Sarah's Legacy

by Brenda Mott

  Bailey moved toward the rock pile, still watching the dog. Her heart swelled. It felt so good to help the animal. To give him a real home. Every living creature needed a place to call his own. She eyed the fence. She hadn’t done a professional job but the fence looked all right and seemed sturdy enough. She was confident it would hold the heeler.

  Her elation turned to dismay a heartbeat later. The dog loped faster along the length of the fence. Then in one quick motion he shoved his head and shoulders under the bottom of the diamond-mesh wire.

  “Oh, no!” Bailey inched forward, afraid to scare him, yet not wanting him to escape. “Hey, boy!” With not much time to weigh her choices, she hesitated a split second, then grabbed hold of the dog.

  Startled, he let out a yelp that tore at her heart, and ducked back into the yard. “I’m sorry, fella. I’m not trying to frighten you.” She attempted to calm him, but he wriggled out of her grasp and raced across the yard. Bailey watched, helpless, as the heeler gathered his haunches and sailed into the air. He hooked the top of the six-foot fence with his forepaws, scrambling to find purchase with his back legs. Up and over he went, to drop cleanly onto the other side.

  Knowing it would do no good to call him, Bailey fought the urge to do so anyway as he took off at a full run. “Damn.” She blew out a breath and unclenched her hand. After all that. She stared at the pile of rocks and shook her head. The fading light of day had all but surrendered to night. There was no sense looking for him now. She’d get up early tomorrow morning and hunt for him before she went to work.

  Feeling more tired than she had in weeks, Bailey put her tools away and headed for the house.

  AT FIVE-THIRTY, Bailey awoke, took a quick shower and dressed in jeans and a cotton blouse. The pleasantly cool morning required a light jacket, unzipped. In spite of the fact that she worried about the dog, she couldn’t help feeling elated as she walked toward the barn. Dew sprinkled the grass, and the air smelled unbelievably crisp and clean. Birds sang from the trees, and Star whinnied to her from the pasture.

  Bailey felt as if she’d entered a fantasy world where all was perfect. This place was everything she’d ever dreamed of. She caught Star and saddled him with the used tack she’d bought from the feed store yesterday. The gelding seemed eager to go as Bailey swung into the saddle and headed down the driveway. She would ride along the county road to a bridle trail she’d noticed that wound through the trees. She had no idea where the heeler might have gone, but surely he wouldn’t have strayed far.

  Star pricked his ears and stepped out at a brisk walk. Bailey kept him on the shoulder of the road, off the pavement, since the gelding had no shoes to protect his feet from the harsh surface. She’d have to remedy that situation before she did much more riding.

  She was almost to the break in the trees where the bridle path began when Star let out a welcoming whinny. Engrossed in the surrounding scenery and the way the early-morning sun played on the dew-damp grass, Bailey hadn’t been paying attention to much else. Now she spotted a rider coming down the road. A spark of warmth ignited within her. Trent. He rode toward her on the horse he called Bronnz.

  “I didn’t expect to see you this morning,” Trent said as he pulled the chestnut mare to a halt.

  Hating to admit she was looking for the dog, Bailey started to pretend she was simply out for a ride before work. But there was no point in lying, and if she told Trent, maybe he could help her search for the heeler and get him home.

  “The dog got away from me last night,” she said. “It was too dark to look for him.”

  Trent gathered his reins as Bronnz moved impatiently in place. “How?”

  “He jumped the fence.”

  “You’re kidding.” He shook his head, then surprised her with a grin. “Ornery critter, isn’t he?”

  “Just scared,” Bailey said. She let Star move down the bridle path, and Trent fell into place beside her. “I don’t know how much luck I’ll have finding him, but I thought I’d better give it a try.”

  “What are you going to do with the dog…if you can even catch him again?”

  Bailey sighed. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I guess I’ll worry about that later.” She focused on guiding Star along the trail and tried not to notice how close her knee was to Trent’s as they rode side by side. He wore a straw cowboy hat today, and a denim jacket over a black shirt. His profile made a heart-stopping contrast against the morning sky. Easy on the eyes. She wasn’t so sure he’d be easy on her heart. Bailey forced herself not to stare.

  “How’s Star working out for you?” Trent asked.

  “Fine. This is the first chance I’ve had to take him out for a real ride. I’ve been too busy putting the fence up for that crazy dog.”

  “Now, Bailey, you know all that dog needs is a little love and understanding.”

  She shot a sidelong glance his way and found Trent watching her with a twinkle in his eye, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Very funny,” she said. Then she smiled, too. “Okay, I admit he can be a pain in the butt. But it’s not his fault. I still think I can get him to come around.”

  “If you can first get him to stay home,” Trent said.

  They wound their way through the trees in companionable silence. A short distance later, the trail came out on the road again before picking up on the other side where the trees gave way to sagebrush. Bailey heard the sounds before she saw anything: the muffled call of voices, bleating sheep and the sharp bark of a dog.

  Her attention was riveted on the bend in the road as she craned her neck to see, but it wasn’t her dog that came into view seconds later. A herd of sheep, with two men on horseback and a pair of Border collies in attendance, swept toward Bailey and Trent, woolly faces a bobbing sea of black and white. Star perked his ears, good eye fixed on the herd, nostrils flared as he sniffed the air.

  “Be careful, Bailey,” Trent warned. “They’re on his blind side.”

  But it wasn’t Star who spooked as the sheep swept in front of them.

  Bronnz took one look at the woolly beasts and decided she wanted no part of them. With a snort, she leaped sideways and humped her back. Tensing, Star shied and prepared to bolt. Bailey gasped and pulled up on the reins, barely able to keep the gelding under control. To her horror, Trent bounced in the saddle like a rag doll, then sailed to the ground as Bronnz galloped off down the road. He landed with one arm pinned beneath him as his hat tumbled from his head.

  “Oh my gosh!” Bailey swung from the saddle, clutching Star’s reins. One of the cowboy sheep-herders rode over and halted beside them.

  “You all right, Trent?” he asked, looking down from the back of his paint horse.

  Bailey kept forgetting that this was a small town where everyone knew everybody. The cowboy shot her a glare of sudden recognition when Bailey approached Trent. She cringed, recognizing him, as well. His wife, Joan Sanderson, was one of the tellers at Colorado Western National. Joan had told Bailey that her husband wanted her to quit her job and stay home with the kids, but now that Bailey planned to institute a day care at the bank, she’d be able to bring her children to work with her.

  Apparently, Ben Sanderson wasn’t crazy about that idea, if the dark look he cast Bailey was any indication. He scowled at her as though she were personally responsible for Trent’s fall.

  Bailey glared back, then looked at Trent and echoed Ben’s question. “Are you all right?” She had a feeling his pride was more bruised than his backside. But her theory was shot down like a darted water balloon the minute he sat up.

  He flinched, cradling his right wrist. “Just peachy,” he replied.

  “Let me help you.” Bailey reached out to take hold of his elbow, but he avoided her touch.

  “I’m fine.” He pushed himself off the ground, using his left arm for leverage.

  Belatedly, Bailey noted that Ben hadn’t made a move to help Trent pick himself up out of the dirt. She supposed it was some sort of code of the West. Never help a man b
ack on his horse, or some such nonsense.

  She narrowed her eyes at Ben. He mumbled a “See you later” to Trent and headed after his partner and the departing herd of sheep.

  “You can stop your heroics now,” Bailey said. “Your macho buddy’s out of sight. Let me see what you’ve done to your arm.”

  “I said I’m fine. If you’ll be so kind as to share your horse with me, we can double up for the ride back to my place. It’s not far.”

  Bailey fought the urge to leave him standing in the dust. Why were men always so stubborn? “What about Bronnz?” she asked, determined not to care one way or the other if Trent’s arm was broken or merely sprained.

  “She’s probably already back to the barn by now.” He stepped up beside Star, speaking soothingly to him. “I can’t believe she spooked and Star didn’t. Go figure.” He shook his head.

  “I guess you never know what they’ll do for sure,” Bailey said. She watched Trent swing into the saddle, using his left hand to grip the horn. He clutched the reins gingerly in his right and reached out to her. A shiver snaked down her back as, belatedly, she realized that riding double meant sitting snug and intimate against Trent’s backside.

  “I can walk,” she said. “Like you said, it’s not that far, and I don’t want to put a strain on my horse.”

  “Now who’s being stubborn?” He stared firmly at her, still holding out his hand.

  With a sigh, Bailey took it and vaulted awkwardly up behind him. Riding on the back end of the horse felt strange, and far more precarious than sitting in the saddle. Nearly losing her balance as Star headed out at a fast walk, Bailey clutched involuntarily at Trent’s waist, then pulled back as though she’d been scalded. Silly, she scolded herself. This isn’t high school. Determined not to let him affect her, she held on to Trent with both hands as they rode along, and told herself it was no big deal. But, oh, he felt good, and the fact caught her off guard. She’d made up her mind not to be attracted to him, but her body apparently was not in sync with her mind. Her palms wanted to slide beneath the denim of his jacket, and her arms seemed drawn to slip farther around his waist and hang on tight.

  Sitting rigid, Bailey shook off the notion and bounced along on Star’s butt, grateful when the short ride that seemed endless was finally over. She slid from the gelding’s back, freeing Trent to swing from the saddle. He dismounted, stiffly holding his right arm.

  Bailey pursed her lips. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to offer to drive you to the emergency room?”

  “You’re a quick learner, banker woman,” Trent said. But his smile softened the words. “Thanks, anyway.” he added. “You need to get to work, and I’ll be fine. A little Epsom salts will take care of this.” He held up the offending wrist.

  Bailey shrugged and took Star’s reins from him. “Suit yourself. If you see the dog, would you please call me at the bank and let me know?”

  “Will do.” Trent nodded in farewell as she swung into the saddle and headed down the driveway.

  Bailey looked over her shoulder and saw that he’d sat down on the porch steps and removed his jacket in order to examine his wrist. As though feeling her gaze on him, he glanced up, and she quickly faced forward.

  She’d better pay attention to where she was riding, or she might end up on the ground, too. Forcing her thoughts away from Trent, she idly wondered where the dog was. She didn’t have enough time left to search for him now.

  Minutes later, Bailey turned up her driveway, and as she drew near the front yard she did a double take, then chuckled in pleasant surprise.

  The heeler lay curled on the welcome mat on the porch as though he belonged there. Pulling Star to a halt, Bailey spoke softly. “Hey, buddy. What are you doing on my doorstep?” And just like that, she thought of his name. Buddy. How appropriate. She could use one.

  After all, living in a small town where nearly everyone was against you and your nearest neighbor was a gray-eyed cowboy who gave you goose bumps was enough for anyone to need an ally.

  “Buddy!” she called, trying out the name.

  The heeler perked his ears and tilted his head sideways, then let it sink back onto his front paws. He appeared perfectly at home behind the white picket fence. He blinked and closed his eyes, as though sending her a message. You can fence me in only when and if I choose.

  Bailey had a feeling Trent Murdock copped a similar attitude.

  Well, no need to worry. Fencing in Trent was about the furthest thing from her mind. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly to him. Maybe then people like Ben Sanderson would begin to think of her as someone other than the wicked witch of Colorado Western National.

  She’d make a point to drop by Windsong after work this evening and see if a hardheaded cowboy could use a hand with his chores.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BAILEY LEFT the bank at five, a box containing a rabbit tucked under her arm. The day had been hectic. She’d had loans to check up on and a meeting with the contractor overseeing the remodel job on the bank’s basement-level offices, which would be used for the day care. And Jenny had come in to talk to Bailey at lunchtime, asking if she would like to have a bunny.

  Jenny’s elder sister, in the process of a divorce, was looking for homes for her pets, since she’d be moving to an apartment. The bunny was headed for the animal shelter unless Bailey could help. Unable to resist the little black rabbit, she’d agreed to take him. Why not? She had a farm now.

  Tired but satisfied that things at the bank were running smoothly, Bailey slipped out the rear exit.

  The chalk drawing caught her attention right away. Sketched in lines of pink, blue, orange and yellow, it stretched along the length of the sidewalk beside the parking lot, depicting a girl with skinny pigtails, stick limbs and a big smile. Bailey smiled, too, wondering who her little chalk artist was.

  From the corner of her eye, she spotted a child peering at her around the end of the building. The little girl had light blond hair and big blue eyes, and looked to be about eight or nine. She ducked out of sight when Bailey spotted her.

  “Hi there!” Bailey called. “I promise I won’t bite.”

  Hesitantly, the girl came around the corner into view and walked toward Bailey. “Hi,” she said. “Are you the new banker lady?”

  She wore a T-shirt with a barrel racer on the front, blue jeans and lace-up cowboy boots. She had her hair in a ponytail, sticking out from beneath a red ball cap, and held a yellow bucket of jumbo-size chalk in one sun-browned hand.

  Bailey’s heart danced. What a cutie. Just the sort of child she hoped to have one day herself. “I sure am,” she said, surprised that even a little girl would have heard of her. Great. The kid had probably been told to watch out for the wicked witch of the bank, who undoubtedly made a habit of snatching children to bake into gingerbread in her oven. “My name is Bailey.” Balancing the box in the crook of her arm, she extended her hand. “What’s yours?”

  The girl gave Bailey’s hand a tentative shake. “Macy Darland.” She looked up from beneath the bill of the cap. “You live by us,” she said.

  “I do?”

  Macy nodded. “Uh-huh. My dad owns the Circle D. We run cows. Mostly Charolais and Hereford.”

  “I see,” Bailey said, not sure what a Sharlay was. “And what’s your dad’s name?” She hoped to heaven he wasn’t any relation to the almighty Ben Sanderson. The ranchers in the community were very close-knit, and everyone in the county was either related to or friends with everyone else.

  “Wade. My brother is Jason. Our mom died when we were little.”

  The child’s sudden revelation startled Bailey. “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Something about Macy’s open honest expression made her add, “I don’t have a mother, either, or a dad.”

  “You don’t?” Macy’s blond eyebrows crept upward.

  “Nope.” Bailey shook her head. “So I guess that means we have something in common.”

  Macy nodded. “Guess so. Hey,
what’s in the box?” She stood on tiptoe, and Bailey lowered the box for her to see.

  “A rabbit who needed a home.”

  “Oh, he’s so cute!” Macy’s voice rose in pitch as she set the bucket of chalk down and cooed to the bunny.

  Bailey watched, amused. “You like animals, huh?”

  Macy grinned. “Sure do.”

  Again, Bailey’s heart went out to the little girl. Maybe Macy would like to have the bunny, if that was all right with her father.

  She hated to say anything without knowing. “Do you have pets?” she asked, instead.

  “Horses and two cow dogs,” Macy said. “Red heelers. I’d like to have a kitten, but my dad doesn’t like cats.”

  “Does he like rabbits?” Bailey asked.

  “For dinner.” Macy grinned, and Bailey laughed at her quick wit.

  “Oh. Then I guess we won’t ask him if this bunny can go home with you.”

  “Better not,” Macy agreed. “But I’d love to have him. Does he have a name?”

  “Licorice.”

  “That’s a good one. Since he’s black.” Macy tugged at the belt loops of her britches, which sagged slightly on her reed-thin hips. “Do you have a lot of pets?”

  “I’m working on it,” Bailey said. “I have a horse and a dog.”

  “No cats?”

  “Not really, though there’s a stray hanging around my place that stole my sandwich the other day.”

  Macy grinned. “Do you think I could come see your animals sometime?”

  “Sure, if it’s all right with your dad.”

  “Oh, he won’t mind,” Macy said, waving dismissively. “He keeps so busy with the ranch he doesn’t pay much attention to what me and Jason do, as long as our chores get done.” She spoke the words casually, not looking for sympathy, simply stating a fact.

  Bailey’s heart twisted. What kind of father ignored his kids? Reminding herself she didn’t even know Wade Darland and she shouldn’t be judgmental, Bailey glanced at the street that ran adjacent to the bank’s alley. “Where is your dad?” As far as she could tell, Macy was alone.