by Brenda Mott
“I didn’t think you did,” Trent emphasized. “I just wanted to clear things up, that’s all.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I was worried I’d offended you.”
“Well, worry no more,” Bailey said. “You didn’t. So let’s forget about it.” With relief, she noticed what must be Doc Baker’s mobile veterinary truck pulling into the driveway beyond the barn. “Looks like your vet is here.”
“Yeah.” Trent took the lead rope from her hand. Then his mouth curved in a slight smile. “You wanna come up to the barn and get a firsthand lesson on treating colic?”
“Why not.” Bailey brushed her deepest feelings aside. After all, Trent wasn’t saying he never wanted to see her again. He’d only let her know what she was already fully aware of. He had no interest in falling in love again.
She was glad for his honesty.
Glad for knowing that her initial reaction to him was right on target.
But sorrier than she could say that things had to be this way between them.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TRENT FOLLOWED the path now clearly visible in the grass of his lower pasture and climbed through Bailey’s fence. Though he had to admit this route was handier than taking the road, he ought to stop using it. Every time he noticed the worn path, it reminded him that he and Bailey had a connection. He was having a hard enough time trying to work her out of his system. He didn’t need a constant reminder that the two of them had grown closer than he’d planned.
He probably shouldn’t even go over to her place right now, but he’d told himself that helping Bailey finish the extension on her fence, as he’d said he would, was the right thing to do. After all, she’d stayed with him for hours last night after Doc Baker left, walking Bronnz, making sure the mare didn’t roll.
The night had been exhausting, but the colic had abated, then disappeared altogether, and this morning when he’d checked on Bronnz, she’d been quietly munching grass hay in her stall. Relief and happiness had flooded him. He hadn’t wanted to lose her, too.
Bailey’s genuine concern for the horse’s well-being had touched him more than he cared to admit. He liked the woman, and the more he saw of her, the more he wanted to see. A part of him wondered if maybe his father was right and he should give her a chance, yet another part of him warned it would be foolish to do so.
If he started dating Bailey, what might come of it? While he didn’t want to ever get seriously involved with anyone again, neither did he want to have a fling. It just wasn’t his style. Being alone might seem a harsh alternative, but that was the way things had to be.
Besides, there were too many uncertainties in becoming attached to Bailey. Putting aside the fact that she wanted a family, would she even stay here as planned? Ferguson was a nice little town, if small towns were your thing. But who was to say Bailey wouldn’t become bored once the novelty of small-town life wore off, and decide to return to the city? Trent had lived in a big city once. He didn’t plan to do so again.
Like his father, he wanted to be the best Arabian-horse breeder he could be. He loved his horses, his ranch and his way of life. No one was going to take that from him. No one was going to take anything from him again, which was why he had to get a handle on his feelings for Bailey.
Last night she’d accepted his offer to help her finish the fence, since he’d told her it was a way to return the favor of walking Bronnz. They’d been doing a lot of that lately—one good turn for another—and he knew that once the fence was up, he’d have to make a greater effort to distance himself from her.
He crossed the pasture, pausing to give Star a pat, then walked toward the gate that led into the driveway by the yard. As he swung the gate open, he halted, squinting against the late-afternoon sun.
Belatedly, he noticed the palomino horse penned near the barn. Macy was there with Bailey, tagging along as Bailey carted a roll of wire across the yard in a wheelbarrow.
Macy, with her cowboy boots and blond pigtails…so much like Sarah.
Trent took a deep breath and headed for the yard.
Bailey glanced up and smiled. “Hi there.”
“Hi.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded gruff. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Looks like you’re all set to string some wire.”
She nodded toward the roll of V-mesh and let the wheelbarrow come to rest on the ground. “Buddy’s roaming days will soon be over.”
“Hi, Trent,” Macy said, walking over to stand in front of him. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Trent forced himself to smile at her. “I’m okay. How’s your dad and Jason?”
“They’re fine. Are you going to help us put up the fence?”
He sighed inwardly, ignoring the tight knot in his stomach because of Macy’s presence. She’d grown since he’d last seen her. Sarah would’ve grown, too.
He picked up the roll of wire. “Looks like it. Guess we’d best get started.”
They worked side by side, the three of them, for the rest of the evening. When they were done, the fence was two feet taller, and Trent had managed to work most of his anxiety out of his muscles. But his head ached from the emotional Ping-Pong he’d played with himself as he’d bounced back and forth between keeping silent, walling his thoughts and emotions, and unconsciously becoming caught up in trivial chitchat with Bailey and Macy. He tried not to focus on the feelings that welled up inside him. Tried to pretend that every time Macy said something to him, he did not recall Sarah’s sweet little voice, in his mind, in his heart.
Let me swing the hammer, Daddy. I can pound fence staples.
I’m your best helper, huh—
“Not bad.” Bailey’s voice broke through his reverie. He brought his mind back to the present, looking first at the fence, then at her. She stood with one hand on her hip as she scanned the length of the fence. He thought she’d never looked better, the setting sun playing through the gold streaks in her hair, her skin damp from her hard work.
He wanted to pull her close and use what he felt for her to block out all other thoughts, all other emotions, all the memories of what he’d lost.
Instead, he laid down the hammer and looked at the fence again. “I’d say we did a passable job, though I’m not sure if Buddy’s all that happy with it.” Trent glanced at the dog, who lay resignedly on the porch with his head resting on his speckle-tipped paws. Soulful brown eyes gazed back at him as Buddy gave a long, humanlike sigh.
“What’s wrong, boy?” Macy asked.
The heeler perked his ears, his eyes following Macy as she moved across the yard. Oddly enough, the dog had taken an instant liking to her, and had spent a great deal of the evening tagging along at her heels as she helped with the fence.
“Look here, Buddy,” Macy went on, bending to retrieve something from the grass.
Buddy raised his head from his paws and cocked it sideways, following her every move. His eyes came to rest on the red rubber ball she gripped in her small fist.
Bailey smiled and shook her head. “He won’t play with it. I’ve already tried.”
“He might,” Macy said. “Some dogs just don’t know what to do with a ball at first.” She crouched down and tapped the toy on the ground. “Come on, Buddy! Come on, boy.” She dragged the ball across the grass as the heeler watched. Every muscle on the alert, he rose to a sitting position, and his tail began to wag.
“You want it?” Macy asked. “Huh, you want it?” With a flick of her wrist, she pitched the rubber ball across the yard. “Then go get it!”
Buddy sprinted after it, and as the ball arced across the sky, the sun behind it seemed to burn a hole in Trent’s vision.
Pain flashed in his head as a memory pushed through to consciousness.
Sarah’s voice.
Get the ball, Jax! Get it, boy! That’s it.
And Macy’s— “Good dog. Good boy.”
Their voices blended, here and now, then and there…
Bring it to me.
“Good dog
.”
Come on.
“Trent, are you all right?” Bailey’s words cut through his mental fog. She edged toward him. “Did you get a little too much sun?”
But he barely heard her. An odd feeling roiled through his stomach as he watched Buddy grip the ball in his teeth and race back toward Macy.
The image of Jax and Sarah grew in his memory, churning, fading, blending anew as Macy stooped to ruffle Buddy’s fur.
And the awful, sinking blackness that had plagued him for the past year, the sorrow that had gripped him, seemed to shift—just an inch. Making way for something so unfamiliar that for a moment he almost didn’t recognize it for what it was.
Warmth.
Pleasure.
The kind that came when a father witnessed his daughter at play. The deep-down, good feeling of savoring a simple moment in time.
But this wasn’t his little girl; it wasn’t her dog.
It was Buddy and Macy, and he felt like a traitor for enjoying their company.
“Damned if you don’t look like him,” he muttered.
The smile that had begun to tug at his mouth gave way to a scowl, and he tucked the warm, pleasant sensation deep down inside where it belonged, along with the grief he’d nurtured and fed for so long now. So long that he didn’t know how to do anything else.
“Look like who?” Bailey’s question pulled him into the present.
He’d hardly been aware he’d spoken out loud.
“Nothing. Nobody.” Trent began to gather scraps of wire from the ground, ignoring Bailey’s puzzled frown. He tossed the scraps into the wheelbarrow.
“Trent, what’s wrong?” Exasperation laced her words.
“Nothing,” he replied gruffly. “I need to clean up this mess and get back to Windsong. I have chores of my own to finish before dark.”
“Do you want some help with them?”
“No. Thanks.” He pushed the wheelbarrow around behind the barn and disposed of the wire pieces in the trash barrel, trying to ignore Bailey’s presence. Trying to fight the urge to stay and talk to her, to Macy, just a little while longer. It was time to go.
“Thanks for your help,” Bailey said.
Her tone had turned from exasperated to chilly. He could hardly blame her. He knew he was being abrupt, but it was necessary. If he was to keep his distance from her emotionally, then he had to focus on doing just that. He couldn’t have fun with her or with Macy. It just wasn’t right.
Facing her, he found that the look in her eyes nearly undid his every resolve. He wanted to reach out to her just once more, and simply brush his hand across her cheek. He remembered how silky her skin had felt beneath his touch when he’d kissed her on the porch.
Instead, he shoved his hands into his back pockets. “No problem. Hopefully the fence will hold Buddy now.”
They stood, silent, for the span of a heartbeat. Macy’s laughter carried through the air as she continued to play with the dog.
“So, I’ll see you later,” Trent said.
Bailey gazed solemnly at him. “Yeah, okay.”
BAILEY HAD NO IDEA what had caused Trent’s abrupt mood swing. One minute he’d been fine and the next he’d pulled back inside his shell like some damn turtle, cranky and unwilling to poke its head out. What was wrong with him? She replayed everything that had happened.
She’d been having a good time, working with him and Macy, enjoying the way Macy coaxed Buddy into a game of fetch with the red rubber ball. She couldn’t believe Macy had actually gotten the dog to do it. Bailey had tried and tried to get him to play fetch, to no avail. Maybe he’d just been waiting for the right person to come along. Maybe he had a little girl in his past who’d played with him.
Again, realization dawned with the sudden impact of a ball cracking against a bat.
A little girl in Buddy’s past.
A little girl in Trent’s.
Had Macy triggered some specific memory of Sarah? Damn. She should’ve thought of the possibility. If she’d been a little more careful, she might have avoided putting him in a situation that made him uncomfortable. But darn it, tiptoeing around Trent’s feelings all the time was hard, and frankly, she was getting tired of it.
Feeling guilty for thinking that way, Bailey caught Star and saddled him, half listening to Macy’s chatter while Macy saddled her horse, Amber, the little palomino she’d ridden over earlier in the day. With evening settling into dusk, Bailey wasn’t about to let Macy go home unsupervised, and besides, a ride sounded pretty good right now. Maybe it would help clear her head.
She understood Trent’s grief and felt the depth of his loss, so why should she feel guilty for trying to make him smile? She wondered what he’d meant when he mumbled something about “looking like him.” The only “him” present besides Trent was the dog. He had to have been referring to Buddy.
“Macy,” Bailey said as they swung onto their horses and headed down the driveway. “Did Sarah have a dog?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Macy’s little face grew serious as she glanced over at Bailey. “She had a Border collie mix—I think he was part blue heeler—named Jax. Why?”
“I just wondered,” Bailey said. She had to know. “What did he look like?”
Macy shrugged. “He was black and white with some speckles on his nose and paws. He looked a little bit like Buddy. Except his ears sort of flopped over on the tips.”
Bingo. “Ah.” Bailey rode along, her thoughts on the child Trent had lost, and suddenly it dawned on her that she had no idea what Trent’s little girl had looked like, either. “And Sarah?”
Macy grinned. “Like me. People thought we were sisters.” Her smile faded and sadness filled her blue eyes. “We used to ride together. I sure miss her.”
“I’ll bet you do,” Bailey said softly.
Minutes later, they halted at the bottom of the Darlands’ driveway. Waving, Bailey watched Macy trot Amber toward the barn. Then she turned Star and headed down the road. She’d already decided exactly where she was going. Over to Windsong.
She’d obviously upset Trent, albeit unintentionally, by having a little girl around who reminded him of his daughter, and a dog who looked like Sarah’s Jax. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Could be it was time Trent started to face what had happened and begin to work his way through it.
And maybe it’s none of your business, her inner voice reprimanded.
Perhaps not, but she did care about Trent—more than she liked to admit—and it was possible he simply needed to find a way to deal with his grief. Some way other than crawling inside himself. It was also possible he needed a little help to do so.
He’d said his parents lived in California, and Jenny had told her Trent had locked himself away from everyone, both emotionally and physically, since Sarah’s death. Could it be he really had no one to turn to, or at least, no one he wanted to turn to? Apparently, his wife had pushed him away, or turned away from him. Something had to have happened to make them go their separate ways. Bailey had often heard that the death of a child could break a marriage.
Sympathy and sadness warred with determination as Bailey headed for Windsong. Reminding herself that Trent required not sympathy but support, she took a deep breath and urged Star into a lope.
Trent was feeding the broodmares and foals. He looked up, and his eyes held hers for a moment before he resumed his task. Bailey steeled herself for what she could already see was going to be a chilly reception. If nothing else, she’d learned that Trent was stubborn.
Well, she could be stubborn, too.
“Hi,” she said, pulling Star to a halt as the gelding whinnied a greeting to his former stablemates.
“Didn’t we just say goodbye?” Trent looked at her but kept right on tossing hay.
Bailey gritted her teeth. Caring about someone so hardheaded damn sure wasn’t easy. “We did, but I rode home with Macy to make certain she got there safe. And since there’s a full moon out, I thought it might be fun to take a moonlight ride. I
’ve never done that before.”
He merely grunted, and Bailey held her patience by a thread.
“Would you like to go with me?”
“No, thanks.”
The thread snapped. “Why not? Are you scared?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, it doesn’t mean I’m asking if you’re scared to ride in the dark.” Bailey glared at him. “You’re afraid you might enjoy it, aren’t you?”
He scowled darkly at her. “Don’t be ridiculous.” And he went back to tossing hay.
“I’m not. It’s true. You’re afraid you might have fun. That’s why you came home a little while ago. It frightened you that you were having fun with me and Macy.” Her heart pounded. She knew she’d crossed the line, but it was too late to back down now. Maybe it wasn’t her place to say to him what she was saying. But she didn’t see anyone else around to do it.
Trent froze, his hands on a flake of hay, his back to her. His shoulder muscles tensed beneath his shirt, and when at last he moved, he threw the hay to one of his mares just a little too hard.
“Is that so?” He faced her again.
Bailey leveled her chin at him. “Yes, it is.”
“Humph. Shows how much you know.” But the flicker of pain in his eyes told her she’d hit home.
She bit back an apology. She didn’t want to be mean, yet maybe he’d been coddled too long. From what Jenny had said, the entire town had given him a wide berth since Sarah’s death. Could be it was time someone intruded on his space, if only a little.
“So, are we going riding?” Bailey asked again.
Trent heaved another flake of hay over the fence. For a moment, she didn’ty think he was going to answer. But then he faced her. His cool gray eyes hid whatever emotion stirred within. “Yeah, I’ll go riding with you, Bailey. Somebody ought to, or you’ll probably get lost in the dark.” He reached for the last of the hay bale, but Bailey could’ve sworn the tension melted from his posture a little.
