A Texan for Hire (Welcome to Ramblewood)

by Amanda Renee

  Kay’s eyes narrowed and Clay fought back a smile. He never thought the day would come where he’d best the woman at her own game.

  “You’re right, she would.” Kay smirked. “After lunch, we’ll get her on one of our ponies. By then, Ever will be home from school and she can help out.” Kay turned to Abby. “Ever is my granddaughter. She has cerebral palsy, and hippotherapy took her from being wheelchair bound to being able to walk with only braces on her legs.”

  “I’d love to meet her.” Abby watched one of the therapists work with a rider in the corral. “And Clay’s correct. As a physical therapist I’d like to experience the same process a patient would. The things you do here are incredible. I knew you had the cottages for the long-term residents and their families and I knew how certain things worked from the videos you posted online, but to see it in person is amazing.”

  Abby wiped her cheek with shaky fingers. Her emotion touched Clay as they watched the riders.

  “It’s okay, dear.” Kay rubbed Abby’s back.

  “I’m sorry.” She attempted to laugh. “When I see someone making progress with their therapy, it sometimes overwhelms me. Especially when it involves animals. This is why I’m urging the hospital to consider nonconventional therapy.”

  Kay protectively wrapped an arm around Abby. “I know you have a job in Charleston and your dedication to your patients is remarkable, but if this is something you’d be interested in seriously pursuing, I can fit you in here. You’d have to get your PATH certification...meaning the Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship, but I’d help you with that. Don’t answer just yet. Mull it over and see how you feel about it.”

  Abby looked up at Kay, eyes wide. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I don’t see how I possibly could, but I’ll consider it.”

  “Then tomorrow Clay can start giving you actual riding lessons since the saddle we use for hippotherapy is completely different than the tack you use to ride a horse for pleasure. If you’re in Texas, riding is a must.”

  The woman didn’t miss an opportunity. Clay was still trying to process Kay offering Abby a job and now she had promised riding lessons on his behalf.

  “I—I don’t want to impose on you, Clay,” Abby stammered.

  “You wouldn’t be.” Clay knew his heart had reached the danger zone.

  “There you have it.” Kay smiled, squeezed herself in between them and wrapped her arms around Clay and Abby, directing them toward the house. “Let’s have lunch, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Robotically, Clay walked with them. Regardless of how slight the chances were that Abby would accept Kay’s offer, it was officially a real possibility. And that scared Clay to death.

  Chapter Five

  “I can’t believe she offered me a job.” Abby poured her third cup of coffee before daybreak. “She doesn’t even know who I am.”

  “That’s Kay Langtry and that’s the way Joe lived his life and ran his business.” Mazie bustled around the inn’s kitchen preparing blueberry scones for breakfast. “I can’t even begin to tell you how many people got second chances and new lives around this town because of the Langtrys.”

  “What time is it, anyway?” The last clock Abby had checked read four in the morning.

  “I’m guessing it’s almost five.”

  “I’ve heard of waking up with the chickens, but you’re up way before they are. Are you always in the kitchen this early?”

  “Usually. I don’t require much sleep. I like to offer my guests a good breakfast. I don’t go all out like I do for a dinner, but I like fresh breads, scones and croissants...and those things take time.”

  “You’re the Martha Stewart of Texas.” Abby laughed.

  “You sound like Lexi. My sister’s always ragging on me, but you’ve never seen more of a workaholic than that one. Well, she was until she got married last year. I never thought I’d see the day that the wild and rebellious Lexi Lawson would settle down. She was definitely voted least likely to tie the knot around here. Speaking of romance, what’s going on with you and the P.I.?”

  “He’s giving me a riding lesson this morning,” Abby said over her coffee. “I’m excited. Yesterday was my first time on a horse and it was amazing. The therapists at Dance of Hope are unbelievable. Everyone works together as a team and after meeting some of the long-term patients, I’m even more impressed with the facility. I know it’s foolish even to consider Kay’s offer, but she asked me to think it over. In the meantime, I thought I’d make the most of my trip and learn all I can about horses.”

  “Whose idea was it for Clay to become your personal trainer?” Mazie stilled the wooden spoon in her mixing bowl and faced Abby. “I’d think the best way for you to learn would be at Bridle Dance, where you could split your time between Dance of Hope and working with one of the grooms in the main stables.”

  “It was Kay’s idea,” Abby admitted.

  “She’s certainly become the busy matchmaker.”

  Abby tensed at Mazie’s clipped tone. “Are you interested in Clay?”

  Mazie almost dropped her bowl. “God, no. Trust me, I have absolutely no interest in Clay. I had my big romance with a pastry instructor in Paris—it came, it went and I will probably never experience anything close to it again. Clay’s been pretty closed off since he came back to town. Lexi told me he had his heart broken when he was in the ATF, and whoever the woman was, it had a profound effect on him. I don’t know if you plan to keep this little romance you two have going long distance or if you plan to continue it if you do move here, but just keep your eyes open with Clay.”

  “There’s no romance. We shared one kiss and I doubt it will be repeated.” Especially since Kay had foisted her on the man. Friendship, on the other hand, that was a possibility.

  Mazie joined Abby at the table. “Why do you want to leave Charleston? I thought you were determined to see this animal therapy thing through at your hospital.”

  “I don’t want to leave. I have a great job that pays very well and an incredible benefits package I’d hate to lose. My patients can be difficult, but understandably so. They usually have long journeys ahead of them and it’s my job to see them through it.” She clasped her hands together. “While the hospital and I don’t agree on the AAT program, my job’s not in any danger. Honestly, I’ve put in too much time there to walk away for something I know very little about. I don’t even know if I could swing it financially. Between all the training I’d have to do, I probably wouldn’t earn a salary for a while, never mind the expenses on the house my brother and I share.” She sighed. “Once I do pull a salary, I’m sure it won’t be anything close to what I make at the hospital, considering Dance of Hope is a nonprofit.”

  “Sounds like you’ve already decided,” Mazie said. “Hippotherapy is very different from the therapy you want to introduce into the hospital.”

  Abby sipped her coffee. “I can’t even begin to tell you what it was like to see those therapy animals at work on a scale as grand as an equine facility.” She set her cup on the table. “I’d heard of PATH International before, but other than their name, I didn’t know much about them. I’ll admit, hippotherapy does fascinate me. The sheer fact that the rhythmic movements of the horse are used as a treatment for a variety of disorders from head and spine injuries to scoliosis is an opportunity I almost feel foolish to pass up.”

  “I wish you could see your face right now,” Mazie tittered. “You’re positively beaming.”

  Abby touched her cheeks. “When I sat on that horse, I gained a new perspective about what therapy patients feel and see. It was my first time on a horse, as I’m sure it is for many patients, and that alone was scary. But then you had the whole process. The thin fabric saddle allowed me to feel the horse beneath me. And even though I had two large handles to hold on to and assistants on either side of me, I w
as still scared. But Gracie—she was the physical therapist who showed me how a typical session works—was able to relax me so I could focus on the horse. It blew me away.” She clapped her hands. “And then I actually saw a patient in town! Based on what I witnessed with her and the research I’ve done, she might be a good candidate for hippotherapy. I need to consult with Dance of Hope, of course, but it was great to know that option is available for the woman.”

  “You know, there’s no harm in making a pros-and-cons list and see where it leads you.” Mazie stood and lined a cookie sheet with parchment paper. “You’d better go get ready to meet Clay. I’ll fix you a picnic breakfast to take with you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. The man has his hands full on that ranch by himself, and he’ll be champing at the bit to get started this morning.”

  Abby bounded up the first few steps before she remembered the early hour. Not wanting to wake the other guests, she tiptoed the rest of the way. She closed the door to her room, then grabbed her robe and padded into the bathroom. As she stared at herself in the mirror, she once again wondered if her sister looked anything like her. “Walter, I need more of a clue. Am I even in the right place?”

  Immediately, her thoughts turned to Clay. He was the one person who could provide the answers, if only he could find the key. There was more going on here than just a missing sister. If Ramblewood was the right place, Walter would have known about Dance of Hope. Abby had discussed the hospital’s rejections with him, and he knew how much an AAT program meant to her. But he couldn’t possibly have known about Clay...could he? The man was the only private investigator in town.

  “This is crazy.” Abby turned on the shower and stepped under the water. “There’s no possible way he could have known.”

  * * *

  CLAY WAS SURPRISED to see Abby’s Mini Cooper maneuver down his dirt driveway near the barn. Granted, he had told her she could come over for a riding lesson, but he hadn’t thought it would be this early. He wanted to try to locate Beau again this morning and discover why the man had skipped out on him so abruptly the other night at Slater’s Mill.

  Abby waved through the windshield. She stepped out and leaned on the open-windowed door. “I should’ve called first. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think. Is this an okay time?”

  “Sure. I didn’t think you city folk got up this early.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call myself a city person. Charleston isn’t like New York or Los Angeles. Have you ever been?”

  “No, but I’d like to see it someday.”

  “I know just the place to take you.” Abby’s exhilaration lit her face and instantly Clay envisioned himself walking through the historic city with Abby by his side.

  He cleared his throat. “I can, uh, spend a few hours with you this morning before I have to get to work. I have a full load between your case and a couple others. A good portion of my day will be online and back at the courthouse. I swear I should just move my office in there.”

  “I thought you said you don’t have one.” Abby closed her car door and walked in his direction. Her barely there makeup and still-damp hair, which fell past her shoulders in waves, accentuated her natural beauty.

  “I don’t.” Clay strained to focus on the conversation. “I work out of my house, which is a sore subject right now. I’ve thought about renting some space in town, especially after one of my clients chastised me for meeting her in a luncheonette.”

  Abby jutted her chin upward. “I didn’t chastise you. I just questioned it. It seemed a little odd.”

  Clay chuckled. “Well, don’t just stand there.” He motioned for Abby to follow him. “Let’s get you on a horse.”

  “I didn’t realize you had so many animals.” She stopped to peer into one of the pigpens. “You don’t kill them, do you?”

  Her big forget-me-not blue eyes gazed up at him. “Abby, where do you think bacon comes from?”

  “I know, but—”

  “Relax,” Clay reassured. “Here’s the deal, and I’m only telling you this to prove what a stooge I am. Money’s tight in these parts. Farming and ranching isn’t what it used to be, and when my clients can’t pay me in cash I end up with one of their animals in payment. The horse you’ll be riding happens to be one of those payments. So no, I don’t kill them. I house them, feed them, and watch my bank account dwindle because of them.”

  “I think I found another reason to like you.” Abby walked into the barn.

  “Thanks, I think.” The extra beat his heart took at her comment unnerved Clay. He didn’t want a relationship with Abby. Correction. He didn’t need a relationship with Abby. But damned if his body didn’t betray him at the thought.

  Clay took a moment to steady himself before entering the barn. He clipped lead ropes to each horse’s halter. “This is Olivia.” Clay led the Welsh pony out alongside Dream Catcher.

  “They look like twins.” Abby ran her hand over Olivia’s platinum mane and across her slate-gray back. The horse turned, giving Abby the once-over. “She’s not as small as I thought she would be.”

  “She’s almost thirteen hands, which in layman’s terms would be a little over four feet to her withers.”

  “Withers?” Abby asked.

  “The highest part of the horse’s back, at the base of the neck.” Clay ran his hand over the horse’s shoulder before heading back into the barn for Olivia’s saddle and bridle.

  “Why do they measure in hands?” Abby asked when he returned.

  “A hand is four inches.” Clay placed a small pad and blanket on the pony’s back before adding the saddle. “Measuring in hands dates back to ancient Egyptian times where a hand was the equivalent of the width of a male adult hand. It’s a custom that’s survived thousands of years.”

  “How tall is your horse?”

  “Dream Catcher is a Morgan and he is 15.2 hands high. He’s actually at the top of the height range for his breed.” After tightening the saddle cinch straps, Clay removed Olivia’s halter and slipped a bitless bridle over the pony’s head. “Ready to hop on?”

  “Approach from the left side, correct?” Abby asked.

  “I take it Gracie taught you some basic horsemanship yesterday when you were at Dance of Hope.” Clay smiled. “Sorry I couldn’t stay, and while I’m apologizing, I’m sorry for running out on you the other night. Believe me when I tell you, it’s nothing you’ve done wrong. You’re perfect.”

  Abby’s eyes widened. “Well, thank you.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Yeah, that was the perfect response.

  “Alrighty then.” Abby moved closer to Olivia. “Moving on.”

  “I’m not saying you’re not perfect.” Clay fumbled for the right words. “Oh, forget it. I’m sorry I put you on the spot and kissed you in front of everyone.”

  “I’m not.” Abby faced Clay. Less than a foot separated them. “I rather enjoyed it while it lasted.”

  Abby’s matter-of-factness caught Clay off guard. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around to face Olivia. For the briefest of moments he wanted to pull her close and wrap his arms around her. “Place your foot in the stirrup, get a good hop going and swing your leg over.”

  With the agility of a dancer, Abby hopped once and slid into the saddle like a seasoned pro.

  “I love their coloring.” She leaned forward and hugged Olivia’s neck.

  “It’s called silver dapple and only a few breeds have it.”

  “Their manes and tails are as blond as I am.” Abby shifted slightly in her saddle and patted the pony. “I think she looks like me, don’t you?”

  “You don’t have her dark roots, at least not that I can tell, anyway,” Clay teased. “If you look closely at her mane, you’ll notice her roots are quite a bit darker. Her eyelashes are blond and both Olivia’s and Dream Catcher’s legs fade from g
ray to almost white. Their hooves are what is known as striped, meaning they’re white with darker stripes running vertically in them.”

  “Aren’t you riding with me?” Abby looked at Dream Catcher still loosely tied to a hitching post. “He doesn’t have a saddle.”

  Clay shook his head. “I’m going to turn Dream Catcher out in the pasture before I walk you around on Olivia. I want you to get the nitty-gritties down before we head out on a trail.”

  Teaching Abby how to ride a horse was the last thing he wanted to do. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. If he were honest, he’d admit he had looked forward to the lesson. He had actually wondered if Abby would show.

  Abby remained focused on Clay’s instruction as he led her around. Accepting the pony in return for payment had been an unexpected burden, but this morning, he was grateful that his client hadn’t had the cash to pay him.

  For someone who’d never ridden, Abby exuded more confidence than he had expected, though her death grip on the saddle horn told a different story. She was slightly afraid, and that was okay. She may not know how to hold the reins or where to place her feet, but she knew how to sit up straight in the saddle. Probably due to Gracie’s teaching yesterday.

  “Be gentle with me.” Abby’s smile made Clay want to grasp the back of her head and pull her close for a kiss. She definitely knew how to test his resolve.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” What the heck was that? He shouldn’t flirt with her, yet that’s exactly what he was doing.

  “Have you ever taught someone how to ride before?” Abby asked.

  “A few people.” Clay adjusted the length of her stirrups, trying to avoid touching her shapely calf at the same time. “Some bigger, some smaller than you. I know sneakers are comfortable, but if you’re going to ride a horse, you really need a boot with a small heel. They don’t have to be cowboy boots, they can be lace-up ropers, but you need something that will prevent your feet from sliding through the stirrups. And that doesn’t mean a four-inch heel.”