Rescued by a Stranger

by Lizbeth Selvig

  He finally laughed, his deep, nasal chuckle filling her with relief. “All right,” he said. “I got it. No strings. No expectations. Friends with stolen-kisses benefits.”

  Jill’s heart, heavy over Gypsy and Robert, lightened with the briefest swell of joy. Chase’s acceptance of this simple relationship was the first time he’d let his guard down. The first time he’d trusted her with a part of his real self.

  “My fling with a bad-boy biker.”

  “I, uh … sure. Okay.” He shook his head. “Speaking of that, we found a coil. That’s really where I was, with Dewey making sure this one will fit. It will.”

  “That’s fantastic! How long until it’s fixed?”

  “A day or two. I’ll do the work. Dewey’s not really a motorcycle guy, but he agreed to let me work on it at his shop.”

  “I’m so relieved for you. You must feel great.”

  “I do. But most important right now is Robert.”

  With no more light conversation, Jill drove straight to the door of McCormick’s barn, and she and Chase were out of the truck almost as she threw it into park. They jogged in and found Robert leaning against the bars of Gypsy’s stall. He turned, peaked and unshaven, and put a finger to his lips.

  “Turns out I’m an old fool.” He pointed.

  With Chase pressed next to her, Jill looked into the stall and gasped.

  As babies went, the foal was enormous. As Clydesdales went, it was every bit the newborn—still wet and unable to stand, and only mildly interested in attempting the feat. Gypsy stood over her baby, her coat dulled with sweat and her hind legs stained from the delivery. With long, efficient strokes of her tongue she performed the instinctive act that would not only clean the foal but coax it into rising.

  “Never, ever been such a worried old cuss before,” Robert said. “I should have known she just wanted to be left alone. Soon as I returned from callin’ you, here he was. It’s a colt.”

  Relief, excitement, and awe bubbled in Jill’s stomach, which only moments before had churned with anxiety. Impulsively she wrapped Robert’s neck in a hug. Awkwardly he patted her back.

  “Sorry to make you come for nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Chase grasped the farmer’s hand. “This is a huge relief.”

  “I’m glad it was nothing. Oh, Chase, isn’t he beautiful?”

  She hugged him, too, and he dropped a kiss on her head. In his embrace, Jill marveled at the sudden sense that all was right with her world. An easy hour passed while they watched the colt struggle miraculously to his feet, nurse, and collapse back into the straw to sleep.

  Robert replaced the soiled bedding, and when mare and foal were settled, his tired face registered supreme contentment. Jill linked her arm through his as they left the barn.

  “They okay for the night now, you think?” she asked him. “I can call the vet and tell him not to come until tomorrow. He can check the colt then.”

  “That’ll be fine. I’ll be up a couple of times to check anyhow.”

  “You be sure you get enough rest, too,” Jill said.

  Jill waited for his normal acerbic retort. Instead he patted her hand. “I will.”

  Once at the house, Jill faced the farmer again. “Now that we’re not worried, can I ask a favor?”

  “Could I stop you if I wanted to?”

  She laughed. “May I see that old chicken yard you were telling us about last night?”

  He shrugged. “Go ahead. Ain’t nothing but a big weed patch.”

  The enclosure was as perfect as it had been in her dreams, not too big for a rider with imperfect control, but big enough so a horse could perform all three gaits. With its three-foot-high chicken-wire fencing it would be an unorthodox riding arena, but it was right.

  “Robert? I have a crazy proposition for you.”

  Chase, who’d wandered off to check out a mostly whole shed, reappeared. “Robert?” he echoed. “I have one, too.”

  FOUR DAYS LATER, Chase almost liked his life. He whistled as he wiped grease off his hands and surveyed the Triumph, with its new coil, standing whole on a drop cloth in Robert’s old granary shed.

  “You sound happy.” Robert appeared behind him, a bottle of beer in one hand, a lemonade in the other. He handed the lemonade to Chase. “You sure you aren’t far enough along to celebrate with a real man’s drink? You and your girlie lemonade.”

  Robert had taken wholeheartedly to both Chase’s request to use the farm as his fix-it shop and Jill’s to turn Olive’s chicken yard into a riding arena. The old man’s friendly camaraderie, completely contrary to what everyone thought of him, kept surprising them.

  “Alcohol makes me work slower,” Chase said. “Besides, I’m about to fire her up and take a test run.”

  His heart pounded in anticipation.

  “Well, hell, boy, let’s hear it.”

  Chase tossed his rag to the ground and nodded. “Wanna ride?”

  “I ain’t crazy. You get the bugs outta her first.”

  A buzz from his pocket cut off Chase’s reply. His mood soared highter. It had to be Jill.

  “Hi there,” he answered, grinning at Robert, who was convinced he saw more between them than there was.

  “Call the paramedics and restart my heart. You answered the phone. Hello, grandson.”

  In the moment it took for his smile to disintegrate, Chase’s mouth went as dry as if someone had stuffed the work rags down his throat. “Poppa?” he rasped, as warm joy collided with deep dismay.

  “Yes. It’s me. Am I getting you in the middle of something?”

  “I, ah, I had to make some repairs to the Triumph. She blew the coil. I just finished replacing it.”

  “Really? I’m sorry, son. And you found a part? That’s not easy.” His grandfather’s deep drawl rolled smooth and easy, and did not sound like it came from a man nearing eighty.

  “It did take some doing. What about you? Everything’s okay there?”

  “Fine, fine, except we’re all concerned about you.”

  He hung his head. He’d continued ignoring calls for the two weeks he’d been in Minnesota. He’d likely have ignored this one had he been paying attention.

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t had a thing to say. I sent Mama an e-mail that I was fine.”

  “You can’t hide from us forever. I’m livin’ proof we’ll stalk you.” The humor in his voice was reassuring. Poppa had always been more easy-going than Chase’s father. “I was spurred this time by a talk with Duncan. He called to tell me he’s pleased with your work.”

  “He called for his scheduled checkin, you mean.”

  “Somebody has to let me know you’re still breathing.”

  “Poppa.” His admonishment held only half strength. “I’m a big boy. Grown up a long time ago. If I was in trouble I’d let you know.”

  “And you’re not in trouble? Duncan says you’re in a feud with Jim Krieger. Something about throwing rocks? Now, it sounds like Jim has been looking into you.”

  “What the hell?” Chase cursed. His grandfather had built a reputation on commanding respect without ever raising his voice, much less uttering a hell or a damn or a vulgarity, but frustration had always brought out, in Chase and his brothers, the pointless game of trying to rile him. It never worked. “What kind of bullshit is that?”

  “I had to drag every word out of Duncan by claiming inconsolable parental worry. All he said is Jim doesn’t trust you. But Duncan does. I’m simply making sure you’re all right.”

  “What happened to letting the good Lord and His angels worry about me?”

  “I’ll turn it back over to Him now that I’ve heard your voice.”

  “You do that. I’m perfectly fine. And forget about my feud with Krieger. Part of the deal I made for not walking out on this job was that I wouldn’t have to work with a first-class jerk.”

  “Jim Krieger might be a jerk, Chase, but you are not.”

  “For God’s sake, I’m not a child either.”

&nbs
p; “Nor are you yourself. Don’t burn bridges until you know you’ll never have to cross them again. And preferably not then. Never know who’ll need to cross them looking for you.”

  “Stop it,” Chase said, with irritation but not conviction.

  Poppa laughed. “We all have our crosses to bear, Chase-boy. I’m yours. Don’t forget you’re up there to figure out what you want.”

  “You think I can forget why I’m here?” Chase lowered his voice, pain slicing through him. “Believe me, I wish I could.”

  “You mustn’t forget, son, that Brody, Julia, and everyone at the clinic might be worried, we here might be worried, but you need to solve this for yourself. This isn’t about dealing with guilt. You have nothing to feel guilt over. This is about physician heal thyself.”

  Chase had nothing to say. His grandfather rarely resorted to being pedantic, but when he did get full of himself, there wasn’t much arguing with him. He was wise to an annoying fault.

  “I am working on it, Poppa. Not much more I can say.”

  “Then I have only one more request. Please call your daddy.”

  “He’ll only say I told you so.” His father had been the original naysayer when Chase had left for Johns Hopkins—a place Chaz considered worldly and highbrow that would only lead Chase to heartache.

  “Your papa doesn’t call a swan a biddy hen anymore, you know that. Tell him in your own voice you’re fine.”

  “You’re right. I will. I promise.”

  “You know I love you, son. We all do. You’re a good man, a gifted man. What happened to that child wasn’t your fault. What the clinic has become isn’t your doing. And the roadmap you have to follow wasn’t drawn by Rand-McNally.”

  “No more angels, old man.” He wanted to hang up. But he also wanted his grandfather’s voice in his ear until all the pain disappeared.

  “Fair enough. You know if you need a thing in the world, I’m here.”

  “I do, Poppa. I do.”

  He ended the call and stood still, feeling as bruised as if he’d gone fifteen rounds and lost on points. He’d completely forgotten Robert waiting behind him.

  “Someone checking up on you, I take it?”

  Chase wiped his face as if replacing a mask. Angel wandered in from wherever she’d been exploring and rooted against his hand, giving one little lick. How the dog knew exactly when she was needed, Chase could not figure out.

  “Home,” he said. “You’re never grown up as far as they’re concerned.”

  “You ain’t running from the law, are you?”

  “No.” Chase shook his head. “I swear. Nothing like that.”

  Robert bent slightly and wriggled his fingers between Angel’s ears. “Didn’t you say the place you’re staying now has problems with dogs?” The question seemed out of the blue.

  “Jill’s mother doesn’t like dogs in the house.”

  “If you needed a place you could both stay, I got me a spare bedroom. Only a thought. Wouldn’t cost anything if you helped me fix my porch.”

  Chase stared, nearly dumbstruck. The number of problems that would solve, now that he had his own transportation, was huge. The temptation made him giddy. Only one thing niggled his conscience.

  “Robert, you have no idea how enticing that is. But there is something you don’t know.”

  “That right?”

  “I’ve never told you that I work for Connery Construction.”

  The information stopped Robert for a long moment. He pulled off his cap with one hand and scratched through his thick, white hair. “How well you know Krieger?”

  “I don’t know him at all. I just have my opinions.”

  “Are they the same as mine?”

  Chase almost chuckled. “I believe they are. I don’t think he likes me either. That was my grandfather on the phone. He’s knows Duncan Connery, and I guess Krieger has not taken kindly to my … insubordination.”

  “Anyone insubordinate to Jim Krieger is welcome here.” Robert replaced his cap. “You in any kind of position to spy?” He gave a faintly naughty smile.

  Chase answered with a puzzled frown at the third time spying had been suggested. “I don’t think so.”

  “I believe the man is up to no good,” Robert said. “There were other plans for different projects, and Krieger steamrollered ’em. I think he’s got a personal stake in this gravel thing. I don’t know enough about how it all works. I just know I’m not sellin’—not to him.”

  “You’re a strong man, Robert. My newest hero. I’d be more than happy to help fix that porch. Let me ask Jill if she minds moving the dog here. It’s really hers.”

  “I’m not sure, but I think that dog has some sort of plan for you two.”

  “That makes no sense at all.”

  “Most things in life don’t.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “NOW THAT’S EXACTLY what I wanted. Excellent!” Colin’s voice rang across the arena.

  Jill leaned forward in her saddle and slapped Dragon’s neck as he cantered away from their last combination of fences. “Excellent” was ultimate praise from the Englishman, whose acknowledgment of a job well done was usually a more-or-less satisfied grunt. Jill slowed her horse, her heart still flying. The exhilaration of jumping well gave her a high that had to be better than anything a junkie could get from crack.

  Not until she halted beside Colin in the center of the arena did she notice her audience by the doorway. Several of her students gave her a thumbs-up, and the Barnes family stood in a tight little knot. Since Becky’s lesson wasn’t for an hour, their presence was a surprise. A bigger one yet was the sight of Chase’s muscular frame, slouched comfortably several feet from the girls. Jill’s pulse skipped happily.

  In the two weeks since Chase had moved to Robert’s, life had settled into a routine built around him. She practically lived at Robert’s, too—feeling guilty the man had taken on two boarders instead of one. But Chase seemed … happy. He courted her like an old-fashioned lover, surprising her with flowers, holding hands while they talked, stealing sizzling kisses when Robert wasn’t looking.

  And the heat in her body intensified every time she saw him. Standing at the arena door now, in his faded jeans and a crazy cowboy hat Robert had dug up from somewhere, Chase made such a contrast to the proper breeches and riding helmets everywhere around him that he stood out like a mustang in a herd of Lipizzaners.

  “I’ve got a few things I’d like you to consider.” Colin pulled her attention back to him.

  “Sure.”

  “You’ve done two advanced shows, you said?”

  “We finished in the top half both times. It wasn’t perfect, but not abysmal either.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll get him there. I’d like you to think about doing two more shows this year. I have one in mind for September in North Carolina. You could do it on the way to Florida, where I’d really like to have you join me at the new barn for the winter. I need a working student, and I think we could get you and this young man”—he patted Dragon’s neck—“ready for Rolex.”

  Jill swallowed her shock. The Rolex Three-Day was the United States’ most prestigious eventing competition. The best of the best made it to its four-star course in Kentucky.

  “I’m thrilled you think we’re ready.”

  “You are. You’ve maxed out the training facilities in this part of the country. I keep trying to persuade David to move his operation, but he has fallen for this area, I’m afraid. It’s very nice, but no more conducive to year-round training than is most of England.”

  With that, his request sank in. Colin Pitts-Matherson wanted her to move to Florida. It was the request she’d wanted from the start. A million thoughts raced through her head. She really would have to leave school. She’d get to leave Dee. Have to leave her mother and Ben. Robert. Have to leave Chase.

  A lump like swallowing a giant ice cube slid painfully down her throat.

  But Rolex. And, maybe, the Olympic Games. But it would s
till take an incredible amount of work. And so much luck.

  “I’m honored, Colin. I hope you know I’d love to work with you. Please, may I think about your offer? I would need to make quite a few changes here.”

  “Of course. Of course. You’re in vet school, are you not?”

  “I am.”

  “You are a talented young woman,” Colin said. “There are difficult sacrifices required for any career. But trust me, you can have one as a rider and trainer.”

  Not be a vet? How did she really feel about such a prospect? Over the years she’d downplayed her acceptance into vet school—told everyone it had been Ben’s dream, not hers. But now she was invested in school—in the process. She enjoyed forgetting about classes in the summer—but to not go back?

  And yet, she was being offered a chance to reach a goal shared by every girl who’d ever dragged on a pair of breeches and sailed over a cross-country jump with her horse. She’d been dreaming about the Olympics since the age of eight. And here it was, the pot of gold in sight.

  Her audience became a small entourage when she led Dragon into the barn. Well dones flew at her, and Jamie Barnes stared moony-eyed from a distance, as if Jill had grown a halo.

  “He’s pretty.”

  The voice behind the compliment nearly bowled Jill over. Becky, her hair glowing green today and her T-shirt still too tight, stepped to the horse with her normal hostility missing.

  “Thanks, Becky.”

  “Why do you call him Dragon? He doesn’t look that tough.”

  Jill laughed and stroked her fingers over the lightning-shaped slice of white between her horse’s eyes. “He’s tough out on the cross-country course. He snorts and attacks the jumps like they’re big castles. His show name is Flash Dragon.”

  Becky didn’t reply. She studied him as if for the first time. “Is he the best jumper in the barn?”

  The hint of awe was so infinitesimal it was like a high-frequency whistle, nearly inaudible, but Jill heard it.

  “It’s kind of vain to say, but he’s one of them,” she confided. “Would you like to get to know him a little better? You could walk him out for me.”