Huckleberry Lake

by Catherine Anderson

  As that thought meandered through Erin’s sleepy brain, she blinked wide awake and sat up in bed, suddenly seeing so many similarities between herself and the mare that she was appalled. Erin’s father had been impossible to please. In order to gain his approval, she had struggled to attain perfection at anything he wanted her to master, but once she achieved that goal, he only set her a new one. And though he’d never physically punished her for failing at a new assignment, he’d always acted disappointed in her. For Erin, that had hurt as much as, if not more than, any physical blow ever could. She’d yearned for her dad to tell her how proud he was of her. Only no matter how well she performed, she never got that praise. He just set the bar higher.

  Resting her shoulders against the headboard, Erin stared at a patch of moonlight on the bedroom wall and mentally moved forward in time to the present. Now, even as an adult, she was still reacting mindlessly to her father’s expectations. She also imagined everyone around her was judging her and being critical of her, just as her father had once been. Even worse, she was slipping into top-performance mode so that nobody could criticize her or look down on her. It wasn’t so much that she felt a need to compete with the men on this ranch. She just wanted to show them that she could work as hard as they could. Correction. What she wanted had little or nothing to do with it. She needed to show them that she was as good as they were, just as she’d always needed to show her dad that she was just as good as any boy.

  A memory flashed in Erin’s mind of when she’d begun to develop at age twelve. She’d stood in front of a mirror, looking at her budding breasts and crying, because she knew boys didn’t have them and her father would therefore hate them. In a twinkling, Erin came face-to-face with so many truths that she’d been avoiding. As a young child, she had started to hate her body because her father had hated it, and now, as an adult, she still felt embarrassed when people saw certain parts of her, like the day she’d removed her shirt and Wyatt had walked up. She’d been ashamed for him to see her shoulders and arms, not because they were feminine, but because she’d worked at the gym to pack them with as much muscle as she could without taking steroids. She’d been afraid he would think she looked too masculine, and yet, at the opposite end of the spectrum, she had dieted and worked out like a fiend to have a muscular physique.

  Erin closed her eyes and let her head thump against the carved wood that supported her back. She was so screwed up, and her mind was swimming with revelations she’d never been able to see until now. Oh, God. Unlike the mare, she didn’t threaten people and prance around to show off her muscle, but she did push herself to perform beyond her ability to impress the men around her. And just like during her childhood, she hadn’t gotten the reward she always wanted: praise. Instead she’d gotten advice and criticism, and everyone began setting a new goal for her: to work smarter. No wonder she’d reacted badly to that suggestion. All her life, she’d needed to push herself physically in order to feel good about herself.

  Erin finally slipped back down on the bed to lie on her side with her knees drawn to her chest. There truly was a little girl within her who’d been made to feel broken and in need of fixing. And no wonder. She kept remembering what Jonas had said to her last night about her screwed-up parents, her father doing everything he could to turn her into a son and her mother striving to make her into a perfect little lady. Talk about a child getting mixed signals.

  Erin drifted off to sleep with that realization circling in her mind.

  * * *

  * * *

  The next morning, Erin was allowed to work with the mare again. By lunchtime, she felt that she and the mare had made a lot of progress, and that was a heady feeling. After quickly making a sandwich at the bunkhouse, she went out to sit by the mare’s paddock fence to eat. The horse nuzzled her ball cap and sniffed her hair, sending a shivery sensation down Erin’s spine. When the equine nudged her shoulder, Erin finally gave her the rest of her sandwich bread and ate only what was left of the lunch meat.

  After wiping her hands clean on her jeans, she drew out her cell phone and called Julie, who answered on the second ring, bypassing hello to say, “It’s been forever since you’ve been in touch. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

  “I’m okay,” Erin assured her. She gave Julie a quick rundown of what had happened the night she quit her job and how she’d been working on her uncle’s ranch ever since. “I’m sorry I ignored your calls and let them go to voicemail. I was too upset to answer questions. It’s been a difficult time.”

  “I imagine it has,” Julie said. “I heard about the Johnson girl. What a tragedy. It set everybody in town on their ears, including me. The word is that you turned in your badge because the Sorensen boy threatened to rape that girl and no one at the sheriff’s department did a thing to stop him.”

  Erin sighed. “I’m sad to hear that Sheriff Adams is taking heat over my decision to quit. It really wasn’t his fault that nothing was done. The boy was in his father’s custody and scheduled to stand before a judge. The sheriff’s department couldn’t interfere with that process.”

  “So why did you get so upset you quit?”

  Erin really didn’t want to talk about that. “I’ll fill you in another time. My lunch break is almost over. Enough about me. How are you doing?”

  Julie sighed. “I’ve been doing okay until today. I felt a little off all morning, and now my stomach is rolling. I thought I was hungry and ate some soup, but that just made it worse.”

  “Uh-oh. Is there a virus going around?”

  “Not that I know of. But I’m exposed to dozens of people a day.”

  Erin frowned. “Maybe you should close up early and go home. Drink fluids, rest, take some aspirin. Now that you mention it, you don’t sound like your usual self.”

  “And I’m going downhill by the moment. Maybe I will go home. It isn’t that busy today.”

  “Do it. Text me so I don’t worry. If you’re sicker, I can come into town tonight. Make you some soup or go shopping for things you think sound appealing. I always crave different stuff when I’m feeling icky.”

  After Erin ended the call with Julie, she stood, brushed the dirt off her jeans, and turned to go back in the paddock with the horse. She found Wyatt standing directly in her path. He smiled and swept off his Stetson to blot sweat from his brow with his shirtsleeve.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just thought I’d see how the morning went.”

  “At first, we were back to square one, but she remembered the apples and carrots from yesterday. It wasn’t long before she wanted a treat worse than she wanted to keep me from touching her.” Erin gave him a questioning look. “How many apples and carrots can she safely have?”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. She’s a big girl. You cut everything up in chunks. Right? She could probably eat all you have with you and not get sick. If you’re worried about it, though, you could go with some grain as well. Change it up each time so she doesn’t get too much of the same thing. She might like the variety.”

  Before Erin could say anything more, he walked away.

  * * *

  * * *

  Blackie stood in the mall area of the Mystic Creek Menagerie and stared in bewilderment at the CLOSED sign on the front door of the Morning Grind. In his recollection, Julie had never closed her coffee shop prior to five o’clock without first posting a warning to her customers. It worried him that she had left today without giving her patrons a heads-up. He always stopped in during his afternoon walk around three, when she had very few customers trailing in. Their visits had become something he looked forward to.

  Blackie closed his own shop a couple of times a day. He just slapped a note on the door saying when he’d be back. But he owned the only pawnshop in town. He didn’t need to worry about competition or losing business. When people wanted to hock something, they needed money fas
t, and he knew they would return to strike a bargain with him later. Julie didn’t have that luxury. She was up against every eatery on Main. Why had she left unexpectedly in the middle of the day? Something must have happened.

  As Blackie left the mall, he saw Tony Chavez putting out place settings on the tables that peppered the revolving dining platform in the middle of the cavernous hall. Tony grinned and turned to say hello as Blackie drew to a stop.

  “The Morning Grind is closed,” Blackie told the restauranteur. “Do you happen to know why?”

  Tony, wearing a white bib apron smeared with tomato sauce, said, “She got sick. Said she had to go home and lie down. She didn’t look too good.”

  “Sick with what?” Blackie asked.

  “Nausea, I think. Her face was pale, and she was woozy. Nothing serious, I don’t think. Probably just that stomach virus that’s been going around. A few of my customers canceled reservations because they were down with it.”

  Blackie thanked Tony for the information and left. When he got to his shop, he called Julie on his cell phone, but she didn’t answer. That worried him even more, so when five o’clock finally rolled around, he closed his shop an hour early and drove out to the Bearberry Loop golf course. Julie’s blue Mazda was out front in the parking area. He exited his car and hurried along the walkway to her front porch. When he knocked, he heard no sounds coming from inside, so he rang the bell. He still got no response. So he tried the doorknob and stiffened in surprise when the carved portal swung open under the pressure of his hand.

  He believed Julie always locked up. In fact, she was so cautious that she’d even replaced all her downstairs windows with ones that locked in place if she wanted them slightly open. It wasn’t like her not to secure all her doors.

  He stepped into the foyer, feeling like a burglar. “Julie?” Blackie wondered if she was lying down. She hadn’t given him a complete tour of the house the night he’d come for dinner, so he didn’t know where her bedroom was, upstairs or down. “Julie? Where are you?”

  He heard a faint sound and followed his nose down a short hallway, which led him past a guest bathroom and then to a room with the door ajar. He peeked in and saw Julie curled up in a fetal position on a king-size bed. Still fully clothed, she lay atop the floral bedspread. Judging by the way she hugged herself, she was cold. He crossed the room and stood gazing down at her.

  “Sick,” she murmured. “Go. Don’t want you to catch it.”

  Blackie had a strong immune system and rarely caught viruses, but even if it meant he might this time, he couldn’t leave Julie when she needed someone to take care of her. He rolled her toward him and then stepped around the bed to draw back the spread and blankets. Then he retraced his steps, lifted her into his arms, and deposited her gently on the mattress so he could pull the covers over her.

  “Sick, so sick,” she told him. “Can’t keep anything down.”

  He sat beside her and took her hand. “I’ll drive back into town and get something that might help settle your stomach. And some 7-Up, too. My mother swore by it.”

  She struggled to focus her gaze on him. “Don’t want to bother you.”

  Blackie brushed a lock hair back from her cheek. “Don’t be silly. I have little else to do, so bother me all you like.”

  She smiled wanly and then drifted back to sleep. Blackie took a quick tour of the home to make sure all the exterior doors were locked. Then he fished in her purse to find her house keys. A moment later, he roused her from sleep again.

  “I’ve got to take care of a couple of things at my shop. Then I’ll be back. If you feel dizzy, don’t get up while I’m gone unless you have to. Is there anything you need before I go?”

  She shook her head no. Then he heard a text notification come in on her phone. He fished in her purse again to find the device. When the screen lighted up, he saw that Erin De Laney had messaged her. Normally Blackie wouldn’t have read the note, but a part of the first line showed on the screen, reading: I’m worried. Are U OK? That prompted him to swipe the screen so he could write back to Julie’s friend.

  This is Blackie. I just came to check on Julie, and she’s feeling pretty bad. I’m going to stay the night. Don’t want to leave her alone. But don’t be worried. I’ll get in touch if she gets any worse.

  Erin texted right back. I can take off from work and come if she needs me. No problem. Really.

  Blackie typed: I closed my shop early. I’ll let you know if I need backup. It’s only a virus, I think, a 24-hour bug.

  After returning Julie’s phone to her purse, Blackie locked the front door as he left the house. Then he drove back to his shop to put a notice on the door that he would be closed for an undetermined period of time. Then he went to Flagg’s Market to pick up a few items. He wasn’t sure what foods appealed to Julie when she wasn’t feeling well, so he got her his favorite sick-day stuff. He also bought a remedy for nausea. He didn’t like seeing her sick. It made him feel off-balance.

  As Blackie drove back to Julie’s home, one thought took up residence in his mind and refused to be evicted: I’m in love with her. Blackie had tried his damnedest to control his feelings for her in case it didn’t work out between them. She was too young for him, and he’d known from the start that he needed to guard his heart. But somehow he’d taken the leap, anyway.

  * * *

  * * *

  The following day Erin once again spent the morning with the abused mare. Because the equine was so wary and shrank from Erin’s touch, Erin started calling her Violet, short for Shrinking Violet.

  Wyatt laughed when he learned of the horse’s new name. “She isn’t a purebred with a registered name, so it’s probably fine for you to call her whatever you like. Slade says he bought her from a guy who raises parade horses. She’s half American Saddlebred and half Morgan, a great mix for elegant carriage and high-stepping.”

  “I didn’t realize horses are raised specifically to be in parades.”

  “They can be put to other uses in between events, which is probably why Slade bought her. She’ll make a good ranch horse if we can get her settled down.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, she isn’t settling in, and the ending for her won’t be good, I’m afraid.”

  Ending. Erin didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean, ending?”

  “Oh, nothing like that. Slade doesn’t euthanize problem horses. He just won’t keep her, is all. This is a ranch, not a therapy compound for troubled horses, and Violet is a very troubled horse.” His expression softened as he gazed at the mare for a moment. “Troubled horses are a liability. I don’t think it’s her aim, but she may hurt someone when she’s acting up. Slade will sell her. And then her new owners probably will, too. She’ll never find a good home. Unless, of course, a small miracle happens.”

  “Such as?”

  He shrugged. “If her next owner loves her and works with her, she could snap out of it and become a fabulous horse. Not likely to happen, though. Most people want a rideable horse right off the bat. And they aren’t knowledgeable enough to help her, anyway.”

  Erin’s chest went suddenly tight. “If that’s the case, why are you letting me work with her? I’m the least knowledgeable person there is when it comes to horses. A city girl who never even got to have a dog growing up.”

  His glanced at Pistol and Domino, playing nearby. “But you care about her. And whether you realize it yet or not, you understand her in ways even I don’t. The way I see it, you’re the perfect person to help her.”

  As Wyatt walked away, Erin gazed after him. She was no longer quite as upset with him as she had been, so her attraction to him had resurfaced. Not good. No matter what happened, she and Wyatt could only ever be friends. Even so, she liked watching him cover ground, his muscular legs measuring off long strides with each loose and rhythmic shift of his hips. He swung his arms with every step, which set off a display of muscles
rippling under the back of his shirt. He moved with incredible grace for such a tall man, never seeming to hurry and yet getting where he wanted to go with impressive speed. When she walked beside him, he made an obvious effort to slow down, which bugged her, but she kept telling herself that was silly. Her legs were shorter than his, and she couldn’t change that.

  She turned toward the fence and studied Violet. Suddenly, working with her was no longer just something she’d been told to do. Erin couldn’t let this animal be sold to someone who wouldn’t care about her. The mare was frightened; that was all. A liability? Erin had almost been fired for the same reason, and unless she learned to work smarter instead of harder, she still might lose her job.

  “Wyatt’s right,” she told the horse. “You and I have a lot in common. But, you know what, Violet? As broke as I’ll soon be, I won’t let you become the equine equivalent of a foster child, getting bounced from one bad home to another.” A sense of purpose burgeoned in Erin’s chest. “If Uncle Slade decides to sell you, I’ll be first in line to make an offer. Strike that. I probably need to tell him right now that I want you. He may just make a phone call and strike a deal over the phone. I can’t let that happen.”

  The horse made a deep, rumbling sound. Erin wondered what it was called. It was conversational in tone. Not knowing the proper term for all the noises equines made drove home to Erin how ignorant she was about the species.

  “I’m going to learn, though, Violet. For your sake, I’ll learn.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Blackie’s prediction that Julie probably had a twenty-four-hour bug was way off base. He’d held her head over a plastic bin most of the night and morning, and now as afternoon arrived, she was still hurling. At some point, she’d put on some satin pajamas, but those had become casualties of war at about three a.m. Now she had no more fresh nightwear. All of it was going through a wash cycle.