by Mae Nunn
“Do you think you ever will be?”
“Are you? I mean, since you lost your parents?”
“Maybe not. Maybe we never are.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
STELLA HAD DONE well with releasing her fears and relaxing more. For the most part, she no longer stressed out over Buster, and since Joiner hadn’t gotten back on a bronc it was easier to keep her fears in check about his safety. Cha Cha was another matter, but she had to trust that the chemo was helping. And unlike Joiner, at least Cha Cha was not hell-bent on tempting fate. Instead she was fighting for her life, and though Stella worried about her constantly, she believed Cha Cha would come out the winner.
Aside from Cha Cha’s battle, what was keeping Stella up at night lately was the school and its endless financial troubles. It just seemed she never could get ahead of them. Soon Stella might have to start turning people away who couldn’t pay, which went against the very core of what Star Stables was to her. If she had to do that, she would have to change her whole vision for the school, and that was devastating.
The facilities themselves, the horses and the equipment needed for therapy had taken almost every penny initially donated, in addition to what she and Buster put in. Now, along with maintenance on those things, there was the problem of paying her workers—she and Joiner rarely saw a dime—and the seemingly endless costs involved with being compliant with all of the different health regulations. Trying to stay cutting-edge by sending staff to training or adding anything interesting like a new piece of equipment just wasn’t even on the table. So when it came to Star Stables, Stella was in survival mode.
She was pouring over her budget for the fiftieth time when she heard a knock on her office door. It was Clint Cavender.
“Could I come in for just a moment?”
“Sure, Clint.” It was always good to see him; since that first meeting at Common Grounds he had been the school’s biggest supporter. And after how closely they’d worked together to help Cade, she also considered him a friend. “What can I do for you?”
He sat down. “Stella, we need to talk.”
“Okay. What’s on your mind?”
“To be honest, you’ve been on my mind. You and this school that has come to mean so much to Cade and me.”
“Well, I appreciate that. Cade’s involvement and your support mean a great deal to the school, as well.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
“Clint, I know we talked about a hayride and some kind of fall festival to raise money but I think it’s too soon after the event in July. It doesn’t feel right. There has to be another way.” Stella set down her books and ran a hand through her hair.
“I’m glad you said that.”
“Really? I thought you might be disappointed. I know how you love hosting these swanky gatherings.”
“Fireworks, pony rides and a watermelon-seed spitting contest can hardly be called elements of a swanky gathering.”
“Okay, you have a point there.”
“But I agree with you that there’s another way.”
“What is it? Have the financial gods you run with come up with a new solution for small, not-for-profit operations like this one?”
“Well, I think I may have.”
Stella’s interest was piqued. She was well aware of Clint’s reputation as a financial genius.
“Stella, sell Star Stables to me.”
She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. This man was supposed to be her friend. Stella took a deep breath.
“Listen, I don’t want to take anything from you. I’m only trying to help you here. To give you something you need.”
“By buying me out?”
“Yes, actually.” Clint leaned forward and placed his hands on the desk. “If you sell the school to me I can place it under the protection and backing of Cavender Holdings. We can make you CEO and you can run the school the same as you do today, except with no financial worries. I’ll put it in a contract. No strings attached.”
“You’d do that? Why?”
Clint’s voice was tender. “Because I trust you. Because of what you and this school have done for my son. I just want to make sure it’s always here, and we can help all of the people who need it.”
A tear slid down Stella’s cheek. She wasn’t sure this was a solution she could live with, but just the fact that Clint shared her vision was comforting. He got it. It had become a passion for him as it was for her. And he was willing to buy it to preserve it. “Clint, I don’t know. Even if I could sell the school, it’s so tied to the ranch. And Buster doesn’t want to sell the ranch—not any part of it.”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you!” Clint’s face lit up in a smile. “That’s one of the beauties of the arrangement I’ve come up with. I could buy Star Stables as your intellectual property. A business, per se, a service. An idea but not a place. We can keep it where it is but rent the facilities and land from Buster. And of course I will pay you a good salary as CEO. That way everybody wins!”
Was he out of his mind? Stella couldn’t believe her ears. This was certainly not the kind of thing that had earned him his reputation in the business world. “Clint, this sounds too good to be true. And I was raised that when something sounds like that, it probably is.” She cocked her head to one side. “How would you be winning?”
“Well, it’s complicated from a business standpoint, I’ll admit. But I think I can make it work as a tax write-off, if nothing else. Also, this is a way Cavender Holdings can invest in the community. That’s something else about your vision that has always appealed to me.”
There was nothing in Stella that felt Clint was being insincere. He’d proven himself to be her friend in the past several months, and Joiner had been friends with him for years. It seemed a crazy move for Clint Cavender financially, but then again, his biggest motive was the health of his son. She reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. “Clint, you are a good man. I will think about all you have said, I promise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“JOINER, THIS IS an intervention.”
His brothers were his favorite people in the whole wide world, but sometimes they could be really annoying. They’d just shared a magnificent meal around Mac’s dining room table. Hunt had brought his fancy sweet-and-sour slaw to go with the pork ribs Mac had smoked all day over mesquite in his smoker. Joiner had contributed sweet corn on the cob he’d ordered from Sunshine for Dinner and an apple pie Stella had made when she found out the Brotherhood was meeting. And Cullen had baked homemade rolls from their grandmother’s recipe. So why were they all suddenly determined to ruin such a wonderful evening?
It was cool but not too cool, the perfect Texas autumn weather. Moonlight shone on the lake outside Mac’s great room, inviting them onto the deck. Joiner had thought they might play a few hands of cards after they cleared the table. Instead his brothers had gathered around him like buzzards on roadkill.
“Stella called us and she is concerned.”
Stella was in on this, too? Traitor.
“She told us you were considering going to ride broncos again.”
“And we’ve talked it over with Alma.”
“And she agrees.”
Enough was enough. “Look, guys, I appreciate your concern. All of you—the women, too.” Joiner exhaled slowly. “You’ve never understood everything I do. But I am a grown man. And if I want to ride broncos I’m going to do it.”
Hunt said, “That’s just the thing, dude. We do understand.”
“What?”
“Everything you do.”
“What in the heck do you mean?”
“We understand. The riding fast, the riding hard, the polo, the broncs, everything.”
“We are the Brotherhood,” Cullen said, rolling up his sleeves. “Remember? We know.” He traced the outline of one of his scars.
“You guys are weird. That’s all I have to say.”
Mac took over. “What the twins are tryi
ng to say, in their fairly strange and even creepy way, is that we understand more than you think we do. And, quite possibly, more than you understand yourself in this situation.”
“What situation?” Joiner demanded. “The situation in which a grown man decides to pursue a hobby without seeking the permission of his brothers?”
“Joiner, you know the story The Rocking-Horse Winner by D. H. Lawrence?”
“Um, yes. Because that has so much to do with what we’re talking about, Cullen.”
“It does, actually. Remember how the little boy rides his rocking horse till he dies because he’s trying to win his mother’s love?”
“Yeah, sort of. As I remember it has a couple of different themes.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” exclaimed Mac. “We think you want to ride broncos because you need an adrenaline rush to help you deal with stress and grief.”
“What…?” Joiner was dumbfounded. “Wait a minute, what did Stella tell you?”
“She only confirmed our theory,” Cullen said.
Hunt chimed in, “Yeah, and Alma said she’s always known.”
“Known what?”
Mac set his glasses down on the table. “Joiner, we all had certain ways we coped when Mom and Dad crashed.”
“Yeah…”
“Well, we all figured spending time with horses was your thing.”
“It was. That has been established.”
“But it never seemed destructive before so we all thought it was a good thing.”
“Unlike my cutting, for instance.” Cullen was matter-of-fact.
“Okay.”
“Except now it has become destructive.”
“How?”
“Because a doctor we trust has advised you that riding broncs can kill you.”
“Now wait just a cotton-picking minute—”
“And yet you’re determined to do it anyway.”
“And that’s crazy!” Hunt interjected, making a circular motion with his finger by his head.
“So,” Mac began again, shooting Hunt a look, “Joiner, I want you to think about why you’re doing this. Just tell us why it is so important to you.”
“Mac, I really—”
“All kidding aside, now, Joiner. We love you and we really need you to do this.”
Joiner thought as hard as he could. But he didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. It just is.”
“Can you see that it doesn’t make sense?”
“Rationally, I guess, yes.”
“Do you trust us?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust Stella?”
“Yes.”
“Joiner, we’re all begging you not to get back on a bronco, even if it means we all have to go to therapy with you.”
“Why on earth would I go to therapy? I mean, Cullen only had to go because of his cutting.”
Cullen nodded, unfazed. “Something I learned in therapy is that cutting relieved stress for me, and became a sort of addiction. Does riding broncs relieve stress for you?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Well, we do irrational things when we have an addiction. And it is irrational—you acknowledge that yourself—for you to get back on a bronc.”
*
AS JOINER DROVE home from Mac’s, he tried to consider the things his brothers had said. It was easier to be defensive and not give them a second thought, but he had to be honest here. All of his brothers had gotten together to talk to him. Stella agreed with them. So did Alma. Buster had cautioned him in the same way, refusing to give him lessons anymore. His doctor, a friend and a person he respected, had advised him against bronc riding. Essentially everyone who mattered to him, everyone he loved, had reached out and said no. He was causing them stress over it, enough that they’d staged an intervention. He’d be a fool if that didn’t get his attention.
His phone buzzed in the console and he hit Bluetooth to answer it. It was a number he didn’t recognize. “Hello?”
“Hello? Is this Joiner Temple?”
“It is. Who is this?”
“My name is Piet Quade.”
“With the German national polo team?”
Piet laughed. “Oh, this is a good thing. You know who I am.”
“Yes, of course.” Joiner’s heart began to race as if he was being carried away by wild horses.
“I hope it is a convenient time to call.”
“It’s fine. It’s ten o’clock here.”
“Oh, it is later than I thought for you in Texas.”
“It’s no problem, really.”
“Well, um, Joiner. I’ve seen footage of some of your matches when you were with the Dutch team a few years ago.”
“Yes, sir. I remember we played you guys a pretty hard match.”
“You obliterated us.” Piet enunciated every consonant.
Joiner laughed. “It was a good match for the Dutch, and their one American.”
“Well, as you apparently know, I have recently acquired the German team. I would like to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
“Like in The Godfather.”
Piet laughed. “Yes. Just like that.”
“Well, what’s your offer?”
“Come to Europe to play polo for Germany. I will offer you a salary of six figures a year plus we’ll cover all of your horses and gear. Help me build a winning team. And when you retire, you will have your own place training horses and riders at my facilities outside Berlin. Money will not be an issue. That is my commitment to you.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, Joiner. I am in need of a player with your particular skills. I hope you will consider the offer.”
Joiner didn’t know what to say. If this call had come a few months ago, it would have been the solution to everything—his restlessness, his finances, losing his identity as a polo player. His heart began to race like a fast horse. But now he had a nagging feeling—a part of him that wondered if this was still his dream. He’d been happier than he ever imagined he would be, carving out a new life on Buster’s ranch. With Stella. Was there a way to say yes to one future without giving up the other?
CHAPTER THIRTY
WITH THE COMING of fall, Stella had to adjust the schedule at Star Stables once again. Kids were back in school, so that left the hours between eight and three much more open than they had been in the summer.
Cade and the other clients who’d starting coming shortly after she’d opened pretty much went back to the same schedule they’d had in the spring. But during the summer she’d added so many school-age clients, it was a little tricky figuring out how to schedule them all in either the early mornings or afternoons. Some of them had modified school schedules, of course, which made them easier to schedule during the day, but still, she was going to have to start working earlier every morning and later than normal on at least three evenings per week.
She’d also been able to start a new partnership with the nursing home in Kilgore. The leadership there had heard of the great things happening at her school, and had requested a meeting with her. They’d worked out a deal and now geriatric patients were coming to Star Stables for physical and occupational therapy on Stella’s horses. And residents who weren’t quite as ill could come and interact with the horses on Joiner’s side of things. The whole arrangement was really a win-win, and had been a boost for Stella as well as the nursing home and the community. Still, it wasn’t enough to make up for her financial shortfall, and Clint’s offer weighed heavily on her mind.
But this weekend she was going to leave all those stresses behind. Usually the third weekend in October meant a trip to Cha Cha’s for the War Eagle Mill Arts and Crafts Festival, not far from Cha Cha’s home. It had been a tradition since Stella was tiny, when she and Lily and Cha Cha had made the first pilgrimage. They’d kept it a priority every year since. It had been especially important for her and Cha Cha to continue in Lily’s absence, a way to stay connected, a way to remember.
But this year Cha Cha couldn’t go. She’d had a double mastectomy a month before, and the doctor said there was no way she should go out among a crowd. So, Stella and Joiner had decided to go together, and they were going to spend two nights with Cha Cha so Joiner could meet her, and she could check him out.
Stella hoped Cha Cha would be able to give her some insight into the man after she met him. She still wasn’t sure. Was he the staying kind?
When they arrived on Friday night Cha Cha was on the porch as usual, wrapped in a fuzzy afghan and sitting in a chair. She didn’t get up, but waited for them to climb the steps, and invited them to sit down in her porch swing.
“You don’t know how hard it is for me not to hug you,” she told Stella. “I’m getting tired of all of these doctor’s orders.”
“It’s hard for me, too,” Stella replied. “But we’ll do whatever we have to do to reduce your risk of germs.”
“Stella’s pretty germy,” Joiner said. “I risk my life every time I hug her.” He gave Stella a side squeeze.
“She told me you were funny.”
“Cha Cha, meet Joiner. Joiner, this is my Cha Cha.”
“The famous Cha Cha.” Joiner took off his hat and bowed.
Cha Cha laughed. “I hate it that you are meeting me in this state. I am usually so much more glamorous, aren’t I, Stella?” She touched a hand to the pink turban that covered her bald head. “Wait, don’t answer that.”
They chatted for a few minutes on the porch and then Joiner excused himself to go to the bathroom. While he was gone, Cha Cha showed Stella her prosthesis.
“It looks really nice,” Stella said.
“Well, it’s as heavy as a sack of lead. I’m only wearing it in your honor.”
“I am very flattered—thank you so much!”
“Well, I could hardly go around with a scooped-out chest with that cowboy in the house.”
“I thought you looked fine without it the last time I was here.”
“It is certainly more comfortable without this thing. But I just hate the way my clothes hang if I don’t wear it.”
When Joiner returned to the porch, Cha Cha rose carefully. “Do you mind if we go in? I love it outside, but it’s a little chilly without the sun.”
