Between Hope & the Highway (4 page)

“Howdy, Liz.”

I looked up at the trainer. “Hey, Seth.” He’d given me helpful suggestions as I learned the ins and outs of my new position.

“I saw you out on Friday Night Gin. Did she give you any trouble?”

I shrugged. “She balked a few times, but for the most part followed my lead.”

“You have a gift with horses.”

I shook my head.

“I’m dead serious. You might be better than Rawson Law, and that’s saying something, yes, it is.”

I tucked that tidbit of information away to ponder later. In the week since I’d arrived, I had discovered that my boss had two sons I hadn’t met—one in his early teens and an older one in college. Rawson. I only remembered his unique name because it kept surfacing like an apple in a bobbing contest. Each time he was mentioned, it evoked different emotions in the speaker. I’d overheard Mr. Law rail about his irresponsible nature to Abe, the foreman. Larry, on the other hand, bragged like a grandparent when he told me about the guy as we worked. According to him, Rawson had recently graduated
magna cum laude
from Stanford and had been vice-president of his fraternity. Tony, one of the cow hands, made a snide remark about his masculinity when he mentioned how he’d heard Rawson was in Europe modeling for some trendy magazine. Of course, since Tony had also wolf-whistled at me, I didn’t give much credence to his crass insinuation.

“I miss that son of a—”

“Watch your mouth, Baker,” Bill barked. “There’s a lady present.”

I turned to smile at the vet as Chance, one of the younger hands, blushed.

“Sorry, Liz.”

“You were just saying you missed that son of a biscuit, right?”

The other men snickered as Chance elbowed the older hand. “That’s right. I wasn’t going to swear.”

Bill snorted.

I ladled out a bowl of stew. “So why do you miss Rawson Law?” My curiosity was piqued. The information I’d gleaned didn’t paint a picture of a man who’d be missed by these rugged cowboys.

Chance gulped down a bite of stew. “Because he livened things up.”

The table erupted in guffaws, and Mike said, “Remember the time he rewired Abe’s truck so the brake lights activated the horn?”

Rusty hit his leg and hooted. “Abe was madder than a wolverine. Couldn’t figure out what was wrong for the life of him.”

Chance snickered. “Mr. Law knew Roz did it, but couldn’t prove anything.”

“He never could pin nothing on that kid,” Seth chimed in. “Remember when Bart found a load of manure blocking his truck?”

Loud snorts followed. “Yeah,” Mike grinned. “Mr. Law lost a lung telling Rawson to get out there and clean up his sh—” He yelped as Bill whacked him. “I mean
mess
. But he’d been grounded for hanging out with Damon and had an alibi. But Rawson totally did it. Everyone knew it.”

Milt took a break from the kitchen to join us. “That whippersnapper’s too smart for his britches.”

“I’d wager he’s smarter than his old man,” Chance said.

Milt huffed. “Of course, he is. Bart would be first to admit that. But smarts and wisdom ain’t the same, and wise is something Rawson’s not. That boy’s reckless and has never given jack sh—” He winced when Bill elbowed him. The older vet was fast becoming my hero for how he reined in the language for me. Milt gave me a sheepish grin. “What I mean is, Rawson ain’t never cared much about the future. He’s only lived for the moment, drinking and carrying on with that worthless SOB friend of his.”

Bill glared at him, making me laugh. “I can handle acronyms.”

Milt headed back to the kitchen. “That’s the nicest thing I can think to call that loser.”

The others agreed with his assessment of the friend, but by how the younger hands kept discussing other pranks Rawson had pulled, I sensed something akin to hero-worship from them. I’d never understand guys.

After supper, I worked the new gelding in the round pen until well after dark before calling it a night and heading to my cramped room above the garage. As I crossed the pasture, I felt the urge to twirl like Julie Andrews on those green hills in
Sound of Music
. My thoughts turned to the enigmatic Rawson Law, and I considered him crazy for leaving this place. But I wouldn’t hold that against him. If he had returned, I wouldn’t have been hired. And that would have been tragic, because after playing the part of a zombie for the last six months, I felt alive again. Yes, the work was exhausting, but the hours spent with high-pedigreed horses were a dream come true. As soon as I hit my pillow each night, I zonked before I had a chance to recall the nightmare that had altered my path.

I considered that success.

Chapter 5

Bentley

Yesterday I got caught, but getting busted never felt so good. I’d been spying on the new girl. She seemed worthy of a painting, so I watched from afar with my sketchbook in hand, trying to capture her fluid beauty on vellum. I overheard Seth call her Liz, and thought the name fit since she was prettier than a Montana sunset. Liz had performed miracles with the horses that had given Larry grief for months, especially Kodiak Kisses. We’d nicknamed the feisty three-year-old chestnut Kisser because everyone who’d tried to mount him had ended up on theirs.

When I discovered Liz working in the arena, I hobbled over to the bleachers and watched through the slats as she risked her neck with that devil horse. Every evening, she brought him out and talked to him as she led him around on a long rope. He’d snort, paw the ground, and shake his head, but her sweet voice kept him from bolting.

By the end of the week, she had him eating from her hand. Yesterday, when she let the wild cuss loose, I wondered if she might be slightly nuts as I watched the stud gallop and buck like a Tasmanian devil on
Red Bull
. But when she whistled, he trotted over calm as can be. When she grabbed his mane and mounted him bareback, I feared the psycho horse would hurt her. But strangest thing…he only nickered and pawed the ground.

That’s when Liz met my gaze and grinned. In my anxiety for her safety, I’d crawled out from my hiding spot into plain view. Thankfully, she didn’t keep staring, but rested her head on Kisser’s neck and urged him around the arena.

I couldn’t believe it. The wild beast that’d frightened the cooties out of every hand on the ranch had been tamed by a wisp of a girl.

After she returned, she slid off and gave him a sugar cube before turning to me. “What’s your name, squirt?”

I kneaded my neck, thinking she was even prettier up close. Her curly blond hair was pulled back in a poofy ponytail that framed her angelic face.

“Ben…Bentley.” I held my neck as straight as possible, hoping to appear normal.

“Ben Bentley. Hmm? I thought you might be a Law boy. My mistake.”

“I-I-I am a Law boy,” I sputtered. “I’m Bentley Law.”

Her chocolate-brown eyes crinkled at the corners. “Glad to meet you, Bentley.” She held out her hand. “I’m Lizzie.”

When I clasped her delicate fingers, I worried my heart might beat out of my chest. Never had I held a girl’s hand before, but I liked it. A lot. “I watched you with Kisser the last few days. You’re amazing.” I ducked my head, hoping she didn’t think I was stalking her.

“Kisser was a challenge. He took a whole week and I still wonder if he might throw me if I’m not careful. He’s not broken yet.” As she patted his flank, I wondered if she kind of admired the mean stallion.

Caught off guard by her easy manner, I hobbled a few steps. “You’re the first to sit him without being thrown.” Realizing I’d just displayed my handicap, I sank onto the closest bleacher and silently berated myself.

“Can you ride?”

I nodded. “The palomino in the main stable is mine. His name’s Han. My brother trained him for me. I just can’t mount and dismount on my own.”

Her dark brown eyes filled with compassion, but she didn’t dish out pity. “Han? Larry told me his name was Goldie.”

“Goldie Han Solo.”

She laughed, and I ached to hear that adorable sound again. There’d been a famine of joyful emotions in my family since the accident.

“Do you want to ride with me sometime? I’d love the company since I don’t know the area yet.”

“I know this country better than the warts on my foot.”

She let out a barking laugh and slapped the top of her leg, drawing my gaze down the length of her lean body. Hot dang, she was sexy.

“Then you’re exactly the wart-finding partner I need.”

I blushed clear down to my boots.

“How old are you, Bentley?”

“Almost thirteen.”

“So you’re in sixth grade?”

“Fifth.”

“Oh. You’re still in elementary school?”

I dug my boot into the dirt as I nodded, wishing for the millionth time I hadn’t been held back a year.

“Why don’t you ask your dad if it’s okay and we’ll head out after supper,” she suggested.

Upset that she thought I needed permission, I folded my arms. My parents never worried about Rawson when he was my age. He explored the hills and gullies alone when he was only eight. He could shoot then too. But here I was, almost a man at thirteen, and couldn’t do a dang-blasted thing.

I dropped an F-bomb and kicked at the sod. “I ain’t need no damn permission.” I wanted her to think I was grown up, but my words backfired.

“Whether you do or not, I’m telling him. I don’t need trouble with my employer the first month on the job. And if you talk like a crude cowboy around me again, you won’t be welcome.”

I felt her chastisement deeply, even though she smiled.

“I need a break from vulgar cowboys. I thought you looked more refined, and I rather admired that about you.”

I straightened my neck. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Apology accepted. Now go.”

Dad loved the idea, so we went riding for an hour after supper. Even though she was a willowy gal, Liz had no problem lifting me up and down from my horse. She smelled like a field of flowers and her hands, though calloused, felt soft against mine. Since she let me lead, I took her to my favorite spot on the ridge. She gushed over the beautiful view of the river valley, making me grin. Rawson enjoyed riding there too, but he took the scenery for granted. He craved solitude.

We talked, and I found myself telling her about the accident. I confessed how I despised people’s pity. Only my legs and spine were damaged, not my brain; yet kids at school ignored me or talked as if I was hurt in my head. One girl, Regan, who I thought was cute, never looked me in the eye when I tried to speak to her. She searched for a friend and ditched me instead. I told Liz I didn’t think any girls would ever be attracted to a freak show like me.

“You’re not a freak show, Bentley. In fact, you’ll be a lady killer someday. I love your dark hair and blue eyes. It’s such a rare combination.”

I don’t know whether her sweet words or the awesome sunset made my body tingle. For five years, my deformities had bound me, but out there on the ridge as she built me up, I didn’t feel defined by my disabilities.

After we returned, I worked up the courage to knock on Dad’s office. Since Liz had helped me, I wanted to return the favor.

“Yes?” Dad called.

I cracked his door. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, son. What’s on your mind?”

Hobbling over to a leather chair, I said, “It’s about Liz.”

He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head. “What about her?”

“I think she should eat with us, not out with the cowboys.”

One dark eyebrow raised. “Why’s that?”

“Because she has to hate being the only girl eating in a bunkhouse full of crude guys.”

Dad’s expression soured. “Has she said they’re crude?” Without giving me a chance to reply, he pounded his desk. “I told Abe to warn the boys to be on their best behavior. The last thing I need is a sexual harassment suit.”

“No! Liz only says good things.”

“Then why are you here?”

Leave it to Dad to get to the point. No “How was your day, son?” or “What have you painted lately?” or “How’s summer going since your brother didn’t care to come home and do anything with you?” Just a curt “Why are you here?” Sometimes I wondered if my handicap made him uncomfortable. Before the accident, I used to shadow him everywhere. Now he seemed in a hurry to get rid of me.

“Well, uh, I just thought since she’s the only girl, you could make an exception and let her eat with us. Then she’d at least have Mom and Addie for company. I mean, it has to be awkward for her to eat in the bunkhouse since all the guys live and sleep there. How would you like to eat in a house full of strange women? It’d give me indigestion.”

That won me a rare grin. “You’ve made your point, son. Let me sleep on it. I’ll make a decision in the morning.”

“Thanks.”

As I hobbled to the house, I concentrated on moving my left leg smoothly. Recalling Lizzie’s graceful gait helped me focus past the pain. Helping others felt good, and I hadn’t felt good in forever because I’d been so absorbed in me.