David winced. “He’s a hateful little creature.”
“He’s been a miracle for Kylan.” The soft declaration brought David up short. Before he could sort out an answer, Mary spun around. “I’ll go unhook the trailer.”
David would’ve watched her walk away—watched a little closer than he should—but Muddy wasn’t much interested in standing around admiring the scenery. He rammed his nose against the halter with all his might, nearly yanking David off his feet.
“I was hoping they’d taught you some manners,” he said.
Muddy gave him an eye roll, plowed through the open gate of the first stall, and spun around to glare at David, demanding that he take the halter off pronto. David did, then swung the gate shut and fetched a flake of hay. The metal trash can beside the haystack held oats, so he scooped up a coffee can full and dumped it into a bucket tied inside Muddy’s stall. The horse jammed his head clear to the bottom, stuffing his mouth as full as possible, then chewed furiously, oats drooling out the sides of his mouth.
Typical Muddy. So exactly the same, every obnoxious inch. David drew a deep, shaky breath. All the memories and feelings he’d been squashing for the past two days balled up to slam into him like a boulder. He folded his arms on the top of the gate, leaning heavily as he gazed upon the horse he’d never expected to see again.
“All this time I was worried sick, and you were living it up. Lounging around fat and sassy in your own private kingdom.” David’s vision blurred, and the knot in his throat swelled. “You sure didn’t miss me.”
Emotion got the best of him, welling up and threatening to dribble down his cheeks. He swiped an arm across his damp eyes. The hell with luck and karma and all that crap. He’d scrape up that five grand if he had to sell his soul, the rodeo gods be damned. He could not leave Muddy. Never again.
The scuff of footsteps on gravel alerted David to Mary’s return. He swiped at his face again and straightened—but not quick enough judging by the way she hesitated, poised on the threshold like she might turn and run from a grown man’s tears. Sunlight angled across the barn door, turning her spiky hair into a golden halo and highlighting the delicate angles of her face, softened by what might have been sympathy.
“It’s not just about the roping, is it?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head, dropping her chin to stare at the ground. “I figured for someone like you, a pro, a horse would be a…tool, I guess. What you need to get the job done. But the way you talk to him, touch him…it’s more than business, the way you feel about him.”
“Yeah. So?” David wasn’t sure whether to be offended or embarrassed.
“So…nothing. I didn’t realize, that’s all.” She squared her shoulders, met his eye. “Ready to go?”
No, but he doubted she’d let him roll out a sleeping bag in the haystack where he could keep a constant eye on Muddy. As he walked out of the barn, she retreated, keeping a sizable distance between them.
“I’m not going to attack you,” he said, irritated with her skittishness, the contrast between the softness he’d seen earlier with her students and friends and the brittleness he saw now.
She stopped, her pointed chin coming up. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“I’m not scared. You’re just very…um…” Her hands sketched out a large, squarish shape in the air.
“Harmless. I swear.” He raised his palms in the classic gesture of surrender, but the shadows that came into her eyes called him a liar. He couldn’t argue. Whether he intended to or not, he’d already wounded Kylan’s heart, and it was only going to get worse. He grimaced, correcting himself. “I would never hurt anyone on purpose.”
Her gaze traveled over him, but her eyes didn’t meet his. “You’re big enough to do some damage.”
Yeah. Sure. And that humiliating night at the bar, he’d had his butt kicked by a man less than half his size. “I’m usually not this cranky.”
“Me neither.” Her smile flickered like sunlight on water; then her expression went somber. “And you haven’t been all that cranky, considering. If it were me, in your place… Well, some shit would be flying.”
He shifted on his feet, not entirely proud of the way he’d behaved, especially with Kylan. “I’ll get my horse back one way or another, and I hate being a jerk.”
Her eyebrows went pointy. “Well, that’s refreshing. The world could use more people who don’t go around being assholes just for the fun of it.”
“I hear that,” he said, and their gazes got tangled up again, another zap of connection that had him taking a step forward.
Mary stepped back. “We should go.”
Yeah. They should. Before he gave in to the urge to keep moving closer. He didn’t try to strike up a conversation on the short drive back to town. What was that old saying? Keep your mouth shut and people will only think you’re an idiot. Open it, you’ll prove ’em right. Best to just let Mary assume.
But he wanted to talk to her. See more of the softness, that unexpected sense of humor, those mercurial smiles. She was so many things—soldier, teacher, surrogate mother, horsenapper. How did all those pieces fit into such a tight little bundle?
Frosty lifted his head and nickered as Mary pulled up beside David’s rig. The Stampede Grounds were once again deserted. David glanced at the dashboard clock. Quarter to six. Four hours to kill before dark. A solitary dinner of cold cuts on stale bread was all he had to look forward to.
“So…” Mary said.
Right. He pushed the door open and stepped out, once again at a loss for words. Big surprise. “I guess we’ll talk tomorrow?”
“I have training at the college for the next two days, eight ’til four. We have to implement a new set of national tests this year, and I got stuck on the work group. If…when…you decide what you’re gonna do, you have Yolanda’s number. She’ll take care of the arrangements.”
“I’d rather deal with you.”
Mary fixed her gaze on the center of the steering wheel. “Not much sense hiring an attorney if I don’t let her do her job.”
“That sounds like Yolanda talking.”
Mary remained stubbornly silent. David hung there for another long moment, his hand hooked on the top of the door, not wanting her to leave, no reason to keep her. Better to stay clear anyway. The closer he got to her and Kylan, the worse he’d feel about taking Muddy.
“I…um, thanks for the ride.”
She nodded. He forced himself to step back, shut the door, turn his back. He took three leaden steps before he heard her door open.
“David?”
He whipped around to face her, hope warring with apprehension. What would she hit him with now?
She tried a smile, uncertain as her voice. “I was wondering… I’m not in the mood to sit around the house alone. I thought I’d drive over to East Glacier, grab a sandwich, and go on up to Two Medicine.” Her teeth worked her bottom lip, nervous. “Do you…um, would you like to come along?”
Surprise played in his favor, silencing him for a beat so he didn’t sound quite so pathetically eager when he said, “Can I clean up first?”
Chapter 14
He found a dark-gray Henley stuffed in the back of the bottom drawer in his trailer, another winter holdover. It had shrunk in the wash and was a little snug, but the tight fit stretched most of the wrinkles out of the waffle knit. The cleanest of the dirty jeans in his laundry bag would have to do. At least they didn’t have calf manure on them.
Before dressing, he scrubbed the dirt off his face and neck and wetted his hair down to get rid of the worst of the hat head. His five-o’clock shadow was more like a blackout, but shaving would be too damn obvious, so he let it go.
He reached for his jacket, then realized he’d left it in Galen’s pickup. The afternoon was s
till warm, but he assumed it would cool off in a hurry when the sun started to drop. The only other coat suitable for evening temperatures was his contestant jacket from the ten days of torture known as his trip to the National Finals Rodeo. No question it was clean, since he’d shoved it clear to the back of the closet before he’d left Las Vegas and never taken it out again. Wearing it now felt both humiliating and boastful, but better than freezing.
Outside, he found Mary sitting on the fence with Frosty’s head in her lap, his eyes closed in ecstasy as she scratched behind his ears. She tossed David a smile that softened the angles of her face, warmed her eyes, the kind he’d seen her share with her students. “At least you have one nice horse.”
“Too nice.”
She cocked her head, questioning.
“Frosty doesn’t have a competitive bone in his body,” David said. “No killer instinct.”
“And Muddy definitely does.”
“In spades.”
She considered that and then nodded. “I can see how that would matter in a tie-down horse. They have to do an awful lot on their own.” She smoothed Frosty’s silky forelock. “He’s pretty good, though. Will you sell him now?”
“He’s not mine. And he’s not for sale. My uncle raised him, and my cousin Adam loves him to death.” And once Adam got attached, he wasn’t capable of letting go. David would never have dreamed of asking to borrow Frosty. The idea had no doubt been planted by his uncle, but the offer had been Adam’s. Sweet, empathetic Adam, who had agreed to let Frosty go because he didn’t want David to be sad anymore about losing Muddy. He’d been so proud, so determined, David couldn’t possibly say no. Even then, he’d had to temper his guilt by bringing Adam a fat, wriggly Labrador puppy to fill the void.
“How old is your cousin?” Mary asked as she climbed down from the fence.
“Thirty-two.” Forever going on nine years old.
Out on the highway, Mary made a right onto U.S. 2 to East Glacier. Once they’d climbed the hill out of Browning, rounded a curve, and were rolling straight toward the mountains, she grabbed her cell phone from the center console and offered it to David.
“Look up the Huckleberry Café in the contacts,” she said. “If we call in our order, we won’t have to stand around waiting.” He did as he was told, feeling weird about scrolling through the names listed under H, even if she didn’t seem to mind the invasion of her privacy.
“What’s on the menu?” he asked as he dialed the number for the café.
“Sandwiches, mostly. On homemade bread. I’m a fan of the smoked turkey and bacon with ranch sauce. And the huckleberry pie, of course.”
Since his mouth watered at the description, he ordered the same for himself. Then he stowed the phone in the console and tried to figure out what to do with his hands. He finally settled for clasping them together in his lap while he stared out the window at the rolling green hills, the jagged peaks. No wonder people came from all over the world to visit this place.
The silence began to play on his nerves, so he asked the least personal of the hundred questions whirling around in his head. “You teach special education?”
“Yes.”
He waited, but she didn’t elaborate.
“You like it?”
“Yes.”
So much for that conversation starter. He stared out at the scenery some more, imagining what it would be like to wake up every morning in that cabin on the hillside with that view right in his face. Cold, he decided, exposed to the west wind like it was. Must be a summer home.
“Is that what you always wanted to do? Teach?”
“I toyed around with a few other things, but I wanted to come home, and education is one of the few degrees that almost guarantees a person a job here.” At his questioning glance, she shrugged. “Hard to keep teachers on the reservation.”
Yeah, he supposed it would be, between the isolation, that interminable west wind, and the culture shock. “Sure is pretty.”
“We like it.” She shot him a curious glance. “Did you go to college?”
“Just a farrier program at a trade school.”
“Was there book work?” she asked, genuine interest sparking in her eyes.
“Some. Anatomy and stuff.”
“Oh.” She sighed, disappointed. “I guess that won’t work.”
“Thinking about taking up a new career?”
She snorted, flexing one arm. “Sure. I can see me propping up a horse. No. Kylan is interested, but anatomy…” She shook her head. “He struggles with book work.”
“He doesn’t have to go to a school. Someone could teach him. Like an apprenticeship.”
She nodded. “I thought about asking our horseshoer if Kylan could follow him around, but I don’t think he has the patience.”
“Some people aren’t cut out to be teachers.”
She tilted her head, eyeing him. “You are.”
“Me?” David said, taken aback. “Teach what?”
“Whatever you want. You’re good with kids.”
He tried to picture himself in a classroom and shook his head. “I don’t think they make sweater vests in my size.”
She gave another of those quicksilver laughs, amused with him, not at him, and he relaxed a little.
“You never wanted to do anything but rope?” she asked.
“Not that I can remember.”
“No backup plan?”
“The horseshoeing keeps us fed during the tough stretches. But otherwise…” He shook his head.
“Some people shoe horses for a living.”
“Not me.” He waved a hand down his body. “I have to fold up like an accordion to get underneath them, especially the small ones like Muddy. Plays hell with my back if I do more than half a dozen horses a week.”
That thoughtful pucker appeared between her eyebrows again. “You didn’t figure that out soon as you started?”
“Pretty much. But it was something I could do to fill in the gaps while I was on the rodeo trail.”
“What about the ranch?” she asked. “No plans to take over for your parents?”
He shook his head. “I’m second in line. My older sister and her husband are partners with my parents.”
“You don’t sound like you mind too much.”
“Not really.” He’d always liked not being tied down by expectations, but he hadn’t realized how spoiled he’d been, relying on his parents to be there to bail him out…until they couldn’t, thanks to the drought and his own poor choices.
“So you really are working without a net,” Mary said.
He slid a fingertip along the armrest, studied the results, and then rubbed off the dust on his jeans. “I thought it was better that way. All in, you know? No quitting when the going gets tough, because there’s nothing else.”
It had seemed like a good idea when he was eighteen. And until Muddy had disappeared, his rodeo career had gone pretty much as planned. Junior rodeo titles, high school titles, earning his pro card and qualifying for the Wilderness Circuit Finals at nineteen. Every goal ticked off his list right on schedule. Yeah, it took four years to break into the top tier, qualify for the Finals, but each of those years had been better than the one before. Success had felt inevitable.
Young, arrogant, oblivious. He wouldn’t mind being that clueless again.
“Well, it worked,” Mary said.
David blinked. “How’s that?”
“You’re still out there, entering up and staying afloat. Do you think you would be if you’d had an easier option?”
Yes. Of course. He wouldn’t have quit. Couldn’t. Could he? Then again, what if that job at the feed store had worked out? Paid a little better, been a little less monotonous…
At the thought of it, his entire soul shriveled in horror. No. That life wouldn’t be living at al
l. “There is no other option for me.”
“Well. I hope it works out, then.”
Yeah. Him too.
They rolled across a canyon deep enough to make David a tad queasy when he looked down, then rounded the curve into East Glacier. He’d barely noticed the town when he’d barreled through the day before, intent on reaching Browning as quick as possible. Plus, there wasn’t a lot to see.
The highway was also Main Street, with all of the businesses on the east side of the street. Motels on either end flanked a market that advertised hand-scooped ice cream cones. The cars parked out front had mostly out-of-state plates, and the people loitering along the sidewalk had tourist all but printed on their souvenir T-shirts.
On his right, David could see nothing but a railroad embankment, a freight train towing a long line of container cars rumbling well above their heads. The highway dipped, and Mary turned right into a tunnel under the tracks.
They emerged into a different world.
Directly ahead, a huge expanse of emerald-green lawn stretched to a wood-beamed hotel built like a massive chalet. The balconies were hung with pots of bright-colored flowers. Shirtless boys and bare-legged girls tossed a Frisbee around, while hikers dozed in the sun, using their packs as pillows. Mary slowed to let a golf cart cross in front of them.
“There’s a golf course?” David asked, amazed. All of this, so close to Browning and all of…that.
“Yep. You play?”
“No. You?”
“A few times a year.” She tossed him a smile that twinkled with mischief. “It’s a fun course, as long as you remember the bears have the right of way.”
Past the hotel was a haphazard string of restaurants, rental cabins, and houses. Mary wedged the big pickup into a cramped parking lot beside the Huckleberry Café. “Be right back.”
She was gone before David could dig out money for his dinner. He considered following, then sat back to take in the scenery instead. On the patio in front of the restaurant, a girl with greasy blond dreadlocks pounded her fist on a picnic table as she pontificated at a guy in high-tech nylon hiking gear, who seemed mildly amused by her fervor. Ten feet away, a silver-haired couple shared a piece of pie, looking like an L. L. Bean commercial in color-coordinated active wear. Only the waitress appeared to be Native.
Last Chance Rodeo Page 9
