Heat Wave (Riders Up) (8 page)

The next morning,
Ed felt like he was caught in the jaws of a vise, only the vise was the sides
of Maggie’s truck cab. He drove while Maggie sat far away on the passenger
side. That single kiss hung heavily between them.

He didn’t know how
to repair that fiasco. And he couldn’t quite get rid of the enticing taste of
mulberries.

He toyed briefly
with the idea of quitting, but quickly thought better of that. He desperately
needed the job. No way was he going to slip back into a place like the Resting
Arms.

He checked the
side-view mirrors to see how the trailer was riding. Everything looked fine. Out
of the corner of his eye, he spied Maggie glowering straight ahead. So much for
everything looking fine.

Now, because of
him, she was very committed to the business of horse racing. She had just spent
thousands of dollars refurbishing the barn and purchasing some damn good
horses. He’d feel like a heel to pull out on her now. But he’d feel even worse
if he let himself get involved with her personally. The only thing that could
come from that was suffering, and he’d had enough suffering to last two life
times.

- o -

Equally stiff,
Maggie resolved not to give up on the man beside her; he might not be a flaming
romantic, but he was what she wanted. She’d come to that conclusion during a
night of tossing and turning. She couldn’t quite forget the promise of his body
pressed against hers. Moreover, she didn’t want to forget.

While she had not
set out to find a man, she’d found one. Her bones were humming a lyrical,
romantic tune. That kiss had been as hot as a branding iron. She hoped it was
as effective on him as it was on her.

As they crossed the
Mississippi River at the Quad Cities, Maggie could stand the silence no longer.
“I’ll bet the kids are getting anxious to see the horses.”

Ed jumped as if she’d
popped a balloon near his ear. He scowled before responding, “Yeah, Johnny’s
probably been sitting on the steps watching for an hour or more already.”

“He sure is
excited. Carolyn is too, but she won’t be as transparent about it. She’s too
grown up for that.”

“Yeah, I know. It’ll
be interesting to see how much they like horses once they see how much work’s
involved.”

“If I know my kids,
I think they’ll be enthralled. Both of them. Neither one’s afraid of work, as
long as they know what’s expected of them.”

“Guess that’s my
job.”

Glancing out the
passenger window, Maggie watched the farms come and go. Some were working
farms; most were only shadows of what they once had been. “Yeah, that’s your
job.” Turning her gaze toward her driver, she asked, “How good are you at
teaching, Ed?”

“Don’t know,” he
responded with a half groan. “I’ve had to train a lot of grooms and owners over
the years. Seemed to work out okay most of the time. Guess we’ll find out soon
enough. Results might depend some on how good my pupils are.”

“Maybe I can find a
delicious apple to give my teacher,” Maggie teased, warming to the idea of
having Ed as her teacher. “Or is that what Eve did for Adam?”

Ed turned several
shades of pink and coughed, redirecting his attention to his driving.

Maggie smiled to
herself. Once she made up her mind about something, she seldom changed. Her
mind was made up about Ed Harrington. She could bide her time; she might even
try ignoring him for awhile to see what he’d do. But no matter what he did, Ed
Harrington would be pursued like he’d never been pursued before. Maggie
Elizabeth Magee Anderson was not known for giving up.

CHAPTER SIX

“Boy, they sure are
big,” Johnny declared, his eyes bulging.

“That they are,” Ed
agreed. It pleased him to see the boy’s enthusiasm. It was Johnny’s turn. He’d
waited two weeks watching his mother and Carolyn being instructed on the fine
points of grooming and exercising horses.

Ed had done some
initial teaching with all three of the Andersons, but he much preferred working
with one student at a time so he could devote his total attention to the horse
and one other person. And that also meant he wasn’t always surrounded by the
smell of lavender.

Leading an older
chestnut mare, Ed said to Johnny, “Horses aren’t like a pet dog or cat. For one
thing, they weigh a heck of a lot more than we do. One wrong move and you can
be stepped on or kicked. Horses are naturally skittish. Most anything can
startle them. Even if you do everything right, someday you’ll be stepped on or
kicked. Hurts like hell, but you’ll survive.”

Ed glanced down at
Johnny, whose stare was fixed on the horse’s rear feet.

“This mare,” Ed
said, tying the lead rope to a hitching post and running his hands up and down
the horse’s front legs feeling for swelling and heat, “should be a good one for
you to begin with. She’s mild mannered. Likely close to the end of her racing
career. She’ll make a good broodmare someday.”

“When will we have
babies?”

“Not until late
next winter or early spring. We’ll have to buy their mothers in the fall. You
think you’re going to like the foals, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” Johnny
shot a quick smile at Ed. “They’ll be great. I can hardly wait.”

“I can see that. Maybe
by then you’ll be calm enough with them to help me with the foaling.” Ed
stifled a grin as the towheaded boy puffed his chest. “Now let me show you how
to brush this one. Remember, there’s no time for daydreaming when you’re around
a horse. First, we’ll let her get to know you.”

Ed guided the boy’s
hand toward the mare’s muzzle. Johnny’s eyes widened. With a mild display of
interest, the mare sniffed and then rubbed her large lips his hand.

“That tickles,” Johnny
giggled, pulling back. The mare followed the boy until her head rested against
his chest.

“Think she wants to
be scratched liked this.” Ed ran his fingers along the horse’s neck and between
her ears. “She’s having a good time. Notice her ears—they’re tilted toward you.
Now she’s got one forward and the other back. Horses talk to you with their
ears.”

“No way,” Johnny
said in hushed tones. He stared intently at those ears twitching back and
forth, listening.

“Believe it. If you
see a horse with its ears pinned back, you better do something to calm the
animal or get out of its way. That horse is telling you it’s frightened and
will likely kick or run off, or do both. This old chestnut is having too much
fun right now for any of those shenanigans.

Ed ran a brush
across the mare’s belly; the animal dipped its back asking for more. “Some
horses are social like this one, but some aren’t. You can’t take anything for
granted with a horse. It’s always good to hum or speak softly when you’re
grooming. That way a horse will know where you are. Keeping a hand on its body
as you walk around also helps them keep track of you. Horses don’t like
surprises. They like very predictable, slow moving routines. You think you can
do that?”

Johnny reached for
the brush in Ed’s outstretched hand. “I’ll sure try,” he said earnestly.

Ed smiled inwardly
at the squeak in the lad’s voice. The kid was likely wondering if he had a slow
speed in his body. That was one thing about horses—they taught you how to slow
down. They taught a person how to be alert and relaxed at the same time.

- o -

On the concrete
washing pad next to the barn, Maggie and Carolyn scrubbed a gray gelding that
was away from the track for a rest. Maggie refilled a water bucket with a hose
and looked over to see Ed working with her son and the mare.

Ed’s patience often
surprised her. He had the patience of a good father. She closed her eyes,
blotting out the intimate scene that conjured up. Where had that idea come
from? But she was right. He would make a good dad, although that was probably
the furthest thought from his mind.

Routines were
settling in at Anderson Stables. Ed had taught each of them how to muck out a
stall well enough for it to meet his approval. He was very finicky about such
things. Every morning after one of them thought they had done it just right he’d
would come by and inspect. Too often, he discovered a wet spot. “You can’t have
a race horse with bad hooves,” he would intone. Without any display of anger,
he’d reinstruct the embarrassed worker in the proper way of cleaning the stall
until it was done right. There were fewer mistakes each day.

Cold water
penetrated Maggie’s tennis shoes. She peered down at the overflowing pail and
lurched backward, jerking the hose away. The spray caught Carolyn full in the
chest.

“Mom!” the girl
shrieked, dodging from the cold water.

Instantly, the
gelding shied back and forth, nearly stepping on mother and daughter.

Maggie pulled the
lead rope sharply, getting the nervous gelding’s attention. “It’s okay, big
guy. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Sorry, Carolyn, I guess I was daydreaming.”

“What the hell is
going on here?” Ed uttered the demand through clenched teeth, obviously trying
not to further excite the horse.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie
stammered, her cheeks flushing rosy pink. “It was an accident. I was
thinking…what to have for supper.”

Seeing irritation
flicker across his face, Maggie stood her ground, wondering what had made his
patience evaporate so rapidly. He seemed to exercise much more tolerance with
the kids than with her. The entire Anderson family stood with slumped shoulders
waiting for Ed Harrington to burst.

Ed glared at the
three of them. Maggie watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall as if he were trying
not to shout. At last his words came out of an icy calm.

“This isn’t a game
you’re playing. These are high strung thoroughbreds, not Shetland ponies. They
can step on you, kick you or bolt if you startle them.”

Holding her breath,
Maggie tried not to react to his insinuation that she and Carolyn had been
playing a game. She watched Ed approach the gelding and run his hands softly
over the animal’s withers. Clinching her teeth, she fumed at his disregard for
her ability to calm the unnerved horse—and at his fingers soothing the horse’s
flesh.

Stepping back from
the horse, Ed sighed, “Okay, no harm was apparently don this time. But none of
you can let your minds wonder. You’ll screw up, and the next time you’ll be
flat on your back or worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Maggie
mumbled, unable to make eye contact with her hired man.

“Sorry doesn’t cut
it with horses. They don’t know the meaning of the word. You’ll have to do
better than that.”

Maggie nearly
wilted under his paternalistic glare. Remembering who she was, she squared her
shoulders in defiance. Damn, she was the boss. It was her money that paid this
guy. Her cheek twitched. What a farce. She was trying to run a business she
knew next to nothing about and was catching abuse from a man who didn’t care
one iota about her.

“Another thing,” Ed
thundered. “How many times do I have to tell you to wear boots when you come
down to the stables?”

Maggie gulped and
peeked down at her offending sneakers. He was right; she’d been in such a hurry
to help with the chores she’d forgotten to change shoes.

“And, you, young
lady,” he groused at Carolyn, who took a step backward, “get yourself dressed
the next time you come down here.” With that demand hanging heavily in the air,
Ed stomped into the barn leaving his workers to gape at each other.

Oh, my. Maggie
clamped a hand over her wide open mouth. He was right again. Damn him. Carolyn
hadn’t worn a bra. Her pert nipples and small round breasts were on full
display through the soaked yellow tank top.

“I don’t think
horses give a damn what I wear,” hissed the fourteen year old, finding her
voice.

“Don’t look so
mortified. Ed’s right, you forgot to put on a bra this morning.” Maggie’s mouth
turned up slightly. “Besides, there aren’t any boys out here to attract.”

“Mom!”

Watching her
teenage daughter stalk toward the house, Maggie wondered why Carolyn hadn’t put
on a bra. The only male to see her was Ed Harrington and he was old enough—she
shivered—to know better, that was for sure. A mother daughter talk was in order,
most definitely.

She and Ed
Harrington would at least agree on that. His overreaction earlier began to make
more sense. He’d been enraged at Carolyn’s brazenness. That was understandable,
yet he did seem overly protective of all of them. Yes, each of them would
probably be stepped on or kicked at some time. Ed couldn’t prevent that from
happening.

Turning to speak to
Johnny, Maggie shrugged seeing the boy had already returned to brushing the
mare. Ed stood next to him clucking about something. Damn, she was getting
tired of the tension. She knew it wasn’t all caused by the horses, saving the
land, or girls without bras.

Whether he’d admit
it or not, she’d gotten under his skin just as he was definitely under hers. He
was like an itch that wouldn’t go away; trying to ignore the annoying ache didn’t
seem to be working at all.

Later that evening,
Maggie sat across from her pouting daughter in the small room she
affectionately called her office retreat. After Mason’s death, she’d turned a
tiny bedroom into a den of sorts. Slouching piles of bills and ledgers sat on
one corner of an oak desk. A computer took up space on another corner. Dust across
its keys attested to the amount of time she devoted to learning how to use it. That
was the problem. It took less time to enter the figures in a ledger than it did
to learn how to manipulate a spread sheet. On the floor beside the desk and in
front of the small sofa across from it, where Carolyn sullenly waited, sat
piles of tattered magazines and books on horseracing.

Supper had been a
silent affair. Ed stayed away; no one seemed in the mood for conversation.

Reluctantly,
Carolyn had joined her mom. She sat rigidly, refusing to soften her defiant
stance.

Maggie glanced at
the framed picture on her desk. It had been taken at a family picnic three
years earlier. Everyone seemed so happy then. Did the picture lie? Just a
little? Sure, there had been conflicts. Most families had some, just like most
family pictures lied, a little bit. Three years ago no one could have foreseen
what was to happen—Mason’s death, Anderson Racing Stables, a haggard stranger
becoming her hope for saving the land, that same stranger wreaking havoc on her
mind and body. The picture remained an important memento of the past; it had
nothing to say about the future.

Frowning, Maggie
wondered what Mason would have said to his daughter about her untoward
behavior. She shook her head. It didn’t matter what he might do. She was the
only one there to deal with the situation. Patience. She needed patience.

“Well, what were
you trying to do going down to the barn without a bra on?” Maggie inquired
gently, trying not to accuse. “You’ve grown to be a young woman. You have to
dress like one.”

Carolyn’s sulk
deepened. Was this the beginning of the dreaded teenage rebellion? They had
been spared most of that, so far. She’d always enjoyed their mother daughter
confidences. Now, she feared part of who they’d been was slipping away. “We’ve
always been able to talk. I’m more upset with your withdrawing from me than
about the show you put on at the barn.”

A trace of a smile
crossed Carolyn’s lips.

“Not wearing a bra
was a deliberate choice wasn’t it?”

Her daughter’s eyes
went wide with fear; then she nodded hesitantly.

“Why? Surely, you
don’t think Mr. Harrington…”

“Oh, Mother,” Carolyn
interrupted, crossing her arms across her chest. “You don’t know what it’s like
to be ignored. Boys don’t seem to notice me. You had Dad, and now Ed can hardly
keep his eyes off you.”

Maggie blushed.

“I just wanted him
to notice me. I’m not stupid. God, he’s old enough to be my father. I just
wanted to be noticed. He hardly ever looks at me.”

Moving to hug her
daughter, Maggie murmured, “Guess you got his attention. Promise you won’t pull
a stunt like that again.”

“You don’t have to
worry about that,” she said biting her lip. “I’m so mortified. I didn’t think
he’d freak out, though. I thought women were supposed to tease men.”

“Not all men like
to be teased. Especially men like Ed Harrington.”

Maggie watched her
daughter try to stifle her sobs. “You know, I do remember what it was like to
be fourteen. Boys my own age seemed so immature. I dated a senior briefly, but
he wanted much more than I was ready to give.”