Black Hills

You’re taking the path of stupid, so get off of it. A handful of years and a skin color aren’t reasons to turn away from someone you care about, and who cares about you.”
    “People who say skin color doesn’t matter are usually white.”
    “Well, ow right back at you.”
    “I mean it, Lil. Mixed relationships are still difficult in a lot of the world.”
    “News flash. Relationships are still difficult in all of the world.”
    “Exactly. So why add layers to the difficulty?”
    “Because love’s precious. That part’s simple. It’s getting it and keeping it that’s hard. You’ve never been in a serious relationship.”
    “Not fair. I was with Thomas for more than a year.”
    “You liked, respected, and lusted for each other. You spoke the same language, but you were never serious, Tansy. Not this-is-the-one sort of serious. I know what it’s like to be with a nice guy you’re comfortable with and never think of him as the one. And I know what it’s like to know the one. I had that with Coop, and he broke my heart. Still, I’d rather have my heart broken than never look and know.”
    “You say that, but you’re not the only one with theories. Mine is you’ve never gotten over him.”
    “No, I never have.”
    Tansy lifted her hands. “How can you handle it?”
    “I’m still figuring that out. The bad day was, apparently, a day for a shift in status. He brought me chicken and dumplings. And he kissed me. It’s not a buzz with me, Tansy. It’s a flood, that pours in and fills me up.” She laid a hand on her heart, rubbed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. If I sleep with him again, will it help me tread water until I can finally get to solid ground? Or will it just take me under? I don’t know, but I’m not going to pretend the odds aren’t strong that I’ll be finding out.”
    Steadier for having said it out loud, Lil set her mug down, smiled. “I’ve got a powerful yen for him.”
    “You’re—what was your word? Unwrapped. You’re unwrapped over the man who walked away from you and broke your heart. And I’m unwrapped over a farmhand with a rubber-band grin.”
    “And we’re the smart girls.”
    “Yeah. We’re the smart girls,” Tansy agreed. “Even when we’re idiots.”
     
     
     
    COOP WORKED WITH the pretty buckskin mare he’d trained over the winter. She had, in his estimation, a sweet heart, a strong back, and a lazy disposition. She’d be happy to snooze in the stall, paddock, or field most of the day. She’d go if you insisted, if she was sure you really meant it.
    She didn’t nip, she didn’t kick, and she would eat an apple out of your hand with a polite delicacy that was undeniably female.
    He thought she’d do well with children. He named her Little Sis.
    Business was slow in these last stubborn weeks of bitter winter. It gave him time—too much of it—to catch up on paperwork, clean the stalls, organize his new home.
    And think about Lil.
    He knew she had her hands full. Word got back to him through his grandparents—from her parents, from Farley, from Gull.
    She’d come by once, he’d heard, to return his grandmother’s dish, and visit awhile. And she’d come by when he’d been in town, doing a stint in the storefront office.
    He wondered if that had been accident or design on her part.
    He’d given her space, but he was about done with that now. Those loose ends were still dangling. The time was coming to knot them off.
    He started to walk Little Sis toward the barn. “You worked good today,” he told her. “We’ll get you brushed down, and maybe there’ll be an apple in it for you.”
    He’d have sworn her ears twitched at the word “apple.” Just as he’d have sworn he heard her sigh when he changed direction and steered her toward the house when he saw the county sheriff step out of the back door.
    “That’s a pretty girl.”
    “She is.”
    Standing, legs spread, Willy squinted up at the sky. “The way the weather’s clearing up, you’ll have her and the rest under the tourists and on the trails before long.”
    Coop had to smile. “This is one of the few places I know where eighteen inches of snowpack and drifts taller than me would be considered clearing up, weather-wise.”
    “Yeah, haven’t gotten anything falling since the last storm. Clearing up. Spare me a minute, Coop?”
    “Sure.” Coop dismounted, looped the mare’s reins around the porch rail. Hardly necessary, he thought. She wouldn’t go