Amber smiled. “Yes, dog.”
Mac swung around, poised to move, but waiting.
Amber sat back and watched. “He wants you to follow him,” she said, although she had no idea where the dog was going. “Follow him, Dee.”
And he did. Mac’s rear end began to swing, his blue eyes wide. Tongue hanging out, ears pricked forward, he crouched and then lunged away. The dog was playing with Dee.
But Dee had never played with a dog before. He seemed confused about what to do.
He was engaged, however. Engaged!
Forget the horses. This dog seemed to be all the therapy Dee needed.
“He wants you to chase him,” Amber said, going to sit in a chair in the opposite corner of the room.
Mac yapped, then darted toward the boy, only to quickly move away again. With a leap that would have done Superman proud, he jumped onto the bed.
Dee giggled.
He’d laughed.
“Oh, no,” Amber said, springing out of the chair as Mac attacked the pillow on the bed. She lunged, but the dog got away from her, pillow in mouth.
“Mac, no!”
Dee giggled again.
Amber paused, turned back to her nephew. “You like that?”
The dog tossed the pillow in the air—or tried. Amber made a grab for it, but Mac snatched it away.
“Mac!”
Dee laughed, a sound so full of delight it brought tears to Amber’s eyes.
“Oh, Dee,” she said softly.
She’d never, ever, heard him laugh or seen him smile like that. Joyfully.
Mac tossed the pillow in the air again. Amber caught the motion out of the corner of her eye. Quick as a cat, she grabbed a corner, laughing herself when she outsmarted the dog.
“Got it.”
Mac didn’t let go, though, and jerked it back. Amber held on, and while Dee continued to laugh, she continued to pull. And then the most miraculous thing of all occurred: Dee reached for the pillow, grabbed a corner.
And actively participated.
Oh, dear Lord.
Amber wanted to sob in joy. Instead, she tugged on the pillow. Mac held on and so did Dee, and Amber laughed until she felt tears roll down her cheeks.
When she heard the sound of ripping, she instantly released the pillow. But not Dee and Mac. Oh, no, the two of them continued with their tug-of-war.
The pillow spewed an eruption of feathers that would have done Vesuvius proud.
“No…!” Bits of down flew everywhere—the bed, the floor, the windowsill to her right.
“Ooop.” Dee held the empty pillowcase in his hands.
“Yes, Dee,” Amber said, on the verge of laughter again. “Oops. Nancy is going to kill us.”
“No,” a masculine voice said. “But she’ll probably make you clean it up.”
Amber wasn’t the least bit embarrassed to see Colt. She was glad he could witness this happy moment.
“Gil told me it was okay to come lend you a hand, since all the kids at the barn are riding right now with their therapy teams.”
“I didn’t do it,” she declared, palms up.
She could see the evidence of contained mirth on his face. Spotted the telltale signs. Knew that he had a hard time fighting laughter.
Mac shook himself, sending feathers flying.
“What in the world?” Nancy cried, standing in the doorway.
Amber giggled.
Dee said, “Dog.”
Mac barked.
And Colt…well, Colt finally gave in. He laughed, too.
Chapter Fifteen
“You know you’re going to need to clean that up,” Nancy said, hands on her hips. She peered at them from Dee’s bedroom door.
Colt wanted to laugh at the nurse’s expression.
“I know,” Amber said.
“We’ll take care of it,” Colt interjected.
He’d come up here under the pretext of lending her a hand, when in reality he’d been curious about which child she’d gone to visit. But he should have known it would be Dee. She was always with Dee.
Her nephew.
He was certain of it. Dee. Rudy. The names were so similar he felt like a fool for not realizing it sooner.
He struggled to mask the grief this realization caused him. Yes, grief. He would have to call Logan. That meant betraying her, and he didn’t want to do that.
He closed his eyes.
She wasn’t a conniving witch. She didn’t hate men. She was a brilliant, beautiful woman who put everyone else’s needs before hers.
“You okay?” Amber asked.
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” He forced himself to look at her.
Dee, her nephew, the little boy Amber cared so much about, was standing next to Mac, his left hand stroking and stroking and stroking Mac’s gray fur.
“We haven’t been able to reach him before this,” she said softly, following Colt’s gaze.
“Why not?” He needed to know about this child she tried so hard to protect from the world. Even from his father.
“He’s severely autistic,” she explained. “He talks on occasion, but only to repeat something he’s heard. Echolalia—that’s what it’s called. A bit of dialogue, something he’s mimicking, but never actually conversing with anyone. Today he called Mac a dog, for the second time. He knew what the word was and used it in the right context. That’s remarkable.”
“So there’s hope,” Colt said. That’s what she was doing here. To find hope for her nephew.
A child Logan wanted to take away from her. A child Logan said had minor social issues. Was his friend consciously misleading him or did he really not understand the extent of his son’s condition?
“As long as he keeps responding,” she said. “I’m hoping once he gets to ride he’ll open up further. Vestibular stimulation has done remarkable things for some autistic children.” She looked back at Dee. “There have been a few cases where the child has been cured.” She tipped her head. “Well, as cured as possible.”
“And if you can cure one child, you might be able to cure others.”
Children like her nephew. Children who didn’t have someone like her to look out for them.
“Yes. This facility is a model for future camps. The foundation that started it invested hundreds of thousands of dollars, all in the hope of proving this can work. So more children can find the help they need.”
“Like Dee,” Colt said.
“Yes, like Dee.”
He would have to talk to Logan, convince him Amber deserved to be involved in Dee’s life. Because no matter what she might have told herself, Logan would soon be out of jail. It seemed incredible to believe. Colt’s friend had been convicted of vehicular manslaughter with gross negligence. He’d been sentenced to six years in prison, which meant he had two more years to serve. But with California prisons as overcrowded as they were, there was a shot—a really good shot—he’d be released early. Colt suspected that’s why Logan was so determined to find his son. And Amber would be blindsided.
Amber. The woman who loved her nephew so much she would change careers for him.
“Do they always do that?” Colt asked.
She didn’t need any explanation. “The stroking? Yes. It’s part of their condition. Mac soothes him. I suspect there’s a connection between special needs children and animals. All animals. I want to introduce Mac to some other kids next. Study what happens.”
Colt wanted her to succeed. He hadn’t come to Camp Cowboy looking for a cause, but he’d found one. He’d have to be inhuman not to be affected by what Amber was trying to do for children.
She was a remarkable woman.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he found himself saying, although maybe he was apologizing for something else.
Her eyes dimmed. It was like watching someone pull down blinds. “That’s okay.”
“I was a jerk.”
“And I was nosy,” she admitted.
She looked so pretty. The sun had d
ipped behind the trees, but light still poured into the room, and into her eyes.
“Friends?” he said.
No. Not friends. He couldn’t be her friend. Not with what he knew.
“Friends.” She smiled.
It was hell, especially when she held out her hand and he took it, knowing that no matter how badly he wanted to keep on holding it, he couldn’t.
He released her. “I better get going.”
“You’ll want to take Mac.”
“No,” he said. “Leave him here. Keep on doing what you’re doing. See if he helps.”
“Will he stay?”
“If I tell him to.”
She startled Colt by stretching on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. “Thanks. I’m going to sit with Dee for a while and see if I can’t coax more words out of him.”
God, she was killing him. Colt knew in that instant that Logan had lied. She wasn’t the horrible person he’d made her out to be.
She wasn’t horrible at all.
HE HAD A HARD TIME sleeping that night. When he woke up in the wee hours, he told himself to get up. He needed to send Logan an email through his cell phone. It was hard to figure out what to say, though.
Dear Logan. I quit.
That was certainly tempting. But Colt knew Logan would just find some other way to locate his son. And if he did that, Colt wouldn’t know about it and then Amber would still be blindsided when Logan came for Dee.
Damn it.
Colt sat at the tiny table in his room, opened up the internet on his cell phone, then loaded his email. He was half hoping there was a message in there. Something from Logan, telling him he was off the hook. Of course, that meant losing out on Logan’s horse. But that was okay.
No letter.
It was up to him to make contact.
Logan, he typed, using the tiny keys.
I’ve located Rudy.
It wouldn’t hurt to tell him that, he thought.
He’s somewhere near Santa Rosa.
That was close enough to Sonoma to be true, yet not an exact location.
But before I tell you exactly where, promise that you won’t cut Amber out of Rudy’s life when you get out of jail. That you’ll continue to let her see him.
He thought hard over what to say next.
I’ve gotten to know Amber. She’s not the evil person you think she is. She has Rudy’s best interests at heart. She loves him. Please don’t break her heart.
And what if Logan rejected his plea?
Colt ran his hands over his face. He honestly didn’t know.
Begging you, Logan. Give her a chance.
He pressed Send before he could change his mind.
How long he sat there, he didn’t know. At some point he crawled into bed. Mac woke him early in the morning by jumping onto the bed and curling up near his feet. Colt tossed and turned from that point on. When he finally got out of bed, he told himself he should be relieved that at least he’d done something to help Amber out.
He wasn’t. If anything, he was even more confused. What would he do if Logan demanded to know where his son was? What if he told Colt to get lost? What if…what if…
Colt got up filled with anxiety. And when he caught sight of Amber walking toward the barn later that morning, her blond hair pulled back, blue jeans hugging her body, he felt dread on top of his anxiety. But maybe she wouldn’t spot him standing inside the stall.
“Mac, stay,” he ordered, because the dog noticed Dee at the entrance to the barn. Colt shook his head. He didn’t know what it was about the boy that drew the dog’s devotion, but it had been love at first sight.
Love.
He could never love a woman like Amber. He went back to tacking up the horses for the day’s riding classes. They were opposites, from two different worlds—his filled with road trips and rodeos, hers with research and self-sacrifice. And then there was his past. Messed up, that’s what he was. He knew it. Had figured out long ago why he avoided relationships like the plague.
He was afraid.
Afraid of losing something else he loved.
“You done?” Buck asked as he left the neighboring stall.
“Yup.” Colt gave a girth one last tug.
“Okay, then. Let’s lead the horses on out. We’ll do the same thing as yesterday. Bring them one at a time, help the therapists get their charges mounted.”
“Got it.”
One at a time.
He should focus on the job at hand. Keep his mind off Amber.
“Hi,” Amber said brightly.
He was in the stall, untying Oreo.
“Hey,” he replied.
“I got Dee down here this morning.”
“Oh, yeah? I’m surprised Mac hasn’t run off to greet him.”
Colt looked down. His dog was facing the door of the barn, his whole body tensed.
“Stay,” Colt ordered.
“We might need Mac if this doesn’t go as planned.”
She was nervous. He could tell by the way her eyes darted over the horse. How she kept glancing back toward the group of people gathering outside.
“Relax,” he said. “If this doesn’t work, I promise to lend a hand.”
His dog had started to whine.
“All right, fine,” Colt said to him. “Go on. Say hello.”
Mac needed no further urging. Like the herding dog he was, he ran full-tilt toward his human friend, to be greeted by Dee’s cry of “Dog.”
“You’re right,” Amber said. “I shouldn’t worry. Things will work themselves out.”
He ached for her.
There was no other way to describe how he felt. He ached with compassion for all she was going through. He also ached for the pressure of her body against his. To hold her. To kiss her.
“Let’s get the show on the road,” Jarrod called.
Colt led Oreo forward. His heart beat faster not just because of Amber, but because he, too, was anxious to see how Dee reacted.
“You better be good,” he told the horse.
The little boy with the sunny smile was busy stroking Mac again.
“Oog,” he said. “Oog, oog, oog.”
His obvious delight caused those around them to smile. And if Mac could talk, Colt had no doubt he’d be saying, “Dee, Dee, Dee,” in a rhythm that matched the beat of his back end.
“Okay, since this is his first time, let’s not give him a chance to balk. Let’s lead the horse right on over to the mounting block,” Jarrod said. “We’ll put him up straight away.”
“Do you think he’s ready?” Amber said. “He’s only ever petted a horse before now.”
“You’ll never know until you try.”
Colt wasn’t so sure, but that might have been more to do with disliking Jarrod than his own instincts. He could read body language pretty well, and he would swear that came from working with horses. Dee was engrossed in Mac, but there was something about the child’s stance that had seemed to change when Oreo was led out of the barn. He might not have glanced at the horse, but he was aware.
“How do we do this?” Amber asked.
“The same way we did the pommel horse,” Jarrod answered.
Colt had watched them last week. Kids had been taught to walk up the wide steps of the mounting block and then get on. Still, this was a whole other ball of wax.
“Lead him on over,” Jarrod said.
Buck stood watching from the entrance of the barn, Colt noticed, the cowboy squinting his rheumy blue eyes. Someone placed a helmet on Dee, though it was obvious he wasn’t happy about it. He kept trying to tug the thing off. Fortunately, Mac distracted him. Before too long they had the child at the wooden steps. He didn’t want to climb those, either, but once again Mac came to the rescue. Colt warily led Oreo up to the mounting block, but Dee had eyes only for Mac. He wasn’t the least bit interested in the horse.
“Okay,” Jarrod said. “Everyone take up your positions.”
Colt had seen this before, too. There w
ould be two therapists on each side. The other four, including Amber, would stand by Dee’s legs—two on each side…if they got him in the saddle.
“Okay, Dee,” Amber coaxed, and Colt marveled that he hadn’t noticed the resemblance before. They had the same profile. “Time to climb on board—just like we practiced on the pommel horse the other day.”
Dee kept stroking the dog, a lock of brown hair covering one eye, the white-and-gray-striped shirt he wore nearly the same color as Mac’s fur.
“Go ahead and get up there next to him,” Jarrod said impatiently.
Amber nodded, climbed the steps of the mounting block and tentatively laid her hands on Dee. Colt knew that was because of the boy’s acute sensitivity. She was careful when she nudged him toward the horse, too.
“Nnnn,” Dee groaned, his eyes still on Mac.
“Come on, kiddo. This’ll be fun. Don’t you want to ride the horse?”
“Nnn,” Dee said.
“Just try for me, okay?”
But Dee would have none of it. Colt watched from in front of Oreo as the child’s body language grew more and more pronounced, all but screaming, Leave me alone.
“Just slip one foot in the stirrup.”
“Amber—” Colt warned.
“No, no,” Jarrod said. “Keep going with him.”
Colt shook his head. The guy might be trained to work with kids and horses, but he didn’t know squat about reading body language.
“I’m not so sure this is a good idea,” Colt said.
“I’m not so sure, either,” Amber agreed.
“Do as I tell you and we won’t have a problem.”
Colt almost walked away. One thing held him there. Amber.
“Okay, Dee,” Amber said softly. “I’m going to grab your hand.”
Colt tensed. Amber reached for the boy.
All hell broke loose.
A sound unlike anything Colt had ever heard before erupted from the child’s mouth. Dee flung himself from the mounting block. The therapists reached for him. Amber cried, “No!”
“Aaaahhhhh!” Dee lifted his head and banged it back down repeatedly, his legs thrashing, arms punching.
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