Sarah's Legacy

by Brenda Mott

  Bailey glanced at the ’53 Chevy, which had seemed so much more practical to drive to the fairgrounds than her Mustang convertible. “I never gave it a thought,” she said. Then she scowled. “Besides, it’s my truck now, not his.”

  “Maybe in your eyes,” Trent said. “But not in Lester’s.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not going to let him intimidate me,” Bailey said.

  Trent quirked one eyebrow. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” he teased.

  Bailey reached out to stroke Shafana. “Do you need some help getting her unsaddled?”

  “No, thanks. I can handle it.” He smiled crookedly, and she realized he was echoing the words she’d spoken to him the night of their moonlight ride, when he’d offered to help her with Star.

  Bailey punched him lightly on the arm. “You’re ornery, you know that?”

  “Look who’s talking,” he said as they walked toward the horse trailer.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She flipped her braid over her shoulder.

  Trent gave a dry laugh. “As if you didn’t know. Using a little girl to get me to socialize.” He shook his head. “I’d say that’s pretty ornery, not to mention sneaky.”

  Bailey leaned against the horse trailer and folded her arms in front of her as Trent haltered Shafana. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy giving the demonstration to the kids?” She graced him with an inquiring smile.

  “No, I’m not saying that.” He tied Shafana to the trailer, then loosened the cinch on the mare’s saddle. “I’m just saying you could’ve went about asking me a little differently.”

  Bailey thought she detected a not-so-teasing note in his voice. Was he truly annoyed at her? “And if I had taken a different approach, would you have said yes?” she challenged.

  “Probably not.”

  The honesty of his answer surprised her. “Well, there you go.” Bailey motioned with one hand. “If I hadn’t let Macy ask you, then you would’ve sat at home all by yourself today—as usual—instead of enjoying the sunshine and my good company here.”

  He faced her, eyebrows raised. “Is that right.”

  “Yes, it is, Mr. Cool Lone Wolf.”

  He grunted. “So that’s what you think of me, huh?”

  Bailey pursed her lips and nodded. “Pretty much.”

  “Humph.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to deny it.”

  He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he swung the saddle and blanket from Shafana’s sweaty back and laid them in the bed of the pickup. With a brush and currycomb, he went to work on the mare’s coat, looking at Bailey over the top of Shafana’s back. “I don’t deny it, Bailey, and I don’t make excuses for it, either. It’s simply the way I like my life.”

  “Really?” Irritation bubbled within her. “You’re going to stand there and tell me you prefer being alone and lonely to being here with me and these kids—” she gestured at the few children who had not yet departed “—having a good time.”

  “That’s right,” he said stubbornly, whisking the brush across Shafana’s neck and shoulder.

  Bailey gritted her teeth and reminded herself that she’d worried about maybe having caused him pain by getting him here today. Damn it, didn’t the man understand that he couldn’t crawl in a hole and watch life pass him by?

  “You know what?” She glared at him. “You’re hopeless.”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “Probably.”

  “I ought to just stop wasting my time with you.”

  “Maybe so.”

  So why didn’t she? The voice inside her mocked her, as did the challenging look Trent gave her. Was he hoping she’d rise to his challenge and force him to come out of hiding, both literally and figuratively? Or was this simply her imagination?

  Bailey sighed. “I really don’t know why I keep bashing my head against that brick wall you’ve erected,” she said. “Maybe it’s because I see more behind that tough exterior of yours than most people do.”

  “We’ve had this conversation before,” he said. “Ms. Marshmallow.” His lips twitched, then curved in a grin.

  Bailey shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  He ducked beneath Shafana’s neck and slipped his arms around Bailey’s waist, crossing his wrists as he held the horse brushes behind her. “If there weren’t children present, I could show you,” he murmured. Then he gave her a chaste kiss before releasing her. Turning his back, he began to brush Shafana once more.

  Bailey’s lips burned where Trent’s had touched them. She placed her fingertips there, loving the way his kiss had felt, yet angry at herself for wanting him so much.

  “Is that so?” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “And who says I’d let you?”

  His gray eyes sparked as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “You do, sweetheart. I can see it in those violet-blue eyes of yours every time I kiss you.”

  She wanted to slap him. And she felt like kicking herself because his arrogant words were true, and because she’d love to kiss him again.

  Instead, she whispered in his ear. “Yeah? Well, it’s obvious how much you want me, as well.” Purposely, she made her voice low and husky. “I can see it in the front of those jeans of yours, cowboy—every time you kiss me.” She squeezed his hip, letting her eyes drop to the zipper of his jeans. Then she walked away.

  He stared after her, agape.

  With a smug smile, Bailey waved at him, climbed into her pickup and drove out of the parking lot.

  TRENT WATCHED Bailey pull out of sight. Chuckling, he turned his attention back to grooming Shafana. Bailey was the most amazing, most irritating, most interesting woman he’d ever met. He still couldn’t believe how she’d manipulated him into speaking to Macy’s 4–H group.

  There was no way he would have said yes if Macy hadn’t looked so damn brokenhearted yesterday. She’d nearly torn his heart in two, talking about Sarah the way she had. Yet that wasn’t all there was to it. What had really gotten to him was that he’d never realized just how much pain and grief other people had suffered after Sarah’s death.

  Sure, he knew Amy had grieved for their little girl, in spite of her inability to face the reality of the situation, as had his mom and dad and dozens of friends and neighbors. But deep down inside, he’d been positive that no one in the world could possibly hurt the way he did. Seeing the depth of Macy’s pain was a real wake-up call. He knew Sarah’s death had been hard for the girl, but to hear just how hard in Macy’s own words staggered him. It was the reason he’d said yes to her request, though at first he’d been angry at Bailey for cornering him that way.

  Though coming to the fairgrounds where Sarah had so often ridden in horse shows had initially been hard, he had to admit he’d enjoyed being around the kids. Again, a wave of guilt rushed over him.

  Sarah should be here. She’d be old enough now to be in Macy’s 4–H group. Eight was the minimum age for joining. Knowing his daughter hadn’t even had a chance to do that sapped all the happiness he’d felt just moments ago.

  Would he never get over his futile rage, not to mention the sorrow he experienced every time such a thought crossed his mind?

  Once he’d brushed Shafana’s coat dry, Trent loaded her into the trailer, put his tack away and climbed behind the wheel of the truck. The fairgrounds were deserted, the last of the kids and their parents gone. Rebecca, the 4–H leader, had thanked him profusely for his time at such short notice. He’d told her it was no problem. But what had it cost him emotionally?

  The abandoned fairgrounds only made him realize just how empty his life was, how barren his heart with Sarah gone. He didn’t want to feel normal again, because somehow that would betray Sarah’s memory. But Bailey’s words kept echoing in his mind: You’re going to stand there and tell me you prefer being alone and lonely to being here with me and these kids, having a good time?

  He searched his soul.

  And he knew the answer.

  He didn’t pre
fer it, but he had no choice. That couldn’t change unless he was willing to open his heart to the possibility of pain and sorrow once more. And he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Not now. Maybe never. He’d flirted with Bailey, and he’d told her he’d never been afraid to face trouble, but now he wasn’t altogether sure that was true.

  Putting the truck in gear, he backed out of the parking lot and pulled away from the fairgrounds and its memories that plagued him.

  HE’D NO SOONER GOTTEN Shafana unloaded and turned out in the pasture than the phone rang. He started to let the answering machine get it, but it was probably his mom or dad.

  He hurried into the house and glanced at the caller ID as he reached for the phone. His parents’ number flashed on the screen as his mother’s voice filled his ear.

  “Trent, honey, it’s Mom.”

  She didn’t sound right. “Hi. What’s the matter?”

  “It’s your dad,” she said.

  Fear gripped him.

  “He’s had a mild heart attack.”

  Mild? His mouth went dry. How could any heart attack be described as mild? “Is he okay? When did it happen?” Dear God, no. Not his father. Not after losing Sarah.

  “This morning,” Della said. “He’d just gotten back from a ride on his new stallion. The damned old fool.” Tears choked her voice. “He still thinks he’s thirty years old. Trent, I’m so scared. The doctors say he’ll be fine, but…” She let the words trail away.

  She didn’t have to explain. Trent clenched the phone and momentarily closed his eyes. “It’s going to be all right, Mom. I’ll be on the first flight I can get out of here.”

  “Call me when you have your flight information,” Della said. “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

  “Never mind. You just sit with Dad. I’ll grab a cab. Which hospital is he at?”

  She told him.

  “Okay. Hang tight, Mom. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Tell Dad I love him.” He hung up the phone and leaned against the wall. Shit. His hands shook. If anything happened to his dad…

  He wouldn’t think that way. Surely fate could not be so cruel.

  He reached for the phone once more and called the airline to make arrangements to fly to California. Luck was with him, and he was able to get a flight out later that day. He’d have to pack quickly, though, and find someone to care for his horses.

  Instantly, Bailey came to mind. She didn’t know a lot about horses, but surely she could manage to feed his while he was gone. He could ask one of his neighbors, but they were all busy taking care of their own ranches. He started to dial Information to get Bailey’s phone number but hung up, instead.

  What the hell. He might as well just go over to her place and ask her.

  Telling himself it wasn’t an excuse to see her again, Trent headed across the pasture to the dividing fence. He’d have to bring her to Windsong and walk her through the horses’ daily routine. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone. It all depended on how well his dad was doing.

  Again, fear gripped him, and he pushed it away.

  He would take things one at a time. It was the only way he could stay strong for his mother’s sake.

  As he approached Bailey’s house, he couldn’t help but think that this was just one more event that had thrown her into his life. Maybe it was an omen.

  Then again, maybe going to California would give him the perfect opportunity to think. He prayed his dad was all right. And he prayed that when he returned to Windsong, he’d have an answer to the question that plagued him night and day:

  Was he doing the right thing even considering a relationship with Bailey?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BAILEY’S THOUGHTS were wandering like the curves in the road she was taking home from the fairgrounds. Which was just how she’d felt ever since she first became attracted to Trent. How much longer could they keep up this game they played, where they flirted one minute, then retreated the next?

  She was just as guilty as he was. She had fun flirting with Trent, but she wanted more than that. Knowing she would likely come out on the short end left a sour taste in her mouth. Unfortunately, Camille was right. It was too late to worry now. She’d gotten in way over her head. All she could do was hang on for the ride.

  Bailey parked her truck and headed for the barn. Maybe if she stayed busy, it would occupy her mind and keep her thoughts off Trent for a little while. She was expecting a delivery of two tons of hay this afternoon, and the feed room needed to be cleaned out first to make room for it. She’d been buying hay for Star from the feed store up until now, a few bales at a time, but that was getting expensive, since the cost per bale was higher than buying by the ton.

  Bailey set to work clearing out the old boxes and refuse the farm’s previous owners had left. A short time later the sound of footsteps in the barn caught her attention. They were too heavy to be Macy’s. Surely it wasn’t Trent. Heart pounding, Bailey stepped into the barn aisle.

  It was him. Bailey’s breath caught in her throat. She must look a mess. Already she was hot and dusty from working in the feed room, her T-shirt damp against her body. Swiping at stray wisps of hair that had come loose from her braid, she glanced down at her clothes. Good grief. She had a spider-web caught on the belt loop of her jeans.

  Brushing it off, Bailey smiled and tried to control her racing pulse. “Hi,” she said, wondering what had brought him to her house so soon after she’d just seen him at the fairgrounds. Then she noticed how pale and drawn his face was. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s my dad,” he said without preamble. “He’s had a heart attack.”

  “Oh, no.” Dread shot through Bailey. Trent didn’t need more tragedy in his life. Dear God. “Is it bad?”

  “Mom said it was a mild one, but I’m really worried about him. Dad’s pushing seventy. I have to fly to California.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Bailey inquired. “Do you want me to feed your horses while you’re gone?”

  He nodded. “Would you mind? I’d ask one of the neighbors, but they’ve all got plenty of work of their own. Not that you don’t, with the bank and all,” he hastily added.

  She held up her hand. “Say no more. I’m happy to do it.”

  “Can you come up to the house now and let me walk you through my chore routine?” he asked. “I have to leave here shortly.”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re sure it’s no imposition?”

  “No, it’s fine. I was just cleaning up to make room for some hay I’m having delivered, but it won’t arrive for over an hour.”

  “You should’ve said something,” Trent said as they walked down the barn aisle. “I would’ve hauled it for you. No sense in you paying extra to have it delivered.”

  A shiver went up Bailey’s spine. What would it be like to have Trent in her life every day, sharing chores with her, there whenever she needed him? Actually, he pretty much did that already. She couldn’t help but ask herself why he cared enough to help her out any time whether she asked or not, yet he wasn’t willing to trust her with his feelings.

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I didn’t have to pay much extra, since the driver was bringing a load of hay to this area anyway.”

  “Well, next time just holler.” His gaze fell on hers, soft and compassionate.

  Bailey’s heart swelled. Whether he admitted it or not, Trent was a kind and generous man. Here he was, thinking of her, even as he worried about his father. Longing pulled at her, and she ached for him. It wasn’t fair that bad things kept happening to him. She wished she could take him into her arms and invite him to be a part of her life—forever.

  Instead, she followed him across the pasture, along the familiar route between their properties, and ducked through the dividing fence.

  Trent walked with her through the barn and showed her where each type of feed and vitamins were kept and which horses got what. “I’ve written up a feeding chart and schedule,” he said, indica
ting a clipboard on the wall. “It’ll help you keep everything straight. Doc Baker’s phone number is there, in case of emergency. Don’t worry about turning the mares and foals out in the exercise pen if it’s too much trouble. They can stay in their paddocks until I get back if need be. And don’t mess with Alysana.” He glanced toward the bay stallion, in his roomy, pipe-rail paddock.

  A frown creased Trent’s forehead. “Normally, I stable him in the hottest part of the day to keep his coat from bleaching out, but just leave him be. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Don’t give it another thought,” Bailey said. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  He hesitated. “Are you sure this won’t be too much for you, Bailey? I could probably call Wade Darland and see if Macy and Jason want to help you out. Or maybe—”

  “Trent.” She gave him a firm look. “I said not to worry. I’ll be fine, and as much as Macy likes to come over, I’m sure she and Jason will help me if necessary. You just go and take care of your father.”

  He sighed, both hands on his hips. Then he moved toward her and slipped his arms around her waist. “I can’t thank you enough.” He bent and kissed her, softly at first, then more passionately.

  Bailey closed her eyes and let his tongue invade her mouth, loving the feel of it, the taste of him. The way his strong arms felt wrapped around her. Dear God, she loved this man. Why couldn’t he love her back?

  With seeming reluctance, Trent ended the kiss, yet kept his arms around her waist. He gazed into her eyes. “Bailey,” he whispered, “when I get back, we need to talk. I can’t keep going on this way. You’re turning me inside out to the point where I can’t even think straight. We need to deal with what’s happening between us, one way or another.”

  She pressed her fingertips gently against his lips. “Shh,” she said. “Don’t think about that now. Just go to your father. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  He nodded, then released her. “Thank you again,” he said.