Читать книгу Vixen In Disguise - Kara Lennox, Kara Lennox - Страница 12

“The swelling’s gone down a lot,” Dr. Rick Chandler pronounced as he poked and prodded at Traveler’s leg.

“He’s feeling better, too,” Wade said. “I can tell he’s itching to get out of this stall.”

“Then let’s give it a try.”

Full of optimism, Wade attached a lead rope to Traveler’s halter, then opened the stall door and let all three of them out. To his disappointment, his horse put almost no weight on the injured leg, gimping along with an awkward gait. They walked the length of the barn, then back, with the vet observing critically. When they reached Traveler’s stall the horse entered docilely, then didn’t even turn around to face front—as if his infirmity humiliated him.

Doc Chandler frowned. “He’s still in a lot of pain.”

“Should I continue the hot and cold compresses?”

“Couldn’t hurt, at least until the swelling’s gone. Don’t let him walk around on that leg just yet.”

“You think there’s any way he’ll be ready for the American Royal in early November?”

The vet scratched his grizzled white head. He’d been treating Cottonwood’s animal population since long before Wade was born, and he seemed to have a special bond with animals. In fact, he’d been in attendance when Traveler was born.

“It’s a tough call. Older horses take longer to recover from injuries, just like old people—you know that. And I sure as hell wouldn’t push him before he’s ready.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that. But the Royal…”

“You’re up for some big prize money, aren’t you?”

“The whole enchilada. Even with taking off this whole month, I’ve still got more points than any other calf roper in the country. I could walk away with enough to retire.”

Doc raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not talking a villa on the Riviera, but I’d have enough of a nest egg I could do something else.”

“Rodeo getting a little old?”

Wade laughed. “Not hardly. I love rodeo. It’s just that I’m not getting any younger. And it’s a young man’s game. I just have this feeling in my bones, you know, like I’m gonna win the championship this year or I can forget it.”

The older man stared at Wade for a few moments, and Wade got the feeling he understood. Doc Chandler had been a bull rider once upon a time, or so Wade had heard.

“I’ll do what I can for your horse. These soft-tissue injuries are tricky. They can linger for months, or they can suddenly get better.”

“I’m pulling for the ‘suddenly better’ option.”

Wade got out his wallet to pay Doc Chandler’s fee, but the vet waved away the cash. “It’s just a follow-up visit. No charge. Besides, I’m getting ready to go up to the house and eat my weight in barbecued beef. That’s payment enough.”

“Thanks.” Wade suspected Doc was going easy on him, and he was grateful. He wasn’t poor—he’d socked away a good bit of money over the years. But he had a goal in mind. He wouldn’t retire until he’d reached it, and every penny he saved moved his bank balance that much closer to his goal.

He’d never told anyone about his pie-in-the-sky plan of raising quarter horses, or the other, even sillier-sounding plan—more a dream than anything. He’d never heard of anyone running a rodeo camp for city kids. But he knew in his gut the camp could work.

Recently he’d started to think about his dreams in more concrete terms—how to get sponsors and grants to help underwrite the project, how to market the camp. He’d started drafting letters, crunching numbers, making calls to the Small Business Association. It was becoming less a dream and more a possibility.

His brothers would laugh their butts off if he told them what he wanted to do with his life. They had him pegged as the ne’er-do-well, the black-sheep brother, who by some fluke had achieved a measure of success in what they considered a worthless field—rodeo. They still didn’t consider riding a horse for entertainment a proper career. His oldest brother had never forgiven him for not staying to work the ranch. His father and Jeff, both nonranchers, were at least a bit more sympathetic when it came to Wade following his own path. But they’d never forgiven him for skipping out on that education thing.

“You’re sticking around for the big wingding, aren’t you?” Doc Chandler asked as he stepped into the barn’s bathroom to wash his hands, then comb his hair and his handlebar mustache.

“Command performance. Granddad really would disown me if I skipped out on his eightieth birthday.”

“I expect you won’t have such a terrible time,” Doc teased. “The Hardisons have always known how to throw a party.”

Wade wasn’t big on parties, but he wouldn’t miss this one even without the threat of familial disapproval. The Chatsworths were on the guest list, and that meant Anne was invited, too. He was curious to see whether she would show up and, if she did, how she would treat him in front of their respective relatives. Would she pretend she barely knew him?

That thought cut him to the quick.

He washed his own hands, retucked his shirt into his jeans, then headed up to the house with Doc. Cars and pickups were already arriving, lining the long, red dirt driveway.

The whole family was gathered in the living room—Jeff and his date du jour, Allison, Jonathan and the two kids, Wade’s father and Pete, seated in a high-back rocking chair like a king on his throne, allowing the arriving guests to pay him homage. A growing pile of cards and presents—most of them appearing to be bottles of liquor—sat near his feet.

Also there to help with the food was their neighbor, Sally Enderlin, an elderly widow who’d lived in Cottonwood almost as long as Pete. She’d pitched in to help after Wade’s mother had died and had become almost part of their family.

As Doc entered the living room, everyone greeted him warmly. Then they all seemed to stare at Wade, unsure how to react. Pete’s smile faded, replaced by a disapproving frown. That seemed to be about all Wade could get out of his grandfather.

“’Bout time you showed up,” Pete said.

“Oh, leave the boy alone, you old coot,” Doc said, coming to Wade’s defense. He was one of the few senior citizens in the room who had earned the right to talk to Pete like that. “We were checking on Traveler.”

“Don’t know why you’re bothering,” Pete said. “Horse goes lame like that, he’s no better’n glue.”

Pete was trying to get a rise out of his errant grandson, and Wade refused to give him the satisfaction.

“Wade, well if my eyes don’t deceive me, it is you,” Sally said, wrapping her ropy arms around him. He hugged her back, suddenly feeling loved for the first time in a while. “You’ll have to catch me up on your life when you have—oh, here, now, have you met Allison?”

Always the social chairperson, Sally made quick introductions, then flitted away to take a newcomer’s coat. Wade was glad Sally was there to play hostess. Certainly none of the Hardison men were very good at that kind of thing.

Wade remembered Allison Crane. She and Jeff had been best friends all through school, though Wade had always suspected that Allison wished she and Jeff could be something more.

“You’ve changed,” Allison said.

“So have you,” Wade countered, though in reality, she looked much the same as she had in high school, chubby and plain, but with a beautiful smile. “I hear you’re a dentist now.”

She nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “Do you wear a mouth guard when you ride?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

But she wasn’t giving him her full attention. Her eyes kept flickering toward Jeff, keeping tabs on his movements. Same old Allison, same unrequited crush.

As more and more guests arrived, the crowd spilled through the house and outside to the patio, where a deejay played country songs and a couple of the ranch hands were roasting beef, pork and chicken over a pit barbecue. The din of voices got louder and louder as the guests imbibed. Still, Wade knew exactly when Anne arrived. He picked her voice out over the roar the moment she opened her mouth.

Pete actually smiled when he saw Anne. He pushed himself out of his chair despite her protests and kissed her on the cheek. Wade, watching from the doorway to the kitchen, was surprised by the warm greeting. He vaguely remembered his grandfather doting on Anne when she was a little girl, claiming she was his honorary granddaughter, but he hadn’t realized they were still close.

“Food and drink’s out back,” Pete said, pointing toward the kitchen. “Wade, make yourself useful for once and show the Chatsworths where the grub is.”

Wade’s gaze locked with Anne’s. She wore loose khaki slacks and a bulky sweater, her hair pulled back into a single braid. The sexless clothes and unimaginative hairstyle didn’t really bother him as much as he let on. He knew what she looked like underneath. In fact, he could almost sense the Annie he remembered from the rodeo seething beneath the surface, ready to leap out.

Despite what she said, Annie was not fictional. Anne’s father seemed to be waiting for some introduction, so Wade offered his hand to the older man. “Mr. Chatsworth. Nice to see you again.”

“Surprised to see you again,” the older man said, giving Wade’s hand a perfunctory shake. “Thought you’d shaken the Cottonwood dust off your shoes for good.”

Anne’s mother elbowed her husband. “Milton, for heaven’s sake. Hello, Wade. We’re glad you’ve come back. This is our daughter, Anne. You two were just children the last time you met.”

Wade took Anne’s hand, holding it a shade longer than necessary. “Actually…”

Anne’s eyes widened in alarm.

He gave her a teasing smile before continuing. “Actually, we ran into each other at the garden center yesterday. Sometimes I forget what a truly small town Cottonwood is. Come on out this way for the food and beer.” He led her parents out to the patio, where they were immediately swallowed up by the crowd.

Anne hung back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” he asked innocently.

“Almost give me a heart attack.”

“Relax, I won’t give away your dirty little secret.”

“You don’t have to put it like that. I’m not ashamed of knowing you. I just don’t want to explain what I was doing at the rodeo when I was supposed to be studying for my final exams. Oh, I have something for you.” She reached into her voluminous purse and withdrew a tiny potted ivy. “Somehow, in the confusion at the cash register, I ended up with one of your plants.”

“And you actually felt compelled to return it?” Apparently she felt she’d needed an excuse to talk to him. Promising. If he was stuck in Cottonwood while his horse recovered, he could do worse than to spend that time with Anne. Plus, if she accepted him, his own family would almost have to.

“I like to tie up loose ends,” she said. “This concludes our business, I believe.”

“C’mon, Annie, I’m dyin’ here. Won’t you throw me a scrap of hope that you care something for me?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, though the question carried more weight than he cared to admit. It really did pain him to think she cared nothing for him. In fact, he simply refused to accept that as a possibility.

“Wade, please.” But she laughed.

Okay, now he was getting somewhere. “You want a beer?”

“Not trying to get me drunk, I hope.”

“From what I remember, that’s not necessary.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not winning any points by reminding me of my unladylike behavior.”

“Oh, I think you were very ladylike. Stay here. I’ll get you something to drink.” Wade worked his way through the crowd to the kegs. He had to stand in line, but finally he was able to pour a couple of frosty cups.

He returned to where he’d left Anne, but she was gone.

“Well, damn.” He was some kind of sucker, wandering off and leaving her alone, giving her a golden opportunity to escape him. And in this crowd, he might not find her again.