CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ashley rubbed one of Matthew’s horses between his eyes. “Did you know that part of the reason I liked you was because of your horses?”
Matthew leaned against the barn wall, content to watch Ashley get her fill of their ranch. “No, but it doesn’t surprise me. You spent a lot of time out here.”
Chan, Nathan’s sorrel stallion, nodded his agreement from the stall beside them.
Ashley smiled. “Your mom told me I should have been born on a ranch. I guess I was destined to enjoy everyone else’s horses.”
Matthew kept his thoughts to himself. Reminding her that she could have had a happy life on his family’s ranch wouldn’t help anyone. “Tell me about Washington, D.C. Did you like the city?”
“I didn’t see much of it, but what I did see was beautiful. The museums are fantastic.”
“Did you see any horses?”
Ashley laughed. “No. The city needs to follow New York’s example and offer horse and carriage rides around the National Mall. The newspaper office isn’t far from the Lincoln Memorial. I could see the horses every day if I worked there.” She looked above them and frowned. “Did you hear that?”
Matthew followed her gaze. A scratching sound came from the loft. “It’s probably one of the cats.”
“Something’s not right.” She headed toward the wooden ladder. “I’ll feel better if I have a look.”
“You don’t like heights. I’ll go.”
“I can manage.” Ashley hauled herself up the ladder, gripping the rungs so tight that her knuckles turned white.
“I’ll follow you. Don’t look down.” He was surprised at how quickly she climbed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’ve been practicing going up and down ladders.”
Ashley pulled herself over the last rung and clambered onto the loft floor. “When I stayed on the ranch, Catherine and I decided to leave the cat bowls up here. I came up the ladder twice a day.”
Matthew poked his head over the edge of the loft. Ashley was quietly walking around, listening for the sound they’d heard from downstairs.
A pitiful meow filled the loft. Ashley moved to the hay bales stacked on one side of the floor. “It’s coming from in here.” She clambered across the hay and searched between the bales.
Another plaintiff meow had her moving to the right. “A cat is locked in Catherine’s playhouse.”
Matthew pulled himself into the loft. “Watch out for the rats.”
“Very funny,” Ashley muttered. “Catherine told me the barn cats are the best mousers in the world.”
“My niece is seven years old.” Matthew grinned. “She thinks the best of everything comes from Montana. And a mouse is smaller than a rat. It takes a special kind of cat to corner a rat and live to tell the tale.”
Ashley yanked open the playroom door. A cat flew out, heading straight for the food and water bowls on the other side of the loft.
“The poor thing,” Ashley crooned. “Grouchy must have been trapped inside for a few days.”
“I’m surprised Catherine didn’t realize he was missing,” Matthew murmured.
Ashley sat on a hay bale close to Grouchy. He was scoffing the cat grits as if he hadn’t eaten all week. “He’s starving.”
“He’ll be okay once he gets some food into his stomach. I’ll let Nathan know that one of the cats couldn’t get out.”
“It would have been worse if Catherine or Toby had been inside the playhouse.”
Matthew climbed over the hay bales and jiggled the handle. “We could almost take the lock completely off the door, then no one will get trapped again.”
Ashley watched him climb back to where she was sitting. “Life is a lot simpler here.”
“What do you mean?”
