One Brave Cowboy (14 page)

But would he ever get there?

“And it
has
been a hell of a day.” He slapped his knees. “We're going out for supper.”

“T
ruce, Cecilia.”

The bread truck door sounded like a lid slamming shut on a tin box. Celia had seen it coming, but she'd kept right on currying the big gray saddle horse, so much more deserving of her attention than the driver of that damn truck. Grooming a horse on the shady side of the barn was her favorite chore at the Double D. It was therapeutic.

Dealing with Greg would require all the tranquility she'd attained.

“See?” He took off his cap and waved it above his head. “White flag. We have business to discuss.”

“I don't want you coming here, Greg.” She turned
to the tool bucket and traded the currycomb for a body brush. “I work here.”

“You volunteer here. It isn't like you're punching a time clock.” He pulled up short as soon as he hit the shade. “If you're reasonable about this, it'll only take a minute, and look—” He made a sweeping gesture, taking in the view of three teenagers stacking square bales with Hoolie Hoolihan, who'd been ranch foreman since Sally and Ann were children. “Witnesses.”

Hoolie noticed Greg's gesture and started moving in their direction. Any other time Celia would have welcomed the older man's conversation, but she didn't want anything to prolong Greg's stay. “No, we're okay, Hoolie,” she called out as she waved him back.

“Just here to say hi,” Greg added.

“And what else?” Celia asked quietly.

He jammed his hat back on. “Hey, I went by your place, didn't go inside, didn't even get out of the van. Your car wasn't there, but his pickup was. Sounds like you've got him doing a little carpentry out there.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Anyway, I saw your car here.”

She was going to start parking behind the barn. She stared at the big sliding door. Maybe she could fit her little car in one of the stalls. Her question was still hanging in Greg's aggravating limbo.

“Where's Mark? Did you leave him with that Indian?”

“Mark has school this week. You have his schedule. What business do we have to discuss?”

“We got a settlement offer.”

Celia turned to apply the big brush to Tank's gray coat, running her free hand over the warm hair.

“Tichner says it's good, but they'll do a lot better. Insurance companies don't want to go to court on a case like this. Loss of an eye is bad enough, but there's obviously serious brain damage. Speech, hearing—no matter what the doctors say, none of that's functioning. I mean, it's been how long now?”

She turned and stared at him, knowing her eyes looked as cold as he made her feel.

“Almost three years, right? So Tichner says we turn the offer down. Look at this. He says we can do way better. We have to, right? I mean, the lawyers take a third after they pay every cost they can come up with. So we both need to sign off on this.”

“I'm not signing anything.”

“Why not?”

“I'll get in touch with the lawyer myself.” She kept on talking while she put the brush back in the rubber bucket and gave Hoolie a high sign, pointing to the horse. Hoolie signaled back. “We're going to go back to communicating through third parties. I feel like you're stalking me.”

“So you got yourself a bodyguard?”

“I'm going inside,” she told him. “I'm not signing anything except a restraining order if you don't stop this. And I don't care how many lawyers you hire.”

“You're lucky I didn't press charges on your boyfriend.”

She kept walking.

“My lawyer has a private investigator—”

Damn. He was following her. She didn't want a scene. Not here. This was
the sanctuary
.

“Leave me alone, Greg.”

Sally's husband, Hank, appeared on the porch. “What's up, Celia? Is this guy lost?”

“I wish he'd
get
lost,” she grumbled as she mounted the steps to the big covered porch. Greg cursed under his breath and began to head back toward his truck.

“I'll be glad to give him the message.”

“No, Hank, it's okay. The sheriff's already taken dueling complaints over Greg's little tussle with Cougar.”

“That must've been fun to watch. You didn't get a video, did you?”

“It's not something I want to see again. Once was…” She smiled at the tall, rangy Indian cowboy with the stony face and kind eyes. “Actually, once was pretty thrilling, but don't tell anyone. Is Sally…”

“She's taking a little siesta.” He glanced past her. “The bread man is leaving.”

The truck door slammed, the engine roared and the tires squealed.

Celia closed her eyes and sighed. “I'm sorry, Hank.”

“For what? He's your ex for a reason. If he chooses to go around with the reason as good as tattooed across his forehead, that's not your fault.” She opened her eyes and was greeted with a smile. “Just makes us love you all the more.”

“It's Mark I'm worried about. That man's his father.”

“We love Mark, too. Sally has a special affinity for him.”

“That's why I wanted to talk to her. Mark has made real progress since we've been coming here, and now with Cougar's horse…” She was almost afraid to tell anyone. She might jinx it. “Something really amazing is happening.”

“You want to have a seat and tell me about it?” Hank gave a nod in the direction of a pair of high-backed porch rockers. “I know a little something about therapy. And rodeo cowboys get their share of head injuries.”

Celia dropped into the chair and rocked back, taking comfort in the soothing motion. Hank was a physician's assistant who worked the rodeo circuit with a sports medicine team. He was also a farrier. He understood the nature of healing and what it took to promote the process.

“The mustang—they named him Flyboy—twice now Flyboy has walked right up to Mark and put his head down so they could check each other out.”

The other rocker squeaked as Hank took a seat. He gave her his full attention, eyes lowered respectfully in the Indian way. “They haven't done that much with him,” Celia explained. “No hackamore or halter, no saddle blanket, nothing like that. Cougar just finished repairing the corral.”

“At your place?”

“That's another thing I wanted to tell Sally. She can add that to Cougar's paperwork. The horse is at my place now.”

She didn't know why she felt compelled to explain the horse's whereabouts in the middle of her miracle story. Maybe her news didn't surprise him that much. Or maybe he was respectfully multi-tasking.

Keep it light, Celia. The neighbors don't need any more complications.

“I'd love to have her come out and inspect it.”

“Oh, I'm sure she'll wanna look into this situation. You and Cougar?” Hank chuckled. “She'll be on the phone with Mary Wolf Track as soon as she gets an update. Those women had you pegged for a couple the night of Mary's medal celebration.”

“Sally must not have enough to do.”

“Right.” Hank rocked back. “I'd like to see Mark with his Flyboy myself. Seems like it might be a little risky, putting them together this soon.”

“Mark marches to the beat of his own drum. He got in there with the horse when we were standing close by. Cougar was right behind him, but then it just happened. It was like they made a connection. Mark and Flyboy.”

“I believe it. Horses are wondrous creatures. I never realized how amazing they are until I fell in with these mustangs.” He flashed her a bright-eyed smile. “And Mustang Sally.”

“I was thinking…I know you've got a lot going on here, but what about a horse therapy program?”

“For who?”

“Cougar…” She was going too far too fast. She lifted one shoulder. “Well, Cougar's had some experience with a…special program.”

“For kids?”

Celia shook her head tightly.

“For veterans.” He needed no confirmation. “So what are you thinking?”

“Right now I'm thinking,
hoping
my son's about to give me ideas. Give
us
ideas. He's on the verge of a breakthrough, Hank. He's been to so many doctors, and not one of them has been able to reach him the way these horses have.”

“We've got our hands full here. 'Course you start talking to Sally, she'll grow another hand.” He patted hers. “Or match up a new pair.”

“It's just the germ of an idea.”

“Don't tell her that. Sally loves germs.” He gave
a chin jerk in the direction of the window on the far side of the front door. “She's got files full of them in there. It's a wonder her computer hasn't been quarantined.”

“Hey, Night Horse, are you out there rockin' and rollin' with another woman?”

Celia and Hank exchanged mock-guilty glances. He turned his head toward the window again. “She came to see you, but when she found out I was available…”

“Hey, Celia.” The front door opened, and Sally stepped onto the porch. She was limping, but she wasn't using her cane. “I didn't know you were on the schedule today.”

“I had—” Celia and Hank took to their feet simultaneously “—some extra time.”

“Not by my calculations. I had you keeping time with one of our most promising contenders.” Sally tucked herself under her new husband's arm. “And not this guy. He doesn't compete.” She looked up at Hank. “Or is that compute?” Back to Celia with a sassy smile. “Put it this way, he has no idea what's in my files.” She poked her husband three times just above his belt buckle, once for each word. “Must love germs.”

Hank laughed. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, but I put the squeak in these chairs so I don't miss anything.” She turned to Celia. “I like
your idea. What's Cougar planning to do with that flashy horse he picked? Endurance?”

“I haven't mentioned this therapy thing to him. It's something that just started…incubating. As I was telling Hank, Cougar hasn't gotten that far yet, but I think he has his heart set on endurance. He's done it before.”

“That man's made to endure, no question. As far as the heart's concerned, though, these horses have a way of changing hearts. Human hearts. Horse hearts are pretty steady, but human hearts…” She patted Hank's chest. “People think they're headed in one direction, they meet up with wild horses and they get turned around. Find themselves coming full circle.”

“Maybe they just find themselves,” Hank said. He was clearly the no-nonsense side of the Night Horse equation.

“I like your idea.” A slow-rising Sally smile boded well for
some
body's idea. “Could we make a little video? Mark and Flyboy?”

But maybe not Celia's.

“I don't know about…” Celia glanced at Hank. He rolled his eyes. “What kind of a video?”

“Just a little home movie. Of course, it couldn't be used for anything without your permission, and maybe it wouldn't even turn out to be useful for anything except my extensive files. But it sounds like you've got something going that could help people.”

“And horses,” Hank said. “The more we discover
about them, the better people like having the wild ones around.”

“And we need to see the work in progress with Mark,” Sally said.

“He's not a guinea pig.”

“He's a kid who's building confidence his own way. You try to minimize the risk the best you can, but let him take the next step. These are the good times.” Sally spoke from experience. “I like your idea. It's exciting, Celia.” She looked up at her husband. “Isn't that right, cowboy? It would be a challenge, but how exciting!”

“What, were you experiencing a dull moment?” Hank raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for spreading your germs around, Celia. Seems my wife had an empty petri dish hidden somewhere.”

“I keep them in files, not dishes.” Sally laughed. “Ah, cowboys. They love their poetry, but they're forever mixing their metaphors.”

“I'll do some research,” Celia said.

“Even more excitement,” Sally enthused. “Life gives you a little mold, you make penicillin. Without the germs and the people who spread them around, life would be nothing but a bowl of boring cherries.”

Now who was mixing metaphors?

 

Cougar heard the car coming. Celia had gone off to do her thing at the Double D, and she was bringing Mark back with her from the bus stop.

Damn, he needed one more hour to finish up his first satellite deck. But it was usable for tonight. Mark could roast marshmallows in the new fire pit while the Western sky put on its nightly show. Cougar stashed his toolbox out of sight and hurried to meet them as they got out of the car in front of the house.

“Come this way. Eyes closed. Here.” He tucked a hand from each of them into the back pockets of his jeans. “Close your eyes and come along like good little tail feathers.” He smiled when he reached back to lay his hand over Mark's eyes and found them already closed. The ears were working now. “Ta-
tum
ta-
tum,
” Cougar chanted, bending knees on the downbeat as he led the dance. Celia had pinned the word
silly
on him, and it seemed to be sticking. “Ho!” The big tail feather crashed into him. The small one did not.

He reached back, pulled precious hands from his pockets and squeezed them as though they were On buttons.

“Ta-da.”

Cougar, you are one lovesick puppy.

“Oh, yes.” Wide-eyed and thoroughly charmed, Celia stepped up on the wooden hexagon.

He'd cut a square hole for the fire pit in the center—the most time-consuming part of the project—and lined it with fire bricks, which he'd bought without telling her. He'd showed her his plans, but
he had the feeling she hadn't expected him to come through. Once he got going on a project, he tended to improvise. He'd added the fire pit during the improvising stage.
Pure genius.