Dances with Wolf

by Farrah Taylor

  But Abby kicked things off herself. “Your sister’s a slave driver,” she said. “And sometimes we don’t exactly have the same taste.”

  “Oh man, same with my dad and me. Have you ever heard of a Western blazer with elbow patches? I felt like a fraud.”

  “You think there’s a conspiracy?” Abby grinned. Wolf thought, wow, we can do small talk just fine when we set our minds to it.

  “I know there is at our place. I think Mom hid my good-luck Wranglers in the freezer just to guarantee I’d have to buy new clothes.”

  “That could have been Bridge.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  Abby laughed. “It’s my dad’s sixty-fifth. They’re acting like it’s the Oscars.”

  The high school waiter, acne-faced and stumbling, delivered a black coffee to each side of the booth.

  “Just coffees?” he asked her. “No mint-chip fix for ya?”

  She laughed but seemed to catch herself. “Good memory. But I’m fine with coffee.”

  “Aww, come on. Indulge me.” Wolf felt himself losing control of his impulses, just the tiniest bit. Keep it light.

  “No…really. I’m on a tight schedule.” Her mouth formed a straight line, as tight as her schedule. As tight as her cute little butt, too.

  But now an awkward silence fell over the table. Think of something to say, man. He couldn’t just come out and bring up prom after ninety seconds at the table, though, could he? He needed to warm up to that. He settled on, “So, tell me about vet school. You…decided to leave?”

  “It just happened, second year. I was studying hard and doing pretty well. Then one day, our class was assisting with a breech birth over near the race track in Spokane. The horse was thrashing around and my professor was about to shoot her full of Oxytocin. I looked into her eyes. She had no idea what was happening to her. She was just a baby. And Wolf, so help me, she started looking at me, too, like she knew I wanted to help. So I walked over and held her face and talked to her. She quieted down, went into full labor with about half the Oxy they usually give. And twenty minutes later, she gave birth to a healthy filly.”

  “Sounds like a miracle.”

  “The opposite, in fact. It was as close to a natural birth as that thoroughbred was ever going to come. That’s when it occurred to me—by giving the drugs to speed up her labor, we weren’t assisting with the birth; we were interfering with it. I decided there had to be a better way.”

  “I’ll bet the professor was sorry to lose his prize student.”

  “Yeah, right. If I hadn’t dropped out, they probably would have asked me to leave. I was going on and on about drug-free procedures. I think they were afraid I’d start some kind of hippie cult up there.”

  “That’s great.” Wolf laughed.

  “You think so?” she said, looking like she’d never gotten a compliment in her life. “Thanks.”

  Wolf looked down at the table top, embellished with pocket-knife graffiti. Miles loves Julie. Casey ♥ Caitlin forever. What had possessed him to take her to Norm’s, where half the kids in Kalispell flirted and fell in love? He should have just taken her for a damned walk somewhere. No, that would’ve been even more romantic. Pull yourself together, man.

  “So, Bridget filled me in,” he said. “You were engaged, or about to be?”

  “Never one for chit-chat, were you?”

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine.” He looked her in the eyes. “But I’m genuinely interested.”

  “Okay, here goes: His name was—is—Ben. He was a classmate of mine. It was nothing set in stone. We had different ideas about the veterinary life, that’s all. He wanted to open up a big-city practice in Portland or Seattle. I wanted to work with horses exclusively. And I wanted to become a whisperer. Ben had absolutely zero interest in that.” She shrugged. “So that was the end of us.”

  “Zero interest in being part of your hippie cult?” said Wolf. “Good riddance, then.”

  She laughed, and he realized how long it had been since he’d made a woman do that, outside of a barroom or a bedroom, anyway. He wanted to make her laugh again. “I mean, you’re so into horses and doing your own thing. It’s hard to imagine you de-worming a cat in some Seattle office,” he said.

  She laughed again. Yes! “You’re right, I don’t work with cats, although they’d probably have something to teach me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know the way a cat or a dog’ll take off and find a quiet place to soothe itself when it’s sick or hurt?”

  Wolf couldn’t take his eyes off Abby’s face. Her cheekbones, high and polished, her full, sumptuous lips. He realized this might be the one time he’d be allowed to stare at her, really take in her beauty, while he was in town, so he indulged himself. “Sure, I know,” he said.

  “Well, a horse’ll do that in the wild. And depending on the elements, it might not survive. But what if we humans could understand a horse’s natural ability to heal itself and combine that with our own skills? I’ll bet we could cut equine mortality by half.” Abby shook her hair loose and leaned forward. As she talked to him about these things she cared most passionately about, she had never looked sexier.

  “So, Wolf? You with me?” Abby asked.

  “Of course. I get what you mean. I’m just wondering, would what you’re talking about ever apply to rodeoing?”

  “Sure, it would.”

  “But don’t you think a rodeo horse is a different animal entirely?”

  “Not necessarily. Depends on its background, on how it was trained. You cowboys are so focused on performance, on the short-term results you need from an animal, you skip all the most important steps. You forget you’ve got to build a rapport with a horse.”

  “Come on now, don’t lump us all together. I love Bullet. We definitely have a—whadya call it—a rapport.”

  “Wolf, rapport or not, I know how the rodeo works. You pick out a good horse, ride it into the ground, then go out and pick another one. There’s no time for a real connection.”

  Connection. That’s what he was enjoying so much about this—when was the last time he’d connected with a woman, with anyone? “Give me a little more credit than that. I treat Bullet like a queen.”

  Abby stirred what remained in her coffee cup in slow circles. “That’s good to hear,” she said.

  Treat her like a queen…just how Wolf should have treated Abby on prom night, instead of calling to cancel the morning of. Was it his imagination, or was she thinking the same thing he was? It was the last thing he wanted to talk about, but he was determined to go for it, anyway.

  He took a deep breath, feeling as nervous as he did astride a bull waiting to rocket out of the chute. Maybe more nervous. Say you’re sorry, he counseled himself. Make it sincere. But don’t sell out your dad while you’re at it. Can’t say a thing about the money. “So, Abs, I think—no, I know—I owe you an apology…”

  …

  Abby almost spat out her coffee. She’d been waiting for this moment for so long, but now that it was finally happening, she wished she could disappear, or better yet, clone herself so a tough, unfeeling robot-Abby could listen while the real, human Abby hid behind the booth, safely listening in on this most momentous event—The Apology of Wolf Olsen.

  “For…prom?” she asked. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and she barely resisted the urge to take her napkin from her lap and wipe it off.

  “Yeah. And for after that. For not explaining.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “We both know I do.”

  “Okay.” He had her there. Why was she getting in his way? “Shoot.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. He looked like he was sweating, himself. She’d never seen him off his game before. Not once. But he sure was now.

  “I wanted to take you, I really did. But you know how I was the runner-up at the American Legion Juniors that spring in Choteau?”

  “Please, Wolf. My who
le family was there. Both our families.” How could she forget? It was the biggest moment of Wolf’s life, and she’d been his biggest fan. She’d been terrified for him, somehow balancing himself atop a thousand pounds of bucking thoroughbred.

  “Well, I didn’t know it at the time, but Silver Randolph was in the stands watching me. The Silver Randolph. You know him, right?”

  “I’m a Montana native, Wolf. I know who Silver Randolph is.” Only the idol to a generation of young rodeo boys. Retired now, but a coach with a major eye for upcoming talent. “Go on.”

  “Well, the day of the prom, late afternoon, the phone rings. And who do you think it is? Silver. Calling me, at home. He tells me that one of his boys has gotten injured, bad, and do I want to sub the very next night?”

  “Yeah…” She knew the broad strokes of this story already, and was hoping the apology part was coming sooner rather than later.

  “It was a tough choice, believe me. I knew prom meant a lot to you.”

  Abby tried not to wince. The prom didn’t mean a thing to her, not then, not now. It was Wolf who had meant something to her, had meant the world to her.

  “So, obviously, I made the choice I did. I went to the rodeo.”

  “And you were rewarded for it. You won first prize. Five grand, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “I did, and I can’t say the money wasn’t a factor. Just…not in the way you might imagine. ” He blushed—he was actually capable of blushing—and looked down at the table. “Listen, the important thing is this: I’ve always regretted the way I handled it. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  “You mean if you had it to do all over again, you would have given up your dream just so you could take me to the prom?”

  “It felt like a one-shot deal at the time—like if I said no, I was shutting the door on the rodeo life for good. What I didn’t realize was that there would have been other chances to compete, but there’d never be another chance to…”

  “To what?”

  He was struggling for the words, white-knuckling the salt shaker like he could squeeze the answer out of it. “To be with you, Abby,” he said. “Just to be with you.”

  She felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She thought he’d never given it a second thought. “Why couldn’t you have just told me that, instead of avoiding me all this time?”

  “I haven’t been avoiding you, Abby. My life’s been crazy ever since then. I haven’t been home for more than a long weekend in years. But…you’re right. I was a stupid kid who thought that by ignoring a mistake, I could make it go away. And the longer I put off apologizing face-to-face, the harder it was to do it.

  “But I am sorry, believe me. Sorrier than I’ve ever been about anything in my life.”

  “Well, I’m sure it wasn’t easy to do it in the here and now, either. And I accept your apology.” She wasn’t sure what to do. It would have been too weird to hug across the table with all of Norm’s looking on. Seeing no better option, she held out her hand for him to shake.

  “Thank God.” He took her hand. “You won’t regret it, Abs. I mean, we were never really boyfriend and girlfriend, but we were more than that, weren’t we? We were, we are, practically family.”

  There it was, proof that he still thought of her as a quasi-sister, a little kid to whom he was involuntarily obligated. “Yep, practically siblings,” she said.

  “Aww, man, you’re the best,” he said. Her hand still in his, she watched the relief flood through him. So, they were on good terms again. But had he just called her man?

  Chapter Six

  Wolf could hear Bridget singing in her room above the whir of her hair dryer. His timing was good—it was a rare moment when his sister wasn’t hogging the house’s single bathroom—so he walked inside and locked the door behind him. He turned his back to the full-length mirror while he put on the new dress jeans and jacket and shirt. The Roper shirt with its pearl snaps hugged his six-pack. He zipped up the new midnight-blue denims, turned around and saw that, yes, he looked good. More importantly, with his apology to Abby delivered at long last, he felt like a million bucks. Until now, he’d had no idea how much that had been weighing on him.

  Luther pounded on the door. “Stop primping, bro, I gotta pee.”

  “Where you been, Luther?” asked Wolf, opening the door.

  “Fixing fences, like Dad asked.” That makes two of us. “While you hung out in K-Spell on a date with Abby Macready. She is looking fine lately, huh?”

  “It was no date, believe me. Who said that—Bridge?” If his sister were under the impression he’d been hitting on Abby, he’d have her to deal with, too. Couldn’t the Olsen household just sit still, at peace with itself, for more than five minutes at a time?

  “It was Mom, actually. She says you can’t afford to screw up with Abby again. Or the Macreadys in general, after all they’ve done for us.” Luther’s obnoxious smile could have only belonged to a seriously overshadowed little brother.

  Wolf nodded. Luther didn’t know that, in order to halt the foreclosure on their property, Wolf had been contributing his circuit winnings ever since leaving town, sending nearly all of his cash home—at first, a monthly minimum of five hundred a month, and eventually, to speed up the repayment process, up to three thousand. He was still making those monthly payments, but thank God, he had only two more to go. He could almost taste it; he was so close to financial freedom, both for his family and himself.

  Luther had been too young to do anything about the family’s financial trap, too young to know about the screw-ups of their dad’s that had created it in the first place. And now that the ranch was just about safely secured, he’d never need to. Wolf wondered whether Abby had ever caught wind of it, but after today, he could guarantee she had no clue. If she knew, she would have probably forgiven him years ago. She’d approve of Wolf’s loyalty to his family—a personality trait that had cost him their date to the prom as well as a chance to march with his class at graduation. But she could never know about how that trouble had gotten started in the first place. Only three people knew about that: Dad, Doc, and Wolf. And he was determined to keep it that way.

  “I don’t want you or Dad or Mom, or Bridge especially, to get all anxious about Abby and me.” Like there could ever be an Abby and me. “She’s got her life, and I’ve got mine. If we intersect now and then, it’s all good. If not, life goes on. You get that, right?”

  Luther nodded in the mirror. “All’s I know is, I heard Bridge tell Mom to make sure you weren’t allowed anywhere near Abby.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “She thinks you’re a ruthless lady-killer. Which, bro, is exactly why you’re my hero.” Luther grinned. He was always grinning. “So, you think you could clear the bathroom for a few minutes? If you don’t, you’re going to be hurting me. I’m dying here.”

  Wolf strode past him without further comment.

  “Woo-hoo!” Luther preened in front of the mirror. “Wait ’til the hometown hotties see us.”

  “They’re all yours.” Wolf turned back and swatted Luther on his backside. “All yours.”

  Ruthless lady-killer. It wasn’t true, hadn’t been for a long time. But if this was how his own family saw him, what did the rest of the world think? He was determined to improve his reputation, but it was clear—he had his work cut out for him.

  …

  Abby tried to hide her annoyance as she bustled through the hallway and up the stairs. A fast ride on a beautiful horse usually cured whatever ailed her, but today was different. She’d taken her own gelding, Beau, out for a ride, but she hadn’t been able to get her mind off the party. Wolf’s apology should have diffused the tension between them, but had it? She couldn’t just change the way she felt, like flicking a switch on her heart. The very idea of being in the same space with him got her riled up, which was inconvenient, considering his total lack of interest in her.

  Her mom had carefully placed her Blue Lagoon bag on
her bed. Abby pulled out the dress, but before trying it on, looked through the window past the circle of budding lilacs and down to the driveway. She saw men unloading round tables and lattice-backed chairs, leaning them against the tent that lay in thick folds on the ground.

  There was a knock, and Abby stuffed the dress back inside the bag. “Any luck, sweetheart?” Her mom’s head popped out from behind the bedroom door. She generally respected Abby’s privacy, but the party was making her forget the usual boundaries.

  “You know I found something, Mom.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t expect you to pick white.”

  “You looked?” Abby’s voice rose.

  “Not really. I’d much rather see it on you.”

  Abby scowled. She was too old to have a mom who snooped through her things. Maybe it was time for her to move into town, get an apartment with Bridget as a roommate, or even rent a place herself. “I’m grubby. Just took Beau and Stella around the loop.” She held out her hands. “If I even touch a white dress right now, I’ll ruin it.”

  “Well, get yourself cleaned up, then.” Her mom folded her arms and sat on the end of Abby’s bed. “I can wait.”

  Abby sighed and headed for the shower with Stella at her heels. The dog smiled and licked the condensation from the glass door. Abby felt her black mood lift. Dogs were more emotionally perceptive than most humans. Maybe she would keep Stella by her side tonight. She could sniff out Wolf—a fellow canine—and come back to Abby with a final judgment: were they meant for each other, or would they remain “practically family” forever?

  She grabbed the Blue Lagoon bag—her mom was still waiting, glancing through Abby’s bookshelf like she had all the time in the world—then wiped the last of the red dust from her calloused feet and put on the sassy Frey boots. The rhinestones glinted in the light from the bathroom chandelier. Why did I let Bridget talk me into these? I look ridiculous.

  Abby opened the door and walked toward her mom, who clapped her hands in response. “Wow, it works!”

  Next came a whistle. Abby looked up to see her dad at the door.