Brush of Angel's Wings (14 page)

“Are you sure? I don't want to move you if you're injured.”

“Jordan, stop. I fell off a horse, I didn't . . .” Her voice trailed off as she closed her eyes. “I'm okay,” she mumbled, clearly not okay. “Really.”

Jordan took a few moments to assess her. Nothing looked broken, and he presumed she would feel worse if she had more serious injuries. He slipped one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees and lifted her into his arms. “Just relax.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “Is Pepper all right?”

“He's fine.” He hoisted her up into the saddle. She held on to the horn, swaying and barely staying upright. He slid his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over. Once situated behind her, Jordan held the reins in one hand while steadying Kayla by the waist with his other. He clicked his tongue and Pepper headed home.

Her silence bothered him. He'd read once how a concussion caused a deep sleep. She hadn't slumped over, but he hadn't heard anything more than a faint moan.

“You still with me?” He nudged her gently.

After a short delay, she replied, “Yeah.”

“Don't go to sleep.”

“On a horse?”

He smiled. Perhaps her silence had been more a case of humility.

Jordan held a tight rein on Pepper to keep his pace slow. In the background of the horse's steps, bluebirds chirped and a squirrel scurried over the pine-needle-covered ground.

“You were right about it being too muddy for riding.” Her voice slurred a little as though she were sleepy. “And that Pepper was a bit too crazy to be out on the trail.”

He smiled.

“Why is he so calm now?” She tilted her head back to look up at him.

“Maybe because he's done a lot of galloping this morning.” He shifted, very aware of her closeness. “You have to take control and show him who's the boss.”

“Maybe you can teach me how to do that.”

“Maybe.”

At the back side of the Hartzlers' barn, he reined in the horse near the entrance. Pepper, glad to be home, was willing to stand still.

Rachel rushed out of the house, Micah out of the barn.

Keeping his hand on Kayla's waist, and with Micah positioned on the other side to make sure she didn't fall, Jordan slid off the horse. He slowly eased her down from the saddle.

“Are you all right?” Micah's forehead creased with lines.

Still in Jordan's arms, Kayla raised her head off his shoulder. “Yeah.”

The deep lines on Micah's forehead receded. He blew out a breath, putting a hand over his chest.

“If you can take care of Pepper, I'll take her home.”

Micah nodded.

Jordan carried Kayla across the lawn to her parked truck.

Rachel ran ahead and opened the driver's side of the truck.

“The passenger side, please,” Jordan said.

Rachel rushed to the other side and opened the door.

New automobile scent penetrated the air. He glanced at the gunmetal-gray leather seat and hesitated to lower a mud-covered Kayla onto it.

“It's okay. Mud won't hurt the leather. I'm such a fool.”

“I wasn't going to remind you of that.”

“Because you're a good Amish
bu
.” She started to giggle, then grabbed her side and took a sharp breath.

He pulled the seat belt around her and clicked it into place. “By the way, I'm not Amish.” He closed the truck door and, turning, almost plowed Rachel over. “Sorry,” he said, reaching out to steady her.

Rachel looked surprised. “You're driving her?”

“I have a license.”

Jordan trotted around to the other side and climbed into the cab. He cranked the engine and marveled over the brand-new, high-tech system blaring music through spectacular speakers. This was one nice truck.

After paying for his mother's medicine, he had nothing left to make his truck payments and his vehicle was repossessed. Still, his stripped-down S-10 had cloth seats and a factory-standard radio. It wasn't anything like Kayla's top-of-the-line dual-wheel king cab.

“Listen to how all this power purrs under your control. The same way she did in your arms. She's not hurt.” Tangus chortled. “But you knew that when she pretended to be dizzy. She wanted your arms around her. And she felt good there, didn't she? This doesn't have to be the only time. It can be the first time.”

Micah tapped on the window. Jordan pressed the down button, thankful to be distracted once again from thoughts that seemed to pull on him incessantly when Kayla was around.

Micah looked over at Kayla. “I hope you feel better soon.” He turned his attention to Jordan. “I'll fetch you in the buggy.”

“Thank you.
Denki
.”

He waited for Micah to move away before putting the truck in gear. At the end of the driveway, he glanced at Kayla slumped against the window. “Which way do I turn?”

She pointed to the right. “Go about two miles, then turn left on Davy Lane.”

He waited for a car to pass, then eased onto the road. Once he made the left turn, the name of the road dawned on him.

“You have a road named after you?”

“After my grandfather.” She weakly waved her hand. “At one time he owned all of this.”

Jordan read the sign on a brick building as they passed.

“The school's named after him too,” she said.

Because he was watching Kayla instead of the road, the tire dipped into a pothole, jostling them both.

Kayla groaned. “I wish this road was paved.”

“Sorry.” He concentrated on the road and was able to avoid the other washed-out areas.

“I live just over the hill.”

They reached the crest of the hill and his breath caught. A long, tree-lined drive led to a sprawling two-story house with multiple wings and a covered porch. As he drove down the hill, he couldn't help but admire the place.

“You could have a place like this one day, Jordan. Comfortable. Everything you want. All the horses you want.” Tangus wanted to touch Jordan's shoulder but was restrained from doing so.

Jordan parked the truck and jogged over to Kayla's side of the vehicle, trying to push envy aside. It was hard. This was so close to all he'd dreamed of. “You have a nice place,” he said, trying to sound casual. Although she seemed she might be okay, she still looked shaken up. He offered his hand to help her out. Kayla moved it to her waist and reached for his other hand. “I'm too wobbly. I need you to steady me.” Jordan again felt trapped into being close to her. And felt uncomfortable at how much he enjoyed it.

As he set her on the ground, she put a hand against the truck and it seemed her knees buckled slightly. He wasn't sure if it was part of a show or if she was still very weak. He put his elbow out so she could take it.

“Thanks.” She tugged his elbow. “Look, the builders finished the stable yesterday.”

Jordan took in a full view of the impressive stone-sided structure. An iron staircase curled above the horse stable to what looked like a second-story living area. A rooster weather vane capped the roof. Floodlights surrounded the elongated riding arena in the front of the building. The place looked straight out of a magazine.

“Daddy's talking about putting in an enclosed arena as well. Then I can ride year-round.”

Tangus trotted up to Jordan. “You remember the thrill of working with the harness racehorses. All that speed, strength, high-strung temperaments. You can have that and more. You don't want to walk behind a plow all your life. You're not Amish. Instead of smoldering in this heat and coughing up field dust from your lungs, you could work with horses again. Air-conditioned stalls . . .”

“I worked on a horse farm. They bred harness racers.”

“Where was that?”

“Farmington Hills. It's about four hours south of here.”

“I know where that is . . .” Kayla waved her hand dismissively. “This is small compared to those farms. We only have eight stalls.”

“Air-conditioned and heated, too, probably.”

“I'd take you on a tour if I didn't feel so rough.” She pushed her tousled chestnut hair behind her ears, exposing her dirtsmeared cheeks. Her knees buckled a little.

“Can you walk?”

“I think I'll be fine. As long as I can hold on to something . . . someone. Working on a racehorse farm must've been exciting. Did you go to the races too?”

“Most of them.” His mother had never liked that going to the races was part of his job. She'd repeatedly warned him not to become entangled in the excitement of gambling. She said it so often he heard her words at every race.
“A gambler eventually sells his life—and then his soul.”

Kayla pointed to the back door. “You can take me in there and then wait inside for Micah.”

He rubbed his free hand along his thigh, leaving a trail of dirt down the seam, and walked beside her to the door.

“If you're not Amish, then why—”

“Am I wearing the funny clothes?” He snapped his suspenders, then pulled off his hat. “Or are you wondering about the Dutch-boy haircut?”

“Hey, I wasn't going to mention the haircut.”

He laughed. “Rachel did this. Apparently, until she got hold of me, she'd only sheared sheep.”

Kayla laughed but stopped to grab her side.

Concern took over. “Are you hurting?”

“Only when I laugh. So don't make me laugh.”

She paused at the door. “If you aren't Amish, then why are you at the Hartzlers'?”

“My mother was Amish. Before she . . . died.” His voice quivered and he swallowed. “She made me promise to spend time with her relatives. My uncle arranged for me to work for Micah, so I'm here until I figure out what's next.”

He glanced at her truck. “Do you think when you're feeling better you could drive me into town? The library should have computers. I'd like to go online and get information on truck-driving schools.”

She smiled. “Sure, but you don't need the library.” She dug her hand into her pocket, pulled out a rhinestone-studded phone, and held it out. “You can search the Internet on this.”

His phone, before the contract expired, had only the basics—and they could barely afford that. It didn't even have texting options like most of his high school friends had.

She touched it and the screen lit, then handed it to him. “Just type in what you want to search.” She nudged the door open. “Come inside.”

Jordan looked at his grubby clothes and mud-covered shoes. “I better not.” He extended his hand to give back the phone.

“I'll get it from you later. I have unlimited texting, calls, and Internet. Call your friends if you want.”

Jordan smiled. “I lost track of them after high school. They left for college, and I started working at the stables. I would like to do some searches, if you're sure you can do without it.”

“That's the least I can do for someone who rescued me.” She leaned closer. “Besides, I have a laptop and a phone in my room. I won't miss it—much.” She laughed. “It's so weird how our parents never had these things, and we can't live without them.”

“Thanks.” He looked down at the phone in his hand, then back up at her, taking in her beautiful eyes. “I'm glad you weren't hurt badly.”

“You mean other than my pride?”

“That will mend.” He waved and continued down the driveway, glad it seemed she was getting stronger by the minute. With each step he took, a battle raged within him. He attempted to push away all that enticed, trying to settle his mind on what his mother would say was truly important.

Chapter Ten

R
achel held Ginger at a steady trot until she caught up with Jordan walking along the edge of the dirt road. When he saw her, he jammed something sparkly into his pocket. She stopped the buggy and waited for him to board.

“I figured you'd be enjoying Kayla's hospitality.”
Ach
, why couldn't she keep the sarcasm out of her tone? She glanced behind her out the window and, spotting another buggy, she signaled Ginger to trot.

Jordan inched closer to her on the bench. “Careful, jealousy is a sin.”

“I'm
nett
—”

His grin widened.

“What did you shove into your pocket? Are you trying to hide something?”

He reached into his pocket. “You're awfully nosy for someone who isn't jealous.” He showed her the shiny item and said, “It's a phone.”

“I wouldn't have guessed your style to be so fancy.” She had a good idea Kayla gave it to him so they could stay in contact.

Rachel snapped the reins and Ginger picked up her speed. Maybe they would reach the house before Jordan pried open a deeper gash in her heart. Kayla was beautiful. She certainly had plenty of worldly stuff to entice him. Jealousy was a sin, and the last thing Rachel wanted was to admit her jealousy.