Heat Wave (Riders Up) (19 page)

Absently, Ed
stroked Maggie’s arm as he responded to her question. “When I was ten, my dad
took me along on one of his sales trips. He took me to the old Arlington Park
track. I was bitten hard by the bug. I dreamed a lot about horses, about being
a jockey, about owning them. But those were a kid’s dreams. Until I got pushed
out of Iowa.”

“Out of adversity
comes the light.”

“Maybe. Anyway,
when I got to Chicago, I hooked up with a trainer. I started as a groom and
worked my way up.” Ed shrugged. “End of story.”

“Women?”

Chuckling, Ed winked
at his inquisitor. “Are we going to leave any stone unturned?”

“No.”

“Sure, there were
women,” he admitted, idly pushing back a strand of Maggie’s hair. “Plenty of
them. Too many, I guess. But none serious. Being dumped once was one too many
times.”

“Ah. Are you afraid
I’ll tire of you and dump you?” Maggie asked, her voice dropping half an
octave.

Ed thought long
before replying. He’d hoped he’d shared enough so she would realize there was
no lasting future for them. Maybe she’d have enough sense to back off. Common
sense when it came to her and him seemed to only come from one direction—his.

“I don’t know about
that,” he said cautiously. “But you and I are very different. You’re rooted in
the soil; I’m a rolling stone. And that’s the way I like it.”

“I appreciate your
honesty, Ed.”

Ed watched her
debate the wisdom of taking him on about their difference.

“What about the
Travers?” she asked. “Where do they fit? Was Cassie one of those women you
chased around with?”

“Hardly.” Ed
chuckled softly. “She didn’t want to have anything to do with me beyond
swapping information between trainers. I was in my carefree stage when I met
her. Too much beer, too cocky, and too footloose. Besides, she was in the
middle of a cross country affair with Clint shortly after I met her. He had a
ranch and raised thoroughbreds in Utah. He’s part Ute. I didn’t like him at all
at first. But turns out he’s really a solid fellow. They’re madly in love—still.
Renews one’s faith in marriage, a bit.”

“Oh.” Maggie
swallowed hard.

“Yes. They’re both
good people and deserve each other. I’m pleased for them and they’ve become
good friends. Turns out they stick by you when most friends dash for cover if
things start to turn sour,” he went on bitterly.

“I’m sorry. You
know I won’t dash for cover when the going gets tough,” Maggie asserted, her
eyes glistening.

Ed nodded. “I know.
You’re a tigress masquerading as a sexy female of the human species,” he
muttered, cupping her chin. “Now, why don’t you get off my bed before I do
something I might regret later on?

- o -

The corner of
Maggie’s mouth turned up. She heard the emotion contained in his words and saw
the tent forming in the sheet between his legs. He was in no shape for romance.
She stood. She’d learned a lot, perhaps more than Ed realized. There was much
to think about.

She still trusted
her bones and her heart; this was her man. She understood more about why he ran
when things seemed to be at their best. Funny, in him she had a man who tried
to escape her love, but would return to protect her from danger. He might run
far, far away at the first whiff of personal success, yet he’d do all he could
so she wouldn’t fail.

He was definitely
worth waiting for. She was beginning to think she had more patience than a cat
staring at a dormant mouse hole.

As if he could read
her mind and didn’t want her to hold onto a single illusion, Ed said, “Don’t
get that faraway look of yours, Maggie. I’m just going to hole up here and heal
some. Then we’ll find out what’s really going on here about your land. And then
I’ll be moving on.”

Maggie clenched her
fists at her sides. Was she furious, or was she beyond such a mundane feeling? Dazed,
she picked up the dishes and started to leave.

“You’ve known all
along that I’m the drifting type,” Ed said to her back.

Maggie ignored his
strained words. She struggled to keep her balance in her rush down the stairs. Getting
away from Ed Harrington was her most important objective of the moment. If she
didn’t place some distance between him and her, he might wind up dead. And she
had no desire to see the inside of a prison.

Later that
afternoon Maggie was on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. Her
arms were tiring. She’d been at it for over an hour. The soapy water had long
since turned cold. Her tennis shoes, cutoffs and light blouse were soaked. The
yellow bandana around her head couldn’t keep perspiration from flowing down her
tear-streaked face.

She sat back on her
haunches assessing her clean floor. “Good,” she muttered. “Now all I have to do
is get rid of the idiot.” She’d a belly full of Ed Harrington. She had a farm
to save. There was not enough time to mess up her life with false hopes of
romance. Spying a tile that didn’t look clean enough, Maggie grabbed the sponge
and started working on the recalcitrant spot.

She never heard the
door close.

“Are you nesting,
or trying to tear the house apart?”

Maggie glanced up
to see Flo Zimmerman staring down at her with a look of awed disbelief. “Neither.
I’m just cleaning the damn kitchen floor. Is that okay?”

“Oh.” Flo took a
step backward toward the porch. “I just brought by the medicines you wanted me
to pick up at the pharmacy. You can pay me later.”

“Don’t go,” Maggie said,
rising to her feet with sponge in hand. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just
not been a very good day. Thanks for bringing the stuff. I’ll get some money.”

“No, you’re all wet
and in the middle of something. Pay me next time you’re in town. How is your
hired man? Mr. Harrington.”

“He could be dead
as far as I’m concerned.” Maggie twisted her mouth and stared at the floor. Looking
back at Flo, she said, “He’ll mend. And then he’ll move on.”

“Oh.” Flo clasped
her hands behind her back. “You know, at first Brad thought your hired man was
just trying to use you. And then he changed his mind. Just before he left town,
Brad came by the diner. He thought the kids really liked the man and that you
were all gonna be a family. Brad actually seemed quite happy about that.”

“Shows you what my
brother knows.” Maggie glanced sharply at Flo standing in the doorway looking
like she was trying unsuccessfully to keep a secret. “So what is my brother
doing confiding in you?”

Flo’s skin turned
rosy pink. “Nothing. He just likes to come in and have a cup of coffee at the
counter.” Her fingers twisted at the knot of the belt of her skirt. “He’s
changed a lot, you know.”

Closing and opening
her mouth, Maggie shook her head. “Oh my God. Not you. Sensible Flo. You know
he goes through women like water comes out of a spigot.” She looked quickly at
the sink faucet; her hand flew to her mouth. “You can’t be too careful around
my brother. Well, he won’t be around often.”

“He’ll be back for
Thanksgiving. He said you invited him.”

Maggie frowned. “Right,
I did. I forgot.” She scrutinized her friend. “Be careful, Flo. You’re my
dearest friend, and he’s my brother. Be very careful.”

“Nothing’s going to
happen,” Flo stammered. “I think.”

“So why do you
flush and stutter every time you speak of him?” Maggie regretted her words
immediately. Flo’s pained looked needed no elaboration. Maggie kicked herself
for hurting her friend. “You’ll do fine, Flo. You’ve got a good head on your
shoulders. You can keep Brad at bay if you want to.” Maggie wished she believed
that.

Seeing yet another
blotch on a tile, Maggie stooped to wipe it up.

“I best be going,
Maggie,” said Flo. “I’m sorry about Harrington.”

“Yeah, well
everything works out for the best.” Maggie’s heart tumbled, belying her
confidence. “He’ll be on his way shortly, and then maybe life can return to
normal.”

“Normal isn’t always
so good.” Flo blinked and wiped perspiration from her brow. “But he is a lot of
man.”

Maggie’s brain
exploded. She stood and hurled the wet sponge at the kitchen table. “Why the
hell does everyone think I’m not woman enough for Ed?”

Flo retreated to
the middle of the porch. “I didn’t say that.”

“The hell you didn’t!”
With hands on hips, Maggie glared hard through tears. “You might as well have.”

“It’s just that he’s
so mysterious. He’s a stranger. You’re doing what a lot of women dream about.”

“And you think
those kinds of dreams turn into nightmares.”

“I dunno—romance
doesn’t happen here in Beaverhill. That’s Hollywood stuff.”

“Maybe I should be
warning Brad to stay away from you.” Instantly alarmed at her own bitterness,
Maggie said, “I’m sorry, Flo. I didn’t mean that. Maybe you’d best be going. I’m
not very good company today.”

Casting a horrified
look over her shoulder, Flo moved swiftly down the steps toward her car.

“Thanks for
bringing the medicines by,” Maggie shouted at her friend’s back. The slam of a
car door was the only reply. Maggie fell back onto the porch swing and sobbed. Belatedly,
she realized that Flo had never mentioned what country western tune was playing
on the car radio when she drove into the driveway.

Within an hour the
phone rang. Maggie answered.

“I’m sorry, Maggie,”
Flo said. “You’re woman enough for three men.”

“Whoa.” Maggie
laughed. “I don’t want to go there. But I do appreciate your confidence. I’m
glad you called. I know I was upset and rude earlier. I’m sorry.”

“It didn’t matter. We’ve
been through a lot worse.”

“Guess you’re right
about that. What are old friends for if they can’t get ticked at one another
now and then?”

“Stop by the diner
when you’re in town next. Love you.”

“Of course I will. Love
you, too.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next morning,
standing before the loft window, Ed watched the slouched form of Maggie
carrying his breakfast. He supposed he should have gone over to the house; he
could have managed. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to handle Maggie yet.

There was no
question in his mind that he’d hurt her badly the day before. He’d spent most
of the remainder of the day and night trying to explain to himself why he had
felt it so necessary for her to grasp that he would be leaving. There was
plenty of time. He wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. And it would take
some time to figure out who was trying to scare Maggie off her land.

He never intended
to hurt Maggie, yet every time he said something or did something he wound up
hurting her anyway. Ed scowled at the memory of her leaving his room.

How had she
deceived herself so? She couldn’t really love him. Maybe she loved some
reformed image of him, or of herself as his reformer.

He squared his
shoulders, readying himself to withstand her latest strategy for getting him to
change.

Maggie knocked,
entered and set down the tray of scrambled eggs, bacon, juice and coffee. At
last she looked at him.

Ed’s stomach
lurched. Sunken eyes greeted him. Where had their spark gone? Each eye sat back
over a darkened, fleshy bag. Maggie didn’t wear eye-liner. Dammit to hell, he
screamed to himself. No words came from his dry throat. His hands began to
shake.

“We’ve got to talk,”
Maggie said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

“I’m sorry,” Ed
replied. His words were shaky. Only with a strong will was he able to keep from
hugging the woman to his body. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Maggie’s eyes grew
cold. “It doesn’t matter. You did. But it doesn’t matter. I’m over that now.”

Like hell. Ed had
been lied to by women many times. Some of them had been experts. Maggie was
not. He started to speak.

Maggie interrupted,
“Eat your breakfast. It’ll get cold.”

Sitting down on the
edge of the bed, Ed reached for the fork. He didn’t feel any more like eating
than jumping from a twenty story building, but it was important to Maggie.

She plopped down on
the chair across from him. He had other memories of her in that chair.

Speaking to him as
if he were a cardboard image, she said, “We’ve got to get to the bottom of who
had you beaten up. I’m sorry you suffered because of me. You’re free to leave
now if you wish. In fact, I’d like that. But you’re probably too stubborn to do
that.”

“Look who’s calling
me stubborn.”

Maggie showed no
sign of responding to his bait.

Ed reached for his
coffee. She was more hurt than he had imagined. “You’re right. I’m not about to
go anywhere, yet. As far as my suffering goes, I’ve been hurt worse when a
horse kicked me in the knee. A couple days and I’ll be hobbling around okay. Another
week and I should be as good as new.”

“I sure hope so; I
want to get this resolved quickly.”

Maggie stood and
paced back and forth while he ate. Ed was pleased to see some of the old fire
returning to her body. She stopped three feet away from him. “Apparently some
creep out there is very serious about taking over this land. We’ve got to find
out who it is before anyone is hurt even worse. Could Con-Ex Farms be this
ruthless?”

“Maybe.” Ed relaxed
some as they turned to a common purpose. “I doubt they’re used to losing or
having a woman stand up to them. How about Prater?”

“He’s twisted
enough. He could be behind it all,” Maggie agreed, sitting back down in the
chair. “Prater also mentioned a second party was interested in the farm. Never
told me who.”

Ed hesitated, scowling.
“You’re not going to like this thought, but what about your brother?”

“Brad?” Maggie
squeaked with a start.

“Yeah, he’s got a
lot to gain. Clearly, he doesn’t want you to hold onto the farm. And I don’t
think he ever quite signed up for my fan club.”

Maggie shook her
head rapidly. “No. We may have our differences, but he wouldn’t stoop that low.”
She caught her breath. “Oddly, I might have considered him before our last
conversation. I think he really wants to have a better relationship with me;
part of that is because of the kids. But still…”

“Okay. I accept
your opinion. Yet he strikes me as a very crafty guy, capable of concocting
quite a story if he wants to.”

“There’s no doubt
about that.” Maggie riffled her hands through her unkempt hair. “What do we do
now?”

Ed tried not to
notice how the simple action of running fingers through her hair lifted Maggie’s
breasts in such an alluring manner. He wished those were his fingers entwined
in that soft hair and that his lips were caressing those beading nipples.
Whoa
.
In spite of what he might say to convince himself otherwise, he missed the feel
of her under his body and of her fragrance filling all his senses.

“I’m thinking I’ll
talk with Ben Templeton again,” Maggie said. “The insurance man is all over the
area and has a good ear. It doesn’t look like the police are particularly
helpful.”

“That seems clear. They
just look at me as a drifter involved in a fight over a woman. The area would
be better off if I disappear, was their thinly veiled message.” He paused. “So
how does it feel to be the woman guys are busting bones over?”

“I wouldn’t trust
Deputy Harris as far as I could throw him. He tried to break up Mason and me
when we were juniors.” Shuddering, Maggie added, “He came on to me three months
after Mason died. I told him about the facts of life.”

Ed chortled. “I’d
liked to have seen that. So the Sheriff Department might have a vested interest
in my taking a hike. Guess we can’t rely on them for much.”

“I don’t know about
Sheriff Hampton. He always seemed fair enough, from a distance. I never had any
dealings with him, but he’s one of the good ole boys. If a friend wanted you to
move on, I’m not sure he’d get very worked up over a beating.”

“Maybe I’ll give
Clint Travers a call,” Ed stretched, testing the recovery of his shoulder
muscles. “He’s got a good nose for these kinds of things. Don’t remember if I
told you he has a degree in criminal justice. He’s actually a partner in a
Chicago based detective agency.”

“No! Really? I
thought he kept busy buying, selling and trading horses. Sounds like he still
spends a fair amount of time in Utah. When can the man find time to be a
detective?”

“I don’t think he
does any of the actual leg work. He’s more of a silent partner.”

“That reminds me,” Maggie
said. “Cassie will be coming down the middle of next week. With all that’s
happened, I almost forgot. You remember we’re running Capote’s Dream in the Inaugural
Stakes at Prairie Meadows Labor Day weekend. I’m looking forward to working
with her at the track.”

“That’ll be great.”
Ed grimaced, hesitating. “Sorry I haven’t been able to help you out there.”

“We knew from the
start you wouldn’t be able to go to the track with me.” She stopped. “At least
not until your name is cleared. There’s no way I’d be on the verge of a
competitive racing stable without you. Apart from anything else between us, I
think you know how grateful I am.”

Ed nodded. “The
pain of not being with you on race day, to smell shedrow, to swap stories, to
hear the announcer’s call, is a hundred times more severe than what those two
goons inflicted on me with their fists.”

- o -

Maggie kept her
gaze on the floor. Desperately, she wanted to stay angry at Ed until he left
her and the farm. But she couldn’t do it. She had as much if not more to do with
their personal difficulties than he did. Maybe she didn’t have to stay angry. Maybe
she could just hold her emotions in check better. “I know being away from the
track is tough on you,” Maggie responded meekly. “I hope and pray that the
truth is found out, and soon.”

“Thanks.” Ed returned
his empty coffee cup to the tray and stood awkwardly. “Okay tiger, let’s go get
‘em. We’ll win our share of the races, and we may even be able to foil a bad
guy or two.”

Maggie slowly
descended the loft stairs.
Yes, races and bad guys, but what about us?
What
us? In his judgment, she was just as much banned from his life as were tracks
and booze.

“Now, Maggie.”

“Don’t
now
Maggie
me, Ben Templeton! My business is nobody else’s concern,” Maggie said,
sitting on the edge of a cushioned chair across from the oak desk of her old
family friend.

Ben held up his
hand to silence her.

Grudgingly, she
held her tongue.

“You know all about
the character of rural communities, Maggie. You grew up here. You went to
school here. Your roots are here. People are nosy. They talk. There’s a reason
why our paper only comes out once a week. We don’t need a daily.”

Maggie groaned. What
he was saying was true. She’d given the folks of Beaverhill more than a little
to talk about lately. Unable to contain her curiosity, she leaned forward. “So
what are they saying about me?”

“Don’t you have any
friends, girl? Am I it?”

He looked
uncomfortable. What was he holding back? “Mason and I were childhood
sweethearts. There wasn’t a lot of room for many others. Most of our friends
were his. Of course there’s Flo, though she’s usually too afraid to tell me
what’s really happening because she doesn’t want to see me hurt. Dolly Thompson
and I used to be close, but she thinks I should build a shrine to Mason and grieve
for him the rest of my life.”

“Don’t do that,
Maggie,” Ben said, staring at the picture on his desk of his deceased wife. “Whatever
you do, don’t do that. Loneliness is a disease you never quite get comfortable
with. I was an old man already by the time my Hazel died.” Ben coughed and
rubbed his chin. “I didn’t want another partner. Looking back on it, I should
have at least looked around. Sometimes life is too long without someone to
share it with.”

Maggie nodded,
feeling oddly uncomfortable about a man of his generation sharing such intimate
information with her. Yet she was also honored that he cared enough to expose
his own vulnerability.

Still, she wasn’t
about to pursue his train of thought further. “So what are they saying about
me?”

Ben fidgeted with a
pen. “Well, some folks think you’re in way over your head. That it’s just a
matter of time before you have to fold your cards and sell out like so many
others have.”

“Uh, huh. That’s
not surprising. What else?”

“Of course,
everyone knows about Ed Harrington helping you out and living in the loft in
your barn.”

Maggie slid back in
the chair. Her legs stuck to the sticky vinyl and her feet failed to touch the
floor. “So what do they say about him?”

“Again, nothing
that would surprise you, I’m sure.” Ben steepled his fingers, eyeing her
intently. “Most seem to think he’s taking advantage of you. Everyone knows of
his history with the booze. Beyond that there are a lot of rumors about who he
really is. A drifter. A cowboy from the west. A horse trainer. A con artist. You
name it and it’s probably been mentioned. Naturally, your mother-in-law claims
to be aghast from these rumors, but she also seems to be adept at promoting
them.”

“No doubt. I never
was quite good enough for her son. Okay,” Maggie said, clenching her hands
tightly in her lap, “what else do these good citizens have to say?”

“Oh, some believe,”
Ben peered over his glasses, “that Colt Magee’s daughter is finally showing her
true colors, shacking up with the first stray tomcat that happens by.”

“Son of a bitch,”
yelped Maggie, jumping from her chair. “What right do they have to judge? And
we’re not shacking up.”

“Well, I suppose
the only right has to do with their sense of being in the right.” Ben shook his
head. “Maggie, I don’t care what you’re doing as long as you’re not setting
yourself up to be hurt. But it doesn’t help any that you keep the fellow
cloistered out at the farm.”

Maggie looked
blankly at her friend. “What do you mean—cloistered at the farm?”

“It’s a lot easier
to put horns on a person you don’t know than one you do know.”

“Hah, I seem to
grow my own easily enough. And everybody knows me.”

Ben smiled. “Some
of that is inherited. You may have thought your dad was loved by everyone, but
his independent ways ticked off a lot of folks around here. Colt Magee was a
man who never believed in the majority rule idea.”

“Guess you’re right
about that,” Maggie conceded. “And I don’t imagine I do things the way the
little wife and mother ought to do them. But Mason was never much into farming.
And I’ve had to be a mother and a father these last two years. Frankly, I don’t
care much about what people think of me. But I do care about how they treat my
kids.”