Second Hope

by J. B. McDonald

  “Come on,” he murmured into her hair. “Let’s go.”

  She nodded wordlessly.

  It took them almost twenty minutes to get out the door. Nat was easily distracted, her mind wandering off at random with thoughts that couldn’t be good. Cole kept trying to move her along without prodding, and when they were finally in the truck and on their way he didn’t force a conversation.

  Mostly, Nat looked out the window, staring at the desert as it rolled by. They reached the doctor’s office with a few minutes to spare, and she elected to wait in the car.

  The news was what he’d expected: his shoulder was fine, the tendons healed. The nurse congratulated him on a job well done, and he headed out forty-five minutes after he’d walked in, without a sling and with extensive orders on physical therapy to rebuild the muscle that would support the joint.

  Nat was sitting in the truck bed, watching the world go by. In this sleepy little town the world didn’t amount to much; two theatres, various restaurants, their tiny little baseball team and one doctor. There were three lawyers, but they all had other full-time jobs.

  “Hey, beautiful,” Cole said as he walked up and leaned both arms on the edge of the truck bed. “How are you holding up?”

  Not as well as he’d hoped, he realized when she looked down at him. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, though her expression was calm. “You promised me dark glasses. Sun’s bright.”

  He took the answer at face value, nodding amiably. “So I did. C’mon down.” He lifted both arms, catching her under hers and pulling her out of the truck. He held her close, just feeling the way she breathed against him, and wondered what he could do to make it better. He knew the answer to that, though: nothing. Time would heal this wound.

  With a final stroke down her back he turned, wrapping his arm around her—it felt oddly free, after all that time bound to his side—and ambling down the street.

  It was a cute little town, with adobe buildings and double sidewalks—brick for the people, and then a packed dirt path with rails for the horse traffic. Not many horses came through, though some of the stores catered to the atmosphere by putting hitching posts out front. The town proclaimed itself horse-friendly, doing most of its business in tourism. A large golf course had been built nearby, and sand dunes for desert buggies were just a half-hour drive away.

  The stores were tourist-friendly. A lot of knick-knack type places, shops for souvenirs, cozy little diners and a few bed and breakfasts.

  He gave a small smile at the thought of them, remembering when he’d first announced he wanted to come to the ranch with Fleet, and how Nat had advised him of the lovely B and B’s in town. He was glad he’d been a pain, a temperamental owner as she put it, and remained at the ranch. He doubted he’d be walking with her down the sidewalk now, his arm around her shoulders, if he hadn’t.

  He tightened his grip slightly, turning to brush his nose over the soft waves of her ebony hair. She’d left it down, hanging to her shoulder blades, and it was drying slowly. It felt cool against his skin, heavy with moisture, soft and silky. “How are you holding up?” he murmured.

  “I’m all right. In here.” She pushed against him, steering them around and into a little mom-and-pop store filled with odds and ends.

  Cole let go of her to walk through the door, then lingered by a rack of postcards as she headed to a stand filled with sunglasses. She wore a fragile air that he wasn’t used to seeing, her skin so pale it was almost translucent. And yet she wasn’t as devastated as he’d expected. Somehow, he’d expected an emotional wreck, even knowing she’d been through this before, knowing that losing horses was part and parcel of rehabilitating them.

  Still, a horse dying was different than having to put one down, especially as violently as what had happened with Buddha—even if that had been the kindest thing to do. Watching her move with exaggerated care, he wondered if it hadn’t been the first time.

  He paid for the sunglasses when she’d found some—an endeavor that took only a few minutes, rather than the half hour he’d expected—and they headed back out into the sun.

  At every turn she surprised him. Not the girly cowgirl he’d known so many times before, but a powerful woman, one of the true horsewomen that were as rare as true horsemen. Someone who was made of steel both mentally and physically. Someone who could deal with the rigors of day-to-day life with a half-ton animal, the problems and hassles, and not be frightened off by striking hooves or panicked spooking. Someone level-headed enough to deal with an animal’s emotional ups and downs without losing patience—not always an easy task.

  He hadn’t met many like her, and none as strong as she was. He didn’t want to let her go.

  It hit him suddenly, like a stampede. He would be leaving in a few weeks, maybe less, and he truly didn’t want to let her go. He’d known his whole life that if he ever slowed down enough to have a relationship, he’d be thrilled to find one like his parents had enjoyed—like his father and stepmother had now. Companionship and sensuality, a partnership in all ways, each with their own lives but glad to share with the person they’d chosen.

  He wanted that. He’d always wanted that. Now, he thought maybe he’d found it—except she lived in another state.

  He’d already given some thought to how it might be possible to continue this—whatever this was—after he’d gone home. But with the realization that this was it, that she was the woman he’d been waiting to find, it became a great deal more important.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Hm?” He glanced at her, taking in high cheekbones and full lips.

  “You’re frowning.”

  “Am I?” He stopped, turned to face her, and placed a kiss on her mouth. “I think I love you.” He didn’t say it for a reaction, he said it with a bit of surprise, a touch of rue. She was more complicated than anyone he’d hoped to fall in love with.

  Nat didn’t panic, at least. He’d been half expecting her to do just that, since her parents hadn’t been the healthiest example of a committed relationship. She did, however, frown—the crease between her elegantly arched brows was obvious even behind the sunglasses. “You pick a hell of a time to decide that,” she said with no small amount of disgust, and started walking again.

  Cole caught her hand in his, tangling their fingers. He was pleased to note that she didn’t try to stop it. “I know. I’m sorry, it’s not appropriate. But I do think it might be happening.”

  She didn’t say anything, and they walked in silence. Store windows passed them by. Antiques, a malt shop, jewelry. The little building claiming to be a museum had an old, worn down statue of a Native American out front in full feathered regalia. There was a feed and tack store next to it, with a statue of a horse also in Native American dress.

  “He had a bow and arrows for a while, too,” Nat said, pointing to the equine. “Jameson—who owns the museum—said it was disgraceful. So they added a loin cloth and war paint.” Had she been any less tired, Cole guessed she would have smiled. Her face softened for a moment, shoulders relaxing. Then she shrugged. “It all got stolen, though.”

  He chuckled. “That’s a pity.” They passed by a small convenience store, and he tugged her inside. “Rocky road or vanilla?” He peered down into the little freezer tub filled with popsicles and pints of ice cream, sharing space with bait and chicken legs.

  “Mocha.”

  His mouth tipped up at the corners and he glanced at Nat to see if she was serious. It was hard to tell from behind the glasses. He opened the case and pulled out the Haagen Daaz mocha flavor, paying for it at the counter and taking two plastic spoons.

  “There’s a park around the corner, right?”

  She nodded as they stepped back out into the sunshine.

  It wasn’t much of a park; a little patch of grass was trying to survive under a few oak trees. A table and bench sat beneath a wood and brick arbor, and three swings hung from a metal frame not far away. Mostly it was hard-packed dirt, though a joggi
ng path had been outlined with rocks along one side.

  He led Nat to the little seating area, boosting himself to sit up on the table, his feet on the bench, and giving her a hand as she stepped up beside him. He pried open the lid to the ice cream and offered her a spoon.

  “Thanks.” Her voice was subdued, the sunglasses still firmly in place as she scraped the edge of her spoon across the smooth top of the treat and popped it in her mouth.

  They stared out at nothing for a while, taking turns at the pint. It began to melt around the edges in no time at all, while Cole’s hand began to go numb. He braced the carton on his knee so the denim could protect his skin, balancing it with a loose grip.

  “Tell me about Buddha?” He kept his voice soft in deference to the grief he could feel settling around them. Cole already knew the horse’s history, but he hoped talking would help.

  “He was…” She laughed quietly, ducking her head. Hair fell around her face in a thick curtain, swaying with its own momentum. “He was a spaz.” She tucked her hair back behind her ear, looking up over the park. “I took him out on trail once. He spent the whole time prancing sideways and trying to convince me we should race Taylor. When he finally realized that wasn’t what Taylor was there for, he decided the poor gelding must be a pony horse and spent the rest of the ride bouncing into him.”

  Her mouth twitched up. “His registered name was ‘Finding Buddha’s Nirvana’.” She shot a wry glance at Cole. “Buddha was better than calling him Nirvana. I think we hoped it might make him calm down.”

  They fell quiet. The sun inched farther into their little shelter. Cole was almost surprised when Nat spoke again.

  “He won several hundred thousand dollars in racing before he went lame. Twisted his knee. It healed all right, but it cut his speed down, and they’d already gelded him…”

  Cole nodded. In the racehorse world, being sexually fixed and physically broken was often a death sentence. Instead, Buddha had retired at the ranch.

  “I told you about his barrel racing, right?”

  Cole nodded wordlessly.

  “It was his big fat turns that were why the kids could ride him. He didn’t tip like other racers did, and they had a better chance of staying on. All they had to do was grab the horn and go.” She smiled, pulling her sunglasses off to rub at her wet eyes. “One of the kids—one of Aaron’s younger siblings—tried him in keyhole once. Straight lines reminded him too much of racing, though. He ran right through the end and kept going. Aaron’s little sister was a heck of a rider. Stayed with him right over the fence and practically off into the sunset.” She paused, giving it some thought. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that she was egging him on by that point…”

  Cole smiled at the image that conjured, lifting one hand to smooth it down Nat’s hair. She leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed. “He sounds like a great horse.”

  She nodded wordlessly. Lifting her hand again, she wiped moisture off her cheeks. “The Arizona Fish and Game department will want to come out. Take a look at the cat.”

  “Can Aaron handle that?”

  She nodded again.

  “Then you don’t have to worry about it.” He smoothed his hand down her hair again, threading his fingers through the damp locks and fanning them out over her shoulders.

  “Jesus,” she whispered behind her hand. “I shot him.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She settled the glasses over her face, but tears slipped from beneath them. Her body shook.

  “You did what you had to. He was in pain. That was a kindness,” Cole murmured against her. He wasn’t sure that she heard.

  The sun crept closer as they sat. His shirt grew damp under her face. He didn’t care.

  Eventually, she pulled away. With a deep breath, she turned to give him a watery smile. “So tell me what your ranch is like.”

  He set the ice cream down on the bench between their feet, leaning his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands as he thought. “We don’t have a horse pool.”

  It earned a wobbly laugh.

  He smiled back, and thought again. “It’s big. Well—big for California. We have about twenty acres. A lot of that is pasture for the mares and foals. There’s three big mare motels, and two twenty-horse barns.”

  “Wow.”

  He glanced over, amused at her look of surprise. “Two outdoor arenas, one indoor arena. A shed for the grader, and we run that in all the arenas daily.”

  “How many horses?”

  “Oh…” He tipped his head, doing a quick mental count. “We vary between a hundred-twenty and one-fifty. Mind you, that includes the mares and foals—there’s close to forty of them right now, and most aren’t mine. People board them for breeding and until the babies are weaned, then their owners either take them home or put them in training somewhere.”

  “Not with you?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes with me, sometimes not.”

  “But you can’t possibly train eighty horses.”

  He grinned, glancing sidelong. “No. I have three trainers who work under me, now. And a lot of the horses are mine, but retired—they stay on for studding or breeding purposes.”

  She still looked a little shell-shocked. “How can you fit that many horses in twenty acres?”

  “Lots of corrals.” He laughed.

  She smiled at him, and there was a touch of sadness in it. “Sounds like you have everything set up pretty perfectly.”

  He nodded, trying to distract her from the melancholy in her expression. “It’s a good place. Took a while to get going, but once we did…everything runs smoothly. It’s not too cold in the winter—the horses get fuzzy, but none of them need blankets. No snow or ice, and since it’s desert the arenas stay fairly dry. The summers get hot, but we have fans in all the covered corrals, the barns and the indoor arena.” It was likely the weather was close to the same here, but he spoke anyway, offering a distraction as best he could.

  Somehow, though, her smile only got sadder.

  “Why do you do this?” He wasn’t able to stop the words from coming out, though he wished he could take them back. But when she didn’t flinch, only looked at him in confusion, he added, “Rescue horses. It just…it seems like a lot of heartache. Do you ever consider leaving this place to someone else? Letting Aaron run it, and go live elsewhere?” Because if she did, if that were an option, she could go live with him.

  It wasn’t a worthy thought, using Buddha’s death to his advantage. Even as he knew what he was doing was wrong, he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. He wanted her, wanted her in his home and in his life. The last three weeks had been phenomenal, and he didn’t want to give them up.

  She dropped her gaze, shaking her head as she did so. “I couldn’t do that. Leave all of them? Everyone? No. These horses need me. I put this place together myself. Sometimes it hurts, and sometimes they can’t be saved…but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying. For every one that doesn’t make it, that has to be put down or dies in a freak accident, there are twenty more who do make it, who can go back to their former lives or, if not that, start new lives.” She smiled, but there was no humor in it. “I’m not dealing with life-and-death situations most of the time. Most of the time, it’s horses like Fleet or Kahaia. The Beautys and Emmas are not the majority of my cases.” Her gaze fell, clouding over. “And the Buddhas almost never happen.”

  He wanted to deny everything she’d said, to tell her she was a fool and should give it up and go live with him. He didn’t. None of that was true, and if she were willing to stop what was so important to her that easily, he wouldn’t be as attracted to her. He wouldn’t be falling in love.

  She seemed to sense his line of thought. Her expression was wry as she asked, “Would you ever consider quitting reining? Leaving the breeding and training to someone else, let them take over all the competitions?”

  “No.” The word was almost dragged from him, appalled at the suggestion.
Then he realized it was what he was asking her, and smiled dryly. “You could just do less of what you do. I’m sure any big barn would love to have someone who could rehabilitate horses. Heck, there’d be a spot for that in my barn.” He tossed it out, knowing what her response would be but needing to try anyway.

  Her eyebrows rose slightly, and she shook her head. “Go from owning my own place with all that entails to working for someone else? Do you really see that playing out well?”

  He didn’t even bother to agree with her. The corner of his mouth twisted up, but it wasn’t humorous.

  This was what they had, then. These weeks this summer, maybe another few weekends when one or the other of them could get away. Maybe a few winter weeks, when the reining season died down and he could be spared. He couldn’t leave his life’s blood, the joy and pride that went with his work, and she couldn’t leave hers any easier.

  They sat on the bench with ice cream melting between them. The sun crept ever nearer, gradually sliding over their toes and up their legs.

  “I’m not ready to go back yet,” Nat mumbled. “Do you want to see a movie?”

  Cole nodded, relieved, and hopped down off the table.

  None of the theatres were in walking distance. They headed back to the truck in amiable silence, and he drove them to the nearest cinema.

  After the movie came a very late lunch, or a slightly early dinner, depending on whether you counted the number of meals she’d had or the time of day in which she’d eaten. Nat didn’t worry too much about it, just enjoyed the easy atmosphere of the Mexican restaurant, letting the happy ease that the action-adventure movie had instilled linger.

  “If I ever decide to go look for ancient ruins, I’m going to invest in some gymnastics lessons first,” Cole said, smiling at the server as he handed his menu over.