Willow Smoke (Riders Up Book 3)

by Adriana Kraft

  She didn’t flinch when he smiled and placed the chain around her neck and fastened the clasp. She tried not to tear up, but she did smile broadly and hugged Nick tightly. Was she behaving like a little girl? If so, so be it. This was a gift she would treasure forever.

  After Frank ran Nick’s credit card and took care of the business transaction, Nick and Daisy prepared to leave.

  Frank winked at Daisy. “You’ve got quite a man there, young lady. Take good care of him. In my book, he deserves it. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him and Tom Harrison.”

  “Can it, Frank,” Nick growled. “We’ve got to get going. Catch you next time, through.”

  “Will do, but I would have bled to death that night if you guys hadn’t stayed back to help.” Frank turned a warm smile on Daisy. “Hope to see you again, young lady.”

  “So what was that about?” Daisy asked, struggling to keep pace with Nick heading for the car.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got the time.”

  “I don’t. It happened long ago. In a faraway place. I don’t care to go back there. Okay?”

  Daisy registered the pain in his eyes and nodded. “Sure. That’s okay.” It was okay, but her curiosity was running on overdrive. Maybe Thelma would fill her in, or even Tom. She didn’t have to be too bright to assume that it had something to do with their time together in the army. And that her man had been courageous in the face of danger.

  - o -

  They drove until dark and stayed overnight at a motel in central Wisconsin. The next morning they had breakfast in the adjacent café. Nick peeked over the rim of his coffee cup at Daisy nibbling on scrambled eggs. She was typically so buoyant and robust in the morning, making him feel like he’d already lost a step or two. But this morning she behaved differently.

  There was a melancholy quality about her that he’d seldom witnessed before. Her eyelids drooped; her posture slumped, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. He smiled to himself. The clincher was that Daisy usually ate her breakfast like she’d been starved for a week, but this morning she played with it.

  “So what’s up?” he asked. “You out of sorts?”

  Daisy raised her eyes from her plate to meet his. The sadness in them tore at his heart. She shook her head in response.

  “Worried about your horses?”

  “It’s not that.” Daisy swallowed and looked back down at her eggs and bacon. “I guess I’ve never had a mountain top experience before.”

  Nick frowned.

  “I’ve heard others talk about going away on retreats or vacations and having such spectacular times that they had a hard time going back. I’d always thought that was so much bunk. But now I know they weren’t lying.”

  “But life goes on.”

  “Yes, but not like that night under the Northern Lights.”

  “No. That was a peak moment. But there will be other peak times. Maybe at the track. Maybe at your place or mine. Maybe back in northern Minnesota. Try as hard as we might, we can’t hold on to the moment. We can only remember it and look forward to the next one.”

  He watched her smoky eyes liquefy. “Damn, I sound like some old wise sage.”

  Daisy chuckled. “You’ve probably had many peak experiences. Sometimes I feel like such a novice at life.”

  “You’re doing great.” Nick reached across the small round table and stroked the back of her hand. “You have a lot of wisdom, too. That’s part of what makes us work—we’re both open to hearing the other’s wisdom.”

  “Sometimes you get pretty hard of hearing,” Daisy quipped, a small smile forming on her lips.

  Nick withdrew his hand, feigning pain. “Usually when you’re not willing to dream big enough.”

  “I’m not used to dreaming big.” Daisy lifted a coffee cup. “I normally dream about making it through the month with my bills paid, maybe about getting into the winner’s circle more often, or of having enough money set aside for taxes, and,” her voice faltered, “being part of a real family.”

  Daisy stopped talking. Nick watched her scatter pieces of egg across her plate. She’d just revealed more of herself than she had probably wanted to. Why couldn’t she trust him more? After all they’d shared, she was still reticent to talk about herself, as if she were afraid of his censure.

  He remembered the tattered riding pants Cassie had shown him. Daisy had conquered a lot in her short life. That should be a source of pride, not shame.

  “Do you see much of your sister?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten her name. You’ve only mentioned her once or twice.”

  Daisy flushed. “Her name is Maxine. She’s my half sister; we had the same mother.” She put her fork down and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “It depends. Sometimes I see her once a week, and then it might be a month until I see her again.”

  “So what does she do for a living?”

  “She’s a waitress.”

  “And her husband?”

  Daisy frowned.

  “I vaguely remember you saying she got married while you were still at the group home.”

  “He does odd jobs,” she lowered her eyes, “and is currently laid off.”

  “Oh.”

  “Can’t we talk about something else?” Daisy said, balling up her napkin. “I don’t think my sister and her husband can be of much interest to you.”

  “No problem.” Nick kept his voice even. She was withholding. What and why made him curious. But he wasn’t about to press her. Cassie Travers had been less than pleased with Daisy’s family, but that didn’t mean Daisy didn’t love them or that they weren’t important to her. He’d tread lightly, but at some point he’d have to find out more about them.

  He watched Daisy drift back into her own thoughts. What had his sister called her? Waif-like. Well, at the moment that was an apt description. Daisy must believe she was an unlikely Cinderella waiting for the clock to strike twelve.

  But didn’t she know the whole story? It was only Cinderella’s foot that fit the glass slipper. And it was only Daisy who could win his heart as she already had.

  It would take time. But in the end, he would win her over to his way of thinking. He expected her heart was already there or very close, but her head was an entirely different matter. He’d tread gingerly, but he’d not let up. Not now; not ever.

  - o -

  Daisy scowled at the offensive cold bacon. It wouldn’t be cold if she’d eaten it when she should have. But Nick’s probing had been so disconcerting.

  Why did he have to go and spoil things? Oh, he saw a longer future for them than she did. But even what he saw remained unclear. Certainly, he couldn’t be thinking marriage. And she wasn’t convinced she wanted to be anybody’s mistress.

  They were fine just the way they were. Lovers. He had his place and she had hers. Funny, she’d never even seen his place. She’d met his family, but didn’t know where he lived.

  That was okay. That was his secret. Her family and her family’s history was her secret. He didn’t need to know, and if he ever did find out, then she wouldn’t have a lover or a horse partnership. No, things were okay the way they were. In fact, what they had was far more than she’d ever expected, and probably far more than she even deserved.

  Her upper lip curved slightly. Nick Underwood was her Prince Charming. He’d brought adventure to her life in ways she’d never allowed herself to dream about. They would be buying some more horses shortly. Her career as a trainer was about to take off. And she had a man in her life. Daisy felt herself warm. She had a lover and wasn’t ready to let him go.

  She’d have to work doubly hard to keep her two worlds separate: the exhilarating dance with Nick and the seamy side with Reggie and Maxine. She could do that, if no one pressured her more.

  She peeked quickly over at Nick and then away from his inquiring eyes. Would he be satisfied with what they currently shared? She wasn’t certain. Reggie and Maxine were another matter. They’d n
ever be satisfied.

  Why did she feel like a street urchin waiting for her fantasy life to go poof like so much smoke? Willow Smoke, he’d called her.

  Maybe she was like willow smoke, waiting for the wind to change and blow her away. Tears formed in her eyes. She shook her head, refusing to let them be seen. Why couldn’t she even permit herself to hope and dream?

  She dreaded going back to her apartment.

  “Maxine! What happened to you?” Daisy’s heart palpitated wildly. She threw an arm around her sister and assisted her to the loveseat.

  The shorter woman walked with a limp. After flopping down on the couch, she looked at Daisy through one squinted eye. The other eyelid was closed shut, laced with yellow, purple and black hues.

  Daisy sat beside her on the edge of the loveseat. “Tell me what happened. Did he hit you?” Her fingers balled into fists.

  “No,” Maxine snorted. “I fell into a door.”

  “Bullshit, I’m not some little snot-nosed kid anymore. I know what I see. Boy, if I could get my hands on him right now, I’d throttle him.”

  “No. You don’t understand. Reggie loves me. He doesn’t want to hurt me.” She lifted a hand to her face. “This isn’t as bad as it looks. He was high.”

  “When the hell isn’t he?”

  “He’s been having a hard time of it lately. He can’t get steady work, and the cops are sniffing around again. They never leave him alone.”

  Daisy frowned. At least there was some hope. “Why do you stay with him?” Maxine recoiled. It was a dumb question.

  “I love him.” Maxine tried to smile, but even that effort appeared painful. “Maybe someday you’ll understand. But you got to find somebody to love first.”

  “And then I’ll be happy being a punching bag?” Daisy rose to her feet, distressed with her impatience. “So what happens now?”

  “I’ll be all right. He’ll make it up to me.”

  Daisy didn’t want to ask how he might accomplish that.

  “Every couple fights now and then, Daisy. You need more experience with men to know what I’m talking about. But if there were no fights, there wouldn’t be any making up.”

  Her sister’s crooked smile turned Daisy’s stomach. Was there any hope for the woman? Not as long as she was strung out on drugs; not as long as she remained under Reggie’s thumb. “You could kick the habit, Maxine. I’d pay for it.”

  Maxine gave Daisy a horrified look, as if she were listening to an alien.

  “I’d stand by you to support you.”

  “Right,” Maxine responded bitterly. “Goody-two-shoes would hold my hand and kiss my ass while I heave up my guts and shake to death.”

  Her sister’s features softened. “It’s okay, baby. I know you care. And I love you, too.” Maxine brushed a curl from her brow. “But I can’t do what you want. I don’t think you really know what you’re asking. It’s not so bad. If we could just get ahead so we wouldn’t have to move again, and if the cops would leave us alone. We’re not bothering anybody. Not really.”

  “Good grief, Maxine, Reggie sells drugs. He beats on you whenever he’s in the mood. That’s not bothering anybody?”

  Maxine clasped her hands at her waist. “He doesn’t sell to nobody who doesn’t want to buy. He doesn’t make anybody buy.”

  Daisy closed her eyes. There was no use telling her sister that some of her husband’s buyers were likely kids who were just trying to be cool.

  “And he beats me because he loves me. He can’t help himself. You don’t understand,” Maxine wailed. “You don’t even try.”

  “All right. All right, we’re not getting anywhere going down this road. We never do. So what else is happening?”

  “Work is slow. With the layoff at the factory, we’re getting fewer customers in the diner and smaller tips.”

  Daisy blew air from compressed lips. “Okay, so how much do you need?”

  “What?”

  “How much money, Maxine?” Daisy crossed her legs at the ankles. “How much do you want this time?”

  “Could you spare three hundred?” Her voice was hoarse.

  Daisy listened to her sister cough, possibly covering embarrassment. “You might save a lot of money by cutting out the cigarettes.”

  “I know. I try from time to time. It’s hard, but you wouldn’t understand that either.”

  “I’ll have to write you a check. I can’t get that much out of an ATM.” Daisy rubbed her temples. When would that splitting headache let up? “When is this going to end, Maxine? How is it going to end?”

  Maxine’s eyes rounded. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know. I wish I did.” She started to sob. At first, her sobs were soft and then they began to wrack her entire body.

  Daisy slipped an arm around her sister and held her tight. They both sobbed. This might be the first time in years that she and her sister had genuinely communicated.

  After what seemed like minutes, Maxine whispered, “So tell me about your man. He looked so handsome in the newspaper. But he looked pretty old.”

  Daisy laughed softly. “He’s older, but he’s a gentle man. He’s...” Daisy caught herself. She wasn’t about to share much information about Nick with her sister.

  She might have shared a few tears with her on the couch, but that didn’t mean she could trust Maxine not to blab everything to Reggie. “He’s a nice man for the time being, but I don’t expect it to last much longer.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Maxine replied, placing a comforting hand on Daisy’s. “He doesn’t look like he’d have much in common with us.”

  Stiffening, Daisy tried to calm her irritation. “We have horses in common, that’s enough.”

  “Yes, I suppose. I still don’t know how you’re able to work with those beasts, but that’s not news.” Maxine hesitated. “Well, if you’ll write that check, I’d best be going. Reggie gets antsy if I’m gone too long.”

  “What would it ever take for you to call the cops on him?”

  Maxine moved gingerly to stand and laughed. “You got to be kidding, baby. You don’t turn on the man you love. Not for nothin’.”

  Daisy wrote the check at her makeshift dining room desk. She clinched her upper body to slow the shivering. How would Nick ever understand this world? She’d been raised in it and still couldn’t fathom how her mother had accepted her lot in life, or how her sister was managing hers.

  She stared at the check. Their grandmother had been so emphatic about blood being thicker than water, but did that mean Daisy had to allow her sister and brother-in-law to suck her dry?

  - o -

  Tom Harrison clapped his hands. “So you got her working with wood? That’s good.” He admired the diamond willow stick Daisy was carving.

  She sat on a straight-back chair in the mold room with the willow stick in her hands. She’d already peeled half its bark and was digging at the grooves of a troublesome knot. Several shades of reddish brown were already evident.

  Daisy smiled at the tall black man. “I think your job is safe. This is a lot of painstaking work.”

  “It takes getting used to. But I can tell you have a good ear for wood.”

  She looked up, inquiring.

  “You don’t hack at the wood. You’re letting the wood guide you. How far or how deep to peel or dig. Which grain to highlight and which to let be. It’s all in the manner of listening. Some people have a good ear for music. Some have a good ear for animals. Some have a good ear for wood.”

  “Daisy’s got a good ear for horses, that’s for sure,” Nick interjected, stepping over from where he’d been examining work on the frame for a new canoe. “And you may be right. It looks like she can listen to wood pretty good, too.”

  “So how do you like mosquitoes, Daisy? Do you understand why they’re Minnesota’s state bird?”

  “I could do without another mosquito for a few weeks,” Daisy said, idly rubbing old bites on her arm. “Though sometimes I think the worst part about them is the bug s
pray.”

  “What you gonna do with the stick when you’re done with it?” Tom asked, rubbing a finger over a carved section. “This will sand out real nice. Some folks don’t want to sand—they think it looks better rough. I’m partial to sanding. How about you?”

  A smile tugged at Daisy’s lips. “I’ll try sanding this one and then I’ll have something to compare a rough-carved one to. I sure do like how your sanded canoe strips turn out. The one we took to the Boundary Waters was even more beautiful in the water than sitting here. The first time I sat in it I felt the kind of awe I feel when I sit in a church pew. Not that I’ve sat in one of those often.”

  “Maybe that’s why it’s still awe inspiring. You didn’t say what you plan on doing with it?” Tom pointed. “The stick.”

  Daisy shrugged. “Probably put it in the corner of my living room for decoration. Don’t think I need a walking stick yet.”

  Tom sneaked a peek at Nick.

  “Don’t even think about going there,” Nick growled.

  Chapter Ten

  “How’s MrShowman coming along? Haven’t had time to get out to the track this week to see him.”

  “I know.” Daisy curled her toes in the Lake Michigan beach sand where she and Nick had shared their picnic lunch. Their recent claiming horse had looked quite good in his early morning workouts.

  She didn’t plan to tell Nick she’d appreciated the breather his business trip had provided. While she liked Nick a lot, she valued her space and her privacy.

  Sometimes he could be too overpowering and, well, just too present. “MrShowman is training quite nicely. We’ll try him in a Starter’s Allowance or an Optional Claimer in the next week or two. Preferably on the grass.”

  “At a route, right?”

  “That’s the plan.” Daisy sucked in a deep breath of cool air. “I like it here by the lake,” she said, staring off across the expansive body of water. The sand dune point on which they sat was protected from the westerly breeze. Remnants of their lunch still lay scattered on the blanket. A few late hanging-on ants were having a feast.