At Wild Rose Cottage

by Callie Endicott

  He’d been goaded by Alaina’s taunts. He should have held out. No one would want to pay to have dinner with a broken-down ballplayer, and recognizing it didn’t mean he was guilty of self-pity.

  But he couldn’t back out now without feeling like a coward. And it was only a minor consolation to know that Alaina would see what a disaster his participation would be...because unfortunately, everyone else would see it, too.

  * * *

  TRENT WAS PLEASED when the truck repairs didn’t take long and they quickly returned to the farmhouse to load everything up. By noon he was leading the way back to Schuyler, only to lift his foot from the accelerator when he saw the sign reading Livestock Auction Today. It was the same small auction yard where he’d found Speakeasy, and the memory of the stallion’s poor condition was hard to forget. With a resigned sigh, he put on his signal and turned into the parking area.

  Emily pulled in nearby. “What’s up?” she asked, getting out.

  “It’s all right if you want to go on ahead. I just want to take a look.”

  She glanced around. “That’s okay. I’ve never been to a livestock auction. It might be interesting.”

  “Not if it’s the same as the last one I went to,” Trent muttered.

  “Oh?”

  “Sometimes you see animals being sold that haven’t been treated properly. My cousins could tell you some horror stories—they’ve done a fair number of rescues.”

  He deliberately made it sound as if Jackson and Josh were the only ones who took in abused animals, and not him.

  They walked past the tired bleachers that overlooked the primary auction area, to the animal pens beyond. For the most part the livestock appeared healthy enough, though an Appaloosa mare in a rear paddock seemed underweight, minimally groomed and quite nervous.

  “Trent Hawkins, isn’t it?” called a gruff voice.

  Trent saw Harold Burrows, a former rancher who now ran several auction yards in the region. He turned to introduce Emily, but she was trying to coax the Appaloosa forward with an apple.

  “What’s the mare’s story?” he asked quietly.

  “She’s mine,” Harold murmured. “Couldn’t figure out why she was so high-strung, then my barn caught fire and I found out my grandson had been sneaking in every Friday night with his friends, drinking, smoking and whooping it up.”

  Trent nodded. Horses recovered fairly well from single traumatic events, but it was more difficult when the trauma occurred over an extended period. That was Speakeasy’s problem—he’d been abused for most of his young life.

  Harold’s weathered face was troubled as he gazed at the mare. He was a decent guy and kept his operation as clean as possible, so it must have been tough revealing what had happened to the horse he’d raised. They’d both been appalled by Speakeasy’s condition and had turned the owner into the authorities for cruelty.

  “I’ve been tryin’ to work with her,” Harold said, “but she won’t let anyone... Say, will you look at that.”

  The mare had sidled over to the paddock fence, but instead of taking the apple, had pushed her head into Emily’s shoulder. Her trembling eased as Emily gently stroked her silvery-gray neck and whispered a long string of words...nonsense words, as far as Trent could tell, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was how the tension had visibly drained from the animal.

  “Is she one of them horse whisperers?” Harold asked, looking awed.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Trent replied. He was rather startled himself. Supposedly there were people with a rare, uncanny ability to communicate with animals, though he’d always believed the stories were exaggerations.

  Harold stepped closer to Emily. “Ma’am, are you a horsewoman? Cuz you got a real way with Stella Luna. That’s her name.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never even touched a horse. Is something wrong with her?”

  Harold explained and tears began running down Emily’s cheeks.

  Hell. Trent had a dismal feeling that Stella Luna was about to become part of his life. Yet he didn’t have to get involved, though there was something eerie about the way the mare had responded to Emily. But surely it was just a fluke.

  “You can buy her if you got somebody to help with horse care,” Harold offered. “Maybe Trent will do it. He’s workin’ with a problem stallion right now. Real sad case.”

  Trent tried not to glare. Stopping at the auction yard had been a lapse in judgment. Except...there was no doubt that Stella Luna had worried herself into an unhealthy condition, and his stubborn urge to jump to the rescue wasn’t limited to the human race.

  “I’ve got my hands full with Big Sky Construction,” he said, “but if you’re interested, Emily, I’ll call Jackson and see if he’s willing to board her.” No way was he going to have Emily coming out to the Balderdash every day.

  “That would be great,” she said eagerly. “I could go see her in the late afternoon or evenings.”

  Daytime would be even better, Trent thought, thinking about the privacy he needed to retrieve his father’s gun.

  He called Jackson, who was amenable to boarding the skittish mare on the Crazy Horse Ranch. Harold said he would deliver her in a few days when he was bringing another horse to a ranch near Schuyler.

  “It was a pleasure, ma’am,” Harold answered her thanks. “I been worried about Stella Luna and never seen somethin’ like the way she came to you.” Harold tipped his hat as they walked out to the parking area, then closed the sedan door for her with old-fashioned courtesy.

  “Are you crazy?” Trent growled to the auctioneer before getting into his own truck. “Emily is a New Age city woman who thinks houses talk and have feelings. She doesn’t ride, probably won’t stay in Schuyler and doesn’t have a clue how much work is involved in caring for a horse.”

  Harold shrugged. “My gut says she can do more for Stella Luna than I ever could. Jackson will handle everything else and I don’t mind if he ends up owning her.”

  “Whatever.”

  Trent drove out of the auction yard, Emily following. His cousin had been happy to provide a home for the traumatized animal, even offering to buy the Appaloosa, being particularly fond of the breed.

  So there wasn’t any real need to be concerned, either about Stella Luna or his solitude on the Balderdash.

  * * *

  WHEN EMILY PULLED up in front of Wild Rose Cottage she saw part of the roof had been removed and the front yard was full of loose shingles. It was something to think about instead of the enormity of what she’d done at the auction yard.

  Trent didn’t realize it, but she’d heard part of what he’d said to Harold Burrows. She was crazy. What had happened to her normally sharp business brain that thought things through and made better decisions?

  Of course, buying the Emporium had turned out all right. And things were looking pretty good for Wild Rose Cottage. But a horse, especially a horse with problems? Maybe her brain had gotten scrambled by kissing Trent, followed by trying to pretend it didn’t matter. Well...it didn’t. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.

  She got out of her car and smiled bravely at Trent, who’d parked closest to the door.

  “The shingles and other debris will be cleaned up, though it may take a few extra days,” he explained. “The guys I usually hire for cleanup jobs have been scarce because of that bug going around. By the way, Alaina texted that Mike and the rest of the crew have it, too, so I doubt they’ll be back until next week.”

  “They have my sympathy. I got it before the renovations started.”

  “At least it’s behind you. If I have any spare men I’ll send them over tomorrow to get the shingles into the Dumpster.”

  “Thanks.”

  Smiling again with casual friendliness, Emily unlocked the door so they could carry everything inside. “Th
is has been fun,” she said as they took the stained-glass windows into one of the side rooms for storage. “Any time you want clumsy help while salvaging a house, give me a call.”

  “You weren’t clumsy,” he shocked her by saying. “You catch on quickly.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m the smart Geor—” She cut the words off. Repeating the things she’d heard all her life wouldn’t help her overcome those blasted insecurities. “Thanks for the night under the stars. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing it by myself.”

  He glanced around. “You’re welcome, but if you don’t mind, I’ll do more work on the window frames before I leave.”

  “You don’t want to go home?”

  “I’m used to a very full workday. Just go do whatever you need to do.”

  What Emily wanted most was a shower—the downside to sleeping in the truck had been the primitive bathroom facilities. And why shouldn’t she take a quick one? Trent would respect her privacy.

  The hot running water felt wonderful. The bathrooms in Wild Rose Cottage had suffered from lack of attention over the years, but at least they provided more than a trickle of rusty water, which was all the faucet at the Helena farmhouse had emitted. However much she loved old houses, the twenty-first century was a vast improvement when it came to plumbing.

  Waking up that morning, she’d decided to act as if nothing had happened. All that had occurred was a kiss...a really hot kiss, but just a kiss, and a brief one at that. So she’d said good morning and shared the coffee left in her thermos.

  Before the tow truck arrived they’d organized everything they had removed from the house. She was delighted that Trent was sending a crew to do a full salvage job, and thought the farmhouse was happy, too, that its treasures wouldn’t be completely lost.

  As for Wild Rose Cottage...it felt as if it was waiting for something, and the sensation was even stronger now that she’d returned.

  * * *

  WHILE TRENT REGRETTED his employees being ill, he relished the possibility of private work time on Emily’s house. In fact... He pulled out his smartphone and texted Alaina, telling her that when Mike returned to work, he should be assigned to another crew for the rest of the week.

  He tucked the cell back in his pocket and examined the window frame he was finishing. It had been a while since he’d done such detailed work. The economy was improving, but until it was strong again, few people wanted to spend the kind of money required for historic restoration.

  In the rear of the house he heard the shower running and tried to ignore the sound. It was too tempting to envision what Emily looked like, sleek and bare under the stream of water.

  Hell. What was it about her that was eroding his self-control? And he reminded himself of how flaky and unrealistic she was about everything. That kind of woman was pure trouble.

  He began working and Emily soon came in to strip more wallpaper using the steamer he’d brought a few days ago.

  “This gadget is great,” she enthused, “much better than brute force or trying to soak the stuff off. It’s dumb, I should have realized there’d be something to make the job easier.”

  The comment, along the one made earlier, reminded him of the way she’d once described herself...as the “smart George sister.” At the time he’d thought it was rather egotistical, but she didn’t seem egotistical. Not that it was any of his business, and the less attention he paid to her quirks and idiosyncrasies, the better.

  * * *

  TRENT RELISHED BEING able to work on the house alone the next day and it would have been a perfect opportunity to retrieve everything if only Emily would stop trying to pitch in. It was partly his own fault since he had admitted that she’d provided genuine assistance at the old farmhouse. Her persistent helpfulness was inconvenient and he still wondered about her motives. But maybe she was just trying to make up for all the changes she wanted to the contract.

  And she was damned cute with plaster powdering on her cheeks, as if she’d been sprinkled with pixie dust.

  The fanciful image was enough to promote heartburn. Trent excused himself on the pretext of going outside to call the office. He wouldn’t allow himself to savor Emily’s charms. Mean polecats didn’t need charming. Instead they climbed trees and spat at the world.

  CHAPTER TEN

  EMILY BOUNCED OFF her bed on Thursday morning, determined to make it better than Wednesday had been. Trent had gone stiff and uncommunicative the previous day, similar to when he’d first begun the renovations. After their work together at the farmhouse, she’d hoped he’d warm up from frigid to merely cool.

  Of course, maybe he didn’t want to be friendly.

  He could have decided he’d come too close to making a mistake that night in the truck and was trying to keep his distance so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. That was fine.

  Curiously, 7:00 a.m. came and went without Trent knocking on her door, then the phone rang shortly before 8:00. Caller ID showed it was Big Sky Construction.

  “Trent?” she answered.

  “Sorry, Em, it’s Alaina. Trent came down with that flu as well, so I’m afraid no one will be there today. Mike is back and I could send him—”

  “You’d better not,” Emily cut in swiftly. “He might try to...well, you know.” Mike kept trying to get a second date and she was still trying to head him off.

  Alaina was silent for a moment. “You’re a good friend. Trent wants Mike to fill in holes on other crews this week unless you can’t live with the debris in your yard any longer.”

  “Nope, it’s fine. Did you hear about me buying a horse?”

  “Lord, yes. Jackson wants to drive over and get her himself. His personal riding stallion is an Appaloosa—he loves the breed. So if you want to sell the mare to him, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to have her.”

  Emily wondered if Trent had suggested the possibility to his sister. It would probably be for the best, but she remembered the way Stella Luna had pushed into her shoulder, as if seeking a safe place. Harold Burrows had entrusted his mare to her and she couldn’t see surrendering her without giving the whole thing a fair chance.

  “I’ll think about it. It must be pretty hard taking care of a horse.”

  “You get used to it,” Alaina said casually. “Of course, I was just three when Mom and Dad brought us out to their ranch to live, so I grew up with horses. Why don’t we meet for lunch at the Roundup Café?”

  “Sure.”

  Emily spent a couple of hours tossing shingles from her front yard into the Dumpster, then showered and headed for the Emporium to touch base with her manager. Business was brisk, though it would undoubtedly slow down once the tourist season ended.

  The Emporium had been in trouble when she’d bought it, but mostly it had needed a facelift and a better selection of merchandise. So she’d changed the inventory, advertised in key tourist publications, painted, and the place had become surprisingly profitable in a short period of time...but she wasn’t really needed now, except to pick out stock.

  Maybe she should buy another business.

  Or maybe not.

  She didn’t want to be one of those people who flitted from place to place and project to project. Besides, she had lots to do in Schuyler...including getting to know a horse.

  Feeling better, Emily left to meet Alaina. The restaurant food in Schuyler was good, but didn’t have the international variety she’d enjoyed in Los Angeles. Perhaps cooking new cuisines was a hobby she could explore in her new kitchen.

  Alaina was waiting for her and they chose a table near the window.

  “I’m glad you suggested getting together,” Emily said after they’d given the server their order. “The quiet at the house felt weird.”

  “Wish I could say the same about the office. I’m juggling crews to get the priority jobs done. You can’
t leave a ninety-year-old woman without plumbing.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  Emily wondered if the ninety-year-old woman was one of Big Sky’s “special” jobs. She’d overheard comments the crew had made and figured out that Trent sometimes worked free for certain people. It was an interesting insight into his character.

  When she’d asked Eduardo about it, he’d been embarrassed and asked her not to say anything.

  The boss wants to keep that kind of thing under the radar, Eduardo had told her. We shouldn’t have been talking about it.

  No worries, she’d assured him. Emily knew how to keep secrets. And it was Trent’s concern if he wanted to keep a softer side of his personality private. But why keep it private? Despite his reputation for honesty, most folks thought he was as tough as old rawhide, which wasn’t a reputation she’d cultivate.

  “You look pale,” Emily commented. “Is everything all right?”

  Alaina yawned and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ve been having nightmares lately. I think it’s the same one I used to have as a kid, with lots of yelling. I remember feeling scared, but no real details.”

  “That’s too bad. A friend of mine says dreams can tell us what’s going on in our lives and how we feel about stuff.”

  Alaina snorted. “I know exactly how frustrated I am with Mike. I don’t need a dream to tell me that.”

  Emily knew how she felt. She was frustrated with Trent, though for entirely different reasons. Or maybe she was just annoyed with herself for thinking about him so much. He wasn’t her business and he never would be. Nor was she interested; he was too cynical. Even friendship with someone like that would be a challenge.

  * * *

  ALAINA SIPPED HER iced tea and relaxed for the first time since the worst of the flu epidemic had begun.

  For days she’d been bursting with the news that she’d convinced Mike to be in the auction. Well...had badgered him into it. Part of her felt guilty, but she also knew she’d told him the plain truth. Yet however much she wanted to tell Emily, the committee kept the list private until they were ready to advertise.