His mom grinned at him across the counter. “It depends.”
“On me?”
“You know there was just a minute last night when I saw Abby with her maid of honor mask off. She looked like a newborn filly who doesn’t even trust the legs underneath her yet.”
“Mom, you know I never meant to knock her off her feet. She’s one of the most grounded people I know.”
“You were young and self-absorbed.” She smiled at him. “You might not have known any better.”
“Kinda goes with the territory of being a nineteen-year-old kid.” Of course, it was more complicated than his mom knew, but that was okay. He was used to keeping his dad’s secret to himself. “So you think a squared-away adult might still have a chance with her?”
“If you listen real hard, honey, you’ll be able to hear what her heart is trying to tell you.”
“Okay, Mom.” Wolf’s feet found the floor. He was shaking slightly. He hoped his mom didn’t see it.
His mom shook her head. “So you’re headed to the Macreadys’?”
“Thought I’d talk to Doc first, maybe get his take on things?” Wolf shoved his hands in his pockets, fumbled for his keys. “If it feels right, I might try my luck with Abby.”
“Hey, does she know why you weren’t able to take her to prom?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “The real reason?”
“Do you know the real reason, Mom?”
She laughed, a bit sadly. “I do, sweetie. Your dad and I sorted all that out a long time ago.”
“I thought…” Wolf didn’t want to say it, but he never thought his mom had been in on the secret.
“Your father’s a good man. We’ve put it all behind us now. Have you, though?”
“Sure,” Wolf said. “I mean, I did what I had to do. And it’s fine. I’d do it again if I had to.”
She stood and hugged him, then pulled back, looking into his eyes and appraising him with tears in her own. “I know you would. And I know it’s been hard keeping it a secret all these years. But maybe now it’s time to come clean. She doesn’t know a thing, does she?”
Wolf shrugged. “Not likely. Unless Dad ever had a heart-to-heart with her. Like that would ever happen.”
“Isn’t it time you told her yourself?”
He knew it was true. He knew he wanted to—he just didn’t want to betray someone he loved in the process. “I still feel like it’d be pushing Dad under the bus. Plus, it doesn’t sound like much of an excuse, not when it’s delivered so late in the game.”
“You do realize what a soft nature Abby has, don’t you?”
“But what about Dad? This has still got to be embarrassing for him. I kept his secret this long. Maybe I shouldn’t spill the beans now.”
“You’re not telling the whole world. Abby’s like family. She’s not going to go around spreading gossip. She loves your dad almost as much as you do.”
“You’re right about that. He said he had to twist her arm just to get her to send him an invoice for that mare of his.” She laughed. “So I guess I have your permission. Should I ask Dad about it first?”
“Let me take care of that.” She reached her hands to his face, then traced his cheekbones with the back of her hand. “Now get out of this kitchen and down the road. There’s not a minute to waste.”
Wolf scooped his Resistol off a hook and reached for the front door. When he turned around to wave good-bye, his mother was standing motionless on the black-and-white linoleum, one hand cast across her heart. He read her lips. Go on, she said. Hurry.
The Macreadys’ door was half open. Stella lay diagonally on the mat, her back feet tucked inside, her front paws and face nosing the late-morning breeze on the porch.
“Hey, my friend, where is everybody?” Wolf patted her head. The dog thumped her tail against the floor, then rose slowly to thrust her muzzle into Wolf’s hand. “Actually, I’d settle just to know where Doc is.”
“Gone fishing,” he heard Abby say in an affectless voice.
He startled—he’d hoped he wouldn’t run into Abby first—then stepped inside. She lay stretched across Doc’s old leather couch, the one he’d kept in his waiting room on Riverside Drive. He’d imagined sitting on it, the wiser, older man bolstering his courage so he could talk to Abby in a day or two. But not this afternoon. It wasn’t to be. He needed to man up and find the right words now.
“Is this a bad time?” he asked.
“Not really.” She propped herself up on her elbows, a wet cloth across her forehead. “I have a headache, that’s all.”
“Join the club.” Abby was silent. “I mean, I’m sorry about that, your headache. That was quite a night last night.”
“This isn’t a hangover, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She swung her feet under her, then rolled up the washcloth and set it on the coffee table.
“Well, that’s the good thing about a wedding, I guess. Whatever booze you’ve got in you, you sweat it out on the dance floor.”
“How would you know? I didn’t see much of you out there.” Abby finally raised her eyes to his face. “Two songs, maybe three.”
He’d been in too much pain, of course, but he didn’t want to bring that up again. Of course, even if he’d been feeling one hundred percent, the only person he’d wanted to dance with had wanted nothing to do with him. “Well, your dance card was pretty full, from what I could see.” He paused. “Mind if I sit?”
“Suit yourself.” She tossed a pillow toward the far corner of the couch.
He sat down, then reached for his boots, turning his face toward the door. That pain again, the damned pain. He doubled over.
Abby sat up. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he said gruffly, “that a little R and R won’t fix.”
“Great. Party on, Wolf.”
Without looking at her, he reached across for her hand. “You want to know where it really hurts?” He molded her hand into his, then laid it across his chest.
She let her hand spread open, not resisting him, but not yet yielding.
“If you’ve got something to say,” she said, pulling her hand back, “just say it.”
“First things first. Yep, I was injured down in Polson, and bad. Bad enough I’m not sure if I’ll ever be at full strength again. But that’s not what I came to tell you.” He blew out a long breath. “I want to talk about May 2008—prom and everything after.”
Abby groaned. “You already told me about this. Do we really have to—”
“But I never gave you a full explanation, not really. So here it is, for better or worse.”
Abby made a face. “For better or worse? How’s about we avoid the wedding metaphors?”
Wolf laughed grimly, then cleared his throat and looked directly at her. Once he started, the words fell out in a torrent. “The Friday before prom, Dad called me to come downtown to look over a bunch of papers at your dad’s office. The game was up as far as our ranch was concerned. First, Flathead had been gobbled up by Boise Republic. They were calling in a bunch of loans, including the one on our property.
“Dad was humiliated. But there was no other way around it. He had to come up with the money—we’re talking mid-five figures, a hell of a lot for us—by the end of the month, or the bank would foreclose. Your dad offered to help, of course—that’s why he insisted we meet at his office after hours—but at first, Dad wouldn’t accept. Said stuff like, ‘Wolf is man enough to carry some of the load,’ and ‘Olsen men abide.’ And there was only one way I could ‘abide.’ Dad knew that, and so did I. I went home, packed my bags and took off for Laramie.”
Abby blinked. Once, twice, then kept her eyes on his face. “Wouldn’t you think Bridget would tell me that?” she whispered, almost to herself.
“She didn’t know. Luther didn’t know. Hell, my dad only shared it with your dad and me, for the longest time. I only found out my mom knew this morning.”
Abby leaned toward him. Her hair fell around her face. Sh
adows congregated under her eyes. He felt the need to hurry, so that he might hold her sooner, if she would let him.
“I’m listening.” Whether she was involved in his story, or just impatient for him to be done with it and get out of there, he couldn’t tell.
“When Dad asked me to go on the circuit, he said it was the hardest thing he could imagine a father asking of a son. But we needed the money. Right then and there.”
“I can picture that.”
He took a deep breath, remembering that song on the radio: God closes one door as he opens another. He hoped it was true.
Wolf closed his eyes and rolled back the clock. If only he had danced with her that night so many years ago, there’d be no need for words today. He would have danced with her again, at his beloved sister’s wedding, without a care in the world. He’d have drawn her to him, savored the scent of the bouquet she’d carried. He would have noticed the way her breathing quickened when he held her, remarked on the tears he’d seen in her eyes as Bridget and Mark said their vows. How he longed to hold her now, to have this time with her. It was a new kind of longing, for the Abby who’d be by his side for decades and decades to come. If he played it smart right now, that is.
“I never wanted to leave without an explanation. But there was this big crisis, and in my stupid teenage brain, I wanted to step up and be The Man.”
“I understand why you had to go. But why did it take you six years to tell me the reason why? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“For the first few months, I didn’t have much of a choice. My dad was so proud, so private. And I couldn’t tell anybody except your dad.” He thought to reach for her hand—it was just instinct—but restrained himself. She was listening to him, and he didn’t want to mess that up. “Believe me, I couldn’t have come back here for as much as a weekend, even if I’d wanted to. My schedule was just insane back then.”
Abby exhaled roughly. “What about after that?”
“Well as time went on, it got harder and harder to think about facing you again. Call me a coward.”
“Okay. Coward.” He laughed, but when he looked over at her, she sure wasn’t smiling.
“I cared for you, Abby. So much. But a part of me thought maybe I was doing the best thing for you by staying away.”
“What are you talking about? You have no idea how devastated I was. I was crushed. My whole life changed, in a matter of hours.”
“But look at it from my side for a sec. I was just a kid, and they were grooming me into some kind of rodeo superhero. I didn’t have a second to myself. And yeah, sure, I thought about you all the time. But I couldn’t come clean with you about why I’d left, and I didn’t have any free time to pick up where we’d left off.”
“I want to believe you, Wolf, and I want to forgive you, you must know that. But what about the champagne tasting? As soon as I let my guard down and started to trust you, you let me down again.”
“I’m so sorry about that, I really am.” He paused. He wasn’t just trying come up with the next line that would charm her or win her forgiveness—he was digging for a deeper truth, the kind he rarely admitted even to himself. “I think I need to work on being more honest with you, making sure to tell you what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling, instead of telling you what you want to hear.”
“Like what?”
“Like admitting that I was in that much physical pain, and that the pain wasn’t nearly as bad as the fear that it might mean my competing days could be coming to an end.” He could see he’d reached her, at least a little bit, but it wasn’t about that anymore. “I guess I just wasn’t ready to let you in that close yet, but I want to now. I really do, Abs.”
“I know you want to do your best.” She sounded so weary, so filled with sorrow, and it shamed him to know he’d been the cause of it. “But I need you to actually be your best. I’m just not sure if you’re up to that yet, and I know I can’t put myself through this again.”
He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he always would, but that would be a cheap shot, wouldn’t it? It was the truest thing he could think of, and yet it’d feel like a lie if he said it now. But God, he’d never loved anyone as much.
“I don’t want to put you through it, either. I only want you to be happy, whether…”
“What?”
“Whether it’s with me, or with somebody else.” He couldn’t believe he was saying this—it felt like he was ruining his very last chance with her—but he meant it. “You’re going to make somebody the luckiest guy in the world. I just wish it were me.”
He looked out toward the river, where a lone hawk soared toward the Swan Mountains. He and Abby had grown up in this terrain, the two of them. He couldn’t imagine appreciating its rugged beauty alongside anyone but her.
“Was that really so hard?” Abby asked. “Being honest with me, finally?”
He sidestepped Stella and turned back to look at Abby from the doorway. “No. I suppose it wasn’t.”
“And waiting six years? Was it worth it?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t.” He didn’t know what more to say, but he didn’t want to leave her like this, either. “I do know I’m sorry, though.”
Not waiting for her reply, he walked down the Macreadys’ steps, wondering if he was doing it for the last time.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The clatter of Wolf’s boots down the Macready porch stairs ricocheted across Abby’s heart. It was the one sound she’d hoped never to hear again in her lifetime—Wolf leaving. But it had happened again, just the same. And this time, she’d practically pushed him out.
Once his truck had circled the driveway and gotten onto the main road, she rolled to a standing position from the couch and called Stella to her side. The dog looked at her through half-closed eyes. Had that really just happened? She buried her face in Stella’s ruff and blew gently into one of her ears. But she was unmoved, ducking from her owner’s embrace. Then she took a few dignified steps across the hooked carpet, circled three times, and sat across the room to stare at her owner as if in mortal judgment.
“Forgive him, are you nuts? Don’t you remember how much it hurt me when he left?” She was well aware of how crazy she looked, speechifying yet again to a dog about love, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. “Don’t forget how many nights we spent curled up in bed crying our eyes out. And not one word from him. Even Bridget didn’t know where he’d disappeared to, not at first. We all thought he was in trouble.”
The idea of the rodeo life was tainted for her, and always had been. She could, however, understand Wolf’s need to compete now that she knew it had saved the Olsens from financial disaster. What other skills did a teenager have, after all, other than the ones he’d grown up with? Riding, roping, fixing fences—that was the legacy Jess Olsen had passed on to his boys, and Abby couldn’t deny the practicality of that. But why leave the people you supposedly love behind, spending only a few days a year with them after a lifetime of closeness? And why keep going with the cowboy life when your body was clearly breaking down, and you were running out of reasons to keep going?
“I guess I just don’t understand men,” she confided to Stella. “Specifically, Olsen men.” Stella thumped her tail in response. “Come on, girl, let’s head outside and see Beau. I want to go for a ride.”
Stella reached the center of the pasture before Abby could pull on her boots. The grass was as high as Abby had ever seen this time of summer, but once she’d spotted Beau, the horse followed Stella cheerfully toward the barn.
Beau nosed into the bridle before she could undo the throat latch. “Aren’t we eager today? What—you think the grass is going to taste that much better on the other side of the hill?” With a nod at Stella, Abby trotted toward the gate swiveling around once again as she reached down to slide the latch closed.
Beau jumped sideways, throwing Abby briefly off-balance before she regained her seat and teased him into a canter up the hill. “Be
auregard, you really are full of it today.” She increased the pressure of her legs on his flanks and he leaped into a full gallop, dodging the potholes and volunteer scrub pines that appeared in these driest weeks of the Bigfork summer. Abby felt Stella at the gelding’s heels, heard her panting as she struggled to stay near them, then sensed her drop back.
“What’s gotten into you, buddy?” she asked him, leaning forward as she grasped a fistful of mane. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”
When they reached the top, a summit that yielded the best views of the lake, Beau kept going. In vain, Abby shortened his reins, leaning as far back as she dared over his hindquarters. “Beau, leave it!” she shouted.
But Beau continued on his rampage, scurrying through knee-high bushes, rocks flying in his wake. Abby stopped trying to get him to stop and leaned into Beau’s body to avoid taking a hell of a tumble. Sure enough, Beau rose on his hind legs, his forelegs pummeling the air like a boxer’s fists. Abby held on for dear life, and at last, succeeded in bringing him to a tremulous halt. With the reins in one hand, she slid over his wet flanks and stood by his head, willing him into submission. Stella joined her and the three of them took their time reaching a normal respiration. What the hell was that?
Beau’s chest and neck sprouted half-inch-long welts, the work of wasps and bees whose nests Abby and her dad watched for under the eaves of the barn and destroyed every few days. This time Beau hadn’t escaped. The insects must have given chase up the hill.
With a sigh, she sat down on a rock and began to pet Beau’s nose. The horse whimpered in gratitude while Abby studied his huge golden eyes. They glistened with relief, and something else. Fear. “Trust me,” she whispered to him. “They’re gone, baby. You’re okay.”
Beau continued to look down on her, his face twitching at irregular intervals, his eyes widening as the wind rustled through the branches, a sound he must have mistaken for the buzzing of bees. She’d seen this look before. Just hours before, on Wolf’s face. Hadn’t he looked as exposed, as vulnerable as Beau was now? Wasn’t he just as spooked?
Dances with Wolf Page 17