by Susan Fox
“Hey there.”
“I’m so glad you called!” She was still at high volume. “How are you?”
“Aside from deaf in one ear? I’m fine.” And near tears at hearing Penny’s voice and the pleasure in it.
“You saw Ben Traynor? He told you we’d talked?”
“Yes, and he told me you’re married and expecting. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” There was a pause, then she went on, subdued now. “This is weird. The last time I saw you I wasn’t even twenty-one. So much has happened since then.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know what all happened between you and our parents, but Sally, was it really so bad that you never wanted to talk to us again? Even when Pete died?”
She sighed. She had wanted to, but been too embarrassed, guilty, and messed up. Settling for a partial truth, she said, “I didn’t know if you wanted to talk to me. I know none of you were happy about me marrying Pete.”
“It happened so quickly, the two of you meeting and then getting married, and you giving up rodeo. Yeah, it was super-romantic, but I thought Mom and Dad were right that you should’ve taken more time to be sure. About Pete and about your career, after all the work and passion you’d put into it.”
Of course they’d been right.
Penny went on. “And no one understood why you guys couldn’t start Ryland Riding closer to home. Folks knew you, and they’d have been happy to do business with you.”
“Pete found this great spread at a reasonable price. I know it was hard, me moving so far away. But if they’d tried to understand rather than criticizing and then cutting us off—”
“Oh, come on, Sally. They tried. I tried. We called, e-mailed, wrote. For a year.”
“What?” Her sister was reinventing history. Sally’s family had cut off contact a few months after she and Pete had taken possession of this place.
One of the Barred Rocks, Lucille, was apparently tired of not getting attention. She flew up to settle on Sally’s shoulder. Sally leaned her head gently against the black-and-white body.
Penny said, “But after the first few weeks, you stopped answering. You didn’t return our calls and Pete sure wasn’t friendly to us. He finally told us you didn’t want us in your life. And you never so much as sent a birthday or Christmas card.”
“No,” Sally whispered disbelievingly. The mail came to and went from a bank of boxes a mile down the road. Pete had always dealt with it. They’d had only one phone, a cell, and he’d hung on to it because he handled the business end of their operation. For the same reason, he had controlled the computer. She’d let him. He’d had firm ideas about his responsibilities and hers, and she’d gone along—after learning that to do otherwise had painful consequences.
She hooked a finger into the silver chain around her neck, pulled the horseshoe free of her T-shirt, and held it gently. She’d come to suspect that Pete had wanted to separate her from her old life, but had he deliberately cut her off from her family? And lied when he’d said it was the other way around? “Penny, I have to go. I . . .” Need to think, to try and sort this out. “I have students coming. But I’ll call again.”
“Please call Mom and Dad, too,” her sister said. “They’re getting older and it broke their hearts what happened with you. And think about your niece, who’ll arrive in a month and a half. What am I going to tell her about her aunt? Whatever the hell went wrong with this family, we need to fix it, Sally.”
Her sister’s words and the emotion in her voice sent a ray of hope into Sally’s heart. Penny seemed to believe the situation was fixable. Sally might find her way back to her family.
“I’ll think about it, Penny. Give me a little time.”
“Okay.” She put on a school-teacherish tone. “But if I don’t hear from you in a few days, I’m calling you back.” Her voice softened when she added, “Bye for now. I love you, Sally.”
Before Sally could respond, Penny had hung up. “I love you, too,” she whispered, and Lucille clucked in response.
Overwhelmed, Sally gently removed Lucille and Cordelia from their comfy spots. She’d love to tell Ben about the call, yet she was so embarrassed about last night, so confused by her feelings for him, that she couldn’t face him yet.
She stalled by going back to the house for breakfast. She scrambled two fresh-from-the-bird eggs and ate them with toast and strawberry jam. Then, having only postponed the inevitable, she turned her steps to the barn.
Ben was grooming Madeleine’s horse, Star of Egypt. He glanced up with a warm smile. “Morning, Sally.”
“Morning.” Diving right in, she said, “I’m sorry about dragging you away so early last night.” And for barely speaking on the way home, then hurrying off with a quick good night, not even a thank you. “It was a nice evening but it got to be too much for me. I’m sorry if I spoiled it for you.”
He was usually so easygoing, and she hoped he’d say something like, “No problem.” Instead, as he moved around to the palomino’s other side, he said, “You can make it up to me.”
Warily, she asked, “How?”
“Come for dinner tonight. At my place.”
“Your place? You mean your trailer?” She stroked Star’s glossy neck and breathed in the comforting aroma of horse, considering the offer. The idea of sharing that confined space with Ben made her uneasy. So far, he hadn’t done anything to make her mistrust him, but nor had Pete until after they were married—or, at least, she’d been too in love to recognize the warning signs. Besides, there was the disconcerting effect Ben had on female instincts and urges she’d thought had died long ago. Sitting at that little dinette, their knees would bump. His presence would be too much. Too physical, too . . . Okay, too sexy.
Apparently oblivious to her turmoil, he had bent to run a soft brush down Star’s legs. “The trailer’s cramped,” he said. “I thought we’d sit outside. I’ve got folding chairs and a table, and a million-dollar view.”
She couldn’t help but smile. It was indeed a million-dollar view. Too bad that her equity in it was so tiny. Musing on his offer, she thought that the picture he’d painted was appealing, but why would he put himself out to fix—or buy—a meal for her? What did he want? “Why?”
“Jesus, woman. D’you have to make everything so damned complicated?” He straightened and scowled at her over the horse’s back. “I thought it’d be nice. That’s why. Stop thinking about it and say yes. Okay?”
She actually liked that he expressed his annoyance so openly. It reassured her that he was neither setting a trap nor about to hit her. She was coming to believe that with Ben, what you saw was what you got.
She wanted to accept his invitation. Eating a meal she hadn’t lifted a finger to prepare was such a treat. But more than that, she enjoyed his company. She’d tell him about her phone call with Penny and see what he thought. He could be pretty perceptive.
“Yes. With thanks, Ben.”
Ben helped Sally ready horses for her new clients, who were coming at nine, then hung around to greet them. He shook hands with Andrew, the guy he’d met at the physiotherapist’s office, and introduced him to Sally. Andrew, stocky and redheaded, introduced his husband, Terry, who was Asian and more slender. Both men were around Ben’s age, in decent shape, and clad in jeans and boots.
Leaving them to get on with the lesson, Ben did the exercises and stretches Monique Labelle had given him, along with some of his regular strength and flexibility training. He’d gone for a run earlier, before the day began to warm. His shoulder still ached, but it was improving. As a right-handed roper, surely he’d be in shape to compete with Dusty this coming weekend.
Monique, whom he’d seen twice, had warned of dire consequences if he went back too soon, and it was hard to discount the opinion of a former Olympic athlete. He’d see what she said on his next visit, and if he had to, then he’d just bite the bullet and wait another week. Not that it was any hardship spending more time with Sally.
W
hen the lesson ended, he went to help out. The two guys were enthusiastic and wanted to learn how to take off the saddles and bridles and groom the horses.
Sally worked with Terry, and Ben instructed Andrew. As he showed him how to undo the cinch, he asked, “What brought you two to Caribou Crossing?” Ben spoke loudly enough that Terry could hear as well.
“We came for my granny’s wedding,” Andrew said, “and fell in love with the place.”
“Your grandmother’s wedding?” Sally said. “That must have been fun.”
“Especially since she was marrying the love of her life, a woman she hadn’t seen in almost sixty years,” Andrew said, clumsily removing the saddle and dragging the pad off with it.
One-handedly, Ben caught the pad before it hit the ground.
Terry said, “Isn’t that just the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“It is pretty sweet,” Sally said. She guided the two men to the tack room and showed them where to put the saddles.
When they were back, working on the bridles, Ben said, “Yeah, it’s sweet. But man, think of those wasted years. If they loved each other when they were young . . .”
“I know.” Andrew paused in undoing the throat latch to gaze at Ben, his expression serious. “But times were different. To admit even to yourself to being gay was hard. Besides, they were really young. At that age, you can’t really be sure it’s a forever kind of love, can you?”
“If I’d met you when I was that young,” Terry said, “I’d have known.”
“Maybe. But society told them it was wrong. Granny Irene and her girlfriend Daphne figured that if they split up they’d, you know, move on. And they did, and had full lives, but they never found that same kind of love again.”
Ben helped Andrew juggle getting his horse’s bridle off and the halter on. Curious, but not wanting to be rude, he said, “Your grandmother obviously had kids.”
“She married, but it wasn’t a happy marriage. They split up. Granddad remarried, but she didn’t, not until she and Daphne got back together.” He said, “Sally, you might know Daphne Haldenby. She taught fourth grade here for decades.”
“No, I only moved here seven years ago. But I do hope the two of them are happy. They certainly deserve it, after all that time.”
“They’re totally adorable together,” Terry said. “They’re another reason for us to move here. We’re all, like, bosom buddies.”
“Nice,” Ben said.
“It is,” Sally said, a little wistfully. Was she thinking about her own family?
“Now we’ll take the horses out to the paddock,” she said.
She and Ben gave the students the lead reins and guided them. Then the four humans leaned on the top rail of the fence, watching the dozen or so horses as they grazed and socialized. Ben could tell from the contented expressions on the two men’s faces that they’d be coming back for more lessons, and likely would end up owning horses of their own.
He nudged Sally’s elbow with his. When she turned, he cocked his head toward the guys and gave her a smile. Her return smile and slight nod told him she was thinking the same thing.
When the men had left, Ben said to Sally, “I need to make a trip into town. Is this a good time?”
“Sure. In fact, you should have a couple of days off. Corrie took Mondays and Tuesdays.”
Amused, he shook his head. “What would I do with days off? You think I’m going to laze by the pool and suntan all day?”
Her eyes twinkled. “There are lakes you could laze by.”
“Maybe I’ll take a picnic lunch and ride out to one of them, spend an hour or so. That’s all the lazing I can handle. Of course, if you want to come along . . .”
“Ben, you already talked me into having dinner with you. Let’s not overdo, uh . . .”
“A good thing?” he teased.
Her lips twitched. “Whatever.”
“Okay, then I’ll head into town. Need anything?”
Of course self-sufficient Sally turned him down.
Once he got to Caribou Crossing, he parked off the main street and strolled through the small, picturesque downtown. He noticed Days of Your, the thrift store Cassidy had mentioned. The window display was bright and interesting, and one mannequin sported a Western shirt that would look good on Sally. It was a casual, daytime shirt in blue and green checks, not one of the dressier ones with fancy stitching on the yoke and pearly snaps. He wandered into the store.
A curvy redhead greeted him with a friendly smile. “Hey there. Thanks for dropping in. It’s been lonely here this morning. I’m Maribeth.”
“I’m Ben. I saw that checked shirt in the window. Thought my friend might like it.”
“What size does she wear?”
How the hell would he know? “Uh, I think you know Cassidy Esperanza?” That shirt of hers had looked just right on Sally.
“You bet! She’s one of my best friends.”
“My friend’s more or less her size.”
“Then you’re in luck, Ben.” She selected a pink shirt off a rack and climbed into the window. She unbuttoned the checked shirt and handed it to him. “Don’t want the poor girl flashing her wares in public,” she said cheerfully as she dressed the mannequin in pink. She backed out of the window. “What do you think? Is this for someone I might know?”
“No, I don’t think so. Listen, if it doesn’t fit”—or if Sally reamed him out for being presumptuous—“can I return it?”
“Sure. No problem.”
She folded the shirt and stuck it in a bag.
Whistling, he set off to shop for dinner. He decided on barbecued ribs, then dropped into the liquor store and asked the woman there to recommend a good red wine. He chose one with a name he liked: Jackpot Syrah from Road 13 Vineyards.
In no rush, he drove a different road back, a longer route that looped into the foothills. With the window open, he sucked in the scent. Light green; that was how the air smelled. Hay, a hint of cottonwood, a touch of cedar. He slowed to let two mule deer cross the road, and again a few minutes later to watch a bald eagle soar across the blue sky.
Oh yes, this was a fine place. He’d ride out here on Chaunce one day. See if he could persuade Sally to come along. That field of wildflowers on his right would make her smile.
Impulsively, he pulled to the shoulder of the road and got out. He hopped a ditch and leaned on the split-rail fence. The scent now was green plus flowers, sweet and a little spicy. Butterflies flitted here and there and the hum of bees made him think of wildflower honey.
After a glance around to make sure he was alone, Ben hopped the fence. No one would notice the loss of a dozen or so white daisies, spikes of orangey-red Indian paintbrush, blue lupine, and bright yellow flowers he didn’t know the name of. The brilliant copper-colored hummingbirds that darted and whirred from blossom to blossom still had plenty to choose from.
Climbing back into the truck, Ben had to laugh at what he intended to offer Sally tonight: messy spare ribs, a forty-dollar bottle of wine, and a straggly bunch of wildflowers. But hell, he was a cowboy, not some urban sophisticate.
He arrived back at Ryland Riding just before noon, put away his groceries, and stuck the flowers in a glass of water. Carrying the shirt, he went in search of Sally. He found her in the barn office at the computer, with file folders and papers beside her and a frown on her face.
He tossed the bag down beside her. “Got you something.”
She gazed up curiously, but didn’t touch it. “What? Why?”
“Saw it in the window of that shop Cassidy was talking about. It made me think of you.”
Her eyes widened, and she took the shirt from the bag. “Oh! Ben, that’s . . . You shouldn’t have.”
“D’you like it? I hope it fits.”
Hesitantly, she held it up. “It’s really nice, but I can’t let you do this.”
“Sally, it’s used clothing. It cost a whole eight dollars. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
She stood, her chin lifting. “I’ll pay you for it.”
He gave a disbelieving snort. “D’you realize how ridiculous that sounds? It’s eight freaking dollars, Sally.” His voice was rising, so he took a breath and strove for a lighter tone. “Could you just say thank you and stop arguing?”
Her mouth softened. “Maybe I could.”
God, she was irresistible when she looked like that. “Go on,” he coaxed, “give it a try.”
She gave in to a smile. “Thank you, Ben. I really like it.”
He grinned, wanting so badly to hug her. “Now was that so hard?”
“Kind of.”
It was progress. He hoped that tonight, over dinner, he could get her to relax and finally open up to him. He needed to know what had happened to make her so wary of men. And he figured she needed to talk about it before she could move ahead and heal.
Chapter Fourteen
It had been a relatively slack day, but all the same Sally took a shower before dinner. These days, it was so warm that she got sweaty wearing her usual garb of a T-shirt under a long-sleeved cotton shirt.
Ben had been hot, too. He’d had his short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned for much of the afternoon, hanging loose over his jeans. After they’d turned the last of the horses out into the paddock, he’d hauled up the hem to wipe his sweaty face.
Making her already-dry mouth go even drier.
“How can you stand wearing so many clothes in this heat?” he’d asked.
“I’m perfectly comfortable,” she had lied. For years, she had layered clothing a size too large, to make sure men didn’t look at her in “that way” and think she was coming on to them. Long sleeves, the cuffs done up, to hide the Pete-inflicted bruises.
Now, fresh out of the shower, she studied her reflection. One bruise on her forearm, from banging into the corner of a stall door. Her body was slim, maybe too slim, but her shoulders and arms were even more toned than when she’d barrel raced.
In the bedroom, she put on a plain beige cotton bra and reached automatically for one of her well-worn tees. She stopped, bit her lip, and instead picked up the checked shirt that lay on the bed. She slipped her arms into the sleeves, buttoned up the front, and looked in the mirror.
