Wyoming Sweethearts

by Jillian Hart

  “She is pretty excited about this young man. She wants you to call her. Take a few moments to gather your strength first.” Mom’s eyes twinkled as if she were enjoying herself.

  “Yes, because this is so amusing.” Eloise shook her head, laughing, too. “This is my life. My grandmother is finding dates for me.”

  “And don’t you disappoint her.” Dad spoke up with a rattle of his magazine page and a grin.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” She loved her grandmother with all her heart. No one on earth wanted to disappoint Gran. “Even if she is torturing me.”

  Her parents chuckled as if she’d made a joke. Sure, her personal life was a laugh a minute. Shaking her head and laughing at herself—what else was a girl to do?—she hoisted up out of the extremely comfortable chair and made her way to the kitchen. As she dialed the phone, her gaze drifted to the large picture window overlooking the patio. Her parents made an iconic picture, sitting side by side beneath the striped table umbrella. Their silence was a contented one, broken by quiet murmurings and gentle smiles, a sign of their long and happy marriage.

  Not everyone got the fairy tale. That was simply a plain fact. Eloise leaned against the counter and listened to the phone ring.

  “Hello?” Gran warbled cheerfully. “Is that you, Eloise? Your mama promised you would be calling me.”

  “Yes, it’s me, Gran.” Theirs was a lifetime love, too. She adored her grandmother. She would do anything for her, which was why she was doomed. “You might as well get to the point.”

  “I talked with Madge.” Gran’s excitement vibrated across the line. “This is what I learned about George. He manages an office-supply store over in Sunshine. He’s a good Christian boy and he wants to get married.”

  “Why can’t he find someone to marry him who actually knows him?”

  “Well, he is terribly short but you don’t mind that, do you? A short husband is better than none at all. It’s what’s inside that counts.”

  “Yes, it is.” Who was she to be arguing with that? She leaned her cane against the cabinet doors and prayed for fortitude.

  “I have high hopes for this one. Don’t worry, I’m looking out for you, sweetheart.”

  “I’m looking out for you too, Gran. I’ll drop by after work tomorrow.” Her grandmother needed a little help around the house these days, and she was happy to do it. That way they could spend quality time together, another very big advantage to being back home again.

  After chatting for a few more minutes, she bid Gran goodbye and hung up the phone. The peace of the evening filled the kitchen like the rosy light of the sunset tumbling from the western horizon. The entire landscape glowed as if painted with a luminous pearled paint. Her mind drifted back over her very good day and lingered on the memory of a man with a black Stetson holding a strawberry ice-cream cone in one rugged hand. A very nice image, indeed.

  Chapter Three

  “Good afternoon. Lark Song Inn.” Eloise tucked the receiver between her chin and shoulder. “How may I help you?”

  “Yeah, this is Nate Cannon. I need to talk with Eloise.”

  “Dr. Cannon.” The local vet. A kick of anticipation charged through her, so she grabbed a pen off the front desk and poised it over the memo pad. “I’m Eloise. Did you happen to hear about my mission?”

  “Cheyenne clued me in. She said you folks are looking to buy horses in need, and I happen to know of a pair.”

  “Bless you.” She’d tried the local agencies and organizations over the last handful of days, but no luck. “Where are they? What are they like?”

  “Two geldings, as gentle as could be. Their owner passed away a while back and the folks who inherited the land don’t want to keep them. It’s hard to sell horses this old, so if your boss is looking to make a difference in an animal’s life, she wouldn’t regret taking them in.”

  “They sound perfect.” The poor things. She glanced at her watch. Wendy should be back from her break in a few minutes. “Could I take a look this afternoon?”

  “I’ll give you the address and phone number. Now, these folks aren’t the most agreeable so you might want to bring someone with you who really knows horses. Like Cheyenne. I’d offer, but I’ve got a show horse with colic to get back to and a busy afternoon after that. You could call my receptionist. She might be able to book you a time.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll call Cheyenne.” After getting the necessary information, she buzzed Cady, who was delighted at the prospect of horses for the stables, then dialed her best friend’s number.

  “Hello?” A familiar baritone rumbled across the line. “Stowaway Ranch.”

  “Is this Sean?” Why was she smiling? The man simply had that effect on her. She was curious. That was different from interested.

  “Eloise. How are you doing?”

  “Fine enough.” Was it her imagination or did he sound glad to hear from her?

  “Are you calling for Cheyenne?”

  “Guilty. She promised me use of her horse expertise. Tell me she’s there.”

  “I wish I could but she took off to do some shopping in Sunshine. Should be gone all afternoon. I might not be an expert when it comes to horses, but I’m no slouch either. What kind of help do you need?”

  “Uh …” Brilliant answer. Her brain decided to short circuit again. “The vet found some horses.”

  “Oh, and you need someone to go with you. I can do that.”

  “Uh …” Was she stuck on that word? What was the matter with her?

  “It’s a slow afternoon and I like to make myself useful. I can bring a horse trailer.”

  “I can’t say no to that.” Especially since she didn’t own a vehicle capable of pulling one. But did she really want to spend an afternoon with the most gorgeous man she’d ever met? She was fairly sure judging by the amount of friendliness in his voice that he hadn’t noticed her cane yet. She dreaded the moment when he did, but putting horses in the inn’s stables was her new assignment. She wanted to do her job well. “Let me give you the address.”

  “Great. I need something to write with.” A drawer banged open before he came back on the line. “Got it.”

  “You probably know where this is already, but the vet gave me detailed instructions.” She gave him the information. “When can you get there?”

  “Give me thirty minutes?”

  “Thirty minutes it is. Thanks for helping out, Sean.”

  “Hey, that’s what friends are for.” He set down the pen and folded the scrap of paper.

  “I didn’t know we were friends.”

  “A friend of Cheyenne’s is a friend of mine.” He ignored Mrs. Gunderson who bustled into sight with a laundry basket balanced on one hip. A lone wolf could have a friend or two and still be a lone wolf, right? “I’m happy to help. I like what Cady’s doing. She could be filling her stalls with pampered horses, but she wants to make a difference. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Thanks, Sean.” Eloise’s gentle alto was about the prettiest sound he’d ever heard. She wasn’t fake, like some women he could think of—Meryl came to mind—but honest and sincere. He liked that. Those were just the right qualities for a friend.

  He hung up and caught Mrs. Gunderson’s raised eyebrow as she paused midway up the stairs, free hand on the rail. There was no mistaking that motherly look.

  “What?” He held up both hands, the innocent man that he was. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “I didn’t say a thing.” She had raised five sons of her own, so he knew she was wise to the ways of the male mind. “You call me if you aren’t coming home for supper.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be home for supper?” He grabbed a chocolate-chip cookie from the jar. “This isn’t a date. It’s a humanitarian mission. Well, an animal welfare mission.”

  “You like that girl.” Mrs. G. narrowed her gaze at him. “Don’t try and fool me.”

  “I’m not fooling you. I like her. What’s not to like? But I don’t like her.” After Meryl, he’d
be stupid to. A smart man would be leery after being used like that.

  “Sometimes the best things come along when we aren’t looking for them.” She went on her way, padding up the stairs and out of sight, her words carrying up to him. “All things are possible to him who believes.”

  Boy, did she have the wrong idea. Sean shook his head. Mrs. G. couldn’t be more mistaken. When he wiped a crumb off his shirt, he noticed his T-shirt had a hole in it. His jeans sported grass stains and his work boots were dirty.

  Maybe he’d better go change. Getting spiffed up had nothing to do with seeing Eloise. It was simply a matter of cleanliness. He took the stairs two at a time, whistling.

  “This must be the place,” Eloise said to herself as she glanced at the reflective numbers stuck to the side of a battered black mailbox. Although two numerals were missing, the description matched the vet’s directions so she eased her car off the paved county road and onto a driveway that was more dirt and potholes than gravel. She listened to the rush and whap of weeds and grass growing in the center of the lane hitting the underside of her car. Hopefully there wasn’t anything big enough to do any damage. She gripped the steering wheel tight and eased up on the gas pedal.

  Something dark and large lumbered up behind her, filling the reflective surface of her rearview mirror. She recognized that dark blue pickup. Sean. The sunshine seemed brighter, although that was probably an illusion and had nothing to do with the man’s appearance. She eased around a hairpin corner and a dilapidated covering built out of corrugated metal and weathered two-by-fours came into sight. It huddled sadly against a broken-down fence. Barbed wire hung dangerously from listing and rotting posts. Most of the grass had been eaten away from an acre-sized field, where two horses pricked their ears, spotted the truck and came running.

  She pulled to a stop in front of a carport that had seen better days. A rusty truck rested in the shade. Overgrown grass danced in the wind as she watched Sean’s vehicle pull up beside her. Maybe the last wheeze of the air conditioner was the reason the hair stood up on her arms. She did not want it to be a reaction to the man strolling into sight. She braced herself for the inevitable and reached for her cane.

  Sean Granger looked like a western hero in his long-legged worn blue jeans. The white T-shirt he wore emphasized his sun-kissed tan and as he swept off his Stetson, muscles rippled beneath the knit cotton blend.

  He raked one hand through his brown hair and smiled down at her as he opened her car door. His dreamy blue eyes captured her with a steady stare and then his gaze slid downward as she climbed out from behind the wheel, stood tall and used her cane.

  Here was where he dimmed down the smile and his friendliness when he got a good look at her cane. It’s what most guys did whether they were interested or not. She braced herself for it as she took one limping step, but it didn’t come. Instead Sean closed the door for her, nodding toward the horses. “Did you get a look at them?”

  “No, I was too busy trying not to lose my car in one of the potholes,” she quipped and was rewarded with a grin as he swept his hat back on.

  “They saw the truck and came running. Look at them.” His hand settled on the curve of her shoulder, a friendly weight, as he turned her gently toward the fence line. “I wonder if their former owner drove a truck like mine.”

  “They keep staring at it, almost waiting for someone else who might be in there.” She gasped, realizing how they must be feeling. “Dr. Cannon didn’t say how long the gentleman who owned them has been gone.”

  “Three months. Animals don’t forget those they love.” Sean ambled up to the fence and held out his hands for the horses to scent.

  She took the opportunity to put a little physical distance between them. He was more touchy-feely than she was used to or felt comfortable with. “How do you know that?”

  “Uncle Frank knew. I told him where I was headed. He knows everyone in these parts.” Sean patted one of the horses. The big black gelding lowered his head for a good ear scratch. No one had taken time to comb out the tangles and burrs in his mane, and his hooves needed attention.

  “You are a good fellow,” Sean mumbled and the horse closed his eyes in trust. There was something deeply calming about the man, Eloise agreed. He made others feel safe.

  “Are you the folks the vet called about?” A middle-age man wearing faded overalls and carrying a pipe limped into sight. He didn’t seem to be in good health.

  “We are.” She spun to face him, thinking about the blank check her boss had handed over to her. “I’m Eloise from the Lark Song Inn.”

  “I’m Harry.” He tipped his sagging hat. “Are you still interested now that you’ve seen them? They ain’t much, and I regret to say I’m not up to caring for them.”

  “I’m sure we can settle on a price.” She glanced over her shoulder at the horses, one still accepting strokes from Sean, the other watching the blue pickup sadly. He finally lowered his head, perhaps realizing his beloved former owner would not be emerging from the pickup, and stood still and silent, his dejection as tangible as the wind on her face.

  She couldn’t bring back to them what was lost, but she could make sure these horses were cherished and pampered. Good things were ahead for them. They just didn’t know it yet. She tugged the check out of her purse, wondering how best to proceed.

  “Do you trust me?” Sean towered over her, as breathtaking as any hero in a Western legend. “I can negotiate for you, if you’d like.”

  “Yes, thank you.” She handed him the check, relieved in more ways than she knew how to say. She had no idea what the horses were worth, and she could see the man had a tough row to hoe. She didn’t know what was fair, but she sensed Sean knew how to make it right.

  She watched him stride away and offer Harry his hand. They shook, making introductions and small talk about the man who was deceased. A low-throated nicker caught her attention, and she found the friendlier horse watching her with curious eyes.

  “Your lives are about to improve.” She ran her fingertips down the gelding’s graying nose. “Just you wait and see.”

  In the back lot at the inn Sean lowered the ramp with a clatter, surprised as Eloise tapped up the incline with a lead rope in hand. She didn’t let her cane slow her down much. A glow of admiration filled him as he followed her up. The horses, not used to the trailer, were in various stages of fear. The black one fidgeted against his gate.

  Eloise laid a comforting hand on his flank and spoke calmly and confidently like someone who had been around horses all her life. “It’s going to be all right, Licorice.”

  The gelding blew out a breath, as if he were highly doubtful of that.

  “How about you, Hershey?” she asked, unlatching the brown gelding’s gate. The bay glanced over his shoulder to study her, his eyes white-rimmed, but he didn’t move much as Eloise clipped into his halter and led him out.

  Why couldn’t he look away? He ought to be paying attention to the horses, but all he saw was the woman. She walked like a ballerina even with an obvious limp.

  There was strength and a beauty inside her that became clearer every time he looked.

  “I know you’re worried, Hershey, but trust me when I say you have one of the best stalls in the county waiting for you.” Her alto rose and fell like a song over the pad of her cane and the clomp of hooves on the ramp. “Cady went all out when she built this stable. Every stall is huge and it has a view. That’s it. Turn for me, big guy. Come this way, that’s right.”

  Kindness made a woman truly beautiful, Sean decided as he laid a hand on the black’s neck. The gelding shivered, lunging nervously against the metal barrier.

  “It’s all right,” he crooned, aware of the tension bunching in the horse’s muscles. “It has to be hard having no say in this, but you are going to be just fine. No worries, buddy.”

  He clipped on the lead and backed the horse down the ramp. Every step Licorice took was halting as if he wanted to bolt into the trailer and go home. The
unknown can be scary, so Sean used his voice to reassure the horse and led him down the breezeway between large but empty box stalls.

  All he had to do was follow Eloise’s voice, which felt as natural as breathing. Sunlight found her, burnishing her blond hair and haloing her like a Renaissance painting. Her frilly blouse and slacks weren’t typical barn wear, but she didn’t look out of place as she secured the gate to the straw-strewn stall. Inside, Hershey gave a snort and paraded around, taking in his view of the grassy paddock and various troughs for water, grain and alfalfa.

  “Licorice can have the corner stall.” She spotted him coming and opened the gate wide. “Rocco, who’s on barn duty, has everything ready for them.”

  Across the row, a gold-and-white mare raced in from her paddock and clattered to a stop in her stall. Curious to meet her new neighbors, she arched her neck, whinnying in a friendly manner. Her big chocolate eyes shone a welcome.

  “This is an exciting day for Misty, since she’s been all alone in the stable,” Eloise explained as he closed the gate and unhooked the lead.

  “It’s a pretty good day for me, too,” he quipped, not at all sure how to say what he was feeling. “We did good work today.”

  “Yes, and I am indebted to you, sir.” She handed him back the rope she’d used on Hershey. “I couldn’t have done this without help.”

  “You mean without me.”

  “Well, yes, since you’re the one who helped me.” She gave her shiny hair a toss behind her shoulder, shaking her head at him as if she didn’t know what to make of him. “It was good of you to volunteer. Cheyenne doesn’t know what she missed out on. Until next time, that is.”

  “Hey, I don’t mind doing this again.” He kept his tone casual and made sure he didn’t make eye contact. A lone wolf didn’t work at making connections, he kept things light and loose. “I had fun. There’s a lot of satisfaction to this. These horses weren’t wanted, and now they are. It’s a good way to spend an afternoon.”