I resigned myself to the knowledge he’d done a background check. Whether before or since Malcolm hired me was the question.
“You’re damn close to off the grid for someone who has nothing to hide.”
I took a deep breath, let it out loudly, but I was only mildly annoyed. “I don’t have anything to hide.” Sometimes, I wished I did. Sometimes, I wish I had what others called assets, besides my truck and trailer.
“You have a checking account, that’s something. But you have only four-hundred eighty-three dollars and thirty-five cents to your name.”
There was no point in denial. It was true. That was all the money I had. “Yep. Pitiful.” But I had Noire and Cali. Critter rich, cash poor.
“You don’t feel sorry for yourself.”
“Only sometimes. But you didn’t learn that from looking at my bank account.”
Dex reined in Ciqala. She tossed her head in protest, then made the most of the moment by tearing at the leaves on a branch next to her head. He gave me a clear-eyed look of assessment. “No. I learned that from watching you.” He patted his mare’s neck. “That’s how you get the important stuff.”
I nodded, having no argument or comeback, wishing I had his abilities, and rode on. I’d have better luck choosing jobs if I were a better judge of people. Malcolm was the first boss I’d had in a long time who appeared to be a genuine straight arrow. And Penny had found this position for me. It sucked in every other way, though, so that made us even.
When he trotted Ciqala forward, I asked, “What is the important stuff?”
“You haven’t opened a checking account here. You’re still using the one at a bank on Long Island.”
“That’s the important stuff?”
“You plan on staying, or not?”
It was my turn to pull up. We were in that pretty area under the river birch. Malcolm’s favorite spot on the farm. I looked around me, maybe seeing some of what Malcolm had been picturing in his mind when he stared out the tack-room window the other night.
But what business was it of Dex? My annoyance level ratcheted up a notch. I hadn’t promised not to smart off to the boarders. “Don’t you know?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“What would you guess from watching me? Is that the important stuff you were talking about?”
“Partly.”
“Why do you care?”
He took a moment to study the trees and the creek and Noire bounding through the water, pouncing on some unsuspecting frog or crayfish.
“I love him like a brother.”
Jesus. What was it about this spot that encouraged men to reveal intimate details? Did I need to know this? I’d hoped to get through the week without any more slaps upside the head.
A bluebird caught my eye, a flash of azure against a light-skinned tree. It flitted to a twig, then flew out of sight.
Dex booted Ciqala into my line of vision. “He’s been good to me. He’s a good man. Too trusting maybe, and too high a boiling point to suit me, but that’s why I watch his back.”
“When did he ask you to check up on me? Did you warn not to hire me, like with Norman?”
“He didn’t. I did it on my own as soon as I got your name from him. And no. I told him he should hire you, but he’d already decided.”
Hunh. “So, what did you tell him?”
“Nothing to tell he didn’t already know from your cousin.”
I urged Honey forward, across the creek and along the trail on the other side. Dex came up next to me, quiet for the moment, letting me absorb that last piece of information. Noire trotted after us, then spotted a squirrel and rushed into the underbrush. The squirrel scurried up a broad trunk, along a branch, soared to another tree, and kept going.
That Malcolm was a good man was not news to me. I’d already figured that one out for myself. Now, I knew he had devoted friends, too. Loyalty, I understood. And honesty was something I valued.
“You don’t want him to get hurt,” I said.
“Now you’re reading my mind.”
I smiled at him, and he gave me a helpless shrug.
“Busted,” I said. “How about a canter?”
He didn’t wait, just kicked Ciqala into gallop. True to her quarter-horse breeding, she sped out like a sports car, zero-to-sixty in two strides. Honey barely reacted. I had to slap her neck with the reins to get a response, and that was the rocking-chair canter I’d expected, nothing more. She slowed to walk long before we caught up with Dex, who was waiting at the next turn, grinning.
“Sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t fair. I forgot who you were riding.”
We fell into step next to each other again. “Do you usually play fair?”
“Depends on who I’m playing with,” he said with a drawl.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He turned serious, his coffee-colored eyes soft. “You can count on fairness and honesty from me, Miss Parker. You’ve earned at least that much.”
“Likewise,” I said. “And just for the record, I’m staying.” Crap. Now I’d done it. I’d said it out loud.
“Because you have to.”
“Because I want to.”
We talked little more. Yet, half an hour later when we rode into the stable yard, I understood we had tacitly agreed to be honest and trust one another, and to help Malcolm. We untacked, and walked the horses down the drive together to give them a few minutes to cool before putting them in the pasture. If they drank a belly full of water when they were hot, they’d colic.
“What are you doing tonight?” Dex asked. “It’s Friday.”
“Oh, big doings,” I said. “I’m going to dinner and the symphony with your rival in Dexterness.”
“Oh ho! So he beat me to the punch, the little rascal.”
“You were going to invite me to the symphony?”
“Heck no. Baseball game.”
I admit I wasn’t really listening. I wanted to ask him about Dex Two, but when I hesitated, he said, “Don’t you like baseball?”
“Oh, no, I mean, well, I’m not a huge sports fan, but I don’t mind going to a game once in a while.” I considered not pursuing what I wanted to know, but curiosity got the better of me. “Is the other Dex—”
“Gay?”
“How’d you know that’s what I was going to ask?”
“That’s what everyone wants to know.”
We turned the horses at the bottom of the drive and headed back toward the barn. Honey rubbed her itchy head against my shoulder. I had to stop and brace myself so she didn’t knock me over.
“You don’t know?” I asked.
“I don’t think he knows.”
“You mean he’s bisexual.”
Dex unbuckled his helmet, slid it off, and wiped his gloved hand over the top of his head. “I mean he’s asexual—doesn’t know whether he’s interested at all. Building his law firm’s all he thinks about. Becoming a judge.”
“He said his partner was out of town.”
“Smoke screen. Now me, on the other hand—”
“I wasn’t asking about you.”
He put his free hand over his heart. “You cut me to the quick, Miss Parker.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was I feel pretty sure…”
“Have no doubt, my dear.”
He waggled his eyebrows and gave my chest a lustful leer that left no doubt whatsoever.
- 19 -
Toward the end of the symphony, right as the chorale reached a crescendo, I fell asleep on Dex Two’s shoulder. My curfew is ten p.m., and that’s pushing it after the kind of week I’d had. The need to get away from the farm had outweighed common sense. As if that were a rare occurrence.
Dinner had been delicious and Humphrey J. Dexter the Third, Esquire, the perfect gentleman. Despite his alleged lack of preference, he’d beamed a wide-eyed look of appreciation from my head to my pump-clad toes and back again when I walked into the restaurant. He’d stood and kisse
d the back of my hand, held my chair for me, told me how beautiful I looked.
He wore an elegantly tailored navy-blue suit and smelled like spicy aftershave. I’d worn my only little black dress, a simple, sleeveless crepe number with flattering princess seams. It felt good to dress up, wear a little makeup, and twist my hair into the only ’do I could do—a simple chignon.
My mother had showed me how to pin up my hair during one of their rare visits stateside. She said it was required knowledge for ladies. I’d resisted, preferring ponytails and hats, knowing, even at age eight, that I was not a lady, not like her, anyway. She’d insisted, and made me practice until I got it right. It’s the only thing she ever taught me.
Before we took our seats, I had a bottle of water, and Dex Two had a glass of champagne. We stood in the opulent lobby of the symphony hall while he introduced me to everyone he knew, which seemed to be everyone. Most of the conversation centered on land conservation. He was a member or on the board of several local and national nature, river, or prairie conservancy organizations, trusts, or foundations. The names all ran into each other after the first few.
I listened and nodded a lot. I agreed with conserving land, but had never done anything about it. If I helped Malcolm keep the farm, that would be a start. The thought made me feel more grown up than I had in some time.
Now, I faced the drive to Winterlight armed with a Venti black coffee from Starbucks, the symphony’s bass notes still thrumming my blood.
Keeping my eyes open all the way was tough. I stuck my head out the window, turned the radio up, and gulped caffeine. I talked to myself and finally pulled in at nearly midnight, needing to pee like the proverbial racehorse.
I rushed to the nearest unoccupied stall, shimmied my panties and hose to my knees, squatted, and relieved myself. I didn’t know many women in the horse business who hadn’t learned to empty their bladders quickly and efficiently in horse trailers, stalls, or woods. Usually, however, I wasn’t wearing high heels. They sank into the deep bedding. The moment I tried to stand and pull myself together, I toppled over backwards, getting straw up my skirt.
The horse next to me snorted in surprise when I swore quietly and scrambled to my knees. In the moonlight slicing through the stall window, I picked the worst of the straw from the most sensitive areas, hastily pulled up my panties, and my skirt down. Even in the private darkness of a deserted barn, I didn’t like leaving myself exposed for too long.
Noire wiggled through the nearly-closed stall door, sniffed me, and wagged her tail. She didn’t bark when I pulled up; she knew the sound of our truck, and I could tell she’d been asleep. She yawned but followed me to retrieve my purse, then perked up when she saw I had a doggie bag.
“It’s not for you, sweetie. You don’t like chicken curry, remember?”
She looked like she’d reconsider if I would just give her the to-go box. I flipped on a couple of lights and looked in on each horse. A few needed water, so I began to top off buckets, pulling down my hair as I went. I held the hairpins between my teeth and shook my head.
When I moved from one stall to the next, Noire growled the low menacing sound reserved for whatever she considered a true threat. We were not alone in the barn. I froze and listened, but someone was already behind me.
He grabbed me, one arm pinning my arms at my sides, the other over my mouth. The hose spun free, spraying us both with water, and I think I swallowed a hairpin.
He dragged me across the aisle and smashed me against the opposite wall. It knocked the wind out of me. I flailed with my hands, but couldn’t get a grip on anything.
“Nice show back there, Slick,” JJ hissed in my ear. “I want more of that.”
Noire barked and snarled at his shin, and I tried to stomp one of my sharp heels onto his instep, but he kept moving, pulling me toward an empty stall. Freaking pumps. Why couldn’t I be in jeans and boots? He kicked Noire in the ribs. She yelped and backed off for a second, then started in again.
“Call her off or I’ll kill her, you hear me?”
I tried to jab him with my elbows, but he held me tight as a vise.
He kicked Noire again. “Now.” He released my mouth.
“It’s okay baby,” I sputtered, spitting hairpins.
She latched onto JJ’s pants leg. He punted her away. She came back. She was a dumb and persistent Lab, and although I’d never seen her tested, I knew she wouldn’t give up while I was in danger. Unless she was dead.
“Let me put her in the tack room.” That wouldn’t shut her up, but it would keep her from tearing his leg off.
He lifted me off the floor, carried me to the tack-room door and opened it without loosening his grip.
“Come on, girl. Good girl.” My voice was tight with fear, and she looked from me to JJ, unsure. “Just let me grab her collar.”
He bent me over, let loose one of my arms. She started to snap at me, stopped herself. I forced her through the opening. JJ slammed the door, pinned my arm again and kept me in the awkward pose.
“Alone at last,” he said slowly. “Speaking of dogs, I like this position.” He humped his hips against.
Noire dug at the inside of the door, whimpered, barked. I tried to see where the nearest pitchfork was. Right where it as supposed to be—hanging with the rest of the utensils a few feet away. Might as well have been a mile.
JJ’s hot breath fanned my neck. He reeked of cigarettes and alcohol. “Hope you like this position. When I saw you on your knees with your panties around your ankles, I knew this was the first way we would do it.”
He thrust his fingers into my hair, grabbed a fistful. “Nice outfit. I liked watching you take your hair down.”
He carried me to a stall, slid the door open. My heart pounded in my chest, in my throat. I couldn’t move, except for my legs, could barely breathe.
“No!” I forced out. I lifted from the waist and twisted, got one arm free, and bashed the back of my fist into his face.
“Bitch!” He dropped me, but only for a moment. Like a python, he struck out and caught the front of my dress, hauling me to my feet. Blood trickled from his nose.
“I warned you,” he said. “You should’ve taken me up on my offer of a change of scene.” His open palm sent me reeling to the back of the stall. I landed face down, ears wringing, out of breath again.
“That’s where you belong.”
I got my hands under me, then my legs up, started to turn over, but he pounced, braced his forearm across my neck, and forced me down with his chest. He shoved my dress up. His dirty fingers found my waistband, jerked. I thrashed, but he was bigger and stronger.
“Knock it off, Slick, or this will hurt even more.”
He leaned into the arm across my neck, mashing my face almost to the cold floor. I tried to yell, for all the good it would do me. Maybe Malcolm would hear. I flung straw, rocked back and forth, tried to dislodge him.
“No,” I said again. “No, no, no.”
With his weight on my back, and my mouth crunched into the ground, I couldn’t breathe, let alone scream. He laughed, the bastard, shifting into position. The bitter realization he’d done this before thumped through me. I was not going to escape. There was a roaring in my ears I was grateful for. I wouldn’t hear the satisfied grunts he was sure to make.
Then he lifted off me, slammed into the wall, and slid to the floor, limp as a dust rag. I scrambled around and swung blindly, hitting only air. Someone else’s hands banged JJ’s head against the wall, yanked him to his feet, punched him in the gut, and threw him on the floor. I pushed to my feet and collided with Malcolm. He stood over JJ in a half crouch, hands balled into tight fists, but JJ wasn’t moving. He was breathing, but he was out.
- 20 -
I slumped to the floor and pushed a shaking hand against my lips. Then, I was in Malcolm’s arms, and he carried me into the tack room. Noire frantically checked me over, sniffed at him, and ran to JJ’s prone form.
Malcolm hesitated at the love seat, as
if he might set me down, but I clung to him with all I had, so he took me to the phone, keeping a protective arm around me
He dialed 911, explained what he needed, and gave the address. Noire barked. He pushed me behind him, tucking my fingertips into his back pocket, but I was frozen, couldn’t force my legs to do more, and I couldn’t make myself go anywhere near JJ. Malcolm circled my waist with one arm and picked up a shotgun with the other. We moved across the floor without a sound.
JJ was up on all fours, his head hanging down, with Noire barking at him like he was a loose cow.
“Don’t even think about it,” Malcolm said in a voice that reminded me of that low growl Noire made when she noticed JJ sneaking up on me.
Malcolm racked a shell into the chamber one-handed and shouldered the weapon. I snapped my fingers near my thigh, and for once, the dog heeled.
JJ collapsed into the straw, holding his head, groaning. Malcolm kept the gun on him; I closed my eyes, tried to control the shaking, and stayed glued to his side. Noire sat next to me.
The roar I’d heard, the one I thought came from inside me, had been Malcolm. He’d reached that boiling point Dex One mentioned.
Two sheriff’s cars rolled in—no flashing lights or sirens—just as Malcolm requested. No need to rouse the entire county. That was good. I didn’t need anyone’s prying eyes or well-meant sympathy, not for this. I’d have to face them soon enough.
As soon as a deputy had JJ cuffed, Malcolm phoned Dex One. He asked him to come down and run interference in case any of the curious souls who heard dispatch on their scanners decided to see for themselves what was going on.
I remained in the protective corral of Malcolm’s arm, unwilling to leave his warmth. But I couldn’t stop shaking. “He lives that close?” I asked. This felt like safe conversation. The other deputy would be in soon to question me. I wanted to put that off as long as possible. And I wanted it over with.
“Close enough. He was already on his way.”
Candace Carrabus - Dreamhorse 01 - On the Buckle Page 14