Huckleberry Lake

by Catherine Anderson

  Lifting Julie’s head from the pillow, he pressed the rim of a glass to her colorless lips. “Try just a sip, honey. It’s 7-Up and should settle your stomach.”

  Julie took a dutiful sip and promptly lurched sideways, digging her fingers into the edge of the mattress as she hurled it back up. Blackie grabbed the damp washcloth he’d commandeered from her bathroom and dabbed her lips as she sank back against the pillows again. She’d grown so pale that her face was nearly as white as the pillowcases. Not a twenty-four-hour bug. If that were the case, Julie would be sipping fluids at this point and maybe even munching cautiously on toast fingers, which were one of his specialties.

  “Just sleep if you can,” he told her.

  Yesterday she had kept telling him he didn’t need to stay, and she’d worried aloud that he might catch whatever she had. But today she was too weak for that. He’d found her a large University of Oregon T-shirt that she said she used for gardening. A pair of black leggings hugged her slender legs. Blackie was glad that she’d had the strength to change clothing by herself, which had allowed him to hide like a coward in the hallway until she was covered again. He didn’t think he could handle seeing her naked. Well, he would have handled it. But he had a feeling the view would have gotten chiseled into his memory cells, and he didn’t need that.

  Just then his cell phone rang. He adjourned to the hallway so he wouldn’t keep Julie awake while talking. He wasn’t surprised when he saw Erin De Laney’s name pop up on the screen. He’d called her with an update on Julie’s condition last night, using Julie’s phone, and during that conversation, he and Erin had exchanged contact information.

  “Hello,” Blackie said as he sank onto an ornate, Victorian-style chair sitting next to a table that provided a perch for a landline phone. “Nothing much has changed.”

  Erin’s voice came over the airways. “Man, she must have caught a bad one. Are you sure you don’t need me there? I mean, well”—her voice trailed away—“I, um, how do I say this? Is she able to take care of all her personal business without you helping her? I know you two are good friends, but if something more has developed between you, Julie hasn’t mentioned it. And she’s the modest type.”

  Blackie couldn’t help but smile. He’d noticed Julie’s conservative approach to fashion. She always managed to look stylish, but except for that blouse with parts of the sleeves missing, she rarely wore anything that displayed much skin. “She’s managed all that by herself so far. But if that changes, I’ll definitely call you. For now, though, we’re good.”

  “Are you sure? I’m new at this job, and cows are calving, so everyone’s really busy. But I’m positive my uncle would give me a couple of days off. He knows Julie is a dear friend.”

  Blackie hated to ask Erin to take a day off from work. She probably needed all the hours she could get now that she’d turned in her badge. Blackie would face no financial difficulties from keeping his shop closed. “I’ve got it for right now. And this can’t go on much longer. I’ll be taking her to the emergency clinic if it does.”

  Erin asked him to keep her posted and they concluded their conversation. When Blackie returned to the master suite, he found Julie in the bathroom. She had developed diarrhea, and the makeshift nightwear that he’d found for her had bitten the dust. Leggings. What had he been thinking? How would he ever get those damned things off her without seeing parts of her that he shouldn’t and didn’t wish to see?

  He got Julie into the shower fully clothed. She was so weak she leaned against the tiled wall, barely managing to stand by herself. He grabbed the handheld nozzle and sprayed her down, clothing and all. Then he began the torturous job of trying to tug wet, stretchy, clingy nylon knit off her butt and down her legs. He handed Julie a towel to cover herself before he began that task, but she was so sick she didn’t have the strength to hold it up. He got an eyeful. There was no avoiding it, and the only bright spot in the otherwise gloomy situation was that Julie was so sick she didn’t seem to care.

  What really blew Blackie’s mind, though, wasn’t just seeing Julie naked from the waist down, which was pretty damned mind-blowing for a fifty-three-year-old man who hadn’t dipped his oil stick anywhere for over three years. Nope, what really took the wind out of his sails was that Julie was a natural blonde.

  A natural blonde? He didn’t get it. Women all over Mystic Creek went to beauty shops to become blondes, spending heaps of money to keep their dark roots from showing. Yet Julie, whose down-yonder fuzz tagged her as a honey blonde, dyed her hair such a dark brown it was almost black.

  Within minutes, Blackie wouldn’t have cared if Julie dyed her hair purple. After he got her dressed in another T-shirt and a pair of men’s boxer shorts he’d found in one of her drawers, she was too weak to stand up, let alone walk. He feared she was getting dehydrated and decided she needed something more than occasional swallows of Pepto-Bismol, which she promptly vomited back up.

  “Julie, honey, I think you need to go to the ER. I can get your robe off the hook in the bathroom to hide what you’re wearing, and I’ll carry you. You won’t have to walk. Do I have your permission to do that?”

  She nodded, and that was the only green light he needed. Four hours later, he was carrying Julie back into her house. She’d been given IV fluids for two hours, and Dr. Blake, an internist who volunteered for duty at the clinic, had given her a shot for nausea. Blackie had also filled a prescription for rectal suppositories that were supposed to control the nausea after the shot wore off. Julie hadn’t vomited in over an hour, so Blackie was hopeful that the worst might be over.

  “Thank you, Blackie,” she whispered when he got her situated in bed. “I feel better.”

  “I’m glad.” That was an understatement. He’d fallen head over heels in love with this young woman, and he’d been truly frightened for her. For the moment, he wouldn’t allow himself to think about the age difference between them. He also wouldn’t think about that handsome doctor with his caramel-colored hair and fudge-brown eyes, who was undoubtedly a far better prospect than Blackie for a woman Julie’s age. Nope. He’d just focus on how relieved he was that she seemed to be on the road to recovery. “You’re pretty special to me.”

  When Julie fell asleep, Blackie went to the kitchen. He’d fixed stuff for Julie, but he hadn’t eaten a bite of food himself since yesterday. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he likened the young doctor’s hair and eye color to candies. He made himself a grilled cheese sandwich and opened a can of tomato soup, one of his favorite combos. While he ate, he texted Erin to tell her that he’d taken Julie to the clinic. After giving her the necessary details, he concentrated only on eating. He couldn’t care for the love of his life if he fainted from lack of sustenance.

  The love of your life? Oh, boy, old man. You’re in deep shit. But even as Blackie warned himself to guard his heart, he knew he was already a goner.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Over the next couple of days, Erin called Blackie during her lunch break and again when her shift ended at night. The news Blackie reported sounded positive. Julie was eating small amounts of food and feeling stronger. He predicted she would soon be back to normal, which eased Erin’s mind.

  Unfortunately, Erin’s own situation had not improved. Each morning when she got up, she told herself she would maintain firm control over her compulsive urges. She wouldn’t hurry through any chore. She wouldn’t worry about whether or not she was getting something done as fast as a man could. That was easy to do while she spent time with Violet. While with the horse, Erin felt calm and centered. But the moment she left the paddock to do the afternoon chores Wyatt had assigned to her, she found herself slipping back into what she’d come to think of as her frenzy mode. She struggled to work slowly and remember all the safety rules.

  Erin still hadn’t unpacked her car. Being ready to leave the ranch at a moment’s notice gave her a sense of security. If Wyatt fired h
er, she would be devastated, not only because she needed the job, but because she couldn’t bear to leave Violet behind. Erin didn’t know what she’d do if she were forced to abandon that horse. However, simply knowing that she could leave the ranch made her feel as if she were more in control of her life.

  When her first payday arrived, Erin was thrilled to get a check. She immediately went to the main house, hurried upstairs, and sat on the bed with her checkbook to tally how much money she would have in the bank after she deposited it. The sum wasn’t huge, but after deducting her last month’s rent for the cottage, which would make her square with the landlady, and paying for her auto insurance, she had plenty left over for her cell phone and fuel expenses. What remained would be around three hundred dollars.

  She hurried downstairs to find her uncle, who was in the kitchen kissing his wife. Erin cleared her throat. When Slade raised his head, he flushed, the added color lending his burnished complexion a ruddy glow.

  “I’m sorry,” Erin said, trying to back out of the room. “I should have hollered or something.”

  Vickie extricated herself from her husband’s arms. “Don’t be silly. I’ve got fresh pecan pies, and we’re delighted to have you join us.”

  Uncle Slade sauntered over to take a chair at the table, then patted the oak surface to indicate Erin should join him. Because Vickie and Slade hadn’t been married long, Erin was reluctant to infringe upon their privacy. This was their home, after all. But Vickie insisted that she have a piece of pie with them, which was accompanied by coffee. Erin was glad of the distraction. She needed to talk with her uncle, and she wasn’t quite sure how to start.

  After finishing her pie, Erin just blurted out what was on her mind. “Uncle Slade, I’ve fallen in love with Violet.”

  “With who?”

  “The mare you recently bought. I nicknamed her Violet, because she’s the proverbial shrinking violet.”

  “Oh!” He nodded and then sighed. “I screwed up buying that mare. I think the former owner drugged her up before I looked at her. She seemed as calm as could be until I had her delivered here. Now I’ve got an impossible-to-handle horse on my hands.”

  “No!” Erin cried. Then, after modulating her voice, she said more softly, “She’s only frightened. Wyatt and I believe she’s been abused.”

  “You don’t say?” Uncle Slade frowned and shrugged. “Well, that’s sad. But the bottom line is, I’m not running a horse rescue. I hoped to use her as a ranch horse, and that isn’t looking likely.”

  “Please, don’t sell her.” Erin’s throat went tight. “Well, sell her, yes, but only to me.”

  Both Slade and Vickie gave Erin a startled look.

  “To you?” Slade looked mystified. “I didn’t think you were into horses all that much.”

  “Not just any horse. That’s true. But Violet is special. I really love her a lot, and I think she’s coming to love me.”

  “Huh.” Uncle Slade shook his head. “I can’t sell you that horse, honey. What if you never get her settled down?”

  “I will. She’s a very sweet animal.” She told her uncle about all the times Violet had acted up but avoided ever touching Erin with her hooves. How the mare had balked on the lead but still minded her manners. “At some point, I believe she was a fabulous riding horse. Then, for reasons I can’t imagine, she was sold and ended up with someone who abused her. She’s just frightened of being handled now.”

  Uncle Slade shook his head again. “Honey, a frightened horse is a dangerous horse. And I love you. I can’t sell you an animal that may go berserk and turn on you.”

  “She’ll never do that.” Erin truly did feel confident of that. “She’s not mean. She’s just scared. Talk with Wyatt. He agrees with me, and he’s been letting me work with her all morning, every morning. Would he do that if he thought the horse might harm me?”

  “He’d better not. I don’t want anything happening to you out there.”

  Vickie spoke up. “Don’t immediately say no, Slade. At least talk with Wyatt before you reach a decision.”

  Erin’s uncle nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to Wyatt. But don’t get your hopes up, Erin. If you were more experienced with horses, I might consider letting you have her, but as it stands, you’ve been on a horse only a couple of times. That doesn’t make you a horsewoman.”

  “Maybe with Violet, I’ll learn,” Erin suggested.

  * * *

  * * *

  Erin was close to tears during supper at the bunkhouse that night. She tried to converse with the men and laugh at their jokes, but her heart was breaking over the uncertain future Violet faced. Here on the ranch, she had a decent chance to recover from whatever had happened to her. If she was sold, there was no telling what kind of person she’d get as her next owner. If someone grew frustrated with the mare and mistreated her, it would be disastrous. Violet might never trust anyone again.

  Erin was washing dishes when Uncle Slade walked into the bunkhouse. “Erin,” he said, “I need to speak with you.”

  His tone sounded serious, and judging by his expression, he wasn’t there with good news. Erin dried her hands and followed her uncle outside. He looped an arm around her shoulders and led her across the ranch common. When Erin realized they were walking to Violet’s paddock, tension snapped her body taut. Once at the fence, Uncle Slade released his hold on her.

  “Get in there. I want to see with my own eyes that she won’t hurt you.”

  Erin was appalled. “But Uncle Slade, that isn’t how it works. I have to sit still until Violet decides to let me touch her. She’ll just act up and be a pill if I change that part.”

  “Let her be a pill, then. Wyatt swears up and down she won’t strike you. I’ve been working with horses all my life, and I don’t believe it. A frightened horse is a dangerous horse, and there’s no way in hell I’m giving you the equivalent of a nail in your coffin.”

  Erin was shaking as she climbed over the fence to get inside the enclosure with Violet. The mare wouldn’t understand that her future depended upon this moment. Erin had never rushed her. Each morning, they took their time, and Violet slowly grew accustomed to Erin’s presence. If Erin changed that pattern now, the horse might freak out.

  Even so, Erin was no longer afraid of Violet. Even at her worst moments, she’d been careful not to hurt Erin. Uncle Slade would see that for himself, and maybe, just maybe, he would consent to selling Erin the mare.

  On trembling legs, Erin walked toward the animal. “Hi, baby girl. Are you going to let me pet you tonight?”

  Violet stared at Slade, and all the muscles across her back twitched and rippled.

  “She doesn’t like that you’re here,” Erin told him. “Will you back away?”

  “Hell, no. In the real world, other people won’t back away. Move on in. I want to see her act up.”

  Erin straightened her shoulders and moved in. Violet made that strange rumbling sound, and she heard Uncle Slade say, “Listen to her talk to you. That’s positive.”

  Erin relaxed a bit and moved closer. “Hi, sweet girl.” Erin had no treats with her, and she’d never tried to approach Violet without them. But she had no choice but to do so tonight. She took two more steps. Then another. In a moment, she was close enough to press against the mare’s shoulder. Erin wanted to shout with joy, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she ran her hand up Violet’s neck, just as she always did, to touch her poll.

  “I’ll be damned,” Slade said. “You’ve made some progress with her. I’ll give you that.”

  Just then Uncle Slade tossed his hat over the fence, and Violet gave a violent start. It made Erin angry. She spun around. “Why did you do that?” she cried. “She’s starting to trust me, and now you’ve frightened her.”

  “Yep. But she stood fast.” Uncle Slade grinned, then said, “Get me my Stetson before she tramples it.”

  E
rin collected his hat and took it to him. He simply accepted the offering and turned to walk away. Erin scaled the fence to run after him. She grabbed his shirt sleeve and drew him to a stop. “Well? Are you going to sell her to me or not? I’ve only got three hundred to spare right now, but I’ll make payments.”

  “I am not going to sell you that horse.”

  Erin’s heart sank. “But why? Please, Uncle Slade. I love her! And I promise, no matter what your asking price is, I’ll pay you every dime.”

  He smiled again. “I didn’t say you can’t have the horse, honey. Only that I won’t sell her to you. She’s yours. Only she’s a gift.”

  Erin didn’t want Violet as a gift. Her mother had given her things when she was a kid, and then her father had taken them away if she displeased him. “I want to buy her, Uncle Slade. I want it all legal, too, with a bill of sale and a payment plan.”

  Her uncle squinted through the spring twilight to study her face. “Do you remember when you stayed with me when you were six? You wanted a pony so bad you could taste it, and I told you I’d buy you one.”

  Erin did remember that. She’d been so angry with her parents for putting a stop to that plan. They’d both refused to let her have a horse even after Uncle Slade said he would pay for all of its expenses until it died. “You never got me one, though. My mom and dad wouldn’t allow it.”

  “That’s right. And I felt bad, because you were one brokenhearted child. Now, though, your parents have nothing to say about it. Violet isn’t a pony, but she is a horse, and I’m giving her to you.” He held up a hand. “And I’ll draw up a bill of sale to give you ownership in writing. It’ll be ‘all legal.’ Although I gotta say, that smarts. My word should be enough. I don’t renege on an agreement.”