Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02] (25 page)

M
addy stood like an equine angel at the hitching rail behind the barn while Linette tacked her up. The equipment was heavy, and Linny was short; she had to hoist the saddle over her head to settle it onto the mare’s broad back. But she liked the challenge, appreciated the strain it put on her biceps, enjoyed the puzzle of cinching it up right. She’d made Colt show her a dozen times a day how to tie the knot in the latigo. Committed to memory how tight to make the cinches.

The bridle came with its own set of problems, but Linette wrestled her way through them, slipping the short-shanked curb between the mare’s teeth, buckling up the throatlatch. Through it all, Maddy waited patiently, reins drooping, tail swishing gently from side to side, banishing the few remaining insects that had survived the first frosts.

Autumn had come in earnest in the last week or so. Out east the apple orchards would be bustling with leaf peepers. But the heart of the West had its own rhythm. The cool, dry weather was perfect for harvesting corn and branding weanlings, for digging root vegetables and mending fences.

Linette inhaled sharply, drawing in every second. She could have tacked Maddy up inside, but she had always liked fall. In her mind it was the time for new beginnings. Other people, she knew, thought of spring that way, but not her. Heidi had been born in the fall. In her wallet was a dog-eared photograph of her toddling through the oak leaves outside their little house in suburbia, but the modest little split level had never been right for her. She wasn’t the domestic type. Not the kind to sit around and bake cookies. Not even the kind to
eat
cookies. She was a doer. Always had been. She’d been sure her daughter would understand that once she was grown. She’d been sure all her hard work would be worth the sacrifices. Because that’s what she’d done. She
had
sacrificed. She had sweated. And she had achieved. That’s the kind of person she was. That’s why she was here. To learn something new. It didn’t matter that she was sixty-four years old. She was still learning. And she would learn this, even if Colt was late and her surgical sites were on fire.

She put a hand to her right hip, took another deep breath, and closed her fingers over the reins near the bit. Maddy followed her willingly into the outdoor arena. Mounting was always a challenge. The stirrup seemed to fall straight from the sky and land practically at her shoulder, but Linette pulled her knee to her chest, shoved her newly purchased Ariat boot into the near leather hoop, and heaved herself into the saddle. That accomplished, she felt better. Hurdles were her thing. She’d cleared a thousand of them in her lifetime, and she’d clear a few more no matter what the doctors said. She wasn’t the type to sit around and mope. Neither was she the sort to suffer through another bout of debilitating treatment in the hopes of gaining a few more weeks spent flat on her back.

Maybe things hadn’t worked out as she’d hoped with her family, but that chapter wasn’t over, either. If they knew her better, they’d know who they were dealing with. They’d know she wasn’t the kind to quit once she set her sights on a goal.

Looking ahead, she hugged Maddy with her calves. The big mare moved into a slow walk, beginning her first circle. Linette was tempted to take her down the road, but she was no fool. She knew her limitations. Instead, she would practice here, learn what she could on her own, and show Colt her accomplishments when he arrived.

Those decisions made, she clicked twice, urging Maddy into a trot. That felt good, right, exhilarating. They did a few circles as Linette screwed up her nerve. The lope was scary as hell, but she threw the mare a kiss, and finally, on the second try, the mare rocked into an easy three-beat gait, gliding along. The rhythm was like magic. The crisp air felt like salvation against her face. With little more than a thought, the mare took the cue to cut through the middle of the ring and change direction. There was a moment of panic as she lurched into a down transition, nearly jolting Linette from the saddle. The extended trot was a bugger to ride, but she’d discovered years ago that easy was not for her. Pushing the mare back into a lope, Linette felt the soaring euphoria of accomplishment once again. She was riding. She was doing it. After dreaming of this since childhood, she was making it happen. Because that’s what she did. She set her eyes on an obstacle, she studied the obstacle, she overcame the obstacle. Just like that jump. Shifting her gaze, she eyed the makeshift obstacle Colt had set up along the north rail of the arena. It wasn’t tall, just a long branch perched between two hay bales a foot or two off the ground. She’d ridden over it more than a dozen times at a walk and a couple at a trot. Maddy tended to drag the branch down at both gaits, causing Colt no end of entertainment.

Linette narrowed her eyes at the jump. The problem was, it seemed to her, they didn’t have enough speed to clear it easily. There wasn’t enough lift during the walk and trot to make an effortless arc over the thing.

She licked her lips, urged the pinto back into a lope, and watched the obstacle. It was just a little thing. She could jump it herself. She pushed the mare past it a few times, making sure Maddy knew it was there, building up her own confidence. Then, after passing it for the fourth time, she screwed up her courage, leaned into the center of motion, and urged her mount toward the rail with her inside leg. The mare went easily, picking up her pace a little, and shifting her ears forward.

The challenge rose up in front of them, but Maddy was game. She gathered herself like a champion, thrust off with her powerful hindquarters, and soared. Exhilaration burned through Linette like a flare gun. It was like flying. Like being truly free for the first time in her life. Like being unshackled. But suddenly her mind flickered, just a little misfire of neurons her doctors had warned her about. For an instant, blackness filled her head, and then the earth came flying toward her like a meteor. There was a moment, just a wild second in time, when Linette was sure she could correct herself, could find her balance. But the ground was coming up too fast, hurtling at her, a world of changes in its wake.

 

“I need you to talk to Em,” Casie said. It had taken all of her nerve to force herself out of the house when she saw his truck in the yard. But just because she had finally admitted there would never be anything between the two of them didn’t mean he should abandon Emily.

Colt settled a roll of twisted wire into the back of his pickup truck and straightened. Turning his head, he glanced over his shoulder at her. Dark, too-long hair brushed the collar of his flannel shirt. “What’s up?” he asked. There was no inflection in his tone and his expression was guarded. But that was fine. For the best, really.

Casie exhaled carefully, steadied her palms against her thighs, and silently assured herself that everything would be okay. Though God knew she was probably lying. “She’s planning to give the baby up for adoption.”

“What!” He turned fully toward her. His dark brows were low beneath his ubiquitous Stetson.

“She says she already signed the papers.”

He swore in near silence and she nodded.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low and quiet, as steady as the earth, as deep as the river. It sucked her in, but she forced herself to stay back, to stay away.

He glanced off toward the windmill. A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Did you tell her she’s making a mistake?”

He shifted his dark gaze to hers, causing her to turn away in self-defense.

“It’s not really my place to tell her what to do.”

“You think it’s mine?” His tone was atypically rough.

“I think . . . I think she needs a friend. You’re her friend.”

For a moment she thought he would remind her that she’d asked him to stay away from the girl, but maybe he wasn’t as petty as she was. He nodded. “Okay. So you want me to . . .” He shook his head, seeming at a loss. When was Richard Colton Dickenson ever at a loss? “What do you want me to say exactly?”

“Tell her not to—” She stopped abruptly, reminding herself that she couldn’t live someone else’s life. Hell, she could barely manage her own. “I don’t know what to tell her.”

He nodded slowly and glanced toward the cattle pasture. Worry was etched on his face, but there was more than that. There was pain, too. An inordinate amount of honest agony. Making her wonder what would have happened if his daughter had been born. She pictured a child with his dark good looks. His mischievous smile. The idea made her stomach clench.

“Well . . .” She made her voice brisk, straightened her spine. “I’d better get back to work.”

“Where is she?” he asked.

“She’s still napping,” Casie said. “I waited until you were done with Linette’s lesson to talk to you. She should be up soon.”

He scowled. “Lin doesn’t have a lesson until later.”

“She said . . .” Casie began, then remembered the agony on the other woman’s face during their talk about giving up babies. “I guess she was just making excuses to get out of the house.”

“Tormenting your guests again, are you?” he asked, and for a second the old Colt shone through. It was like seeing light at the end of the tunnel, but she didn’t need that light. She could make it on her own. Hell, she
was
making it on her own.

“Well . . .” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and glanced away. “I guess I’ll go find Lin. She probably wants to learn to wrestle steers or something.”

Casie nodded. Colt shuffled his feet. They both cleared their throats.

“Well . . . thanks,” she said and turned, pulling herself toward the house as he headed in the opposite direction.

“Case . . .” She turned at the sound of her name, breathless, hoping for something she dared not try to define.

“Yes?” Her tone was too breathless, too hopeful, but he was still facing away from her, body suddenly tense.

“Why’s Maddy in the arena?”

“What?” Something jangled in her soul . . . premonition or worry or a horrific mixture of the two.

“Why’s . . .” He took two more strides and stopped short. “Call an ambulance,” he ordered.

“What? Why—”

“Now!” he snapped and disappeared around the corner of the barn.

Casie pivoted away and raced toward the house, breath coming like a windstorm. “Soph!” she yelled as she burst into the kitchen. “Sophie!”

The girl’s footfalls tapped down the stairs. She appeared before Casie had lifted the receiver from its cradle. “Take a blanket out to the arena,” she ordered, and dialed 911.

“What?”

“For Linette,” she said, but just then someone spoke through the receiver.

“This is Casie Carmichael!” Holding the phone in a death grip, she rasped the words into the ancient receiver. “There’s been an accident at the Lazy Windmill!” she added and rattled off the address.

Sophie swung around and galloped up the stairs. She was back in a matter of seconds, racing past Casie and out the door.

The woman on the other end of the line asked something, drawing Casie back to the conversation. “I don’t know how long it’s been. Twenty minutes? Maybe more. A helmet? I don’t know. Just . . . please . . . send an ambulance quick,” she said and hung up.

By the time she reached the arena, Colt and Sophie were both squatting in the dirt. Linette lay perfectly still between them. Casie’s limbs felt wooden as she ducked between the planks and straightened. The world seemed hazy, rotating in slow motion.

“What happened?” she asked.

Colt rose to his feet and moved toward her with long strides.

Casie stopped in her tracks, momentarily forgetting to breathe. “What—” she began again, but he spoke before she could complete the question.

“It’s probably not as bad as it looks.”

“What are you talking about?” she rasped and jerked past him.

He didn’t try to stop her.

Linette looked inordinately peaceful. They’d covered her with a red-striped blanket. Her eyes were open. She smiled a little, but the expression was somehow off, tilted a little.

“Linette,” Casie crooned, and squatting beside her, reached for her hand. “What happened?”

The elderly woman shifted her eyes sideways and said nothing.

“Linette?” Casie said and wiped a smudge from the other woman’s creased cheek. “Where does it hurt?”

“She injured her leg.” Colt spoke softly from behind her.

Casie turned slightly, snapping her gaze frantically to his. “What?”

“Her leg . . .” He paused and glanced at Linette’s face, but when there was no reaction, he continued on. “It’s not good.”

“Oh.” It was strange that her first inclination was to move away. Even though her eyes traced along the outline of Linette’s body to her leg, she didn’t really want to see. She didn’t want to be there. She simply wanted to distance herself from this woman on the ground. This new disaster. But she remained where she was, maybe held there by fear. “Is it . . . Is she going to be okay?”

He didn’t answer. Beside her, Linette shifted as if trying to sit up.

“No!” They all spoke at once, urging her back onto the ground.

“Just . . .” Casie swallowed. “Just lie still. Everything’s going to be all right.” She wrapped both hands around Linette’s cool fingers, encasing them in her palms.

“What—” Linette’s face scrunched slightly beneath the helmet that remained askew on her silvery hair. She looked disoriented, only slightly concerned. “What happened?”

Casie swallowed her fear as best she could. “You fell off Maddy.”

The scowl intensified. “Maddy?”

Casie stopped a wince, smoothed her expression. “Colt’s horse.”

“I was on a horse?”

“You don’t remember?”

Linette moved her head from side to side the slightest degree. “Well . . .” Her voice was a little hollow, a little empty. “At least I was
on
a horse.”