer in danger.”

She felt relief for the stallion, but sadness, too. “That land was my father’s.”

“Your stepbrother managed to appease the bank. The land is his now. At least it’s still in the family.”

“Good.” Memories flooded her. Of family. Of helping her father build the big ranch house. Of so many good times. But not nearly as treasured as the ones she’d made here with Dillon. Now she had more memories to comfort her when she was alone.

There’s no reason to wait, she realized. She knew how it would end. She may as well handle it with as much dignity as she could. Even if her heart was dying. “It’s good for a man to have a son.”

“Or a daughter. I’m not choosy.” He flashed her that slow, lopsided grin, the one that always made her soul smile in return. “Daughters can inherit land, too. Daughters can learn to train horses.”

She could see his dreams. He wanted to teach a child how to ride a horse and how to handle them. He wanted to pass on the knowledge his grandfather had given him about horses, the land and life. It would make him complete. Make his life come full circle.

“As for this fellow-” he gestured to the stallion that was standing a few feet away, skittish but demanding more candy “-you want to come in and say goodbye?”

“Knowing him has been a privilege.” She climbed through the space between the rungs. The stallion had started the romance between them, that night of the season’s first snow. She remembered how Dillon had defended him, and befriended him and saved him.

Just as he’d done for her.

And he had saved her, she realized. If she hadn’t come here, if she’d chosen to live on her own, then she never would have known this man. The strength of him that could never break. The integrity. The tenderness.

Knowing Dillon had been a gift. One she would treasure always.

“Goodbye, handsome.”

His greatness shone over her like the sun, true and remarkable and, when Dillon opened the gate, that greatness didn’t diminish. It swelled and soared as the animal lifted his head, scented his freedom, neighed a warm trumpeting goodbye and trotted off, free. Leaping fences and crossing meadows until the prairie claimed him as its own.

The greatness, she realized, wasn’t the stallion’s. It was the man beside her.

“You’re looking pale, darlin’. Let me walk you back to the house. Get you lying down.” His hand lit on her shoulder, a tender claiming touch that left her wishing there was a way.

But she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t do that to Dillon, to this wonderful man she loved more than her life.

“Did you have a good time in town today?” he asked as he held the back door for her. “Did you overdo it?”

“No. I enjoyed it, very much.” She took off her wraps and hung them on the peg by the door.

“You didn’t buy hardly anything. I might be a humble horseman, but I can afford to buy my wife what she wants.” He drew her against him, folding his arms around her, cradling her close. “I love you, you know. You weren’t getting a taste of town life and wishing you lived there, were you?”

“No. I have treasured my time with you.” She wanted him to know how she felt. Wanted him to know this great love she had for him was endless.