He tossed a worried glance at the usually sedate group of mares and foals who now circled wildly. Some of the mares, already bred back to his other stallion, had tried to kick at the stallion invading their pasture. He didn’t need a breeder’s worst nightmare, an injured breeding stallion.
As he reached the end of the paddock where the stallion pranced, Garrett slowed to a walk and shook the grain pail in his hand. "Come on, Blue Boy," he called softly. "Come on, nice and easy." He circled around the horse. However, with the scent of the mares luring him, Blue Boy continued to move sideways, neck arched and nostrils flared.
"I’m behind you, Boss," said Sam Connors, his barn foreman. Sam sounded winded. "I’ve got Miranda and she’s in a foal heat. We’ll use her to lure him into the smaller corral."
Sam’s plan to use the young mare worked like a charm. Blue Boy followed the mare as Sam led her at a trot into a smaller corral on one side of the paddock. Garrett pushed the gate closed behind Blue Boy just as Sam and the mare exited a gate on the opposite side of the corral. Still speaking to the stallion, Garrett approached him and snapped a lead line on Blue Boy. He ran his palm soothingly down the horse’s trembling neck.
Sam led the mare away from the corral as Sue came running over. "I’ll take the mare," she said.
"Let’s get everybody inside," Garrett said to Sue. "Have Ally help you get them back inside."
"Sure, Boss." Sue led the mare toward the barn.
Garrett kept a hand on Blue Boy’s shoulder. Away from the mares, the horse had already calmed considerably.
Garrett glanced at his foreman, taking in the sweat-streaked gray temples. "Take it easy out in this heat, Sam." Sam was a hard worker but he was pushing seventy. Knowing Sam’s pride might take offense, Garrett added, "I’m already sweating my ass off. The humidity’s a killer today."
"And it’s supposed to stay the same all week. I’ll check who put the horses out. Let’s hope no one’s hurt," he added dourly. "I’m off for half a day and things go to hell."
Garrett restrained a smile. "I’m putting Blue Boy back in his stall while I check the fence. I don’t want a repeat performance. I’ll let you know when everything’s secure."
"I’ll come with you."
"Aren’t you still off work?"
"Not anymore."
As Garrett led the stallion back across the pasture to the barn he looked thoughtfully at his foreman. "Sam, I’ve been thinking if you need more personal time off, just say the word. You’ve got a lot of vacation days stored." Sam hardly ever took time off. If he let him, Garrett knew he’d work seven days a week.
Sam stared at him, his dark gaze direct in his lean, tanned face. "I appreciate that Garrett. I’ve been thinking about taking a few days." They walked in silence for several moments before Sam cleared his throat. "You know, of course, that I’ve been helping Ruth out since Vern died."
"Yeah, and I’m really glad you found her for us. I don’t know what we’d do without her."
"Well Vern was a good man. He worked hard his whole life." Sam looked uncomfortable. "We grew up together and worked some of the same places here and there."
Garrett stopped and faced the other man, not sure what he was trying to tell him. "Listen Sam, we’ve known each other since I was a kid. Whatever you tell me will go no further."
Sam pushed his hat back on his heat and scratched his head. "Well, the truth is, Ruth and me have been spending time together lately. No disrespect to Vern, but he didn’t leave her real flush, if you know what I mean."
Sam paused again.
"My job here at the farm is sweet, what with the place on the back acres that you let me use. I was wondering if you’d mind if Ruth moved into the cottage." Sam seemed to swallow a few times. "With me, that is."
Garrett looked at the man who had been a good friend to his father, and a steadfast, reliable employee to him. "It’s your decision, Sam. I have no problem with that."
Garrett caught a rare glimpse of a smile on his foreman’s weathered face.
Just then a movement on the far end of the paddock caught Garrett’s eye. He could see Christie sitting on the paddock fence. "Let me check the fence and the gates," he said.
Sam gave him a quick nod and reached for Blue Boy’s lead. "I’ll get this guy cooled out and catch up with you."
Garrett strode back out to the paddock where he’d spotted Christie, and found her standing beside a steel gate. She swung the gate closed.
"Why is that gate open? Now I understand how the horse got in with the mares."
Christie swung around to face him. "Garrett! You scared me." She bit at her lip and fumbled with the gate latch. Garrett stepped closer and pushed her hands out of the way. He latched it securely and turned to face her. "Why was it open?"
Christie gave him a wary look. "I don’t know. I saw everyone chasing horses and thought maybe it should be closed so they couldn’t run out this end."
"It’s not okay when a stallion gets in with mares and foals. There’s a potential for any of the horses to get seriously kicked."
"It was open when I came out." She pushed her hands in her jean pockets.
Garrett stared at her suspiciously, aware of a curious sinking feeling. "Christie, did you open the gate?"
The hurt surprise on her face made him feel like a heel for asking.
"I wouldn’t open any gates unless told otherwise."
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders. "The first hard and fast rule on the farm is that gates are always kept closed. It doesn’t matter if there’s a horse in the paddock or not."
"I hope the horses are okay," she said. "I would have come to find someone but I didn’t realize anything was wrong. Really, I didn’t know," she added defensively. "I came out here to eat my lunch."
"Well, next time you’ll know. I can’t have anyone being careless. These animals are too valuable." Garrett turned away and they walked side-by-side along the small footpath beside the fence. "How’s your head? I see that bump looks better."
Christie gave him an amused glance. "I swear I’m fine. No headache, nothing to worry about. I’ve got a hard head. It’s been knocked around more than that little bump."
Garrett looked over his shoulder at Sam as he joined them. "Christie, this is Sam Connors, my foreman Sam -- Christie Jenkins. She’s helping while Kim’s out."
His hard-edged foreman gave Christie a big smile.
"Welcome aboard, Christie," Sam said. "Ruth told me about you."
"The gate was open," Garrett told him.
Sam scratched his head. "Joey put the horses out and must be he didn’t latch the gate securely. He swears he did. There’s a mare with a scraped hock but it doesn’t look bad."
"I’ll take a look. We both know about small scratches that blow up overnight into a big problem."
"Uh, Garrett, what time do you want me at the barn in the mornings?" Christie said. "You never really said."
Garrett turned to her. "Eight is fine."
She hesitated. "I’m usually up by six. Since I’m up early anyway, if you’d like I can help out with Hannah."
Garrett immediately shook his head. "No. Ruth sees to my daughter." Realizing how curt that sounded, he added, "Thanks for asking. I’m sure you’ll see Hannah off and on during the day."
"Sure. No problem." She looked away from him and toward the house.
He knew he was protective of Hannah, but he wasn’t changing anything just because Christie was here. She’d better understand that now or they’d be at odds from the word go.
He looked at Sam. "Let’s go check that mare."
###
Several hours later Christie sat at the kitchen table. Sunlight spilled through the windows across the wooden table, the light dancing across her glass of lemonade. Ruth had shown her where to find cold drinks and snacks and then left for parts unknown. The house was incredibly quiet.
Christie thought about the pasture gate that had been left open earlier, and Garrett questioning
her as if she’d been responsible. She supposed since she was the new one at the farm he’d question her first, but it was almost as if he expected her to be irresponsible. Sue had told her if Garrett hadn’t acted so quickly, the horses could have been badly injured.
Christie hadn’t mentioned to anyone that she’d felt like she was being watched as she’d eaten her lunch in the sun. She’d dismissed the notion as paranoia. Later, she’d heard Joey adamantly deny leaving any gates opened. He’d worked for Garrett for two years and knew the routine and Christie believed him. As she thought more about it, she wondered if someone else had opened the gate and watched everything unfold from the trees beyond the paddock. Why mention such a theory though? They’d probably think she was trying to stir trouble or something.
Looking up at a slight sound, Christie twisted in her chair and found Hannah watching her from the doorway.
"Hi, Hannah. I didn’t think there was anyone in the house." Hannah was a beautiful child with her rounded cheeks showing just a hint of pink. Christie wished she could remember her oldest sister. Maybe it would have helped her if she’d ever seen pictures of Judith when she was younger. Judith’s death still felt unreal, as if she was missing out on a connection she should be feeling.
Hannah hesitated in the archway, looking ready to bolt back the way she’d come.
"I like your boots," Christie said quietly. "I noticed those red boots the first time I saw you."
Hannah stepped into the kitchen. Christie noticed the toes of her boots were scuffed down to their natural leather color. "If I had boots like those, they’d be my favorite pair."
Hannah’s eyes widened in surprise. "Well, these are my favorite." She tucked her white T-shirt into her blue jeans and then looped her thumbs in her pink belt. A small plush rabbit hung half way out of her front jeans pocket. Weighing down the front of her belt was a large silver buckle.
"I didn’t see you this morning," Hannah said, her manner offhand. "I thought maybe you left."
"Nope. I’ll be here for a month."
Christie suppressed a grin as Hannah rolled her eyes.
"My sister Ellen had a collection of those animals," Christie commented, indicating the stuffed rabbit. When Ellen died, she’d given the animals to her nephew. Idly, Christie wondered if Darrell had let Eric keep them. She shifted her gaze to the roses in a vase in front of her. Reaching out she ran her fingertip along a thorn, testing it sharpness. A tiny drop of blood appeared on her skin.
"Mommy gave me this one," Hannah said, waving the rabbit in the air.
"It’s great that you have a keepsake." Casually, she added, "That’s a neat buckle."
Hannah rubbed the buckle’s shiny surface with her forefinger. "Daddy won it at a rodeo. Now it’s mine." She tilted her head so her long blond hair hid her face. "It says ‘All Around Roper’." Hannah’s gaze met hers. "Daddy quit when him and my mom got married." She frowned and hunched her shoulders. "She was beautiful. She died," she mumbled.
Christie swallowed past the tightness in her throat. "You’re lucky you have your dad."
"He’s not my dad!" Hannah blurted. "Not really."
Taken back by the vehemence in Hannah’s voice, Christie also heard the underlying uncertainty. The words themselves struck Christie like a physical pain in her chest, making it hard to breath.
Taking several breaths, she focused on Hannah and the child’s pain. Christie said slowly and carefully, "Anybody can see he’s your dad in every way that counts." Inside, she felt sick, her fingers clenching. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t question Hannah. She pressed her lips together, feeling a rigid ache through her whole body. Garrett had lied to her. They needed to talk.
Hannah’s expression looked hopeful, but then she seemed to crumple and with an angry mutter, ran from the room.
Christie let out a breath. She’d blown that. Everything in her wanted to soothe Hannah’s hurt, tell her she was so lucky to have a dad who loved her. Christie knew from her own experience not all dads loved their kids like Garrett.
Christie saw the floppy rabbit on the floor where Hannah had dropped it. She left the table, washed her glass and leaned down and picked up the stuffed toy. She rubbed its softness between her fingers. A part of her was numb by the truth Hannah had innocently divulged. Garrett was not her biological father.
Turning the rabbit over, Christie could see where someone had repaired one leg with long, uneven stitches. One ear was narrower than the other and it had stitches along the side. Had Judith mended a beloved toy for her daughter?
Christie left the kitchen and walked down the hallway. Looking into the living room, she found Hannah lining her dolls up on the area rug. Christie stepped back out of sight and knocked on the door casing, holding the stuffed toy so all Hannah would see was the rabbit. "Can I come in?" she said in a high, whiney voice. "Somebody dropped me and I hurt my ear. Look, it flops."
A small giggle from Hannah, then silence. Christie wiggled the rabbit sideways. "Please? I want to play with Hannah’s dolls."
"You can come in," Hannah said quietly.
Christie stepped around the corner and entered the living room.
Hannah solemnly accepted the proffered rabbit and put it on the floor beside her dolls. Christie noticed the dolls were arranged in order of size and hair color -- blondes, then brunettes.
"Luckily your rabbit wasn’t hurt so you won’t have to stitch him up. It looks like you’ve operated on him a few times."
Hannah nodded. "Daddy sewed his ear here," she held the rabbit up by the ear, "and on his leg when he broke it. See?"
Impressed, Christie said, "Your dad did that? Wow, I couldn’t sew a stitch if you paid me."
Hannah looked down at the rabbit. "Daddy can do all kinds of stuff."
"I believe you. He seems pretty smart." Garrett was mother and father all rolled into one, but he had lied to her. A lie of omission.
"Well," Christie said cheerfully, "now that you and the rabbit are reunited I’m going back to work. Maybe I’ll see you later, Hannah."
Hannah didn’t say anything, but for once her smile was sweet and unguarded.
###
Hannah stared at her dolls after Christie had left. Carefully, she rearranged them a bit. Christie seemed pretty nice, but Hannah remembered Mommy saying you had to be careful of people. Sometimes they acted all nice because they wanted something. Hannah chewed her lip, wondering if maybe Christie wanted something. No, she’d brought her favorite rabbit to her and she didn’t have to do that. Christie was nice. She kept her from getting hurt the other day.
Hannah held the rabbit tightly to her chest and smoothed the soft old fur with one hand. She wondered if she should be friends with Christie. Maybe she’d ask Daddy or she could just wait and see if Christie did anything mean.
"Sometimes people just need a little rope to hang themselves." Hannah put her hands over her ears, but she still heard Mommy’s voice. Sometimes it got in her head and wouldn’t go away.
She gathered her dolls in her arms and climbed into Daddy’s chair. She stuffed the dolls all around her and sat very still. On a table beside her was Daddy’s old baseball cap. She picked it up and held it tightly. Daddy called it his lucky hat. As she stared at a picture of Daddy and Uncle Randy on the wall, she began to feel better. Mommy’s voice was gone. Hannah relaxed.
###
Later that afternoon Garrett stabled his gelding in the barn and strode down the newly raked barn aisle. Another day come and gone. The barn smelled sweetly of hay and clean bedding as he checked each of the box stalls.
He’d spent the latter part of the afternoon checking fence in the furthest pastures from the house. Some of his young stock were out in those pastures and he liked to keep a regular eye on them. He made a mental list of the chores he hadn’t been able to get to today.
"Hi, Boss!" called out Sue as he neared the end of the barn. Sue stepped out of the box stall next to the doorway and into the aisle. It was the stall of the mare th
at had been injured today. Garrett noticed the black jar of ointment in her hand.
"Hi Sue. How’s Bridie’s leg doing?"
"It’s looking good -- no swelling so far. I just cleaned it again and put on ointment to keep the flies away."
Garrett entered the large box stall, the crisp shavings stirring underfoot. Birdie was one of his better mares, a sleek gray whose foals were just beginning to prove themselves on the track.
"Hello, girl." Her little black foal approached him in his usual friendly manner. "Hello Speedball. Don’t want to forget you." Garrett rubbed under the foal’s chin.
Facing Bridie’s hindquarters, Garrett ran his hand down the inside of her hind leg. She offered to lift her leg, but he patted her and stepped back.
"Looks good. Go ahead and eat, Bridie." Garrett and Sue exited the stall. Garrett pulled the sliding door closed, pushed the latch home and pulled it down to lock in place. "How did it go today?"
"Fine. I gave Christie the general run down on what we do at the farm. She’s a good worker."
"Good. Maybe it’ll be easier to stay caught up now. Have you seen my daughter?"
Sue looked past him and pointed toward the open doorway. "I saw Hannah a few minutes ago right outside with Christie and Buddy."
"Okay, thanks." Garrett moved from the cool barn interior out to the sun-baked holding and paddock area, batting the dust off his jeans as he walked.
"Hi, Daddy!" he heard Hannah yell.
Garrett veered to the left and spotted his daughter straddling the wooden paddock fence behind Christie and one of his new hires, Buddy Thatcher.
Christie leaned against the wooden rail as she held carrots out to the grazing mares.
Garrett approached them. Christie and Buddy were talking about the horses. He noticed that Hannah ignored Christie when she turned to talk to her, but as soon as Christie looked away, Hannah watched her again.
Garrett lifted a hand and wiped the dust from his face and mouth. All afternoon the hot, almost sultry wind had blown dirt and grit in his face. He sorely needed a shower, but he figured it could wait a few more minutes. He walked up to his daughter. "Hannah, sweetheart, how did your day go? Do anything interesting?" Because she straddled the top fence rail, Hannah looked down at him.
Echoes From The Past (Women of Character) Page 6