by Marin Thomas
She sipped her first cup standing at the kitchen sink, enjoying the view of her flower garden. The mass of bluebells had begun to fade and nearby pink tulip petals littered the ground. But her sprawling knapweed with their furry leaves and blue and purple flowers thrived among the white columbine. She’d wanted to expand the garden to include a walking path and a sitting area, but debt had put those plans on hold.
A swell of sadness brought tears to her eyes. Even though she and Ben had had their share of troubles, she’d never wished for his life to have ended in such a tragic way. Now she’d never know if Ben might have kicked his gambling habit—not that it would have changed their future. Amy had fallen out of love with Ben pretty darn quick after Rose had been born. After Lily’s birth, Amy had hoped Ben would change his ways. He hadn’t, so she’d contacted a lawyer to begin divorce proceedings. Ben had died before the lawyer had finished drawing up the paperwork.
What’s done is done.
After pouring a second cup of coffee, she headed for the porch, then stopped and reversed direction, walking through the house and out the front door. When they’d returned to the farm after haircuts and she spotted the orange safety fence strung around the yard, she hadn’t known what to think. Matt had stumbled through an explanation, aided by Rose: “It’s a fence so Lily and I won’t get in the way.” Amy failed to see the logic in Matt’s plan—if the girls wanted to escape all they had to do was walk out the front door.
Then Lily had pointed out the bell attached to the porch post and had clanged the thing until everyone’s ear drums begged for relief. Matt had insisted the bell was to be used for emergencies and it had taken everything inside Amy not to point out that there would be no emergencies if he stayed with the girls and made sure neither of them got hurt.
Later while Matt was in the barn and she and the girls sat on the swing, Rose had pulled out a walkie-talkie and said, “Horse Tamer, this is Wild Rose, over.”
Matt had responded with, “I hear you loud and clear, Wild Rose. You and Lily Pad okay? Over.”
Horse Tamer, Wild Rose and Lily Pad. Good grief. Amy had grabbed the walkie-talkie from her daughter and had chimed in with, “Horse Tamer this is Betty Crocker. Vittles’ll be ready soon. Over.”
For the next ten minutes they’d all goofed off with the walkie-talkies, Matt amazing her with his patience when they’d interrupted him in the middle of chores. Amy admired many things about Matt, but it was his gentle demeanor with Rose and Lily that elevated him to hero status in her eyes. And she feared in their eyes, too.
As soon as Amy rounded the side of the house, Matt spotted her and waved. She moseyed up to the corral and quietly observed cowboy and horse. The animal’s dark coat gleamed in the sun and his refined head, long neck and muscular hindquarters were evidence of his thoroughbred genes as was the rebellious streak he exhibited when he refused to dance sideways at Matt’s command.
Sitting loose in the saddle, Matt’s hips rocked with the stallion’s rhythmic gait. He put SOS through several stop-and-go maneuvers and the animal responded beautifully. Then rider and horse rode over to her and she held her breath, wondering…hoping…he’d kiss her. The air whooshed from her lungs when he leaned forward and…grabbed the coffee cup from her hand.
“Thanks,” he said. Then after a sip, he declared, “That hit the spot.”
Disappointed, she nodded at the horse. “I guess congratulations are in order.”
The grin he flashed rivaled the sunrise. “I never had a doubt that I’d be able to ride him.”
She offered her hand for a sniff and SOS nuzzled her fingers. “He hardly seems like the same stallion.”
“Cinnamon—” Matt pointed to the chestnut mare “—is coming into season. I’m going to release her into the pasture, then later this morning I’ll let SOS out and see what he does. If he behaves like a gentleman I’ll set him free and let the two get on with business. If he doesn’t, then I’ll bring him back to the corral.”
After a strained silence, he asked, “What are your plans today?”
“Housecleaning, laundry, homework.” And watching you.
“Exciting.”
“Story of my life.” She brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Since we’re sharing good news…I found a babysitter. Jake’s wife, Helen, phoned this past Thursday and said her neighbor’s granddaughter was visiting for the summer and hoping to earn a little spending money. Nicole’s a sophomore in college.”
“Have you met the girl?”
“I stopped by the Gundersons’ last night on the way home from class. Nicole should be able to handle the girls, but if you notice—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on the three of them.” He motioned to the gaudy orange safety fence. “Want me to get rid of that?”
“Let’s leave it up a day or two.” Not because it served any real purpose, but because it reminded Amy of Matt and his goofy babysitting tactics. Her eyes drifted to his mouth. “What are your plans after you work with SOS?”
“I don’t have any. Why?”
She scuffed the toe of her sandal in the dirt. “Thought I’d take the girls on a picnic. Care to join us?”
“Can’t think of a better way to spend my lunch hour than with three lovely ladies.”
Heat rushed into Amy’s face. “We’re leaving at eleven-thirty.”
“I’ll be ready.” As he rode off, Amy decided his backside was as impressive as the front side.
MATT RECLINED NEXT TO AMY on the blanket they’d spread beneath the scraggly arms of a sprawling kwanza cherry tree. Ten yards away the girls splashed in a trickling creek. “This is what Oklahoma is missing,” Matt said, staring at Amy’s profile.
“What’s that?”
You. “Green. Lots of rich, green vegetation.”
She rolled her head to the side and her lashes fluttered up. “I don’t think I’d like living in Oklahoma.”
“Ever been to the Sooner State?”
She shook her head. “The weather’s a little wild for my taste. I’ll take a raging blizzard over a tornado any day.”
Matt studied his surroundings—a verdant valley dotted with white pine, ponderosa and Douglas fir—and decided this wasn’t such a bad place to raise horses. He shifted his attention to Amy. She was as rich and curvy as the Idaho terrain. How had he ever believed this woman plain-looking?
“You should have let me pack a lunch instead of spending money on takeout from the café in town,” she murmured, staring at the canopy of branches overhead.
Matt didn’t dare confess he’d called Pearl each day this past week to place a take-out order for him and the girls. He’d even tipped Pearl handsomely to drop the food off at the bus stop near the end of Amy’s driveway. The girls hadn’t asked why he drove to the road each day after their mother had left for class—they’d been easily distracted with Silly Nillys.
He turned on his side, bumping Amy’s hip with his thigh, then he leaned over her and angled his head for a kiss.
“The girls.” Her words sighed across his lips.
A quick glance sideways confirmed that the little munchkins were busy picking dandelions. “They’re fine.” Amy’s eyes closed and Matt took that as a yes, pressing his mouth to hers. Nothing heavy. A brushing of lips—enough to warm his blood, raise his testosterone level and jump-start his pulse. When the cool, wet glide of Amy’s tongue slid across his lower lip, he moved his hand to the front of her blouse and thumbed her nipple.
Then Lily squealed and Amy jerked upright, almost knocking him in the mouth with the top of her head. “Sorry.” Her breathless apology did nothing to ease the ache in his groin. Eyes focused on the girls, she said, “Tell me about your family.”
The question about family dissolved the erogenous haze hanging over Matt as bad memories accompanied the sudden cooling of his body. Amy’s not Kayla. Deep inside Matt believed Amy wasn’t a user. Nor was she a liar. And she sure as heck wasn’t deceitful. Amy was as clear as the blue sky above their h
eads. Regardless…being burned tended to make a man cynical and wary.
From the get-go, Kayla had peppered Matt with questions about his father and siblings. He’d stupidly believed her curiosity with his family had been genuine because she’d been adopted—later, after he’d lost his heart to her, he discovered she’d lied about that and whole lot of other things.
“I have a sister—Samantha—she’s a couple years younger than me. She works in my father’s office, but I have a feeling it won’t be long before she quits.”
“Why’s that?”
“My father sticks his nose into our business way too often. Becomes annoying after a while.”
“Is that why you’re here?” She brushed a crumb off the blanket. “Because your father got on your nerves?”
The urge to confide in Amy got the best of him. “I want to retire from rodeo and raise cutting horses, but my father would rather I work in the oil business with him.” Amy remained silent, so he continued. “I’ve made a fair amount of money rodeoing over the years, but contrary to popular belief, I don’t receive an allowance from my father.”
“I get it. He’s rich—you’re not.”
“I have a trust fund, but my father refuses to release the money because he doesn’t approve of horses, cattle or much else aside from crude oil.” Matt hesitated before deciding to confess everything. “I used most of my savings to buy those mares. If they don’t become pregnant—”
“They will.” She squeezed his hand. He wished he felt as positive. “So it’s just you and your sister?” she asked.
“Nope. I have a stepbrother, Duke, who’s one year older. My mother took off when Sam and I were young, and I was already fifteen when Dad married Duke’s mom. Duke recently moved his IT company to Detroit, and this past February he married Renée, a social worker. They’re in the process of building a shelter for homeless kids that my father’s helping to fund.”
“Sounds as if your father is a generous man.”
The comment rang sincere, but Matt’s suspicion radar bleeped, warning him that Amy might be hinting at a Cartwright donation to help get her out of debt.
“If the mares don’t conceive, will you continue rodeoing?”
“Before I competed this past December at the NFR, I had serious reservations about continuing my career.”
“Why?”
“A combination of things.” He rubbed his shoulder—the one he’d landed on a few too many times over the years when he’d taken a fall from his horse. “Mostly I’m getting old. The bumps and bruises don’t heal as quickly.” And if he was honest with himself he’d admit that Kayla’s deception had sucked the joy out of the sport for Matt. Maybe with time, the memory of her lies would fade. “You ever long for a do-over in life?” he asked.
“If I hadn’t gone off with Ben to that hotel room all those years ago I wouldn’t have Rose or Lily.” She offered a soft smile. “Ben wasn’t such a bad guy. He was kind to the girls when he was around. And for a while he was succeeding in kicking his gambling habit. The Gamblers Anonymous meetings helped, but—” she sighed “—then he went to Pocatello and fell off the wagon.”
Like a blow to the head, the pain was swift and debilitating. Matt tore his gaze from Amy’s forlorn expression. He never wanted her to find out that he’d known about Ben’s gambling addiction and had suckered the cowboy into the card game. That he was responsible for Ben falling off the wagon.
Initially, Ben had declined to join the poker game—and now Matt knew why. What would Amy think of him if she learned her husband had tried to walk away, but Matt wouldn’t let him, cajoling and sweet-talking the man until he caved in and agreed to play? From that moment on, Matt’s objective had been to beat Ben so badly that the man would be forced to offer SOS’s stud service to clear his debt.
If he had known that Ben was already in debt up to his ears, Matt would have kicked the man out of the poker game—at least that’s what he told himself. But the truth was Matt had been so pissed at his father that he’d had one objective that night—his own.
“Mr. Matt, come quick!” Rose called. “I see a fish.”
Seizing an excuse to run from the guilty feelings putting a damper on the picnic, Matt sprang from the blanket and joined the girls.
NOW WHAT? AMY STOPPED scrubbing the barbecue grill when she spotted Payton Scott’s car barreling up the gravel road, creating a dust cloud that would take a half hour to dissipate. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with the egotistical banker.
Ever since she and the girls ended their picnic with Matt earlier in the day, she’d gone about household chores in a stupor, trying to figure out what she’d said or done that had pushed Matt away. They’d been sitting on the blanket talking about his rodeo career and all of a sudden, he’d bolted to the stream. If she didn’t know better, Amy would think Matt was hiding something from her.
Payton got out of his car and headed in her direction, his short, zigzagging strides reminding her of a chicken being chased by a dog. He didn’t bother to say hello to Rose or Lily, who were drawing with chalk on the stepping stones in her garden. “Amy, we have to talk,” he said.
She hid a smile when she noticed the new bump he sported in the middle of his nose and the purple bruises beneath both eyes. Matt sure had messed up the banker’s face. “Hello, Payton.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.” The smell of his heavy cologne nauseated her. She preferred Matt’s crisp, clean aftershave.
“I’ve been busy.” She scrubbed harder at the grime-encrusted grill and refused to feel bad that she hadn’t returned his phone calls.
“I may have found a buyer for your farm.”
The brush skidded to a stop. “As I said before, I’m not interested in selling.”
He flashed a smarmy grin. “You and I both know it’s a matter of time before your cowboy packs his saddlebags and moves on. Then who will you get to pay your mortgage?”
Amy didn’t want to contemplate the day when Matt’s mares turned up pregnant and he no longer had a reason to stay. “Who’s interested in my farm?”
Payton’s gaze slid sideways. “No one you know.”
Sounded like the banker was up to no good.
“Your father tried to talk your mother into getting rid of the place,” he said.
Amy wasn’t surprised. Selling the farm had probably been another one of her father’s million-dollar ideas. “Stop pestering me. As long as I make the mortgage payment, the bank can’t touch my farm.”
“And how long do you think you’ll be able to keep up the payments once Cartwright leaves?” He didn’t allow her a chance to argue before he asked, “Where’s the cowboy?”
“Matt’s in the barn grooming SOS.”
“You’ll never find a buyer for that horse. Word’s gotten around that he killed Ben.”
And she was certain Payton was responsible for spreading the rumors. “It was an accident.”
“Cartwright’s got a death wish is what I think.” Payton smirked. “When he rides off and leaves you in the dust, give me a call. Though I can’t guarantee you’ll get as good an offer on the property.”
Payton’s car hadn’t even vanished from sight, when a horse’s scream rent the air. “Stay put, girls!” She dropped the grill brush and sprinted toward the barn.
Please let Matt be okay. Please let him be okay.
The horse screams continued and the sound of hooves splintering wood greeted her ears when she entered the barn. Her eyes went straight to SOS’s stall. The stud had kicked the door off and was pawing the air. “Matt!” she called, afraid to move closer. Oh, God. Where was he? Her stomach churned with dread.
A second later the stallion’s hoof broke the latch on the door at the back of the stall and it swung open. SOS bolted into the corral. Heart racing, Amy rushed forward.
“Matt.” She found him slumped in the corner, clutching his thigh.
Eyes glazed with pain, he whispered, “I know what sets off SOS.”
“Wh
at?” She halfheartedly listened as she squatted by his side and ran her fingers through his hair, searching for bumps or lacerations. When she moved her hands to his leg, he swatted them away.
“Rats,” he grunted as Amy helped him to his feet. Winded and in obvious pain, he bent at the waist and gulped air. “The rat must have snuck into the stall when Ben was in with SOS.”
“What rat? I haven’t seen a barn rat around here in ages,” she argued.
“Rose’s pet rat.”
Assuming he’d whacked his head against the stall, Amy spoke slowly. “Rose doesn’t have a pet rat.”
Matt nodded toward the far corner of the stall and Amy’s breath froze in her lungs when she spotted the squashed remains of a large black rodent.
“She didn’t want to tell you, but she’s been feeding Sophia for a while.”
Sophia? Her daughter had named the varmint as if it were her…pet.
Dear God. Amy’s chest tightened with guilt. Her daughter had befriended a rat because Amy hadn’t allowed her to have a dog. If Rose ever found out Sophia had played a role in Ben’s death she’d be devastated.
Chapter Ten
Damn. Damn. Damn. Matt’s leg ached like a hell.
Using Amy as a walking stick, he limped out of the barn. The fact that he was able to put any weight on his leg reassured him the stallion hadn’t shattered the bone.
As he trudged along the gravel drive toward the house, his mind replayed the incident over and over. Matt had entered the stall and shut the door. SOS had stood calmly while Matt brushed his coat—a routine he’d begun a week ago and one that the horse enjoyed.
When Matt had moved to the horse’s rump, that’s when things had become dicey. SOS whinnied, then shifted restlessly. Matt guessed the horse had caught the rat’s scent before the rodent had slipped into the stall. In less than a few seconds, SOS had gone from nervous to crazed.
Thank God Matt had been standing to the horse’s side when the stud jumped and kicked out. The hoof had glanced off Matt’s thigh, but the force of the impact sent him crashing into the side of the pen, knocking the breath from him. He’d managed to roll out of the way and avoid a stomping until the stallion had kicked the lock off the stall door and broke free.
