East of Easy

by Linda Bleser

  She flipped through the pages of her yearbook and came to a picture of the three of them—Kate, Max and his twin sister Sue. They looked so young, so carefree and innocent. Kate let out a wistful sigh. If she’d only known then how quickly everything would change.

  The book opened naturally to the well-thumbed page with Max’s senior picture. Even in the posed portrait, he exuded a relaxed confidence. An unruly curl escaped just-combed hair, making her reach out as if she could touch the past and brush the stray lock from his forehead. Her touch lingered over the cocky half-grin that seemed to mock the camera, fingers tracing slowly over those lips she knew could go from tender to demanding in a heartbeat.

  In her mind she could still see him the way he was back then—cocky and sexy and so handsome it took her breath away. She used to stare at him in class for hours like a lovesick puppy. If she closed her eyes she could still feel his lips lingering over hers, could smell the sensual mix of earth and sunshine she associated with kissing Max Connors.

  A whimper escaped her lips. Damn him! She slammed the yearbook shut and reached for her appointment book, slashing a red “X” through Saturday, Sunday and Monday. That still left eleven more days to get through before returning to her life. Her own life—a cramped two-room apartment in Manhattan that devoured most of her paycheck, concrete and bus fumes and long rides on sticky subways in a cold and lonely city. A city without Max.

  Which was exactly what she wanted. Wasn’t it?

  She was saved from having to analyze that question too closely by a disturbance in the living room. A howling screech followed by the frantic scrabbling of claws on wood. Kate ran to the living room. Her mother’s gray angora, Sophie Tucker, crouched in the corner, hissing and snarling. Back hunched defensively, the cat faced the cluttered roll-top desk where Lillian had kept her bills and papers for as long as Kate could remember.

  “What’s the matter Sophie?” Kate reached down, but the cat scrabbled out of reach and hid under the sofa. Kate shrugged and walked toward the desk. The surface was covered with piles of paperwork, every cubbyhole stuffed full with envelopes and invitations and index cards. Lillian had thrived on disorder.

  Her mother’s teacup, which Madam Zostra had insisted she bring home, lay upside down on top of an overflowing pile of papers. Kate vaguely remembered setting it on top of the desk when she’d come in. The cat must have knocked it over and scared herself. Kate reached for the cup, again feeling that same light tingling vibration ripple up her arm when she grasped the handle. It was almost as if the cup was trying to tell her something.

  “What?” Kate cried out, glaring at the cup. “What do you want?”

  Her scream of frustration sent the cat scurrying from the room. Kate lifted the cup, jostling the pile of papers and sending them in a skittering slide across the desk. A slim, buff-colored envelope slid free of the pile. “Last Will and Testament of Lillian E. Feathers” was scrolled across the top in a fancy, gothic script. Kate recognized the name of her mother’s lawyer stamped on the bottom.

  The cup hummed in her hand.

  “Okay. Okay, I got it.” Kate set the now-silent cup back on the desktop and sat down at the desk. She stared at the envelope, then back at the cup. “Fine. I’ll have to do this eventually anyway.” She shook her head and sighed. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

  She read silently. The will was simple and straightforward. Basically, the house and property were to be divided equally between Kate and Jeff, with the request that they keep the business running in her absence. Absence? It sounded as if Lillian was only taking a short vacation.

  There were a few small bequests to neighbors and friends. Kate glanced through the list, smiling. She could hear her mother’s voice quoted amid the legal jargon. “To Bertha Pitt, I leave my secret hothouse chili recipe, since I told her she could have it over my dead body. To Vinny Keppelwhite, I leave the sum of five hundred dollars, if and when he takes down that stupid eyesore of a birdfeeder he made.”

  The list went on and on. It looked as if every soul in Easy would have something to remember Lillian Feathers by. Kate scanned to the end of the document. The balance of her mother’s estate, which was considerable due to some smart financial planning and stock market windfalls, was to be divided equally between Kate and Jeff…and Max?

  “What the hell?” Kate jumped up, sending the chair toppling behind her. “Max Connors? You’ve got to be kidding me,” she shouted at the cup, as if it had an answer for her. Great, now she was yelling at a teacup!

  “We’ll just see about this,” she muttered, to no cup in particular. She shoved the papers into her purse and stormed out the door. Max had some answering to do and by God, she was in just the mood to have it out with him once and for all.

  *

  Max led Outlaw back toward the stable. Sitting atop the gentle horse, his nephew Bobby chattered nonstop to the soft clop of the horse’s hooves on the dry dirt path. Bobby loved riding Outlaw, but more than that, Max knew that the horse’s gentle motions helped improve the boy’s motor skills.

  When Bobby had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy, Max and his sister had studied every article they could get their hands on. A few years ago Max had heard about a new method of treatment for cerebral palsy patients. Hippotherapy, or therapeutic horseback riding, literally meant “treatment with the help of a horse”. According to the reports Max had read, the swinging rhythm of the horse’s gait transferred to the patient’s pelvis in a manner similar to a normal human gait. Hippotherapy improved muscle tone, equilibrium reactions, head and trunk control, coordination and spatial orientation, and was used to improve strength, balance and muscle tone.

  All Max knew was that it made Bobby happy. And that made him happy too.

  They’d started putting Bobby in a special harness and saddle to ride Outlaw for a few minutes a day. The first time they’d gotten Bobby up on the horse, his little face had lit up with a smile of pure wonder. For that reason alone Max continued Bobby’s daily rides. He’d climb a cactus naked for one of his nephew’s smiles.

  In no time at all they’d seen a change in Bobby’s walking. It hadn’t happened overnight, but there was definite improvement. When they’d realized how much riding the horses had helped Bobby, Max and his sister opened the ranch to other disabled kids—a few at first, then more as word spread. Some of the children came from as far away as Phoenix for horse-assisted therapy.

  Soon they’d had more kids than they could handle and they’d had to ask for volunteers. People from all over town answered the call and helped out in any way they could—sidewalking with the children, grooming the horses, cooling them out, cleaning tack. Lillian had been one of those volunteers. She’d taken a special shine to Bobby and the boy missed her terribly.

  Max unbuckled the special harness that allowed Bobby to ride the horse. He lifted the child from Outlaw’s back and swung him in the air. The heavy leg braces nearly doubled the boy’s weight. Bobby wrapped his arms around Max’s neck and giggled.

  “Uncle Max?”

  “Yeah, Champ?”

  “You’re almost as good at this as Miz Lilly.”

  Max helped Bobby out of the protective headgear and tousled his corn-silk hair. “Almost, huh?”

  Bobby crinkled his nose. “Yep, ’cept you don’t smell as good.”

  Max lowered his nephew to the ground and smiled indulgently. “If you worked around horses all day, you wouldn’t smell so good either.”

  “I’m not saying you stink or nothin’,” Bobby said seriously. “It’s just that Miz Lilly always smelled like a birthday party.” He curled his small hand around Max’s. “You know, like cake and ice cream.”

  “You’re right,” Max said, remembering the hint of vanilla that always seemed to follow Lillian. He wasn’t sure if it was a scent she wore, or whether the smells from the Tea and Crumpet Shop had settled into her very pores.

  “Hey, Uncle Max? You think Miz Lilly can see us from up in heaven?”

 
Max raised his eyes skyward and smiled. “Oh, I’m sure she’s keeping an eye on things from up there,” he assured his nephew. “Miz Lilly liked to keep a finger in everyone’s pie, right?”

  Bobby’s face curled up in a thoughtful frown. “Uncle Max?”

  “Yeah, Champ?”

  “If I get to heaven first, I’ll say hello to Miz Lilly for you.”

  Max’s chest tightened and fear gripped his heart, squeezing the breath from his lungs. His heart flipped and tumbled, and it was a moment before he could choke in a breath of dry desert air. “Don’t talk like that, Champ,” he croaked.

  Bobby pursed his mouth, lower lip trembling. “It’s true.”

  “No.” Max stopped and knelt in the dirt, pulling Bobby roughly to his chest. “You’re not gonna die. Hear me?”

  Bobby shrugged. “Been thinking about it since Miz Lilly died. There ain’t no cure for cerebral palsy.”

  That was true. But since Bobby’s diagnosis, Max had become an authority on the disease. “Bobby, the damage that caused you to have cerebral palsy was done a long time ago. Probably before you were born. But it’s not progressive…that means it won’t get any worse.”

  Bobby searched Max’s face, his eyes full of trust.

  “Have I ever lied to you Champ?”

  Bobby shook his head. “Nope.”

  “And I never will,” Max said. “So trust me. You’ll probably live as long as me. And with treatment—like riding Outlaw every day—your condition can improve. You’ll always have to work at keeping your motor skills up, but as long as you do that, it won’t get any worse than it is right now, understand?”

  Bobby nodded, fighting back tears. “Mom doesn’t talk to me about this stuff. She acts like it’s my fault.”

  “Or hers,” Max mumbled. He knew his sister harbored her own share of guilt over what she might have done or not done to cause her only child to be born with a disabling condition. But Bobby was too young to understand the way guilt, whether real or imagined, made a person act irrationally. “You can always talk to your favorite uncle, okay Champ?”

  Bobby grinned. “You’re my only uncle.”

  “Then I’m a shoe-in, huh?”

  Bobby pretended to give the question some thought. “Maybe,” he said, trying to hold back a grin.

  Max raised an eyebrow. “Maybe? Maybe?” Max dug his fingers into Bobby’s ribs, tickling the boy until he squirmed. “Whaddaya mean maybe?”

  Bobby lost it then, breaking out in hysterical giggles. “Okay,” he shouted. “I give up! You’re my favorite uncle.”

  Max released his grip as Bobby collapsed against his chest. Max clutched the boy tight, wishing he could shelter him from the world. “All right then,” he said. “And I don’t want to hear no more foolish talk, okay?”

  “Okay,” Bobby agreed, wiping his eyes. Then more quietly, “I love you Uncle Max.”

  Max swallowed hard over a lump in his throat. “I love you too, Champ. I love you too.”

  Chapter Five

  Even after all this time, Kate still knew the way to Max’s ranch. How could she forget the place she’d left her heart so long ago?

  Her first glance of the TripleR ranch came as a shock. Time hadn’t been kind to the cattle farm. The once-grand main house had an air of gently fading dignity. In the distance she could see a vacant barn scarred by fire, but battered more by time and neglect.

  Kate knew from her mother’s letters that the steadily falling price of beef over the years had hurt many local ranchers. Most were losing money on every head of cattle they sold and had to lay off hands and sell acres a little at a time in order to survive.

  The TripleR no longer bustled with activity. It seemed to be slowly vanishing into a distant memory of itself, like a sepia photograph fading with time.

  Kate hardened her heart. It was obvious the money from her mother’s will would go a long way toward helping the TripleR regain some of its glory, but she wouldn’t let Max’s financial plight allow him to take advantage of her mother’s generosity, however misplaced.

  As soon as Kate pulled onto the dirt road leading to the main house, she spotted Max mending fences out at the corral. The brim of his hat cast cool shadows over his face. Ten years in the city and Kate still couldn’t shake the feeling that a man wasn’t completely dressed without a Stetson.

  She watched him from the safety of her car, each movement sure and smooth, taking as much care with the weathered planks of the corral as he had with the delicately carved moldings of Lillian’s pantry cupboards. Then, as if sensing the heat of her gaze, he looked up, tipped the brim of his Stetson back and stared across the field toward her. She felt a jolt ripple through her body, as if he’d physically reached out and touched her.

  He straightened and turned in her direction, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans in a casual stance that belied the strength and power of lean, corded muscles beneath taut denim. His body language seemed to dare her to come to him, to make the first move. He seemed prepared to wait forever if he had to, as if warning her with his silent challenge that she was on his turf now.

  Struggling to hold onto her anger, Kate stepped out of the car. The desert air was hot, dry and dusty, yet her skin felt clammy. Max leaned back against the fence rail and crossed his arms over his chest. His image wavered in the shimmering heat of the Arizona sun. The distance between them could have been measured in miles rather than yards. Kate wanted to turn and get back in her car, the desire to run away as strong now as it had been then.

  No. Not again. She was through running from her past.

  The first step was the hardest, but momentum carried her the rest of the way. She leaned forward, her head held high, chin thrust forward in defiance. As she drew closer, she tried to read the expression on Max’s face, but it was an impenetrable mask.

  Then he spoke, that slow, sexy drawl turning her to jelly inside. “Watch where you step, city girl.”

  She jerked to a stop and looked down at the ground. When he gave a quick snort of derision, she realized it had been a test—and she’d failed.

  “Don’t call me that,” she grumbled. But he’d already broken her momentum and she stood rooted to the spot.

  “City girl? Why not? Isn’t that what you are now?” He gave her a slow, insolent assessment from head to toe, the curl of his lips saying just exactly what he thought of “city girls”.

  The cocky look on his face infuriated her. Ten years of suppressed anger seethed inside her, making her stomach churn. She’d lost everything because of him—her dreams, her scholarship and her reputation.

  And still, after all this time, she couldn’t confront him, couldn’t vent the anger she’d kept bottled up inside. Not for herself and not for the innocent teenager she’d been so long ago.

  But what she couldn’t do for herself, she could find the strength to do in order to defend her mother. She stood up straight, challenging his insolence with her own righteous anger.

  “So,” she said, gesturing to take in the barns and fields. “Which are you? A rancher or a carpenter?”

  He tilted his head, giving her a quizzical stare. “I do a lot of things.”

  “Oh? And just what did you do to weasel your way into my mother’s will?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” she challenged, stepping closer. “Obviously you took advantage of her somehow.”

  “Took advantage, huh?” He seemed to chew on the words, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

  Kate took no heed of the warning in his voice. She continued her rampage, poking a finger at his chest. “First you milked her for those fancy cabinets then you talked her into putting you into her will. God only knows what else you got out of her before then. What’s your con, Max?”

  “Con.” He repeated the word as if it was foreign to him, nodding his head slowly. He looked at her, hurt and disappointment evident in his eyes. “You think I conned your mother out of her money.” It was a statemen
t rather than a question.

  “Yes.” But her voice faltered on the word. “Why else would she leave you a third of her estate?”

  The statement seemed to surprise him. Either that or he was a better actor than she gave him credit for. Surely he knew just how much his share of the estate amounted to. Her mother had invested wisely, and the business was doing better than Kate ever could have imagined. Max had schemed his way into a nice chunk of money and she was determined to find out how.

  “I could tell you why,” he said. “But you wouldn’t believe me, would you? Never have, never will.”

  Kate bristled at his tone of voice. Why should she? She’d learned her lesson a long time ago. Believing in Max had nearly been her undoing.

  He shook his head. “You’ve changed, Kitty. You’re not the same girl I used to know.”

  Anger stiffened her spine. “Yeah, I’ve changed. I’m not gullible anymore. I can’t be charmed with smooth talk and pretty words and then…”

  Kate stopped. This wasn’t about her or what had happened between the two of them. It was about her mother and the money Max stood to inherit.

  “And then…?” Max tipped his head, waiting for her to finish.

  Kate shook her head, fighting back tears. Damn him! Why did it still hurt after all this time? She stood her ground. She’d run once before. But not this time. She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “That’s water under the bridge.”

  “I don’t think it is,” Max said. “You come storming out here sore as a rained-on rooster, accusing me of taking advantage of one of the sweetest ladies I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. You look at me with those big hurt eyes of yours like I’m some kind of monster. Come on, Kitty. You know me better than that. What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”

  Kate trembled. How could he look at her that way? Like he was the injured party?