Tina popped into the tack room.
“Super Tina to the rescue,” the girl chimed, oblivious to the uncomfortable discussion she was interrupting. “Cole said you were gonna try to muck stalls in a two thousand dollar suit and shoes that probably cost half as much.”
Angela took the backpack that Tina held out to her. “Shows how much he knows. I had no intention of mucking stalls at all. And the shoes weren’t that expensive.”
“Still,” Tina said as she hoisted a saddle off its hook, “I’d love it if I could borrow them sometime, so borrow my sneakers and don’t ruin yours, okay?”
Angela lifted the bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be changing in the locker room if anyone needs me. Thanks, Tina.”
“No problem.”
Angela nodded to Reed. His gaze held hers for a moment before he broke away and turned to help Tina. “You training on Moonstar?” Angela heard him ask the girl, his voice already fading away as Angela walked in the opposite direction.
Tina responded with an excited “oh yeah” and Angela heard the old man’s laughter before she turned completely out of earshot.
****
Her triceps hurt. So did her shoulders, biceps, quads and hamstrings. And her butt and inner thigh muscles still hadn’t recovered from the ride on Dixie. Apparently, working with horses required muscles different from those she used for yoga. Angela looked down the row of stalls she had just cleaned. Jeremy was already hosing down those on the far end. By Friday they’d all be messy again and the work would start anew.
That thought was just too much to bear. Angela groaned and leaned against the stable guard. She would be hungry if she wasn’t so disgusted after handling all that horse crap for the last two hours.
Her hair was a mess, she stunk, and she felt silly wearing the clothes Tina had brought her. The low-rise, jewel-studded jeans and form-fitting T-shirt were not exactly her style. Add the aching muscles to the mix, and Angela felt like an old woman pretending to be young.
She stepped out of the stall and removed the thigh-high rubber boots and elbow length gloves, grateful to be rid of the bulk. With the air now able to reach her legs and arms, she also felt about ten degrees cooler and the strain of her muscles eased a bit.
She left the boots, gloves and mucking tools on the floor beside the last stall she had cleaned, per the instructions left to her by one of the hands, who had balked at the idea that Angela should wash her own boots. She had been more than willing to oblige and let someone else do it, but as she walked out of the stables she wondered if she should have insisted on doing it herself. She supposed they all thought of her as incapable. She couldn’t blame them, given how she had dressed for work that day.
The ache in her shoulders reminded her that being humbled was a heavy burden to bear.
Partially expecting Henry to come out of his old office as she walked past it, she wondered if he would find great joy in the fact that all her efforts to run had brought her right back to where she had begun. He would think it was a punishment she deserved. As Angela walked into the central arena, toward the sound of trotting hooves, she wondered if he would be right in thinking it.
Cole stood on the outside of the ring as Tina practiced the barrels on Moonstar. She wasn’t as fast as the seasoned barrel racers, but she had excellent form.
“What do you think?” Cole asked. “She looks good, doesn’t she?”
“She looks great. How long has she been training?”
“Couple of months.”
Tina came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the ring. The cloud of dirt that had been trailing behind her settled to the ground. Cole jumped the rail and jogged out to her.
“That last turn was too wide,” he told Tina, resting a hand on Moonstar’s neck. “Don’t be afraid of clipping the barrel. You won’t. You’re not even close to it.”
Tina nodded and smiled, looking down at Cole as if he could rope a raging bull and solve all of the world’s problems in one single breath.
Angela had once looked at Cole’s father that way.
She thought of Doug Jordan, and of Reed Sanders; the men who had been more of a father to her than her own. She had left them behind without a single backwards glance. One of them was dead, and the other filled with pain.
However she tried to fit in now, fifteen years was a long time to stay away. She was the one on the outside of the ring, wearing clothes that did not belong to her.
****
Her flowers were wilting. What else should she expect from a garden she’d planted on a whim?
She crouched and lifted a finger beneath a frail blue petal. When Maisy had given her the flowers, Angela hadn’t considered the maintenance it would require. Now she was stuck with her garden and she refused to let it die.
She lifted the pitcher over the flowers and winced when the dying plants crumbled beneath the thick stream of water. Deciding she would need to find a proper watering can, she leaned down to shake off excess water from some of the leaves.
A tiny plant stuck out from the soil, struggling to break through the dirt. The larger plants protected it. Angela swallowed the urge to cry and turned from the garden.
She walked to her car and drove to the gym, wondering if there was hope for her little garden, after all.
****
The Maple Street Gym was not as sophisticated as her gym in New York. A glass wall separated the yoga room from the rest of the space, the fluorescent lights obnoxiously bright. Trying to keep an open mind, she unrolled her mat and sat down. Others filed into the class. Angela ignored them, closing her eyes against the glare of the lights.
“Angie Donnelly, is that you?”
Angela opened her eyes and looked up. A brunette beamed down with a toothy grin and bright blue eyes.
“Sophie?”
“I can’t believe it’s you! I hardly recognized you!” Sophie Alexander, her childhood classmate, sat on Angela’s mat. She took both of Angela’s hands and squeezed tightly. “What are you doing back here?”
“I’m working at my father’s rodeo arena for the summer,” Angela explained cautiously. She and Sophie had been never been friends. They had hardly been acquaintances.
Sophie frowned. “It was hard on all of us when you left. We felt terrible. You should know that Henry never lived another decent day in this town. He was hated until the day he died.”
“And you?” Angela asked, turning the topic. “Do you still live in Grace or are you visiting, too?”
“Still live here.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Hard to break out when you don’t have anywhere else to go. Speaking of which, I heard you moved to New York. Do you still live there? What’s it like? What are the men like?”
“Different,” Angela said, thinking of the contrasts between Jeffery and Cole.
“Thought so.”
“It was nice to see you, Sophie,” Angela offered, hoping Sophie would take the hint and retreat.
“You too! Oh, where are you staying? We should have lunch and catch up.”
“I’m staying at Starhorn Ranch. It’s not like that,” she added quickly when Sophie’s eyes shot wide open. “Cole and I are working together. I’m staying in his guest house.”
“Uh-huh.” Sophie giggled and squeezed Angela’s arm. “Now we really must have lunch so you can fill me in. Let’s chat after class!”
“Oh,” Angela fumbled for the words, “I may not have time. I’ll be leaving as soon as class is over. I have a ton of errands to run.”
“Okay.” Sophie nodded, understanding and hurt filling her big blue eyes. “I’ll call you sometime, then.”
“Sure.”
Sophie was already walking away. Angela had never had a true girlfriend. She didn’t understand the bond between females and she would never know why some women found joy in gossip and chatting endlessly about nothing in particular. Still, she felt like a jerk.
Ignoring the nagging tug of guilt, Angela closed her eyes again and focused on her breathing, the hum of voices fill
ing the room as the other women rolled out their mats. The gentle tune of flutes and violins began to play. The voices quieted.
“Alright everyone, welcome to yoga. We are going to begin today in a comfortable seated position with our eyes closed. Focus on bringing the breath into the lower part of your lungs and then let it out slowly.”
Recognizing the voice, Angela snapped her gaze to the front of the room. Sophie faced the class. When she noticed Angela looking at her, she winked and smiled.
Ten
Dixie flew over the road and into the wind. Angela smiled, barely feeling the jarring of horse’s hooves or the hard saddle beneath her. It was just she and Dixie now, moving together.
With some regret she ordered Dixie to slow to a walk as the road wound into town. It was not unusual for ranchers to ride into town on horses, but it was still a sight for the tourists. As Angela walked Dixie in the bike lane beside Main Street, a little girl stopped eating her ice cream and squealed in delight.
“Look Mommy! A real horse!”
Angela waved to mother and daughter.
The light turned green and Angela walked the horse
through the intersection, looking up at the men hanging a sign between the lampposts to announce the upcoming Fourth of July Fair. It was hard to believe an entire month had passed since she left New York and came back to Grace. She dismounted Dixie and tied her to the post outside the local hay and feed dealer.
“Ah, Angie!” Ralph met her at the open overhead bay doors and gestured to the men behind him as they loaded a pickup with hay. “You didn’t come to hassle us, did you?”
“You promised the oats and hay would be delivered yesterday, Ralph.” Angela pulled their contract out of her jeans pocket and slapped it at his chest. Ralph had not changed a bit since his days of running the football for the high school varsity team.
“I said I’d try.” He raised his hands in desperation. “We’re busy here this time of year.”
“Funny, I don’t remember reading anything in the contract about trying.” She took the contract that he handed back to her unread, and then followed him through the warehouse. Bales of hay were stacked ten feet high, forklifts beeping as they moved bales from the staging area to the loading dock.
“You can’t be back here,” Ralph told her.
She ignored him and followed him into his office. Cole had insisted they keep the same vendors, but if she couldn’t get a break on the price she at least expected them to deliver on what they promised.
“I can get a truck out there first thing tomorrow morning,” Ralph said after flipping through a date book.
“We have horses and bulls coming on freight in a matter of hours for tonight’s rodeo. You have one hour.”
“That’s impossible,” he complained.
“An hour.” She gave him one last pointed look before turning on her heel and striding out of the warehouse and back to her horse.
Frustration claimed her as she set her hands atop the saddle and put her foot in the stirrup. She looked over Dixie’s back and saw Maisy struggling with a large package. Angela quickly retied the horse and hurried across the street to help the old woman. The package she took from her was so heavy that Angela nearly fell backwards.
“What’s in here?” Angela asked, impressed that the tiny woman had been able to lift it.
“It’s my new tea cups,” Maisy explained, “oh, they are lovely! Wait until you see them!”
Angela nodded and walked through the door to Maisy’s shop, setting them on the cocktail table in the center of the store. Jim Markey came out of the back room to greet them. Angela smiled, remembering what Cole had said about him being baptized in his boxer shorts.
“What are you doing?” Jim asked Maisy, and then kissed her loudly. “You old bird! Don’t you realize you ain’t a spring chicken no more! Them boxes are heavy.”
Maisy guffawed and slapped his shoulder. “You might have helped me,” she teased.
“You didn’t give me chance now, did ya?”
“I didn’t want to wait. And Angie was nice enough to help me.” Maisy moved to the package and quickly pulled off the packing tape, reaching in to grab two of the little tea cups. She gave them to Angela to hold, and then dove back into the box to pull out one of the matching saucers.
Angela examined the pretty painted design of wisteria vines winding along the side of the cup and over the gold trim. “Pretty,” she said.
Maisy beamed.
“Well, they better be pretty enough for the money this crazy lady spent on them.” Jim hugged his wife to his side to soften the scolding. “But she’s worth it.”
Maisy looked up at her husband appreciatively and kissed him gently.
Angela watched them, saddened. It was silly to miss something she never had in the first place. Feeling absurd for being jealous of an old married couple, she politely refused Maisy’s offer to join them for tea, and excused herself.
“How are the dahlias doing?” Maisy asked as Angela gave her a quick hug goodbye.
Angela winced. Her garden had gone from wilted to looking as if it had been frozen in tundra and then crushed beneath a two-ton tractor. Reading Angela’s expression, Maisy smiled and reached into her purse.
“Here,” she said, handing Angela a clipped piece of newsprint paper, “that’s a coupon for some fertilizer at the nursery. It’s the best they have, and I’m sure it’ll do the trick. I thought of you when I saw it.”
Angela smiled at the thought of this small old lady clipping coupons on a Sunday afternoon and thinking of her friends. “Thank you,” she said, not trusting her voice to say anything else.
As Angela mounted Dixie and headed out of town, she wondered about the love of friends. A spot in her belly hollowed out.
****
Cole sipped his soda and listened to Reed go on excitedly about one of the bulls that would be arriving later that afternoon.
“I’m not so sure these circuit boys can handle Devil’s Ticket.” Cole held up a hand to thwart the old man’s enthusiasm. They both leaned back on the stands in the deserted arena.
“Nah, they’ll be fine. Especially if Chad or Shawn pulls the tag,” Reed said.
“Chad’s just a stupid kid with a big ego. He’s bound to get hurt pretty bad. I guess it’ll serve him right to get crushed a time or two,” Cole said, pondering. “Shawn might actually have a shot at making it to eight on Devil.”
Reed nodded in agreement. “Eight seconds is a long time when you’re on a bull.”
“Or a bronco,” Cole said dryly, flexing the muscles beneath his cast.
“Well, I’m off,” Reed announced, “got a date with a filly.”
Cole chuckled. “Hope you mean a lady, and not my horse.”
“Unfortunately, your horses are all I got these days. Dakota’s gonna try the walker today…” Reed’s voice trailed off as he focused on the something across the arena. His old face curved into a roguish smile.
Cole followed the direction of his gaze and saw Angie walking in with a wave and a smile. She veered around the ring, knowing better than to tread across the freshly raked dirt.
“Pretty, ain’t she?” Reed asked, watching her jog toward them.
“Yeah,” Cole said uneasily. “She’s real pretty.”
“You ever have regrets?” Reed asked.
“Try not to,” Cole said.
“If you keep on keeping your distance from that one, I reckon you’ll have a regret or two.”
Angie had reached them by now. She lifted herself over the railing and into the stands, not bothering with the stairs. “Afternoon, gentlemen. Did I miss the meeting? You both look so serious.”
“I gotta go,” Reed said with a sly smile. “See ya, Cole. Angie.”
Angie frowned as Reed tipped his hat and walked away. “Is everything alright?” she asked Cole.
“All’s fine, far as I know.”
She sighed and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
Th
ey’d gotten good at avoiding each other. And when they weren’t staying out of each other’s way, they were pulling off a farce. Angie knew how to put up a front.
Even now she was going on about the hay and oats delivery. Cole drowned out her voice and took a swig of his drink.
She had taken on her tasks with honor and gusto. He didn’t understand how she did it, but it was what she needed to do. Angie had something to prove to herself as much as she was driven to outsmart her dead father. He figured that’s what made her muck stalls as gracefully as she balanced the books.
Something changed in her. Acceptance of the three months she would spend in Grace had, at some point, turned to determination. Perhaps that point had been reached on the night she cried on the guest house porch, when she had told him about memories that wouldn’t stay buried, and those that refused to be remembered. Or maybe the turning point had been the night he kissed her. He still couldn’t find it in himself to regret that, even considering how it had turned out.
He hadn’t talked to her about any of it. He kept his distance, as she wanted him to. But that space was getting harder to keep.
“The Cowhide Boots account is giving me issues. They haven’t decided whether they want to sponsor the pro rodeo,” Angie continued as Cole tuned back in. “If we don’t get a headlining sponsor, the event will need to be cancelled and we’ll have to give back all the entry fees that we’ve already spent.”
He stepped toward her. “Stop it, Ang.”
She lowered her brow. “I beg your pardon?”
“Aren’t you getting sick of playing nice?” His heart beat faster than it had any right to.
She backed against the railing and reached behind to grab hold of it. “You don’t want to play nice. Would you rather I yell? What shall we fight about?”
“I want you to stop pretending everything is okay.”
“But everything is-” She cut herself off and let go of the railing, the pretenses dropping as she stepped toward him. “Look, things have been awkward. Can’t we just forget about that kiss?”
“Forget it?”
“I haveto.”
“You have to?” He scratched his head. “No one can make you do anything, Angie.”
Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy #1) Page 10