Читать книгу Accidental Hero - Loralee Lillibridge - Страница 11

Pale morning light filtered through the open barn door, haloing the clock on the wall with dust motes. Abby glanced up wearily. Almost six o’clock and already the barn was hotter than a mouthful of jalapeños. The air hung heavy with the pungent smell of the horses. Hay, feed and freshly hauled manure combined in a uniquely familiar odor that Abby barely noticed.

She’d been out in the barn since four-thirty. At this rate, she’d have all the chores finished before Pop even woke up. Monday’s chores always seemed to take longer. She mopped her damp forehead with a frayed bandana and readjusted her baseball cap before tackling the last of the stalls.

Well, that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? Dirty work. Hot, hard work. Any diversion to take her mind off last Saturday’s confrontation with Bo. Well, hot and hard wasn’t going to do it. Oh, yes, it would.

Knock it off with the fantasies. What on earth had she been thinking when she shoved that kicked-up chili at him? She’d reacted like a child in the throes of a temper tantrum. Nice going, girl. Real maturity.

She stabbed a forkful of new bedding straw and shook it over the clean floor, then made sure the last water trough was full. If she concentrated really hard, maybe she could keep her thoughts where they belonged—on the students that would be showing up in a few hours and not on the rush of emotions that kept her insides churning.

Since it was too soon to put the horses in the arena, Abby made her way to the large room at the back of the barn where the tack was kept. She smiled as she passed the horses. The animals’ objections had been very clear when she’d entered their stalls earlier. Her intrusion at such an early hour had definitely not been appreciated, but fresh oats and clean bedding quickly appeased their grumpiness.

“You are such sweeties,” she crooned, giving them each a loving caress as, one by one, they stuck their heads over the stall doors to greet her. Their whinnies and nickers made her heart swell with love. These docile creatures were her pride and joy. As senior citizens in Abby’s small equine community, the horses were patient beyond belief when it came to the students. Loving the attention they received, the animals were always eager to please and quick to respond to the sometimes timid commands of the novice riders. Somehow, they sensed their importance to the children. The uncanny communication between horse and student never ceased to amaze Abby, so she made pampering and indulging them a priority because—aside from the children—the horses were the most important part of her riding program.

Some had been donated by area ranchers. She had managed to convince a few local ranch owners that, even though the horses were too old to be of much use on a working ranch, they were invaluable to the special children who attended the Sweet River Riders group. Abby loved every one of the horses dearly and so did the few volunteers who showed up each day to complete her staff. The children adored the animals without reservation, and most of them had bonded quickly with a favorite.

In the long room where the tack was stored, Abby counted blankets, straightened the bump pads and lined up the helmets. While she sorted halters, reins, saddles and lead ropes, she thought back to when she had first begun her training to become a director of this worthwhile program.

She’d been drifting through the days in a zombielike state for those first few months after Bo had left Sweet River, nursing her hurt like a wounded animal. Humiliation kept her from leaving the ranch for anything other than business until a friend in Austin called her and urged her to volunteer at an equine therapy school. After two weeks, Abby knew she wanted to be an active participant, and that she wanted to direct a program of her own. The intensity of the instruction and the enormity of such an undertaking were welcome challenges, enabling her to focus her energies on something besides her shattered heart. The children needed her. And Abby sorely needed them.

Now, ironically, Shorty was insisting that Bo needed her. Well, she didn’t want to hear that and wasn’t about to be roped into feeling sorry for him. He had a wife. Let her do the honors. Hadn’t he chosen Marla over Abby and left Abby to face the sympathetic looks and whispers of the community all alone? Old anger reared its head again, triggered by the painful memory of rejection.

A sob tore from her lips and she swore under her breath at her inability to conquer the past. Disgusted, she lugged a box containing plastic spray bottles of waterless cleaner from the storage closet, slammed it down on the table, and counted out a dozen of them. With her eyes squeezed tight against the intruding sting of tears, she made a silent demand. Get out of my head, Bo, and stay away from my heart.

She plopped a stack of paper towels alongside the box and stepped back to make a quick visual check. Everything was in order and ready for the arrival of the twelve boys and girls. With six in each class, she could manage just fine. She was in control and darn well didn’t need Bo Ramsey around to complicate her life. Not now—not ever. But, bitterness still left a nasty aftertaste.

She slid the barn door shut and headed for the house, blocking out her heart’s cry of panic. Salty tears tracked her cheeks and she licked them from her lips. The man from her past might be back in Sweet River, but she refused to acknowledge the possibility that she might feel something besides sympathy for him. Absolutely not. She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes before she reached the kitchen door. Crying was so stupid!

“Breakfast is all ready, kitten.” Buck shoved a hot mat under the coffeepot and set it on the table. “You were already in the barn when I got up, so I figured you’d have chores done before I could get out there. Why didn’t you wake me?”

The delicious aroma of Buck’s dark roast coffee brewing, along with the sizzle of bacon and hotcakes on the griddle, met Abby as she entered the kitchen. The screen door slammed behind her.

“I woke up way too early, Pop. Besides, the hard work was good for me.” She gave him a good-morning kiss on his unshaven cheek and hurried to the bathroom to wash away the grime.

“Mmmmm, the pancakes smell delicious,” she called with forced cheerfulness. “Blueberry’s my favorite.” Hurriedly, she splashed cold water on her face, then pressed a wet washcloth on her eyes to eliminate the telltale redness and hopefully, to relieve her escalating headache.

By the time she returned to the kitchen, all evidence of her sudden, out-of-the-blue crying jag had been washed away. It would never do for Pop to know just how upset she was over Bo’s return. Pop’s health was her number one priority now, right along with keeping the school running in the black. Upsetting him would only add stress, and the doctor had warned her about that. His last checkup had shown a rise in his blood pressure, which surprised Abby, given her father’s even-tempered disposition.

“By the way,” her father said after he sat down. “Marsha called. She can’t help out today. Caleb’s got a tooth that needs to be pulled. With Jan gone to that quarter horse show in San Antonio, we’ll be two helpers short.” He poured syrup over his pancakes.

Abby frowned. “Darn, I hoped with you filling in for Jan, we wouldn’t have a problem. I don’t know who else I can ask on such short notice.” Would there ever be a time when she didn’t have some sort of crisis in her life? Lately it seemed she had to carry her share and everyone else’s, too. Shoot, she was turning into a first-class whiner.

She finished her coffee and pushed away from the table. “I’ll have to start calling around, but I don’t think it will be any use. The first group of kids will be here at nine. It’s after seven now.”

Buck rose and carried his plate to the sink. “What about that Kelly boy? He’s been hanging around the feed store since school got out, looking for work.”

“Does he know anything about horses?” Abby rinsed and stacked the dishes to put in the dishwasher later.

“One way to find out,” Buck said. “Pick up the phone.”

Abby’s headache grew from bitty-sized to mega-magnitude when Karl Kelly said, yep, he could sure use the work, and nope, he didn’t know much about horses but he reckoned he could learn.

She’d felt awful when she told him it was a nonpaying job and even worse when he sighed and said “Oh well, it don’t matter, Miss Abby. Pa’ll get a job one of these days.”

“Well,” Abby said thoughtfully, “I guess we could manage to pay you something.”

The amount she mentioned had Karl bubbling over with gratitude. When she hung up the phone, Abby knew she’d done the right thing. Replacing the dishwasher could wait a while longer. So could her car’s air conditioner.

“Teddie, good morning,” Abby called later from where she waited near the gate to the arena for the morning’s first arrivals. The youngster being led across the yard made no response. “Hello, Caroline.” She acknowledged the child’s mother with a wave.

The young woman returned the wave but the boy hung back, pulling against his mother’s hand. He was shaking his head, clearly not wanting to come any closer. His reluctance tugged at Abby’s heart. Six-year-old Teddie North was one of the first students signed up for the therapeutic riding program, yet his progress was much slower than the other students in his class. Abby was still trying to break through the barrier of his shyness. Trying to win his trust. With both legs recently out of heavy casts, Teddie struggled with his limitations. So far, the only one he trusted besides his mother was the little mare, Star—the one he loved to pet, but refused to ride.

Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw Buck leading Star out of her stall. She smiled. Pop could always be counted on. Her heart swelled with love and admiration. Without him, her school would still be only a dream. Buck had supported and encouraged her through all the tough times. She would be forever grateful. The children and their needs had pulled her through the loneliness—after Bo. Somehow, Pop had known they would. She’d never blamed her father for their financial problems.

Star whickered and bobbed her head. Buck let her trot to the fence where Teddie and his mother stood on the opposite side. Blowing softly, the little mare pushed at the fence until Teddie poked his hand between the rails. Immediately, Star nudged it, lipping his small finger in a gentle welcome. Teddie’s face lit up, and his childish giggle made Abby smile.

She approached him hesitantly, speaking softly. “Do you think you’d like to try riding her today, Teddie?”

The look of panic on the boy’s face was so pronounced, Abby quickly turned away to hide her disappointment. Every day she hoped for a breakthrough to reach the youngster. Today wasn’t going to be the day, but she refused to give up hope.

She dug in her pocket for a carrot and handed it to Teddie. “Here, why don’t you give her this, instead? She likes it when you give her a treat.”

Teddie took the carrot and timidly stuck it through the fence, a cherubic grin appearing when Star nibbled out of his hand.

“I don’t know why he won’t try to ride,” Teddie’s mother said, keeping her voice low. “All he talks about all week is Star. He loves her, really he does.” She reached out to caress her son’s tiny shoulder, then moved her hand to tousle his hair.

Abby spoke reassuringly. “Star loves him, too, and someday he’ll ride. You’ll see.” She gave the little mare a pat on the rump, then excused herself to check on the arrival of the other students.

Thankfully, the Kelly boy had turned out to be a fast learner and a tremendous hit with all the students. Even Teddie seemed to trust him although he was still afraid of the horses and never went beyond the gate. Abby decided that Karl’s help was well worth giving up a new dishwasher.

After everyone had gone, Abby massaged the back of her neck, and fell into step beside Buck. “Why are Mondays always so long, Pop? Karl did all right, don’t you think? Are tuna sandwiches okay for lunch?”

Buck shortened his stride and put his arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “Which question do you want me to answer first?” His warm chuckle was as comforting as his embrace.

Abby gave him a tired smile. Her habit of asking more than two questions in a row was an old joke between them. Pop’s answer never varied. She leaned her head against his arm and sighed. “I guess I know the answers to two of them. Mondays are long because they just are, and Karl definitely did all right. I think he likes working with the students as well as the horses.”

Buck nodded. “And a tuna sandwich is fine. Yeah, Karl’s a good kid. I wish there was some way we could give him a regular salary to help out with chores. His folks are having a tough time getting by since his dad got laid off.”

“I decided to take some out of the money I’d been saving to fix the dishwasher, Pop. It’s not much but maybe we can have him come a few more times.”

“Well now, that’s just fine. I knew you’d figure something out.”

“But, we still have the veterinarian’s regular visit coming up, plus the bill at the feed mill is due by the end of the month.” Abby couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed at the increasing debts.

“Something’ll turn up,” Buck said, his optimism sincere. “It always does.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze, then moved to open the gate. They walked in silence across the yard toward the house.

The growl of a pickup interrupted their thoughts. “Looks like it already has,” she said.

Shorty’s ancient truck clattered across the cattle guard at the ranch entrance and bounced up the drive, stopping right next to where Buck and Abby stood.

Abby’s heart hiccuped and stuck in her throat the minute she caught sight of Bo sitting on the passenger side. She heard his familiar voice as she hurried past, but didn’t stop until she reached the porch.

“Of all the damned tricks…” Bo sputtered at the man behind the wheel when they stopped in front of the house. He’d figured out where Shorty was headed as soon as the truck veered off the main road and headed west on the farm-to-market route.

By the time they’d skirted town, Bo’s protests had escalated right along with his blood pressure, but his stubborn friend ignored him with a possum-like smirk and kept on driving. That irritated the hell out of him, too.

“I’m not getting out,” he declared, crossing his arms over his chest and settling back in the seat. He glared at Shorty.

When he spied Abby coming from the corral, he yanked his hat down. He could almost feel the daggers shooting at him from Buck Houston’s angry eyes. He should’ve been suspicious when Shorty told him he’d found something for Bo to do. No way was he taking charity from the Houstons. Besides, the horses he glimpsed as they drove in looked like geriatric throwaways. They sure couldn’t require much more than a green pasture and a clean stall. Any kid could do that.

“Quit being a jackass,” was all Shorty had time to say before Buck walked around to the driver’s side and stuck his hand through the window.

“Hey, Shorty, good to see you.”

“You, too, Buck,” the older man said as they shook hands.

“Bo,” Buck muttered with a slight nod. He withdrew his hand.

“Houston,” Bo replied, curling his fingers in a tight fist. Well, damned if I need your handshake.

“Something special bring you out this way, Shorty?”

Buck still stood at the side of the truck, but Bo knew the man’s gaze was focused on him. Abby stood on the porch steps, obviously waiting to see what would happen next. He wasn’t quite sure what Shorty’s plans were, but he was positive no one around here was going to like them. Especially him.

“I got something I’d like to talk to you about, Buck.” Shorty moved to open the truck door.

“Sure,” Buck said. He jerked his thumb toward the porch. “Come on up. I’ll have Abby bring us something cold to drink.”

“Well…” Shorty hesitated. “I was thinking maybe somewhere more private.”

“Oh. Well, all right.” Buck started toward the barn. “We’ll be out of the sun in here.”

Shorty slammed the door to the truck and started to follow. “Back in a few, Bo. You ought to go and thank Abby for the chili.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder with a don’t argue tone that Bo couldn’t have missed even if he tried.

Bo slid a little further down in the seat. Banged his knee on the dash. Ow! Geez! He shot a glance toward the house…and Abby. Well, hell, now what do I do?

While he was wrestling with that question, Abby descended the steps and slowly made her way to the truck. The temptation to watch was more than he could resist.

The way she swung her hips in that sweet, seductive sway jump-started his pulse, and his temperature shot skyward. She’d always had the power to incite a riot in his body. He remembered how astonished she’d been when he’d revealed that very personal phenomenon to her. Surprised and delighted. Yes, and he’d been more than surprised at the way she’d enthusiastically proved her delight. Knock it off, Ramsey. That was a long time ago, before you turned into the world’s biggest fool.

As she walked toward him, Bo was reminded again of the reason he left Sweet River and what his reckless decision back then had cost him. He should have tried harder to understand Abby’s reasons for refusing to go with him. Maybe if he’d listened to her instead of stubbornly refusing to compromise, he and Abby would be a happy married couple by now.

And that thought, along with other notions crossing his mind as she approached the truck caused sensations he’d rather not acknowledge. But his physical reaction was impossible to ignore. He was only human, after all. And his jeans were suddenly unable to accommodate his uncomfortable response. Thankfully, he was still in the truck since a cold shower wasn’t an option right then.

Abby stopped and rested her hand on the open window, her eyes bright, questioning. He remembered those bewitching blue depths. Deep enough for a man to get lost in. Perceptive enough to find the hidden truth beneath his scarred exterior if he wasn’t careful. The very reason he didn’t want to be here. He lived every day with the painful knowledge that he’d never stopped loving her, but there was no way he could tell her that now. No everlasting way.

Abby wasn’t quite sure what made her decide to approach the truck and its occupant. Maybe she was just a glutton for punishment. Then again, maybe it was because Bo looked so uncomfortable in the noonday heat, and she felt obligated to offer him the hospitality of her shaded porch. Oh, who was she kidding? She just plain wanted to see him again. No excuses, no sane reason. Just wanted to. And maybe if she talked to him like a responsible adult, she could put a final closure on the crack in her heart, instead of the temporary bandage she’d been using.

With her heart in her throat, she greeted him. “Hello, Bo. I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

“You can blame Shorty for that,” he grumbled. “I didn’t know he was headed here, or I wouldn’t have come with him.” He turned to stare out the opposite window.

“Oh, really?” Like he didn’t know the way to her place. Did he think she was stupid? Well, she’d show him it didn’t really matter to her one way or the other. She would treat him the same as she would anyone else who happened to stop by. Courteous and no more.

“Since you’re here, you might as well get out of the heat.” Trying to be cordial while talking to the back of his head challenged her genuine inclination to be polite. And Bo wasn’t helping matters by refusing to look her way. He kept his face turned and his darn hat pulled so low, she wondered how he could even see anything but the underside of the brim.

“No thanks, I’ll just wait here,” he said. “Don’t know what Shorty wanted to see Buck about. He told me somebody had some horses to take care of, but guess he made a mistake. Doesn’t look like you need help around here. Not with those worn-out nags in your pasture. You’d be further ahead to sell them instead of paying out good money for feed.”

“That’s all you know, Ramsey.” Abby bristled at his condemning observation of her wonderful four-legged friends. “Those horses are a vital part of a very important riding program. Don’t criticize before you understand what you’re talking about.”

“A riding program?” He turned to her, and she realized she’d piqued his interest enough to make him forget his scars, at least for the moment. Then it dawned on her—a sneaking suspicion of why Shorty had brought him here. If anyone knew horses, it was Bo, but that didn’t mean she wanted him here. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to face the possibility of having him around on a day-to-day basis and not be tempted to hash over old memories. Did she even want to?

Looking at him, she could understand his reluctance to expose himself to public scrutiny, yet the scars didn’t keep her legs from going goofy or her pulse from singing karaoke at the sound of his voice. His crooked leg and awkward gait didn’t detract from his seductive Texas charm. No, there was nothing scary about Bo except the fact that he still had the power to hurt her. Deep in her heart, she acknowledged that secret and vowed to keep those longings and desires to herself. After all, he was a married man.

Still, his experience around horses would be a tremendous help and relieve Pop of some of his workload. To do or not to do? Was it worth the chance? Pop could sure use the extra pair of hands.

“Have you ever heard of using horses to help children with physical and emotional problems, Bo?” Her question slid out on the deep end of a sigh as she grabbed the door handle. “Come over to the porch where it’s cooler, and I’ll tell you about it.”

Without waiting for him to object, or for the chance to change her own mind, Abby opened the door, squinting against the noon brightness. “It’s too hot to stand out here in the sun. I won’t offer you a beer, but I’ve got cold, sweet tea already made.”

She started to help him out of the truck, then thought better of it, remembering how he’d shot out of the café parking lot on Saturday. She stepped aside to give his male pride a wide berth. Holding her breath might not help, but she did it anyway.

He reached for the sunglasses in his shirt pocket and settled them on his nose.

“You’re right, it is too hot to sit out here,” he said, surprising her with his swift agreement. “And I haven’t had honest-to-God sweet tea in a helluva long time.”

He eased out one leg, then the other, until he was standing outside the truck. After a moment’s hesitation when he hung onto the door for balance, he followed her to the shaded porch.

The shuffle of his uneven stride as he dragged his leg along the walk made her slow her own pace. But when his labored breathing sent a warm puff of air to tickle the back of her neck, it was all she could do to keep from breaking into a run.