Lone Star Refuge

by Mae Nunn

“Just to the RV. We have work to do tomorrow, unless you’re going to fire me.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “No.” She kicked into business mode. “Okay, um, let’s meet in the morning at eight. You can shadow me throughout the day and see what it’s like working the horses and stuff. But of course you have to keep in mind that when the clients start coming, everything will change.”

  Joiner nodded. “Eight it is.” He tipped his hat to her as he headed for the steps. “Stella?” He paused on the second one. The corners of her mouth turned up when he said her name. “I think everything might have already changed.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  STELLA THREW SOME yogurt and granola down her throat and was out the door at sunrise the next morning. It was rare that she beat Buster to the kitchen, but she hadn’t slept too well the night before. Thoughts of Joiner buzzed around in her head like hummingbirds in a bed of zinnias. She had to get outside.

  Vega seemed a little agitated, too. She was already up and eyeing her new stable partner from across the way. She tossed her snowy white mane when Stella greeted her.

  Joiner’s horse, however, snorted when Stella came near. She didn’t open the door to his stall, but took the moment alone to size him up. Every inch of him evoked power. An Argentine Thoroughbred stallion. She had to admit he was pretty incredible. “You’re a beautiful boy.”

  A door creaked. “Thanks. But who are you calling a boy?”

  Stella turned to see Joiner standing at the opposite end of the stable where she’d stood just yesterday, ready to duel him.

  “Do you have X-ray ears or something?”

  He walked toward her. “I don’t think that’s a thing.”

  He’d tucked a white T-shirt into distressed Levi’s that she couldn’t call loose, and wore a flannel shirt the color of twilight open like a jacket. Brown belt, brown work boots. Wavy hair as dark as his horse peeked out from under his cowboy hat, and Stella willed herself not to remember how soft his hair had been against her cheek last night.

  “What are you doing up so early? You don’t have to clock in till eight.”

  “I figured I’d try to impress my boss.”

  There were lots of ways Stella could have replied to that. Instead, she said, “Well, I’m not on the clock yet, either. Vega and I are going for a ride.”

  “Care if Pistol and I join you?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  They saddled the horses and walked them slowly through the gate. Once out in the pasture, Stella and Vega took the lead, riding swiftly but surely. Joiner had to contain Pistol to keep from passing them. He followed for a while, and then pulled up beside her.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The north forty. There’s a lake…”

  “We’ll see you there.”

  Pistol shot forward, kicking up plugs of grass and dirt behind him, reminding Stella of just the type of dangerous horse—and rider—she was dealing with.

  Vega kept the pace Stella had set earlier, as if in silent understanding with her rider. They arrived at the shore of the lake to find Joiner sitting on a rock, and Pistol getting a drink from the clear, cool water.

  Stella dismounted. She led Vega to drink several steps away from Pistol. When Pistol had drunk his fill, Joiner tied him to a tree. Stella let Vega go but the horse stayed close by her master.

  “Want to sit?” Joiner motioned to the rock and Stella sat down on it with him.

  The sight was so peaceful and so filled with memories, Stella’s irritation melted away. They lounged side by side, looking out over the lake as the sun spilled its warmth across it. Ducks dived for their breakfast, creating golden ripples, and a heron peered at them from down the bank. Water bugs zigzagged in a pattern at the edge, right in front of the rock. A fish flopped, then another.

  “My mom and I used to come here a lot when I was a little girl. It was our favorite place.” Stella fingered her silver necklace and then brought it to her lips, touching it to them as though it was some religious relic. “There are all kinds of lily pads down at the other end—I named it Lake Lily.”

  “Your dad told me that she homeschooled you. She must have been really great.”

  “She was a great mom. Taught me so many things. I just wish…”

  Joiner stared at her intently. In his eyes Stella thought she saw tenderness, as well as compassion mixed with a certain curiosity. When he spoke his voice was kind. “What do you wish?”

  “I wish she’d been more careful.”

  They sat in heavy silence for a few moments, then Stella tried to explain what she still didn’t really understand herself, even after eight years. “I’m not angry with her, not anymore. And I don’t mean she was reckless. It’s just that, well, the free spirit that made her so amazing also made her sometimes—”

  “Not safe?”

  “Yeah. Or not careful enough to keep herself safe.”

  “And that’s why you want to teach people riding lessons. To keep them safe.”

  Stella nodded. “That’s also why I want to emphasize safety in my therapy sessions. So my disabled clients won’t come to any harm on my watch. I want Star Stables to be a place of healing.”

  “Well…” Joiner sighed. “My expertise is more of the ride fast, play hard variety. But I do know how to muck out stables.”

  “That’s a plus.” Stella laughed, grateful for his effort at a lighter mood, even though his comment about riding fast and playing hard bothered her.

  “Do you have any kind of schedule in mind for me?”

  She thought out loud. “We’re opening the doors in a week. I already have several clients signed up, but I need to finalize the schedule with my occupational therapist assistant and speech therapist. Funding is a huge issue there but after the donation I got yesterday I can budget enough to contract them each for a few months.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “Yes. It was really a relief getting that money.”

  “So what do you want my role to be?”

  “This week, let’s work together with the horses, especially the new ones. I’ll show you some basic hippotherapy techniques.”

  “Okay.”

  “And there will be a lot of grunt work. Your mucking skills will probably be in high demand.”

  Joiner rose from the rock and offered her a hand up. “I guess we better get to it, huh, boss?”

  “We’re burning daylight.” As they climbed onto their horses, Stella wondered if maybe her father hadn’t been completely crazy to hire Joiner after all.

  *

  BACK AT THE STABLES, they tended to their own horses and then worked with Daisy and the two others Stella had just purchased. One of them was a paint named Picasso, and the other a red quarter horse with a black mane and tail named Dakota. Stella was happy with how calmly they behaved, and was impressed by Joiner’s expertise in handling them. He was obviously a natural with horses. He picked up quickly on everything she showed him about hippotherapy, even if he seemed a little bit bored.

  Around noon a car came up the driveway. Stella recognized it from the previous morning as Clint Cavender’s black Mercedes S600 Guard. He stepped out in shiny black leather boots with a matching belt, starched jeans and a black silk shirt that Stella guessed was probably Prada. A black cowboy hat completed the look that screamed rich. But his smile was as down-to-earth as he was.

  “Clint Cavender?” Joiner shocked her by speaking his name. She was further surprised when he jumped over the fence of the pen and strode in Clint’s direction, who was just as eagerly jogging toward him.

  “Joiner Temple! Is that really you? I can’t believe my eyes.”

  Joiner wiped his hands on his jeans and offered his hand to Clint, who took it and pulled Joiner into a bear hug.

  “Hey, man, don’t get your fancy clothes dirty!”

  “Shoot. I don’t give a dang about that.”

  Stella, who had walked across the pen toward them, leaned on the fence. “You two know each other?”<
br />
  Clint took his hat off to address her. “Hi there.”

  “Know each other?” Joiner said. “You mean you’ve never heard of the dynamic duo of Kilgore High School?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Oh, well, I forgot we were a little bit before your time.” Joiner clapped Clint on the shoulder. “This guy right here was the quarterback when Kilgore won the state championship, and I was his receiver. We were what you might call football gods.”

  Clint blushed.

  Stella made a bowing motion. “Oh, forgive me.”

  “I believe we were outshone by a little rodeo star who showed up a few years later.” Clint elbowed Joiner. “Her name is the one on the Welcome to Kilgore sign.”

  “We were robbed.”

  It was Stella’s turn to blush.

  “It’s great to see you, man,” Clint said to Joiner. “What brings you back to God’s country? I thought you were traveling the globe on a polo pony.”

  Joiner kicked an invisible football. “I was, but polo’s too expensive for a regular cowboy. It would be okay for one like you, though.”

  “Too bad I’m no good on a horse.”

  “You never were.” Joiner grinned. “You were pretty good with numbers, though, as I remember. Did you finish up at Harvard?”

  Stella was learning a lot by listening to them.

  “Yes, thank God. I got enough of living in Yankeeland to last me a lifetime.”

  “What are you up to now? You live here?”

  “I do. I built a house, and I’m running the family business for my dad, and raising my son, Cade.” Clint pulled out his wallet to show Joiner Cade’s picture.

  “He’s the one I told you about,” Stella interjected, giving Joiner a look she hoped he’d understand. “I’m excited about having him at the school.”

  Joiner nodded in understanding. “Oh yeah.” Then he turned back to Clint. “Well, cool! Maybe I’ll get to hang out with him some. I’m this lady’s new ranch hand.”

  They visited awhile longer by the fence and then Clint said, “Well, Stella, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by to see your operation. But I don’t want to keep you guys any longer from what you were doing.”

  “It’s fine. I’m glad you came.”

  “Me, too,” said Joiner. “It’s awesome to see you, Cavender.” He turned to Stella. “Hey, Boss Lady, I could finish up while you show him around if you want.”

  “Thanks. We do need to keep our donors happy.”

  She’d meant it as a joke, but for some reason Joiner’s smile faded. He glanced between the two of them, then jumped back over the fence and into the pen without another word.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TAP…TAP…TAP.

  Joiner looked up from the book he was reading on the couch. He hoped the person at the door was one of his brothers, or at least Buster, as he was in his boxers and nothing else.

  “Joiner? It’s me, Stella.”

  “Oh! Uh, just a second!” He ducked underneath the windows and sprinted into the bedroom in a crouch, pulling on a gray T-shirt and jeans before he went back to the door. He caught his breath when he opened it, but not from the hurry.

  Stella stood before him in an exotic lace-trimmed georgette dress, light blue with a colorful landscape print. The hem flirted a little above the knees in the front before it tapered down to midcalf length in the back. Leather Andromeda boots had been hand-finished with studded stars that looked as if they’d been scattered across a tan sky.

  “Hello, Boss Lady.”

  “Hey. Sorry to bother you.”

  “You’re not bothering me.” Joiner opened the door wider. “Want to come in?”

  “Sure.” Stella stepped inside the RV and Joiner closed the door behind her. “I’ve got some dinner here for you. You want it in the fridge?”

  Joiner suddenly noticed the covered dish in her hand.

  “Buster—I mean my dad—is afraid you’re going to starve to death or something. He wanted me to bring you this.” She set it on the counter.

  “It’s probably because he’s seen how hard you work me.” Joiner peeked under the aluminum foil to find pot roast and potatoes. “Yum. Really, this is very nice. Tell him I said thank you.”

  “It’s something he does. Feeds people.”

  “That’s a great quality. In fact, I don’t know where I’d find a better deal. Home-cooked meals, deluxe accommodations…” Joiner motioned around the room.

  Stella laughed. “Well, one out of two isn’t bad.”

  “You insulting my house? Don’t do that before I take you on a tour.”

  Joiner led her on a three-minute guided tour of the stripped, scrubbed and redecorated RV.

  “This is not bad. I like what you’ve done with it. Or should I say what Alma has done?”

  “Alma. With a little input from my brother Hunt’s wife, Gillian.”

  “I see you kept the red couch, though.”

  “Couldn’t get rid of that.” Joiner leaned against the counter which was the boundary of the kitchen, just inches from where Stella stood in the living area. He peeled the foil back from the plate of pot roast and took a bite.

  Stella picked up the book from the couch where Joiner had left it. “The Fault in Our Stars?”

  “Yeah. I just started it, but it looks like it’s going to be really good. One of my nieces recommended it.”

  Stella set it back down. “John Green. Cool.”

  “So, what’s going on tonight? You got a hot date or something?” Joiner tried to play it down, but he felt a pang of jealousy at the thought, remembering how Clint Cavender had just been in the neighborhood.

  Stella blushed and looked down at her boots. “What? No!” Then she looked him in the eye. “I’m actually going to church.”

  Joiner choked on a piece of potato. “Church on Saturday night. You Catholic?”

  “No. And I’m not going to a church service. The Presbyterian Church here in town is having a guest speaker tonight who happens to be one of my favorite authors, Adrienne Rutella. I’m going to hear her speak.”

  “Well, gosh dang.” That was the last thing Joiner would have ever guessed, but this gal was full of surprises. “Sounds interesting.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean.”

  Stella stared at him as if she was deciding whether or not to believe him. Nodding, she said, “Why don’t you go with me, then?” There was a dare in her espresso-colored eyes.

  “Are you asking me out, Boss Lady?”

  “What if I am?”

  He rubbed a hand across his stubbly face, contemplating. “I’d say you’re a pretty bold woman.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “Not what?”

  “Not asking you out.”

  Joiner feigned sadness. “Darn it!”

  “You can go if you want to—I mean, it’s fine. I mean, I’d like you to go. But I’m not asking.” Stella twisted her hands together. “And I’m not a bold woman. Not at all. You just make me do things I wouldn’t normally do.”

  Joiner liked the sound of that. “Such as?”

  “Such as kiss a stranger’s finger, for one thing.”

  “Stranger? Thanks a lot!”

  “Well, you were practically a stranger, then.”

  “You tried to set me on fire.”

  Stella’s face turned crimson. “That’s what I’m talking about. You have this weird effect on me.”

  “Go on.” Joiner laughed, enjoying her embarrassment.

  “Go on? Well, this. I just came to give you food. My dad made me. And now…”

  “Now?”

  “Now you think I’m asking you out.” Her voice was just above a whisper.

  “He had to make you? Really?”

  Stella rolled her eyes.

  “Would you normally drink a glass of wine after dinner?” He reached in the refrigerator for a bottle of Banfi
Brunello di Montalcino and poured two glasses.

  Stella shook her head. Her golden hair shimmered like sunshine on a lake.

  “Well, why don’t you sit down on that beautiful red couch, and do another crazy thing.” He handed her one of the glasses. Then he sat down beside her, clinking his glass against hers, and took a drink before digging back into the pot roast.

  She sipped her wine, then put it down.

  After Joiner finished a few more bites, he asked, “What time is this speaking engagement?”

  “In about an hour. But I want to get there early to get a good seat.”

  “It does sound like the place to be on a Saturday night in Kilgore. I bet it will be packed.”

  Stella punched him in the leg, but he saw the hint of a smile on her lips.

  Joiner got up from the couch and in two strides he was in the kitchen. He set down his still-full glass in the sink, recovered the plate Stella brought him with foil and placed it in the refrigerator. Facing her, he bowed. “Madam, if you will allow me to accompany you, I’d be honored, even if I must go to church on a Saturday night.”

  *

  HE OPENED THE passenger door to his Chevy Silverado and settled Stella into the dark gray leather seat. Then he got in beside her and drove to the First Presbyterian Church of Kilgore, which was an old church that served an old population. Joiner didn’t know anyone his age who went there.

  “How’s this bunch bringing somebody as young and famous as Adrienne Rutella to Kilgore?”

  “I read about it online. A parishioner left them a trust fund for things like this—for education.”

  “But she’s not Presbyterian, least I don’t think so.”

  “No, you’re right. That’s part of the trust, too. It’s to foster interdenominational relationships. Max Lucado is coming next.”

  “Pretty cool.”

  “Yeah. It is.” Stella raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t mind my asking, how do you know about Adrienne Rutella?”

  “What do you take me for? Some redneck Texas hick?”

  “If the boot fits…”

  “She was one of my teachers at UT.”

  “Oh, how awesome.”

  Joiner pulled into a parking space in front of the church. “Yeah. It was. She won’t remember me, but I’ll never forget her classes.”