Betting on Hope

by Debra Clopton

  “But I’m supposed to compete.”

  His forehead crinkled beneath his hat as he considered her. “Who said competing was all about winning? I never said you’d win. But I never said you wouldn’t, either. So, relax, take a breath, and stop beating yourself up before you’ve even touched your horse.”

  She could not look away from the mixture of chastisement, challenge, and encouragement in his expression. How did he do that?

  The corner of his mouth slowly lifted and he nodded at the horse standing quietly beside him. “Are you ready to meet your horse?” He lifted one of his tanned hands and placed it on the horse’s neck.

  Maggie noticed the horse didn’t flinch, yank its head, or anything. It just stood there. “What’s this one’s name?”

  “This is Stardust. He’s a great horse and he’ll take good care of you over the coming weeks.”

  “Oh, is . . .” she paused. “He’s the one I’ll be riding? I thought maybe you’d have a little short one somewhere.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry. Stardust really isn’t all that big. He’s not as quick as some, so I feel like he’ll be a better ride for you than Crimson over there.”

  He nodded toward the horse she hadn’t noticed standing by the fence out in the arena. She tried not to hold her bruises against the horse.

  “Crimson is high strung, but he’s quick as lightning, greasy on his feet. Stardust is an eleven-year-old gelding who has won over twenty-thousand in the nonpro, nonprofessional, division. He’ll take care of you if you listen to me and never take your eyes off the calf.”

  “I assume that keeping my eyes on the calf must somehow keep me stuck to the saddle as the horse does its fancy footwork.”

  He chuckled again. “Yeah, something like that. Come closer. He won’t bite, I promise,” he added, and when Maggie remained rooted to the spot, he reached out and took her arm.

  The touch of his long fingers wrapped around her arm set alarms ringing. Sighing and stamping down her intimidation, she let him tug her over to stand beside Stardust.

  She felt dwarfed.

  “Just touch him, he won’t mind.”

  Tru’s voice softened as he bent slightly and spoke to her. She glanced at him, catching the glint of sunlight in his eyes. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

  “Come on, you can do it.”

  She yanked her gaze from Tru’s to the safety of the horse’s deep chocolate eyes.

  The horse was studying her.

  Maggie was so flustered by Tru that she lifted her hand and touched Stardust’s nose without any more hesitation. It felt surprisingly velvety and when she touched it, he crinkled it up slightly and dipped his head forward as if asking her to continue. She touched the soft hair between his eyes and then gently rubbed the swath of mane hanging from between his ears.

  “See, not so bad.”

  “He’s soft and he acts like he enjoys it.”

  Tru chuckled. “Oh, yeah, he’s a sucker for some lovin’.”

  Like an idiot, she met Tru’s gaze again; the cowboy was standing so close. Her heart tipped over the edge of a cliff, dangled there precariously. She hadn’t expected him to talk as if the horse were a person—it was sweet. She found herself looking at his lips and then found him staring at her. His eyes shadowed, and suddenly he stepped back as if yanked by a rope.

  “Okay, we got that out of the way.” He was curt. “So here’s how it will be. I can give you a couple of hours first thing in the morning. Then I’ll need my midmorning and afternoon for my own work. We may be able to get in a little time in the evenings. We’ll have to play it by ear. That’s all I can do right now. Maybe after I get this month behind me, we’ll have more time in the next month. But I’ve got deadlines to meet. You’ll have to do some practicing on your own once we get you on the horse.”

  She bristled at his tone. “That’s fine. I’ve got plenty to do myself.” It wasn’t as if she were any happier to be here than he was.

  “Good. Then, I’ll see you in the morning. Six-thirty.”

  “Six-thirty?”

  He shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

  “I was just clarifying is all. That’s perfectly fine with me. I need to go to town now and buy groceries.” More than ready to get out of there, she whirled away and stumbled over her feet—Tru’s strong hand grabbed her elbow and steadied her.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled and kept on walking. Tru was probably thinking she was going to fail miserably at this. Her pride stung a little thinking about it. But in truth, she’d bet he couldn’t teach her, so the less they worked, the more things went in her favor. But what would that prove? What would her readers think?

  She actually wished she was capable of riding, and riding well.

  Ha! That was a laugh and a half. God had not seen fit to give her what it was going to take to keep herself from being made a complete fool on this venture. She didn’t care if Tru was the miracle teacher that he thought himself to be. She didn’t have what it took to get it done. She’d overcome a lot in her life, but she still had no confidence in her athletic ability.

  And yet, there was that whisper inside that wished she were up for the challenge.

  Tru’s heart rate slowed with every step closer to the barn exit Maggie took. When only a dust trail was left from her car, he finally breathed. He spent the rest of the afternoon working five different horses. But though he tried to keep his eyes on the calf, he almost bit the dust several times while his mind kept roving to thoughts of Maggie.

  Lanky, with those endless legs that carried her with the grace of a dancer one moment, and then turned as gangly as a newborn foal at other times.

  The woman was gorgeous by most standards, but it was her cuteness that kicked him in the gut. She hadn’t even looked at him when she’d stumbled, not even when he’d steadied her. She’d just kept on going as if nothing had happened. Despite not wanting to find her intriguing, he did.

  She’d never been in a barn. Much less on a horse. And she was afraid of them. This was going to be a slow process if he didn’t find a way to get her comfortable with Stardust so they could move on from there.

  He was going to have to get her to trust the horse and him, in order to pull this off.

  And yet he didn’t trust her. He hadn’t always believed that, but it was working out all too well to give her the spotlight. And that was always what he came back around to.

  It wasn’t much to build any relationship on. Even if it was only a temporary working relationship.

  But the fact was they had to get her ready for competition and make his sponsors happy. And he figured her embarrassing herself on camera wasn’t what they were looking for. As far as they were concerned, right now, Maggie Hope’s ability was going to be a direct reflection of them, since he represented them.

  Tru’s only option was for Maggie to surpass expectations.

  Especially her own.

  His phone rang and he was glad for the distraction. He pulled it out of his pocket and hesitated a split second when he recognized his doctor’s number.

  He’d been waiting on this call. He pressed the button. “Dr. Jenson, how are you, sir?”

  “Tru, I’m good. Sorry it’s taken me this long to get back with you. So, what do you want to know?”

  “I understand because of the chemo that it’s a real gamble . . . but I’ve decided I want confirmation, positive or negative.”

  “It’s time.” Dr. Jenson was all about the facts. And saving lives. “I’ll put you down for this survivor infertility study. I’m glad you’ve agreed, Tru. Like I told you when you were a young teen and you and your parents came in for your yearly evaluation—knowing if you were infertile wasn’t what you needed then, but would one day be important to you at the right time to know. I’m glad you’re joining this study instead of just getting tested. Data saves others.”

  Tru knew that was what had helped save his life. Every time they learned something new, it could mean the difference in if someone w
on the battle or lost the battle. “I want to know the truth, and pay it forward at the same time.”

  They didn’t linger on the phone. Dr. Jenson told him he’d receive notification of when and where to report and then they hung up. The doctor had others to call, and not all the calls were good ones. Tru stood still for a moment and studied the horses in the far pasture. And he wondered . . . what kind of call would he get back after he’d done the test?

  8

  It was getting late as Maggie drove into Wishing Springs. This had been a long day of finishing up last details in Houston, then packing her car for the trip to town in the early afternoon. She hoped the quaint old town had a grocery store that stayed open past six.

  She stopped at the intersection with Main Street, but wasn’t sure which way to turn. Pressing the gas, she studied the shops as she drove through town. The main area had an array of businesses flanking the street. It looked like many small towns in Texas with a hair salon, a pharmacy, and a diner. She turned onto a side street and saw a law office and beside it, Burke Brothers Realty. And bingo, a little farther down, she spied the grocery store with several cars parked in the paved lot.

  “Yes,” she sang to her empty seats. “It’s still open.”

  She hurried inside and grabbed a buggy. For now, all she needed were a few basics. She was heading toward the fruit section when she spied a thin man, who looked to be in his late fifties, weaving down aisle two.

  The man carried a small grocery basket on his arm and was definitely weaving back and forth with unsteady steps. As she watched he stopped, bent forward, and stared at something on the middle shelf. He swayed forward, then tilted back. His hat, a jaunty little tweed number, sat crooked on his head. He tried to straighten it and instead hit it too hard, knocking it off. When he leaned down to pick it up, he stumbled and hit his head on the stack of canned goods.

  On impulse, Maggie headed that way. What was she doing? A glance around had shown no one had a view of the man but her—clearly he was in no shape to shop. How had he gotten to the store? How was he leaving? One thing was certain, if he was driving, she didn’t plan on letting him get behind the wheel. How she intended to stop him, she didn’t know. But she would.

  “Let me help you.” She crouched down to grab the cans that were rolling and strewn across the aisle.

  The man looked at her with bloodshot eyes, hazel eyes so pale that they almost appeared colorless with all the red obscuring them.

  “Th’k you, madam,” he slurred and he went to tip his hat, then realized it wasn’t on his head.

  She picked it up and handed it to him. He thanked her again, gave a crooked smile, and carefully, oh, so carefully, placed it on his head once more.

  “Mr. Radcliff.” A young man came around the corner. He wore a red shirt with the store logo on it and grimaced when he saw the mess.

  “He bumped the canned goods,” she explained, placing two more cans on the shelves.

  He sighed and shook his head. “Thanks. I’ll get this.”

  She stood. It really wasn’t her place. The drunk man gave that smile again and she didn’t know whether to pity him or be angry. She was both. After all people like this were dangers to society. It didn’t matter that he looked as harmless as a kitten. If he got behind the wheel, he was as deadly as they came.

  “Do, do you have a ride home, Mr. Radcliff?”

  “He’ll be fine,” the teen told her. “He lives two streets down, and always walks to the store. My boss called the sheriff’s office soon as he arrived, though. One of them will come and give him a ride home.”

  “Oh. That’s good.”

  “He’s not always like this.” The kid’s expression twisted in apology.

  Maggie was still wondering about that when an officer walked through the grocery store’s automatic doors and headed toward them.

  “Rand, come on. You’ve got to stop doing this,” he said, taking the grocery basket from the man’s arm. “Let’s get you home,” he said, and escorted the drunk from the store.

  Maggie watched the man go; a sad feeling enveloped her. This incident was far too close to the past she wanted so desperately to forget—everything lately seemed to be reminding her of her past. It was not welcome.

  Nothing good ever came from alcohol or drugs. It stole good people away and replaced them with shells . . . sad shadows of their former selves—or worse, replaced them with monsters.

  She sighed, pushed thoughts of her past aside, and focused on food and getting back to the cabin before dark.

  “She’s moving, Lana.” Jenna smiled. She loved it when her baby moved in her stomach. It was a reassurance that for now, they were together—a fact she would cherish every moment of. It also showed her that her baby was strong and that was good.

  Heart pounding, Jenna laid her fork on the plate of eggs and flattened her hand over her large stomach where she felt her baby move. Each time she felt her baby, it was as if the sun had just burst over the rise and into the sky while birds sang a chorus. It was as if morning had come fresh and new, and joyously, each time. Things were so much better here than they had ever been in Jenna’s entire life.

  Lana turned from the stove and smiled. “She’s a bundle of energy like her mom.” Kindness in her eyes turned to concern as she walked over and cocked her head to the side, studying Jenna. “Are the eggs still making you nauseated?”

  All the other girls had finished eating and left the kitchen. Jenna was having trouble getting anything down again. “A little,” Jena admitted, wanting to eat the eggs for her baby’s health.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. Let me take them.”

  From the moment Jenna had arrived over a week ago, Lana had been kind to her. Peg, her mother and the midwife at Over the Rainbow was kind too, but in a livelier way. Lana was gentle and there was something about her voice and the way she could look at Jenna that made Jenna’s heart ache. She was glad Lana was here now to share the moment with her when her baby moved. It was kind of like having a mother who cared. And Jenna always wondered what it would have been like to have a mother who cared like Lana. Or a grandmother like Peg. Or some of the older ladies who came out for game night.

  Jenna tried not to think of her mother. Dwelling on thoughts of her own lack of a loving mother did nothing to help her baby, and Jenna was convinced it even upset the baby. Lana had helped her focus on the positives of her actions. She’d taken control of her life and was showing her love for her unborn child by thinking good positive thoughts.

  Lana reached for the plate. “You keep the piece of toast and at least get a few bites down.”

  “I’ll try.” Keeping one hand on her stomach Jenna took the toast and took a bite, chewing slowly. She’d come this far for her baby, her hand tightened on her stomach and love surged through her. “I’m not going to let a little nausea get me down.”

  Lana patted her shoulder. “You’ve got some spunk, kid. And you’re keeping your eye on what’s good for your baby. I love that.”

  She’d eat because it was good for baby Hope. One of the first things they’d done when she’d arrived was an ultrasound, and Jenna had learned she was carrying a baby girl. She’d almost not given her baby a name because she knew she was going to give her up for adoption and she was too scared to let herself cross that line of actually naming her child.

  But she’d been unable to stop herself in the end. Maggie Hope, in the blue Volkswagen Bug, had picked her up on the side of the road, with her perfect blonde hair and smile and cool red high heels. Maggie had shown her kindness when Jenna had needed it most.

  When her baby’s life had depended on it.

  Because Jenna had been in a really bad way that afternoon. She’d needed someone, and she’d actually prayed that God would send her someone. She never prayed, never thought it did much good. But that afternoon, she’d prayed like she’d never prayed before, because this was about her baby. She knew that even if God didn’t care about her that maybe he’d care about her li
ttle baby. When that blue car sped her way, hope had sprung up in Jenna. And when it had passed her by, she’d crumbled, but then, it had whipped around and beautiful blonde Maggie had come to her rescue.

  It was as if God had sent her baby its very own angel.

  Jenna would never be able to forget what Maggie had done. Maggie had given her hope when she thought she had lost it all.

  Without even realizing it that day, her baby had become little Hope.

  Named for the beautiful woman who’d taken time out of her day to rescue them.

  Where had Maggie gone?

  Jenna took a bite of the toast and forced herself to swallow it. It made its way into her stomach and some of the queasiness stilled. Food, the sight of it, could make her want to upchuck and then once a little made its way in, she felt better.

  She took another bite and a breath. Lana smiled.

  “Better?”

  She nodded and voiced the question knotting in her chest. “Lana, do you think we’re going to find my Hope a wonderful family?”

  It was a question she’d asked that first day a little over a week ago. Lana had assured her that she would.

  “Honey, I promise, you keep poring through those files and praying about it and you’ll come up with just the right family for Hope.”

  Jenna sighed. Her heart squeezed tight like it was going to explode.

  She had to find them. She had to be strong and go through with her plan. Her baby needed more than she’d had.

  More than she could offer her.

  More than Jenna knew how to give her.

  After all, Jenna hadn’t been raised up with love and kindness; she didn’t want to take the chance of doing it wrong.

  And she was just a kid. No home . . . no job . . . no money.

  What good would that do her baby?

  Little Hope needed a chance to grow up and be . . . be like Maggie. The kind of person who radiated beauty and goodness and kindness.

  All the things Jenna wasn’t. She was a tough scrapper. Exactly what she didn’t want little Hope to have to be. It would be better if she had the opportunity to be a lady.