Lone Star Refuge

by Mae Nunn

  Joiner Temple: Open it anyway.

  She didn’t know why, but she did what he said. When she opened it, a calf rope sailed through. Her phone buzzed on her nightstand.

  Joiner Temple: Tie it to your bed.

  Stella couldn’t believe what was happening. Tie a rope to her bed? She typed, Done.

  Joiner Temple: Now sit on your bed.

  Stella sat down on the mattress, looking at her window. All she could see was the rope, which now trailed from her bed and fell out over the windowsill into the dark. It was raining harder than she’d realized. Mugsy growled and started to bark, but she grabbed him and shushed him. She didn’t want him to wake Buster.

  Suddenly, Joiner appeared at her window, and climbed in headfirst. He toppled onto her floor, laughing. Mugsy jumped down from the bed and started licking his face.

  “Um, did that just really happen?” Stella got up from her bed, pulling one of the quilts off with her. She wrapped it around Joiner, who was soaking wet. Then she went to the window and shut it. As he dried himself with her quilt, Joiner’s face reminded her of the night they’d first kissed on the porch. He laughed and his violet eyes danced. With raindrops in his lashes, he was practically sparkling with pure delight.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi, yourself. You know, you could have used the door. I would have opened it and everything.”

  “Doors are boring. It is far too romantic an occasion for doors.”

  “Romantic occasion? What has been the slightest bit romantic about this day?” Stella eyed him suspiciously. “The first time you learn that I’m a lunatic? Our first fight? Really?”

  “Stella, Stella, Stella. Those were not romantic occasions. Nor was when you learned I am the world’s worst hippotherapist. These are learning experiences, but they are not romantic in the least.” He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

  “Well, what is romantic then? Besides that, I mean.”

  Joiner smiled wickedly. “Making up.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE NEXT FEW WEEKS went more smoothly for the riding school, and for Joiner and Stella. Joiner tried to be more careful, and there were no more accidents. New clients arrived every day. In a mutual agreement with Stella, Joiner worked more with the clients who just came to learn to ride, and less with the kids who needed therapy. He was thrilled, however, to see that Cade returned and seemed happy enough to be back on Daisy for his therapy with Daune.

  Joiner was also extra busy with the breeding operation. He had seven more calls from owners who wanted to breed their mares to Pistol, and he accepted five of them, bringing the herd of mares to a total of twenty-five. He and Buster worked together for several hours on the weekends fencing the pasture area, and Joiner put in quite a few more on his own after Star Stables closed for the day. He also had piles of paperwork to process, as all of the mares had to pass an examination by a veterinarian to make sure they were healthy, and would not bring any diseases into the herd—or pass them on to Pistol.

  By mid-April things were in good shape for the breeding to commence. The excitement on the ranch was palpable as the mares started to arrive. Quarter horses, palominos, Arabians, Appaloosas, paints. These ladies were some of the prettiest horses he’d ever seen. Joiner loved them, loved watching the herd take shape. He had also vetted the owners and liked most of them real well. He had the sense they felt about their horses the way he felt about Pistol: conscientious of their values, but also nurturing and respectful of their souls.

  Joiner tried to schedule all of the deliveries after school hours, and for the most part, he was successful. The few that had come through while the school was open had been handled carefully, however, and no problems had been caused. The clients liked watching the mares arrive. It was fun for everyone. Well, everyone, it seemed, except for Stella.

  Joiner thought she’d be glad he was breeding the more natural way, instead of using artificial insemination. But Stella worried about the uncontrolled nature of the open-pasture method. She was afraid clients would be put off if they saw the horses breeding, and worse, that they’d be scared if they witnessed the biting and other behavior that could occur. She worried about mares being injured, and possible liabilities, even though Joiner assured her that wouldn’t happen. She worried, she worried, she worried. Even though he tried to understand her perspective, if he was honest, it was more than a little aggravating.

  At least Buster saw things more like Joiner did. Wherever he was on the ranch, and whatever else he was doing, Buster usually made his way over to the corral when a new mare arrived. He loved chatting with the owners and seeing all of the horses. He was an amazing help.

  Buster and Joiner had bonded while they’d built the fence. The older man seemed to like just hanging out, telling stories, having another guy to share the hard work of ranching. As Joiner’s father had been a doctor and not really much of a cowboy type, there had been lots of things he couldn’t relate to while Joiner was growing up, like Joiner’s love for horses. And of course Joiner’s passion for riding and then polo had come after his father was gone. It was nice to have someone to look up to and learn from.

  “Joiner. Psst, Joiner.” Buster motioned for Joiner to follow him after the last mare had been handled and her owner was gone.

  Buster wobbled back into the barn with Joiner following him, avoiding Stella’s office, though Joiner didn’t know why at first.

  “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  Joiner’s interest was piqued. He hoped the older man wasn’t going to try to change the terms of their agreement now that it was clear breeding Pistol was going to be extremely profitable. But surely he wouldn’t do that. He seemed like a man of his word.

  Buster ducked into an unused therapy room and Joiner followed. Buster closed the door behind him. “Lookie here what I got.” He pulled two tickets from his overalls’ pocket and held them out for Joiner to see. They were for the Nacogdoches Rodeo.

  “There’s going to be some big names there. Jesse Lovelace is the stock contractor and he’s the best.” Buster was so excited he could hardly keep his voice to a whisper.

  “He brings in horses that produce winning rides. Everybody knows that, so some of the big names will swing up from the rodeo in Houston to ride in Nacogdoches. I used to do the same thing.” Buster ducked his head, lowering his voice again. “Anyway, me and Jesse are old pals. He’s a retired bareback rider, too. He’s the one sent me these tickets.”

  “What about Stella?” Joiner asked.

  “Shh!” Buster put his finger to his lips. “You want to get me in trouble?”

  “You mean she’s not going?”

  “What rock you been under? Stella hates the rodeo.”

  “I know she doesn’t want to participate—and doesn’t want you to—but do you mean she won’t even go to a rodeo as a spectator?”

  “That’s right, Sherlock. And I ain’t been in years. But I thought if you wanted to go we might sneak down to this one while she’s at Cheryl’s house this weekend.”

  Joiner laughed. “Buster, we’re grown men. If we want to go to a rodeo, we don’t have to sneak.”

  “I know that, you idget.” Buster rolled his eyes. “I thought you was some kind of English major. You never heard of a figure of speech?”

  “Well, what did you mean, then?”

  “Do you want to go to the rodeo or not? It’s my treat. You’re ’bout to get rich. We’re celebratin’.”

  Joiner put his hands in his pockets. “I’d love to.”

  “You would?” The older man’s face broke into a huge smile. His eyes almost disappeared in all of the crinkles.

  “Yeah. That would be awesome.”

  “Good.” He clapped his hands together. “Now you can tell Stella.” Buster turned on his heel and left Joiner standing alone holding the tickets, mouth open.

  Might as well get it over wi
th. He put the tickets in his shirt pocket and walked down the hallway to her office. “Boss Lady? You got a minute?” he said as he knocked on the door.

  “Come in.”

  Stella was sitting at her desk wearing glasses, which was a rare sight.

  “What’s happening?” He sat down in a chair.

  “Oh, nothing. Just going over some facts and figures.” She rubbed one of her temples.

  “They making your head hurt?”

  “They are, actually. That’s why I put these on. I thought they might help.”

  “Want a shoulder rub?”

  “I’d love one.”

  He walked around behind her and she leaned into him. He placed his hands on her narrow, yet muscular shoulders. “Gosh, girl, you’re tight.” He put his thumbs right between her shoulder blades and pulled back, stretching her muscles to work out the tension.

  “I know. I know…” Her voice became slurred. “Oooh. That feels so good.”

  Joiner found a knot the size of a golf ball. He pressed as hard as he dared, then tried to work it out in a downward motion.

  “That’s…so…perfect.”

  Can a girl get drunk on a massage?

  “How…did…you…learn…how…to…do…this?”

  He started on a knot beneath the other shoulder blade. “I get them in the same place.”

  “Oh. Well, I definitely owe you a massage, then.”

  “I’ll be happy to take you up on that sometime.”

  She leaned her head back and smiled at him upside-down. Then she lifted her hand to pat his where it rested on her shoulder. “That feels so much better. Thanks.”

  “What’s troubling your pretty head?”

  “Take a look at these numbers.”

  Stella rose, and invited him to sit in her chair. Then she sat down on his lap.

  “See this column? Receipts.” She pointed to a column that had some numbers, but also a lot of blank lines. Then she pointed to the other, which had no blanks. “Expenses.”

  Joiner studied the paperwork for several moments, keeping one arm around her waist. When he set it down, he said, “I see two things. We could use some more big donations, but people are also going to have to start paying for their services.”

  “That’s my biggest problem right now.” Stella sighed. “I’ve got the Cavenders’ big grant and the one from Mike Gibbons at the bank. I think the one from the Rodeo Association may also come through. What’s not working is the day-to-day income.”

  “What’s the deal? Why aren’t people paying? Do we need to set up a billing system or something?” Joiner didn’t understand. “Maybe Mac can help.”

  Stella shook her head. “The ones who can pay, do.”

  “And the ones who can’t?”

  “I’m not turning them away, Joiner.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  She twisted away from the desk to face him, still sitting sideways on his lap. “I’ll figure something out, though.”

  “Sounds to me like you’ve got a little Robin Hood thing going.”

  “Maybe I do.” She grinned up at him and touched his face. It was after five, and as usual, he had a five o’clock shadow.

  “Now, did you just come in here to seduce me with your good looks or was there something you needed to talk about?”

  Joiner took a deep breath and inhaled rain with a hint of lemon. The seduction thing sounded good. He’d rather kiss her than say what he’d come here to say.

  “I just wanted to tell you that I’m babysitting your dad while you’re at your friend Cheryl’s this weekend.”

  “Oh. That’s nice. You know how I hate leaving him.” She turned to fully face him, straddling him with her long legs. They were bent so that her knees touched the back of the chair, and for a moment she towered above him. Then she lowered herself back onto his lap.

  “What are you guys going to do?”

  “We’re going to hang out, probably grill some steaks, maybe work on some fence.”

  “Uh-huh. That sounds good. You could bring your brothers out, too, to see the ranch.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him. “Don’t you have too much fun without me, though.”

  “Not much chance of that.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and she rose slightly, clutching his head to her chest as he gripped her waist. Joiner could hear the steady beat of her heart and felt the imprint of her necklace against his cheek. They held each other for several moments in that position. Then he looked up into her eyes. He wanted her lips.

  She shifted her weight, sinking into him again until they were face-to-face. She kissed him lightly the first time, and then the kisses grew in intensity. Joiner felt as if the room was whirling, but it was a ride he didn’t want to get off.

  When she pulled away, her ivory skin was scratched. He rubbed it gently. “Sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “You look like you’ve been in a fight with a cactus.”

  She grinned. “Who won?”

  “I’m afraid it was the cactus.”

  “Well, the cactus may have to shave.”

  “I shave every morning.”

  “Ooh. You’re just so manly it grows back out.”

  “Pretty much.” He beat his chest like a gorilla.

  “I like it.”

  “Even if it scratches you?”

  “It’s a small price to pay.” She kissed him again.

  “Well, so is shaving twice for you, if that’s what it takes.”

  She kissed him again.

  “Hey,” he said when they came up for air. “I need to tell you something.”

  “You like me?”

  “Yes. I do. Very much.”

  She kissed him. “You want to go steady?”

  “If we’re in high school, definitely. And you can wear my class ring.”

  “Ha-ha.” She kissed him again. “What is it, really?”

  “Your dad and I are going to the rodeo.”

  She pulled back several inches, her playful mood vanishing.

  “He got two tickets from an old friend and invited me today. I asked if you were going too but he said you wouldn’t want to. We’re going one—maybe two—of the nights you’re staying with Cheryl.”

  “I see.”

  Joiner could tell she was making an effort not to blow her top. For some reason, he found this hilarious. He started laughing.

  “May I ask what you find so funny?”

  “You.” Joiner snorted. “You, Stella Scout, are funny.”

  “What about me is funny?”

  “You’re mad! Because two grown men are going to a rodeo!”

  She pushed off his lap and sat down on her desk, still facing him. She kicked his chair with her boots. Her hands gripped the edge of her desk as if it was the edge of a cliff.

  “Why would you want to go to a rodeo?”

  Joiner rubbed his chin. “Let’s see. Maybe…because it’s fun?”

  “I don’t think it is.”

  “Well, I don’t believe that, since you were once a national barrel racing champion, but whatever. It’s okay with me if it’s not fun to you anymore. Rodeos are still fun to a lot of people.”

  “What interest do you have in rodeos? I thought you were a polo player.”

  Joiner cocked his head to one side. “I guess you’d call it a mild interest in rodeos, but a bigger interest in Buster.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “There’s no hidden meaning. I like your dad. He’s been good to me. He loves the rodeo—misses it. Going with him to something he’s so excited about will be fun.”

  “If you’re trying to make me feel bad it’s not going to work.” Stella crossed her arms.

  “I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad. You’re the one who asked me to defend why I want to go to the rodeo. We’re just going to watch.”

  Stella suppressed a smile.

 
“Go on,” Joiner coaxed.

  “Go on with what?”

  “Go on and smile.”

  She raised one eyebrow.

  Joiner nodded. “Come on. I know you can do it.”

  She snorted and then finally, she smiled. He had broken her.

  He scooted his seat up to the desk and pulled her gently back down onto his lap.

  “You’re a pain in the butt, you know?”

  “Yeah,” she said, “well, so are you.”

  He twirled a piece of her hair around his finger. “Can we still go steady?”

  “Absolutely.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  STELLA DROVE UP Texas State Highway 135 North till she got to US 271 North. That took her fairly deep into Oklahoma, but she had to take three more roads before she crossed the border into Arkansas. After passing through a quaint little town called Siloam Springs, she turned on Arkansas Highway 59 North, which took her straight into Gentry. Population 3,298.

  Her mother’s best friend lived on Rust Street in a historic flagstone house that Stella had always associated with gingerbread. Maybe that was because, for as long as she could remember, she and her mother had visited Cheryl at Christmas, and every time they drove up, Cheryl would turn on her Charlie Brown Christmas lights that Uncle Steve had strung along all of the eaves, much to Stella’s delight.

  Cha Cha’s house was one of the supreme delights of Stella’s childhood. Lily had no siblings, and Cha Cha had no kids. So she was the closest thing Stella would ever have to an aunt, and Stella was her surrogate daughter. Stella had named her Cha Cha on one of her early visits.

  Stella was a year old, and they were playing a game of peekaboo. Lily and Stella were in the screened-in porch just off the living room, and Cheryl was on the other side of the door. Lily asked Stella, “Where’s Cheryl?” And Cheryl would open the door, peek in and say, “Peekaboo!” and then close the door and disappear, only for a few seconds. Then they would repeat.

  They played the game several times until Cheryl decided to go to the kitchen to get a drink, so she didn’t open the door again. According to her mother’s account, Stella had urged her mother to open the door, and she toddled after Cheryl, crying, “Cha! Cha!” Cheryl picked her up and kissed her, and the nickname Cha Cha was born.