Cowgirl Come Home (11 page)

He leaned over the side to reach for the bag he’d strapped to one of the anchor hooks. “Not really. I’m hoping this will work. He’s a bit of a pig.”

“Most teenage boys are.”

She took the bag from him and started toward Skipper, who was pretending to ignore them. “Hey, hey, Skip-ip-per,” she sang. “I want to curry you some day. Hey, hey, Skipper, come see what’s inside this bag. You’ll love it, I know. Mmm…mmm.”

The melody sounded faintly familiar but the words were pure Bailey.

Skipper nibbled a few blades of grass then turned their way, his reddish-brown ears cocked forward.

Bailey jiggled the feedbag, making the oats dance melodically.

Skipper’s nostrils flared. He shook his head, sending his mane aflutter.

“Come here, pretty boy. I’ll whisper sweet nothings in your ear and bring you nasturtiums and blue grama grass if you let me take you home.”

Her tone alone would have won Paul over if he were a horse. Not surprisingly, Skipper took a couple of steps toward them. Then his gaze landed on Paul. His head lifted and his eyes rolled back. If horses could sneer, Skipper would have flipped them off before he hightailed it in the opposite direction.

Paul sighed. “Stupid horse. Good try, though. I’ll call Austen’s foreman and ask him to catch the little bastard.”

He got back behind the wheel and waited.

Instead of joining him, Bailey headed in the opposite direction. “Stay on the ATV, Paul. He wants to come, but he can’t bring himself to give you the satisfaction of caving in.”

“Me? This is a power play with me?”

“You’re the alpha male.”

I am?

As the baby of the family, Paul had pretty much followed everyone else’s lead—except at work. Maybe running the show at Big Z Hardware had rubbed off on his personal life.

His phone hummed in his shirt pocket, letting him know he had a text.

“C + M want to spend weekend w u. Y or N?”

His kids wanted to come home. The answer was a no-brainer.

He typed the letter Y and hit send. Did that make him a pushover? Did he care?
No.
Where his kids were concerned, the only thing that mattered was their happiness.

When he pocketed the phone again, Bailey had her arms around the neck of his unpredictable young horse. Fear plunged through him like an eight-foot wave. He grabbed both handles ready to shoot across the gap between them if necessary.

His heart raced and his mouth felt so dry he could barely swallow.
Please, please, please…
He didn’t have time to complete the prayer because Bailey pivoted on her good heel and started toward him.

To Paul’s complete and utter shock, Skipper followed a polite step or two behind.

He knew better than to cheer so he waited and watched. She rewarded him with an appreciative smile.

“Hand me the halter…slowly…but whatever you do, don’t make eye contact with Skipper.”

“Serio—okay.”

From his peripheral vision, he watched her fit the red nylon halter over Skipper’s ears and fasten it. She petted the horse’s head and neck, lavishing him with praise for being a “smart, brave boy.” Then she clipped the thick braided lead to the metal ring under his chin.

He bites,
Paul was tempted to say, but decided against it.
Maybe he only bites men who bring his feed.

“Okay,” she said. “Tie this off and I think he’ll follow us home without a fuss.”

“How do you know this? Are you the new horse whisperer?”

After securing the rope, he tried to pat Skipper and nearly lost a hunk of forearm for his effort. Disgusted and more than a little frustrated, he started the engine and made a wide circle so they were headed back on the same path.

Skipper trotted jauntily, never taking his eyes off Bailey.

“I think he’s smitten,” Paul said.

“He’s a beautiful animal. Just rough around the edges. Your daughter should work with him every day. Lunging him, walking on a lead, daily grooming.”

“I’m picking her up this afternoon. We’ll stop here on our way home.” He hesitated before asking, “I don’t suppose you…”

She wasn’t touching him at all now. Had she picked up on his earlier reaction? Or had his jest about the horse whisperer irked her?

“I’m going to a meeting of the local crafters’ guild tonight. I’m hoping to convince a couple of members to give jewelry making a try.”

Her business.
Duh.

He’d completely forgotten the reason she’d come to him the other day. She’d needed help looking for a place to set up B. Dazzled Western Bling.

Damn. That wasn’t like him. Jen would have been shocked. “I swear your mother nursed you at her desk in that stinking hardware store so you think it’s home,” his ex-wife said when she told him she wanted a divorce. “Business is all you talk about. All you dream about.”

Not any more, apparently.

Lately, every dream—especially the X-rated ones—starred Bailey Jenkins.

*

OC dialed the
number he hadn’t called in a good month. He pushed the speakerphone button out of habit. A month ago he’d been too weak to even hold the receiver. Thank God, Bailey hadn’t seen him like that.

The line rang four times before a voice said, “Jenkins’s Fish and Game, Marla speaking.”

Lazy bitch. What took you so long to pick up?
“Marla, it’s me. Is Jack around?”

“Hello, OC. Of course, he’s not around. It’s summer in Montana. He’s up in the mountains showing flatlanders where to drop a line. Probably has another three or four hours of daylight.”

He’d never liked talking to Marla. The woman thought two years of junior college made her more intelligent than she was.

“Whatever you’ve got to say to Jack, you can say it to me, OC. I’ll give him the message.”

He bit back the three-word phrase he wanted to say. Although it galled him to no end, he needed Marla’s cooperation to help Bailey.

“You probably heard Bailey’s back in town.”

“Yup.”

“Well, she needs a place where she can set up her jewelry-making business. I figure the back room of the Fish and Game oughta work just fine.”

Her epithet didn’t surprise him. She’d always had a penchant for four-letter words. “I don’t want strangers tramping through here when I’m booking trips.”

“That’s what the patio door is for. You’d never cross paths.”

“I don’t care. My answer is no.”

“It’s still my business. I’ve got a say in how it’s run.”

“Not really.”

Her smug, self-satisfied tone made the hair on the back of OC’s neck stand up.

“Jack’s been keeping the Fish and Game afloat for the past few months, and we’re leaving. New Mexico or Arizona. I haven’t decided which.”

He’d heard that claim before.

“I haven’t taken any new bookings for after August first. You’re welcome to take over if you’re back on your feet…excuse me…
foot
, by then.”

The vitriol in her tone made his skin crawl. “That’s your idea of helping out a friend? Leaving while I’m still flat on my back?”

Marla chortled. “You’re no friend of mine, OC. My husband has a blind spot where you’re concerned. Thinks you hung the freakin’ moon or something. But, you’re a drunk—a mean drunk, who wouldn’t have a business if it weren’t for Jack Sawyer.”

OC didn’t argue with her. Not when there was some truth to her claim. But that didn’t keep him from wishing he had the strength to get out of bed and march into his shop to bodily throw her ass out the door.

Obviously relishing her chance to give OC what she thought he deserved, Marla told him, “Jack’s nearly killed himself with exhaustion trying to be two people. And the whole time he’s carting those flatlander chumps from fishing hole to fishing hole, do you know what he has to listen to? Them complaining because he’s not the Fish Whisperer.

“For some reason, they’re convinced the great and powerful OC Jenkins would have taken them to a special, secret stretch of river. Jack doesn’t complain, but it has to hurt when he walks the same stinkin’ streams as you did. There’s no secret spot, is there, OC?”

The only gift his father ever gave him was the ability to read rivers and streams. OC could
see
where the water cut a little deeper and the big fish liked to hide until he coaxed them to the surface with a specially tied fly.

Not that he’d ever tell her that.
Obnoxious cow.

“Well, hell, Marla, if you’re in such a goddamn hurry to leave, why don’t you get the fuck out of there today? I’ll tell Bailey she can have the whole damn house to set up her business. She can sell jewelry in the front part and make the shit in the back. Sounds like a damn fine idea to me.”

Marla sputtered. “What? You can’t…” She stopped.

Something clattered to the floor. He hoped it wasn’t the overpriced computer she talked him into buying.

A second later, she was back on the line. “Okay, OC, if that’s how you want it, fine. I’ll leave the key on the counter. I don’t know what you’ll tell the people who are booked through August, but I guess that’s not my problem anymore.”

She hung up before he could tell her to take a flying leap. The irritating sound of an open line made him swing at the phone. It shot across the nightstand, along with all stupid doctoring crap people thought he might need: tissues, water bottle, pill bottles, a mystery novel he couldn’t stay focused on long enough to read.

“God damn it all to hell.”

A movement in the doorway made him bite off the more colorful cuss words that were forming in his head. Louise didn’t abide swearing in the library or her house.

“That went well.”

She took her sweet time walking across the room, her gaze never leaving him.

“I always said that woman had a screw loose. Now, it’s popped clean off.”

Louise laughed, but her expression turned serious a moment later. “Marla has been acting a bit strange lately. I attributed it to being overworked.”

Half the time when he’d show up at the shop she was playing some kind of candy game on the computer.

Louise set the phone in place and slowly re-organized the other crap.

When it came to the small amber plastic pill container, she hesitated. “I tried to re-fill this prescription this morning and the clerk said our insurance wouldn’t cover it.”

“God damn stupid bureaucrats.”

“Maybe. Or maybe Marla didn’t pay the company’s health insurance premiums.”

OC didn’t like the ominous tone in her voice. The need for a drink got stronger. “Why wouldn’t she? She and Jack are on the same policy.”

“Are they?”

He didn’t know.

He’d been in a bad way for a couple of months before his first surgery. Fact was he’d gone off the deep end after Bailey’s accident. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about his dead son-in-law. Ross seemed like a cock of the walk—a big talker who expected Bailey to do all the heavy lifting.

Like me and Louise?

“I need a cigarette. Hand me that fake electric thing, will you?”

The device Bailey had given him had fallen off the table, too. Louise had to bend over again. This time when she straightened, she grabbed the edge of the open drawer for balance.

“What’s the matter with you?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t meet his gaze, either.

“I need to call the bank. You haven’t been getting a pay check from the Fish and Game, but Marla’s supposed to be paying the mortgage on the building.”

“And all the utilities, insurance and taxes.”

She pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her loose sweater. As she scrolled around looking for something, she told him, “The other day I saw a special on printer paper. I tried to use the company debit card and it was declined. Forty-six dollars.”

She looked at him, her expression serious. “I meant to call Marla and see if our pin got changed but I forgot.”

He turned on the fake cigarette and put it to his lips. Bailey said it vaporized liquid nicotine so he got his fix. Placebo or not, he didn’t care. Just the act of holding it and taking a drag calmed his nerves and helped him think straight.

Louise punched in the number then held the phone to her ear to wait.

“We have money in savings,” he said. “We’ll be okay.”

Louise shook her head. “Mostly gone. Co-pays, out-of-pocket, food, lights, gas—”

Her list stopped as she listened. “Yes. Hello. This is Louise Jenkins. Can you tell me the balance on our loan? Yes, the Fish and Game. Oh, he’s doing well, thanks. I’ll tell him you asked.”

She smiled at OC, but her expression seemed oddly muted. Something wasn’t right, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with their banking issues.

Her eyes opened wide. “Excuse me? When was the last payment? March? And you’ve had nothing since?”

Holy shit. Marla stopped making the mortgage payment on the Fish and Game? What the hell was she thinking?

As soon as Louise re-pocketed her phone, OC reached for the landline. “Is that dumb bitch trying to screw us out of everything we worked our asses off for all these years? I’m not calling her. I’m calling the police.”

Louise covered his hand with hers. “Marla’s not smart enough to plan our downfall. But she is an opportunist. March is probably the last month you were still going into the office. Before that, you signed off on the books, didn’t you?”