by Mae Nunn
“What in the Sam Houston?” Buster grabbed her by both shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“I am now.”
“Tell me what happened.” Buster put his arm around her. “But let’s go home first.”
They walked across the yard to the house and went inside through the front door. Once in the living room, Stella sat down on the couch and put her head in her hands. Buster sat beside her. “What’s the matter, Pretty? I’m here.”
A single tear escaped from each of Stella’s eyes and she wiped them on her sleeve. Those were practically the same words Clint had said to comfort Cade, words she’d heard before. Buster pulled a bandana out of his overalls’ pocket and handed it to her. She blew her nose.
“We had an accident at the school. That stupid Joiner put Clint Cavender’s son on his giant thoroughbred polo horse and it bucked him off. He and his father both! I walked in to find them on the ground in the arena, bleeding. The little boy was screaming!”
“Was anyone seriously hurt?”
“Clint has a sprained ankle and Cade had a cut on his knee. But they’ll be okay.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
“I should fire Joiner. I thought he was really good, and he is a hard worker, but…”
Buster made a face. “Fire him? Joiner? What in heck are you talking about?”
Stella looked up at her daddy. “He’s reckless, Pops. He proved that today. Oh, did he ever prove it! I can’t have that around Star Stables. I won’t!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Just a minute here.” Buster scratched his beard. “What exactly is going on?”
Stella sighed heavily. “Daune said Cade and his dad made a big deal over Pistol on the first day. The little boy thought the horse was really awesome. So apparently, Joiner made some kind of offer to the little boy that if he did well with Daisy, he could try riding Pistol. So he puts him on Pistol today—the second day we’re even open! Without consulting me first!”
“Did the little boy do well with Daisy?”
“Duane said he did great, and that he begged to get on Pistol. But that’s beside the point!”
“You said his father was there, too…”
“He was on the horse with him.”
“So Clint thought it was a good idea? Something that would be okay for Cade to try?”
“I guess. But Clint obviously had no idea what was going to happen.”
“That’s the thing. Most of us rarely do know what will happen. We just do the best we can.”
Stella shook her head. “I can’t believe you.”
“What?”
“You’re siding with Joiner Temple over me!”
“I didn’t realize this was a competition.”
“It’s not! Star Stables is my vision—mine and yours—a way to honor Moma’s memory. And the first and most important thing to me is safety!”
Buster patted her knee. “Pretty, you’ll have to work this thing out with Joiner, what happened today. You’re right that the school is yours. And he works for you, even though he and I have an arrangement. But I don’t think that’s all that’s going on here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you had one of your anxiety attacks, didn’t you? Back at the barn.”
“I did. It was brutal.”
“What happened today with the Cavenders was bad, but what made it unbearable for you is that it was a trigger for something else—your grief over losing your mother. A desire to make sure no accident like hers happens again. Not here. Not in our arena.”
Another tear escaped down Stella’s cheek. This time Buster wiped it for her.
“I’d make sure it didn’t happen anywhere, ever again, to anyone else, if I could.”
“But you can’t, kiddo.” Buster looked her hard in the eyes. “You can’t. And maybe it’s time you quit trying.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JOINER DROVE OUT of town, not really knowing where he was going. The good thing about East Texas was that there were plenty of long, straight, country highways, and not so many cops that a man couldn’t drive fast now and then when he needed to think. Joiner turned up the stereo loud so George Strait could keep him company.
He passed a lot of cows. Also some horses. Oil wells dotted the landscape, which was mostly flat and green. His phone buzzed but Joiner didn’t answer it, didn’t even look at it. Whoever was calling could wait. For their sake as well as his own, Joiner couldn’t talk right now.
The question uppermost in his mind was not whether it had been right to put Cade up on Pistol. Maybe it had been right and maybe it had been wrong. Either way, he was sorry the boy had gotten hurt. Clint, too. But it was a freak accident. Sure, Daisy wasn’t as big and powerful as Pistol, but the same kind of thing could have happened when Cade was riding her. It could happen any time a horse got spooked.
What bothered Joiner was how Stella had reacted. He’d only been trying to help one of her clients. But she hadn’t even listened to his side, she’d just flipped a switch. The same woman who’d freaked out on him was the same amazing lady who just three nights ago had laid beside him on a blanket and kissed him.
He’d felt things that night he’d never felt with anyone else. Even aside from the physical attraction between them, it had been the most perfect night of his life. And now she’ll want nothing to do with me.
He had to make things right.
Up ahead, to his surprise, Joiner saw a sign for Longview. Had he really driven that far? He exited, and pulled into the Love’s station, where he gassed up his truck. While he was inside paying for the gas, he strolled through the tacky tourist trinkets offered at every Love’s station in Texas. He noticed a miniature horse that resembled Pistol as much as a plastic toy could. He bought it. He also picked up a king-size box of plain M&M’s, a pack of Big League Chew gum and a bag of Funyuns. Then he headed back to Kilgore.
When he got to Chateau Cavender, as the locals in Kilgore called it, Clint’s assistant opened the front door. She walked him through a vast living room with ceilings two stories high, and into a sunroom on the back of the house. It faced the pool. Clint sat in a cinnamon-colored leather wingback chair with his ankle up on a matching ottoman. He was reading The Wall Street Journal, and Cade was in front of him on the floor, playing video games.
“Hey, man!” A genuine smile flooded Clint’s face when he saw Joiner. He folded the paper and straightened in his chair, setting the newspaper down beside it.
Cade looked up at Joiner for about a nanosecond before getting back to his game.
Clint motioned to Joiner. “Have a seat.”
“This place is amazing, dude.”
“Thanks. My wife wanted it. Kind of embarrassing, but whatever.” He sighed. “It’s Cade’s and my bachelor pad now.”
Joiner took off his boots before stepping onto the calfskin rug. He walked around Cade and sat on the couch which was opposite Clint’s chair and ottoman. “How’s the ankle?”
“Terrible. May keep me out of work for several days.” Clint winked. “At least one can hope.”
Joiner chuckled. “Really. I’m so sorry you were hurt, Clint. I should have played it safer.”
“Well, that’s not really your style, is it, Temple?”
“I guess not.”
“I’ve always liked that about you.” Clint went on to recount several heroic moves Joiner had made when they’d played football together. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And you gained us plenty of yardage.”
“I was hoping to help Cade gain confidence today. But that was an epic fail.”
Clint sighed. “I knew what you were doing, and I agreed with you. Bad call on both of our parts. I feel as lousy about it as you do.”
“How is he?” Joiner nodded toward Cade, speaking softly.
Clint shrugged. “In some ways I know that kid better than I know myself, but in others, he is such a mystery. He hasn’t talked since we got home. And he’s done a lot of his repetitive behaviors, like swaying,
tapping.” Clint looked up at Joiner. “I hope—and believe—he’ll be fine, though. Just a little bump in the road.”
Joiner eased down off the couch and sat beside Cade. Cade glanced nervously at Joiner, but kept playing his game.
“Hey, buddy,” Joiner started.
Cade ignored him.
Joiner took the bag of Funyuns out of his sack and opened them. He popped one in his mouth, then offered the bag to Clint. Clint took one. “Yum,” Joiner said. “These are really good, aren’t they, Cavender?”
“Yeah. They’re delicious.”
“So crunchy.”
No verbal response from Cade, but he licked his lips.
Joiner took out the M&M’s and rattled the box. “You like M&M’s, Clint?”
“I do.”
“I thought I saw something about that on your chart at the school. Here, take some.”
Clint said, “That must have been Cade’s chart. They’re actually his favorite.”
“Really?” Joiner feigned surprise. “No way!” He held out the bag to Cade. “Want some?”
Cade blinked his eyes several times.
Joiner reached into the bag again. He pulled out the little horse. Cade’s eyes widened.
Joiner turned the horse over in his palm a few times. Then he spoke softly. “Cade, Pistol wanted me to tell you he’s sorry.” Joiner slowly galloped the toy horse on the floor toward Cade. “And I am sorry, too. I put you in a dangerous situation and you got hurt. Will you forgive us?”
Cade looked at the horse, and then he looked at Joiner. He took the little horse in his hand, rearing it on its hind legs. Then he proceeded to play with it, galloping it back toward Joiner. When Joiner smiled, Cade smiled back.
They played together for a few more minutes and then Joiner rose to go. He patted Cade’s shoulder. “Well, you boys take it easy. I better get back to the ranch.”
Clint said he needed to get up and move a little bit himself, so he hobbled toward the door with his guest. “Hey, Temple, I’ve got a question to ask you.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“It’s about Stella Scout.”
Joiner’s stomach tightened. He wasn’t sure he could answer any questions about Stella right now.
“Is she…dating anyone? That you know of?”
Joiner felt the heat rising in his neck. Oh no. Why did I come here? He swallowed hard.
“I realize she’s quite a bit younger than us.” Clint shifted his weight. “I don’t know. She just seems pretty sweet.”
Joiner laughed weakly.
“And of course there’s the matter of her being gorgeous.” Clint laughed.
“Yeah. There’s that.”
“Well, have you heard her talk about anyone? Or seen any guy over there hanging out with her?” Clint urged him. “Come on, man. Aren’t you any good as a spy?”
“I don’t think so, Cavender.” Joiner rubbed his eyes.
“You don’t think there is anyone?”
“I don’t think I’m a good spy.” He gave Clint a truthful stare. “I have to be honest with you, man. We’ve had a couple of dates.”
Clint’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh my gosh. Well, I feel stupid. That’s great for you. Really, man. That’s great.” He smiled.
“I have no idea where it’s going. We really just started getting to know each other. And she may hate me now, after what happened to you and Cade.”
Clint laughed. “Why? Well, surely she’ll get over that. That’s no big deal at all.”
“It was to her.”
Clint put out his hand to shake Joiner’s. “Well, good luck, man.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
*
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON when Joiner arrived at the ranch. He and Buster had plans over the weekend to fix the fence around the section of pasture they had designated for breeding, but if Stella wasn’t going to want him around the school the rest of the week, he figured he might as well get started now. He decided to take Pistol for a ride that would serve the dual purpose of stress release and preparation. First they’d ride like the wind wherever it took them, and then they’d blow around the perimeter and see what he needed for the fence.
The horse was restless in his stall. Joiner kicked himself for not turning Pistol out when he’d brought Stella home. He’d been preoccupied with everything that had happened, and had simply not thought of it. Joiner of all people understood why Pistol wouldn’t want to be pinned in all day.
He saddled up as quick as he could and led Pistol through the gate. Then he mounted and took off, giving Pistol all of the freedom he himself craved.
They rode hard. Pistol took a few jumps that were exhilarating, and even swam across a small pond with Joiner on his back. Joiner had to hold up his boots, but he didn’t mind. It was actually kind of fun. The water was cold on his skin as Pistol jerked them through the water. The horse’s panting was loud. When he got to the other side Pistol shook and shivered, but snorted with pride. He tossed his mane, and Joiner shook his black hair, yelling, “Whoo!”
It was the first time since that morning when he’d jogged beside Cade on Pistol—before the fall—that Joiner had felt alive.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
STELLA LOOKED AT her phone for what had to be the hundredth time. There was still no reply from Joiner. She’d texted him hours ago. Why was he punishing her this way?
She set the phone on her nightstand and changed into her pajamas, which amounted to sweats and one of Buster’s old rodeo T-shirts. Mugsy snored, curled up into a ball on her faux-fur beanbag. The window was open and a nice rain-scented breeze stirred her lace curtains. She still slept in the room she’d had since she was a little girl, although its decor had evolved along with her tastes, at least up to a certain point.
Her bed had been a white canopy bed when she’d picked it out as a six-year-old at the local furniture store. Texas bluebonnets were painted on the headboard and matching dresser, desk and nightstand, and her bedding had been pale yellow eyelet.
As a teen, she’d talked her mother into painting the furniture orange—the color of a sunset, which was her favorite color. They’d also painted the walls four different colors Stella had chosen: purple, sky blue, metallic gold and black. The black was actually a chalkboard. She and her friends had spent endless hours drawing on it, writing the names of their crushes and erasing them, doodling quotes from their favorite books.
After Lily died, Stella’s tastes continued to change, but she’d never wanted to redo her room. It was one of those things that kept her connected to the past, when she still had her mother. Even if much of her life had become black-and-white when she’d lost her, Stella could still climb into her bed and dream in color.
She switched on her bedside lamp. Crawling under the pile of vintage quilts—she had replaced the owl-themed duvet cover, too—she picked up the journal she’d taken with her to Adrienne Rutella’s talk. She opened to her notes.
Lent is not a season that starts and ends. Think of it as a continual spring. Lent is a lifestyle. And then: Lent is not so much about death as it is a summons to live anew.
After that Stella had written, What do I need to give up for Lent? Not as penance. What keeps me from leading a full, happy life?
Stella raised her silver pendant to her lips. The talk that night had challenged her. She’d never thought of Lent in that way. As a Baptist, she’d never thought about Lent much at all, to be honest. But her Catholic friends always treated it as a time to give up something they liked, as a sacrifice they could offer to God during those weeks. She smiled when she remembered that one of them had given up French fries. And another chocolate. They were always so happy when Lent was over. But Adrienne Rutella was suggesting something different.
Stella closed the journal and set it back down by her bed. She wasn�
�t sure what fullness in life even was. Ever since her mom died, her focus had been more on survival than anything else. She’d tried to order everything around her in such a way as to survive, and keep others safe. Buster said she couldn’t do it. And she knew she couldn’t change the whole world. But maybe if she was more careful, if she worked harder…maybe she could at least make it happen at Star Stables.
The rain pattered against her window and she got up to close it. When she turned back toward her bed, her phone was buzzing. She almost tripped over Mugsy, upsetting him to the point that he bit her toe as she tumbled onto the bed.
Joiner Temple: Me, too.
What in the heck did that mean? Should she take it literally? Her text had said I’m sorry. So was he saying he was sorry too? For being reckless, putting a child in danger and risking the reputation of her school? Or did he mean he was sorry she’d acted so crazy and mean to him and ruined the great thing they’d seemed to have going on?
Either one would be legitimate, she had to admit. Stella felt sick. She had to know. So she typed in What are you sorry for? And waited for his reply. The words popped up fast.
Joiner Temple: What are you sorry for?
Oh my goodness! This man is exasperating. But it was actually a valid question. What exactly was she sorry for?
She texted, I’m sorry for how I acted. I treated you badly. Please forgive me.
Joiner Temple: Okay.
After that, there was a long period of silence. What does he mean by “okay?” Stella wanted more, but she wasn’t getting it. She wrote, Now you answer my question.
Joiner Temple: As previously stated, I am sorry for what happened today.
As previously stated? Really? She wrote, Well, hopefully a lesson learned for all of us. Just have to be more careful.
Joiner Temple: Safety first at Star Stables.
Stella giggled. She typed, That’s my motto. She also thought, And it needs to be yours! but decided not to push it.
Joiner Temple: Open your window wide.
Stella typed, It’s raining!