Page 48 of Burnin' For You
Or maybe she was just resting. He paused, dug out a water bottle, and offered it to her.
Reuben thought through his response and found one that didn’t dig out his regrets, his bitterness with it. “Remember how I told you that I broke both legs when the plane crashed?”
She wiped her mouth, nodded.
“Well, I was doing most of the work on the ranch at the time with Dad. I had a few colleges lined up to play ball at, but I was thinking I’d stick around, help run the ranch, maybe take it over someday. But that winter, because I was confined to a bed or a wheelchair, my brother Knox stepped in. He’s only fourteen months younger than I am and has a good head for numbers, was a straight-A student.” He took back the water bottle, took a chug.
“I wasn’t. I played football. And I was pretty good at roping cattle, herding, branding, and generally the grunt stuff any hand could manage. It was that winter that I realized, as I saw Knox and Dad spend more and more time together, as Dad explained the working of the ranch books, holdings, and finances to Knox, that he wanted Knox to take over.”
He put the water bottle back into the pack, took a breath to shake out the acid forming in his chest. Affected a smile. “It didn’t really sink in until later, but when it did, I realized there was no room for me at the ranch—at least not at the helm. And I didn’t want to play second fiddle to my younger brother. So—I did the next best thing.”
“Smokejumping?”
“Bull riding.”
She frowned at him, but then she pushed off the tree, started out again.
He looked away, not able to bear the way she shuffled along.
“The thing is, my dad didn’t stop me from leaving. I sort of hoped he would—that he’d tell me we’d run the ranch together, all three of us, that I might not be as smart as Knox, but I had what it took to get it done. But he didn’t. He stayed silent, walked me out to the truck, told me to keep in touch. Let me drive away without a word.”
He couldn’t voice the rest, but clearly the success of the ranch had meant more to his dad than working with his eldest son.
He shook the thought away lest it burn a hole through him.
“I started hiring myself out as a cowhand, bull riding on the weekends, and that’s where I met Miles. He was also a rodeoer, but he said during the summer he worked with the Jude County Hotshots. It sounded like good, hard work, something I could do, so I came up to Ember, met Jock, and signed on. Two summers later, I tried out to be a smokejumper.”
He nearly reached out again when she tripped, but he held back.
She steadied herself on a tree.
Okay, that was enough. “Really, Gilly, let me—”
“I can do this! I’m fine. I just need to rest. I—” She stopped, hung her head. “I’m sorry.”
He stood there, nonplussed. “For what?”
“For being weak!” She rounded, her eyes flashing. “For demanding I go along—I’m just slowing us down, and CJ and Jed need us to go faster!”
He couldn’t argue with that. But he wanted to, seeing the agony in her expression.
“I just—I hate it when women can’t keep up. Or act—”
“Like the weaker sex?”
“Yes! My sisters run a cupcake shop, for Pete’s sake. Can you get any more…sweet?”
“What’s wrong with sweet? I love Hot Cakes,” he said.
She looked up at him, her jaw tight. “Of course you do. You can’t see the…embarrassment.”
“I see hard work. And two businesswomen who are getting it done.”
She stared at him, frowning. Then shook her head, starting off again. This time she didn’t bother to hold back her grunts as she walked.
A part of him turned to agony with every little sound she made.
She kept talking, and he didn’t miss the strain in her voice. “They want me to join them.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine me—baking? I nearly burned the place down this morning.”