by Jane Porter
“Was just laying on the charm.”
“A little bit thick, don’t you think?”
“He left.”
She glanced at Sam after setting two beers on the counter. “Yeah, but he’s not going to disappear, not permanently. He’s too upset. He’s mad at me.”
“What does he want from you?”
“I don’t know. Power, maybe? He liked having me under his thumb. He liked making me feel small. But I’m done feeling that way.”
“Good. So what’s worrying you?”
“How are we going to keep up our act that we’re together? He’s going to come around and ask questions and poke his nose into things.”
“Let him ask.”
“But we won’t be together always.”
“No, I know that. I’m under no illusion that we’re back together. We don’t have a romantic relationship, and we’re not committed to anything other than getting Wes off your back and out of your life.”
Those were the words she wanted him to say, and yet they made her feel awful when they were said. She added another pair of beers to the counter and wiped her hands on a towel as Pia returned with her tray, loading it with the four beers. “And yet you kissed me yesterday,” she said, facing Sam.
“Yes, I did.”
She looked at him, waiting for more, but he said nothing else, and she felt close to losing her temper, because the kiss had been lovely, and she’d felt lovely close to him. “You can’t just kiss me anytime you feel like it.”
“You asked me to get the whip cream on your lip, and I did.”
“There are different ways to do that. Hand, Kleenex—”
“You didn’t used to be so critical of my problem-solving skills.”
Exasperation warred with amusement. This was the Sam she’d fallen in love with. This was the Sam she’d wanted to spend her life with. “I’m not being critical. You did a good job.”
He smiled, creases fanning from his eyes. “Thank you.”
Warm, flustered, Ivy moved down the bar, checking on her customers, refilling drinks as needed, doing her best to ignore Sam who had unleashed a whole bushel of butterflies in her middle.
She was still so attracted to him.
She still felt all the old feelings for him.
Two years apart hadn’t killed her love or desire. He made her feel so much—her body hummed when he was near, skin sensitive, pulse racing. They’d been good together physically, amazing physically, but out of bed, they’d struggled to communicate, and that had become a huge problem.
Eventually, she made her way back down the counter to where Sam sat. He was staring up at the TV watching The Weather Channel. Ivy knew why it was always on—truckers liked the updates—but she avoided it. Far too much news about cold, wind, hail, and snow.
She glanced up at the TV and saw a prediction for snow and shook her head. Never good news.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, seeing her face.
“You’re leaving on the twenty-sixth for Cody. I can’t stay with your family after you’re gone.”
“Why not?”
“It’d be weird.”
“Tommy and Billy would love the company.”
“They’re not going to want to drive me to work every day, and babysit me at the bar—”
“Then come with me to Cody. I’ll babysit you.”
His words made her heart feel funny. Once that would have been a given. Where he went, she went. “That doesn’t make sense. I have to work. I need my truck back. I want to get Scotch back.”
“Speaking of Scotch, I do have some good news. Billy and Tommy went to pick him up for you. He’ll be at our ranch soon.”
Her jaw dropped. “Really?”
He nodded. “I just had a message from Billy that Scotch is in the trailer now. They’re driving back to our place.”
Relief washed through her. Relief and gratitude. She came around the side of the bar and flung her arms around him for a swift hug. “Thank you. That’s huge. I’ve missed my boy so much.”
Sam’s arm came around her waist and hugged her back “Have you missed Scotch, too?” he asked.
Ivy laughed and taking a step back lightly kissed his cheek. His skin was so warm and he smelled of her favorite aftershave. “Yes, I’ve missed you a little bit, too.”
“But Scotch more?”
She knew he was teasing and she was glad that things were easier between them. Lighter. “A cowgirl’s got to love her horses.”
“So when do we get Belle?” he asked.
Her smiled faded. “I wish.”
“Why don’t we buy her back?”
“Because I don’t have the money—”
“I do.”
“I’m not going to accept your money.” Her insides felt weird, her pulse racing. “And even if I had the money, I don’t know that Ian would sell her back to me.”
“You won’t know until you try.”
“You’re so sure of yourself.”
“And you used to be.”
She wasn’t sure if it was a criticism or a comment. Either way, it was pointed and his words struck home. “I lost myself there for a bit, but I’m trying to find my way back. I know what I want now. I know what I need to do. I’m focused on saving money, and growing my business. I’m not going to depend on others anymore.”
“This isn’t new. You’ve always been that way.”
“Wes—”
“Wes was a one-off. Everyone’s allowed to make a mistake. Wes was yours.”
“You’re very kind, because Wes wasn’t my only mistake.” She swallowed hard. “The way I broke up with you was a mistake.”
Sam said nothing and Ivy mustered her courage to continue. “I said things I shouldn’t have said. I was upset, and angry, and I’m sorry, Sam.”
He was silent for another moment and then his big shoulders shifted. “It wasn’t a good breakup, no, but I don’t suppose breakups are pretty.”
“I thought you’d—” Ivy bit the recrimination back.
It didn’t matter what she’d thought, or hoped. It was two years ago. So much had happened since then.
But Sam wasn’t ready to move on. “You thought I’d what?”
Come for me. Ivy looked at him, heart in her throat. She’d wanted him to want her so much that he’d fight for her.
He hadn’t.
Her phone in her back pocket vibrated and she pulled it out, checked the number. It was Jill Snyder, the Montana Circuit Director for the Women’s Professional Rodeo Association. It was Jill who’d alerted Ivy to Ashley’s situation, and Jill who’d asked Ivy to speak with Hope Caldwell, a young competitor near Livingston who’d broken her arm in a riding accident and had lost her confidence. “Hey, Jill, everything okay?” she asked, answering the call.
“I need to call more often if my number makes you think of doom and gloom.”
Ivy heard the smile in Jill’s voice. “Not doom and gloom,” Ivy corrected. “But maybe trauma and tears.”
“You’ve been a great mentor to our local girls. It’s hugely appreciated.”
“Happy to help. Makes me feel close to Mom.”
“She taught you well.”
“Yes, she did.” Ivy paused. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Looking forward to Christmas and a little vacation. But first, I have a favor to ask.”
“What can I do?”
“Would you have time to go see Ashley this weekend? She’s been asking to see you.”
“The family has already thanked me enough.”
“No, it’s not about that. Ashley wants to discuss something with you. But I need to warn you, her family isn’t happy.”
“About her talking to me?”
“About what she wants to discuss.”
Ivy was beginning to understand. “She wants to ride again.”
“She wants to compete again,” Jill said.
Oh. Wow. Ivy bit her lip and glanced over at Sam who pretended to be minding his ow
n business but was, she suspected, listening to every word. “And Ashley’s family?” Ivy asked quietly. “Obviously they’re not in favor.”
“No.”
“Then how am I supposed to weigh in on this?”
“What would you have done if you were just fourteen and told you’d never ride again?”
“I’d find a way to ride,” Ivy said.
“Exactly.”
Ivy didn’t speak right away, picturing the pale, still girl she’d last seen in the hospital in Bozeman. Then she pictured Ashley’s parents. They’d been devastated, and yet fighting hard to look optimistic for their daughter’s sake. “I don’t want to come between her and her parents, Jill. They’ve all been through so much these past five months.”
“Agreed. Everyone I’ve discussed this with feels that way. But apparently what’s gotten Ashley through all the surgeries and physical therapy is the dream to return to riding, and eventually, barrel racing. I guess that’s what she wants to know—can it be done?”
“And that’s why she wants to talk to me.”
“Yes.”
Ivy drew a breath and then exhaled slowly. “I’ll call her mom and get something set up for this weekend.”
“That’s wonderful. Let me know how it goes.”
“Yep.” Ivy hung up and turned around to face Sam. He was looking at her, clearly interested in the call. “You heard that?” she asked him.
He nodded.
Ivy slid the phone into her back pocket. “Do you know about Ashley?”
“She’s the little girl from Belgrade who was hurt in a freak farm accident.”
“She was a junior barrel racer and very promising.” Ivy hesitated. “Horses have been Ashley’s passion since she was a little girl, and her family really supported her.”
“But the girl still wants to ride, and the parents don’t want her to.”
“Ashley still wants to compete… or wants to know if it’s possible.”
“But she’s paralyzed.”
Ivy nodded once. “I see her side, I do, but I also see her parents’ side. They’ve been through hell and back, and they’re still struggling emotionally, never mind financially and I can’t imagine they want to see their daughter in a saddle right away.”
“And you’re going to tell Ashley this?”
Ivy glanced off toward the Ho Ho Ho sign over the far door and remembered how she’d been at fourteen—determined, competitive, and passionately in love with a gorgeous chestnut colt named Belle.
Belle.
Ivy’s heart ached for a moment and then she looked at Sam. “No. I’m going to tell her that with hard work, she can do anything she sets her mind to.”
“Including competing?”
“Surely Ashley can’t be the first paralyzed barrel racer to want to return to the saddle. I just need to find out who has done it, and what it took to get there.”
Sam left the bar at dinnertime to head to another bar, Grey’s Saloon on Main Street, where he was meeting Tommy and Billy for dinner and a beer. His brothers had offered to come to the Wolf Den, but Sam was curious to see if Wes was still in town, and if so, lurking somewhere else.
He and his brothers split up, each visiting a different restaurant between Church Street and Front Street, before meeting back up at Grey’s. They grabbed one of the few empty tables between the pool table and bar. No one had seen Wes, but that didn’t mean Wes hadn’t checked into the Graff or one of the local bed-and-breakfasts. Wherever he was, Wes remained a threat.
*
Late that night as Sam drove Ivy back to the Wyatt Ranch, he asked her how she’d gotten involved with Ashley.
“I was working at the Kruse Ranch, when I heard that a local girl had been paralyzed in a farm accident, and then I read that the girl was Ashley Howe, a youngster I’d worked with briefly years ago when she’d first started barrel racing. Her parents had brought her to Custer to work with Mom, and I worked with her horse and we did some lessons together.
Ivy sighed, shook her head. “Mom thought Ashley had potential to be really good. She didn’t say that often, either, but she said Ashley had what it took, and she suspected she’d go far, if she stuck with the sport. So I reached out to Jill, the director for the WPRA’s Montana Circuit, and told her I wanted to help the family. I already knew about the Go Fund Me, but I wanted to do more than just give money, but the main thing they needed then, was money, if Ashley was to go to the best rehab facility possible.”
Sam glanced at her. “You sold Belle for Ashley’s treatment?”
“I just remember what Mom had said. Ashley could be one of the great ones, and I couldn’t not help. I ended up going to the hospital a half dozen times to visit Ashley until she left for her physical therapy.”
“Have you seen her since?”
“No, but I want to.” Ivy hesitated. “I’ve worked with a couple other girls in the area, though. Jill called me late September when another local girl, Hope Caldwell, had a riding accident and was suddenly scared to ride, and so I went to see her and worked with her, trying to help build her confidence back. I discovered I really liked working with the younger girls. It made me feel like I was doing something positive for the first time in a long time.”
“Like mother, like daughter. Your mom did the same thing.”
“Mom always said it’s good to give back, and she’s right. I love sharing what Mom taught me. I really enjoy teaching.” Ivy gazed out her window at the dark landscape. “That’s why I want to get some land and have some space. There’s no reason I have to compete all the time. I can do other things. I can train horses, I can train young riders, and I can work with these junior barrel racers, giving them encouragement.”
Sam reached over and placed his hand near her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Shelby would be proud.”
“I hope so.” And then she reached for Sam’s hand, holding it tight. “I miss her.”
“I know you do.”
They spent the rest of the drive in silence, but it was a good silence, a comforting silence where Ivy felt understood. She felt even more understood when reaching the ranch Sam asked if she wanted to go see Scotch before heading into the house.
“You know me so well,” she said.
“I know who you love,” he answered, even as dogs came running toward the truck, barking excitedly. Sam rolled down the window, shushing them. They immediately fell silent. “You remember the dogs? Duke, Penny, and Runt?”
“With Runt being the biggest dog I’ve ever seen?”
Sam grinned, parked. “Who knew he just needed some TLC?”
The dogs charged Ivy as she got out of the truck. She gave them a low firm command and they all sat down.
Sam came around the side of the truck to join her. “They’ve always listened to you.”
“They’re good dogs.” She glanced at Sam as they walked to the stable. “How did it go getting Scotch back? No problems?”
“No problem at all. Kruse knew you’d be glad to have Scotch with you.”
The dogs entered the stable with them, tails wagging. They knew they had to behave around the horses. Ivy spotted Scotch even as he gave her an impatient neigh.
“Hey, you,” she said, going to his stall and rubbing his nose. “Long time no see,” she added, giving him another rub, even as she checked out his stall, pleased to see he had hay and feed, along with a water bucket.
“Billy made sure to bring some of the feed from Kruse’s here so we can introduce Scotch to the new feed gradually,” Sam said. “Scotch’s tack is in our tack room for now. Figured you’d want it there.”
“That’s great.”
“Let me give you a quick tour around, as a few things changed since the last time you were here.”
Sam walked her through the big barn, around the enclosed ring, pointing out feed room, tack room, and a caddy box with brushes and combs. “I have a feeling I know what you’ll be doing in the morning.”
“I’m almost tempted to sl
eep in here.”
Sam grinned. “And you probably would if I said you couldn’t, so I won’t do that. But I could make you some tea or instant hot chocolate and send you up to your comfortable bed with something warm to drink.”
“I do like my hot cocoa.”
“I know you do.” He slung his arm around her neck. “Let’s make that hot cocoa and call it a night.”
In the kitchen, while the milk warmed on the stove, Ivy leaned against the counter, and read through her emails on her phone, before sending one to Ashley’s parents letting them know she was available to visit Saturday or Sunday. She didn’t have to be to work until five Saturday, and she was off Sunday but wasn’t sure of the Wyatts’ plans as she was staying with them for now.
Sam found two mugs—a Santa mug for her and a simple brown mug for him—and got out the hot chocolate mix, spoons, and a half-empty bag of marshmallows.
When the milk began simmering, Ivy put her phone away and focused on the milk so it wouldn’t burn. She waited until it turned to a slow boil and then pulled it off the burner. As she measured out the cocoa powder she glanced up and found Sam watching her intently, so intently she flushed.
“Am I doing something wrong?” she asked, suddenly shy.
“No.” His voice sounded unusually deep in the quiet kitchen. “Just like seeing you here. Brings back a lot of memories.”
“We had a lot of good times together,” she said carefully, as she stirred first one cup and then the other, dissolving the powder into the steaming milk. “I’m glad we can be… friends. For awhile there, I thought I had lost you.”
“Just had to keep my distance,” he said.
A thick lump filled her throat making it hard to swallow. She looked up at him, emotions all over the place. “Did you?”
“It’s what you wanted.”
But it wasn’t what she’d wanted. She’d wanted him. Only she’d wanted him to be more open, more affectionate, more… everything… she supposed. “Thank you for being in my corner now.”
“I’ve always been in your corner.”
She blinked, keeping the emotion in check. “One marshmallow or two?”
“Two. It’s a special night.”
“Is it?” she asked, handing him his cup.