Читать книгу Cool Hand Hank / A Cowboy's Redemption: Cool Hand Hank / A Cowboy's Redemption - Kathleen Eagle - Страница 10

Sally was up early.

She’d checked her e-mail—the honeymooners had landed safely and a group of church campers wanted to schedule a day trip to the sanctuary—and paid some bills online before leaving the room that had served variously as the “front” bedroom, the den, the office and now all three rolled up into Sally’s lair. She refused to consider it her confines, but there were times when parts of her body wouldn’t do much. For Annie’s sake she came out for meals, but otherwise she worked long hours in the office. She profiled every animal on the place, recorded every piece of machinery, kept the books, researched everything from parasites to nonprofits and hatched plans. Her motto was: When the Moving Gets Tough, the Tough Get Moving. One of these days she was going to stitch up the words into a little plaque.

Just as soon as she learned to stitch, which wasn’t happening anytime soon. Not as long as the good times were walkin’ instead of rollin'.

She helped herself to coffee, popped an English muffin in the toaster and glanced out the back window.

Here came Grumpy.

She couldn’t get it through Hoolie’s head that as long as she could get up and go, she was going. He knew as well as she did that her physical condition was predictably unpredictable. Most people didn’t believe they could get seriously sick or hurt anytime. They knew it, but they didn’t believe it. Sally remembered what that carefree, wasted-on-the-healthy frame of mind was like. She’d been there, BMS—before multiple sclerosis. MS had made a believer of her. Her body could turn on her anytime. Just a matter of time.

She’d had to admit that her eye had been bothering her. She was in the knowing-but-not-really-believing stage—was that the same as denial?—but Hoolie couldn’t be denied. He was old and dear, and he knew better. Annie was young and dear, and she could be put off. So, yes, she’d been waking up some mornings—just some—feeling like she had something in her right eye. And sometimes—like the other night in the pickup with Hank—it would totally blur up as though she were crying Vaseline. Weird. These things often hit her when she was feeling stressed, which was hardly what she’d been feeling that night.

Hoolie mounted the back steps, crutch thumping, black shepherd in tow. He told the dog to stay outside, but she took off as soon as the door closed, presumably in search of somebody else to herd.

“Have you guys edumacated Phoebe and Baby yet?” The word was Hank’s. She felt giddy about knowing it and saying it, like a girl with a crush. She laughed at the funny look Hoolie gave her. “Hank’s teaching me to talk Indian. He got himself edumacated. I guess it’s learning the hard way.”

“Seems like a real smart fella. Zach says he’s halfway to bein’ a doctor and twice as good as most of them he knows. Guess he’s met a few.” He glanced down at his cast. “So, if I have any more trouble with this, I can probably…you know…”

“Ask him to take a look. I doubt if he’d charge you much.” She pulled a chair out from the table and spun it around. “You know, you’re supposed to use two crutches.”

He ignored the comment, but he accepted the chair.

“I didn’t mean to get testy last night. You were gone a long time, and it’s been a while since you’ve been on a horse.”

“It was wonderful.” She positioned a second chair for his footstool. “It was just what the halfway doctor would have ordered. If orders were in order.”

“What’s he chargin’ for fixing up Tank’s hooves? He’s out there now gettin’ set to work on him. You might wanna go watch and learn.”

“Like I’ve never seen horseshoeing done before.” She headed for the coffeepot.

“Not like this. Hank’s firing up for a hot shoeing. Got his portable forge out. Took his shirt off. Got a nice set of tools all laid out.” He nodded his thanks for the coffee she handed him. “Sometimes they charge extra for hot shoeing, but they say it’s worth it.”

She laughed. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were playing a game that has everything to do with firing up, nothing to do with horseshoes.”

“Game? What game? I’m just sayin'…”

“I have a couple of volunteers coming in today, and I thought we’d get them started on—”

“Mowing the ditches along the right-of-way and putting up the new snow fence. I’m already on it.” He raised one unruly eyebrow. “In case you wanted to take Hank something cold and wet, there’s pop in the fridge.”

“I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. I’ll just take him some ice water.” In a tall, sweaty glass.

The smell of burning charcoal drifted through the barn’s side door, where Sally was greeted by wagging tails and canine smiles. Phoebe and Baby were buds. The Dog Whisperer had spoken.