Rescued by a Stranger

by Lizbeth Selvig

  Becky’s mouth opened and closed guppy-like—as if Jill had willingly handed her the keys to a sports car she wasn’t quite old enough to handle. Jamie’s eyes, from across the aisle, turned to saucers of disbelief—tinged with more than a little envy.

  “Okay,” Becky said.

  Jill snapped a lead rope onto Dragon’s halter and handed it to the girl, who moved off past her mother, Jamie, and Chase.

  “You’re letting her go alone?” Anita started to follow. She was a quiet woman but always a bit jittery in her watchfulness.

  “I trust her to be safe,” Jill promised. “Colin’s there, and if there’s one thing Becky knows how to do it’s walk out a horse.”

  “Can I go watch?” The wistfulness wasn’t hard to identify in Jamie’s small voice.

  “Of course,” Jill said.

  “I’ll take you,” her mother added.

  “Mrs. Barnes, could I talk to you first?”

  Anita swiveled her head, her frown tremulous, but at last she let her second daughter go.

  “She’s quite a horse lover, too, isn’t she?” Jill nodded toward Jamie.

  Anita adjusted her owlish glasses. “Yes. I’ve tried to keep her from coming and getting envious and depressed, but she insists. At least she has a lot of other interests.”

  “She’s always welcome here.”

  “I know, I appreciate that. But the question is whether it’s in Jamie’s best interest. The most important thing is for her to accept her limitations.”

  “I know a physical therapist,” Jill said, carefully omitting that she and the therapist were barely on speaking terms. “And I have an idea. I’m sure you’ve heard about equine therapy for kids with special needs. Riding holds a lot of benefits for someone like Jamie. If you were interested, I think we could get her up on a horse.”

  Anita’s brow furrowed, and her eyes darted to the arena door where Jamie had rolled out of sight. “I don’t know. Jamie’s a child who gets her hopes up so high that she’s hurt when things don’t turn out as she imagines. She wants to gallop away across fields, not do pony rides around a ring with other handicapped children.”

  “It might not hurt to ask her.”

  “Let me speak to her father, and I’ll get back to you if we’re interested.”

  Jill forced a patient tone she didn’t feel into her voice. “That would be great, Mrs. Barnes. I’d really love to help her ride.”

  Anita smiled tightly and broke away to take up watch over her girls.

  “That went over like a lead balloon.” Jill whispered to Chase, who leaned unobtrusively against a stall. “Why wouldn’t she jump at giving her child the desire of her heart?”

  “That child’s in a wheelchair and she’s just nervous.” Chase pulled her close, resting his cheek on the top of her head. She melted into his hold. “It’s out of your hands for now, give her time.”

  Jill shivered from the thrills he sent twirling down her spine like little sparks on a fire pole. “I won’t give up.”

  “If you did I’d be worried.”

  He kissed the top of her head. Warmth flowed from that simple touch and heated up her desire so quickly that she looked longingly down the aisle to the stalls. They’d never repeated that night—not here in the barn. Kisses, yes. Stolen and exciting, but still almost chaste, as if Chase was protecting her from something.

  She ran her hands down his long, strong back, and the sparks inside her gathered into a mini conflagration in her belly. When he squeezed back and held her tightly to him, her knees nearly lost their strength. Tilting her head up, she waited for him to smile, to wrinkle his nose, to do any of the adorable things he could do with his beautiful features to make her drizzle inside even without a public display of affection. Instead, he shocked her by slipping a short, hot kiss onto her lips.

  “It stinks, but I have to get to work,” he whispered, his breath feathering her nose.

  “Yeah.”

  Vet school, teaching, and the Olympics be hanged. She wanted Chase Preston. She didn’t want to miss him if she left. She wanted to strip away his reserve—not to mention his jeans—and learn what it would be like to fully have his trust, to love him, to make love to him.

  He released her.

  “The arena’s coming along,” she said, flustered by the fantasies and searching for a way to hide it. “You guys do nice work.”

  “It’s fun work, now that I’m in shape.”

  “Oh yeah, you’re in shape all right. Roaring up on that motorcycle every day lookin’ tough.”

  Which was pure understatement. She was starting to like that stupid machine. Chase made James Dean on his bike look like a dud.

  “Tough as Silly Putty around you.” He took a few steps, then hesitated. “What was Colin jawing about at the end of your ride?”

  The conversation returned to her with a jolt. “About going with him to Florida in the fall.”

  “Hey, that’s exactly what you want.” His gorgeous eyes and mouth, his whole expression, remained unnervingly neutral.

  “I always thought so.” She bit her lip. “Now that he’s asked, it’s a little scary.”

  “It’s a huge opportunity, honey, but a big decision, I know. Okay, see you tonight.”

  She stared, confused by the abruptness of his departure after the slow heat of his kiss. She couldn’t read the reaction any better than she could read her own feelings at the moment. It was far too early in their fledgling relationship to be worried about what Chase thought of her career plans, but his switch to cool offhandedness stung anyway. She’d wanted him to grab her into a bear hug with the excitement he usually showed over her accomplishments. Or she’d wanted him to beg her not to go.

  How stupid.

  It was too soon for such expectations. Too soon to be imagining such things as stripping off his jeans. And way too soon to think Chase felt more like home than anyone or anyplace had in a long time.

  AS THE FOURTH of July approached, any decision about whether to leave with Colin remained unmade. Nobody mentioned it; nobody pressured her. For the first time in her life she wanted someone to tell her what to think or do, and everyone who normally had opinions on top of opinions had come down with a severe case of opinion laryngitis.

  On Sunday evening two days before the Fourth, Jill squatted in the pasture behind Robert’s barn running her hands up and down the legs of Gypsy’s month-old colt. He’d been unofficially christened T.N. Tatters after the old clown because Chase said he was so floppy and comical nothing else would do. Since Jill unequivocally refused to name him Bozo—or Ronald McDonald McCormick—Tatters it was.

  The foal was still disproportionately leggy but he was no longer uncoordinated. And he was as friendly as a curious puppy. While Jill lifted his feet and fondled his hooves, Tatters lipped at her hair and ears, making her laugh.

  “You’re horrible,” she said, pushing his baby muzzle aside, only to have him poke it into the back of her neck. “Stop it!”

  “You’re pretty handy with the little fellow.”

  She set Tatters’ hoof down and looked up to Robert leaning casually against the pasture fence.

  “I’m just spoiling him,” she replied, and headed toward the old farmer. “Developing all sorts of bad habits.”

  Tatters trotted after her, butting her gently in the rear. Robert chuckled.

  “He thinks you’re his pasture mate, that’s all. And don’t think I can’t see gold when it’s in front of me. I got me a real horse trainer gentling this colt. He’ll fetch all the more money when he goes to a new place because he’s well started.”

  “Don’t say that.” Jill pouted when she reached the fence. “I know he’ll be sold but I can’t bear to think about it.”

  “You wouldn’t make much of a farmer, girlie.”

  “Guilty as charged. My farm would be filled with five hundred unsold animals, and I’d be poorer than I am now.”

  “Don’t fret about it. By the time this little boy has to go we’l
l breed Belle and you can start planning for her baby.”

  The thought struck painfully that she might not be here for another foal. She blocked the sad suspicion. She’d tell Robert her dilemmas about the future another time.

  “I’ll bet she has pretty babies, too.”

  “She’s dropped three beauties since I’ve had her—two fillies and a colt.”

  “You’ve been doing this horse breeding a long time, haven’t you? You must usually do the gentling yourself.”

  “I got my ways of halter-breakin’ ’em and getting ’em handled. Not like you do, though.”

  “You sure you don’t mind us taking over your peace and quiet, Robert? Your routine? We’ve moved in almost without permission.”

  He leaned against the fence and pointed toward his house. “Lookee what’s going on around here. I asked that boy to help with my porch. He fixed that and kept on goin’ like it’s his own daddy’s place.”

  Off between the pasture and the house, Jill could see a half-dismantled old wooden corncrib and Chase ripping at the decrepit slats with a sledge hammer and a crowbar. He’d already razed two dilapidated outbuildings and piled useable wood neatly and burned the rest.

  “It does look cleaner in the yard, doesn’t it?”

  “Hell, this place ain’t been mowed neat like this in three years. I’m lucky to chop the crabgrass a dozen times a summer. And you. There ain’t been flowers around here since Olive passed. Or a woman cooking dinner. Why would I want my old routine? I figure somebody must be missing you—you’re the one musta changed a routine.”

  He was right. Jill had changed her routine. She only went home to sleep nowadays. Maybe this was all a silly, slightly more grown-up way of playing house, but coming to Robert’s after work every day, kissing Chase hello, watching him fix up the property, planting flowers, was a perfect life.

  “It’s only my sister and mother at home. My mother has a plenty active social life without me, and Dee and I don’t get along that well, like I’ve told you.”

  “What is it with sisters these days?” He shook his head without censure. “You and yours, the young ones giving you fits at that barn you work at. You should all take lessons from the Nelson sisters.”

  “Nelson?”

  “Oh, they married the Lindquist and Hanson boys.”

  “Gladdie and Claudia?”

  “I don’t think anyone ever saw them apart.”

  “Still don’t.” Jill laughed. “And, you’re right. I probably should be more like they are.”

  The idea that she and Dee would ever grow older and watch over the town like Gladdie and Claudia was beyond fantastic.

  “Yeah.” Robert pushed away from the fence and sauntered off slowly, changing the subject as he went. “Anyway, I can’t get you or that boy of yours to take a red cent for all this renovation. That’s worth a little disruption.”

  “All right. I know how you could pay me. Has Gypsy ever been ridden?”

  Robert looked back. “Been a long while, but yes.”

  “If you’d let me try her, that would be more than payment enough.”

  Robert continued walking. “Fine, fine. Whatever you like. Besides, whoever said I like peace and quiet?”

  MONDAY, JULY THIRD, Becky Barnes showed up for her sixth lesson of the summer. Not a single week had been canceled despite the mercurial Becky’s regular threats, and Mondays loomed like the most difficult jumps in a cross-country course—to be negotiated with extreme care and planning.

  After Becky’s flash of interest in Dragon, she’d reverted to her uncharming self, and if Jill was confused about her own future, she despaired for Becky’s. Between the girl’s lack of progress, her sister’s clear longing to be with the horses, and their mother’s reluctance to address either issue, Jill was ready to suggest throwing in the towel for the first time in her teaching career.

  When Becky slouched out of her mother’s van, Jill could not face one more minute of watching the girl circle apathetically around the arena. Spur of the moment, she had Becky leave Roy in the pasture and saddle Sun instead. “You and I are leaving the arena behind today,” she told her. “It’s a holiday, let’s go have some fun.”

  Becky gave no indication she knew fun from cod liver oil.

  After tacking up Cassidy and mounting with Becky, they left Anita, clearly skeptical, to wait out the hour with Jamie.

  “What do you think?” she asked when she and Becky left the stable yard. “Fun yet?”

  “Sure.” Sarcasm oozed from the teen. “Definitely the best idea ever.”

  Jill ignored the rudeness, preferring it to the girl’s usual shrug. She purposely gave no instructions except to tell her a little about Sun—how old he was and how long she’d owned him. Slowly, when Becky realized Jill was on the level about no formal lesson, she relaxed. When Cass gave a fresh little crow hop at a bird flying past, Becky actually giggled. When Sun broke into a trot at her command, Becky dropped her heels and posted better than she ever had.

  “They look like each other,” she said at last, without directly referencing the two horses by name. “How did you do that?”

  “Pure luck.” Jill hid her delight at Becky initiating a conversation. “Like I need three horses, right?”

  “Like you need one.”

  “That’s true.” Jill laughed. “Most people would say horses are not necessary to life. That might not be true for me. What about you? What do you have that’s unnecessary?”

  “Green hair.”

  A genuine bubble of laughter burst from Jill. She’d never have guessed the child had an IQ over a hundred.

  They ambled along the same path Jill had ridden with Chase, and she dared broach the subject of school, fully expecting no response. Instead, Becky answered with a tidy synopsis.

  “I like science. I hate English. Math is boring. My social studies teacher last year was cute, but he was a dork, like most of the boys.”

  Jill nearly tumbled off Cassidy’s back in shock. “Well,” she said, before the moment passed. “It’s okay if seventh grade boys seemed like dorks. They get better with age.”

  “Maybe like that Chase guy. Is he your boyfriend?”

  The question took her complete aback. “Wow. I don’t know that I can call him a boyfriend.” But then again, what else would he be?

  “He likes you.”

  Jill stared ahead, inexplicably unnerved. “How can you tell that? You’ve only met him a few times.”

  Becky’s shrug this time was an honest gesture. “It’s obvious.”

  Jill wondered why the opinion of a troubled teenager should make her heart pound. “I like him, too.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  The ride was an unqualified success. After emerging from the woods on their way to the stables, they flushed a pheasant cock out of the tall grass. Sun, the consummate trail horse, barely blinked. Cassidy, on the other hand, jumped sideways two feet, wheeled, and threatened to wheel and bolt. Jill calmed her and brought her back to Sun’s side. Rebecca watched with wide eyes.

  “Wow, you didn’t fall off.”

  It hadn’t been much of an incident, but Becky had seen it as a feat.

  “It’s just experience, Becky. You’ll learn to be comfortable, too, I promise.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “You can do anything you want, kiddo, don’t sell yourself short.” She took in the slender girl with the round-cheeked, overly made-up face. Becky still stiffened now and then as she experimented with skills she’d somehow picked up over six weeks, but basically she rode more easily than she ever had. The breakthrough seemed like a gift.

  “Do you know there’s a big horse show here at the end of August? I think you should make it a goal to ride. You can show Roy. Or Sun,” Jill added impulsively.

  Becky wrinkled her nose, whether in distaste or uncertainty Jill wasn’t sure.

  “You don’t have to, but I’m willing to help you get there. We’d have two months to get you ready.”

&
nbsp; “Are you doing it?”

  “I am. With Dragon and this one.” She stroked Cass’s neck.

  Becky didn’t reply, but she didn’t shrug either.

  The outing’s success ended the moment they returned to the barn. Anita and Jamie waited expectantly, and with the first inquiry from her sister, Becky copped her familiar sullen, closemouthed attitude. With no choice but to ignore the animosity, just as she ignored Dee’s, Jill took Anita aside as she had done before and let Becky finish caring for Sun on her own.

  “It went really well today,” she said. “Without an audience she relaxed.”

  “A change of pace can be good once in a while.”

  “So, what do you think? Can we get Jamie up riding, too?”

  It had been two weeks since she’d first made the suggestion. Anita’s features clouded.

  “Yes, that. I did discuss it with my husband. Jamie’s gone through so much change adjusting to junior high and watching her friends playing all the sports she can’t. She’s starting to like the activities up at Courage Center. We, and her doctor for that matter, think we shouldn’t throw something new in her path right now.”

  Jill stomach couldn’t have hurt more had Anita punched her. She eked out a calm voice. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m disappointed.”

  “And the other thing is, horseback riding has become something Rebecca can excel at without worrying about her sister. We need to keep it as her activity for a while.”

  Jill swallowed rising anger. The whole argument was ludicrous, even aside from the idea that Becky was excelling at the sport.

  “Have you asked Rebecca about this? Have you consulted Jamie? That’s a young lady who really wants to ride horses again someday.”

  “Someday I’m sure she will.”

  Anita simply turned away, closing the subject unalterably.

  Jill reeled as if she’d announced a death. In fact, something had died—if only an idea she’d loved too much before she should have let it take root in her heart. She slogged through the rest of the day in a murky, undefined grief, and by the time she headed home, Jill still couldn’t figure out why one little girl should mean enough to make her so sad. And so angry.