Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02] (9 page)

By the time they reached the barn, Ty was already swinging open the back door of the Dickensons’ long aluminum trailer. His stupid-ass cap, frayed almost beyond recognition, was pulled low over his eyes, but Sophie could see the stubborn slant of his jaw and, below that, the sharp jut of his shoulders. He had practically no hips and his legs went on forever, but it was his hands that put her stomach in freefall. His damned hands. They were always dirty, his nails ragged, his knuckles scuffed, but as he led Angel from the trailer, he caressed her neck. And it was that touch, as gentle as a lullaby, that got her. It was so tender, so ultimately caring, as if he could protect her from the world with that one careful hand.

“Soph?” Casie said. Sophie jumped, realizing she’d missed something.

“What?” She tried not to look guilty. Geez, she had nothing to feel guilty about.

“I was wondering if you’d mind cleaning Angel’s stall.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks felt warm again. Maybe she was getting sick. She didn’t have time to get sick. “I already did that.”

“You did?”

“Just because
he’s
slacking off, doesn’t mean we all can.”

Casie raised a brow at her.

Sophie lowered her eyes. “I’ll get her some fresh water,” she said and scurried away.

Casie watched her go. Holy Hannah, she thought, if this place got any more flooded with female pissiness she was going to change the name of the farm to Estrogen Hills or something. As for herself, she took a deep breath and lifted her lips into a smile as Ty turned toward her.

“How’s she doing?” she asked.

The boy’s face was as solemn as a dirge, but there was a guarded meld of hope and worry in his eyes.

“Okay, I think. She seems pretty stiff.”

Casie nodded, doing her best to ignore Dickenson as he rounded the trailer carrying a lead rope. “She’s been through a lot. We’ll have to be really careful with her.”

“The doc left a catheter in her neck and sent along the IV bag just in case. Said we should give her more fluids if she don’t drink enough. And she’s gotta be confined for eight weeks.”

“In the stall?”

“I guess,” Ty said and steadied the mare as a half dozen horses ran up to the fence to see her. Blue reared, mane flying. Tangles stretched his neck over the wire and snorted a greeting. Angel shuffled sideways, excited by their attention. “Easy now,” he said, then to Casie, “She ain’t going to like to be holed up like that.”

“No,” Casie agreed.

“They said to hand walk her five to six times a day,” Colt said, striding up beside them. She’d been ignoring him until this moment. That couldn’t go on forever, but what was she supposed to do? Pretend she didn’t know his secret? Pretend it was perfectly fine to abandon his own child, to leave the baby’s mother to her own defenses? She felt her stomach twist.

“I didn’t know she was ready to come home,” Casie said, “or I would have picked her up myself.”

He shrugged. “I was in the area.”

“In the area of Rapid City . . . with your dad’s stock trailer?”

He grinned as Ty let Angel wander away a little, nosing the grass. “Now don’t go getting all riled up, Case.”

“I’m not riled up.”

“I’m not trying to buy the boy’s affections or anything.”

“Buy the boy’s—”

He leaned closer, lowered his voice, and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Couldn’t do it anyway. Kid thinks you’re Beyoncé and Taylor Swift all rolled into one. Sexiest thing to ever rock a pair of cowboy boots.”

She felt her jaw drop, felt her blood pressure rise, and remembered how much she hated being teased. She had never been a sexy kind of girl, but he didn’t have to remind her.

She opened her mouth to blast him, but Ty spoke. “I guess I’ll get her settled in.”

“Just grass hay,” Colt reminded him, his tone even.

Casie ground her teeth. “We can take care of her,” she said, but Dickenson was already stepping past her, arm outstretched as Ty led Angel slowly toward the barn.

“Hey,” he said, nodding. It took Casie a moment to realize her guest was standing only a few feet behind her. “You must be Linny Hartman.”

Her mind was reeling. How did he always know more about what was happening on her ranch than she did? She slammed her gaze into Emily, who gave her an ethereal smile edged with a noncommittal shrug.

“Yes.” Linette’s voice sounded very precise beside Dickenson’s cowboy drawl. “And you are?”

“Colt Dickenson,” he said and grinned in that slow way that made women act like idiots and idiots act like giggling chimpanzees. “How long you going to be staying at the Lazy?”

“Well . . .” She had to cock her head a little to gaze into his face, a feat she seemed more than willing to do. “I don’t have a
lot
of time, but I hope to be here for a couple weeks at least.”

“It’s a nice place to unwind.”

She raised her brows a little. “I’ve already unwound,” she said. “I’m starting to think it might be time to challenge myself some.”

“Yeah?” He shifted an almost grin toward Emily. “You going to try Em’s razzapple kuchen then?”

It took Linette only a moment to catch up, then she laughed. Emily raised a brow. Casie was just happy she didn’t raise more than that . . . like a middle finger perhaps.

“I’m hoping to master horseback riding.”

“Good for you.” Colt sounded honestly encouraging as he shifted his attention back to the older woman. “How much experience do you have?”

She laughed. “Just a little less than none. How about you?”

He shrugged. “I can keep ’em between me and the ground if they ain’t too rowdy,” he said.

“Mr. Dickenson was ranked thirteenth All-Around cowboy in the PRCA,” Emily said. “Before he got too old and crotchety to get out of bed unassisted.”

He grinned, shifted his gaze back to the older woman. “Em’s a heck of a cook, can’t ride worth a hoot, though. Head Case, on the other hand . . .” He winked at her. “Rides like Annie Oakley, and you should see her throw a punch.”

Linette raised her brows. “Are you a pugilist, too, Casie?”

“No,” she said. “Mr. Dickenson’s just trying to be funny.”

He laughed. “In two weeks, Case’ll have you galloping around the Lazy like Shoemaker at the Derby,” he said, then raised his brows a little as if thinking. “Who you planning to put her on, Case?”

She refrained from spitting at him. He knew good and well that Angel was the only horse suitable for beginners. “I’ll have to give that some thought.”

“Sophie said you have Tangles coming along pretty well.”

“Yes,” she said, but inwardly cringed. Last time she’d ridden the dun gelding, he’d taken a surprising dislike to a loosed tumbleweed and had just about lost her while pivoting away in a panic. Those quick spins looked pretty spiffy during a reining competition, but they were rarely appreciated by neophytes whose knees were shaking in time with their hands.

“What about the Dickensons’ piebald?” Emily asked. “Madeline, isn’t it?”

Casie turned to her like an automaton. How the hell did she know about Colt’s old pinto?

Em glanced at her and shrugged, steady under fire. In fact, she was practically catatonic under fire. “Colt said she’s a sweetheart,” she added.

“Yes, well . . .” To be honest, the bond between Dickenson and Emily had always irritated her, but never more so than now. Who was he to act like the girl’s guardian angel when somewhere he had a child of his own? A child he had never even bothered to mention to her. Something in her midsection twisted at the thought. Last night’s chili, she thought, come back to haunt her. “I’m sure Mr. Dickenson has plans for Mad—”

“I don’t,” he said.

Casie gave Linette a fleeting smile, silently promised retribution to everyone concerned, and turned smoothly back toward Colt. “I can’t ask you to donate your mare for—”

“You didn’t.”

Her smile turned gritty. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Dickenson, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

“Piebald,” Linette said. “That’s a black-and-white pinto, right?”

“Good job.” Colt sounded honestly impressed. “It’s kind of an old-timey term. Not everyone knows it.”

“Like I told Casie, I’ve been reading,” she said. “And I’ve always had a predilection for pintos.”

“Predilection,” Em said, quietly trying out the word for later use.

“Yeah?”

“I was a Scout fan.”

They stared at her and she laughed. “
The Lone Ranger.
Tonto’s horse . . . Scout.” She waved a hand at them. “Before your time. Listen, I don’t mean to make this difficult for you, but I surely don’t want to cut short Angel’s convalescence, either.” She stared up at Colt, silvery brows raised a little. “The last few months have been somewhat . . .” She shrugged. “A little rocky. Truth is, I wouldn’t mind returning home with a few bragging rights.”

“Bragging rights?” Casie stared at her. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you—” she began, but Colt was already sweeping the Stetson from his dark head.

“I’d be proud to provide them for you if I can.”

Casie scowled at him. “Provide what?”

“Bragging rights,” he said and grinned. “Turns out I’m going to be giving Ms. Hartman riding lessons on old Maddy,” he said.

L
inette Susan Hartman paced the horse pasture fence, cell phone to her ear as the recorded message played out for the umpteenth time. “Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

It was an out-and-out lie. She’d learned years ago to smell a falsehood from miles away, was known for that ability, in fact, but she left the message anyway.

“Yes, it’s me again,” she said. She tried to make her tone upbeat and confident, tried to find that hard-line demeanor she’d always been known for, but instead, her voice sounded pale and sadly forlorn in the soft darkness. It had been a long time since she’d sounded this desperate. Decades, in fact. But she’d just been a child then, and certain her world would shatter without her daddy’s presence. She had been wrong, of course. She had survived just fine. Had grown stronger because of his departure. Had learned to survive entirely on her own. Had learned to succeed, to excel. But everything was different now. Everything had changed. “I just thought I’d try you once more. I’ll be out of town for a while, but if you have time to get together, just give me a call and I’ll . . . Well, just give me a call,” she said, and clicking the phone off, she closed her eyes.

She was tired, exhausted really, but the night sounds soothed her. Yards away, the horses grazed together, tails flipping at unseen pests. A cow bellowed. A calf answered. From some indiscernible direction, an owl called. Every sound was quiet and melodious, as old as the earth itself. She filled her lungs with the crisp fall air and let her mind wander. Light-years ago, when she was a little girl, before she had become too scared or too busy to dream, she had thought she would have a ranch of her own some day. Somewhere in Utah, maybe. Or Idaho. She’d marry a cowboy with narrow hips and irresistible dimples who would adore her for the rest of her days. But her life hadn’t turned out quite that way.

A noise distracted her. She turned toward it. A dark pickup truck pulling an aluminum trailer was being driven down the gravel road. Slowing down, it turned onto the Lazy’s bumpy lane and rumbled into the yard before stopping beside the barn.

Colt Dickenson got out. She knew him even in the dark. He had that sexy, narrow-hipped look she had once dreamed about.

Sauntering past the tailgate, he flipped the lights on inside the trailer, then opened the back door. The horse inside was tall and broad, bi-colored and sleepy looking. It blinked at the lights as if just awakening from slumber. Loose in the entirety of the enclosure, the pinto made no move to avoid the cowboy but stepped forward when Colt spoke to her. In a moment she had ambled outside to glance around with unhurried curiosity.

It was a dreamy picture. A cowboy and his horse, backlit with little more than the trailer lights, framed by a thousand acres of rolling cattle country.

“Here we are, old girl.” Colt’s voice was soft, his hands slow as he shifted the mare’s parti-colored mane to the off side of her lengthy neck. “Gonna get you settled in before Casie decides to evict—”

But his words were interrupted by the slamming of a door.

Colt’s sigh was almost louder than his words had been. “That’ll be her,” he said. “She’s probably already madder than a hosed skunk, so you gotta be on your best behavior.”

The mare glanced at the shadowy figure that paced toward them, then lowered her head to crop grass, unfazed by any human drama about to unfold.

“Hey, Case,” Colt said. “Nice night, huh?”

“What are you doing here?” Casie’s voice was low, but Linette had been a student of human nature too long to miss the sizzling emotion that punctuated it.

Colt, however, showed no sign that he had recognized that emotion. Instead, he glanced at the mare with all due casualness. “We’re just catching a little moonlight. Isn’t that right, Maddy?”

There was a moment of silence. “Something wrong with the moonlight at your house?”

“It doesn’t have the same scenery.” He grinned. Linette could see his teeth flash in the darkness. The dimples she had to leave up to her imagination. But she’d been playing them around in her head for so many years it hardly mattered.

“I got your message,” she said.

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t want to get you all riled by showing up unannounced. Just thought I should get the old girl here tonight.”

“It could have waited until morning.”

“Old Mad’s been around,” he said, stroking the mare’s neck absently. “But horses need some time to settle in. Woulda thought you’d know that, Case.”

Even from where she stood, Linette could feel Casie stiffen. “I know what horses need,” she said, then paused and drew a hard breath. “But it’s late.”

“Yeah,” he agreed equivocally. “That happens a lot about this time of day. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No.”

“Doing some bookkeeping?”

“No.”

“You’re not having trouble sleeping, are you?” Reaching up, he laid a casual arm across the mare’s withers. She didn’t bother to stop grazing.

“No. I’m not.”

“You sure?” The pinto shifted her weight a little, bending her left foreleg and bearing Colt a half step closer to Casie.

“It’s almost midnight,” she said. “I could sleep right there on the gravel if people would quit coming down my drive.”

“Was someone else here?”

There was a slight pause. “Phil Jaegar,” she said finally.

“Who?”

“Phil Jaegar.” Her tone was becoming increasingly taut. There was obviously a history between these two, Linette thought, and couldn’t help wondering what it was.

“Oh, yeah. Sophie’s dad, right?”

She didn’t respond.

“The hot-shot realtor. You’re not thinking of selling out again, are you?”

She remained silent.

“Hey, listen, I know it’s hard,” he said. “But your folks worked their tails off for this place. “

Still nothing.

“They loved this land. And each other. I mean, maybe it seemed like they were at each other’s throats sometimes, but that doesn’t mean anything. Hell, some folks even get mad at
me
. Not you, of course. You adore me. But people who haven’t recognized my innate charm and irresistible—”

“I know you know.”

“What’s that?”

She drew a breath. “You probably know more about what’s going on at the Lazy than I do.”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t think so. Why would you—”

“I need you to stop it.”

He canted his head a little, his movements slow, his voice the same. “Stop what, Case?”

“It’s not fair to Emily.”

He shifted his stance, slipping his arm from the mare’s back, stiffening a little. “What’s Emmy got to do with this?”

“She’s pregnant, Dickenson. Pregnant. You know what that means?”

“I think I got a pretty good idea.”

“I bet you do.”

“What does that mean?”

There was a stiff silence, then, “I want you to leave her alone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Quit confiding in her. Quit making her confide in you.”

“I like confiding in her. We’re friends,” he said.

“Friends!”
she scoffed. “She’s a teenage girl. You’re . . .” She waved a hand up and down at him. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“A . . .” He snorted a chuckle. “First of all, sheep don’t have clothing. I would think you’d know that, Head Case. Second, if I have to be in clothes, which I’m not all that crazy about—”

“Just . . . Just quit leading her on.”

“Leading her . . .” He laughed out loud. “You have flipped your—” He paused. “Is that what
you’re
doing?”

“What? No! I have
never
led you on.”

There was a pause filled with a thousand tangled emotions. Linette knew she should leave, knew she should slip quietly into the night and let them have some time alone. She also knew she would do no such thing. Perhaps she missed the drama after all.

“Not me,” he said and barked a laugh. “You’re definitely not leading
me
on. I’m talking about Jaegar.”

“I’m not . . . I’ve never . . .” she began, then drew a noisy breath and tried a new tack. “So you
did
know he stopped by.”

He paused, making it clear, once again, that even a wolf can be caught in a carefully laid trap.

“Emily might have mentioned it,” he said finally.

“Might have mentioned . . .” Casie chuckled. “That’s the only reason you’re here.”

“What?”

“Admit it,” she said. “You’re not interested in me. You never have been. You just like the chase.”

“What are you talking about?”

The night went quiet for a moment. “I know about Jess.”

Silence seeped in again, and when he next spoke, his tone was atypically somber. “You’ve been talking to Hedley.”

“He said she was pregnant with your baby.”

He glanced away for a second. “There’s more to it than you think.”

“So it’s true,” she said. There was a world of agony in those few words.

“Case—”

“But you didn’t marry her.”

“I didn’t love her, Case. It wouldn’t have been fair to—”

“Not fair!”

“Casie . . .” he began, but she was already turning away.

“Go home,” she said and disappeared into the darkness.

He stared after her and swore quietly.

“We don’t owe you nothing,” someone rumbled.

Linette jerked her gaze to the left. A new shadow had worn a hole in the darkness.

Colt turned toward the boy with a sigh. “That’s not why I offered the loan, Ty.”

The boy shuffled his feet a little. “It ain’t like I don’t appreciate the offer. It was good of you to want to help Angel out.”

“But you’d rather owe Phil Jaegar than me. Is that it?”

The boy shrugged, his face barely discernible in the dim light. “If I owed you, she’d feel like
she
did, too.” He jerked his head toward the ranch house into which Casie had disappeared. “That’s how she’s put together.”

“So now she owes the Jaegars.” He paused. “And so do you.”

“Couldn’t be helped.”

“Yes, it—” Colt stopped himself with an obvious effort. “What the hell have I done to make you distrust me? Why are you always so pissed?”

“You left her.” Ty’s voice was little more than a growl in the darkness. “You left her when she was down.”

“She told me to go!” Colt said. “Practically pushed me out with both hands.”

“Leaving’s the quickest way to nowhere.”

Colt jerked his gaze toward the barn, shook his head. Frustration rolled off him in waves. “She was on the rebound. I didn’t want to confuse her. She needed time to think.”

“Seems like you’re the one should do some thinking.”

Colt watched him in silence for a moment, then exhaled softly. “I’ve been thinking since we were kids.”

“Then you should have pretty much figured things out by now, I’d say.”

“It’s not as simple as it seems to you.”

“Maybe it ain’t as complicated as it seems to
you
.”

They were faced off like bad-tempered bulls.

“She’s special,” Colt said, nodding tightly. “I get that.”

“Then how come you run off?”

“I didn’t run off!” he rasped, then drew a deep breath and chuckled. “I would rather have faced her old man than you.”

“Well, he ain’t here,” Ty said. “He up and left her, too, didn’t he? But I tell you what, you hurt her . . .” He spread his legs, shifted his slight weight in an aggressive stance as old as the earth upon which they stood. “You’ll answer to me.”

For a moment Linette thought someone would throw a fist. Thought there would be blood and accusations and acrimony.

But Colt finally shook his head and handed over the mare’s lead line. “You win,” he said and turned silently away.