by Mae Nunn
In the morning she received this reply:
Stella,
No worries. We all have our issues and I do understand you.
Will you support me in my dreams of going on a date with you tonight? No dangerous or risky behavior planned, unless that includes kissing.
You are important to me, too.
Joiner
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SUMMER HAD COME to the ranch. It was as hot as a firecracker outside, and with kids out of school, Joiner’s side of Star Stables was booming. Apparently word had gotten out that he had a handsome new assistant from the college, because it seemed as if every teenage girl in Kilgore had signed up for riding lessons. Thank goodness Harper had riding experience and could pretty much handle lessons on his own. Joiner had to recruit Buster to teach on the regular schedule, as well.
Joiner was happy to be busy, however, because the business brought in revenue for the school and he just didn’t know how long he would be there to keep the lessons going. Riding lessons were cheaper than therapy, of course, but at least everybody who signed up for them could pay. Stella continued to add clients who needed the therapy services but didn’t have the money to pay what it cost, so the hippotherapy side of things was a little touch and go.
But of course, Clint had a solution for that: another fund-raiser, this one for July Fourth. They’d called it the Star Spangled Stables fund-raiser.
If Clint Cavender wasn’t such a darn good person, Joiner would be tempted to hate his guts. But Clint was good. And a great friend. Still, it killed Joiner that he just couldn’t compete with the Cavender fortune. And it seemed every time Stella needed something for the school, Clint was Johnny-on-the-spot with some idea for how to help her get it. His solutions were creative, but on some level they usually meant he’d be hauling out his moneybags to save the day. That was sure to happen again on the Fourth of July.
The fund-raising event was sure to draw a crowd and lots of money for the school, and Joiner felt guilty for even thinking negative thoughts about it. It really was kind, and it really was generous, and it really was a good idea. But it really was annoying, too.
And if it wasn’t for comparing himself to Clint, Joiner would have been more excited about what he was accomplishing by breeding Pistol. Things were going great, with a third of the mares bred already, and if all continued as planned, Joiner stood to make about a quarter of a million dollars. But what was a quarter of a million compared to Clint’s millions? And, why was he comparing himself anyway?
He knew the root of it was his relationship with Stella. Things couldn’t go on as they were. For one thing, the yearning he felt for her was powerful, but he wanted to keep it pure. He was finding that more and more difficult as time went on, especially since he lived in an RV that was practically in her backyard. But that needed to change, as well. He didn’t want to take advantage of Buster’s generosity.
There was no way Joiner could justify using Buster’s pasture for breeding again next year. He’d kept up his end of the bargain with Buster—to get the ranch in shape by mending fences, doing odd jobs and helping Buster with whatever he needed done. He’d also helped Stella establish Star Stables. They’d opened the doors together, and he’d been instrumental in building its reputation every step of the way since. The school was thriving, as long as it was funded. No one could question the quality of the services they provided.
The arrangement had worked for all of them. The ranch and Stella’s school were all up and running. Breeding season was almost done. Everything outward said it was time for him to move on. Pocket the money he’d clear with Pistol, buy himself some land and move forward with his hope of clearing Pap’s name.
But everything outward wasn’t everything there was. The bigger picture was that Joiner was emotionally attached to Stella, an attachment that went deeper than any he’d ever had with a woman. So how could he move on?
Joiner pondered this conundrum as he measured shampoo into a bucket. His nieces had spent the afternoon with him at Star Stables, and before he took them home he was going to let them bathe Pistol to help keep him cool.
Carrie, Meg and Hope had come into Joiner’s life when his younger brother Cullen had married their mother, Sarah. The girls’ father had died several years ago, leaving Sarah a widow. She’d ended up meeting Cullen when she went back to school at the university where he taught. Their relationship had been transformative for Cullen, and a big part of that was the chance it had given him to be a father. Now that he was in Kilgore for a bit, Joiner was happy that he was getting the chance to be an uncle, as well.
“Meg, go get the water hose.”
She unwound it from its stand beside the barn and dragged it over to him. He filled the bucket till the shampoo turned nice and sudsy. Then he carefully wet Pistol down with the hose.
“Okay, Hope, you start with his side here.” He handed the youngest girl a soft brush full of the soapy water. Then he positioned Meg on the other side. For the more difficult places on the horse he would work with Carrie, the oldest.
“Uncle Joiner, when are you going to take me to the movies?” Hope asked as she dipped her brush back into the bucket. “Like you did with Carrie.”
“Yeah. Me, too,” said Meg. “I wish I could have gone to The Fault in Our Stars.”
“Well, Mom said you were both too little for that movie,” Carrie retorted. “I was the only one who was old enough to go.”
Hope exhaled loudly. “I don’t care about the dumb old fault in our stars, anyway. I want to go see Sponge Bob.”
“Is there a new one?” Joiner asked as he cleaned Pistol’s hoof.
“Yeah, and it looks awesome.”
“I don’t want to see that either,” Meg confided. “I want to go to my own movie with Uncle Joiner.”
“Yeah,” said Hope. “I want to pick where we eat and go by Cavender’s Clothing Store just like Carrie got to.”
“Me, too, Uncle Joiner,” Meg pleaded. “Can we?”
The hope in her eyes was irresistible.
By the time they finished bathing Pistol, Joiner was hooked up for two more movie dates. It seemed the other girls needed their due, which was fair enough. He remembered what it was like to grow up with three brothers. He wanted each one of the girls to feel they were unique and special to him, because they were.
Splash! The unique and special Meg sprayed him with the hose when he returned from putting up Pistol. He looked as though he’d wet his pants!
“You’re going to get it now!” Joiner took off, chasing her with the bucket of suds.
When Carrie got in on the action, hitting him in the arm with her sponge, he dumped the bucket in her direction. All he accomplished was splashing her shoes. Out of danger of the suds, Hope jumped on his back while Meg sprayed him some more.
When he collapsed in the grass by the barn, the three girls dog-piled him. He was on the bottom of the pile wrestling one on one leg, one on the other and one on his shoulders when Stella walked up with her camera and snapped a picture.
Joiner groaned.
“This will be great for our new website. Thank you, girls!” She winked at them and sauntered away.
Joiner figured it was about time he took the girls home. Cullen was in the backyard grilling pork chops when Joiner and the girls drove up. Sarah directed the girls to set the table while she fixed the side dishes, and sent Joiner outside with two glasses of iced tea, one for him and one for Cullen. She insisted that he stay for dinner. For a bachelor like Joiner, it wasn’t a hard sell.
Their dinner of steaming baked potatoes, green salad with fresh tomatoes and onions from the garden, barbecued pork chops and homemade rolls was delicious. The talk around the table was sweet, first about the girls and how much fun they’d had at the ranch that day, and then about Cullen and Sarah, with their genuine interest in each other and the family. Watching their easy banter, the way Sarah touched Cullen, casually laying her hand on his arm, and the way he served her, Joiner felt as if he was i
n the midst of a miracle. It was hard to imagine that this same Cullen used to keep himself so guarded and buried in books.
“But that’s just it. I’m not the same Cullen,” his brother said later when Joiner mentioned the observation to him. They were cleaning the kitchen while Sarah put the girls in bed. “Falling in love with Sarah and her girls changed my life completely.”
“How did you know it was right? I mean, how did you know she was the one?”
Cullen looked up from the baking dish he was scrubbing. “There are so many things I love about Sarah, Joiner. She’s strong and beautiful and good. And the girls—they make me laugh. They need me. They remind me of what really matters.
“But the way I really knew she was the one—the thing that changed everything—was when I had to face my cutting and tell her about it.”
Joiner took in the faded network of tiny scars on Cullen’s arms, visible because of his rolled-up sleeves. He nodded. “I remember that night.”
“You actually helped me a great deal.”
“Me?”
Cullen laughed. “Yes. Remember? You all came over here with Alma and Felix, and I was having so much trouble talking about the cutting I had done as a teenager, and you just blurted it out?”
“Oh yeah.” Joiner felt a little sheepish at the memory.
“It was good, Joiner. Because in that moment I realized you all knew, and loved me anyway. And that helped me to be able to tell Sarah. Even though I thought I was risking everything with her.”
Joiner took the dish from Cullen and rinsed it. Then he dried it off with a towel. “So, let me get this straight. And I promise I’m not trying to be stupid. I really need to understand.”
“Okay?” Cullen urged him on, an understanding smile on his lips.
“You knew you were in love with Sarah. But the thing that made it a forever kind of love was that she helped you confront the truth about yourself and quit hiding it?”
“Yes,” Cullen said. “She reached me in a very deep place, deeper than anyone else ever had, and helped me not to feel so alone.”
Joiner bristled. “But you were never alone. The Brotherhood was always there.”
“I know, but she even helped me appreciate that more fully.”
“Well, what do you mean by alone, then?”
“Sarah completes me. I’m not sure how else to say it but that. And I knew it the moment I saw her I had to—and learned that I could—trust her with my deepest, darkest secret.”
Joiner put down the towel. “That’s really beautiful, man. And philosophical and poetic. If I wasn’t convinced you were totally serious, and hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes, well, I might not believe it. But I do. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“Are you getting pretty serious with Stella?” Cullen asked. “I didn’t realize things were moving that fast.”
“I don’t know,” Joiner answered. “I have no idea where our relationship is going. I really like her a lot.”
“Do you trust her?”
“Yeah. That’s what I was thinking when you were talking. I could trust her with anything. But she’s already aware of my past. It’s pretty obvious I’m a washed-up polo player. That’s not something I could really hide.”
“Well, it’s a cliché, and I hate worn-out sayings, but this one has been true in my own experience. ‘When it’s right, you’ll know it, just like when you know it’s wrong’.”
“Uh, I’ve never heard that saying in my life, Cullen.”
Cullen threw the dishrag at him. “Even better, then.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“HOLD STILL!”
Joiner squirmed more than a worm in hot ashes.
“That tickles!”
“I am never going to get the stars right if you can’t be still.”
Joiner, who was seated on a lawn chair, straightened like a soldier from the waist up and saluted. He was still for a total of five seconds. Then he burst out laughing again as the paintbrush swooshed across his right nipple, covering it in white paint. His whole chest erupted in spasms, cracking the paint on her masterpiece as if it was painted during the Renaissance.
“I give up!” Stella stepped away from her human canvas and placed the brush in the jar of water that was on the table beside them. “You’re going to have to find another artist.”
He grabbed her wrist gently. “What if I don’t want any other artist?” Then he pulled her toward him, careful not to smudge any paint.
“I simply cannot work under these conditions,” Stella protested, but his eyes were already working their magic on her.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m not accustomed to a beautiful woman painting my chest.”
Stella shook her head. “You are impossible, you know that?”
“But you are crazy about me.”
“I guess there’s no denying that.” Stella kissed him on the lips.
“You guess?”
She kissed him again.
“That’s a little better.”
She picked the brush up again and pointed it at him. “Now, are you going to hold still or not? I just have a couple more stars and we will be done.”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
When she finally finished, even Joiner had to admit it was perfect. Stella had taken a pair of jean shorts she’d bought for the occasion and painted them with white stars on one leg, and red-and-white stripes on the other. Using her shorts as a pattern, she had then painted Joiner’s torso and arms to match. He had become a human flag. She even painted the lines with a bit of a curve, as if the flag was flying in a breeze.
“Selfie!” She pulled out her phone. In her shorts and white shirt, standing beside his flag torso paired with jeans and boots, they were a matching pair. The only problem was that Joiner looked so sexy she wasn’t sure she wanted him going out in public. Could this really have been her idea? Well, it was too late now.
They drove up to the palatial Chateau Cavender early, as Clint had instructed. Waiting for them on the circle drive, a valet took Joiner’s keys and went to park the truck elsewhere. Clint bounded down the stairs like a kid on Christmas morning. He then led them back up and onto the extensive grounds, which had been transformed into a sight to behold.
There were flags everywhere—both the national and the Texas state flag. From the giant balcony in front of Clint’s home, as well as every window, patriotic banners were draped in half-moon shapes.
He’d gone all out on refreshments, too. Everywhere she looked there were silver barrels full of iced-down drinks. A station with a galvanized watering tank for horses, large enough to be a swimming pool, said Seed Spitting Contest. The tank was full of Black Diamond watermelons, also on ice.
Underneath Clint’s beautiful oak trees, there were tables set up—long, white tables—with patriotic flower centerpieces and metallic confetti the shape of stars sprinkled everywhere. They all faced a stage where a live band was setting up. Servers in black-and-white uniforms stood at the ready with iced tea, lemonade and water.
And oh, the smell of the food. Stella’s mouth began to water before she even saw Hunt and his catering crew. They were there from Temple Territory with loads of his special-recipe barbecue brisket, coleslaw, baked beans and sweet potato fries. There was also an ice-cream sundae station, with blueberries and strawberries as toppings to continue the patriotic theme.
“What are you charging per plate?” Joiner asked Clint, trying to make some sense of how much the event might raise.
“It’s donation only—and all of the proceeds go to the school.”
Stella didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This event—and Clint’s overwhelming support—seemed too good to be true. But it was key if she was going to be able to operate Star Stables the way she wanted to. Stella didn’t want to turn anyone away. And she couldn’t expect Joiner to stay around teaching lessons forever, though she couldn’t bear to think of him leaving. But even with her handsome ranch hand, she was like Davi
d up against Goliath when it came to covering the costs for people who couldn’t pay.
Right beside the food, another station featured information about Star Stables. Jacob Hunnicutt was there already, sporting a cowboy hat and wearing red, white and blue. There were brochures, sign-up information and printed testimonials from parents. A sign beside a fishbowl read that they would be drawing for two one-year scholarships to the riding school, compliments of Cavender’s, Inc. Stella was blown away.
“Clint, I can’t believe you have done all of this!”
“You like it?” He grinned broadly.
“Like doesn’t begin to cover it. But I feel indebted—” Stella began.
“I am the one who is in your debt.” Clint stared into her eyes for a long moment. “Look over there.”
Stella turned to see another station in the distance. There was a circular pen with four ponies. Inside, Daune Holzman—in an Uncle Sam outfit—led a horse around with Cade on its back. The boy noticed them watching. He raised his hand, not quite waving, and smiled.
As guests started to arrive, she and Joiner tried to mingle. It was strange to not be the official hostess of an event that benefited her school, but Clint had insisted on handling everything. Daune told her that he’d paid everyone, including her and Jacob, to man their stations, not expecting them to donate their precious time.
With that knowledge, Stella began to relax. Buster showed up after helping out over at Hickey’s arena, and challenged her and Joiner to compete with him in the seed spitting contest. They walked over to the watermelon tank, where Harper was cutting slices.
“Hey, man! Where’d you get that cool shirt?” Harper asked when he saw Joiner.
Joiner flexed his muscles for Harper, popping his pecs. Harper shook his head, and Stella rolled her eyes, laughing. “Dude, this thing is custom-made,” Joiner bragged.
“Did you paint that?” Harper turned to Stella.
“Yes, and as you might imagine, it was no small chore.”
Harper laughed. “Well, it’s really cool.” He handed a slice of watermelon to each of them. “Mr. Scout, you ready to show them how it’s done?”
