by Anna Jeffrey
Troy had been accused of being followed by groupies before. He laughed. “Sometimes.”
“Wonder why it’s only sometimes.”
“Don’t know. Guess men think they don’t need the information.”
Louise looked down in a reflective gesture. “Carl used to say some of the dumbest people he ever saw about horses were men. Women are more sensitive.”
“Well, Lou, darlin’, horses are a little bit like women. They’re gentle souls with big hearts.”
She huffed a laugh that held no humor. “Expensive critters, if you ask me. They cost me and Carl a lot of money.”
Troy felt a need to lighten the conversation. “See? Just like women.”
She gave him a challenge-in-her-eye look then turned away. “Anyway, ’preciate you doing this at the last minute. I’m gonna get on over there. Just stopped by to say hey.”
She stopped her trek across the arena and turned back. “I gotta ask, Hollywood. Who’re the two big dudes with you?”
No way could Troy give a short answer to that question, even if he wanted to. “Friends of mine. Don’t pay any attention to them.”
She hesitated. He could tell she had another question, but she turned away and continued across the arena.
“Well, ol’ buddy, this is it,” he said to Batman.
He turned off his phone and secured it in its holder on his belt. He hooked up his wireless mic, pressed his earbud into his ear and walked out to the middle of the arena leading Batman. In the morning sun, the big black stallion shone like a diamond.
“Good morning, ladies and gents! My helper today is Batman.” He touched the horse’s left front leg and Batman made a graceful bow. Laughter arose from the group.
“This week, we’re gonna try to get everything done before the weather moves in on us. We’re gonna start with horsemanship.”
FOR TROY, THE MORNING passed in the usual fashion. Horse owner, horse problem, analysis and recommendations. After showing an owner how to stop confusing her horse to the point where he failed to maintain a steady gait, Troy glanced up and across the arena. One of those big retro cowgirl hats stood out from the group, but he couldn’t clearly see who was under it.
Among the flurry of riders and horses, he hadn’t noticed when she came up though he should have spotted that hat right away. Even at a distance, she looked different from the others. Under the big hat, she looked small. Her hair tied back in a long black ponytail hung past the middle of her back. Off and on, he kept his eye on her and her ass-hugging jeans. He did like to see a woman with a nice ass in tight jeans. By noon, he had observed that she walked with a limp.
At first, he didn’t see her horse either, but after a while he figured out that she had brought a pretty little strawberry roan mare. She never mounted her.
A pickup truck hauling a chuckwagon up the driveway disrupted his thoughts. Dinner!
The owner of the only café in Roundup had arranged with Louise to come out and sell food. The café owner himself hauled out a royal chuckwagon meal—barbecued brisket, beans and potato salad and other barbecue fixin’s and hot coffee and cold drinks.
When everyone broke to eat, Big Hat met with the woman she had come with, a cute blonde. Troy pulled the list of paid participants out of his shirt pocket and reminded himself that the blonde’s name was Tiffany Fisher.
She had brought a scruffy blood bay she called Rudy. Troy had seen enough neglected horses to recognize one instantly. Untrained and unkempt, Rudy might turn out to be his biggest challenge of the whole week.
Since he had already met Rudy and his owner, he walked over to where the two women stood. The one named Tiffany hung onto Rudy’s reins. Troy introduced himself to the one who had caused an uptick in his heartbeat and offered his right hand.
She looked directly at him with too-wise icy blue-green eyes. Those eyes showed a powerful streak of vulnerability and defiance. I know you, that look said. Don’t try to baffle me with bullshit. An odd tremor passed through Troy’s gut and he felt nervous.
“Sarah Karol,” she said, shaking his hand.
He had never felt such a profound connection to a woman and especially not to one he didn’t know. Distracted and at a loss for words, he quickly turned to Tiffany. “Does Rudy have papers?”
The blonde ducked her chin and shook her head.
Big Hat, who had stuffed her hands into the pockets of a bright blue vest, glared at him. “What difference does that make?”
Though she had snapped at him, her voice was soft and low-keyed. Sexy even. He turned in her direction and felt that shakiness again. He mentally scrambled for an answer that made sense. “None. He looks like a strong horse. I thought I might know his bloodline. Since he’s not cut, I thought she might be planning on breeding him.”
Without looking up, the blonde named Tiffany wiped something from her eye. Tears? Was she bawling? Uh-oh, trouble. Shit.
Tears happened sometimes in his clinics and he hated it. He hated seeing women crying, period, but he especially disliked it when something he said was the cause. All he wanted to do was make life easier for some poor horse that lived with a foolish owner.
Many horse owners were women who couldn’t recognize their own problems or stand up to the truth about their relationships with the animals. As for today, he didn’t want to have to save a horse from its human’s personal conflict. He wanted to get this clinic over with and get away from this black-haired vixen who made him so damn nervous.
With Tiffany in tears, he gentled his tone. “Look, all I’m saying is it doesn’t look like anybody’s given him much attention or spent much time training him.”
“Burke was busy,” the blonde said, sniffling. “We—he thought he was already broke.”
Troy’s jaw clenched. Though the word “broke” was common when applied to horses, Troy never used it himself. “Broke? Well, darlin’, I’ll be frank. Sometimes a horse’s problems have nothing to do with the horse. It looks to me like Rudy is a green-broke stud that’s been abused. If you’re not willing to take care of him or too busy to spend the time he needs, you probably ought to get rid of him. You’re not being fair to him or yourself. He outweighs you by eight or nine hundred pounds. Without even meaning to, he could hurt you.”
Tiffany began to cry openly and wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. Big Hat gasped, roasted him with another glare, put her arm around the blonde’s shoulder and urged her away, talking to her in a voice too low for Troy to hear.
Women. He shook his head and stared at the ground for a few beats.
He heard his name and turned toward the voice. The guy who had brought out the food held up a paper plate and motioned him to the chuckwagon. He walked over and took the filled paper plate that was offered to him then ambled to another group, picking up on the conversation about horse gear. He was comfortable in any talk related to horses.
He had just taken a bite of potato salad when on a loud squeal, Rudy busted out. Bucking in an arc high in the air, stirrups and reins flying, he kicked the table holding the coffee pots and cold drinks with his back feet. The blonde cried out. Women screamed and scattered. The table collapsed and everything hit the ground with a crash and clatter.
Before the horse could take off toward a barbed wire fence, Troy dropped his plate and ran in Rudy’s direction.
At the same time, Big Hat stepped in front of the blonde and grabbed the horses’s headstall and the reins. The wound-up stallion reared straight up on his back legs, hooves pawing the air, lifting Big Hat’s feet off the ground.
She lost her grip and fell too close for comfort to Rudy’s hooves. An older man appeared from somewhere, and using brute strength, took control of Rudy and settled him.
By the time Troy reached the horse-wreck, it was over and Big Hat was struggling to get to her feet. He reached for her arm and pulled her up. “You hurt?”
“I gotta go help him!” She broke from his grip and fast-limped toward an old rusted trailer hooked to a faded re
d truck.
Troy followed. He reached the trailer first and opened the gate. The older man tugged and pulled the horse toward the trailer gate. Troy helped him coax Rudy inside. The man latched the gate then turned to Troy, his chest heaving. “Thanks. That horse is a handful.”
The blonde named Tiffany appeared from somewhere. She and Big Hat climbed into the truck with the old man and he drove away.
The episode had happened so fast, Lou’s ranch hand who showed up with a rope missed the show. Besides the mess on the ground, the only sign of the melee left behind was Big Hat’s hat in the torn-up dirt and the image in Troy’s head of her fearlessly standing up to Rudy’s front hooves slashing the air. He could fall in love with a woman with that much guts and gumption.
He walked back to the arena and picked up her hat, dusted it off with his fingertips. Spotting Lou, he handed it to her.
“Oh. That’s Sarah’s hat,” Lou said. “Her husband gave it to her. I ’magine she’d hate to lose it.”
Chapter 4
Shannon Piper Lockhart sat at her desk in her office at Piper Real Estate Company, studying a Web site on her computer monitor. She could barely contain her excitement. She picked up her cell phone and speed-dialed the number of her best friend, Christa.
Christa Johnson worked as a closing officer at Vista Title, one of the two title companies in Camden, Texas. Christa answered on the second burr. “Hey, girlfriend.”
“Hi. How was your weekend?”
“Same old stuff. Spending money, maxing out my credit cards. Getting ready for the holiday. Did you decide when you’re leaving?”
“Saturday morning. The cold front should be out of here by then. A bird hunt is scheduled for Sunday morning. What are you doing right now?”
“You just caught me. I was headed for lunch.”
“Where?”
“SUBWAY.”
“Can you come by my office? I want to show you something.”
“Want me to bring lunch?”
“Sure. I’ll buy. Get a six-inch tuna for me.”
“Right-O. See you soon.”
Shannon had never had a relationship with her own sister as good as the one she had with Christa. They had known each other since kindergarten. Over a span of years, interrupted by various episodes of life, they had put each other back together after broken romances more than once. Well, in Christa’s case, it was broken marriages in addition to romances. They ate lunch together at least once a week.
Less than an hour later, the energetic blonde breezed into Shannon’s office carrying a bulging SUBWAY bag and an additional bag obviously holding two bottles. She began unpacking the lunch on Shannon’s desk.
“Come look at this,” Shannon said. She turned back to the computer monitor behind her and gestured for Christa to come around.
Leaning over Shannon’s shoulder, Christa gazed at a video of a tractor and trailer moving along neat rows of full green plants growing on fences. She squinted at the screen. “What am I looking at? Is that grapes?”
“Uh-huh. That little winery south of Drinkwell.”
“Good Lord, there’s a winery south of Drinkwell? Who knew?”
Shannon laughed. “Obviously not you. It’s been there about fifteen years. San Gabriel’s Fine Wines. I’ve been researching it. They make a dozen different wines. A couple of them are prize-winning. They even have wine-tastings and a small restaurant. It was a bed-and-breakfast at one time. One old guy owns it.”
“You’re listing it?” Christa straightened, returned to their lunch and unscrewed the lids on the two bottles. “I stopped by the health food store and got that caffeine-free tea we like.” She set a bottle on Shannon’s desk blotter.
“It’s already listed with a Realtor in Stephenville. I’m buying it. It’s a Christmas present for Drake.”
Christa’s dark brown eyes widened into a bug-eyed stare. “You. Are. Shitting me. A whole winery?” She propped a hand on her hip. “Cuff links wouldn’t work, huh?”
One of the many things Shannon enjoyed about her friendship with Christa was the woman’s wit.
“There’s a seventy-acre vineyard, too. I presented an offer in September when it first came on the market. Back then, I was thinking about it for Drake’s birthday. The owner turned down the offer. I wasn’t interested in upping the price, so I put it out of my mind. Then, out of the blue, his agent called me this morning and told me the old guy would accept if I still wanted to buy it.”
Shannon rolled her chair back, lifted her purse from her bottom desk drawer and dug inside it for her wallet. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to come with something for Drake besides the usual boring gift. This fills the bill. I already gave him the gold watch to match his wedding ring last Christmas. That’s pretty ordinary and boring, right?” Shannon laid a twenty on the desk blotter to pay Christa for the lunch.
“Oh, yeah. A gold Gucci watch that cost four thousand dollars is ordinary for most of us working stiffs.” Christa pulled a bag of potato chips out of the sack, placed it on the desk blotter and picked up the twenty.
Shannon called back last year when she had bought the watch. Her hand shook when she handed over a black American Express card, holding her breath in fear that some security person would hustle her into a back room and question her. “C’mon. You helped me shop for Drake last year. You know how hard it is to find something he’d like and doesn’t already have. I can’t get him clothing. He has a personal shopper who does that. And I don’t want to buy some expensive gadget he’ll never use.”
Christa looked up, staring into space and blinking. “And he’ll use a winery? He doesn’t even drink much. In fact, scary thought that it is, I think he drinks less than I do.”
“But he likes wine and he knows a lot about it. And he loves land. Sometimes he buys land just for the hell of it. He’s bought two small ranches this year. There’s a half-section of raw land adjacent to the vineyard. The Realtor told me it could be bought. This is something for him to play with. You know what a marketing genius he is. He could put this little business on the map.”
“What’s wrong with it? Why is the one old guy selling it?”
“His agent told me he’s getting old and has no heirs to keep it going. She said he’s sick. He probably needs money.”
“I swear, girlfriend, I’ve never known you to be so daring. Every day the new Shannon amazes me.”
“Hah. Having some spare change makes a difference in a lot of things. The old Shannon couldn’t have bought a winery if her life depended on it.”
Christa carried the lunch sack over to the white wicker sofa across from Shannon’s desk and set her own drink on the side table. She took a seat on the cushion with a bright tropical flower print and pulled her own sandwich from the bag.
“I guess his very own vineyard and winery is the perfect gift for the man who truly has everything. But what happened to the idea that the Lockharts donate to charities instead of giving presents to each other?”
She dipped two fingers into a potato chip bag and came up with a chip. “Which I think is a great idea, by the way. They must already have every material thing anyone could possibly want or need.”
Shannon unwrapped her sandwich. “Or if they don’t, they just go out and buy it. Regardless of their tradition, I’m sure Drake will still give me a Christmas present in private.”
“Probably great jewelry. Like that pendant he gave you when Will was born. Or that gorgeous tennis bracelet he gave you last Christmas.”
The day after Will’s birth, Drake had presented Shannon with a quarter-sized pendant made of a double row of diamonds encircling a molded gold mother and child. Will’s birth date was engraved on the back. Shannon didn’t know if he’d had it made or found it in a jewelry store. Well, amend that thought. She didn’t know if his personal assistant had found it in a jewelry store. Drake had no time for shopping.
“That pendant is blinding,” Christa went on. “And the bracelet ain’t bad either.”
Shannon glanced down at the diamond tennis bracelet on her left wrist—a row of connected gold hearts with a diamond mounted in the center of each. “I know. I wear the bracelet almost every day, but I’ve worn the pendant only once. I’m afraid I’ll get mugged.”
“You’ve got a bodyguard. Isn’t he supposed to keep stuff like that from happening? If you’ve got it, flaunt it, I say.” Christa heaved a sigh. “But if you aren’t going to wear it, I guess you can store it away and look at it as an investment. If you ever find yourself alone and broke again, you can hock it.”
Shannon had already stored it away in a secret safe in Drake’s home office. She would never hock it. No one had ever given her anything so precious and sentimental. She gave Christa a solemn look. “I assure you, I haven’t forgotten what being broke is like. I doubt I’ll ever get over feeling like I’m Cinderella.”
“I know. You probably aren’t even aware that you do it, but you still refer to the Lockharts as they instead of we. You need to learn to be one of those rich bitches, girlfriend.”
“Believe it or not, that’s what Drake tells me. For some reason, I haven’t been able to take ownership of that label.”
“If you were on good terms with your mother-in-law, you could take lessons from her. She apparently knows its true meaning.”
Christa was speaking out-of-turn. She had never met Shannon’s mother-in-law. Shannon glanced up with an arched brow. “Now, now. You’re being snarky again.”
Shannon herself had never met her mother-in-law either. Even now, after she and Drake had been married more than a year and brought the first Lockhart grandchild into the world, neither she nor Drake had a relationship with Betty Lockhart. Will’s paternal grandmother had never seen him in person, although she surely must have seen pictures of him. Shannon’s own mother hadn’t seen him either. Shannon had lost touch with her long ago. Little Will existed on an island without grandmothers.
“Drake and Pic make jokes about all the jewelry Bill Junior has given her,” Shannon said. “They say she has enough gems to start her own store. The Lockhart sons must be following their dad’s example. They’re very generous when it comes to jewelry. But now, with the winery and vineyard, I have something special to give him, too.”