âDrew? Honey? You love me, donât you?â Gabrielle asked.
ââCourse I do,â he said, a little rougher than heâd intended.
âWhen you proposed to me, you said you wanted us to have a family. A big one. You meant it, didnât you?â she persisted.
Drew had nothing to go on now but blind faith, because sheâd already left him, and if not for the concussion, Gabrielle wouldnât be here now, in his arms, asking him to help her make a baby.
Blind faith.
Lord, he prayed silently, Youâve got to help me out here, âcause Iâm skatinâ on thin ice.
Gabrielle leaned in close to the horseâs neck, her hair rippling behind her like a cinnamony cape. âCâmon, Triumph,â she said, snapping the reins, âgive me all youâve got.â The animalâs response told her heâd missed their morning runs every bit as much as she had.
Since leaving Drew just over nine months ago, her visits to the Walking C had been rare. If not for love of Triumphâand ridingâGabrielle didnât think sheâd have come back to the ranch.
Ever.
Pounding hooves drummed in harmony to her fast-beating heart. It reminded her of the perfectly syncopated rhythm of parade drums, and she relished each rib-thumping pulsation. The more rigorous and rapid the ride, the more free she felt. If only she could find this kind of freedom on her own two feet.
True to his nature, Drew had not used Triumph to punish her for filing the separation papers. âYouâre welcome to come back and ride him any time,â heâd said in his quiet, controlled way. âI promise to make myself scarce when you do.â
Thankfully, heâd usually kept his word. Whether the dust cloud raised when her compact car chugged up the drive was his signal to disappear, or whether one of the hired hands had warned him of her arrival, Gabrielle didnât know.
But heâd received no such notice of her approach today; if he had, they both would have been spared that awkward, cheek-reddening scene in the barn.
Gabrielle tightened her hold on the reins. âYouâd think he wouldâve adjusted to the separation by now,â she said into the wind. Triumphâs caramel-colored ears swiveled back at the sound of her voice, but she barely noticed. Gabrielle was far too busy remembering the expressions that flitted across her soon-to-be ex-husbandâs face when he looked up from his work and saw her standing in the doorway, bit in one hand, bridle in the other. His whole face lit up with a smile, exactly the way it used to when she carried a glass of lemonade or a sandwich into the barn and insisted he take a much-deserved break. âYouâd work straight through from dawn âtil dark if I didnât insist you stop now and then.â If she had a dollar for every time sheâd said thatâ¦
That bewildered, little-boy-lost expression had replaced his happy-to-see-her smile. Whoâs seeing to it he gets enough rest now that youâre gone? she wondered.
Guilt coursed through her. Without her, it was a sure bet no one was making sure that Drew ate well, that his shirts were pressed, that he rested enough. And even if someone tried, Gabrielle acknowledged, it wasnât likely that mule-headed man would listen. If he worked himself into an early grave, it was none of her concern. Butâ¦who was going to stop him from doing just that, now that she was gone? Sheâd felt partly to blame for that, just as she felt responsible for the dark stare that replaced his bright smile once his memory kicked in and he realized she was there to ride his horseânot to see him.
Sensing his mistressâs tension, Triumph snorted.
âSorry, boy. Itâs okay.â As though he understood her soft, soothing words, the horse ran a bit faster over the tattered trail, ran at a pace that reminded Gabrielle of the way things had started up between her and Drewâ¦.
A year ago Mayâthree short months after meeting himâsheâd agreed to become his wife. Heâd seemed so sure of himself, saying heâd prayed on it, saying he felt the Lord wanted the two of them together, forever. Gabrielle hadnât even thought to ask Godâs opinion on the subject of marriage; sheâd never asked His counsel before.