Aidan: Loyal Cowboy: Aidan: Loyal CowboyThe Family Plan

by Cathy McDavid

  Sinbad disliked confinement. He was an athletic animal, taking pleasure in racing from one end of the arena to the other or leaping over obstacles most horses would refuse. Advancing age had affected his ability somewhat, but not his desire. If Jolyn were to give him his head, he’d gallop the entire half mile to Chase’s house.

  Instead, they walked. Because of her, not him.

  Jolyn hadn’t raced or jumped or done anything more demanding than a controlled lope around the bullpen since the accident. She hadn’t ridden Sinbad at all until four months ago and then she’d done it against doctor’s orders. But if she hadn’t climbed onto Sinbad’s back soon, she might never have gotten on a horse again.

  Sometimes, Jolyn dreamed about the fall. In her dreams, she and Sinbad were flying over the wagon, just as they’d done in every performance for nine straight years. The crowd held their breath in collective anticipation.

  Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the sharp thwack of Sinbad’s hoof hitting the side of the wagon. She felt his broad body shift beneath her as he was thrown off balance, saw the ground rush up to meet her, heard the sickening crunch when she hit and her own low “Oomph.”

  Agonizing pain shot up her leg, so fierce it literally blinded her. She had no time to recover before Sinbad toppled like a giant oak tree and rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath a thousand pounds of thrashing, terrified horse.

  She was told later that in clawing his way to his feet, Sinbad had injured her further. Broken ribs, a separated shoulder and torn ligaments were only a few of the injuries she’d suffered. Jolyn didn’t remember. She’d lost consciousness well before then.

  She’d replayed the accident often enough to know it was just that: an accident. It could have happened to anyone at any time. Unfortunately, it had happened to her and changed the course of her life forever. She was lucky. It could have ended her life.

  Jolyn rode bareback today, another reason she held Sinbad to a walk and probably why she was thinking about the accident. She’d decided against putting a saddle on him, afraid the cinch might aggravate his injury.

  All at once, Sinbad lifted his head and whinnied shrilly. He recognized their destination, having traveled this same route countless times, and no coaxing on Jolyn’s part could keep him from breaking into a fast trot.

  They reached Chase’s barn just as the sun crested the distant mountains. Jolyn loved morning rides and was glad when Chase suggested she come by early to have Sinbad’s wound examined and the sutures removed.

  Their meeting the previous afternoon had gone well. At least, she thought so. Chase gave no indication of how her bid stacked up against the other two, telling her he’d let her know his decision in a few days.

  The wait would be excruciating. No matter how tempting, she was resolved not to mention the bid or the clinic this morning, even if she had to spend the entire visit biting her tongue.

  Chase must have heard Sinbad’s hooves clip-clopping up his driveway, for he came out from around the side of the house at the same moment she was dismounting. Slowly. Jolyn’s feet touched ground, and she cemented her teeth together to avoid crying out. She led Sinbad around in a small circle, as much to settle him as to walk off the pain in her knee.

  “There,” she said to Sinbad in a whispery voice, “that wasn’t so bad.”

  Chase reached her a few seconds later, a steaming mug of coffee in his outstretched hand. “Morning.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.” She took the mug with fingers that were stiff from constantly yanking on Sinbad’s reins.

  “Hope you still take it with cream and sugar.”

  “I’ve learned to take it any way I can get it, but I still prefer cream and sugar.” She raised the mug to her lips. The coffee was warm but not hot, and she drank several large swallows.

  “So, how’s our boy doing?”

  “Good, I think.” Jolyn led Sinbad over to the hitching post just inside the barn.

  Chase stood beside her, examining Sinbad’s wound. Using his thumb and fingers, he pushed in on the sutures and grunted with satisfaction. “It’s healing nicely. No infection or tearing, and scarring should be minimal. How much of the antibiotics are left?”

  “Two days’ worth.”

  “Finish them off to be on the safe side.”

  He went to his truck, opened one of the compartments and returned with a large wad of cotton, a bottle of some kind of medicine and an odd-looking pair of scissors. After swabbing the injured area, he deftly and quickly removed the stitches. Sinbad’s only reaction was to snake his head around to see what all the fuss was about.

  While Chase was bent over swabbing the area a second time, he said, “When could you start construction on my office?”

  “What?” Jolyn wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

  He straightened, his expression serious except for a barely noticeable crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “When could you start construction?”

  Jolyn’s heart kicked into overdrive. “Um…right away. As soon as the permit’s ready.” She cautioned herself not to jump to conclusions. Chase hadn’t awarded her the job. He’d only inquired about a start date.

  “The permit can be picked up anytime. I just need to give the county the name of the general contractor.” The smile lighting his eyes spread to his mouth. “Which I guess is going to be Sutherland Construction.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  She started to hug Chase, then caught herself. Contractors didn’t hug their brand-new clients. “Thank you, Chase. You won’t be disappointed, I promise. I’ve already put together a tentative schedule just in case and lined up three workers to handle—” She abruptly stopped, realizing she was rambling. Striving to speak slowly, she asked, “Would you like me to drive into Globe today and pick up the permit?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not.” Jolyn had pulled many permits for the contractor in Dallas. None with her own name on them, though. “I’ll leave this morning.” Globe, the county seat, was a good twenty minutes farther away than Pineville and in the opposite direction.

  “What’s next?” Chase asked.

  Jolyn led Sinbad out of the barn, Chase walking beside her. They stopped beside the fence to continue their conversation. “We should sign a contract. What kind depends on your lender, if you have one, and their requirements.”

  “No lender.”

  “Then we have a few options. How about I bring the permit and paperwork by this afternoon? In the meantime, I’ll contact the concrete company, see when’s the earliest they can start.”

  “Better wait until early evening to come over. I have a full day because of taking yesterday afternoon off. I’ll phone when I’m heading home.”

  “Sounds good.” Jolyn began mentally planning her day. “Don’t forget. You’ll need to clear the construction area. I can help tonight.”

  “I think I can handle it.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and removed a business card. “Here. My cell phone’s on that in case you need to get hold of me for any reason.”

  Jolyn took the card and ran her thumb along the crisp edge. The magnitude of the last few minutes sank in, filling her with joy. Thanks to Chase, she had her first big job.

  Sutherland Construction Company was no longer a dream. She pocketed Chase’s business card, resisting the urge to fling her arms wide and laugh out loud.

  Sinbad nudged her elbow with his nose.

&n
bsp; “Somebody’s ready to go home,” she said, hoping Chase didn’t notice the giddy tremor in her voice. “Got something around here I can use as a step up?” Without a saddle and stirrups, Jolyn couldn’t climb onto Sinbad unassisted.

  “I’ll help you.” He bent and linked his fingers together.

  Hesitantly, Jolyn reached out and placed her hand on Chase’s shoulder. It was strong and wider than she remembered, the fabric of his work shirt warm from the morning sun. Lifting her left leg, she placed her booted foot in his cupped hands and prayed her right leg wouldn’t buckle under the strain.

  In the next instant, Chase boosted her onto Sinbad’s back, just like he had countless times when they were younger. Only today, his large and very capable hand lingered on the back of her calf.

  Sensation flowed up Jolyn’s leg, more electrifying than it should be under the circumstances. Chase was her client, her veterinarian, her old friend. But his hand on her leg evoked a response in her that had little to do with business and friendship.

  Sinbad pawed the ground, eager to start home.

  “Take it easy with this big boy for another week or two,” Chase said, still holding Jolyn’s leg. “Don’t gallop or jump him if you can avoid it.”

  “No problem.” She hadn’t done either of those things since the accident.

  “I’ll see you tonight, then.” He squeezed her calf, then stepped back.

  Jolyn waved. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  Chapter Four

  Jolyn stepped back and out of the way as the last of the wet concrete was poured to create the foundation of Chase’s new clinic.

  A moment later, the friendly-faced young driver who’d made the delivery handed Jolyn a receipt attached to a clipboard. “If I could just get your signature, ma’am, I’ll be outta here.”

  She inspected the quantity and the total dollar amount before signing off. The delivery charge was twice the normal rate, but expected. Traveling the road from Pineville to Blue Ridge was both hazardous and time-consuming, forcing her to pay a premium.

  “Thank you.” She returned the clipboard after removing the customer copy for her records.

  “My pleasure.” The young man’s gaze lingered on her a second or two longer than necessary before he turned and left.

  He wasn’t the only one to stare at her with undisguised interest. Jolyn had received similar looks from the clerk at the county office when she pulled the permit, two of the framers and the guy who operated the front-end loader when they’d excavated the ground. His daughter had once competed against Jolyn in barrel-racing events.

  Evidently, men in these parts weren’t accustomed to dealing with a woman contractor. Their interest ranged from blatantly sexual to mildly curious. And while no one had shown her any disrespect, a few of the men had been borderline condescending. If that was the worst treatment she received, she’d consider herself lucky.

  Jolyn walked the perimeter of the foundation and watched the trio of finishers with their long-handled bull floats transform the rough bed of concrete into a smooth, clean expanse. In this heat, the concrete would solidify within a couple of hours. Tomorrow, they would start framing the exterior walls.

  Confident everything was going well, she went to her truck. Opening one of the side-mounted toolboxes, she dug around for a tape measure and a level, which, to her annoyance, weren’t in the last place she’d left them.

  She heard Mandy’s small voice behind her.

  “Whatcha doing?”

  “Hey there.” Jolyn extracted the tape measure with a triumphant grin. “I’m looking for this. And a level. What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. I’m bored.”

  Two dogs sat at Mandy’s heels, purple and pink leashes attached to their collars. One was short, squat and pitifully ugly, the other a shepherd mix with half of one ear missing. As a kid, Chase was forever dragging home stray or injured animals. Jolyn suspected not much had changed in that regard.

  “Can I watch you work for a while?”

  “If it’s okay with your dad.” She thought Mandy looked more unhappy than bored.

  “He’s still inside talking to Mrs. Payne. She’s watching me today,” Mandy said. “After she’s done washing the dishes and folding the laundry, she’s taking me to her house. She doesn’t have satellite TV, you know.”

  “Bummer.” Jolyn resumed rummaging in the toolbox for the level.

  “Yeah.” Mandy sighed.

  “What about games?” Jolyn asked, wondering if the lack of satellite TV was the only reason for Mandy’s dejection.

  “Mrs. Payne doesn’t play games. She sews quilts.”

  Jolyn finally located the level, which was buried at the very bottom. “Let me guess. You don’t like to sew quilts.”

  “I like to dance.”

  “I saw you at the recital last week. You were good.” When Jolyn crossed the yard to the concrete pad, Mandy and the dogs followed her.

  “Are you a dancer?”

  “Me? No.” Jolyn caught the attention of the closest finisher and pointed to a rough patch that needed smoothing. “I took lessons for a while, then quit.” She winked at Mandy. “I didn’t have your talent.”

  “Dad says you and him used to show horses together. Mommy, too.”

  “That’s right,” Jolyn said distractedly. With some difficulty, she knelt on the ground and lowered her head until it was even with the pad, visually inspecting it. “Your mom and I were best friends.”

  “You were!”

  Jolyn cranked her head around. “Your dad didn’t tell you?”

  “No.” Mandy’s face reflected a mixture of surprise, delight and disappointment. “He said you were friends, but not best friends.”

  “Since we were younger than you.” Jolyn tried to stand but her right leg refused to support her weight. Wincing with pain, she braced her hands on her bent left knee and waited a moment to catch her breath before trying to rise again.

  “You okay?” Mandy asked.

  “My leg’s a little sore today.”

  Sore didn’t begin to describe how it felt. Jolyn had been pushing herself hard for weeks now—driving great distances, walking more than usual, tackling the repairs at Cutter’s Market and her new office and riding Sinbad whenever she had a spare hour.

  “Need help?” Mandy took Jolyn by the elbow and tugged.

  Despite the little girl’s spindly arms, she impressed Jolyn by managing to hoist her to her feet.

  “Those dance lessons have obviously paid off.”

  “What?” Mandy furrowed her small, freckled brow.

  “I was making a joke.” Huffing, Jolyn smoothed the girl’s hair. “Evidently a bad one.”

  “Dad says you hurt your leg when you fell from your horse but I’m not supposed to ask you about it because you might be…” She scrunched her mouth to one side. “Sensitive.”

  Jolyn laughed. “You can ask me any questions you want. I don’t mind.”

  “I’d rather you tell me about my mother.”

  She really should get back to work, but the desperation on Mandy’s face tugged at Jolyn’s heart. She didn’t understand how SherryAnne could leave her child behind and visit only once during the last two years. Surely professional rodeo riders got vacations once in a while.

  “You look like her.”

  “Everybody tells me that.”

  “It’s true.” Jolyn’s mother was deluding herself if she thought she saw something
of Jolyn in Mandy. “But you act more like your dad.”

  “He didn’t eat his vegetables, either?”

  “Okay,” Jolyn conceded, “there may be a few differences between you.”

  “And he likes horses more than I do. I’ve got a pony and everything, but I’d rather dance.”

  No, Mandy was definitely not the least bit like Jolyn. “You’re nice like he is. And sweet. Kind of quiet, too, until you get to know somebody.”

  SherryAnne had always been a loud whirlwind of a person, who existed at the center of her own world. She’d alternate between lavishing affection on her friends and snubbing them.

  Her and Jolyn’s relationship had been a complex one—they were friends, but also rivals. Jolyn diligently kept that rivalry restricted to the horse arena, refusing to let it involve Chase. She’d clearly made the right decision, because she and Chase had remained close through the years.

  The same wasn’t true for her and SherryAnne. They’d hardly spoken after SherryAnne’s affair with Steven was discovered and not at all since Jolyn left Blue Ridge.

  “What did you and Mommy do together?”

  Jolyn concentrated on the good memories, those before high school when Chase went from being a boy in their class to SherryAnne’s love interest.

  “You probably won’t believe this but your mom adored Barbie dolls. I think she must have had five or six and a few of Barbie’s friends.”

  Mandy’s face lit up. “I have Barbies, too.”

  “When we were a little older, we used to go to Cutter’s Market pretty much every day. Mostly we rode our horses but sometimes we took our bikes or walked. You mom would buy the latest teen magazine and cut out pictures of all the cute boys. Then she’d tape the pictures to the wall behind her bed.”

  “Really?” Mandy’s tone suggested she didn’t understand the appeal. “I have pictures of ballerinas on my wall.”