Country Roads (11 page)

“No, I’m flattered. I’ve caught the town’s most eligible bachelor in my snare.”

“Not the
most
eligible. That would be Rodney Loudermilk. He owns the Rhododendron Bank.”

“In that case, I’ll drop you like a hot potato as soon as I have Rodney in my clutches.”

“I have more hair than he does, though.”

She smiled and smoothed the sleeve of her new blouse, admiring the feel of the green-and-gold-patterned silk. The blouse was a little too fancy for a visit to the stables, but she’d wanted to try out her new clothes on Paul. “You have some great stores in Sanctuary. I had a wonderful time shopping.”

She’d enjoyed just strolling in and out of the medley of distinctive small shops. Some were old-fashioned, with a layer of dust on out-of-the-way shelves that held carved coal animals and hokey hillbilly postcards with yellowed edges. Others showed careful restoration of oak woodwork and freshly painted tin ceilings. Their shelves displayed vivid handmade quilts and artistically labeled local honey. The rich scents of fresh coffee and warm muffins had lured her into the Bean and Biscuit for a quick treat.

“We were voted Coolest Small Town in the USA last year.” His voice rang with civic spirit. “Is that pretty blouse from here?”

Julia felt a glow of smug satisfaction. “Bought it this morning.” In fact, she had maxed out her credit card to purchase it, since she had already loaded herself up with shopping bags. She
tended to do most of her shopping online, so trying things on was a heady experience.

“Let me guess.” He did a quick assessment with narrowed eyes. “Annie B’s?”

“You’re good.”

“My mother used to work at the store.”

“Your mother lives in Sanctuary?”

“Not anymore. She moved out to Ohio to live with her sister.” He spoke with a slight edge that puzzled her. “She’s unusual that way. Most folks come to Sanctuary and never leave.”

“You make it sound like an episode of
The Twilight Zone
.” She deepened her voice to imitate Rod Serling’s portentous tone. “Mr. and Mrs. Smith didn’t just stop for a home-cooked meal. They stopped for the rest of their lives…in Sanc-tu-ar-y.”

He tossed a look in her direction. “Since you’ve asked me to be your legal advisor, I think we should talk about your uncle.”

The change of subject was abrupt; she’d touched a nerve. She sighed. “I bought him a gift this morning.”

“That’s generous of you, all things considered.”

“I still love him as an uncle, even if he’s messing with my career. He collects antique weapons, and I saw a Civil War–era sword in a store window.”

He coughed and laughed at the same time. “Don’t forget to wrap a penny up with it, and have him give it right back to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t know the symbolism of a blade as a gift? It means you want to sever the relationship. Unless you exchange money along with it so it becomes a purchase.”

“So you don’t think I should give him the sword right now?”

“I think I’d like to see his face.”

She started to smile. “You know, I would too.”

“Back to business. If you confront your uncle, do you think he will tell you the truth?”

“That’s a good question.” She fiddled with the silver band she wore on her little finger. She thought so, but events might have proved her wrong.

“Would you know if he was lying to you?”

Julia turned to stare at the blur of trees passing by her window. “No, because it seems like he’s been lying to me all this time, and I didn’t know it. He told me no one would buy my work, when it turns out he wasn’t even offering it for sale. Even if he thought it was for the good of my career, he lied to me.”

His hand covered the white-knuckled knot of her fingers in her lap. “We all want to trust the people we love. It’s a terrible thing when they betray that trust.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze and returned his to the steering wheel.

“He nearly destroyed me.” Her voice was ragged. “If someone who loves me would do this to me, it feels like there’s no one I can trust.”

“You can trust me.”

The declaration was so simple. She knew it was almost as absurd as Mrs. Bostic having her and Paul marching down the aisle after one day’s acquaintance, yet she believed him. Then she realized what he meant. “You’re talking about that lawyer-client confidentiality thing.”

“No, I mean you can trust me as one human being to another.”

She swallowed a couple of times. “That helps.”

“We’re here,” he said, aiming the car between two handsome brick pillars with wrought-iron lamps atop them. On one pillar, a white sign with simple green block letters read “Healing Springs Stables.”

“Sharon’s a world-class equestrian,” Paul said. “People send their horses from all over to train here. Which is why we keep her whole whisper horse idea sort of quiet.”

“Horse whispering is considered perfectly legitimate nowadays,” Julia pointed out.

“Yes, but this whispering goes from horse to human.” They rumbled up a gravel road between immaculately painted white fences. On either side rolling fields were dotted with grazing horses. He neatly slotted the ’Vette in between a green pickup truck and a silver Mercedes SUV. Julia got out, taking with her the recently purchased tote bag containing her sketchpad and pencils. She’d also brought a point-and-shoot camera to capture colors.

And the colors were spectacular. Redbrick barns with bright-white trim. All the varied greens and blues of row after row of mountain ranges receding into the distance. The gloss of horses’ coats in every shade from dapple-gray to darkest bay. Even the stable hands contributed to the display, sporting multihued T-shirts that cheered on the WVU Mountaineers or announced the West Virginia State Fair was “bigger and better.”

Taking it all in, her fingers twitched with impatience as she followed Paul into the dimness of one of the barns. It felt good to be back with her favorite subjects, like coming home.

“Hey, Taggart, out of my way! You wouldn’t want any of this on that pretty suit of yours,” a stable hand with a blonde ponytail ribbed as she pushed a wheelbarrow of manure past them. “Sharon’s in the office, if that’s who you’re looking for.”

“Thanks, Lynnie. Good to see you!” Paul said in his smooth ex-mayoral way.

The young woman paused. “Hey, did Eric get his horsemanship badge?”

Every angle in Paul’s face seemed to soften as a grin of pride spread across it. “He sure did get that badge, thanks to you. He was the youngest scout in his pack to earn it. In fact, they had to make a special exception to give it to him because he’s only ten.”

“I’ve never seen a kid so determined to do everything on that list of requirements as fast as he could.” Lynnie gave the wheelbarrow a nudge to set it in motion again. “He’s something.”

“That’s Eric, all right. When he gets an idea in his head, he’s unstoppable.” Paul’s grin remained as he led Julia toward the other end of the wide corridor between the stalls.

“Who’s Eric?”

“My nephew.”

This facet of Paul was unexpected. He seemed so much the urbane man-about-town; she couldn’t picture him enjoying an “unstoppable” ten-year-old boy. Yet his expression said he adored the kid. “I didn’t know you had a nephew.”

“He’s my brother’s son.” His smile vanished, and she wondered what she’d said to wipe it away. “Here we are,” Paul said, pushing open a door and waving her through. “Sharon, meet Julia Castillo, your favorite horse painter.”

Julia hesitated a moment, feeling shy. Paul gave her an encouraging smile. She stuck her head in to find a red-haired woman sitting with her booted feet propped up on her desk, drinking a diet soda. As Julia came in, Sharon brought her boots down to the floor and stood up, saying, “Well, I’ll be. Claire’s artist is right here in Sanctuary. Real nice to meet you.”

She held out her hand, but Julia was staring, wide-eyed. Sharon looked like a flame-haired Amazon warrior princess. Every inch of six feet, she was solid muscle from the biceps swelling under her polo shirt’s sleeves to the cut of her thighs under the snug riding breeches.

Paul gave Julia’s elbow a little nudge, making her start and hold out her hand.

Sharon gripped it enthusiastically, saying, “You sure know how to make a horse look like a horse.”

Unease speared through Julia. “You may not like my new paintings, then.”

“If Claire likes ’em, I figure they’re darn good. Have a seat.” Sharon sat back down in her desk chair as Paul and Julia took the two wooden chairs across from her. “So you want to use some of my horses as models?”

“I’d love to,” Julia said, “but I also want to meet Blake the farrier. I like his sculptures.”

“Oh, so you want to talk artist-to-artist like.” The horsewoman consulted a computer sitting on the desk. “He’s due here on Tuesday.”

“Oh no, I wasn’t planning to stay that long.”

“You look mighty sad about that. Let me show you around to cheer you up. You can draw anything you want to.” Once again Sharon straightened to her full, impressive height.

Paul stood too. “Can I join the tour?”

Julia cast an uncertain glance at his business attire. She’d assumed he would introduce her to Sharon and leave. “Don’t you need to get back to work?”

“It’s my lunch hour,” he said.

The mention of lunch made Julia’s stomach rumble and reminded her she hadn’t eaten anything since grabbing a homemade corn muffin at the inn’s breakfast buffet. Carlos believed a regular meal schedule reduced the chance of seizures, so at home she ate like clockwork to avoid his fussing. In the headiness of her newfound freedom, she’d cast that off. She crossed her arms over her waist, but the stable was noisy enough that no one noticed the gurgling.

Sharon kept up a running commentary as she led them through one barn, out to the paddocks, and back into another barn. The stable hands all greeted Paul by name.

“No wonder you got elected mayor. You know everyone!” Julia said.

“I kissed a lot of babies too.” He gave her hair a teasing little tug that sent shivers of pleasure waltzing down her spine.

She was so caught up in the deliciousness of the sensation that she paid no attention to the black horse with its head thrust over the stall door. A blur of motion made her turn her head, just as the horse bared its teeth and lunged for her arm. Paul’s hand went from her hair to her shoulder in a split second as he clamped her hard against his side and yanked her out of range of the snapping jaws.

“Now who the hell forgot to shut Darkside’s cage?” Sharon exclaimed, dodging the vicious teeth as she shoved the horse’s head back inside the stall and swung a barred half door closed over the opening. “I’m sorry he nearly tore a strip off your hide. He is the orneriest SOB I have ever met.”

Julia stared at the horse through the bars. This was the dark, menacing creature she had been painting over and over again. Excitement shivered through her. “He’s my Night Mare,” she whispered, trying to make out the black shape in the shadows of his stall.

“He’s everybody’s nightmare,” Sharon said. “Except he’s not a mare. He’s a stud.”

Paul turned her around and took her wrist, pushing up her sleeve so he could check her arm.

The brush of his long fingers over her racing pulse distracted her from the horse. “I’m fine,” she said. “He missed me, thanks to you.”

“You’re wrong about that.” His expression was rueful as he pulled out the fabric by her elbow and showed her a sharp-edged hole.

“Wow, I didn’t even feel a pull on it.”

“He’s young, and his teeth are still sharp,” Sharon said. “The cage shouldn’t have been left open, so I owe you a new shirt.”

“No, no, of course you don’t. It’s my own fault. I’ve been around horses enough to know I should always be alert.”

She had a hard time focusing on anything other than Paul, as he held on to her wrist, absently stroking his fingers across the fragile skin on its underside. She looked up to see him frowning in the direction of Darkside’s stall. “You rescued me again,” she said. “I’m downright pathetic.”

His attention came back to her. “I’d call you dangerous.”

“Really?” She felt oddly gratified.

He shook his head. “It wasn’t meant as a compliment.”

Paul released her wrist and swung into step beside her, putting himself between her and the stall doors. She gave him a look that said she knew what he was doing but she wasn’t going to object for the time being.

“Well, that’s everything except the foaling shed, and it’s empty right now,” Sharon said as they reached the opposite end of the barn.

Paul glanced at his watch and turned to Julia. “I have to head back to work. You’ve got the town taxi’s number?”

“I’ll drop her off,” Sharon volunteered. “There are some errands I need to do in town.”

“Do you think you can keep her out of trouble?” he asked.

“Probably not, but, if need be, we can get Dr. Tim to fix her up. I’m pretty sure he’d agree to work on a horse painter, even though she’s human.”

“All right, but as her lawyer, I should warn you she’s very litigious.”

“She can sue me for every penny I have because that amounts to about a nickel,” Sharon said. “You don’t get rich in the horse business.”

Paul leaned down to give Julia a quick peck on the cheek. “Watch yourself.” He strode out into the sunlight while Julia cupped her palm over the place his lips had touched her skin.

“That Paul,” Sharon said. “He’s a pip.”

“He told me Claire has a whisper horse here.” Julia jogged to keep up with Sharon’s long-legged pace. “Could I meet her?”

“Sure, her stall’s right across from Darkside’s. I was hoping some of her calm might rub off on him.” Sharon walked back down the barn’s center corridor. Darkside’s cage was closed, but opposite his door a beautiful bay horse with a black mane poked her head over the door labeled “Willow.”

“When she arrived Willow was skin and bones and could barely hold up her head,” Sharon said, feeding the horse a carrot. “Now she looks like the Thoroughbred she is. I even use her to start off little kids with riding. They see her and all their fear just evaporates. When you think she’d be dead if two people hadn’t spent a lot of love on her…” Sharon shook her head.