Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02]

by Home Fires

  Sophie’s shrug was almost audible. It wasn’t until that moment that Emily remembered the phone call she’d taken two days before. The phone call asking if Lin Hartman could come a day early. She closed her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  Casie lowered her gaze to Em’s for a second before lifting it back toward Sophie.

  “Can you take care of Linette, Soph?” she said.

  “I’m already—”

  “Sophie.” Her tone wasn’t sharp, wasn’t demanding, just serious, just strong. “I need your help.”

  “Okay,” she said, and that was the end of it.

  Casie would make a hell of a mother, Emily thought, and burst into tears.

  CHAPTER 9

  Casie took a deep breath before knocking on the bunkhouse door. Emily had branded the word welcome into the rough timber before framing it with a wreath made of dried weeds she’d found down by the creek. The effect was earthy and surprisingly charming, but Casie barely noticed. Her few minutes with Brooks Hedley on the previous night had been painfully revealing, her morning not much better. She’d received two phone calls before noon: one from Cap Emerson, who supplied her hay, one from Dakota Equine. Neither had exemplary news. Although Angel was on the mend and able to return home, the bill was going to be somewhat higher than expected. That little factoid had been delivered just moments before Cap’s message bemoaning the lack of rain and subsequent increase in his fee. And that news had come shortly before Emily’s atypical breakdown. Which meant, once again, that there would be no time for Casie to have the meltdown she’d been waiting so long to enjoy. In which case she’d better get her head in the game, she thought. Planting a smile on her face, she knocked again on the rough-cut timber.

  “Hi.” The woman who opened the door was small and thin. Frail might have been a word used to describe her if she didn’t stand quite so straight. She held a wineglass loosely in one hand.

  “Linette?” Casie asked.

  “Lin. Yes. Hi. You must be Cassandra Carmichael.”

  “Casie,” she said.

  The other woman nodded. Her hair was silvery gray and cropped close to her head in a stylish cap that would have been better suited for Wall Street than the Lazy Windmill. “Or Linny, if you like. You have a beautiful place here.”

  “Oh.” Casie glanced to the right. The heifer fence needed fixing and the alfalfa was past its prime. Basically, the entire ranch was held together with duct tape and baling wire. But the pastures were still green and the oak trees were pretty spectacular, a burnt sienna color that stood out in rustic glory against the lady’s slipper yellow of the aspen behind them. Still, the arena was short one gate and … She stopped herself, remembering to make her guest feel welcome. “Thank you. It’s a pretty time of year.”

  “Yes.” Lin laughed. The sound was low and husky. “I bet it’s as ugly as sin most times.”

  Casie grinned, took a deep breath. “Maybe I take it for granted sometimes.”

  “Really?” The woman glanced around, probably not even seeing the dozens of tasks that needed doing. “What a heinous crime that would be.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Casie said and felt herself relax a little. Emily believed that Casie was uncomfortable around guests because she was uncomfortable with herself. But Emily thought too much. The reason Casie wasn’t comfortable was because there were always a hundred thousand things that needed doing. Having guests added another hundred thousand, but she liked the feel of this woman. There was an honesty to her, a solid earnestness. “Have you settled in okay?”

  “Absolutely. Everything I need. Sophie was very kind. Lugged all my luggage in for me. Answered all my inane questions. Gave me a bottle of wine.” She lifted the glass. “She seems like a nice girl.”

  Sophie? Casie thought, but even though the morning had been less than sublime, she was still coherent enough to catch herself before her skepticism slipped out. “Yes, she’s been a huge help to us here on the Lazy.”

  “Will she be the one giving me riding lessons?”

  Lessons. Casie felt herself tense up again, but managed to refrain from clearing her throat. “About that, I know you said you wanted to get some horseback time in, but you were mainly concerned with relaxing and getting a little fresh air, right?”

  “Well, yes. I like to hike, and I thought I might even do a little bird-watching. But once I saw the horses …” She gazed past Casie toward the pastures and something lit up her eyes. It wasn’t an uncommon thing. There was some inexplicable bond between women and horses. Something indescribable and magical. It grabbed them in adolescence and often didn’t let go until the grave. “Is that little one a grullo?”

  Casie raised her gaze to the east where the geldings grazed, heavy manes splashed over glossy necks. “Blue? Yes, he is. You know your horses.”

  Linette laughed. It was a pleasant sound, low and earthy. “Just through research, I’m afraid. Horses have been an interest of mine for as long as I can remember, but I never had a chance to get to know them. Lately, I’ve had more time to read, though.”

  “I remember reading,” Casie said, displaying more dreaminess that she had intended. The woman laughed again.

  “The ranch keeps you pretty busy, I take it.”

  “I don’t play a lot of checkers,” Casie admitted.

  Linette tilted her head. “Truth is, I’ve had a little too much time on my hands since I retired. Too much time to think, so I decided to do some things for myself.”

  Too much time … It sounded wonderful, Casie thought, but didn’t say as much. “What are you retiring from?”

  “Drudgery. Backbiting.” She shrugged. “Stress.”

  Casie laughed. “Sounds like my old job.”

  “Let me guess,” Linette said, eyeing her up. “I bet you were a top-notch administrative assistant, too.”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t a top-notch anything,” Casie said and let the memories remind her how lucky she was to be here, a hundred thousand chores notwithstanding. The rain-washed air felt soft against her skin. Somewhere just within hearing a meadowlark sang to the sky. “And I think the word is secretary.”

  “Well …” Linette raised her glass. “Here’s to undervalued laborers everywhere. Say, do you have time to join me for a drink?”

  “I’d love to,” Casie said, “but Emily has dinner ready, and believe me, we don’t want to get in front of that train.”

  “Dinner?” She twisted a speckled wrist to check the time. The watch face was framed in understated gold vines and looked as if it might be worth more than the Lazy’s mortgage. Linette Hartman must have been a more valued employee than Casie had been, despite the backbiting to which she’d referred. “It’s not even one o’clock.”

  Casie smiled. “Out here in the sticks, we call lunch dinner and dinner supper.”

  “Oh, okay, I’m all about change these days.”

  “Great. Well, come on up whenever you’re ready. The door’s open anytime.”

  “Thank you,” Linette said. “I’ll be right there.”

  Despite Emily’s recent meltdown, dinner was awesome, though Sophie would have rather stuck a fork in her eye than admit as much. She reached for another fresh-baked roll. It was misshapen, freckled with tiny seeds she couldn’t identify, and phenomenally delicious.

  “So, Sophie, are you in college?” Linette Hartman was several inches shorter than Sophie and even skinnier than Sophie’s mother, but she seemed to enjoy the meal with carnivorous enthusiasm. The fact that she could remain so tiny and eat like a lumberjack would have driven her mother to distraction. Monica Day-Bellaire ate about a teaspoon of imported yogurt a day and not much else.

  “I’m a senior in high school,” Sophie said, realizing she’d been silent longer than etiquette demanded. Thoughts of her mother often made her reticent. The rest of the time they made her crazy.

  “Oh. And are you … I’m sorry. I’ve never been known for my tact so I’ll just ask straight up.” Sh
e glanced about the table. “How are the three of you related?”

  “We’re not,” Sophie said, then lowered her eyes at the harshness of her tone. “I’m just …” What was she? Unnecessary? Unwanted?

  “Sophie’s the equine manager here at the Lazy,” Emily said.

  Sophie glanced at her. Despite the fact that she enjoyed resenting Emily almost as much as she liked hating Ty, she felt an unwanted flush of gratitude wash over her. There were few things she detested more than feeling grateful.

  “Really?” Linette glanced from Sophie to Emily and back. “How do you manage the horses and still find time for school?”

  “I take some of my classes online,” Sophie said and slathered butter onto her roll. Monica Day-Bellaire eschewed shortening of any sort, but Emily had been fiddling with homemade honey-butter recipes. Only an idiot would eschew homemade honey butter, and Sophie liked to think she wasn’t an idiot. A bitch maybe, but not an idiot. “It gives me more time to spend training horses.”

  “You do the training?”

  “Casie and I,” she said.

  “Mostly Soph,” Casie said. “She’s got a gift.”

  Gratitude turned to something warmer. Good God, if she wasn’t careful she was going to become as mushy as Emily, without the hormonal glut to blame it on.

  “Well, that’s great,” Linette said, “because I’m afraid it’s going to take all the gifts you can muster to teach me to ride. I’m not quite as spry as I was a hundred years ago.”

  Sophie reached for another roll.

  “I think it’s great that you’re so independent,” Emily said as she took her seat beside Casie.

  “How do you mean?”

  Em shrugged and took a sip of what she liked to call razza-dazzle tea. It was anyone’s guess what was in it. “You know, most of our guests come with a support system … a friend, mother, daughter. Someone.”

  “It might have been nice bringing Elizabeth.”

  “You have a daughter?” Emily asked. Her tone was a little dreamy. How weird would it be to have another person growing inside you and not even know what gender it was?

  “Well, yes,” Linette said, and glancing down, took a sip of her coffee. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “You’re lucky,” Emily said. “Are you and Elizabeth close?”

  “Quite close.” She fiddled with her fork. The tines were bent. Emily hadn’t gotten around to replacing the cutlery yet, but she probably would soon. She could find a bargain in a hay field. “We’ve spent a great deal of time together.”

  “That’s so great. There’s nothing more important than family,” Emily said.

  Casie watched her intently, as if ascertaining her mood before turning her attention back to their guest. “Maybe you can bring her next time.”

  “She’s pretty busy with her own family.”

  “You have grandchildren?” Emily asked.

  Linette drew a heavy breath as if not entirely comfortable with the conversation. “Well, grandchild, actually.”

  “Then we’re just flattered you could tear yourself away long enough to visit—”

  “Wait a minute,” Sophie said, and, zipping her attention from her second fresh-baked roll, speared Linette with a sharp gaze. “You don’t know how to ride?”

  “Never been on a horse in my life.”

  “But …” True, Sophie had given lessons to newbies before, but they were young, less … breakable, and those lessons had always been given on Angel because she was … well … she was an angel. And Sophie would rather die than admit that to Ty, who acted as if the mare walked on water.

  “But what?” Linette asked, one silver brow raised slightly.

  From her vantage point, Sophie could see Casie clench her fist beneath the table. Sophie pursed her lips and forced herself to remain silent.

  “One of our beginner horses is just now recovering from surgery.”

  One of them? Sophie thought and nearly laughed out loud. Angel was their only beginner horse. The rest were barely even horses.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing too serious, I hope.”

  Sophie felt her gut knot up. The image of Angel, drugged and disoriented, had been bad enough. But the sight of Ty’s haunted eyes as he watched her through the cold steel bars of the equine hospital was a memory she couldn’t seem to shake. The ensuing conversation with her father came in an ugly second.

  “I think she’s going to be all right,” Casie said. Her tone was light, her expression upbeat. Casie Carmichael could make a full amputation sound like a hangnail. “They think she’ll be able to come home today.”

  “They do?” Sophie asked and felt her heart pick up its pace. “Does Ty know? I mean …” She pursed her lips. All eyes were turned toward her. She felt her cheeks flush, but refused to shift her gaze away. “It’s his horse. He should be the one taking care of her.”

  “I’m sure he will once we bring her home,” Casie said.

  “Um, speaking of which,” Emily said. “Is that a diesel engine I hear?”

  Casie turned toward her. “What?”

  “Ty called.” Emily smiled, bright as a sunflower. “Said Colt offered to pick Angel up.”

  “Oh.” For just a second Casie looked like she had bitten into a lemon. Interaction with Colt Dickenson tended to affect her that way. Sophie wasn’t sure why, but hey, sometimes you just had to hate people, no matter how hot they looked in their ratty caps and old blue jeans. “Well, that was very nice of him.”

  “Yeah, in fact, that might be them pulling up right now.”

  “What?” Casie said again. Her upbeat tone had slipped a little.

  “I told him I was sure you’d appreciate the favor,” Emily said.

  “Appreciate the—” Casie began, then cleared her throat and set her fork carefully on the edge of her plate. “Of course. Thanks, Emily. If you’ll excuse me, Linny, I’d better see to the mare.”

  “Sure,” she said. “I think I’ll get some air, too. I ate enough to feed an army. The meal, by the way, was exquisite, Emily. Five stars,” she said, “but I’m afraid I’m not accustomed to such rich food anymore. Maybe I’d better walk it off before it settles in for good.”

  “Oh,” Casie said, finding her usual conviviality. “Of course. Feel free to roam anywhere on the ranch,” she said, and though she rose smoothly from her chair, her journey toward the door could only be called stalking. Sophie followed. Casie’s disjointed relationship with Colt made her feel almost normal by comparison.

  It took them all a second to pull on their footwear. Linette was quicker, simply shoving her feet into a pair of low-heeled sandals, and then they were out the door.

  By the time they reached the barn, Ty was already swinging open the back door of the Dickensons’ long aluminum trailer. His stupid-ass cap, frayed almost beyond recognition, was pulled low over his eyes, but Sophie could see the stubborn slant of his jaw and, below that, the sharp jut of his shoulders. He had practically no hips and his legs went on forever, but it was his hands that put her stomach in freefall. His damned hands. They were always dirty, his nails ragged, his knuckles scuffed, but as he led Angel from the trailer, he caressed her neck. And it was that touch, as gentle as a lullaby, that got her. It was so tender, so ultimately caring, as if he could protect her from the world with that one careful hand.

  “Soph?” Casie said. Sophie jumped, realizing she’d missed something.

  “What?” She tried not to look guilty. Geez, she had nothing to feel guilty about.

  “I was wondering if you’d mind cleaning Angel’s stall.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks felt warm again. Maybe she was getting sick. She didn’t have time to get sick. “I already did that.”

  “You did?”

  “Just because he’s slacking off, doesn’t mean we all can.”

  Casie raised a brow at her.

  Sophie lowered her eyes. “I’ll get her some fresh water,” she said and scurried away.

  Casie watched her g
o. Holy Hannah, she thought, if this place got any more flooded with female pissiness she was going to change the name of the farm to Estrogen Hills or something. As for herself, she took a deep breath and lifted her lips into a smile as Ty turned toward her.

  “How’s she doing?” she asked.

  The boy’s face was as solemn as a dirge, but there was a guarded meld of hope and worry in his eyes.

  “Okay, I think. She seems pretty stiff.”

  Casie nodded, doing her best to ignore Dickenson as he rounded the trailer carrying a lead rope. “She’s been through a lot. We’ll have to be really careful with her.”

  “The doc left a catheter in her neck and sent along the IV bag just in case. Said we should give her more fluids if she don’t drink enough. And she’s gotta be confined for eight weeks.”

  “In the stall?”

  “I guess,” Ty said and steadied the mare as a half dozen horses ran up to the fence to see her. Blue reared, mane flying. Tangles stretched his neck over the wire and snorted a greeting. Angel shuffled sideways, excited by their attention. “Easy now,” he said, then to Casie, “She ain’t going to like to be holed up like that.”

  “No,” Casie agreed.

  “They said to hand walk her five to six times a day,” Colt said, striding up beside them. She’d been ignoring him until this moment. That couldn’t go on forever, but what was she supposed to do? Pretend she didn’t know his secret? Pretend it was perfectly fine to abandon his own child, to leave the baby’s mother to her own defenses? She felt her stomach twist.

  “I didn’t know she was ready to come home,” Casie said, “or I would have picked her up myself.”

  He shrugged. “I was in the area.”

  “In the area of Rapid City … with your dad’s stock trailer?”

  He grinned as Ty let Angel wander away a little, nosing the grass. “Now don’t go getting all riled up, Case.”

  “I’m not riled up.”

  “I’m not trying to buy the boy’s affections or anything.”

  “Buy the boy’s—”

  He leaned closer, lowered his voice, and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Couldn’t do it anyway. Kid thinks you’re Beyoncé and Taylor Swift all rolled into one. Sexiest thing to ever rock a pair of cowboy boots.”