Mary Dell sat down at the neighboring machine and started working on a block of her own, sewing much more quickly than Holly. This was supposed to help her relax?
“So, how’s it going with the horse? I haven’t been able to catch up with Rob Lee. Seems like he’s been spending a lot of time over at the Finley place.”
“He’s been there every day,” Holly said, layering a new fabric strip on top of the partially sewn block. “He brought Sarabeth over there on Monday and put her in the paddock next to Stormy’s, so they could get to know each other. Then he took the dividing walls out of the horse trailer and left it at Finley’s. Tomorrow, he’s going to saddle up Sarabeth and see if Stormy will let her lead him into the trailer.”
“So, he’s going to bring Stormy back to the F-Bar-T tomorrow?”
Holly shook her head, pulled the block out from under the pressing foot, and started sewing another strip on the opposite side.
“He’s just going to let Stormy have a look around, spend a little time in the trailer, hopefully get used to it. When he is, then Rob Lee will bring them all back to the ranch. It might take a few days. Oh, I almost forgot, he brought a goat over too, a black-and-white one, and put her in Stormy’s paddock.”
“Mildred?” Mary Dell asked, raising her voice to be heard over the whir of the sewing machine. “Why’d he do that?”
“Rob Lee says that having another animal around can help a traumatized horse feel calmer. They develop some kind of friendship or connection, I guess. Goats seem to be good candidates for the job. Rob Lee said that, sometimes, the horse can get to be really dependent on a goat.”
“Huh. I hope it works out. Mildred’s never been good for much besides breaking out of the pen and eating the rosebushes. It’d be nice if she finally came to some good.”
Mary Dell pulled a finished block from the machine, snipped off the threads, and carried it to the ironing board. Holly frowned, looking at her own block. She’d started first but was only halfway done. But the seams looked straight, so that was something, and her shoulders weren’t tense anymore.
“Sounds like you and Rob Lee have been seeing a lot of each other,” Mary Dell said, pressing the iron down on her block.
“Every day since I bought Stormy,” Holly said. “I just hang around and watch, hoping Stormy will get used to me. Rob Lee’s the one doing all the work.”
“That’s nice,” Mary Dell said. “Rob Lee needs somebody to talk to. Maybe he’s like Stormy. Maybe a connection with another creature will help him feel calmer, move past those bad memories.”
“He doesn’t talk to me much. And mostly just about Stormy, but yesterday, when I showed up in a new pair of white cowgirl boots, he shook his head, said I should have bought some the color of horsesh—” She stopped herself, not sure how Mary Dell would feel about that word, even though Rob Lee had said it. “Of horse manure. And then he smiled.”
“He smiled?” Mary Dell stopped what she was doing and turned completely around. “Really?”
“Not a big smile, but . . . yeah.” Holly smiled too. From what Cady had told her about her little brother and all he’d been through, she knew that a smile from Rob Lee, even a little one, was a small triumph.
“Dang, baby girl! You might turn out to be more useful than Mildred.”
“Hmm. Wonder if I can put that on my résumé. Special skills: can stand in for a goat.”
Mary Dell joined in her laughter. “It’s good to have you here, Holly. It really is. Other than growing an ulcer trying to learn to quilt, you settling in all right? Too Much is such a small town compared to LA. You’re probably bored.”
“Not as bored as I thought I’d be,” Holly said. “Don’t get me wrong, I really wish you had a decent gym in town and maybe a movie theater, but I haven’t been bored. Even though she’s older than I am, Cady has been great to me, kind of like a big sister. We’re going to go off to the Ice House for a girls’ night one of these days. Too Much is kind of growing on me,” she said, a little surprised to realize she was telling the truth. “So, quilting ulcer aside, things are okay. I do wish I could get hold of my mom, though. She called a couple days after I got to town, letting me know she got to Galveston okay, but nothing since then. I’ve been leaving voice mails for her for two weeks and she hasn’t called me back.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Holly said in a purposely practical voice, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as Mary Dell. “I’d have heard if she wasn’t. Mom might not be as big a name as she once was, but if something bad had happened to her, the tabloids would pick up on it, and fast. There’s nothing they love more than reporting stories about the trials and tribulations of fading stars.”
Mary Dell carried her finished block back to the table and sat down at the sewing machine, but didn’t begin another.
“And you say she’s in Galveston.”
“Mexico. She left from Galveston, on a cruise,” Holly said, leaving out the part about her doing so with a married man. “She’ll be gone for a couple of months.”
“Oh, well, that explains it,” Mary Dell said, smiling. “Howard and I led a quilting cruise a few years back. Once we hit international waters, my phone wouldn’t work at all. I bet she’ll call as soon as she’s back in port. Don’t you worry, baby girl.” She leaned over and gave Holly’s arm a squeeze, then patted her shoulder.
Something about that gesture, so motherly, made Holly’s throat feel thick. She didn’t like to admit it, but she really had been worried about Rachel. Not because she thought something had happened to her—the talk about the tabloids was simple truth; if there had been bad news regarding her mom, they’d have tracked her down to the North Pole to get a comment—but because they’d parted so badly. She thought Rachel might not be speaking to her. It was funny, but, until now, she hadn’t quite realized how much she depended on her mom for advice. Maybe Rachel was her Mildred, the creature who calmed her down. There were so many times during the last couple of weeks when she’d have loved to talk things over with her mom. She’d left six messages without hearing back from her.
But the international waters thing made sense. When Rachel was back in an American port, she’d call. No matter how they’d left things, there was no way her mom would still be mad at her, not after all those weeks. Was there?
“So,” Holly said, finishing up the third round on her block, noticing that the step pattern was starting to show itself, “how are things for you? Is it good to be back home?”
“It is. Not quite as good as I thought it would be. I’ve been hoping to come home for years, but I always figured Howard would come with me.”
“That must be hard. How’s he doing?”
“Oh, real well. We talk every day, morning and night. He’s taking one class at the community college this term, an art class, just to get his feet wet a little bit. His girlfriend is taking the same class, so he loves that, but it sounds like he’s making some new friends too. And he’s getting himself to class, making his breakfast and lunch, doing his laundry, staying up too late . . .” She laughed, but it sounded a little hollow to Holly’s ears. “You know, being a grown-up. Which is what I always wanted for him, so, of course, I’m proud and happy for him. But it is lonely.”
“You’ve got your family here, though, right? Your mom seems nice.”
“Oh, but looks can be deceiving,” Mary Dell said, raising her eyebrows to a meaningful arc. “I’m just kidding; Momma’s okay. She’s no saint, I can tell you, a little self-centered and always was, but she’s a good mother. Very protective of her family, always was.
“I’m glad I can be here to take care of her now. She was acting real crazy last week—I found her out in back of the chicken coop wearing a pair of my daddy’s old overalls and smoking a package of Marlboros she found in the pocket. When I asked what she was doing, she told me to mind my own gol-darned business, but she said it more colorfully, then called me Florence, accused me of trying to steal her man, and tried to fight m
e.”
“Really?”
The little old lady Holly had met at the ranch, the one who’d filled her coffee cup and called her honey, seemed nothing like the person Mary Dell was describing.
“Really. I thought she’d lost her marbles and we’d have to put her in the loony bin. The doctor said she probably had an infection and prescribed some antibiotics. I’ve got to take her back in for a follow-up, but she seems fine now.”
“It’s a good thing you’re here to look out for her,” Holly said, snipping a thread and preparing to sew another strip.
“It is,” Mary Dell agreed. “And, much as I miss Howard, Momma needs me more now. He’s doing fine on his own. And I’m glad I can be here for Rob Lee and Cady, too, at least a little bit.” She was quiet a moment, thinking, and a little crease of concern appeared between her brows.
“I don’t think I’m really helping Rob Lee. He won’t talk to me. But at least I can ease Cady’s burden a little bit. It was too much for her to try and run the shop all alone.” Mary Dell sighed and clucked her tongue. “I sure wish she’d find a nice boyfriend. She’s too young and pretty to stay single. When you two go out to the Ice House, see if you can’t find some nice man for her to fall in love with. A sober one,” she added. “A church-goin’ man. Who has a steady job. And doesn’t chew. Or swear too much, but that last part would just be icing on the cake. Heck!” She laughed. “If you find a man like that, forget Cady and give him to me! A man like that’s as rare as hens’ teeth.”
Holly took a couple of backstitches in her block and gave Mary Dell a sideways glance, wondering how much she should reveal.
“Cady says you’ve already got a boyfriend—a secret admirer—and that he sends you flowers every day.”
“Oh, hush.” Mary Dell flapped her hand dismissively. “That’s just Hub-Jay; there’s nothing secret about him. And he doesn’t send flowers every day. More like every other.” She smiled a little. “He’s just trying to get my attention, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment.”
Holly pulled the block out from under the presser foot and clipped the threads.
“Any man that sent me flowers every other day would sure have my attention. Other than the corsage I got for prom, I don’t think anyone has ever given me flowers.”
“What? A pretty thing like you? I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true.” Holly shrugged and laid her block down against the edge of a ruler.
“Well,” Mary Dell said, smiling a remembering sort of smile, “I can tell you one thing; it doesn’t suck. Not at all.”
“You know what else doesn’t suck?” Holly asked, grinning as she turned her block ninety degrees, confirming her previous conclusion. “This quilt block. It measures exactly twelve and a half inches. Yes!” she cried, and pumped the air with her fist.
“Let me see!” Mary Dell took the block and held it close to her face, examining each seam. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. What did I tell you, baby girl? You’re a star!”
CHAPTER 22
Holly opened the paddock gate and walked inside, standing as far away as she could from Stormy. The horse wasn’t rearing, which was an improvement, but he was agitated, racing back and forth along the far fence and snorting and tossing his head.
Rob Lee was sitting astride Sarabeth, on the other side of the fence, keeping a close eye on everything. Though this was the third time they’d gone through the procedure of luring Stormy into the trailer, Rob Lee could see that Holly was scared. That was understandable. Holly weighed . . . what? Maybe a hundred and fifteen pounds? Stormy weighed a thousand and was doing his best to remind her of that, trying to look all big and badass so she would keep her distance.
“It’s all right,” Rob Lee called out, keeping his voice low and calm but loud enough to be heard. “He’s all bark and no bite, just trying to warn you off.”
Holly looked toward him and nodded, her eyes wide and easily visible even under the rolled brim of her newly acquired straw hat.
She looked good in that hat, he thought. Like she belonged. Definitely an improvement on those white wannabee rodeo queen boots she’d bought. Those were ridiculous. But how could a girl not look cute in a cowboy hat? Or, in Holly’s case, even cuter. And the cutest thing of all was that she was spending her money and time to rescue and rehabilitate this horse that clearly scared the crap out of her.
“Okay, call Mildred to you and get the lead on her. Just like before.”
Holly took some apple chunks out of her pocket and held them out where the goat could see them. “Mildred? Mildred, come here. I’ve got apples for you.”
The goat, who had been rubbing her head against the slats in the fence, scratching her face, turned toward the sound of Holly’s voice, let out a bleat, and started walking quickly toward Holly, eager to get the treat.
Stormy’s ears perked up too. His frantic running slowed to a walk as he watched Mildred cross the paddock. When the goat actually reached Holly and started munching the apple, Stormy stopped pacing entirely and just stood there, watching.
Watching Stormy’s face while Holly attached a long lead rope to Mildred’s collar, Rob Lee could almost see the tug-of-war going on in the horse’s mind, the battle between the instinct to follow his new friend and the need to keep a safe distance from unpredictable humans. In the end, the need to stay safe won. Stormy stood his ground. But, at least for a couple of seconds there, he’d considered taking a chance. It was a start.
After giving the goat another piece of apple, Holly took one end of the lead and passed it over the fence to Rob Lee.
“Okay,” he said, wrapping the rope loosely around his hand, “open the gate for me and then hop out of there. You filled up the manger in the trailer, right?”
“Uh-huh. And I put in some oats and the apple you got from the vet. But I thought you said you didn’t want to use tranquilizers.”
“This one is very mild. It won’t knock him out; just take the edge off the anxiety.”
Holly nodded her understanding and swung open the gate. Rob Lee rode through on Sarabeth’s back, taking up the slack in Mildred’s lead rope as he moved closer and coiling it into a loop over the horn of his saddle.
With the goat in tow, Rob Lee rode toward Stormy. This was the tricky part, getting close enough so he could grab hold of the four-foot-long rope that hung from Stormy’s halter. He wanted Sarabeth to approach slowly, as if she were just ambling over to say hello and didn’t have a cowboy on her back, getting close enough so Rob Lee could lean down and get hold of the rope without scaring Stormy into backing away or running off.
That was the ideal. But it hadn’t worked out like that on their two practice runs. Oh, he’d gotten hold of the rope, but he’d had to chase after Stormy to do it. Today, though, it did work.
Rob Lee squeezed his legs gently against Sarabeth’s sides to urge her forward, and then, after a few steps, he tugged the reins a little bit so she’d stop, and they just sat there for a couple of minutes before moving forward again. With each repetition, Stormy moved his feet and sputtered a little, but he didn’t back up or run as he’d done in the past. Slowly, they edged forward, a few feet each time, until Stormy and Sarabeth were close enough to touch noses. When they did, Rob Lee reached down to catch hold of the lead and tie the end to a longer piece of rope he had looped over the horn of his saddle.
Once the knot was secure, he squeezed his knees again and Sarabeth walked on while Rob Lee fed out the rope a good two lengths behind, at which point Stormy started following along with Mildred at his side, bleating now and again but otherwise displaying remarkable decorum for a goat.
The little caravan walked calmly through the paddock gate and across the grass toward the open back of the horse trailer. As they approached, Rob Lee hopped lightly off Sarabeth’s back and led her up the ramp and into the trailer. Mildred and Stormy followed her in like baby ducks trailing their mother, and Rob Lee made a quick exit through the escape door at the front of th
e trailer. As soon as he did, Holly, according to plan, closed and locked the trailer’s rear doors, and that was that.
Closing the escape, Rob Lee leaned against the metal door for a moment. “Good boy, Stormy,” he whispered. “Good boy.”
When he walked around the rear of the trailer, Holly was there to greet him. “I can’t believe how easy that was!”
“It was easy because we spent five days working up to it, but . . . yeah,” he said, “I was kind of surprised myself. He’s fussing a little bit now, though; hear it? He just realized that you closed the door.”
They were silent for a moment, listening to the sound of Stormy sputtering and testing the trailer floor with his hooves, as well as the sound of steady munching while Sarabeth enjoyed the reward of oats and apples they’d left in her manger. After a few moments the sound of one munching horse became the sound of two.
“Now what?” Holly asked.
“We wait for him to finish eating that apple and make sure he’s calm. Then we drive back to the ranch, real slow, maybe five miles an hour. You’re going to keep listening to see if he gets agitated. If he does, we’ll pull over until he calms down and try again. If he handles it okay, we might go a little faster, but not much.”
“Sounds like it could take a while.”
“Could be a couple of hours, could be the rest of the day. You got anywhere you need to be?” She shook her head. “Okay, good. I’m going to need you to keep an eye on the side mirrors too. If anybody comes up behind us, you wave them around. But, hopefully, that won’t happen much.”
“So, what do we do now? Until the tranquilizer has a chance to work?”
“We wait.”
They found a spot of shade under a tree and sat down to wait on a patch of parched grass. Rob Lee got a couple of bottles of Dr Pepper out of the cab of the truck and handed one to Holly. She offered him one of the pieces of unmedicated apple she had left over in her pocket.
They sat there eating and drinking silently, lost in their thoughts.
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