by Mindy Neff
“Because she looked at me?” Tracy Lynn stepped a bit closer and tentatively stroked the horse’s neck. It was fairly easy to act brave as long as Linc was standing next to her. She noticed that Sunny was very carefully checking Miss Helen’s skin.
“I thought maybe it was your yellow sweater,” he said. “Horses tend to be drawn to that color. But for a second, her ear cocked toward you, too. And that’s more response than I’ve seen out of her so far. Would you try walking a little in front of us, see if she’ll follow? I’d like to get Miss Helen out of the way before I unload the stallion.”
“That stallion sounds like he’s getting impatient,” Sunny commented.
“I know. Do me a favor, Sun, and go tell Jack to keep everyone away from Matchmaker until I get over there. He’s going to be a son of a gun after the ride here. The previous owner said he’s not a good traveler.” Just as Sunny left, a loud bang rent the air.
Tracy Lynn jumped. “What was that?”
“Matchmaker trying to kick his way out of Jack’s trailer.” He adjusted his hat when a slight gust of chilly wind swirled around them. “He’s an expensive piece of horseflesh. He better settle down or he’s going to hurt himself.”
The sound of hooves striking metal grew louder. Tracy Lynn could tell Linc was agitated.
She made a snap decision and reached out to take the halter rope from his hand.
“Go see about your stallion. I’ll make an attempt to encourage Miss Helen to accompany me. We’ll keep out of your way.” Brave words, she thought. Hopefully, Miss Helen would recognize that she was a novice and take pity on her.
“Babe—” The stallion banged against the trailer with more fury.
“Go, Linc.”
“Okay. But if she acts up or tries to bolt, just let her go. You hear?”
“Yes, sir.”
When Linc rushed around the trailer, Tracy Lynn glanced cautiously at Miss Helen. She hummed a little sound of distress because she’d never been left alone holding a rope with a horse attached to the other end.
“Okay, girl. I know my hands are shaking like mad. Try not to pay any attention. All we have to do is follow orders and we’ll be fine.” Acting as though she knew exactly what she was doing, Tracy Lynn took several steps, but was brought up short when Miss Helen didn’t budge.
The sound of banging hooves coming from the other trailer were now joined by terse shouts of caution from Linc and Jack. Tracy Lynn retraced her steps, her heart thudding, her stomach sitting clear up under her breastbone.
“Don’t be common, Miss Helen,” she admonished, her voice sounding winded. “When out in public, one must always act like a lady. Stubbornness is not an attractive trait. Neither is embarrassment when you run like a scared rabbit—which I will definitely do if that beast over there starts backing in our direction. Please,” she begged, and was surprised when Miss Helen actually started without her.
“Oh. Here we go. See? This isn’t so bad, is it?” She was quite proud of herself even though she was scared spitless and felt very close to throwing up. Helen’s body kept bumping her shoulder. Worried about the safety of her toes, she tried moving away a bit, but Helen simply drifted with her.
“All right, you can cuddle. But don’t step on my feet, okay?” She walked the horse well past the front of Linc’s truck, not sure how to put on the brakes now that they had such good forward momentum.
“Um, we probably shouldn’t go too far. Don’t you think we ought to stop? Okay, fine. We’ll go a little farther, but then we really have to turn around and head back. Otherwise, we’ll end up in town, and I’m sorry to say, Anna can’t allow you to come into the restaurant. That would be a violation of the health code. And I do wish you wouldn’t hang your head like that. You’re breaking my heart.”
Helen followed her in a semicircle until they were headed back the way they’d come. “It sounds like things have settled down. I don’t hear that stallion pitching a fit, do you? Good thing you didn’t have to ride in the same trailer with him. Talk about acting common. He’s certainly showing his tail.”
Experimentally, Tracy Lynn tugged gently on the rope, trying to keep her hand well away from the horse’s mouth. “Whoa. Oh, look, it worked. Aren’t you a good girl?”
She looked up in time to see Sunny come around the back of the horse trailer and run smack into Linc’s back. How long had he been standing there watching her?
“That was quick,” she said. “Did you really go see about the stallion, or were you just teasing me?”
“Turned out Jack had everything under control.”
“Hmm.” She noticed that Sunny and Linc wore similarly bemused smiles. “I see I need to give the two of you advice about manners, as well. It’s not polite to eavesdrop—especially on a woman and a horse who are both shaking.”
Linc came toward her, relieving her of the lead rope. “You never know what you might learn listening in on conversations a person’s having with a horse.” His smile became a teasing grin.
“You keep poking fun, cowboy, and I’ll have the painters redo the walls in pink.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Of course I would. I love pink. I’m a girly-girl, remember?”
“Yeah, well, you’re a cute girly-girl who’s about to graduate to cowgirl. Thanks for taking over for me, babe. You’ve got grit beneath those fancy clothes.”
“What fancy clothes? I’m wearing blue jeans and a sweater. Same as Sunny.”
Sunny laughed. “Tracy Lynn, you couldn’t look the same as me if you tried.” She frowned. “Or maybe I should have said that the other way around. Your fingernails are manicured, your makeup’s flawless, and your sweater is cashmere.”
“So?”
“So, even your skin looks elegant.”
“Say ‘thank you,’ babe,” Linc coached.
Tracy Lynn fluttered her eyelashes at Sunny. “Thank you, babe.”
“Smart aleck.” Sunny motioned in Tracy Lynn’s direction. “Linc?”
“I see it.” As he spoke, he flicked something off her shoulder.
“What?” Tracy Lynn froze. “What’s on me?”
“Horsefly. It’s gone now.”
She tried hard not to shiver but lost the battle.
“At least it wasn’t a killer spider,” Sunny teased.
“Of course not. We’re much more civilized on this half of the ranch. We sweep away spiderwebs that lie in wait to attack our company.” With her finger, she lightly touched the tip of Miss Helen’s ear, jerking back when it twitched.
“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry,” she said to the horse. “Did I tickle you?”
Bending down to run her hands over Miss Helen’s legs, Sunny snorted. “Just because you like to have your ears rubbed, doesn’t mean everyone does.”
“You like to have your ears fondled?” Linc asked.
“Mmm,” she murmured. “I love it.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
She met his gaze, held it. “You do that.”
Sunny cleared her throat, but they ignored her.
Tracy Lynn could tell he was flustered by her comeback and decided to give him a break. “Why are Miss Helen’s ears drooping like this?”
He dragged his gaze away and focused on the horse. “It usually means the horse has lost interest in the world around her.”
“What can we do to help her?”
“You seem to be perking her up with your charm-school lectures.”
“Okay, fine. Go ahead and make fun of me.”
“Babe. I’m not poking fun. Well, not much, anyway. I’m impressed as hell that you’ve gotten this mare to respond—despite your fear.”
The compliment thrilled her. She was pretty darn proud of herself, too. “Never underestimate a lady.”
AFTER SUPPER, TRACY LYNN loaded her coat pockets with carrots and went out to the horse barn. The lights were on and the building was warm inside, but the wide center aisle was deserted. She’d thought Linc woul
d be out here, and she nearly changed her mind and went back to the house.
This wasn’t exactly her domain and she would have felt a lot better with someone at her side.
Grabbing her courage with both hands, she set off in search of Miss Helen’s stall. The smell of clean, fresh hay permeated the night air. A few of the horses hung their heads over chest-high doors and she smiled at them as she passed, feeling stupid after she did so, and feeling guilty that she was playing favorites with Miss Helen. Until she received a formal introduction to these other animals, though, learned their dispositions, she’d stick with the one she knew.
“Hey, there, Miss Helen,” she said softly when she located the correct stall. “I brought you a treat.” The mare’s ears lifted ever so slightly and turned toward her.
“How do you like your new room? It’s nice and big, isn’t it? Plenty of space to wander a bit and stretch out. And you have your own door and private backyard so you can graze. That’s pretty cool, don’t you think? I understand that the gardeners keep the grass nice and healthy. I’m sure you discovered that already since you don’t typically see green grass in December.”
She held the carrot between her thumb and fore-finger like a pointing stick. Her hands shook, and so did the carrot, which annoyed her to no end. The horse moved closer, then snorted.
“Oh!” She jerked back and so did Miss Helen. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Her voice shook, and she barely had enough air in her lungs to form the words.
“I’m such a ninny, but you probably already know that, don’t you? I’m sure you can feel my fear. I really am trying to conquer it, so you’ll have to be patient with me. Oh, what am I saying? You poor thing, you should be pampered after all you’ve been through, not worrying about my silly phobias.” She spoke softly, keeping up the running conversation as much for herself as for the horse. With each word, she felt calmer.
“You see, when I was a little girl, one of my daddy’s horses tried to turn me into a pancake. I realize now that it wasn’t deliberate. Something scared it, and I was in the way. Not that I’m making excuses for myself, I just wanted you to know it’s not your fault. How about if I set the carrot right here on the top of the door and you can come get it by yourself?”
From the doorway of the tack room, Linc listened to Tracy Lynn talk to the horse. He didn’t know how Miss Helen felt, but he was thoroughly enamored.
He knocked softly on the doorjamb, wanting to let her know he was here without startling her. Her blond hair swished across her shoulders as she looked around.
“Miss Helen would probably appreciate daintier bites if you want to feed her a treat.” He moved up next to her, took the carrot and broke it into several pieces, then placed one section in her palm. “Hold out your hand and see if she’ll come to you. She’ll nip the carrot with her lips, not her teeth. Her mouth will feel really soft, and it’ll tickle.”
“I hate it that I’m nervous.”
“You’re doing fine, babe. She likes it when you talk to her.”
“How do you know?”
“Watch her ears. They’re pricking up now, instead of drooping. And see how the insides turn toward us when we talk? She’s curious, making sure we can be trusted. Here, turn your body slightly sideways.” He put his hands on her shoulders and showed her what he meant. “This way you don’t appear threatening.”
After a moment, Miss Helen shuffled forward again and lifted her head enough to daintily nip the treat out of her hand. Tracy Lynn giggled. Her hand still trembled, but this time she didn’t jerk back.
“See?” He had to smile at her excitement. She didn’t let anything stop her, not even her fear. If Tracy Lynn set her mind to something, she went after it, no matter the obstacles, much the same as when she’d decided to get pregnant—on her own, without a husband.
In a small town, especially since she was the daughter of the most prominent man in the county, that had taken guts.
She fed another piece of carrot to the mare, then sighed. “I feel as though I’ve helped add two pounds to Miss Helen’s skinny frame.” Standing beside him, she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder, then reached for his right hand, the one that had delivered the punch. “How’s it feeling?”
“I’ll get to keep it.”
She gave a soft laugh. “Here we were worried about me starting a brawl.”
“I’m not proud of what I did, Tracy Lynn. After that bar fight years ago that landed me in jail, I swore I’d get a grip on myself, that I wouldn’t be another link in the chain of violence and anger my father subjected my family to.”
“Oh, Linc.” She stroked a hand over his back, soothing. “That’s not the same. You were protecting Miss Helen from a bully, not picking on someone out of meanness. I hope you turned the jerk over to the authorities.”
“Mmm-hmm. I took care of it. He won’t be owning any animals for a good long while.”
She stood on tiptoe and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Will you tell me how you got those scars on your back?”
He tensed at the abrupt subject change, and she slipped her arms beneath his unbuttoned flannel shirt, hugged him, then kissed the base of his neck just above his T-shirt.
“I know I’m prying,” she said, her hands running softly up and down his back where shallow ridges bisected his skin. “But you’ve got to let off some of your emotional steam. Every once in a while, you remind me of an old pressure cooker Suelinda used to have. It didn’t have the escape valve that the newer models are equipped with, and it built up so much pressure the top blew off and splattered boiled potatoes all over the kitchen. We had to throw the whole thing away.”
“Nice image. Sometimes things are better off thrown away.”
“Not people. And you don’t believe that for a minute. Otherwise, you’d never bring home these unwanted animals.”
He rested his chin on top of her head and allowed himself the pleasure of just holding her. “My father beat me bloody with a horsewhip for crying in public the day of my mother’s funeral.”
She gasped and tightened her arms around him. Since he wasn’t looking her in the face, it made the telling easier.
“Then he picked up a broken fence slat and swung it like a baseball bat. That was around the time Jack came looking for me—I’d made the mistake of going with my father out to the old shed-row stable. Alone. By the time Jack found us, my dad had beat my clothes right into my body.”
Tracy Lynn felt sick.
“We might have had to bury our father that day, as well, if I hadn’t pulled Jack off him.”
“Why didn’t someone go to the sheriff? They would have locked your father up for child abuse.”
“I was sixteen.”
“Darn it, that’s still a child!”
He shrugged. “That just wasn’t our way. We kept family business to ourselves.”
“Why wasn’t your dad charged with drunk driving when your mother was killed? Or at least manslaughter?”
“There wasn’t enough proof for an arrest. Maybe the wreck sobered him up. Maybe the alcohol was out of his system before he called for help. The accident happened around ten o’clock at night. He didn’t come staggering into the house until mid-morning the next day. That’s when he called the authorities. They found the truck wrapped around a tree. It wasn’t visible from the highway. He claimed he was dodging a deer, that he’d been unconscious all night. The sheriff probably felt sorry for him because his wife was dead.”
“You don’t believe his story?”
“No. I think he sat in that car all night and watched my mom die while he waited for his blood-alcohol level to drop.”
Tracy Lynn gasped. “Oh, Linc. Surely not.”
“Babe. Everyone in town knew he was a drunk. But that night he claimed that all he’d been drinking was water—enough to flush out his system, is my guess. My dad hated water, said only sissies and women drank it. Mom always kept a case in the truck, though,
for herself.”
“That beating is why you never take the shortcut to the highway from Jack and Sunny’s house, isn’t it? You’d have to pass the old shed-row stable.”
He looked away. “Pretty stupid for a grown man to hold a grudge against a broken-down building, huh?”
“Linc, don’t. I can’t begin to imagine being in your shoes. What’s so remarkable is the kind of man you’ve turned out to be. Good and decent. You’re not your father, Linc.”
“Losing my temper like I did today makes me wonder. I’ve got his genes. So don’t be putting me on a pedestal.”
“Why didn’t Jack tear down that stable when he built the new one?”
“I asked him not to. I wanted to see if I could reconcile my feelings about the past, go out to that old stable without breaking into a sweat and puking my guts out. So far, I haven’t found the incentive to put myself on the line like that. It’s like your memories of the horse that broke your collarbone. By steering clear of horses, you could put the incident out of your mind.”
“But I’m confronting my fears.”
“That’s why Southern women are called steel magnolias. You’re a lot stronger than us men.”
She was a little surprised he recognized that. “So why did you come back and build this elaborate ranch?”
“It’s an investment, babe. Business. And like I said, it’s sort of a proving ground, you might say. Me against my old man, bastard that he was. The last time I was in that stable, I nearly died. Just thinking about it creates a rage inside me. Instead of growing dimmer with time, the memories just keep getting stronger.”
She knew she shouldn’t feel hurt by his statement, but she did. There was nothing in this world that could stop his wrestling match of painful memories. No one could rescue him from his demons.
Not even her.
Miss Helen moved closer to the stall door, and Tracy Lynn held out another piece of carrot. She suspected this sweet buckskin had bad memories, too. She carefully put her hands on the horse’s cheeks, gently massaging in small circles, working her way to the drooping ears. They were so soft.
