“Hmm.” Casey cast her an indecipherable look. “I like you better as the proud daughter of a housekeeper.”
“Well, I’m more complicated than that,” she retorted. Chances were, he was more complicated than he was letting on, too, but she wasn’t expecting him to open up.
Casey chuckled softly. “All right, all right.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Casey.”
Everyone, including her. And mistakes couldn’t be undone. That was the problem with too many of them—they were so final. Would her son resent her decision, too? Would she ever be able to admit why she gave him up? At the age of twenty, everything seemed a whole lot more dire than it did now. But then, she now had an education, a career, a home... Things were more dire back then.
They came up the last of the incline, a few pebbles clattering down the hill behind them, and Casey reined his horse in. He dismounted, in one smooth motion, then came around his horse toward her.
“You aren’t what I expected,” he said quietly.
She smiled slightly and sighed. No one ever was. She’d learned that when she counseled families. Under all the mistakes and external shells lay soft, vulnerable human beings.
“You want to dismount, or stay where you are?” he asked after a moment of silence.
Her muscles were already strained and sore from the position they’d been holding the last little while. Getting down and walking around for a bit sounded good, but she looked at the ground uncertainly. It was a long drop, and there was no handy wooden box out here.
“I don’t know...” she said.
“Come on.” He held a hand aloft. “I’ll help you down.”
“But how will I get back up again?” she asked with a breathy laugh.
“I’ll get you up there.” He eyed her, squinting slightly in the sunlight, and her heart sped up just a little bit. She looked around them, her gaze moving over the rolling hills, the rocky stretches...feeling just how alone they were out here.
“How do I do this?” she asked at last.
“Take your other foot out of the stirrup, and stand up on this leg.” She felt his hand tap her ankle. “Patience can take it. She’s fine. So all your weight—this leg.”
Ember did as he said and swung her leg back over the saddle. It was a long way down, and as she started her descent, her stomach leaped to her throat. She landed in a strong pair of arms before her boot hit the ground, and the air squeezed out of her lungs.
Casey was stronger than she’d thought, because he supported the full weight of her while she got her feet back underneath her, and boosted her back into balance. For a moment, she felt his strong chest against her back, and the steady pounding of his heart thudded slow and steady. Then she was upright again, and he stepped away.
“That wasn’t graceful,” she breathed.
“Not at all,” he said with a short laugh, and when she turned, he raised his hands. “Hey, who says you have to be graceful all the time, huh?”
Casey went to his saddlebag and pulled out a hammer, a plastic bag of what appeared to be nails and a pair of work gloves.
“Look, I don’t mean to insult your father,” Casey said and cleared his throat. “There have been some pretty serious consequences to his success around here, so I’m not going to pretend I like what he’s done, but I can understand that he’s your dad, and you’re going to have a different experience of him.”
“Thank you.”
“Still, you’ve got to understand that while your father got richer, a lot of us lost our family’s legacies. So.” He shrugged, then turned away. “I’m going to fix the latch on the gate.”
Casey headed past the horses and down another incline toward the fence. Most of it was barbed wire, but in the center was a tall wooden gate that swung loose in the wind, the hinges creaking. Ember watched as he worked on the broken latch for a few minutes. He was silent, but in the wide outdoors, constant speaking didn’t seem necessary. It was companionable, and she realized that she liked Casey’s company. Casey finished with the gate, then tested it a couple of times before ambling back to his horse to replace the tools in his saddlebag.
“Where’s Milk River?” she asked.
“Come here.” Casey went to the fence again and waited while she made her way down the rocky terrain. He pulled off his work gloves, then nudged his hat up higher on his forehead as she reached his side. He smelled musky and warm, and even a few inches away from him she was aware of just how tall he was. “See down there—” He leaned a little closer so that she could follow his pointing arm. “Past the trees, there’s a glittery patch—”
Ember looked the direction he pointed, and she spotted the glitter he was referring to.
“I see it.”
“That’s water. The trees grow by the bank, and it’s dug its way down pretty deep over the years, so the banks are steep and high over there. But that’s Milk River.”
Somehow, it seemed less impressive than she’d built it up to be in her head, and she let out a pent-up breath. “Oh.”
Casey paused, tensed, his gaze still locked in the same place. He didn’t move, and Ember looked up at him hesitantly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’m staring at a wolf right now.” His voice was calm—too calm for her comfort—and he slowly turned, scanning the landscape. “I only see one right now. The others might be hiding, or it could be a lone scout. Either way, we’re moving out.”
Ember squinted, looking in the direction he was, and then she saw it—a tuft of gray on the other side of that glitter of water. It stood tall and motionless, then turned and paced
