Heat Wave (Riders Up)

by Adriana Kraft

  Half a dozen horses on R and R from the Chicago tracks also benefited from the more spacious stalls in the newly constructed building. The two-year-olds that Ed had been training during the summer and fall were now with Cassie; she would finish their gate training at the track. Maggie and Ed had not decided where the remaining horses would race. Certainly some would stay in the Chicago area, and she and Ed would race others at Prairie Meadows. No doubt some would shuttle back and forth, depending on purse sizes and race conditions.

  As Maggie walked toward the end of the stable, she was particularly pleased with the adjoining enclosed arena. There she would continue to learn the nuances of horse training even when it was cold outside. Ed had said that they would be able to work the horses fairly well until the outside temperature dropped below zero. At that point, horse, human, and tack could be too stiff and resistive to accomplish anything positive.

  Still, a lot of training would take place in the arena year around. Ed was even considering the idea of giving riding lessons to interested 4-H youth. He’d promised to teach Johnny, and a few additional students wouldn’t matter. She knew he believed that was one way he could help pay back a community that had reached out to him as well as to her. Did he realize how attached he’d become to the land and to their neighbors?

  As she finished making her rounds, Maggie noticed the too familiar white Con-Ex Farms van coming down the driveway. “Damn,” she cussed, “what a way to spoil a perfectly good day. What the hell does corporate America want now?”

  The van came to a stop only a few yards from where she stood. Taylor Fallon, dressed in his standard dark suit, stepped out of the vehicle.

  “Good morning, Ms. Anderson,” he said somewhat shyly, looking away from her glare. He glanced around at the spacious stable area. A lopsided, satisfied grin settled on his face. “Looks like you’ve done well with your new barn.”

  Maggie ignored the admiration in the man’s voice. “What can I do for you?” she asked abruptly. “As you can see, the land is still not for sale. And it never will be.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is or ever will be.”

  Why did Fallon seem so amused? Hadn’t he expected her to fold in front of his corporation’s demands?

  “If I may say so, you’ve got a lot of guts, ma’am. I respect and appreciate that.”

  Almost as if at attention, Maggie stood her ground, waiting for the man to state his business. Whatever he had on his mind, she wasn’t going to like.

  Fallon frowned. “I’m not here to give you a hard time. I just wanted you to know that while Con-Ex Farms was interested in purchasing your property, it isn’t anymore.”

  “Oh.” Maggie’s curiosity was piqued.

  “Nope.” Fallon paused and shifted his feet, his voice cracked. “We want you to know that Con-Ex Farms is not into beating up people, killing cats, or burning barns to make anyone sell what they don’t want to sell.”

  “You’re not?” Maggie swallowed.

  “Absolutely not. We might do things some folks in the local community don’t like. We do try to turn a profit as efficiently as we can. But we like to think we also help build the community up, giving it a better long run future by providing jobs and a healthier tax base.”

  “You don’t have to do a public relations job on me, Mr. Fallon.”

  The executive winced. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. We’ve helped communities with building and maintaining roads, with getting their products to market, with providing scholarships to kids interested in careers in agriculture.”

  “And you’ve also driven people out of their homes,” Maggie snorted. “Oh, I don’t mean deliberately,” she said, waving off his protest. “Still, they leave. For all the good you might do, you wreak a lot of havoc and ill feeling.”

  Maggie stopped speaking. Her hand flew to her mouth; she shook her head in disbelief. It couldn’t be, she shouted to her five senses. Her stomach shriveled in response. “Oh, my God,” she gasped. “You’re the donor. The hundred thousand dollars came from Con-Ex Farms.”

  Fallon blanched. Shaking his head, he started to speak.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Maggie said, hardly breathing.

  “Okay. So what if we did?” Fallon growled. “We don’t want to be brushed with the paint of criminals. And we hope we don’t do anything that incites others to do evil deeds.”

  “Do I detect a little guilt behind that goodwill?”

  “I won’t deny it.” Fallon pulled on his tie and loosened his collar. “I…we don’t like the way things have been going here in Beaverhill, and the way people point fingers at our corporation as if we’re responsible.”

  “But why didn’t you go public with your concerns and your donation? Broadcast to the world that you helped save Maggie Anderson from the jaws of humiliation and failure,” Maggie said, flailing her arms.

  “Now don’t get all riled up. We wanted to help quietly. You wouldn’t have accepted the money otherwise. And I understand you plan on paying the money back over time into high school scholarships. So everybody wins. And you’ve used the money well. This is a beautiful racing facility.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Maggie scuffed one booted toe across the other. She felt her cheeks heating. Looking up at the man who she’d thought was her nemesis, Maggie had a hard time saying what she knew needed to be said. “I guess I owe you an apology…and a thank you.” She paused. “So what can I do for you? You know I’m not going to sell.”

  “You’re welcome. And of course you won’t sell. I said we weren’t interested. But maybe you can do two or three things. First, don’t always assume that Con-Ex Farms is the bad guy. Second, don’t trust that banker, Prater, for anything. Third, hold open the possibility of selling me some shares in a racehorse.” Fallon flashed a brilliant smile. “And I’m a very happily married man, Ms. Anderson, or I might be looking for more. You are a remarkable woman; I hope Harrington appreciates what he’s getting.”

  “Well, thank you. I think.” Maggie wasn’t about to get into a discussion of Ed and what he was getting. Still, Fallon had said something that nagged at her. “We’ll keep you in mind regarding the horses. We may be interested in partnerships as we grow the stables.” She hesitated. “I’m curious. More than a little, actually. Do you know anything specific about Prater being behind our troubles?”

  Fallon should his head. “If I did, I would have said so,” he said grimly. “All I know is that your name causes him to go into tirades that border on insanity, at least from my point of view.”

  Maggie felt a chilling darkness creep through her veins. What had she ever done to send anyone into tirades bordering on insanity?

  Fallon opened the door to the van. Getting in, he said, “I’ll let you know if I hear anything specific, but I don’t expect to have much to do with the local banker. Let me know when you’re ready to sell a piece of a promising horse.” He grinned broadly. “Good luck, Ms. Anderson. With the farm, the horses, and with that hired man of yours. See you.”

  Every emotion imaginable raced for attention throughout Maggie’s body as she watched the Con-Ex Farms van pull out of her driveway. She wanted to be angry at Fallon, at Con-Ex Farms, at Ben for duping her about the money, but she couldn’t.

  Truthfully, she’d been awed by Fallon’s genuine concern. How much of him was behind the donation? And she was pleased that through her and Con-Ex Farms, a lot of local kids would get much needed assistance for college. He’d been right. In the long run, the money would be a good investment in the community. In the short run, that money made Anderson Stables more viable than it had ever been before. Biting her lower lip, Maggie admitted she was grateful.

  Maggie scowled and walked back into the barn thinking about Fallon’s advice regarding Prater. Obviously, the list of those possibly wanting to see her succumb to failure had been narrowed by one. Con-Ex Farms no longer belonged on that list. Who did that leave? Prater. McPherson, maybe. And a possible second party Prater had alluded to in th
e spring but never mentioned by name. Someone else or some other company interested in the Magee property. Would this assault over her land ever end?

  Maggie looked around the table and smiled easily. The Thanksgiving meal had never been better. Remains of turkey, mashed potatoes, yams, cranberries, cooked carrots, and homemade bread adorned the table while fresh pumpkin and cherry pies sat on the kitchen counter.

  “Maggie, everything is delicious. Again, thank you so much for including Gladys and me on this special day,” Ben Templeton said, lifting his wine glass in a salute to his hostess. The gray haired woman sitting beside him nodded her head in agreement.

  “We’re happy you could join us, Ben. Both of you. This Thanksgiving Day wouldn’t be nearly as filled with bounty if it hadn’t been for your help.”

  “Yeah, I sure didn’t know what I was getting you into when I referred you to Harrington,” Ben quipped. “I’m glad it worked out, though. I’m pleased as punch for the both of you.”

  Ed cleared his throat. He looked briefly from Ben to Maggie and then addressed Ben. “Well, I don’t hardly know where I might be if you hadn’t sent her to me. Expect I wouldn’t be eating turkey and all the trimmings. And I certainly wouldn’t have a family and my career. Doubt that the Illinois Racing Board would have found me, and if they had, they would never have wanted me back in the condition I was in.”

  “Now don’t go getting mushy on me, Harrington,” Ben cautioned. “I may have started the snowball, but you and Maggie, here, made the snowman.”

  “And snow-woman,” Maggie chuckled. “Still, Ben, you’ve been there for us throughout—with the community, after the fire…you’ve been a very loyal friend.” As her eyes glistened, she lifted her glass to make a toast. “To a dear man who listens to quirky females who can’t seem to ever get Iowa soil out from under their fingernails.”

  After sharing some wine, Ben countered, “To a young, spunky woman who still takes time to listen to the wisdom of the land. I’m real proud of you, girl. You know your dad and mom would be, too.”

  “Yeah, sis, I want to get in on this too,” Brad said, lifting his glass. “Ben’s right. Mom and Dad would be proud.” With a shaky voice, he added, “I am, too. Best of luck to both of you.”

  “Thanks,” Maggie mumbled. Her brother had shown up two days earlier. Her kids were thrilled at his arrival. And she had to confess he’d been very conciliatory. Several times he’d started to engage her in what she thought was an important conversation, only to have it fade away. They’d both agreed to let Ben process their insurance money without going through lawyers. Thank goodness for that. And thankfully, too, Brad and Ed had behaved civilly with each other. She couldn’t expect more than that.

  “Can I have some more turkey, Mom?” Johnny piped. “Before more speeches.”

  Everyone laughed except Johnny.

  Ed passed the boy the turkey platter while Maggie asked, “So what are you thankful for, Johnny? And how about you, Carolyn?”

  “Food,” Johnny blurted out. “And for the horses and Ed. And that we don’t have to move.”

  Maggie nodded and looked across at her daughter.

  Carolyn frowned. “There’s so much. All of what Johnny said, including the food.” She grinned. “Happiness. I think I’m most thankful for everyone being so happy. Even when things go bad, we seem to be able to find some happiness.”

  “So that’s different, huh?” Maggie pressed.

  Shrugging as only teenagers could, Carolyn responded, “I know you always wanted us to believe you were happy, Mom. But you couldn’t fool me.” Glancing around the table, she said, “This is good.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Maggie sighed. “This is good. May we always remember this moment.”

  With his mouth half stuffed with turkey, Johnny sputtered, “I’m not so sure everything is so great.”

  “So what’s your problem, son?” Ed asked.

  Johnny turned several shades of pink and shook his head.

  “Well?” Ed encouraged.

  “Kimberly Johnson thinks I’m too small,” the boy complained, his voice unsteady. “But she won’t leave me alone. One day she hates me and the next day she wants me to be her best friend. Go figure!”

  “Sounds like you got girl problems.”

  Johnny bobbed his head. “Yeah, big time.”

  Ed stroked his chin thoughtfully. Sending a knowing look at Maggie before returning his complete attention to the troubled boy, Ed said, “You’ll have to learn to have a lot of patience with girls, young man. They tend to be kind of flighty. Sometimes they do one thing and you think it means this, but it really means that.”

  Johnny nodded rapidly. His eyes widened. Maggie wondered if he’d be more impressed if the Wizard of Oz had just spoken.

  “Sometimes they want you to chase them,” Ed continued. “And sometimes they don’t. Seldom will they ever tell you straight out what they want. You’ll have to use your powers of observation.” Ed tapped his temple. “Patience is the word, son. Patience.”

  Johnny thought a moment. “Sounds like working with a skittish horse.”

  Chuckling, Ed replied, “You’re not far off on that, Johnny. Not far off at all.”

  Maggie tried not to laugh, but enough was enough. “Well, if you men are finished analyzing women as if they are mere horses, perhaps you would like to help clear the table so we can have desert.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Johnny replied meekly.

  As they stood, Maggie whispered in Ed’s ear, “Am I like a skittish horse, cowboy?”

  “You better believe it,” he whispered back. “Like a skittish, contrary broodmare. But you’re more than worth the time and effort.”

  “Look. There they go again,” Johnny shouted. “Mom’s kissing Ed again.”

  Not at all embarrassed, Ed pointed to the mistletoe hanging over the oak door frame between the dining room and the kitchen. “I hung the mistletoe myself. So you better watch out before the women start kissing you.”

  “Yuck!” Johnny exclaimed, rushing through the doorway.

  Maggie laughed. She couldn’t shake the tingly feelings that peppered her chest; she didn’t even want to try. Ed fit so well into her life, into her family’s life. Oh, there would be difficulties, those were expected. But she was confident that no matter what happened, their love was strong enough to carry them through the darkest of times.

  Counting her blessings, Maggie suddenly felt old. Perhaps the weight of brooding about the land, about the horses, about Ed, about her kids was finally catching up with her. She knew, without looking, that her skin was not wrinkled and there were no gray hairs.

  Shouldn’t she be feeling younger now because so much of that weight could be set aside? Maggie closed her eyes briefly. Had she become so accustomed to worrying that she just naturally worried? No, of course not—there was still somebody out there who wanted to destroy all that was hers.

  After she heard the soft snoring of her children, Maggie slipped into her robe, padded down the hallway and then down the stairs to Ed’s room. As she entered, his heavy breathing greeted her. Maggie smiled—he’d been unable to stay awake for her. Must have been all that turkey.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she leaned over to run her moist tongue across his upper lip. The stubble of his mustache tickled. He stirred. Her fingers played in the thatch of his chest hair. Moving to curl her tongue in and around his ear, Maggie edged her fingers lower across his abdomen, which was as taut as a skin on a kettle drum.

  Aware of his strained passiveness, she whispered, “Play possum as long as you want, cowboy. This woman isn’t skittish around wild beasts, asleep or awake.”

  Maggie traced his neck muscles with her lips, then chewed gently on his pebbled nipples. Back and forth between them she moved, leaving traces of wetness. Her fingers wrapped securely around his erection, squeezing and tugging.

  His muscles tensed. His hips moved upward almost imperceptibly. Maggie grinned and moved her hand deliberately b
ut cautiously, not wanting to bring things to a premature conclusion. His loins and hips tightened.

  Becoming suddenly still, she murmured, “Not yet, my love. Wait for me.”

  She kept her eyes open while swishing her tongue around his crown. He jerked. She caught him between her lips and swallowed him into her mouth, then bobbed several times as if dunking for apples. He strained for completion; she stopped.

  His eyes slit open when she abandoned him. Smiling dreamily, Maggie tugged her nightgown over her head and canted her body to straddle him.

  “Ah,” she mumbled to the silence. For a small eternity, she sat there letting his pulse resonate through her body from her center to her extremities.

  Then she moved—at first, simply swaying from side to side. Next, she rotated her lower body in small, tight circles. Maggie rocked leisurely back and forth on her knees. “Delicious,” she moaned, biting her lower lip. Her eyes remained closed.

  Her body coiled around his shaft. Her entire focus, her breathing, her movement centered on that single, simple point of intersection. Pulling on her own aching nipples, she rapidly levered up and down.

  Ed’s eyes popped wide open and his hips joined hers, propelling them toward completion.

  “Now. Now,” Maggie panted in rhythm with their movements.

  A humming throb burst within and Maggie felt first her release showering him and then his quickening, pulsating response. Like a hot air balloon severed from its tether lines, Maggie floated slowly out and above her body. A luscious light wrapped her in warmth and security.

  Collapsing to his chest, she savored the heat of her lover’s skin and his strong arms encircling her. “Hold me, please,” she whispered. “Don’t let me go.”

  “Don’t worry about that, lady. Not in this lifetime.”

  Maggie’s lungs filled as she savored his hoarsely spoken words. She drifted asleep atop of him, still joined at their center.

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