“The hell you didn’t!” With hands on hips, Maggie glared hard through tears. “You might as well have.”
“It’s just that he’s so mysterious. He’s a stranger. You’re doing what a lot of women dream about.”
“And you think those kinds of dreams turn into nightmares.”
“I dunno—romance doesn’t happen here in Beaverhill. That’s Hollywood stuff.”
“Maybe I should be warning Brad to stay away from you.” Instantly alarmed at her own bitterness, Maggie said, “I’m sorry, Flo. I didn’t mean that. Maybe you’d best be going. I’m not very good company today.”
Casting a horrified look over her shoulder, Flo moved swiftly down the steps toward her car.
“Thanks for bringing the medicines by,” Maggie shouted at her friend’s back. The slam of a car door was the only reply. Maggie fell back onto the porch swing and sobbed. Belatedly, she realized that Flo had never mentioned what country western tune was playing on the car radio when she drove into the driveway.
Within an hour the phone rang. Maggie answered.
“I’m sorry, Maggie,” Flo said. “You’re woman enough for three men.”
“Whoa.” Maggie laughed. “I don’t want to go there. But I do appreciate your confidence. I’m glad you called. I know I was upset and rude earlier. I’m sorry.”
“It didn’t matter. We’ve been through a lot worse.”
“Guess you’re right about that. What are old friends for if they can’t get ticked at one another now and then?”
“Stop by the diner when you’re in town next. Love you.”
“Of course I will. Love you, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next morning, standing before the loft window, Ed watched the slouched form of Maggie carrying his breakfast. He supposed he should have gone over to the house; he could have managed. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to handle Maggie yet.
There was no question in his mind that he’d hurt her badly the day before. He’d spent most of the remainder of the day and night trying to explain to himself why he had felt it so necessary for her to grasp that he would be leaving. There was plenty of time. He wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. And it would take some time to figure out who was trying to scare Maggie off her land.
He never intended to hurt Maggie, yet every time he said something or did something he wound up hurting her anyway. Ed scowled at the memory of her leaving his room.
How had she deceived herself so? She couldn’t really love him. Maybe she loved some reformed image of him, or of herself as his reformer.
He squared his shoulders, readying himself to withstand her latest strategy for getting him to change.
Maggie knocked, entered and set down the tray of scrambled eggs, bacon, juice and coffee. At last she looked at him.
Ed’s stomach lurched. Sunken eyes greeted him. Where had their spark gone? Each eye sat back over a darkened, fleshy bag. Maggie didn’t wear eye-liner. Dammit to hell, he screamed to himself. No words came from his dry throat. His hands began to shake.
“We’ve got to talk,” Maggie said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
“I’m sorry,” Ed replied. His words were shaky. Only with a strong will was he able to keep from hugging the woman to his body. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Maggie’s eyes grew cold. “It doesn’t matter. You did. But it doesn’t matter. I’m over that now.”
Like hell. Ed had been lied to by women many times. Some of them had been experts. Maggie was not. He started to speak.
Maggie interrupted, “Eat your breakfast. It’ll get cold.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Ed reached for the fork. He didn’t feel any more like eating than jumping from a twenty story building, but it was important to Maggie.
She plopped down on the chair across from him. He had other memories of her in that chair.
Speaking to him as if he were a cardboard image, she said, “We’ve got to get to the bottom of who had you beaten up. I’m sorry you suffered because of me. You’re free to leave now if you wish. In fact, I’d like that. But you’re probably too stubborn to do that.”
“Look who’s calling me stubborn.”
Maggie showed no sign of responding to his bait.
Ed reached for his coffee. She was more hurt than he had imagined. “You’re right. I’m not about to go anywhere, yet. As far as my suffering goes, I’ve been hurt worse when a horse kicked me in the knee. A couple days and I’ll be hobbling around okay. Another week and I should be as good as new.”
“I sure hope so; I want to get this resolved quickly.”
Maggie stood and paced back and forth while he ate. Ed was pleased to see some of the old fire returning to her body. She stopped three feet away from him. “Apparently some creep out there is very serious about taking over this land. We’ve got to find out who it is before anyone is hurt even worse. Could Con-Ex Farms be this ruthless?”
“Maybe.” Ed relaxed some as they turned to a common purpose. “I doubt they’re used to losing or having a woman stand up to them. How about Prater?”
“He’s twisted enough. He could be behind it all,” Maggie agreed, sitting back down in the chair. “Prater also mentioned a second party was interested in the farm. Never told me who.”
Ed hesitated, scowling. “You’re not going to like this thought, but what about your brother?”
“Brad?” Maggie squeaked with a start.
“Yeah, he’s got a lot to gain. Clearly, he doesn’t want you to hold onto the farm. And I don’t think he ever quite signed up for my fan club.”
Maggie shook her head rapidly. “No. We may have our differences, but he wouldn’t stoop that low.” She caught her breath. “Oddly, I might have considered him before our last conversation. I think he really wants to have a better relationship with me; part of that is because of the kids. But still…”
“Okay. I accept your opinion. Yet he strikes me as a very crafty guy, capable of concocting quite a story if he wants to.”
“There’s no doubt about that.” Maggie riffled her hands through her unkempt hair. “What do we do now?”
Ed tried not to notice how the simple action of running fingers through her hair lifted Maggie’s breasts in such an alluring manner. He wished those were his fingers entwined in that soft hair and that his lips were caressing those beading nipples. Whoa. In spite of what he might say to convince himself otherwise, he missed the feel of her under his body and of her fragrance filling all his senses.
“I’m thinking I’ll talk with Ben Templeton again,” Maggie said. “The insurance man is all over the area and has a good ear. It doesn’t look like the police are particularly helpful.”
“That seems clear. They just look at me as a drifter involved in a fight over a woman. The area would be better off if I disappear, was their thinly veiled message.” He paused. “So how does it feel to be the woman guys are busting bones over?”
“I wouldn’t trust Deputy Harris as far as I could throw him. He tried to break up Mason and me when we were juniors.” Shuddering, Maggie added, “He came on to me three months after Mason died. I told him about the facts of life.”
Ed chortled. “I’d liked to have seen that. So the Sheriff Department might have a vested interest in my taking a hike. Guess we can’t rely on them for much.”
“I don’t know about Sheriff Hampton. He always seemed fair enough, from a distance. I never had any dealings with him, but he’s one of the good ole boys. If a friend wanted you to move on, I’m not sure he’d get very worked up over a beating.”
“Maybe I’ll give Clint Travers a call,” Ed stretched, testing the recovery of his shoulder muscles. “He’s got a good nose for these kinds of things. Don’t remember if I told you he has a degree in criminal justice. He’s actually a partner in a Chicago based detective agency.”
“No! Really? I thought he kept busy buying, selling and trading horses. Sounds like he still spends a f
air amount of time in Utah. When can the man find time to be a detective?”
“I don’t think he does any of the actual leg work. He’s more of a silent partner.”
“That reminds me,” Maggie said. “Cassie will be coming down the middle of next week. With all that’s happened, I almost forgot. You remember we’re running Capote’s Dream in the Inaugural Stakes at Prairie Meadows Labor Day weekend. I’m looking forward to working with her at the track.”
“That’ll be great.” Ed grimaced, hesitating. “Sorry I haven’t been able to help you out there.”
“We knew from the start you wouldn’t be able to go to the track with me.” She stopped. “At least not until your name is cleared. There’s no way I’d be on the verge of a competitive racing stable without you. Apart from anything else between us, I think you know how grateful I am.”
Ed nodded. “The pain of not being with you on race day, to smell shedrow, to swap stories, to hear the announcer’s call, is a hundred times more severe than what those two goons inflicted on me with their fists.”
- o -
Maggie kept her gaze on the floor. Desperately, she wanted to stay angry at Ed until he left her and the farm. But she couldn’t do it. She had as much if not more to do with their personal difficulties than he did. Maybe she didn’t have to stay angry. Maybe she could just hold her emotions in check better. “I know being away from the track is tough on you,” Maggie responded meekly. “I hope and pray that the truth is found out, and soon.”
“Thanks.” Ed returned his empty coffee cup to the tray and stood awkwardly. “Okay tiger, let’s go get ‘em. We’ll win our share of the races, and we may even be able to foil a bad guy or two.”
Maggie slowly descended the loft stairs. Yes, races and bad guys, but what about us? What us? In his judgment, she was just as much banned from his life as were tracks and booze.
“Now, Maggie.”
“Don’t now Maggie me, Ben Templeton! My business is nobody else’s concern,” Maggie said, sitting on the edge of a cushioned chair across from the oak desk of her old family friend.
Ben held up his hand to silence her.
Grudgingly, she held her tongue.
“You know all about the character of rural communities, Maggie. You grew up here. You went to school here. Your roots are here. People are nosy. They talk. There’s a reason why our paper only comes out once a week. We don’t need a daily.”
Maggie groaned. What he was saying was true. She’d given the folks of Beaverhill more than a little to talk about lately. Unable to contain her curiosity, she leaned forward. “So what are they saying about me?”
“Don’t you have any friends, girl? Am I it?”
He looked uncomfortable. What was he holding back? “Mason and I were childhood sweethearts. There wasn’t a lot of room for many others. Most of our friends were his. Of course there’s Flo, though she’s usually too afraid to tell me what’s really happening because she doesn’t want to see me hurt. Dolly Thompson and I used to be close, but she thinks I should build a shrine to Mason and grieve for him the rest of my life.”
“Don’t do that, Maggie,” Ben said, staring at the picture on his desk of his deceased wife. “Whatever you do, don’t do that. Loneliness is a disease you never quite get comfortable with. I was an old man already by the time my Hazel died.” Ben coughed and rubbed his chin. “I didn’t want another partner. Looking back on it, I should have at least looked around. Sometimes life is too long without someone to share it with.”
Maggie nodded, feeling oddly uncomfortable about a man of his generation sharing such intimate information with her. Yet she was also honored that he cared enough to expose his own vulnerability.
Still, she wasn’t about to pursue his train of thought further. “So what are they saying about me?”
Ben fidgeted with a pen. “Well, some folks think you’re in way over your head. That it’s just a matter of time before you have to fold your cards and sell out like so many others have.”
“Uh, huh. That’s not surprising. What else?”
“Of course, everyone knows about Ed Harrington helping you out and living in the loft in your barn.”
Maggie slid back in the chair. Her legs stuck to the sticky vinyl and her feet failed to touch the floor. “So what do they say about him?”
“Again, nothing that would surprise you, I’m sure.” Ben steepled his fingers, eyeing her intently. “Most seem to think he’s taking advantage of you. Everyone knows of his history with the booze. Beyond that there are a lot of rumors about who he really is. A drifter. A cowboy from the west. A horse trainer. A con artist. You name it and it’s probably been mentioned. Naturally, your mother-in-law claims to be aghast from these rumors, but she also seems to be adept at promoting them.”
“No doubt. I never was quite good enough for her son. Okay,” Maggie said, clenching her hands tightly in her lap, “what else do these good citizens have to say?”
“Oh, some believe,” Ben peered over his glasses, “that Colt Magee’s daughter is finally showing her true colors, shacking up with the first stray tomcat that happens by.”
“Son of a bitch,” yelped Maggie, jumping from her chair. “What right do they have to judge? And we’re not shacking up.”
“Well, I suppose the only right has to do with their sense of being in the right.” Ben shook his head. “Maggie, I don’t care what you’re doing as long as you’re not setting yourself up to be hurt. But it doesn’t help any that you keep the fellow cloistered out at the farm.”
Maggie looked blankly at her friend. “What do you mean—cloistered at the farm?”
“It’s a lot easier to put horns on a person you don’t know than one you do know.”
“Hah, I seem to grow my own easily enough. And everybody knows me.”
Ben smiled. “Some of that is inherited. You may have thought your dad was loved by everyone, but his independent ways ticked off a lot of folks around here. Colt Magee was a man who never believed in the majority rule idea.”
“Guess you’re right about that,” Maggie conceded. “And I don’t imagine I do things the way the little wife and mother ought to do them. But Mason was never much into farming. And I’ve had to be a mother and a father these last two years. Frankly, I don’t care much about what people think of me. But I do care about how they treat my kids.”
“If you’re serious about keeping Harrington around, in whatever capacity, why not bring him out to a few of the social events? So people can meet him and learn that he’s not such a bad apple after all.”
Maggie gave the insurance man a crooked smile and sat back down. Five days had lapsed since her unsettling truce with Ed Harrington. Did she want to keep him in any capacity? A not-so-tiny voice screamed from a corner of her brain, Yes.
“So tell me, what do people really think is going on out there at the farm? Do they know about the horses, or do they think we spend all our time in the sack?”
She grinned when Ben coughed and sputtered.
“To be honest, since the county fair, there hasn’t been much doubt about whether the two of you are…ahem…intimate,” Ben said, his cheeks turning rosy.
“Boy, that’s a good one,” Maggie responded. They hadn’t made love until after the fair. “Goes to show you what the common consensus knows. What about the horses?”
“Folks can’t seem to figure it out, and it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve honored my pledge of secrecy. But it’s just a matter of time now. Because you have so few horses at the farm, people can’t believe you expect to generate sufficient income to live on from that enterprise. Of course, they don’t know about the horses you have stashed in Chicago. By the way, the next quarterly premium is about due on those animals.”
“And what about Ed being beaten to a pulp on the streets of this good town? Does anybody wonder about that? Do they give a damn?”
“Shock, mostly. That’s not something that’s supposed to happen in our small town. Most have co
ncluded that riffraff attract riffraff. Many are still concerned for your welfare, Maggie, but they don’t know how to reach out to you. They feel you’ve turned your back on them.”
“Me!” Maggie couldn’t believe her ears.
“If you want them to ever accept Ed Harrington, then you better start ushering him around and introducing him about.” Ben Templeton stared directly her. “That is, if you still plan on living here.”
“Of course I’m going to stay here,” she retorted. “What would ever lead you to think otherwise?”
“If you really succeed in the horse business, Maggie, won’t you outgrow little Beaverhill, Iowa? There are much more lucrative racing circuits than Prairie Meadows. And I’m told that you have one of the best trainers in the business with your man, Harrington.”
Maggie tried to think before responding. Ben was raising a question that had never crossed her mind. Of course, she would stay in Beaverhill. The whole thing with race horses was to save the farm, not to move beyond it.
She rubbed her nose thoughtfully. “You may have a point, Ben. I hadn’t thought about bringing Ed to social events. It just seemed right to focus on the horses, and Ed’s a private sort of guy anyway. But what about the sheriff—is he going to do anything about looking for the guys who beat up Ed? I’ve got the kids to worry about, too.”
Ben rolled his chair back from his desk. “I wouldn’t count on much help there. If you or your children were attacked, that would be a different matter all together. Even though people here may not understand you, you still are part of this community.”
“But not Ed.”
“No, not Ed. People don’t even know who he is. Maybe someone was settling an old score with him. The town wouldn’t want to make that their business.” Ben raised his palms upward. “Who knows who did it and why? Or who hired the guys to do the job? But I don’t think the sheriff’s office is going to bust a gut digging around for clues.”
Maggie’s brow furrowed with suspicion. “Does Con-Ex Farms own Sheriff Walker?”
Heat Wave (Riders Up) Page 18
