by Jeannie Watt
“Yet they suspended you.”
“I don’t get along with the department head,” she announced candidly, holding Ty’s gaze, daring him to make something of it. “I believe she took the opportunity to try to teach me who wields the power.”
“Have you learned a lesson?” he asked drily.
“Look,” Madeline snapped, “my private affairs are exactly that. I’m here to discuss chores tomorrow.”
“Why do you need to understand the operation if you’re going to sell?” It seemed like a reasonable question to him, but a look of pure frustration crossed her features. “What?”
“I don’t know.”
Funny. He thought she knew everything.
She glanced down at the floor for such a long time that he didn’t think she was going to answer. Finally she lifted her chin, shaking her hair back over her shoulders. “I’m trying to understand what my brother found so fascinating about this lifestyle. I just don’t get it.”
Ty felt a wallop to his midsection and hoped it didn’t show on his face.
“And my grandmother…she’s having issues letting go. I want to know enough about the ranch so I can answer her questions. And maybe my own, as well.”
Oh, shit. No way around this one. He pulled in a breath. “Can you drive a tractor?”
Madeline hesitated only a moment. “Sure.”
“It’ll be cold. Dress warm.”
She smirked. “I’m from the Northeast.”
“And you’re going to be sitting on a metal tractor seat for an hour. Dress warm.”
MADELINE WAS READY TO GO when Ty knocked on her door the next morning, and, frankly, nervous about what the morning might bring. She didn’t want to screw up.
When she opened the door, Ty handed her a bulky cloth bundle.“Put that on. You’ll be warmer when we feed.”
Madeline stared at the heavy brown fabric in her hands. “I’m fine,” she said. She didn’t want to wear Ty’s clothing. It seemed too intimate.
“You’ll freeze your ass off.”
“It’s mine to freeze.”
“You can’t go out in these temperatures wearing a puffy coat with little sissy gloves.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he added, “I don’t want to have to interrupt feeding to bring you back when frostbite starts setting in.”
He turned and walked toward the barn without another word, the dog following at his heels. Madeline closed the door and shook out the coveralls, assessing. Big. Way too big. But she’d make them work. She could still feel the bite of the frigid air from the few minutes the door had stood open, and knew it’d be stupid not to wear the coveralls, which were clean if oil-stained.
When she put them on, the sleeves hung off the ends of her hands, but she was able to push them up far enough to let her fingers see the light of day before she shoved them into the large leather gloves he’d had wrapped inside the rolled coveralls. She zipped the garment to her chin, then stepped into her fleece-lined leather boots.
One quick look in the mirror on the wall behind the built-in bookcase confirmed her suspicions. She did indeed look like the Michelin man’s long-lost twin sister. Screw it.
Madeline set her shoulders and headed for the door.
TY LOOKED UP and then quickly back down when Madeline entered the barn, where the tractor was idling. He tried not to laugh. Truly he did, because he was in a grim mood and had no intention of interacting with her any more than necessary.
“Oh, shut up,” Madeline snapped as she walked toward the tractor. “This wasn’t my idea.”He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, but it had been so long since he’d found humor in anything, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he stood back to let her climb into the driver’s seat.
“What goes around comes around,” she muttered before taking a moment to familiarize herself with the pedals and levers. She looked up at him. “What do I do first?”
His smile disappeared. “I thought you said you could drive a tractor.”
“I can. I just don’t know how to get it moving.”
“You need a driving lesson?” he asked, incredulous.
“I need instruction in what the levers and pedals do. Driving is simply a matter of turning the wheel,” Madeline said in an academic tone. “And I don’t have a bum knee, so I can push in the clutch, unlike someone else I know.”
Ty felt the beginning of a headache. He could push in a clutch if he had to. But it was just going to be a slow, painful process. Not real good for the clutch mechanism, either.
He silently acknowledged he’d been had. But what the hell? If she wanted to learn to drive the tractor, she owned half of it. Why not? It would be nigh impossible for even the worst driver to screw up driving a straight line across a field in low gear.
“That’s the throttle,” he said patiently, pointing to the lever on the column. “You have two pedals to control the wheels…” He explained the operation of the ma chine, the gauges, etc. Not that she needed to know, but because she insisted on knowing. Then he asked her if she was ready to give it a shot.
She nodded and put the engine in gear. Ty stayed standing on the running board in case of emergency, but Madeline, after a jerky start, adeptly maneuvered the tractor out of the barn and with very little direction pulled up next to the haystack, exactly where he needed it to be.
“Not bad, eh?” she asked.
“You’re a natural,” Ty agreed, feeling an odd sensation when she glanced up at him.
“You don’t need to be sarcastic,” she muttered.
“I wasn’t.”
She sent him a sidelong glance. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t exactly comfortable with this side of Madeline. He wasn’t comfortable with any side of Madeline but this side was more disturbing than the annoying know-it-all.
She insisted on helping him load the trailer, and he let her drag bales way too heavy for her because it was easier than trying to stop her. He showed her how to stab the hay hooks into the dried alfalfa, then together they could maneuver the bales into the growing stack on the trailer. He had to admit that having her help was saving his knee.
Once the hay was loaded, he pointed her out into the field, explaining how she was to drive slowly while he cut the bale strings and tossed hay off the side.
The cows were waiting, and mobbed the trailer as she drove through the second gate Ty opened. Alvin snapped and barked, performing his routine with full border-collie enthusiasm. Madeline glanced at him over her shoulder, frowning at the dog’s ferocity. She waited for Ty to climb awkwardly back on the trailer before directing her attention forward again.
Ty had forgotten what it was like not to have to fight the cattle off as he tossed bales. The feeding, which usually took an hour, was done in forty-five minutes. Madeline came to a stop a good twenty yards from the last bale. Ty eased himself off the trailer and walked up to the tractor, where he climbed onto the running board. Alvin stood wide-legged and victorious on his trailer.
“Head back to the barn,” Ty instructed, leaning close so she could hear him over the noise of the motor. “Follow those tracks so we don’t get stuck.” He pointed to the trail of beaten-down snow he always followed. Madeline nodded and gave the throttle a turn. The tractor lurched forward and Ty automatically grabbed the back of her seat as she shifted gears. Madeline shot him a sidelong glance, a spark of exhilaration in her eyes as the engine roared louder and the machine picked up speed. He stared straight ahead, hoping she wouldn’t drive off the track into the fence or anything.
Ty’s fingers were cramped from hanging on by the time Madeline pulled into the barn. She turned off the engine with a show of satisfaction. He pried his fingers loose.
“Uh, thanks for the help,” he said, easing himself to the ground. Alvin jumped off the trailer and stood waiting for phase two of the chores.
“We’re not done yet, are we?”
“We’re done with the tractor, and that’s what you hired on for.”
“Thanks for the help, Maddie.”
She gave him a look, making it clear that for once she wasn’t going to waste her time arguing with him, but that she thought he was a fool.
Maybe he was, but when he was with her, his thoughts about the ranch, the wreck…her…jumbled together. He’d decided yesterday, after she’d rescued him, that the anger that evoked was the worst because it, in turn, fueled more guilt. What right did he have to be angry?
He watched her walk away in those ridiculous coveralls.
What right did he have to find her attractive?
MADELINE HAD FULLY EXPECTED feeding to be a chore she’d have to endure. Cold weather, large unfamiliar animals, a taciturn man who didn’t like having her around. Instead she’d gotten a kick out of driving the tractor. The novelty would undoubtedly wear off within the next few days, but right now she felt satisfied. And cold. Very cold.
She was chilled through by the time she climbed the porch steps to her house. The generator came to life and the lights came on. Madeline turned on the furnace and stood over a vent for a couple minutes before unzipping the coveralls and heading for the bathroom. She cranked on the faucet, then after a few seconds, set the plug and left the bath to fill.She was pulling her arms out of the coveralls when the generator sputtered a couple times and died.
The overhead light went out, warm air ceased to blow out of the furnace vents, and Madeline automatically reached out and turned off the water.
She sat on the edge of the tub and regarded her folded hands. People had lived for centuries without electricity. She was tough. And disciplined. Yes, she was.
The generator came back on without warning. No cough. No chug. The lights came on. The heat started to blow.
Madeline’s shoulders sank in relief, but seconds later the power went off again.
She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Gee,” she said aloud. “I wonder why I want to sell?”
She was sitting, morose and chilled, on the edge of the tub, waiting for a miracle, when Ty knocked on the door. Since the generator was ominously silent, she had a feeling this was not her miracle.
“No power?” she asked, after motioning Ty in and quickly closing the door.
“No fuel. The tank was lower than I thought and the delivery guy didn’t show up yesterday like he was supposed to.”
“So what now?” she asked, trying to put on a brave face.
“I’m going to siphon some out of my tank into yours.”
“Do you need help?”
An odd expression crossed his face before he shook his head.
“How long will it take?”
“Maybe an hour?”
“Can I use your shower?” Surely his house had two bathrooms like hers did. “You won’t even know I’ve been there.” But she wanted to be there. She had itchy particles of hay in her clothing and she was chilled. She wanted a shower.
“Sure.”
She wondered if there was any way he could have made the word sound any less sincere. “I appreciate it.” She grabbed her towel and toiletries and stuffed them into her bathroom tote.
“It’ll take me a while to do this, so you don’t have to hurry.”
“But I will,” she said.
TY WORKED SLOWLY, making sure it took him at least an hour to siphon fuel into containers, carry them to her tank, climb the ladder, which was a slow process anyway because of the knee brace, and pour them in. Plenty of time for her to shower. He didn’t mind, he just didn’t want to be there when she did it. Having her in his house, showering, was too…intimate.
Would he feel that way if Becky Morris, the vet’s new assistant, needed to shower off after a nasty tussle with a cow?Probably not. But he didn’t notice stuff about her that he noticed about Madeline.
AS SHE’D PROMISED, Madeline hurried through her shower, but there was no way she could hurry through drying and ironing her hair, so she pulled it back while it was still wet and secured it in a barrette. Already tendrils were curling around her face.
Her hair drove her insane. She had hated her curls forever, but it was more than that. People didn’t seem to take her seriously when she was both short and curly-headed. Straighten those curls out into silky, well-disciplined strands and voilà, instant respect. Okay, maybe not instant respect, but her hair no longer distracted people. They no longer hid smiles on bad-hair days, which were almost every day when she didn’t use the flatiron.Madeline pulled the barrette out and plugged in her hair dryer. She wanted out of here before Ty came back, but she knew from long experience her hair tamed better damp. She twisted a strand around her finger in weary disgust, then grabbed her brush and started the daily routine.
Madeline left the bathroom twenty minutes later. She’d kept the door cracked open, so she could hear if Ty came in, but the house was still empty when she walked down the hall to the austere living room. Transferring fuel took longer than she had expected and a quick glance out the window explained why. Ty was climbing down a ladder leaned against her fuel tank, carrying a yellow fuel container in one hand.
Oh, that had to be a lot of fun with his damaged knee, brace or no brace. How many trips had he made?
She slipped into her coat and wrapped the scarf around her neck. One of her gloves fell off the counter, and when she stooped down to pick it up, she noticed a collection of colored envelopes in the trash.
Green envelopes, red ones, cream-colored with gold edging.
Christmas cards.
The top one wasn’t even opened. Madeline nudged it with her index finger, feeling guilty for prying, but maybe he’d used a letter opener and… No, it wasn’t slit open. It was sealed, as were the five envelopes below it.
Madeline stood, a frown on her face. This bothered her.
Who threw away Christmas cards? Unopened Christmas cards?
She jumped a mile when the door opened behind her, and she whirled around. She obviously looked guilty, since Ty asked, “What?”
“Are those Christmas cards?” she asked, pointing at the trash.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
“I don’t understand….”
“You don’t need to understand.”
Madeline made a small gesture of frustration. “Ty, if those people took the time—”
“Those people mean well. I appreciate that they took the time to think of me.”
“But you throw the cards away unopened.”
“They’ll never know.”
Madeline was stunned. “That is so cold.” As was his expression.
“I don’t do Christmas, all right? They know that.”
“You don’t do Christmas,” she echoed. “Why?”
“Why the hell do you think?” he asked impatiently.
It took her a second to get it. “The accident?”
“Yeah. The accident.” He didn’t mock her, didn’t speak with one hint of irony in his voice, yet somehow Madeline felt stupid.
“So you boycott Christmas. That makes a lot of sense.”
“You deal with loss your way, I’ll deal with it in mine.”
That wasn’t dealing with loss. It was denial. “Ty—”
“Enough, Madeline.” His expression was so deadly serious that the words she’d been about to say died on her lips.
As he’d said. Enough. “I’m sorry. I dropped a glove and…I honestly wasn’t going through your trash.”
Ty looked past her at the trash can, where the envelopes sat in plain view. Then he nodded.
“I’ll, uh, see you later. Thanks for the shower. And the fuel.”
“Anytime,” he replied, his voice distant.
Ty was trying to hide it, but it was easy to read the discomfort in his expression and the fact that he wanted her gone. Now. She didn’t say another word as she left the house and stepped out into the ultrabrisk air.
She barely felt it.
Ty didn’t celebrate Christmas, because of the accident.
Sh
e’d assumed that he had worked through the painful issues over the past twenty-odd months. As she had. After all, she’d lost a brother, and she’d deal with what had happened. For the most part.
Ty obviously hadn’t. No wonder he had barriers up where she was concerned. She was a living reminder of an incident he had yet to deal with, and the second anniversary of it was rapidly approaching.
Two years had passed and Ty Hopewell was still hurting.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TY WENT TO TOWN that afternoon. He simply got in his truck and left, for the first time since Madeline had arrived. She hoped he got his mail.
A pickup truck loaded with wood showed up shortly after he left. The man tossed the wood onto a tarp he’d spread next to the trailer, chucking one piece after another, and then he left, without payment, before she realized he was gone.Madeline opened the trailer door as the truck drove to the gate, surveying the mound of precious wood. She needed to get a fire going as quickly as possible.
There was an ax in the barn, hanging on the equipment wall. She slipped into her boots and retrieved it, and then awkwardly cut some kindling, glad Ty was off the property for this show. Ax work had never been her forte, and after a trip to the emergency room when she was fourteen to stitch up a sliced shin, her grandmother had strongly suggested that Skip handle the ax from that point on. Madeline had happily agreed, but now wished she’d had more practice. Her kindling was roughly the size of her wrist. She split those pieces again without mishap, breathing a sigh of relief as she returned the tool to the barn with all her fingers intact. She should have cut more, but for now, she was happy not to be traveling to the emergency room.
She dumped the kindling on the floor next to the stove, crumpled up some printer paper and built a fire. Skip may have handled the ax, but Madeline had taken care of the fire in her grandmother’s beast of a stove.
Printer paper didn’t burn well, but after peeling off shreds of wood and coaxing them to a flame along with the paper, she was able to add kindling. It was only after she had the fire going that she thought about bird nests in the stovepipe. But the fire took hold and smoke exited the chimney, exactly as it should.