“I’d rather you change.” She took short, shallow breaths. “That’s ripe.”
“Good thing I didn’t ask you to go.” He waved his hands past his legs, wafting the scent toward her.
She turned on her heel with a gagging sound, leaving the wheelbarrow behind. “Gross.”
His laughter followed her all the way into the barn.
Things between them had changed so much since she’d first come back to Blue River. He’d been sullen at first, and a few times in between. But, things were comfortable and easy in a way she’d never expected. Almost like how she’d felt in that memory. Comfortable enough to put her heart out there andknow that the man beside her would protect it like it was his own.
She kept busy, cleaning up a couple saddles and bridles with the cleaner she’d found, until he arrived in the barn carrying matching tumblers.
His damp hair spiraled out beneath his hat, the ends curling slightly. He brought a fresh scent to the barn, one that tickled the back of her mind with almost memories. “Brought you some coffee.”
“Oh, thanks.” She snatched the silver tumbler from him and took a long sip. “That’s delicious.” Her stomach rumbled a reminder she’d skipped breakfast, and they were well into noon. Eating hadn’t been a priority while her mind remained in such a state. But the worst was over, and her hunger roared back with a vengeance. “So.” She scuffed her toe in the dirt, making small half-moon shapes. “What you said earlier about leaning on faith.”
He winced. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She rushed to reassure him. “You were right. I’ve been trying so hard to make myself remember, even when I said I wouldn’t. I’ve put all that stress on myself because I thought I had to. Like if I didn’t the memories would never come back. I realized while you were gone that every memory has come back when I’ve been relaxed and not trying.”
The admission stung. She’d listened to the doctors, heard their recommendations, but other than coming home, she’d ignored their years of expertise, thinking she knew her own mind better than they ever could.
“Turns out the doctors were right about me. The more I stress, the less likely I am to remember.”
“What are you going to do about that?” He concentrated on his coffee.
She longed to have him look at her the same way as the man in her dream.
“Trust. Patience.” She ticked off each one in her habitual manner. “I feel like I’ve finally reached a place I might never have been before with having faith in God. I’m trying to hold onto that and not let disappointment sway me in another direction.”
It was time she fully committed to God and allowed Him to offer her the guidance she desperately needed. Either she trusted Him, or she didn’t. There was no middle ground.
Chase’s verse made more sense to her with that realization.
He strayed to one of the stalls and patted the mare’s neck. “Let me know when you’re ready for that riding lesson. This is the horse I’d put you on.”
She eyed the mare, taking in the quiet eyes and head that leaned into Chase’s chest. “She’s sweet.” Every time Michelle came into the barn, the mare greeted her. She never tried to rush the feed box or splash water. “I’m ready now.”
His lips twitched. “I’ll get the saddle while you take her out of the stall.”
They spent the next two hours going through every step of how to saddle the mare. Chase had her walk the mare up and down the middle of the barn and around the fenced area where he often put horses when mucking out their stalls. He refused to let her into the saddle until she promised with her hand over her heart that she felt absolutely comfortable being there.
That single moment between putting her weight in the stirrup and swinging into the saddle left her weightless. And settling in the saddle—trusting the mare— reminded her of giving up the weight of her problems to God.
Chapter Twelve
Afull week passed with no new memories. She’d been in Blue River almost a month and barely had a handful of memories to return. What she had was a respect for the entire town, a newfound faith that made every day brighter, and a love for the ranch that drove her from bed before dawn each morning.
She swung into the saddle not long after the sun rose and grinned down at Chase. He’d hovered all morning. Since the moment she asked if she could ride out by herself.
“Are you sure?” He fisted his hat, crushing the brim. “I can ride out with you.”
“Chase.” She put a hint of laughter in his name. “I’m comfortable now, are you? She patted the mare’s slick neck and fiddled with her mane. “Do you doubt my skills or your teaching skills?”
“None of the above.” He slammed his crushed hat on and gripped his belt with both hands.
The gunslinger stance still tickled her funny bone, and her smile grew wider.
“What?” He grumbled and fussed without much heat to his words.
