Читать книгу The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle - Shelley Peterson - Страница 20

10

YOUNG LOVE

FRIDAY MORNING, ABBY AWOKE long before the alarm rang. It was five o’clock. She had barely slept. There was too much on her mind. She leaned across her bed and opened the drapes a little to check on the weather. Just as she thought. It was still raining. Ugh. Maybe Joy could drive her to school today.

Christine had come home from the hospital the day before. They’d kept her in only one night, with Hilary sleeping on a cot beside her. Christine was tired and bruised, and her ribs were sore, but she was in great shape for a woman who’d been knocked out and buried in dirt. Joy had gone to visit her Wednesday night and arrived back at her bedside early Thursday morning. Joy told Abby that Christine had survived because of the way she fell. When she was knocked out, she’d slumped forward into a ball and had somehow managed to create a pocket of air. Abby didn’t want to imagine if Christine had died. Indirectly, it would’ve been her fault. Christine had gone to see if Samuel Owens needed medical assistance because Abby was too frightened to look down the hole after Dancer had kicked him in. Abby pulled the covers over her head. Too horrible.

She sighed, resigned to dragging herself out of her warm bed in one hour to work with Leggy. She tried to fall asleep again.

It was difficult to get excited about training Leggy when the ground was muddy. Abby could make the case that it was even dangerous, but she knew better. There was always something to do, and keeping to the daily schedule was almost as important as the training itself. She could groom Leggy and tack her up and walk her up and down the road, practise loading in the horse-trailer, or teach her to back up or to yield to each side.

Sam had virtually ignored her yesterday. Abby was more confused than ever. They had a date tonight, didn’t they? Or was it a date? Sam had said he wanted to talk to her. He didn’t call it a date. Why should Abby call it a date? Maybe she should just phone Sam and cancel. Abby rolled over. Count sheep, you idiot, she told herself. It’s way too early.

Dancer looked better Thursday than Wednesday, and Abby felt hopeful that he’d look better again today. With Hilary home for the weekend, Abby wasn’t sure how much she’d be needed, but she planned to go to Hogscroft directly after school to offer help in any way. She might as well forget about the Invitational, even though Christine had registered her. There was no way Dancer would be sound and fit in just five weeks. Abby calculated three weeks minimum for recovery, then at least a month to regain his muscle tone. She was sorely disappointed.

She turned onto her belly in an effort to shut down her thoughts.

Moonie wasn’t her normal, perky, willing self. Abby had meant to ask Alan Masters about her, but so much else had been going on. She made a mental note to call him. Moonie and Leggy needed their rabies shots and worming medicine, anyway. Until Moonie got a checkup, Abby didn’t want to ride her.

Everyone at school was talking about the auditions. Was Abby the only one who hadn’t been there? The roles would be posted on the library bulletin board on Monday, but already people were sure they’d snagged the lead, or positive they’d embarrassed themselves terribly. Lucy went on and on about Ambrose Brown. He was now her personal ghost. He had appeared as a sign that stardom was beckoning, and vaporized as soon as he knew she’d got the message. Lucy was even talking about holding a seance. Abby smiled under the covers.

Mr. Owens was another matter. Abby shuddered, thinking that he made her old nemesis, Colonel Kenneth Bradley, look almost angelic. Well, not quite, but this man was looney-tunes. What could he possibly get out of trapping a horse or trying to shoot it? Was it all about trespassing? Abby didn’t know how to read it, she only knew that he gave her the creeps. More than the creeps. He made her mad. Furious. The man was making people afraid. You never knew what he’d do next, and you couldn’t prove his involvement anyway.

She’d never get back to sleep now. With a huge effort, she threw the covers off and leapt out of bed. She pulled on her old sweatsuit and hurried downstairs. Not even pausing for orange juice, Abby shrugged into her rain slicker and stepped into her boots. She might as well wake Leggy and get her morning training out of the way. Then she would reward herself with oatmeal porridge with raisins and brown sugar, and a soak in the tub before school.

Dawn was trying to break in spite of the thick cloud cover as Abby opened the gate and walked through the paddock. She entered the shed with the lead rope in hand. “Leggy, wake up. Time for work.”

Three horses lifted their heads. One with a large white bandage.

“Dancer! What are you doing here?” Abby was amazed.

Moonie, Leggy, and Dancer stood companionably in the shed, for all the world like they were stable mates.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Dancer saved her the trouble of having to do anything. He nodded his head, snorted, and trotted away. Abby watched as he sailed over the four-rail fence and casually disappeared up the road to Hogscroft.

“Yeesus Murphy,” she muttered. “I guess he’s feeling better.” Moonie and Leggy stood with her as the sky lightened, all mesmerized by this unusual horse.

The school day passed without incident. Along with her lack of sleep and the constant drizzle outside, other factors added to Abby’s bad mood. Leslie was at home, sick with the flu. Lucy was on a science class retreat. Sam was still avoiding her.

Sam came to her locker after school, and asked if he could pick her up around seven. Abby answered yes, that would be fine, but wondered if his long face meant he might possibly be taking her to a funeral.

Abby caught the school bus to go home. She found a seat at the very back and hoped that nobody would join her. Nobody did. Perhaps low spirits act as a repellent, she contemplated. She didn’t care.

The rain on the windows was soft but consistent. It might be good for the flowers, Abby mused, but it’s certainly hard on the gravel roads. The sky was dull. The farms they drove past looked deserted and dirty. Every car on the road was covered in mud. The world through the school bus window was a study in sepia; brown was the colour of the day.

Abby got off the bus at the end of her lane and slouched toward her house. She pulled up the collar of her coat and stuffed her hands into her pockets.

Cody came running, tail wagging, delighted as always that his mistress was safely home. “Cody, you’re the best,” Abby declared. “But don’t try to cheer me up. I’m too far gone.”

Abby considered taking a nap. Curling up under the covers, making the world disappear. Bliss. Maybe she’d sleep for a week. Nobody would miss her. She sighed.

Lights were on at her house, giving it a welcoming and cozy appearance that cut through the dullness. Maybe things weren’t so bad. Mrs. Featherstone is home, Abby thought. Hmm. She always makes cookies when it rains.

Abby noticed that the Hogscroft truck was parked in the turnaround. She opened the kitchen door to find Hilary and Mrs. Featherstone at the kitchen table and Mrs. James cuddled up in a blanket in the overstuffed chair beside the cheerful fire.

“Abby!” exclaimed Joy. “Just the person we were talking about.”

Tea, fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies, apple slices, and cheeses were laid out on the blue-checked tablecloth with china and napkins.

“Get out of that wet coat and sit down,” said Joy. “Would you like some hot cocoa? It’s all ready on the stove.”

Looking at Joy Featherstone as she bustled around the kitchen doing things to make people happy gave Abby a lump in her throat. Seeing Hilary’s kind face as she pulled out a chair brought a tear to her eye. But it was Christine’s bruised and lopsided grin that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Abby stood dripping rain as her eyes brimmed over.

“Abby, what is it?” asked Hilary, standing.

“My darling girl!” Joy rushed to her.

“Are you all right?” Christine called from her chair.

“I’m fine, really,” Abby spluttered through her tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Here’s your cocoa. Be careful, it’s very hot.” Joy set the steaming cup on the table, and helped her out of her coat and into the chair. Hilary grabbed the box of tissue from the counter and set it beside her.

Abby took a tissue and smiled as she mopped her cheeks. “Ignore me, please. I’ve had a bad day, and the sight of all you nice people made me cry. I’m just so happy you’re all here.” She blew her nose. “Mrs. James, how are you feeling?”

“Better than you, sweetheart,” Christine responded, chuckling good-naturedly.

Abby laughed, joined by Hilary and Joy. She was amazed at how quickly her day-long misery had ended. The warmth and fellowship of her little farm kitchen was an island of contentment on this cold and rainy day. She drank her cocoa, gobbled up cookies, and joked with these women; three generations of the same family. Abby felt like one of them.

“More tea, Mom?” Hilary asked Christine.

“Thanks, dear, but I’ve had plenty. Don’t want to float away.”

“Gran?”

“No thanks, Mousie. Abby? More cocoa, or would you like some tea?”

“Thank you, but no. Oh, I’m going out tonight, Mrs. Featherstone, remember?”

“How could I forget? With that dear young man, Sam Morris.”

Hilary smiled broadly at Abby. “Cool,” she said.

“He’s picking me up at seven. I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m going to try to have a nap.”

“I thought I heard you wandering around in the night. Is anything bothering you, dear?” Joy was concerned.

“No, nothing to worry about. But I’m glad to see that you’re okay, Mrs. James. I feel really awful about the whole thing. You wouldn’t have gone back there if I’d had the nerve to look down the hole to see if Mr. Owens was injured.”

“Abby!” exclaimed Christine. “Get that out of your head! You aren’t the culprit, Samuel Owens is. Don’t forget that. He had a gun, and he tried to use it. You were right to get out of there as fast as you could. I was the stupid one. I shouldn’t have gone there at all. I’ve gotten heck from my old friend Mack Jones, the police chief, about this several times already.”

Hilary’s face darkened. “I hope nothing disastrous happens before Owens is behind bars. I won’t be happy until then.”

“He’s always been trouble,” Joy opined. “From way back in school. He’s a bad apple.”

“He’s sure got a thing against Dancer,” added Hilary. “He’s not over it, even after his time in the mental hospital. Can you imagine planning a trap?”

“How did he know that Dancer would fall into it?” asked Christine. “If that is what he had in mind, and it seems it was.”

Abby thought for a moment, then spoke. “I might have the answer to that. This morning, Dancer was in my shed with Moonie and Leggy.”

The women registered their surprise.

“I know, I was shocked, too. But then I remembered seeing something jump out of the field a while ago. It was chestnut, so I assumed it was a deer. Now I’m not so sure.”

“And the path from your farm to Hogscroft is right through the woods behind Owens’ house.” Hilary was figuring it out.

“Right along the path and into the bear pit,” Joy surmised.

Christine went the next step. “If Dancer has been visiting at regular times and Owens has seen him coming and going, there’s our answer.”

The kitchen was silent as the enormity of the situation sank in.

“Then Dancer’s not safe,” said Hilary. “Here we go again.”

“How can we keep him from wandering into Owens’ hands?” asked Christine. “Build a higher fence? Drug him? Move him away? Hire an armed guard?”

“We’d better come up with something,” said Hilary. “And fast.”

“He sure looked good jumping over the fence this morning,” said Abby. “You wouldn’t guess he was injured except for the bandages.”

“He’s healing remarkably well,” agreed Hilary. “No swelling in his legs, no infection on his head. Dr. Masters was amazed when he checked him this afternoon. He said if Dancer continues to heal this fast, he might be fit enough for the Grand Invitational.”

“Really?” Abby’s eyes popped wide open.

“Only if he’s sound and fit, so don’t count your chickens.” Hilary looked at her watch. “We’ll put up electric wire this afternoon, and see if that keeps Dancer in. It’s after four, so I’d better get going. Go have your nap, Abby, and tomorrow we’ll talk strategy. I’ll give you a program to follow once he’s ready to work.”

“Okay! Call me when it’s a good time to come over,” enthused Abby, completely back to her old self.

Seven o’clock arrived. Abby’d taken a short nap and was bathed and dressed and waiting. She’d worried about what to wear. She didn’t want to look like she cared, but she wanted to look good. She’d decided on a new baby blue cotton sweater and her best jeans.

Joy Featherstone had promised Robert Wick that she’d go to dinner with him, but she wasn’t leaving until Abby had been picked up.

“You don’t look like a girl about to go on a date,” noted Joy.

“And what does that look like?”

“Well, pink-cheeked and radiant, for starters.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Mrs. Featherstone. It’s not a real date. He just wants to talk. I think he’s going to tell me why he dumped me last year.”

“Ahh,” said Joy with a great deal of sympathy. “Why would he do that?”

Abby shrugged. “Who knows? But he sure hasn’t been happy to see me in the halls. I don’t know what to expect.”

“You still like him, don’t you, Abby?” Joy noted warmly.

“I’ll let you know later. I won’t be late.”

Joy took Abby by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Whatever comes, remember, it won’t be the best thing that will ever happen to you, and it won’t be the worst. Take it in stride. Being dumped has happened to us all, and more than once to most.”

“Even you?”

“Even me. In fact, one man who dumped me is picking me up tonight for dinner.” She smiled slyly at the young woman. “It ain’t over ’til it’s over.”

Abby laughed. “You always know exactly what to say to make a person feel better.”

The doorbell rang. Abby and Joy exchanged a look.

“Do you want me to get it?” asked Joy.

“I’ll get it,” replied Abby with assurance. “I’m ready.”

Sam Morris stood at the door, a tall young man with a handsome smile. Abby asked him in and introduced him to Mrs. Featherstone.

“You take care of her, now,” Joy said pointedly as Abby put on her raincoat.

“I will, Mrs. Featherstone. It was nice to meet you.”

“And nice to meet you, too, Sam. Have a pleasant evening.” Joy watched from the window as Sam opened his umbrella and walked Abby to his father’s car.

Joy sighed. “Young love.”

They drove for some time in silence. Sam’s face remained serious and he concentrated on the road. Abby watched the windshield wipers as they cleaned the raindrops rhythmically away. They reminded her of the metronome her old piano teacher had used.

“Where are we going, Sam?” Abby asked.

“To the Roadside Cafe. We can talk there. And their burgers are great.”

“Sam, you’re driving me nuts, you know that?”

“Abby, you’ll understand better when I explain.”

“Well, can I turn on the radio? I can’t bear the silence.”

“Sure.”

Abby found a radio station that she liked, and they pretended to listen. Sam seemed more and more distracted.

“Sam, stop the car and let’s talk. Let’s get it over with. I know what you’re going to say, and I can’t sit here on pins and needles waiting for you to find the appropriate place to say it.”

Sam pulled off the road.

“It’s not like anything you say is going to be a surprise. I’ll take it in stride. It won’t be the best thing that ever happens to me, but it sure won’t be the worst, so just blurt it out.”

Sam looked puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not an idiot, no matter what you think. And I’m not insensitive. I figured this out weeks ago.”

“Figured what out?”

Abby looked down at her hands in her lap, letting her long hair cover her face. “You heard, didn’t you?”

“Heard what?”

“This is so embarrassing.” She took a deep breath. She figured she had nothing to lose. “Heard that I liked you again. I told my two best friends, and I can’t believe one of them told, but then Pam knew, and then you heard and now you want to talk to me about all the reasons why it wouldn’t work out and why it didn’t before, but you don’t have to tell me, I’ve already figured it out, and anyway I’m past all that and don’t even care anyway and—”

“Abby, stop!”

“—I know that I’ll never be your type. But that’s okay because you’re not my type either and we’re way past it anyway. I only wish you’d never heard the rumour.”

“Abby,” said Sam slowly. “I never heard the rumour.”

Abby stared at him. “You never heard the . . . . Then what’s this all about? This ‘date?’ You didn’t ask me out because you like me.”

“Is that what you think?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“What else can I think? You look sheepish when you see me, and you disappear if I enter a room.”

Sam crossed his arms and cleared his throat. “Okay, here it goes, and it’s not going to be easy.” He breathed again. “I’ve been thinking about you again, Abby. I can’t get you out of my mind.” He held up a hand. “Let me talk. When I see you at school I wish that we were together again. When I’m at work or at home, I wish I could see you. We had a lot of fun, right?”

“Right.” Abby didn’t move a muscle. She had no idea where this was going.

“There’s something I have to tell you. Something crazy. Before I can even hope to ask you out again, you should know this about me. Something I didn’t even know myself until recently.”

“What, Sam?”

“Did you ever notice my name?”

“Your name? What about your name?”

“Sam. My name is Samuel. It’s a family name.”

“So?”

“Do you know any other Samuels?”

“No.”

“Think.”

“Only Samuel Owens, but that’s ridiculous.”

“How is it ridiculous?”

“You couldn’t possibly be related.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s a small community. I’d know if you were part of the Owens family.”

“What if we’re related, but nobody is supposed to know?”

“You mean . . . illegitimately?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” Abby sat thinking.

After giving it a moment to sink in, Sam continued. “The Owenses don’t exactly recognize us as family.”

“I can hardly digest this, Sam. How are you related?”

“Samuel Owens is my grandfather.”

“No kidding.” Abby paused to consider. “Your father’s father?”

“My mother’s father.”

“But, Sam,” Abby said. “Your mother’s black.”

“Half black. Her mother, my grandma, is black. Owens is white. Gran worked for the Owenses. She was very young. When she told him she was pregnant, he denied any responsibility and had her fired. Things were very tough for her. Then, when my mother was three, Gran met and married my grandpa and they had two sons, my uncles.”

“Wow,” she repeated.

“Yeah.” Sam leaned back and stared at the ceiling of the truck. “I was at our family reunion last March. I overheard two of my aunts talking about mixed marriages. The Owens thing just sort of came out in conversation. Like it was a given. Then they stopped talking and looked at me. Leslie didn’t hear.” Sam was deeply troubled. “I can’t believe they kept it from me all this time. Why didn’t they tell me? I don’t know which was more of a shock, Abby; to find out Grandpa isn’t related or to find out that Owens is.”

Abby was quiet for a long time. Sam watched her, wondering about her reaction.

“Have you talked to your parents about it?” she quietly asked.

“Yeah. My mother.”

“I can see it’s really eating you up.” Abby said carefully.

“Wouldn’t it eat you up? To find out you’re related to someone like Owens? I wouldn’t blame you if you never want to see me again.” Sam’s voice was harsh.

Abby was stunned. “Why? What’s it got to do with you?”

“It’s the heredity thing. Samuel Owens is my grandfather. What if I’ve got his evil genes? What if I turn into a psycho?”

“You won’t.” Abby spoke softly. “You are one of the nicest guys I’ve ever known. And you won’t go bad.”

Sam stared at her. His eyes shone. “You mean that?”

“Yes.” Abby reached across the seat and touched Sam’s hand. It was a beautiful hand, long-fingered and strong.

Sam placed his other hand over hers and held it tightly. “Abby, my grandfather threatened you with a shotgun last Wednesday. Can you honestly say it doesn’t affect how you think of me?”

“Samuel Owens is a horrible, scary, mixed-up man. What he does affects how I think of him, not how I think of you.”

“I was afraid you’d turn against me.”

“I wouldn’t turn against you because of something someone else did,” Abby said. “Never.”

“Thank you, Abby.”

“Does Samuel Owens know that you’re his grandson?”

Sam looked blank. “I don’t know. I guess so. I mean, he’d know that my mother was his daughter.”

“I’m going to guess he doesn’t want to know,” said Abby thoughtfully. “That he completely refuses to acknowledge his part in this. It’d be in his interest not to be accountable.”

“You’re probably right,” agreed Sam. “Anyway, I’m certainly not going to tell him.”

“This doesn’t affect how you think of Samuel Owens, does it? Now that he’s family?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sam said. “I’ll never think of him as family. He turned my grandmother out, and Grandpa is the only grandfather I know.”

Abby nodded. Another question occurred to her. “Why would your mother name you after someone who’d treated her own mother so badly? Who’d used her, then threw her out into the streets to fend for herself in a world that would’ve been hostile, to say the least?”

“I asked her that.” Sam paused. “She said our family had been living in shame over something that Owens did and got away with. It was always a dirty secret, and why should we help him hide it? ‘Facilitate’ was her word. She said that naming me Samuel kind of released her, was cathartic. ‘Opened the windows’ was how she put it.”

Abby thought about how unfair it was. The more she knew about Samuel Owens, the more she disliked him. She sat looking through the windshield. It was nice sitting in the old red Ford, next to Sam again.

She turned to face him. “So. Is there anything else you want to tell me? Any more hidden secrets?”

“No. That’s it.”

“That’s all? That Owens is related to you?”

“Yes.”

Abby paused and smiled at Sam. “So?”

“So what?” asked Sam.

“Now that you’ve told me, aren’t you going to ask me out again?”

Sam began to laugh.

“That’s what you said, you know, before you told me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Sam slowly stopped laughing. “Abby Malone, will you go out with me?”

“You’re sure you want to?”

“Yes, Abby, I’m sure. I’ve missed you.” He gently encircled her with his arms and pulled her to him. He slowly smiled as his lips met hers. They kissed, pleasant sensations tingling down to their toes.

“Forget the burger,” Abby said dreamily.