Heat Wave (Riders Up)

by Adriana Kraft

  “Hey,” he gasped brusquely. “Thought you said no more seduction on your part.”

  Maggie raised her eyebrows. Placing her hands on her hips, she announced, “Mr. Harrington, by now you should know me well enough to understand that a little buss on your hard head is no attempt at seduction.” She snaked a finger down his bicep. “If I were in the seducing mind, you’d know it, and we wouldn’t be standing her conversing like we’ve got all day. Nope, that was just good nursing skills. Didn’t your momma ever kiss you on the forehead when you were sick?”

  Shaking his head, trying not to laugh, he teased in a low, sexy voice, “You’re right. I forgot. If you were seducing me, you’d have that blouse undone and you’d be pulling on a taut nipple. Your blue eyes would glaze over like a high mountain lake. And that rosebud mouth of yours would be puckered in a bewitching pout. Your other hand would be sneaking its way inside your jeans.”

  Maggie slapped at his hand. “Enough. Now who’s seducing? And you not able to do anything about it even if you wanted to.”

  “Ah, Maggie,” he groaned, inching himself up into a sitting position, “you look good enough to eat when you get your dander up.”

  He saw her make a face, but he ignored it. “We’re safe for the moment; you’re right about that. You know, you are an enigma. How does someone who can hardly stretch to five feet get to be so brassy?”

  It was Maggie’s turn to laugh. “You never knew my dad.”

  “He must have been quite a character.”

  “Apparently, more than I ever realized.”

  “So he made you think you didn’t need balls to get what you wanted.”

  “It never mattered to him that I was a girl.” Maggie chewed on her lower lip before continuing. “He always said I could do whatever I wanted as long as I didn’t turn my back on the values of the land. Work hard, he’d say, and the land will reward you. Try to stay in step with the seasons—time marches on, you can’t hold onto it, you can only go with it like trying to ride a horse. Put your trust in the land and it will repay you like you were a princess. It may rip you apart with hail, or flood, or drought, but in the long run it is more dependable than any damn human ever will be.”

  Sighing, Maggie glanced out the window at the parched lawn and premature drying of the trees. “I hope he’s right. This heat wave is a test of our commitment to the land.”

  Maggie held out the soup spoon towards him. “Life has not been easy, that’s for sure.” She hesitated. “I imagine the land tempers a person, like the old timers used to work a plowshare on an anvil. Besides, I’m not as strong as you think. If I were, how come you can turn me inside out by just touching me? Or just saying those sexy words to me?” She blinked. “Why can’t I just let you walk out of my life? Now that would be strength.”

  “You may be right about that,” he admitted, separating his lips for the proffered spoon. “I’ve certainly given it a lot of thought, and I sure don’t understand why you insist on keeping me around. You’d be much better off if you’d just send me packing. I’ve endangered your family by coming back here.”

  “Would you stop saying that? Please,” Maggie countered quickly. “We’re in danger as long as I don’t fold up and sell out. You just got in the middle of things. You’d be out of trouble entirely if you hadn’t come back. Maybe I was unfair insisting that you return to the farm. Maybe I’m too selfish.”

  “Nonsense. I couldn’t just walk away leaving you vulnerable. Might not have come back to the farm if you hadn’t been so damn stubborn about it, but I never would have left the area until this thing was settled.” Ed touched the swelling under his left eye. “When someone gives you a beating like I got, things become personal in a hurry.”

  Grimacing, she removed the empty soup dish and sat on the side of the bed. “Here you are hovering about trying to protect me,” she said, “and I hardly know you.”

  Ed smirked sheepishly. “I’d say you know me better than most.”

  “I don’t mean in that way,” she scoffed, brushing back a clump of hair from his brow. “Who are you? You call me an enigma, but you’re the real enigma. How did you get into horse racing?” Glancing away, she whispered, “Why should I trust you?”

  “Do you always close the barn door after the horse has dashed off?” Ed scowled. He wasn’t one who liked revisiting the past. The past was best buried. But he also knew that once Maggie got her claws into something, she hung on until she was satisfied. He didn’t have the reserve energy to fight her.

  “There’s not much to tell,” he began reluctantly. “I grew up above a crossroads grocery store near Clarion. My ma ran the store. My dad traveled a lot, selling whatever he could get cheap.” Ed halted.

  “That’s it?” Maggie’s eyebrows arched. “That’s not much of a story. Obituaries are longer than that. Did you have brothers and sisters?”

  “Yeah. One brother. Last I heard he was in jail somewhere in the east. We don’t talk much.”

  “Oh. So did you work in the store when you were a boy?”

  “Sure. That’s how I got spending money, and Ma needed the help.”

  “Didn’t your dad help when he was home?”

  Ed glanced away from her intensity. “Seldom. He was too busying chasing around the bars.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you finding out what you wanted to know?” Ed mumbled sourly, folding his arms.

  “Yes.” Maggie would not be deterred. “I want to know who you are. We can’t select our families, you know; they come with the package. However difficult things were, you’ve done well for yourself.”

  “Right,” Ed spat out in disgust. “I’m just a shining example of success—poor boys rises to the ranks of the wealthy only to piss it away through scandal and booze.”

  Maggie’s eyes blazed at him. “So, are your parents still alive?”

  “Nope. Ma worked herself to death by the age of fifty-five. Dad was quicker. By fifty-one he’d drunk himself into the grave.”

  Her face fell. “Damn. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be. Like you said, we can’t select our families.” Ed flashed a sarcastic grin. “Ma taught me a lot about survival, and Dad taught me more than I ever needed to know about escape. What else does a kid need to know?”

  “Love.”

  “Huh?”

  “A kid needs to be taught about love,” Maggie said, shifting her weight uneasily on the mattress. “How to receive love and how to give love.”

  “I suppose Ma loved me,” Ed replied thoughtfully. “There just wasn’t much time for her to show it. Dad? Dad was likely afraid of love.”

  “And you’re not afraid of love?”

  Ed closed his eyes, kicking himself for not seeing the trap the wily female was setting. He’d been too focused on avoiding the past to realize the greatest danger sat right next to him in the present.

  Maggie pressed on. “Why did you leave Clarion? How did you get to Chicago? I’ll lay odds it was a woman.”

  Ed’s eyes sprang open.

  Maggie laid her hand over his. “Tell me about her.”

  “Why?” he grunted, annoyed by her perceptiveness and persistence. “It’s ancient history. Nothing good can come from rehashing it now.”

  “I want to know,” Maggie insisted, jutting out her chin stiffly. “You know all about me. I want to know about you.”

  “So maybe you like to talk about yourself more than I do.”

  She squeezed his hand.

  His eyes closed, but he did begin to speak. “I was twenty-one; Amy was nineteen, the daughter of a lawyer from a neighboring town. We met at the community college where we were both taking some courses part-time. Her family wanted her to go to a private school in the east, but her grades weren’t good enough. She was trying to get her grade point up and I was just taking some courses in agriculture for the hell of it. I was working for a hog farmer at the time who owned three farms. He encouraged me to take the courses and planned on having me manage one of t
he farms.”

  “Really. You wanted to be a farmer? And here you are.”

  Ed frowned. “Please, don’t bounce on the bed.”

  Chastened, Maggie muttered, “Sorry.”

  He watched her sit very still, pleading with her eyes for him to continue his story. “Anyway, it was love at first sight. She was my dream girl: tall, long blond hair, former cheerleader, zestful. And I guess I was her dream guy. It turned out to be a nightmare.”

  Ed paused. Maggie held her breath until he went on.

  “We decided to marry. The day before the wedding, she telephoned to inform me that she couldn’t go through with it. As a girl, she’d set her sight on someone higher than me. Amy had gotten so wrapped up in the whirlwind of romance that she forgot what she and her family wanted and had overlooked who I really was and what kind of future was likely for us. In short, I wasn’t good enough for her.”

  Ed shifted to his side and placed a hand on Maggie’s waist. “Call it acute wedding jitters for the bride or that her parents had finally gotten through to her—call it what you want—the wedding was off. She had relatives already in the air coming from all across the country to attend the ceremony. Instead of a wedding, her family held a big party in the place where we were to have had our reception. They celebrated Amy’s nerve to dump a guy that didn’t measure up before it was too late.”

  “How terrible,” Maggie whispered, leaning over to brush her lips across his creased brow.

  “Not looking for sympathy. It happened a long time ago.”

  “Just good nursing skills,” Maggie reminded. “So you left for Chicago.”

  “You bet. I left the very next day. I only regret not being able to give Mr. Hobson enough notice. He seemed to understand and wished me well.”

  “How did you get wrapped up with horseracing? That’s quite a leap, from hogs to horses.”

  Absently, Ed stroked Maggie’s arm as he responded to her question. “When I was ten, my dad took me along on one of his sales trips. He took me to the old Arlington Park track. I was bitten hard by the bug. I dreamed a lot about horses, about being a jockey, about owning them. But those were a kid’s dreams. Until I got pushed out of Iowa.”

  “Out of adversity comes the light.”

  “Maybe. Anyway, when I got to Chicago, I hooked up with a trainer. I started as a groom and worked my way up.” Ed shrugged. “End of story.”

  “Women?”

  Chuckling, Ed winked at his inquisitor. “Are we going to leave any stone unturned?”

  “No.”

  “Sure, there were women,” he admitted, idly pushing back a strand of Maggie’s hair. “Plenty of them. Too many, I guess. But none serious. Being dumped once was one too many times.”

  “Ah. Are you afraid I’ll tire of you and dump you?” Maggie asked, her voice dropping half an octave.

  Ed thought long before replying. He’d hoped he’d shared enough so she would realize there was no lasting future for them. Maybe she’d have enough sense to back off. Common sense when it came to her and him seemed to only come from one direction—his.

  “I don’t know about that,” he said cautiously. “But you and I are very different. You’re rooted in the soil; I’m a rolling stone. And that’s the way I like it.”

  “I appreciate your honesty, Ed.”

  Ed watched her debate the wisdom of taking him on about their difference.

  “What about the Travers?” she asked. “Where do they fit? Was Cassie one of those women you chased around with?”

  “Hardly.” Ed chuckled softly. “She didn’t want to have anything to do with me beyond swapping information between trainers. I was in my carefree stage when I met her. Too much beer, too cocky, and too footloose. Besides, she was in the middle of a cross country affair with Clint shortly after I met her. He had a ranch and raised thoroughbreds in Utah. He’s part Ute. I didn’t like him at all at first. But turns out he’s really a solid fellow. They’re madly in love—still. Renews one’s faith in marriage, a bit.”

  “Oh.” Maggie swallowed hard.

  “Yes. They’re both good people and deserve each other. I’m pleased for them and they’ve become good friends. Turns out they stick by you when most friends dash for cover if things start to turn sour,” he went on bitterly.

  “I’m sorry. You know I won’t dash for cover when the going gets tough,” Maggie asserted, her eyes glistening.

  Ed nodded. “I know. You’re a tigress masquerading as a sexy female of the human species,” he muttered, cupping her chin. “Now, why don’t you get off my bed before I do something I might regret later on?

  - o -

  The corner of Maggie’s mouth turned up. She heard the emotion contained in his words and saw the tent forming in the sheet between his legs. He was in no shape for romance. She stood. She’d learned a lot, perhaps more than Ed realized. There was much to think about.

  She still trusted her bones and her heart; this was her man. She understood more about why he ran when things seemed to be at their best. Funny, in him she had a man who tried to escape her love, but would return to protect her from danger. He might run far, far away at the first whiff of personal success, yet he’d do all he could so she wouldn’t fail.

  He was definitely worth waiting for. She was beginning to think she had more patience than a cat staring at a dormant mouse hole.

  As if he could read her mind and didn’t want her to hold onto a single illusion, Ed said, “Don’t get that faraway look of yours, Maggie. I’m just going to hole up here and heal some. Then we’ll find out what’s really going on here about your land. And then I’ll be moving on.”

  Maggie clenched her fists at her sides. Was she furious, or was she beyond such a mundane feeling? Dazed, she picked up the dishes and started to leave.

  “You’ve known all along that I’m the drifting type,” Ed said to her back.

  Maggie ignored his strained words. She struggled to keep her balance in her rush down the stairs. Getting away from Ed Harrington was her most important objective of the moment. If she didn’t place some distance between him and her, he might wind up dead. And she had no desire to see the inside of a prison.

  Later that afternoon Maggie was on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. Her arms were tiring. She’d been at it for over an hour. The soapy water had long since turned cold. Her tennis shoes, cutoffs and light blouse were soaked. The yellow bandana around her head couldn’t keep perspiration from flowing down her tear-streaked face.

  She sat back on her haunches assessing her clean floor. “Good,” she muttered. “Now all I have to do is get rid of the idiot.” She’d a belly full of Ed Harrington. She had a farm to save. There was not enough time to mess up her life with false hopes of romance. Spying a tile that didn’t look clean enough, Maggie grabbed the sponge and started working on the recalcitrant spot.

  She never heard the door close.

  “Are you nesting, or trying to tear the house apart?”

  Maggie glanced up to see Flo Zimmerman staring down at her with a look of awed disbelief. “Neither. I’m just cleaning the damn kitchen floor. Is that okay?”

  “Oh.” Flo took a step backward toward the porch. “I just brought by the medicines you wanted me to pick up at the pharmacy. You can pay me later.”

  “Don’t go,” Maggie said, rising to her feet with sponge in hand. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just not been a very good day. Thanks for bringing the stuff. I’ll get some money.”

  “No, you’re all wet and in the middle of something. Pay me next time you’re in town. How is your hired man? Mr. Harrington.”

  “He could be dead as far as I’m concerned.” Maggie twisted her mouth and stared at the floor. Looking back at Flo, she said, “He’ll mend. And then he’ll move on.”

  “Oh.” Flo clasped her hands behind her back. “You know, at first Brad thought your hired man was just trying to use you. And then he changed his mind. Just before he left town, Brad came by the diner
. He thought the kids really liked the man and that you were all gonna be a family. Brad actually seemed quite happy about that.”

  “Shows you what my brother knows.” Maggie glanced sharply at Flo standing in the doorway looking like she was trying unsuccessfully to keep a secret. “So what is my brother doing confiding in you?”

  Flo’s skin turned rosy pink. “Nothing. He just likes to come in and have a cup of coffee at the counter.” Her fingers twisted at the knot of the belt of her skirt. “He’s changed a lot, you know.”

  Closing and opening her mouth, Maggie shook her head. “Oh my God. Not you. Sensible Flo. You know he goes through women like water comes out of a spigot.” She looked quickly at the sink faucet; her hand flew to her mouth. “You can’t be too careful around my brother. Well, he won’t be around often.”

  “He’ll be back for Thanksgiving. He said you invited him.”

  Maggie frowned. “Right, I did. I forgot.” She scrutinized her friend. “Be careful, Flo. You’re my dearest friend, and he’s my brother. Be very careful.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” Flo stammered. “I think.”

  “So why do you flush and stutter every time you speak of him?” Maggie regretted her words immediately. Flo’s pained looked needed no elaboration. Maggie kicked herself for hurting her friend. “You’ll do fine, Flo. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You can keep Brad at bay if you want to.” Maggie wished she believed that.

  Seeing yet another blotch on a tile, Maggie stooped to wipe it up.

  “I best be going, Maggie,” said Flo. “I’m sorry about Harrington.”

  “Yeah, well everything works out for the best.” Maggie’s heart tumbled, belying her confidence. “He’ll be on his way shortly, and then maybe life can return to normal.”

  “Normal isn’t always so good.” Flo blinked and wiped perspiration from her brow. “But he is a lot of man.”

  Maggie’s brain exploded. She stood and hurled the wet sponge at the kitchen table. “Why the hell does everyone think I’m not woman enough for Ed?”

  Flo retreated to the middle of the porch. “I didn’t say that.”