He’d learned how key the team’s connection was, finding the right partner for the horse and the rider. It was a damn personal thing. He took it seriously and, as a result, had earned a reputation as a quality trainer.
“Seems fitting, with your nickname and all. I remember you hanging out at the corrals in boots too big and a hat down over your ears, clicking at our horses. Always amazed me to see how they took to you, you being so little and all.” She nodded.
He didn’t mean to stare, but he’d never expected to hear flattery in any form from Evelyn Boone.
Her brows rose. “Well, I’m glad the Sanchez family is giving you work—”
“I’ve been on my own for a while, going from ranch to ranch and working with the horses and handlers.” Being on the road had given him the freedom to work all over. Besides, he didn’t have the facilities the Sanchez family had. Hell, he barely had a pot to piss in.
But now... He could do it right now, thanks to Lynnie. The idea blossomed, his mind already mapping how he’d set the place up. Possibly.
“Beautiful baby girl,” she said, nodding at Pearl and Tandy on the dance floor.
He followed her gaze. Tandy was smiling, holding one of Pearl’s hands as she rocked his daughter to the beat of the music. Pearl’s giggle flooded Click with relief. His daughter was happy. Granted, she was in Tandy’s arms...
He nodded. At times he wondered why he’d been given something so delicate and beautiful to care for. Hard work was in his blood. Dealing with challenges and risks had become second nature. But chasing after something so tiny, so fragile, made him downright nervous. Pearl had already slipped off the bed once, landing on her back instead of her feet. He’d held his breath as he scooped her up, terrified she was hurt.
“Ow,” she’d announced, frowning.
“You okay?” he’d asked, running his hands over her back and arms.
She nodded. “Ow.”
“Yes, ma’am, big ow.” He’d stared into those big light brown eyes and taken a breath.
She’d smiled, clapped her hands and run off as soon as he’d put her on her two feet. So not as fragile as he thought—but not as sturdy as he was used to.
“Good to see a man smitten with his daughter,” Evelyn said, placing her hand on his arm. “Shows he has a good heart.”
He glanced at the woman. There was more to her words, there had to be. Unless this cordiality and interest was on her husband’s behalf? Surely Woodrow had told her about his hope to buy Lynnie’s land now that Lynnie was no longer around to fight for it. Damn, the whole town was probably waiting to see how this would play out. The Wallace-Boone feud had provided years of steady entertainment. Lynnie’s land, who would get it, what they’d do with it, could be a game changer.
And this time, he was the one holding all the cards.
The music came to an end and Click made his escape, offering a murmured excuse and a tip of the hat as he made his way back to his table.
“Da da,” Pearl said, smiling up at him.
“Hey, Pearl.” He knelt on the floor beside her. “I saw you dancing with Tandy. You like dancing?”
She nodded, rocking back and forth, clapping her hands and giggling.
“That’s right, dancing.” He smiled, clapping his hands in time with her.
“Saw my mom sweet-talking you,” Scarlett said from her seat at the table.
“She was?” Click arched a brow at Scarlett. “I thought she was just talking.”
“Exactly,” Scarlett said. “When has she ever talked to you before tonight?”
He shook his head. Point made. He was suspicious. Still, he’d like to think the past could be left in the past. Since he’d left Fire Gorge, his goal had been to make something of himself. If Woodrow Boone and Tandy’s mother, Susan, objected because he was the no-count son of a drunkard truck driver and a woman with loose morals, he’d be better than that.
In time, he’d realized the only person he needed to prove himself to was himself. And he’d done that, for the most part. He’d lived life with enough sense to keep his head and keep his regrets at a minimum.
“Ta-dee,” Pearl called, reaching out for Tandy.
Tandy sat on the ground, rubbing Banshee’s back. She smiled as Pearl climbed into her lap. “What’s up, cuddle bunny?” Tandy asked. Her gentle smile gripped Click’s heart with fierce longing.
This is what he regretted. Tandy. He didn’t regret how he dived in and lost himself in loving her. He didn’t regret the time they’d had together, the plans they’d talked about or the vow he’d made to be hers forever. He regretted he’d let her go. That he hadn’t fought harder. That even now, he could picture how good life could be for them.
“She was never nice about your mother. Or your father.” Renata interrupted his thoughts, steering him back to Evelyn Boone and the flare of self-doubt these people still managed to stir. Dammit all.
“Guess I was hoping enough time had passed that people would stop looking at me and seeing my father.” He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, not really.
Tandy’s hazel-green eyes found his. “What they think doesn’t matter. You know that. You’ve lived life without their approval. Don’t let them change that now.” She nodded at his daughter. “You’ve been blessed, Click.”
His nod was stiff, the thrum of his heart accelerating at the intensity in her gaze. He’d spent hours learning how to read those green eyes. Hours of talking, hours of exploring, hours of loving. He’d known every light crease her smile caused, how expressive the sweep of her brow was, the mesmerizing flare of her hunger and pure bliss of her release. He’d seen the world in her eyes. And wanted that again.
Her gaze fell from his. “I should head out,” Tandy said, offering him Pearl.
“You’re really going to sleep out there?” Renata asked.
“That’s the plan.” Tandy’s tone was tense—so was her posture.
“Since you’ve got Banshee watching over you, I think I’ll stay here with the reliable electricity and warm water.” Renata grinned.
“I have warm water,” Tandy argued. “Warmish.”
“Ta-dee?” Pearl asked, smiling and waving.
“Tandy is going night-night,” she said, waving back. “Is night-night right?” she asked, barely glancing at him.
“It works. Still figuring things out,” he admitted. He didn’t know what Georgia called things. Her note had provided him with the minimal instructions. Things like what words Pearl knew, her bedtime routine and her favorite toys weren’t included.
Tandy was looking at him then. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. She had questions. If she asked, he might just answer them. One look told him she wouldn’t. Her attempt to keep him at arm’s length was being challenged by his daughter. Whatever courtesy or interest she was extending him was based on shared childhood memories and his precious daughter. Thinking anything else would only cause him heartache.
“It’s getting late,” he agreed, shifting Pearl to his hip. “We should head out, too. Walk you out?”
Tandy nodded, smiling her goodbyes at Scarlett and Renata.
The walk from the event hall to the gravel-covered parking lot was fairly quiet. Pearl hummed softly against his chest, her body relaxing against him. She’d be asleep before they made it home.
Tandy kept glancing his way. Every time, he waited, knowing she’d have at least a hundred questions for him. This resistance was new. Before, she’d speak her mind. But, unlike Renata, she was gentle about it. Tandy had always looked beyond the answers to the heart of the matter. She’d always done that with him—been careful with his heart. She’d known how battered and bruised it was.
When her gaze darted his way again, he said, “All you have to do is ask.”
She sighed. “It’s not my place, Click.”
He stopped, looking at her. It took
everything he had not to set her straight. Damn her stubbornness. No matter what had happened, she knew him best. How could she doubt that his feelings for her had changed? No, he didn’t want people drilling him for information. But she was different, always would be. Whether he wished he could change it or not.
“Losing Lynnie’s been...hard.” He broke off. She knew how important Lynnie was to him, how healing the older woman had been to his spirits.
Her eyes shone with sympathy. They’d shared that, too, their love of his great-aunt.
Burdening her with the rest of his situation was wrong. He had no right to do that to her, knowing how big her heart was. This was his problem, his life, one she’d assured him she would never want to be a part of. Somehow the words slipped out anyway, “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
Chapter Eight
Click Hale was a rock. She remembered the first time she’d met him. She’d been wandering through Lynnie’s property, hiding from Uncle Woodrow and the constant chaos of the ranch. The barn dog’s puppies had trailed after her, keeping her company. She’d been singing, loudly, when she’d stumbled upon a boy.
A beautiful boy with the biggest, saddest eyes she’d ever seen. The bruises said what he wouldn’t. He’d stood there, defensive, glaring at her. But she understood immediately—he was alone and scared. And she had to fix it.
“I’m Tandy,” she’d said, smiling her best smile.
“Click,” he’d muttered, still braced.
“Click?”
“You know. How you talk to horses?” He’d demonstrated, clicking a few times.
She nodded. “I like it.” She’d stuck her hand out, waiting for him to take it, then shook his with real enthusiasm. She’d offered him a puppy, hoping to chase away whatever monsters he was hiding from. Tandy had watched his wariness and anger slowly melt away. In its place was a smile that stole Tandy’s heart.
Looking at Click Hale now, she saw the same damn thing.
Sure, he was proud, strong and capable. But he was also terrified. And alone. Traces of the wounded boy were all too evident. And the hole where her heart should have been throbbed. It would be best to help him pack Pearl into his truck and drive away. She was barely managing on her own. Why put herself in a position that threatened that? Helping Click and Pearl was a risk. The sort of risk that could inevitably drag their history out into the open and tear her wounds wide.
He cleared his throat. “I’m figuring it out.” But his words were a damn lie.
His attempt to reassure her chipped at the walls she’d built to keep him—hurt—out. It wasn’t in her to turn her back on him. On anyone hurting. “Wanna go for a walk with me?” she managed.
He stared at her, the corners of his mouth turning up slowly. “I’d like that.”
She nodded, glancing back at the ranch. “Maybe not here?” There was no sign of her aunt or uncle, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. While she had a hard time believing they were still patrolling her love life, there was no doubt they were curious about what she and Click were up to. And Click Hale as a whole.
He nodded, glancing back with a shake of his head. “See you in a bit.”
She followed Click’s beat-up truck down the dirt road, bouncing through ruts and dodging a few cows that had wandered onto the roads. A roadrunner darted out into the beam of her headlamps. Tandy slammed on the breaks and Banshee leaned out the truck window, barking frantically. “You can find him tomorrow,” she said, patting the dog’s back.
Banshee sat back, as if he agreed with the idea.
They drove on, turning off on their drive and bouncing along the road. It was overgrown, left too long untended. If her uncle was agreeable, she’d look into borrowing the tractor and the box blade to plane the surface. A bump or dip here or there was one thing, but this was ridiculous. And her truck shocks might last a bit longer.
Once she’d parked, she and Banshee made their way inside. Banshee sniffed around, always on alert. She appreciated that. Banshee was fearless when it came to protecting his herd. Anatolian shepherds were wired that way. What made Banshee such a good companion was his easy nature. Not all Anatolians were so accepting of new places and people.
“Nothing?” she asked when he sat at her feet, staring up at her.
He sniffed.
“Hungry?” she asked, opening the pantry. Banshee was a big dog, weighing in over 120 pounds and tall enough to put his paws on Click’s shoulders when he stood on his back legs. His massive bag of food took up more than half of her small pantry. She balanced his large food bowl with one hand, carrying a pitcher of water in the other, and pushed through the back door. Once Banshee was settled, she paced the creaking wooden porch. Try as she might, she kept glancing at Lynnie’s house.
Tonight would be the exception to the rule. She would not get tangled up in his problems. Or lose her head over Pearl. She had her own life now.
No matter what Woodrow had said, she was going by the clinic tomorrow. She’d rather have time to scope out her place of employment before the patients started arriving. From the few emails they’d exchanged, she knew Dr. Edwards also had a mobile unit he took out to the local ranches. If there was an animal within one hundred miles, Dr. Edwards was responsible for them. Another reason Tandy had been agreeable to the position.
She’d worked at the veterinary teaching hospital in Stonewall Crossing just long enough to discover how diverse the job could be. Her love of animals was ingrained. She’d been ten when she’d set up her own makeshift animal hospital in the deserted turkey shed at home. Her mother and aunts rarely ventured out on their Montana property, so she and her brother had spent most of their waking hours outdoors. Collecting animals, giving them all the love and affection she longed to shower on someone, eased her loneliness.
While at the veterinary hospital she’d dealt with emus, bobcats, dogs and cats, horses and cows, as well as a giraffe, a lion cub and several reptiles. She’d liked the fast pace, liked to stay busy, but was ready for the next step. And since her grades continued to put her on the wait list for admission into the veterinary school, she hadn’t been sure what the next step was. Until the job offer in Fort Kyle came in. Starting over someplace familiar, being close to Lynnie and Scarlett, made the decision easy. Fort Kyle’s clients might not be quite as varied, but her experience had prepared her for pretty much anything.
Well, in the workplace.
Life outside of work was still a challenge. She glanced at Lynnie’s house again. Obviously.
Two years and three weeks had passed since... She couldn’t think it. Couldn’t go there. Because nothing had changed. Not on the inside. Every day she got out of bed, got dressed, went through the motions and fought back the crippling grief that threatened to drown her. It was like moving through cement, weighing her down, pressing in on her until breathing was a chore.
How could she let go? How could she move on? She’d lost her daughter that day. But she’d lost herself, as well.
Banshee sat up, staring off into the dark, his ears perked up and his tail rigid. She stared into the darkness, the opposite direction of Lynnie’s place. Banshee’s keen senses were picking up on something her human eyes couldn’t. Whatever it was, he was on high alert.
Her phone vibrated, making her jump. She pulled it from her pocket and looked down.
Got your number from Scarlett. Pearl’s sleeping. Rain check on the walk? —Click
She stared at the text. This was good. This was right. So why wasn’t she relieved?
Sure. She stared at the text, hit Send and shoved the phone back into her pocket. Her hands gripped the splintered porch railing.
Banshee was on his feet then, the hair along the back of his neck bristling and a low growl rumbling up from his chest.
“Let’s call it a night,” she said to Banshee, using her most cajoling voice. “Okay?”<
br />
He whimpered, glancing from her to the dark and back again.
“I know you could beat it, whatever it is.” She ran a hand down his back then headed in the house. “Come on, Banshee,” she called out to him.
He barked once, the need to defend his person and his territory overruling her. But once the warning was issued, he trotted into the house and flopped on the massive dog bed beneath the window.
“You’re a good boy,” she said, sliding the lock into place. She knew Banshee could protect her, no matter what. But he didn’t spook easy. “We’re getting up early tomorrow. Going to check out the clinic and explore a little of Fort Kyle.”
Banshee rested his head on his paws, those golden eyes drooping shut. She could only hope sleep would find her so easily.
* * *
IT WAS BARELY six in the morning. Click yawned, watching Pearl toddle across the living room. She was into everything. He’d already moved Lynnie’s teacup collection up onto the highest shelf of her ornate bookcase. All the framed pictures, books and treasured knickknacks that reminded him of Lynnie had also been moved outside his inquisitive daughter’s reach.
Now he was worried about her climbing up the carved bookcase. Or pinching her fingers in the door hinges.
He needed to check on the horses, assess the state of the barn and start making repairs. Whether he was selling or staying, the place needed some TLC. But how was he supposed to get anything done with Pearl underfoot?
Lynnie would have occupied her and told him what to do. If he sat still, he could almost hear her in the kitchen, or the creak of her rocker as she swayed slowly, knitting spilling from her lap and onto the floor. Her patience had been as boundless as her energy. He could use some of both right about now.
“Da da,” Pearl said, smiling as she hurried across the floor to him. She held up his keys, jangling them. “Da da.”
“Keys?” he said, smiling and lifting her into his lap. “You like making noise?” he asked, standing. “It does jingle.”
She shook the keys.
Cowboy Lullaby (The Boones 0f Texas Book 6) Page 9
