Jericho didn’t respond, and she forced herself to keep going and not glance back at him, even though everything within her wanted to stop and stare at him all night long.
As she reached the low point in the river and started crossing over, she heard him following her and relief weakened her knees. The truth was, she didn’t want to part ways with him yet. She wanted the chance to talk with him, find out what he’d been up to, where he’d been, what he’d done.
With his long stride, he easily caught up, guiding his horse next to her. When they sloshed to the opposite side and reached the path that led up to Wyatt’s house, Jericho halted.
She paused beside the chokecherry bushes, loaded with clusters of fruit that were still green, although some were beginning to turn red. Wyatt’s wife, Greta, used the chokecherries in her jam-making, but it would still be a month or two before they were ripe enough for picking.
“I take it you haven’t told Wyatt and Flynn you’re competing.” Jericho spoke casually, but she’d learned long ago he rarely said or did anything without a purpose.
She swung around, arms stiff, body on edge, ready for a fight. “Nobody knows. And it better stay that way.”
“Or else what?” He pulled himself up to his full height so that he towered above her.
She knew as well as he did there wasn’t anything she could do if he decided to tell her brothers about her duplicity in entering the cowhand contests. And if they found out, they’d hog-tie her to a hitching post for a month. At the very least, they’d make sure she never competed again.
She crossed to Jericho and poked her finger into his chest. Hard. “Don’t you dare say a word to them.”
His gaze darted to her finger as if it were nothing more than a pesky fly he could bat away.
“I mean it.”
“You can’t expect me to sit back and say nothing. If they found out I knew and didn’t alert them, they’d string me up in the nearest tree.”
Her mind did a rapid calculation for how much more money she needed until she had enough for the down payment on the land. She might be able to convince Steele to hold it for her with the little she’d saved so far, but she still had at least two months of Sundays left—maybe three—before she’d have the amount Steele wanted.
“I need more time.”
“What for?”
“I’m saving up so I can buy my own spread.”
He studied her face. And he didn’t scoff the way some of the cowhands did when she talked about trying to start her own ranch. That was one thing she appreciated about Jericho. He never discouraged her from roping and riding and all the other duties that came with cattle ranching. He’d let her tag along with Dylan and him and had been a patient teacher, more so than most.
“How much more do you need?”
She dropped her hand from his chest. “Ain’t gonna lie. I got a long ways to go.”
“How long?”
“Was hoping I’d save up enough by the end of the summer.”
He started to shake his head, protest crinkling at the corners of his eyes.
“End of August.” She spoke fast before he could give her an ultimatum. “I’ll for sure earn enough by the end of August.”
He pressed his lips together.
“Please, please, please, Jericho. Try to understand.”
“For the love of heaven, Ivy. Why are you so headstrong?”
“This is important to me. I need my own place.” As much as she loved Wyatt and Flynn and Brody, they had their own lives and families. She was still living with Wyatt most of the time but bedded down at Flynn’s or Brody’s once in a while when they needed an extra hand. She’d even stayed for a couple of months with Brody and Savannah after the birth of their first child, Hartley, who was now a toddling one-year-old with a sibling on the way.
The truth was, the more her brothers’ families expanded, the more pressure Ivy felt to give them the room they needed. Besides, she was ready to put an end to the roaming and finally put down roots. It had been too long since she’d been able to call any place home, not since the farm in Pennsylvania before Ma had died.
More than anything, though, she didn’t want to end up like her ma, having to rely on a man. She was short on memories of Ma and Pa together. Most of what she remembered came from the years her ma was married to Rusty. She’d had to wed the fella to save the family farm. But in doing so, she lost herself. Ivy couldn’t recall her ma being anything other than worn down and wearing Rusty’s bruises.
Yep, no how no way was she ever gonna be dependent on a husband. Instead, she aimed to make her own way.
“I’ll do it,” she said. “You’ll see.”
In the starlit night, the scruffy layer of unshaven hair made Jericho’s face darker and more foreboding.
“I’m gonna raise sheep.” Maybe if she expounded on her plans, she’d have a better chance at convincing him. “Already been in touch with a sheepherder in Utah.”
“Your brothers know of your plans?”
She released an irritated huff. “I reckon I can live my own life without having to involve them.” What was it with her brothers? And now Jericho? Why did they think they had to oversee everything she did? She might be the baby of the family and the only girl, but she was eighteen, soon going on nineteen. They needed to stop holding on to her so tight.
“They’re watching out for you because they love you. That’s what older brothers do.”
She guessed he was thinking of Nash and missing him. “I know.” Compassion pushed aside her frustration. Jericho had tormented himself since the day Nash had died. The night Jericho had left South Park, he told her he wanted to get away from the reminders of his brother.
What had brought him back? The question was on the tip of her tongue, but before she could ask it, Jericho spoke. “Alright. I won’t say anything about your competing. But . . .”
“But what?”
“But you have to promise you won’t do any more Roman-style racing—”
“That’s not fair. I’m good at it. The best—”
“No more Roman-style,” he stated with as much stubbornness as an ornery bull. “It’s too dangerous.”
A long string of protests burned for release, but from the set of Jericho’s shoulders, she reckoned she had about as much of a chance of getting him to change his mind as she had in getting a cow to climb a tree.
“Fine,” she said.
“And only until the end of August.”
She started up the path again. “Anyone ever tell you how bossy you are?”
“Only you.” His words hinted at the memories of days gone by.
They’d had lots of good times, especially those months on the trail west when they’d been kids with nothing more to do than fish and hunt and learn new riding and roping tricks. Yep, the trip had been dangerous and tiring and long. But she’d loved every minute, mainly because she’d been able to spend as much time as she wanted with Jericho. He’d always been easy to talk to. And since they’d each lost a parent, they’d been able to confide in each other the frustration of having remaining parents abandon them, almost as if they’d died too.