Sweet Nothings

by Catherine Anderson

  “I’ll let him have a little to drink here in another minute.” He put the bucket inside the corral again and stepped away so the horse would approach. “Only enough to wet his whistle, though. Then I’ll walk him some more. You keep doing that until the horse no longer seems eager to drink. It should be safe then to let him have all the water he wants.” He moved forward to reclaim the bucket. “If I let him load up right now, he’ll founder or colic. Nine times out of ten, that kills them.”

  Molly felt foolish, and she hadn’t the faintest notion what to say.

  A couple of minutes later, Jake finally allowed Sunset to have a bit of water. Then he lured the stallion around the corral again. Molly noticed now that he was checking his watch. When the horse had cooled down, he refilled the bucket and left it inside the corral. He looked thoughtful as he moved to rejoin Molly.

  “It appears to me you don’t know a hell of a lot about horses,” he said conversationally as he rested his arms on a rail. “Can you explain that to me?”

  “Just because I’ve never seen anyone cool a horse off in precisely that way doesn’t mean I’m totally ignorant about them.” Afraid she might appear tense, she lowered her arms from around her waist. They felt like lengths of stiff hose bracketing her body. “In town, most people board their horses and pay someone for the everyday care.” That much wasn’t a lie. Rodney and his Yuppie friends boarded their horses, and she knew they seldom did any actual work. “I hired a trainer and was never directly involved in Sunset’s daily routine.”

  In the sunlight, she could see the squint lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes. His thick, dark lashes cast feathery shadows onto his lean cheeks. “Are you familiar at all with farms and ranches?”

  “Farms and ranches?” She sensed her answer was important and that, for reasons beyond her, Jake Coulter might refuse to work with Sunset if her ranch experience was limited. “I’ve been around them all my life.” She thought of the countless times she’d driven past farms and ranches on her way into Portland. That qualified. She’d been around them, right? “Why do you ask?”

  He glanced at her wrinkled blouse and slacks. “I’m just trying to get a handle on how much practical experience you have with horses.”

  Zilch. “I’m no expert, as I said, but I’ve got enough experience to get by.” The trick was in avoiding the beasts entirely, an endeavor she’d been totally successful at until today. “I fall somewhere between beginner and intermediate.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “I see.”

  Molly was beginning to worry that he really did see, which wouldn’t do at all. “Sunset’s life is on the line. Without your help, I’m afraid he’ll be destroyed.”

  His gaze moved past her to settle on the Toyota. “It’s apparent you need help.”

  “Well, then? My experience with horses isn’t the issue.”

  “I didn’t say it was. It’s just that in training like this, owner participation makes all the difference.”

  “Owner what?”

  “Owner participation. I know it may seem like a lot to ask, but one thing I insist upon is that the owners come out to work with their horses several times a week.”

  Molly felt as if the ground disappeared from under her. She threw an appalled look at the stallion.

  Jake raised his dark eyebrows. “Is that a problem? It won’t be much help to you if the horse will respond only to me.”

  For some reason, Molly had likened this situation to dropping her car off with a mechanic. She’d planned to simply leave Sunset here, then come back to pick him up when he was all fixed. “You expect me to—to go in there with him?”

  “It’s a little hard to work with a horse from this side of the fence.”

  She recalled her vow not to be a quitter this time. But, oh, God, she’d never bargained for this.

  “I’ll take every precaution to make sure you’re safe,” he assured her. “And I’ll always be close at hand in case anything goes wrong. Does that ease your mind any?”

  Only marginally. “I, um … I live quite a distance away, Mr. Coulter. Driving that far several times a week will be impossible for me.”

  He glanced at her Toyota again. “Looks to me like you’re living out of the back of your car at the moment.” He rested his weight more heavily on the fence rail. “It also looks to me like you packed in an all-fired hurry.”

  She couldn’t very well deny the evidence he could see with his own eyes. “I’m sort of—relocating.”

  “So the distance you’ll have to drive won’t necessarily be a problem. You can light somewhere nearby.”

  Her throat had gone so dry that her larynx felt as if it was moving up and down inside a tube of sandpaper. “I suppose that’s possible.”

  He turned to face her, all trace of humor vanishing from his gaze. “That being the case, your working with the horse on a regular basis shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Her courage deserted her, and she almost sold Sunset down the river by blurting out the truth. Just as she parted her lips to speak, she glanced at Sunset. In the slanting sun-light, the blood that beaded his wounds glistened like rubies against black velvet.

  Guilt was such a terrible thing, plaguing you every waking moment and then following you into your dreams. Molly remembered the countless nights she’d paced the floors, unable to sleep. Twice in her life, she’d failed people she loved, and they’d both ended up dead. She truly didn’t know if she could live with another death on her conscience, even if Sunset was only a horse.

  “No, working with him shouldn’t be a problem,” she said shakily.

  “Good.” Coulter straightened away from the fence. “I couldn’t help but notice that your rig is riding on empty. Can I take that to mean you’re short on cash?”

  Molly straightened her shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see how my finances are any of your business, Mr. Coulter.”

  “They’ll become my business quick enough when I’m looking to get paid and you don’t have the money.”

  “How much do you charge?”

  “Five hundred a week. That covers everything, not just the training, but boarding the horse as well, which can be expensive when you tally up stable wages and feed.”

  Molly’s heart sank. “That seems a little steep.”

  “You said it best. Horses like that are dangerous, and not just anyone will work with them. I’m damned good at what I do. My services don’t come cheap.”

  “I’m sure you’re worth every cent. I don’t mean to imply that you aren’t.” She rubbed her arms, feeling suddenly cold despite the warmth of the day. “How long do you estimate that it may take to get Sunset calmed down?”

  “Could take as little as a month, or it may take six. It’s impossible to predict. Some horses don’t respond at all.”

  “Oh, my.”

  “I have a good success rate. Most of the time, a horse will hook on with me, but it’s always a gamble. Regardless of the outcome, my fee is the same. I can’t see my way clear to work for nothing simply because a horse proves to be beyond help.”

  Molly didn’t blame him for that. He couldn’t run a ranch successfully on charity. “Actually, Mr. Coulter, five hundred a week will put me in a bit of a pinch. Would it be possible to work out some kind of payment plan?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “I hate to sound mercenary, particularly when an animal has been so cruelly abused, but I can’t take any jobs on credit right now. Like I mentioned before, I’m just getting this place on its feet. Things are really tight, and I need to see my money up front. I’ve got only so many hours a day to devote to horse training, and right now, that’s paying my bank loans.”

  Molly had gone to an ATM before leaving Portland, but the machine had stopped spitting cash after the daily limit, giving her a thousand in her wallet, all totaled. She’d spent some of that on gas to get here. She had another eight hundred in checking, the only account available to her right now, but she didn’t dare touch it. All ban
k and ATM transactions could be traced.

  If she gave Jake Coulter a small deposit, she might have enough money left over to survive until she found a job, but there was no way she could afford to cough up five hundred dollars a week. Not unless she meant to sleep in her car and scavenge for food until she found work. If she found work. Most employers asked to see an applicant’s identification, wanted a list of references, and needed a social security number on file. Just in case the police had an APB out on her, she didn’t dare give out that information.

  Her head was starting to ache, whether from tension or lack of nourishment, she wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. Pain was pain, and this particular brand was whipping her thoughts into a jumble with the brutal efficiency of a wire whisk.

  “Well … that pretty much throws a wrench in the fan blades, I guess.”

  “I accept credit cards,” he offered.

  That was no help. Crazy, legally incompetent women weren’t allowed to carry plastic. Oh, how Molly despised Rodney Wells in that moment. “I’m afraid I don’t have a credit card.”

  He drew off his hat to rake his fingers through his hair, leaving thick furrows in the glistening strands of brown. After staring at the ground for a long moment, he gouged the dirt with his boot heel.

  Molly could see that he was trying to think of a way he might help her. As much as she appreciated his concern, she could think of no way around the money problem and doubted he would, either. Her heart twisting painfully, she kept her gaze carefully averted from Sunset, afraid she might embarrass herself with tears if she let herself contemplate what might be in store for him.

  “It looks as if I’ve troubled you for nothing,” she said, forcing out the words around a lump in her throat that seemed to grow larger by the second. “Thank you for—”

  He held up a staying hand, cutting her off in midsentence. When his gaze met hers, she saw that the twinkle of amusement had returned to his eyes, only this time she had the impression that he was laughing at himself and not her. “Can I be totally frank with you?”

  Molly had a feeling he was about to speak his mind whether she gave him her leave or not. “Certainly.”

  “I love horses, and I instinctively like you.” His voice dipped to a husky timbre. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep at night if I turn the two of you away.” He hooked a thumb toward her rig. “I have a real bad feeling you’re out of work, out of luck, and almost out of money. Am I right about that?”

  Molly tried to smile and failed miserably. “That pretty much covers it.”

  “Do you even have anywhere to stay?”

  A flush of shame moved up her neck. Now she knew how homeless people must feel. “Not at present. I’ll stay at a motel until I find a job, I guess.”

  “With a horse in a trailer? You can’t keep that stallion locked up indefinitely.”

  Molly hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. She’d left Portland this morning with only one thought driving her, to deliver Sunset to this man.

  Thinking quickly, she said, “Maybe I can pasture him somewhere.”

  “You can’t pasture a horse like that just anywhere. He could kill somebody.”

  She hugged her waist and shifted her feet, trying frantically to think. It was true; Sunset was dangerous, and pasturing him somewhere wouldn’t be safe. Only someone like Jake Coulter could deal with a horse that difficult, and the man charged more than she could possibly afford.

  She thought of the fortune that her father had left her. All that money, sitting in the bank, and she couldn’t get her hands on a single cent of it. Oh, God… oh, God. Without Coulter’s help, Sunset might be destroyed, and she’d be powerless to prevent it.

  She couldn’t say why she cared so deeply about a horse. She only knew she felt an affinity with the stallion that defied all reason. Maybe her feelings stemmed from the fact that they’d both been nearly destroyed by the same man, albeit in different ways. If she failed to save the horse, would she be able to save herself?

  Struggling to hide how devastated she felt, she thrust out her hand to Jake Coulter and forced a smile so stiff it almost hurt her face. “I’ll manage somehow. Thank you, Mr. Coulter. If you’ll reload Sunset, we’ll be on our way. You’ve been very kind, taking time out of your busy schedule without so much as a phone call in advance. It’s time I let you get back to your work.”

  He took her hand, his long, work-roughened fingers curling warmly over her wrist. He said nothing, just looked at her. Then he smiled slowly. “Can you cook and do housework?”

  That was the last thing she had expected him to say. “Can I what?”

  His smile deepened. “I’ve had an ad in the paper for over a month with little response. If you’re willing to work, maybe we can strike a bargain.”

  He still held tightly to her hand. His grip didn’t hurt, but she had a feeling it would be as impossible to escape as a manacle. The pain in her temples sharpened, the sun stabbing her eyes like a pick.

  “You want me to be a ranch cook and housekeeper?” She might have laughed, but she was afraid the top of her head might blow off.

  “It seems like a perfect solution to me. You’re down on your luck, your horse needs help, and I’m in sore need of a cook.”

  His perfect solution was her worst nightmare. She could cook well enough to suit herself, but she was easy to please. Few men were so accommodating. On top of that, it was a risky thing to do. This ranch was miles from town, and Jake Coulter was a total stranger.

  “Cooking really isn’t my forte. I can’t possibly do it for a wage.”

  “Sure you can.” He winked at her. “Any woman who pulled a horse trailer over the Cascades with that glorified roller skate can do damn near anything she sets her mind to.”

  He made the idea sound so reasonable. And, oh, how tempting it was. She might at least buy Sunset some time. If the horse responded quickly, as little as a few days might mean the difference between life and death for him. “It’s a very generous offer.”

  “Then say yes,” he urged. “What have you got to lose? Private quarters come with the job.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at a small log house farther down the creek. “It isn’t fancy, but the roof doesn’t leak and it’s halfway clean. Just a small two-bedroom. I pay four hundred a week, plus board. I usually offer a fairly decent benefit package, but if you’d rather be paid under the table, that’s doable as well.”

  Under the table? That meant she wouldn’t have to give him a social security number. It also meant more money because no taxes would be taken from her wages.

  “Come on,” he cajoled. “This is the only way I can off-set the costs to help you.”

  “Sixteen hundred a month doesn’t quite cover your training fees,” she pointed out.

  “If you’re an employee, I can give you a break on my rates. To make up the extra, you can do outside chores. I’m always shorthanded in the stable.”

  He expected her to work in the stable? Molly remembered telling him she’d been around farms and ranches all her life. He clearly believed she’d be far more useful than she actually would be.

  “I’m not very experienced at working in stables.”

  His eyes warmed on hers. “Somewhere between beginner and intermediate? Don’t worry. I’ll show you what needs to be done.”

  He had an answer for everything. She stared wistfully at the little log house. It looked so peaceful, a sanctuary along the stream with a forest at its back. This ranch was tucked away from the world. Even from out on the road, it was invisible. If the police were looking for her, what were the chances that they’d ever find her here?

  “We can do it on a thirty-day trial,” he offered. “If either of us is unhappy with the arrangement at the end of that time, we can back out, no questions asked. How does that sound?”

  It sounded marvelous, like the answer to a prayer. She turned a gaze toward Sunset, feeling numb all over and oddly disconnected from reality. When the going got rough, the new Molly Sterl
ing Wells got going. The stallion’s life was at stake. If she had cookbooks at her disposal, she might be able to get by for a while in the kitchen, and cleaning was a no-brainer. Didn’t a day that had begun so crazily beg for a crowning insanity as its finale?

  “Don’t think it to death,” he advised. “Some of life’s best decisions are made on the spur of the moment.”

  “Eventually, if I can work out some wrinkles, I’ll be returning to my job. I’m on a leave of absence of sorts.” Sunlight stabbed into her eyes again, blurring his face to little more than a dark silhouette with white spots dancing over his features. “Did I mention that?”

  “Not a problem. If you’ll agree to give me a month’s notice before you quit, I’ll have time to find a replacement.” He grimaced. “Hopefully I’ll have better luck with my ad next time around.”

  Molly felt as if she were about to take a flying leap off a cliff. Courage. Maybe he was right, and she was thinking it to death. Being too hesitant had always been one of her downfalls. “Life is what’s happening while you’re trying to decide what to do,” her father had laughingly told her more times than she could count. This man was offering her a way out, not only a job but a place to live, with lodging and feed for Sunset tossed into the bargain.

  “All right,” she said a little breathlessly. “I’ll give it a try. Why not?”

  A slow grin creased his dark face. “We have a deal then?”

  “Yes, we have a deal.”

  His smile broadened. “Welcome to the Lazy J, Molly Stir-Houston.”

  Stir-Houston? Molly’s stomach felt as if it had dropped to the region of her knees. She recalled how she’d nearly blurted out her real last name when she first got here. He had caught the slip, and now he was teasing her about it. That could mean only one thing. He knew she had given him a fake surname.

  If he had guessed that much, how much more did he suspect?

  Chapter Three

  Once Molly accepted Jake Coulter’s offer, she got no opportunity to change her mind. Though the man’s fastest speed seemed to be a saunter, he covered ground with amazing dispatch, forcing her to step fast to keep up with him. Before she knew quite how it happened, he’d parked her Toyota in front of the small log cabin along the creek and set himself to the task of unloading her belongings. As Molly scurried back and forth carrying bags, her earlier misgivings came back to haunt her, and one question circled endlessly in her thoughts. Have I lost my mind?