Heat Wave (Riders Up)

by Adriana Kraft

  As they crossed the Mississippi River at the Quad Cities, Maggie could stand the silence no longer. “I’ll bet the kids are getting anxious to see the horses.”

  Ed jumped as if she’d popped a balloon near his ear. He scowled before responding, “Yeah, Johnny’s probably been sitting on the steps watching for an hour or more already.”

  “He sure is excited. Carolyn is too, but she won’t be as transparent about it. She’s too grown up for that.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’ll be interesting to see how much they like horses once they see how much work’s involved.”

  “If I know my kids, I think they’ll be enthralled. Both of them. Neither one’s afraid of work, as long as they know what’s expected of them.”

  “Guess that’s my job.”

  Glancing out the passenger window, Maggie watched the farms come and go. Some were working farms; most were only shadows of what they once had been. “Yeah, that’s your job.” Turning her gaze toward her driver, she asked, “How good are you at teaching, Ed?”

  “Don’t know,” he responded with a half groan. “I’ve had to train a lot of grooms and owners over the years. Seemed to work out okay most of the time. Guess we’ll find out soon enough. Results might depend some on how good my pupils are.”

  “Maybe I can find a delicious apple to give my teacher,” Maggie teased, warming to the idea of having Ed as her teacher. “Or is that what Eve did for Adam?”

  Ed turned several shades of pink and coughed, redirecting his attention to his driving.

  Maggie smiled to herself. Once she made up her mind about something, she seldom changed. Her mind was made up about Ed Harrington. She could bide her time; she might even try ignoring him for awhile to see what he’d do. But no matter what he did, Ed Harrington would be pursued like he’d never been pursued before. Maggie Elizabeth Magee Anderson was not known for giving up.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Boy, they sure are big,” Johnny declared, his eyes bulging.

  “That they are,” Ed agreed. It pleased him to see the boy’s enthusiasm. It was Johnny’s turn. He’d waited two weeks watching his mother and Carolyn being instructed on the fine points of grooming and exercising horses.

  Ed had done some initial teaching with all three of the Andersons, but he much preferred working with one student at a time so he could devote his total attention to the horse and one other person. And that also meant he wasn’t always surrounded by the smell of lavender.

  Leading an older chestnut mare, Ed said to Johnny, “Horses aren’t like a pet dog or cat. For one thing, they weigh a heck of a lot more than we do. One wrong move and you can be stepped on or kicked. Horses are naturally skittish. Most anything can startle them. Even if you do everything right, someday you’ll be stepped on or kicked. Hurts like hell, but you’ll survive.”

  Ed glanced down at Johnny, whose stare was fixed on the horse’s rear feet.

  “This mare,” Ed said, tying the lead rope to a hitching post and running his hands up and down the horse’s front legs feeling for swelling and heat, “should be a good one for you to begin with. She’s mild mannered. Likely close to the end of her racing career. She’ll make a good broodmare someday.”

  “When will we have babies?”

  “Not until late next winter or early spring. We’ll have to buy their mothers in the fall. You think you’re going to like the foals, huh?”

  “Oh yeah.” Johnny shot a quick smile at Ed. “They’ll be great. I can hardly wait.”

  “I can see that. Maybe by then you’ll be calm enough with them to help me with the foaling.” Ed stifled a grin as the towheaded boy puffed his chest. “Now let me show you how to brush this one. Remember, there’s no time for daydreaming when you’re around a horse. First, we’ll let her get to know you.”

  Ed guided the boy’s hand toward the mare’s muzzle. Johnny’s eyes widened. With a mild display of interest, the mare sniffed and then rubbed her large lips his hand.

  “That tickles,” Johnny giggled, pulling back. The mare followed the boy until her head rested against his chest.

  “Think she wants to be scratched liked this.” Ed ran his fingers along the horse’s neck and between her ears. “She’s having a good time. Notice her ears—they’re tilted toward you. Now she’s got one forward and the other back. Horses talk to you with their ears.”

  “No way,” Johnny said in hushed tones. He stared intently at those ears twitching back and forth, listening.

  “Believe it. If you see a horse with its ears pinned back, you better do something to calm the animal or get out of its way. That horse is telling you it’s frightened and will likely kick or run off, or do both. This old chestnut is having too much fun right now for any of those shenanigans.

  Ed ran a brush across the mare’s belly; the animal dipped its back asking for more. “Some horses are social like this one, but some aren’t. You can’t take anything for granted with a horse. It’s always good to hum or speak softly when you’re grooming. That way a horse will know where you are. Keeping a hand on its body as you walk around also helps them keep track of you. Horses don’t like surprises. They like very predictable, slow moving routines. You think you can do that?”

  Johnny reached for the brush in Ed’s outstretched hand. “I’ll sure try,” he said earnestly.

  Ed smiled inwardly at the squeak in the lad’s voice. The kid was likely wondering if he had a slow speed in his body. That was one thing about horses—they taught you how to slow down. They taught a person how to be alert and relaxed at the same time.

  - o -

  On the concrete washing pad next to the barn, Maggie and Carolyn scrubbed a gray gelding that was away from the track for a rest. Maggie refilled a water bucket with a hose and looked over to see Ed working with her son and the mare.

  Ed’s patience often surprised her. He had the patience of a good father. She closed her eyes, blotting out the intimate scene that conjured up. Where had that idea come from? But she was right. He would make a good dad, although that was probably the furthest thought from his mind.

  Routines were settling in at Anderson Stables. Ed had taught each of them how to muck out a stall well enough for it to meet his approval. He was very finicky about such things. Every morning after one of them thought they had done it just right he’d would come by and inspect. Too often, he discovered a wet spot. “You can’t have a race horse with bad hooves,” he would intone. Without any display of anger, he’d reinstruct the embarrassed worker in the proper way of cleaning the stall until it was done right. There were fewer mistakes each day.

  Cold water penetrated Maggie’s tennis shoes. She peered down at the overflowing pail and lurched backward, jerking the hose away. The spray caught Carolyn full in the chest.

  “Mom!” the girl shrieked, dodging from the cold water.

  Instantly, the gelding shied back and forth, nearly stepping on mother and daughter.

  Maggie pulled the lead rope sharply, getting the nervous gelding’s attention. “It’s okay, big guy. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Sorry, Carolyn, I guess I was daydreaming.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” Ed uttered the demand through clenched teeth, obviously trying not to further excite the horse.

  “I’m sorry,” Maggie stammered, her cheeks flushing rosy pink. “It was an accident. I was thinking…what to have for supper.”

  Seeing irritation flicker across his face, Maggie stood her ground, wondering what had made his patience evaporate so rapidly. He seemed to exercise much more tolerance with the kids than with her. The entire Anderson family stood with slumped shoulders waiting for Ed Harrington to burst.

  Ed glared at the three of them. Maggie watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall as if he were trying not to shout. At last his words came out of an icy calm.

  “This isn’t a game you’re playing. These are high strung thoroughbreds, not Shetland ponies. They can step on you, kick you or bolt if you startle them.”

  Holding
her breath, Maggie tried not to react to his insinuation that she and Carolyn had been playing a game. She watched Ed approach the gelding and run his hands softly over the animal’s withers. Clinching her teeth, she fumed at his disregard for her ability to calm the unnerved horse—and at his fingers soothing the horse’s flesh.

  Stepping back from the horse, Ed sighed, “Okay, no harm was apparently don this time. But none of you can let your minds wonder. You’ll screw up, and the next time you’ll be flat on your back or worse.”

  “I’m sorry,” Maggie mumbled, unable to make eye contact with her hired man.

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it with horses. They don’t know the meaning of the word. You’ll have to do better than that.”

  Maggie nearly wilted under his paternalistic glare. Remembering who she was, she squared her shoulders in defiance. Damn, she was the boss. It was her money that paid this guy. Her cheek twitched. What a farce. She was trying to run a business she knew next to nothing about and was catching abuse from a man who didn’t care one iota about her.

  “Another thing,” Ed thundered. “How many times do I have to tell you to wear boots when you come down to the stables?”

  Maggie gulped and peeked down at her offending sneakers. He was right; she’d been in such a hurry to help with the chores she’d forgotten to change shoes.

  “And, you, young lady,” he groused at Carolyn, who took a step backward, “get yourself dressed the next time you come down here.” With that demand hanging heavily in the air, Ed stomped into the barn leaving his workers to gape at each other.

  Oh, my. Maggie clamped a hand over her wide open mouth. He was right again. Damn him. Carolyn hadn’t worn a bra. Her pert nipples and small round breasts were on full display through the soaked yellow tank top.

  “I don’t think horses give a damn what I wear,” hissed the fourteen year old, finding her voice.

  “Don’t look so mortified. Ed’s right, you forgot to put on a bra this morning.” Maggie’s mouth turned up slightly. “Besides, there aren’t any boys out here to attract.”

  “Mom!”

  Watching her teenage daughter stalk toward the house, Maggie wondered why Carolyn hadn’t put on a bra. The only male to see her was Ed Harrington and he was old enough—she shivered—to know better, that was for sure. A mother daughter talk was in order, most definitely.

  She and Ed Harrington would at least agree on that. His overreaction earlier began to make more sense. He’d been enraged at Carolyn’s brazenness. That was understandable, yet he did seem overly protective of all of them. Yes, each of them would probably be stepped on or kicked at some time. Ed couldn’t prevent that from happening.

  Turning to speak to Johnny, Maggie shrugged seeing the boy had already returned to brushing the mare. Ed stood next to him clucking about something. Damn, she was getting tired of the tension. She knew it wasn’t all caused by the horses, saving the land, or girls without bras.

  Whether he’d admit it or not, she’d gotten under his skin just as he was definitely under hers. He was like an itch that wouldn’t go away; trying to ignore the annoying ache didn’t seem to be working at all.

  Later that evening, Maggie sat across from her pouting daughter in the small room she affectionately called her office retreat. After Mason’s death, she’d turned a tiny bedroom into a den of sorts. Slouching piles of bills and ledgers sat on one corner of an oak desk. A computer took up space on another corner. Dust across its keys attested to the amount of time she devoted to learning how to use it. That was the problem. It took less time to enter the figures in a ledger than it did to learn how to manipulate a spread sheet. On the floor beside the desk and in front of the small sofa across from it, where Carolyn sullenly waited, sat piles of tattered magazines and books on horseracing.

  Supper had been a silent affair. Ed stayed away; no one seemed in the mood for conversation.

  Reluctantly, Carolyn had joined her mom. She sat rigidly, refusing to soften her defiant stance.

  Maggie glanced at the framed picture on her desk. It had been taken at a family picnic three years earlier. Everyone seemed so happy then. Did the picture lie? Just a little? Sure, there had been conflicts. Most families had some, just like most family pictures lied, a little bit. Three years ago no one could have foreseen what was to happen—Mason’s death, Anderson Racing Stables, a haggard stranger becoming her hope for saving the land, that same stranger wreaking havoc on her mind and body. The picture remained an important memento of the past; it had nothing to say about the future.

  Frowning, Maggie wondered what Mason would have said to his daughter about her untoward behavior. She shook her head. It didn’t matter what he might do. She was the only one there to deal with the situation. Patience. She needed patience.

  “Well, what were you trying to do going down to the barn without a bra on?” Maggie inquired gently, trying not to accuse. “You’ve grown to be a young woman. You have to dress like one.”

  Carolyn’s sulk deepened. Was this the beginning of the dreaded teenage rebellion? They had been spared most of that, so far. She’d always enjoyed their mother daughter confidences. Now, she feared part of who they’d been was slipping away. “We’ve always been able to talk. I’m more upset with your withdrawing from me than about the show you put on at the barn.”

  A trace of a smile crossed Carolyn’s lips.

  “Not wearing a bra was a deliberate choice wasn’t it?”

  Her daughter’s eyes went wide with fear; then she nodded hesitantly.

  “Why? Surely, you don’t think Mr. Harrington…”

  “Oh, Mother,” Carolyn interrupted, crossing her arms across her chest. “You don’t know what it’s like to be ignored. Boys don’t seem to notice me. You had Dad, and now Ed can hardly keep his eyes off you.”

  Maggie blushed.

  “I just wanted him to notice me. I’m not stupid. God, he’s old enough to be my father. I just wanted to be noticed. He hardly ever looks at me.”

  Moving to hug her daughter, Maggie murmured, “Guess you got his attention. Promise you won’t pull a stunt like that again.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” she said biting her lip. “I’m so mortified. I didn’t think he’d freak out, though. I thought women were supposed to tease men.”

  “Not all men like to be teased. Especially men like Ed Harrington.”

  Maggie watched her daughter try to stifle her sobs. “You know, I do remember what it was like to be fourteen. Boys my own age seemed so immature. I dated a senior briefly, but he wanted much more than I was ready to give.”

  “But at least you were noticed.”

  “Yeah, but not particularly for the right reasons. Any way, boys your own age will start paying attention real soon, I expect. I’ll probably have to use a broom to keep them at bay. You’ll be lucky if Ed doesn’t use a shotgun.”

  Carolyn nodded, half smiling. “He sure does seem to think he has to protect us all.”

  “Must be some kind of macho instinct.”

  Chuckling, Carolyn wiped tears away. “Mom, are you involved with him? Romantically, I mean.”

  “I know what you mean. I don’t think it’s something a mother ought to be discussing with her daughter.”

  “He’s kind of old fashioned in some ways, but God, he is handsome.”

  “You can leave God out of this. But you don’t think I should be involved with him?” Maggie probed cautiously.

  “It’s not that. It’s just, he seems so, so manly.”

  “Manly! You mean you don’t think I’m woman enough for him?”

  “Mom, you’re my mother,” Carolyn gasped. “But you do look cute when you get angry with him.”

  “Well, this concludes our mother daughter conversation, young lady. You must have something else you need to do.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you off the hook,” Carolyn said, standing to leave. “In case you’re still curious, I think you’re woman enough for any man.”

  Maggi
e’s mouth stayed open long after the door to her daughter’s room closed.

  She stood and walked to a bookshelf. After absently perusing her library of contemporary novels, she glanced at the clock. It was not too late, only a little after eight. Through the office window, she saw a light in the loft apartment.

  They had to talk about the events of the day. Ed could not be so interfering in her family’s life. She might need him in a lot of ways, but the family disciplinarian was not one of them.

  - o -

  The damn woman would drive him crazy, but she wouldn’t drive him to drink, Ed assured himself, raking his fingers through his hair. He’d been sitting in his cushioned chair for over an hour stewing, rehashing over and over how he had gotten himself into such a mess.

  It had been over two weeks since the kiss and he could still taste the crushed mulberries of her lips. Why did they always seem to pucker in such an inviting fashion?

  And what was with Carolyn? How had her mother let her out of the house without a bra on? Good God, didn’t they know what boys and men could do? The sight of taut nipples brought out the natural predator instinct in the male, young or old. If she were his daughter, he’d have the young flirt fitted with a chastity belt. But she wasn’t his daughter. Maybe he’d overreacted some…but not by much.

  Damn, he needed this job. They’d been able to pick up some good horses to work with. Clint had told him he hadn’t given up on clearing his name. Maybe he could yet get back to the track. He missed it so; it was almost like breathing. He’d do most anything to get back to the Chicago circuit. It was heady stuff working with horses worth more than he’d ever make.

  And there was the lifestyle of the track. That was where rarefied air truly existed. Greeting the sunrise, breathing in the heavy early morning mist, dreaming of the next big horse—that was what shedrow was about. The only scent rivaling that of shedrow was the lavender of Maggie Anderson.