Heat Wave (Riders Up)

by Adriana Kraft

  Maggie hurried toward the door and grabbed the doorknob before turning to face Prater. “Please don’t bother me with any more offers. I’m not in the least bit interested.”

  Prater’s voice rose. “You must be out of your mind, young woman. You just turned down over a million dollars. You’re not acting in the best interests of your children. Do your in-laws know how arrogantly stupid you’re being?”

  Maggie rushed out of the bank. How dare he bring her children’s interests into this as if she didn’t consider them! And her in-laws shared no commitment to the land. Mason’s mother had always believed it was beneath her son’s station in life to live on a farm.

  Out on the sidewalk, she breathed deeply and wished there was another bank in town. It was very tempting to move all of her accounts to Walker. But that small community was an eight mile drive out of her way. She grinned. Did Prater have any idea she’d stashed the bulk of the life insurance money in the Walker bank?

  She could hear her dad’s voice: “It’s often wise to divide your assets among several banks.” Had he distrusted bankers in general, or Prater in particular?

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Prater staring at her from his office window. She hastened her steps. Why did that man seem so eager to get her to sell? Was it just the commission?

  And why did she mistrust him? He was a well respected member of the community. He supported local charities, funded a high school scholarship, sat on the board of the small, local hospital, and was a church trustee. The only knock against his reputation was that he seemed harsher with area farmers in financial trouble than with small businessmen. Whatever his motives, she was tired of him leaning on her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Maggie couldn’t get away from him. He was too close; too much a man. They’d worked side by side for two weeks refurbishing the barn, making plans for purchasing horses, and developing a vision for the long term growth of Anderson Stables. Harrington had proven to be a good teacher.

  Though he could be gruff and sparse with words, he exhibited much more patience with her than she had imagined possible. His knowledge of thoroughbreds and what was required to turn them into competitive race horses was expansive. And her pulse quickened when his eyes caught fire with the awe and thrill he clearly felt for the challenge of horseracing. There was no question she’d hired the right man for the job.

  But she couldn’t get away from him. Snap! “Shit,” Maggie blurted, examining the spatula she used for scraping dishes. She avoided glancing at Harrington, who was sitting at the table finishing his last cup of coffee, oblivious to her turmoil.

  As was part of the original agreement, he ate his meals with her family. But he also slept in the same house and used the same bathroom. Hers was a farmhouse, not some expensive home in the woods built by people trying to escape the city for fresh country air.

  His scent invaded her space; it was as simple as that. Not that they were unpleasant smells, but they were man smells, and they were undeniably Harrington smells.

  Occasionally, she would peek across the table or over a newspaper to find him staring at her. Seldom would he turn away. Her privacy was compromised. He bothered her. Not on purpose, she was sure. He probably never even noticed her discomfort.

  - o -

  Ed sighed heavily watching temptation scraping dishes as if her life depended upon getting them spotlessly clean before stacking them in the dishwasher. Thank God, the loft would be ready to move into in another week. He hoped he could last that long. He hoped they could last that long. He tried his best to ignore her, but the damn woman was getting under his skin like a boil that wouldn’t go away.

  She was quick learner and a hard worker; he’d give her that much. But she cooked too good. And she was a fine, creative mom. It had been comical, at first, to see how she out maneuvered her children, and then his heart wrenched as she patiently meted out wisdom along with kindness and discipline. Too bad she hadn’t been around to teach his folks about parenting.

  But she could be cantankerous, stubborn, pesky, annoying and downright pushy at times. She was the boss, but that didn’t give her the right to praise him for just doing his job. And he didn’t need her encouragement in his fight against the booze. He didn’t want her thinking he was some damn emotional cripple.

  And then there were all those women things about. Was there any place else to hang robes and nightgowns than in the bathroom? And why did she always have to look so damn innocently sexy? It didn’t matter if she wore a sweatshirt and baggy pants or a thin blouse and shorts—she was as tempting as the devil herself.

  And he had to stop noticing. He needed blinkers like some horses to avoid distractions.

  Did she know her upturned smile and peppy personality served only to tease him? Her hair could stand on end and she would still look like a woman who needed to be touched and caressed and yes, dammit, pampered.

  Pushing away from the supper table he frowned at Maggie’s back one last time before muttering, “Thanks for the meal. I’ve got to be going.”

  Hurriedly, he exited and climbed into his truck. For once it started without protest. Ed was grateful for that as he eased the pickup toward the dirt road that would lead him back to civilization…and to some measure of sanity.

  - o -

  Maggie watched the faded pickup lurch along the rutted road. He was headed to a twelve step meeting. He wouldn’t discuss what went on at those meetings, but she was pleased he went. It was good for him, and it was good for her to have some distance from the man.

  When she’d first met him outside the Resting Arms, she wouldn’t have bet a bent penny that he’d straighten out enough to come work for her. She’d hoped. She’d even put up thirty bucks as a challenge, but she would never have bet on it.

  But he’d gotten himself together. And he was working out better than she’d imagined. Watching the pickup tail lights disappear in the darkness, Maggie hugged herself tightly as waves of heat coursed through her body only to be followed by a riptide of chills. He was gone, but his scent filled her nostrils.

  - o -

  Ed used the end of a shovel to tamp dirt tightly around the fencepost while Maggie held it in place. They’d been building fencing for the paddocks for days; this was the last post. It was the post they’d both been looking forward to.

  “Done,” Ed said. “There are still a lot of rails to attach, but that’s it for digging post holes.” He cast his gaze over the half dozen acres they’d been dividing into pastures with an eye for how it would change over the next few weeks. “It’s looking good. Won’t be long now and you’ll see some horses out there.”

  “It can’t happen too soon,” said Maggie, stretching her arms high above her head and scrunching her shoulders. “I just hope this works.”

  “You having second thoughts?”

  “Third and fourth, probably. Don’t worry. I’m not going to back away from our plans.” Maggie squinted against the morning sun. “I just wish we could get on with it. Waiting is the hardest.”

  “It’s not like we’ve been sitting around watching the grass grow these past weeks,” said Ed, bending to pick up his tools.

  “I know. I know. But it still seems…so unreal. Having horses running around these paddocks is going to make it much more real.”

  “Yeah, I can think of something else that will make it real enough.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Bills.”

  “Right. That part of reality is already happening. I don’t really want to think about that now,” Maggie said, removing her cap. “It’s time to sample Carolyn’s lemonade. She put it in the shade of the maple tree. How does that suit you, Mr. Carpenter?”

  “Just fine,” Ed responded, dusting off his pants. “We’ve earned it this morning. It’s as hot as blazes and it’s not even noon yet.”

  Slowly, he drank his fill of Carolyn’s lemonade. With pride, he admired the corral fencing he and Maggie had nearly completed. It was new vinyl. Hardly c
heap, but barbed wire fencing was too dangerous for race horses—or any other horse, for that matter.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he considered the woman sitting on the grass beside him. Maggie Anderson did not shy away from work. She probably didn’t shy away from much, if anything. They sat in the shade of a maple tree. Even though it was only mid-morning, the heat of the day was intensifying. It would be a scorcher, and it was still only early May. He looked up at the cloudless blue sky. They could sure use some rain.

  At least he could get away from her now—well, some of the time. The loft had quickly become his own personal cave for retreat, and he welcomed that a lot. For the first time in a long time he was beginning to feel like a human being. His chest filled with air as he contemplated working with horses. Soon. A couple more weeks, a month at the outside and they would be ready. He wondered how Ms. Anderson and her kids would take to caring for thoroughbreds.

  Had they been too adventurous? Had he?

  “The call of the mourning dove sounds so wistful this morning,” Maggie said quietly.

  “Huh.” Her voice startled him. He listened and heard the bird cooing. Sounded like any other morning, to him.

  Maggie lay back on the grassy incline. “I wonder if she’s lost her mate. There’s no response. Usually there’s a response.”

  Ed couldn’t avoid hearing the sadness in her voice. But they were only birds. “Maybe,” he said, shrugging noncommittally. Light laughter greeted his ears.

  Maggie sat up abruptly, watching him closely. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  Ignoring her question, he tried to keep his features passive. He might think her crazy, but he didn’t want her knowing that.

  “Do horses have feelings?”

  “Of course they do.”

  “Well then, why not birds?”

  “Don’t know. Hadn’t thought about it, I guess.”

  “Well, I have, and I’m certain they have feelings. Losing a mate is hard for any creature.”

  “You still miss your husband,” Ed said, not quite believing he wanted to further this particular conversation. He knew the woman had her troubles. But then so did he, and it was best if they dealt with their own, privately.

  Maggie tipped her head to the side as if considering his statement. “Of course I miss Mason. We loved each other very much. I see him in my children, particularly Johnny.” She paused.

  “I don’t know,” she added wistfully, “I expect there’ll always be a hole in my heart somewhere. It’ll get smaller—it already has, but there will always be a hole.”

  “Expect you’re right about that.”

  “What would it say about what Mason and I shared if I just completely forgot him? That wouldn’t be right.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.”

  “So, how was your meeting last night?” Maggie asked softly.

  “Fine,” Ed grunted. He stood and pulled on his gloves, eyeing what yet needed to be done to finish the fencing.

  “I dunno, Maggie. He seems so, so masculine,” Flo Zimmerman stuttered. “How can you work side by side so much of the time and not be attracted to him. He might not be the best catch…”

  “Humph. Ed Harrington is a means toward an end. That’s it. No romantic interest on my part, or his. No way.” Maggie heard her voice and confidence waver a trifle. It must be the lemonade.

  “I’m not so sure—Dolly and Kenny were singing Islands in the Stream when I left the church for your place. It must be a sign of something.”

  Maggie snickered. “Girl, you’re going to drive me batty with all that stuff.”

  Maggie leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. It was Sunday afternoon and she had invited Flo home for dinner after church and had also asked Harrington to join them if he liked. Putting shy Flo and cryptic Ed at the same dinner table had not made for scintillating conversation, but at least it should have satisfied her friend’s curiosity about the new hired hand. Flo had been so afraid Maggie was putting herself and her family at risk by hiring an unknown man. Ed had gone back to his loft as soon as dessert was finished, leaving the women to talk about whatever they wanted.

  “He’s awfully quiet, but he does seem like a nice enough man,” Flo said, sipping coffee, gazing from the porch to the barn. “And the kids seem to be taking to him nicely.”

  Opening her eyes, Maggie gazed at her friend, whose long fingers were playing idly with strands of dark hair escaping her tight bun. Maggie thought the gangly woman actually looked like she’d been smitten by Harrington. “If you think he’s nice enough, maybe you ought to try and get him to ask you out.” Maggie winced at her own words.

  “Oh, my, I wouldn’t think of doing that,” squeaked Flo. “He’s…he’s your hired man.”

  Tucking a leg under her torso, Maggie nodded. “Yeah, he is that. A hired man. Not a hired lover or anything like that.”

  She sat back again and closed her eyes. It seemed so important to keep the man in his place, yet it was dangerous to even have him around. She was a woman. He was a man. He could definitely be a problem; she could feel it in her bones.

  “Do you think we’re going to get any rain soon?”

  Maggie smiled at Flo’s attempt to find a safer topic for discussion. “I sure hope so. We need to get some pretty soon or there’ll be trouble for everyone in Beaverhill.”

  “I remember the last bad drought.” Flo stretched her long legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. “Sarah kept me on, but had to lay off two of the other girls. And the tips dried up just like the ground.”

  “Maybe it will rain soon.” Rocking back and forth, Maggie prayed that the rain gods were kind this summer. They had to be. They just had to be. What would she do if she couldn’t get a decent cash crop?

  - o -

  Two weeks later, Ed stood beside his boss at the end of the barn driveway overlooking the paddocks. Removing his work gloves, he said, “Nothing fancy, but it will be functional and safe.”

  With reconstructed stalls and paddocks, the barn and corrals could handle a combination of eight racing age horses, along with four broodmares and ten yearlings and weanlings. Not bad. And it hadn’t cost an arm and a leg either. It had required a lot of hard work, but now they were ready for some horses. At last.

  “It looks great,” Maggie chirped, grinning broadly. “It’ll be something to see these paddocks filled with horses.”

  “As I’ve said before,” Ed said, trying not to share his own excitement, “I think you should do that in stages. Pick up a half dozen racing stock now. Maybe a couple yearlings. In the fall, we might want to see about buying three or four broodmares who are already in foal. That’s a good, efficient way to get started. Afraid you can’t expect much return on your investment this year.”

  He headed into the barn. Maggie followed. Stopping in the tack room, Ed reached for an old English saddle and began checking its leathers for wear. He’d been collecting and repairing tack since the day he started working for Maggie.

  Maggie stood in the doorway and watched. “We need a financial cushion to see us through this year,” she said. “All the corn should be planted by the end of the week. Mr. Jacobs and his son will put up the hay. He gets half and I get half. I’ll hold some money back in reserve, but the cash crops are critical for our plans. So, are we ready to make that trip to Chicago you’ve been talking about?”

  “Got to either buy, borrow, or rent a six horse trailer first. I’ve been talking with some contacts up there who raise some decent stock and know of plenty more. We should be able to do all right.”

  Pulling down hard to test the irons, Ed looked across the saddle at the profile of his boss, who had busied herself sorting through a stack of halters and bridles he’d picked up at a saddle shop the day before. Things had sort of settled out between them. He liked that. No longer was he intimidated by her confidence or frustrated by her sensuality. He could take in her subtle beauty without fear of grabbing her. He liked being near her. She always
smelled of lavender.

  He appreciated, too, the freshness she brought to the business of horseracing. Things he took for granted were eye opening surprises for Maggie. It had been so long since he’d broken into the business he’d forgotten how stimulating it could be. And they hadn’t even worked with a horse yet.

  His nostrils narrowed. Maggie Anderson had to have the most expressive, kissable lips he’d ever seen. Quickly, he ducked his head back to the saddle he’d been working on. That line of thinking could only lead to trouble—big trouble.

  - o -

  Without turning, Maggie could feel the warmth of his appraising gray eyes. Surprisingly, she’d become quite comfortable with the man hovering around. He looked at her like a man looked at a woman, although he tried not to let on that he did. His disguised interest flattered and chilled her. She knew he’d never touch her in a romantic way unless she asked.

  Maggie Anderson wasn’t about to get involved with a man no matter how appealing he might be, she promised to no one in particular.

  She was pleased to see that her hired man was putting some weight on. At least three evenings a week he disappeared to attend his meetings. His commitment to staying off booze, so far, was genuine and strong.

  As Maggie reached up to place a yearling halter on a hook, a shadow of a smile formed on her lips. She hadn’t expected Ed Harrington to change so. He cleaned up real well, she supposed. But that wasn’t her business. When would he start dating again? Certainly, a man as good looking as Harrington must have plenty of women to choose from.

  Her right cheek twitched.

  “Now what are you upset about?” Harrington asked. “Did you know your cheek vibrates when you’re angry?”

  “What?” Maggie’s hand flew to her cheek. “Oh. You must be mistaken,” she stammered. “I was wondering if the kids would be okay with Mrs. Murphy checking in on them, or whether she should take them on home with her. Carolyn will have a fit if I make her stay with the Murphys. Do you really think we’ll be gone an entire week?”