The Trail Home

by Bonnie Bryant

  But thinking about horses made her think about her job, which she loved, and the horses she cared for there, and her interesting new friends.…

  It was all too much to think about so early in the day. Lisa stood and pushed back her chair, balancing Lily on one hip. “Here you go, baby,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage. “Time to go back to Mommy. Your big sister has to go.”

  As she climbed out of the small red car her father had gotten her for the summer, Lisa heard someone shout her name. She looked up and saw her favorite cameraman waving enthusiastically from the back of his pickup truck, where he was lounging with a tall take-out cup of coffee and the morning paper. Lisa grinned and waved back.

  Then she glanced around, still a little bit amazed that this was actually where she worked. It still seemed like a dream sometimes, especially on mornings like this one when the early sun filtered through scattered clouds and left a golden, dappled pattern on everything. One side of the small, dusty parking lot was lined with paddocks. The other opened onto a shaded picnic area, behind which lay the large metal trailers that served as the actors’ private changing rooms, rest areas, and offices. Straight ahead, the landscape featured gently rolling fields dotted with an occasional building or piece of television equipment, with rugged foothills rising sharply behind.

  With a quick wave to a couple of actors who had just arrived and were heading in the opposite direction, Lisa turned right, heading for the stable area. She had accompanied Skye to studios and sets for a few other TV series during the summer, so she knew that the Paradise Ranch set was somewhat unusual. Instead of being housed in a huge, warehouselike building on a studio lot, it was more like a perpetual location shoot. The actors spent some time shooting interior scenes on a soundstage a few miles down the road, but since much of the show took place outdoors, their true home was this dozen or so acres in the foothills of the mountains that bordered Los Angeles, which stood in for the fictional thousand-acre Western guest ranch on which the show centered. The set designers had erected a full-scale post-and-beam farmhouse, several smaller guest cabins, a barn and other outbuildings, as well as marking out areas that represented more farflung parts of the imaginary ranch. Lisa hardly even noticed anymore that the main house was only a few yards from the campsite, though they were supposed to be miles apart, or that the ranch’s huge cedar barn had only half a roof and no eastern wall, leaving plenty of space for cameras.

  Yes, the set was an interesting place, and Lisa learned fascinating new facts about TV production almost every time she wandered around it. But she had to admit that her favorite spot, as always, was the stable. Unlike the carefully designed buildings that would be seen on the show every week, the stable was a purely functional space. What everyone on the set referred to as the stable was actually a series of long, low, tin-roofed buildings, each containing a row of box stalls overlooking a wide, dusty aisle. A number of paddocks and a spacious, grassy turnout field filled the area between the stable and the two-lane road running past the set.

  As Lisa hurried down the path leading to the stable area, she saw a small herd of horses grazing in the big field and several others in the smaller paddocks. That gave her a pretty good idea of the day’s schedule, but she glanced at the bulletin board outside the first building to make sure there would be no surprises. Then she set about the familiar tasks involved in keeping several dozen horses fed, watered, groomed, and happy.

  Lisa was busy applying hoof oil to the left fore of a pretty chestnut mare named Fancy when Skye Ransom stuck his head over the half door of the stall. “Oh, there you are, Lisa.”

  Lisa glanced up. As a loyal friend, she thought Skye looked as handsome as ever, though she guessed some of his fans would do a double take if they saw him right then. There were smudges of greenish goo dabbed on several small blemishes on his chin, and a large orange barrette was clamped firmly over the cowlick that constantly frustrated the stylists in charge of taming the young actor’s thick blond hair.

  As usual, Skye seemed oblivious of how he looked. Unlike some of the other actors working on the show, he never hesitated to wander the set in disarray as long as there were no cameras around to record it. Skye wasn’t vain, but he cared about his career. “I wanted to give you some warning,” he told Lisa. “The director just told me my first scene today will be the campfire scene. It won’t be for a few hours, obviously, because of the light, but …”

  “But between now and then we have to make sure Topsy looks like he’s spent the day on the trail,” Lisa finished for him. “Got it.”

  Skye smiled and leaned on the half door. “What did we ever do around here without you? When I recommended you for this job it was because I knew you were good with horses. Who knew you’d turn out to be a natural in this whole TV thing, too?” He winked slyly. “And I’m not the only one who thinks so. I overheard Rick telling the director you’re the best assistant he’s ever had.”

  Lisa wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She could feel herself blushing. She liked her boss, Rick Santos, and she was pretty sure he appreciated her work. But Rick was a man of few words, so he hadn’t actually told her so. “Thanks,” she told Skye. “It’s easy to do a good job when the work is so much fun. And don’t worry about Topsy. By the time he goes in front of the cameras, he’ll look as though he spent the day loping along a dusty trail instead of lounging in his stall.”

  “Thanks, Lisa. I’d better go—I barely glanced at today’s lines last night after we all left the pizza place, so I have to get cracking. I’ll see you later, okay?” Skye reached over the door and gave Lisa’s shoulder a brief squeeze before hurrying off in the direction of his trailer. Even after he had gone, Lisa could still feel the pressure of his hand. She shrugged it off. She and Skye were just friends, no matter what Alex thought. Friends—exactly as they had always been.

  She frowned as she thought about the e-mail she had received from Alex the night before. Thinking of you all the time, it had read. Hope you’re thinking of me, too, especially when you’re looking at the Sky.

  Lisa had tried to tell herself that the capitalization had been an innocent typo. After all, she and Alex had agreed before she left that each of them would look up at the sky each evening at the same time as a way of feeling connected to each other—the same moon, the same stars linking them together across the miles.

  But Lisa knew that Alex was jealous of her relationship with Skye. In some ways, she supposed she couldn’t blame him. Skye was gorgeous, he was famous, he was wealthy. Still, Alex was the only one she loved. Why couldn’t he trust her on that? Some of his comments and questions about Skye could be … well, more than a little immature.

  “Lisa?” a tentative voice interrupted her thoughts. “Is Fancy ready? I want to practice that rope trick I have to do today before everyone gets here to watch me mess it up.”

  Lisa started, realizing how ridiculous she must look staring blankly into space, hoof brush in hand, as Fancy nibbled at her shoulder. Luckily the young woman outside the stall hadn’t noticed. Summer Kirke didn’t notice much that other people did when she was concentrating on her own worries, as she obviously was at the moment.

  When she’d first met her, Lisa hadn’t thought she would like Summer very much. A large part of the reason had been simple envy. Lisa was sure she had never seen anyone as flawlessly gorgeous as Summer. The young actress played Skye’s older sister on the show, and there was some resemblance in the two actors’ sunny blond hair and blue eyes. But where Skye’s handsome, expressive face had matured in the years that Lisa had known him from that of a boyish teen idol into something stronger, more chiseled and self-assured, Summer’s face still retained the rounded edges and smooth, soft innocence of childhood.

  If there was one lesson Lisa had learned quickly about the world of make-believe that was the entertainment industry, it was that things weren’t always what they seemed. Skye might be a lot like Devon Drake, the charming, easygoing, lovable young heartbreaker he
played on Paradise Ranch, but Summer bore almost no resemblance to Devon’s confident, conniving sister Caidin Drake. Somehow on camera, though, it all seemed to work.

  “Almost, Summer,” Lisa said to the young actress. “I can have Fancy ready in about twenty minutes. Is that soon enough?”

  Summer brushed a stray strand of golden blond hair off her cheek and nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Lisa. That will be perfect.” She smiled, but as she turned to look at the horse, Lisa spotted her lower lip quivering slightly.

  Lisa recognized the sign. It meant that Summer was worried or upset about something. She also knew that almost anything could set Summer off. She would burst into tears if her hair didn’t look just right, and she practically had hysterics if the director made the mistake of correcting her too sharply. On more than one occasion, even Lisa had been forced to soothe the excitable, hypersensitive actress and assure her once again that she shouldn’t take it personally when Fancy misbehaved or one of the other horses put its ears back while looking in her general direction. She was pretty sure that Summer understood intellectually that the horses weren’t being purposely mean. But emotionally she had a harder time believing it.

  Still, this time Summer’s expression worried Lisa. Her lovely, almond-shaped eyes, perfectly framed by long lashes, held an odd expression.…

  Haunted, Lisa thought. She couldn’t help being concerned. In many ways Summer seemed more vulnerable than baby Lily.

  “Summer, is everything all—”

  “Yo! Lisa!” a voice bellowed.

  Lisa bit back an annoyed sigh as she turned to face the newcomer. “Hello, Jeremiah.”

  Even with everything she knew about him, Lisa had to admit that Jeremiah Jamison was incredibly good-looking. He had the kind of face that made girls all over the world swoon. Deep brown eyes, straight white teeth, thick black hair, and something more, too—a vulnerable, idealistic, deeply soulful expression that cried out for caring and compassion.

  Lisa knew better. The only thing Jeremiah cared about was himself. The only compassion he felt was for anyone or anything that could forward his career.

  “Do you mind?” Jeremiah gave Summer a dismissive glance. The young woman lowered her eyes and scurried away.

  Lisa frowned. She wanted to tell Jeremiah off for his rudeness. She and Summer had been in the middle of a conversation, and he had interrupted, as usual. But she held back, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Quite the contrary, in fact. Jeremiah’s quick and nasty temper was infamous around the set, and Lisa had learned the hard way that it was a lot easier just to keep him happy. Easier on her, easier on the horses, easier on the director, easier on everyone.

  It’s ironic, Lisa thought, listening with half her attention as Jeremiah reeled off a long list of orders concerning his horse, a well-behaved gelding named Jeeves. Practically any teenage girl in the country—including Stevie or Carole—would trade her left eyeball for the chance to breathe the same air as Jeremiah Jamison. And here I am wishing he’d just go away and leave me alone! She almost laughed at the thought. But again, she controlled herself. If there was one thing Jeremiah hated more than being contradicted, it was being laughed at.

  “Okay, Jeremiah,” she said instead as the list of demands ended. “You know you can count on me. I’ll have Jeeves ready in plenty of time. Don’t worry.”

  “Good.” Jeremiah nodded curtly, then turned and strode away.

  Lisa finally let out her sigh of annoyance as she watched him retreat down the stable row. After two months of working with him, she had a hard time believing that most of the world still believed, as she once had, that Jeremiah Jamison was a kind, romantic, sensitive soul. Once Paradise Ranch came on the air, that reputation would be even stronger, since he played one of the show’s most sympathetic characters, Devon Drake’s best friend and resident do-gooder Rand Hayden.

  “I hope his publicist is getting paid a lot,” she muttered to Fancy, who had stuck her head out into the aisle to see what was going on. Lisa patted the pretty mare on her smooth cheek. “He deserves it.”

  “Talking to the stock again, Lisa?” a gruff voice said nearby.

  Lisa gasped, startled, and whirled to face her boss, Rick Santos. “Fancy was just telling me all about her life as a TV star,” she joked weakly.

  “Right,” Rick drawled. He leaned against a nearby post and hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his well-worn jeans. Then he shrugged casually. “I thought maybe she was telling you how much she’ll miss you when you abandon us next week.”

  “Week after next,” Lisa corrected automatically. Then she paused, realizing that Rick had just given her what passed, with him, as a high compliment. Not only had he acknowledged that she was leaving soon, but he had implied that it would be a bad thing. “I’ll miss her, too. And everybody else around here.”

  Rick’s dark eyes were shaded by the brim of his ever-present battered Western hat, but the corner of his mouth turned up in a nearly imperceptible smile. “Back atcha, kid.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I wanted to say something. I gave you a shot at this job because Ransom asked me to and because I really needed someone. But you’ve proved you deserved it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re young, but you know what you’re doing. With horses and people.” Rick gave a quick nod, then stood up straight. “I just want you to know I appreciate it. And that Fancy there isn’t the only one who’ll miss you. You may just be the best stable hand I’ve ever hired.”

  Lisa smiled and thanked him again. She ran one hand through her hair as Rick hurried off in the direction of the tack shed. Her boss’s words had made her feel great, and not just because he was stingy with compliments. Lisa liked being the best. She had always been that way, which explained her nearly perfect grades and other accomplishments.

  But when it came to horses, things were a bit different. At the stable in Virginia, Lisa thought, she didn’t get to feel like the best very often. She was always second or third in line behind Carole and Stevie because that was the way it had always been, because they had been riding longer than she had. Nobody except Lisa herself seemed to have noticed that she really wasn’t playing catchup anymore.

  Lisa bit her lip, feeling slightly disloyal. Carole and Stevie were her best friends, and they knew she was a good rider. What did it matter who was better at one thing or another? What kind of a person was she for envying their riding abilities?

  Fancy nudged her shoulder, and Lisa stroked the mare’s velvety nose. “This seems to be my day for conflicting, messed-up thoughts,” she whispered.

  Still, after pondering her weird feelings all morning, Lisa had reached a conclusion of sorts. Yes, she missed her mother, her friends, and Alex terribly. But she had to admit that what she had told her father that morning was true. She wasn’t quite ready for her wonderful, new, exciting California adventure to end. She didn’t know what that meant, but it was true.

  “What do you think, Fancy?” Lisa murmured, burying her face in the mare’s neck and breathing in the familiar, soothing smell of horse. “Does that make me a horrible person?”

  TWO

  Carole Hanson glanced at Ben Marlow, Pine Hollow’s youngest full-time stable hand. “She looks good. Want to try her at a trot?” She shaded her eyes against the hazy summer sunshine.

  Ben nodded. He tossed his head to get his dark, wavy hair out of his eyes, then broke into an easy jog, clucking to the mare at the other end of the lead line he was holding. The mare, a young dapple gray named Firefly, responded with a snort, swinging easily from a walk into a spirited trot.

  Carole leaned on the fence of Pine Hollow’s outdoor ring, watching the horse critically, paying special attention to her feet. The blacksmith had visited earlier that morning to shoe this latest addition to the stable, and Carole wanted to be sure there were no problems with Firefly’s new footwear.

  “That’s right, girl,” she murmured, her eyes trained on the horse’s feet. “All four, square on the ground. That�
�s the way.”

  Once she had assured herself that the new shoes were fine, Carole allowed herself simply to watch the mare enjoying her exercise. Firefly tossed her head and snorted as she trotted, showing signs of wanting to go faster. But she maintained her pace obediently, her finely shaped head remaining steady above Ben’s broad right shoulder.

  After a few minutes, Ben stopped the mare and gave her a pat on the withers. “I think she liked that.” Carole noticed that he didn’t sound the least bit winded from his own exercise in the hot sun.

  “Definitely.” Carole approached, smiling. “She’s quite a horse, isn’t she? I’m glad Max bought her. He wasn’t going to because she was so expensive—you know, because her sire is that show-jumping champion. But if you ask me, she was worth every penny. She’s positively gorgeous!”

  “Sure.” Ben flicked his fingers at a fly on Firefly’s neck. “She’s well bred and she’s flashy, but she’s still raw. We’ll have to do some serious training if we really want Max to get his money’s worth out of her.”

  Carole felt herself blushing, realizing that to Ben, her words had probably made her sound like an overexcited schoolgirl. “Right,” she said briskly. “That’s what I was going to say. I even have some ideas about how to get started. I haven’t run them by Max yet, but I know he wants us to get right to work with her and …”

  I’m babbling and I can’t shut up, Carole thought desperately. She tended to do that when she was around Ben. Especially when he stared at her blankly the way he was doing just then …

  If asked, Carole would have said that she and Ben were friends, bound together by their common, overwhelming love of horses. But sometimes she had to admit that this intense, serious guy was as much a mystery to her now as he had been on his first day at Pine Hollow. Most of the time, when they were working together around the stable, she felt perfectly comfortable with him. But there were other times when he would do or say something—or just give her a certain look with those brooding dark eyes—and leave her completely flustered and confused.