A Groom For Gwen. Jeanne Allan
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fence and grabbed the top bar with her hands, then leaned back the length of her arms. “Why don’t you say what you’re really thinking? What everybody around here thinks. That I’m an idiot for leaving a perfectly good, high-paying job for some fantasy which exists only in Hollywood. You think I have no more business out here on a ranch than that horse would have trying to tap dance on Broadway.” She pulled herself up to the fence and pushed back again. “You think I bought these stupid cowgirl clothes and moved out here in the middle of nowhere and I don’t have a clue what to do.”
Gwen kicked at the dirt with the toe of her boot. “Well, you’re right. I don’t have a clue, but I’m not stupid. I intend to learn. Crissie is going to have what I never had—a stable childhood, roots.”
“A white picket fence,” he said with sarcasm. “I don’t see what’s so stable about leaving a high-paying job for the uncertainties of ranching.”
She owed him no explanation, but she gave one anyway. “I’ve always been good with numbers, so going into accounting was a logical move for me. There will always be taxes, which means stable employment. It’s long hours of computer time and paperwork, but I didn’t mind until I had Crissie. During the height of tax season I worked from seven in the morning until ten or eleven at night. That’s no way to bring up a child. I knew I had to quit the accounting firm, but I didn’t know what I’d do. Then Bert died and left me his ranch. Here, even if I have to keep long hours, I’ll have Crissie at my side. That’s important to me. And best for her.” Gwen dug her fingernails into the wooden railing. “I’m not quitting here. I’m not running back to Denver with my tail between my legs. I’m here, and I’m going to stay here. I’m never leaving.”
“You’ll leave. You’ll get tired of the mud and the dirt and the bugs and the hard work and long hours and the loneliness. Tired of pulling calves and doctoring horses and feeding in winter. You’ll miss your restaurants and stores and movie theaters. You’ll get tired of playing cowgirl and run back to the city where you belong.”
Gwen flung up her head. “I belong here. Since you obviously don’t think so, you’re the one who doesn’t belong. I know I have a lot to learn, but I’ll find someone to help me who doesn’t spend all his time trying to chase me away. Pack up your things and get out.”
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