by Jeannie Watt
He really, really wished he’d done as Skip had asked two years ago.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TY WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING feeling a deep need to be alone. His knee was nowhere near one hundred percent, but he’d taped it under the brace and he could run the tractor if he had to. And if he was quiet about it, he might get out into the field before Madeline showed up.
He’d just started the beast, with Alvin in position on the trailer, when the door near the generator opened and Madeline came in, wearing the coveralls.“I can handle the tractor,” Ty said, more dismissively than he’d intended. Yesterday had had enough unsettling contact for a while.
“Then I’ll throw the hay.”
“You’re not getting it, Madeline. My knee is better. I can feed alone.”
“No doubt.” She leveled a look at him that she probably used to melt uncooperative students.
What the hell. He’d come to the conclusion last night that he didn’t deserve things to be easier.
Ty got out of the driver’s seat and climbed back off the tractor, grimacing slightly when he banged his knee on the oversize fender.
Madeline flinched emphatically, but said nothing as she took his place in the seat. Ty headed out the door to the big haystack under the roof, walking as normally as possible with the stiff brace on his leg. Madeline followed with the tractor. Alvin barked away, apparently unconcerned as to who was driving, as long as the trailer moved.
Again Madeline helped load hay, and again Ty knew that his knee was better off because of her help. She said nothing, apparently finally understanding that he wasn’t going to talk. Either that or she was biding her time. When she pointed the tractor toward the gate Ty felt himself relax an iota.
Okay, so far, so good. He could do this.
Once they were done and Madeline maneuvered the tractor back onto the road leading between pastures, Ty assumed his spot on the running board, almost as if to prove to himself that he could be close to her and not react. She glanced over at him and said, “Do you mind if I open her up?”
“Uh…” Ty grabbed the back of the seat as Madeline cranked the throttle. She laughed as the tractor picked up speed, and Ty watched her in profile with more fascination that he wanted to feel. This was the second time she’d done this.
“How fast does it go?”
“You’re about topped out,” he yelled over the wind. Topped out for the gear she was in, that is, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Didn’t want her putting them into Overdrive.
Madeline shot a sideways look at him, smiling with the sheer joy of the moment, and his heart gave a slight bump.
Shit. This was bad.
“Slow down, Madeline.”
“Am I scaring you?”
“Yes,” he said honestly. But not in the way she thought.
“Oh.” She let up on the throttle and the tractor slowed to a feeding-speed crawl. The accident. She thought he was thinking about the accident.
He leaned closer so he didn’t have to yell, which was a mistake because she smelled very, very good. Lemon mixed with flowers. “I’m not really scared, but I do have a pen of hungry bulls and horses to feed.”
“Fine.” She gave the tractor a bit more gas, but the reckless abandonment was gone. Good. He wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.
Give a woman a tractor and she goes wild. Go figure.
IT WAS RELATIVELY WARM, in the high thirties, so Madeline pulled off her stocking cap and shook out her hair. The cap smelled of exhaust, so she stuffed it into her oversize pocket. She’d wash it in the sink before feeding again.
“I meant to tell you yesterday that you were right about the overalls,” she said to Ty, who automatically reached out to give her a hand getting off the tractor, then instantly released her once her feet were on the earthen barn floor.“Coveralls,” he corrected as he started walking toward the wide door they’d just driven through. Alvin leaped off the trailer and followed. The way he’d been guarding the thing, Madeline had wondered if Ty would have to coax the dog off.
“There’s a difference?” she asked, catching up with him, which wasn’t easy because of all the excess fabric she was dealing with.
“Overalls have straps, but no sleeves. Not as warm.”
“I’ll remember that. Do you wear overalls in the summer?”
He shot her a yeah-right look.
“Just curious.” They stopped at the haystack, where the snow still showed evidence of Ty’s collapse the previous day. He rolled back the tarp and used the hay hooks, which looked a lot like Captain Hook’s prosthetic device, to pull two bales down. Then he cut the strings.
“Carry what you can to the manger and try to find an open spot to toss it in.”
“Open spot?”
“You’ll see what I mean when you get there.” He stabbed the hooks back into the hay and left them hanging, then began to tie the tarp back down.
Madeline lifted an armload of hay. The bulls immediately crowded the feeder in a most intimidating way and, yes, she did understand now about a clear spot. As she stood uncertainly, trying to figure out how to throw the hay without it hitting an animal’s head, Ty came up behind her and expertly tossed a few flakes over the fence and into the far end.
The bulls followed the hay and Madeline set her load in the closer, much less crowded end. “I see you need an arm for this.”
“And height, to make it over the fence.”
“You wouldn’t be foolish enough to call me short, would you?”
He smiled, then seemed to remember himself. “I can feed the horses alone,” he told her. “It’s cold. Why don’t you get on inside and warm up?”
“I’ll go with you. I’d like to see Gabby.” Skip’s horse, which was her horse now.
Ty’s gaze shifted. “Gabby’s not here.”
“Where is she?”
“I loaned her to a kid for a 4-H project. She’s super gentle and the kid isn’t all that comfortable with horses, so…” he shrugged “…I saw the want ad in the post office and offered Gabby. I probably should have contacted you first.”
“That’s fine. I’m glad she’s being used.”
They started walking side by side through the snow toward the horse corral and another stack of hay. Madeline slid on an icy patch in the snow and Ty reached out, but missed her as she went down. Snow trickled down her collar, bringing back childhood memories. Big hands hauled her up out of the snow, then Ty stepped back as she dusted herself off.
“I didn’t recoil,” he said solemnly. “You just went down too fast.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She started for the corral again and Ty fell into step. “You probably reached out, then quickly pulled your hands back.” She caught his brief smile.
“What’s that building there?” she asked, pointing to the shed with the padlock.
“Workshop,” Ty replied shortly, making her think it was a sore spot.
“Why is it locked?” Madeline asked.
“There’s stuff in there I don’t want stolen.”
“Without sounding…cold-blooded, is it your stuff or ranch stuff?”
“My stuff.”
“I’m not trying to pry into your private affairs.”
“I know.” He didn’t look at her, but instead moved ahead and started undoing the bungees that held the hay tarp in place. “And I’m not trying to be secretive. I used to make things out of silver. I haven’t done it in a while.”
“What kind of things?”
“Belt buckles. Spurs. Bits.”
“Skip never said anything about that.” But after he’d figured out that his family wasn’t thrilled with his new occupation, he didn’t communicate as many personal things with them as he once had. Another of her regrets.
“Too busy?”
“I don’t feel like silversmithing right now.” His tone was blunt, colder than before. His shields were going up.
He started carrying hay and tossing it over the fence. There were only two hors
es, so Madeline stood back and let him do his job.
“Well, maybe one of these days.”
“Yeah.” He fastened the tarp in place. “I hear my lifestyle might be changing soon. Maybe I’ll have more free time.”
GOOD WAY TO THROW a bucket of ice water on a conversation that was actually working between the two of them. He had to stop allowing himself to be pulled in a direction he couldn’t go.
“Yes. Maybe,” Madeline replied. “Ty…” She seemed for once to be at a loss for words. Then she gave a small shake of her head and said, “I think I’ll go back to my house. It’s getting cold.”He watched her walk away, feeling regret mixed with relief. This had been his objective, breathing room, but it had been a while since he’d had an actual conversation with someone that wasn’t related to cows and that lasted for more than a couple of minutes. He’d talked. She’d talked.
That was what people did. They had conversations. He’d been alone for so long that doing what was perfectly normal to others felt foreign to him.
How healthy was that?
He didn’t know, didn’t care. He’d survive. He seemed to have a knack for that.
He fed the cow in the barn, then headed out the door next to his former workshop, pausing before he passed it on his way to the equipment shed.
The padlock was encased in frost.
When was the last time he’d opened it?
TY DIDN’T SEE MADELINE for the rest of the morning. She stayed in her house; he tended to servicing the tractor. Alvin trotted toward the house when he was done, knowing the routine—chores, lunch and then paperwork. Ty wasn’t up for writing grants, but the deadline was approaching fast.
He was just opening his back door when Sam turned into the driveway, pulling the vet truck up next to Madeline’s car a few minutes later.“I’m between calls and thought I’d see how the cow’s doing.” Sam indicated the little car with a jerk of his head. “I guess your partner made it back the other day?”
“Yes, she did,” Ty said drily. The two men fell into step as they crossed the yard to the barn.
“Still driving you crazy?”
Ty nodded. He didn’t want to go into it.
“How is she?” Sam asked. “The cow, I mean.”
“The same.”
“Too bad. She’s a nice-looking animal.” Sam reached down to pet Alvin while Ty unlatched the door.
Sam checked the cow over, then stood back. “Give her a little more time. I have enough medication in the truck for another week if you want.”
“I want.” He liked this cow.
Madeline was digging around in her trunk when Ty latched the barn door.
“I think you’re about to meet my partner,” he said.
“Mmm-hmm,” Sam agreed.
Ty wondered if Madeline had thought about their conversation that morning as much as he had, and had come to the conclusion that he was a jerk, and decided to keep her distance. Not likely, knowing Madeline, but if she had, it would make things simpler.
She pulled out a tote bag and then pushed the trunk closed. She hadn’t bothered with a jacket and the red sweater hugged her body, emphasizing the area that Ty had gotten a glimpse of after the mouse incident. The hair around her face was wavier than usual, making her appear soft, approachable. Appearances could be deceiving, Ty thought.
“Hi,” she said to Sam before either guy could speak. “You must be the man who belongs to this truck.” She smiled at Sam as if he was an old friend, and offered a hand. Ty blinked.
“Hi,” Sam echoed, taking her extended hand briefly, and returning her smile in a way that made Ty want to remind him that he was happily married. “Sam Hyatt.”
“Madeline Blaine. I’m Skip’s sister.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sam’s tone was both amused and sincere. Ty was struck by how he felt remarkably territorial.
What the hell?
“Sam’s our vet,” Ty said in a clipped voice. The red flags popping up in his brain didn’t keep him from emphasizing the word our.
Madeline gave him a look, then turned back to Sam. “How’s the cow?”
“If she doesn’t start using her hindquarters in the next week, not good, I’m afraid.”
“Do you hang many cows?”
Sam grinned crookedly. “Only the bad ones.”
Madeline smiled at his poor joke, even though the subject wasn’t all that funny. “I’ve got some things to attend to. Nice meeting you, Sam.”
When Madeline disappeared into her house, tote bag in hand, Sam didn’t say a word. Ty shifted his weight.
“Your partner is a nice-looking woman,” Sam finally ventured.
Ty nodded.
“I’d better get going to my next call.”
“Thanks for coming by.” Ty shoved his hands into his pockets.
“No problem,” Sam replied wryly. “See you in about a week.”
ODDLY, MADELINE—who hated distractions of any kind while working—seemed to write very productively whenever Ty irritated her. This was the second time it had happened, and if she continued at this rate, she’d have the memoir done before she left.
Just thinking about him glowering at her, as if he wished she was anywhere but here, on the property she half owned, sent her fingers flying over the keys.They’d had a decent morning, right up until he’d shut down. She could make allowances for the fact that she might trigger memories of Skip and the accident, but when she saw him later with the vet, it had felt like something else. As if he’d tried to fake civility that morning and had discovered he just couldn’t do it, and he wasn’t going to try any longer.
It felt personal.
It shouldn’t bother you. She stabbed the save button and closed the chapter she’d finished.
But it did. A week ago it wouldn’t have, but today…today it annoyed the heck out of her. He might be hurting, but she had to work with this guy. Be his partner. They needed some ground rules.
She worked through most of the afternoon, turning the generator off after lunch and switching over to longhand to save fuel. She felt a degree of satisfaction when she finally tidied her notes into a stack. Tonight she’d transcribe onto her netbook and email it to herself. No. Scratch that. She’d back up to a JumpDrive.
Being cut off from services she’d taken for granted up until now took some getting used to, but she was getting better. In a way it was relaxing to know she wasn’t going to get interrupted by a call right when a brilliant thought struck her. Or that she wouldn’t be tempted to call her lawyer, just because. She’d worked so hard to get to where she was that the thought of leaving in disgrace…
She had to quit thinking so much.
About an hour before dark, Madeline left her toasty-warm house to turn on the generator. The barn was quiet when she stepped inside. Ty wasn’t there, so Madeline went to check on the patient before starting the noisy machine.
The cow turned her head and blinked as Madeline approached. The manger was empty, and the animal looked bored. Madeline dumped in another armload of hay and the cow plunged her nose in.
“You’d better start thinking positive healing thoughts,” she said softly, reaching out to touch the animal’s neck. The hair was more bristly than Madeline had expected. She brought her hand up to her nose. Her fingers smelled of warm, musky animal.
The door at the far end of the barn scraped open and Madeline stepped back from the cow, her pulse rate jumping. A few seconds later Ty came around the haystack, stopping when he saw her.
“I didn’t know you were here,” he said as he started toward the manger again. Madeline clenched her teeth at his flat, dismissive tone.
“I fed her,” she said to his back. “I can do that. She’s half mine, you know.”
Ty turned. She stood, arms folded over her chest, her weight on one leg, and his hands dropped loosely to his sides in a resigned gesture. He obviously recognized a woman with something to say.
“Our relationship is complex,” she began, stating the obv
ious.
“True,” he said with no change in expression.
“I know your life is different since I’ve arrived, but the truth of the matter is that I could live here forever if I so chose.”
Did he just go pale?
“You could,” he allowed cautiously. “But you don’t belong here, Maddie.”
She shook her head, even though his statement was for all intents and purposes true. “No. You don’t want me here. We’ve established that. But being short-tempered and glowering at me isn’t going to make me leave. Maybe we’ll never be friends, but we need a truce. A full-time truce.”
Ty cocked his head. “Okay. I’m guilty of being short-tempered, but glowering?” he said, ignoring her last statement. “What the hell’s that? Something I do after recoiling?”
“You know, like today when I was talking to the vet? And you wanted me to disappear to the other side of the planet?”
For a moment she thought he was going to disagree with her, but he didn’t.
“Things have been different since you’ve been here,” he admitted. “And we didn’t start off well.”
“I know,” she said softly. “The accusations I made against you when I first came…I apologize. They were unfounded.”
Ty regarded her silently. Madeline forged on. “But we have had a few friendly moments. I would really like it if we could have more and maintain a civil relationship…without the aid of Amuma. For the business partnership, if nothing else.”
Ty glanced over her shoulder at the cow behind her, as if looking for a hint from the animal. “You’re right.” He spoke without emotion even though his gaze was intent. “We can maintain a civil relationship. For the sake of the partnership. Without wine.” He shifted his weight slightly and added, “And I’ll accept your apology, if you accept mine.”
She held out a hand in way of an answer, and he took it, his fingers warm and firm on hers. His touch felt as good as she’d thought it would.
The pressure of his fingers increased before he let go. She instantly missed the warmth of his weather-roughened skin on hers. Ty looked at the cow again, then back at her, giving the impression of a man who needed to escape.
