Heat Wave (Riders Up) (27 page)

As she made a
second round of pouring coffee, Maggie looked up in time to see Mrs. McPherson
marching up the steps like it was an everyday occurrence for her to be entering
the Anderson house. Maggie pasted the most welcoming smile on her face she
could manage. It shouldn’t be such a surprise to see the old shrew. After all,
the news of the day was happening at the Anderson farm.

“Welcome, Mary
Jane,” Maggie chirped, determined not to let the woman put a damper on the day.
Maggie accepted the layered cake which Mrs. McPherson handed her with
outstretched arms.

“I came because it
is the neighborly thing to do,” Mrs. McPherson explained. “And I understand
your rogue is actually going to make an honest woman of you. How nice of him.”

“Oh, I don’t know
about that,” Maggie cooed, brightening. “Quite the contrary, I just about had
to lasso and hogtie him in order to make an honest man out of him.”

Mrs. McPherson
raised her chin and stalked rigidly through the kitchen to the living room,
probably seeking a friendly face. Maggie smothered a giggle. When she turned
around, several of her neighbors gave her sly approving looks. Most folks
wouldn’t dare to tweak the gossipmonger of Beaverhill.

Two weeks later
Maggie walked proudly through the new stable. While finishing touches remained
to be done here and there, the facility was operational. Four broodmares,
appreciating their new surroundings, stretched their necks over stall doors to
greet her and search for a carrot or an apple.

Maggie reached out
to scratch the ears of a bay. A few more months, she told herself, and they
would have little ones dashing about. She and the kids could hardly wait. Even
Ed, who like so many horse folks kept emotions secreted away, couldn’t keep awe
from creeping into his voice when he spoke of foaling season.

Half a dozen horses
on R and R from the Chicago tracks also benefited from the more spacious stalls
in the newly constructed building. The two-year-olds that Ed had been training
during the summer and fall were now with Cassie; she would finish their gate
training at the track. Maggie and Ed had not decided where the remaining horses
would race. Certainly some would stay in the Chicago area, and she and Ed would
race others at Prairie Meadows. No doubt some would shuttle back and forth,
depending on purse sizes and race conditions.

As Maggie walked
toward the end of the stable, she was particularly pleased with the adjoining
enclosed arena. There she would continue to learn the nuances of horse training
even when it was cold outside. Ed had said that they would be able to work the
horses fairly well until the outside temperature dropped below zero. At that
point, horse, human, and tack could be too stiff and resistive to accomplish
anything positive.

Still, a lot of
training would take place in the arena year around. Ed was even considering the
idea of giving riding lessons to interested 4-H youth. He’d promised to teach
Johnny, and a few additional students wouldn’t matter. She knew he believed that
was one way he could help pay back a community that had reached out to him as
well as to her. Did he realize how attached he’d become to the land and to
their neighbors?

As she finished
making her rounds, Maggie noticed the too familiar white Con-Ex Farms van
coming down the driveway. “Damn,” she cussed, “what a way to spoil a perfectly
good day. What the hell does corporate America want now?”

The van came to a
stop only a few yards from where she stood. Taylor Fallon, dressed in his
standard dark suit, stepped out of the vehicle.

“Good morning, Ms.
Anderson,” he said somewhat shyly, looking away from her glare. He glanced
around at the spacious stable area. A lopsided, satisfied grin settled on his
face. “Looks like you’ve done well with your new barn.”

Maggie ignored the
admiration in the man’s voice. “What can I do for you?” she asked abruptly. “As
you can see, the land is still not for sale. And it never will be.”

“No, I don’t
suppose it is or ever will be.”

Why did Fallon seem
so amused? Hadn’t he expected her to fold in front of his corporation’s
demands?

“If I may say so,
you’ve got a lot of guts, ma’am. I respect and appreciate that.”

Almost as if at
attention, Maggie stood her ground, waiting for the man to state his business. Whatever
he had on his mind, she wasn’t going to like.

Fallon frowned. “I’m
not here to give you a hard time. I just wanted you to know that while Con-Ex
Farms was interested in purchasing your property, it isn’t anymore.”

“Oh.” Maggie’s
curiosity was piqued.

“Nope.” Fallon paused
and shifted his feet, his voice cracked. “We want you to know that Con-Ex Farms
is not into beating up people, killing cats, or burning barns to make anyone
sell what they don’t want to sell.”

“You’re not?” Maggie
swallowed.

“Absolutely not. We
might do things some folks in the local community don’t like. We do try to turn
a profit as efficiently as we can. But we like to think we also help build the
community up, giving it a better long run future by providing jobs and a
healthier tax base.”

“You don’t have to
do a public relations job on me, Mr. Fallon.”

The executive
winced. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. We’ve helped communities with building and
maintaining roads, with getting their products to market, with providing
scholarships to kids interested in careers in agriculture.”

“And you’ve also
driven people out of their homes,” Maggie snorted. “Oh, I don’t mean
deliberately,” she said, waving off his protest. “Still, they leave. For all
the good you might do, you wreak a lot of havoc and ill feeling.”

Maggie stopped
speaking. Her hand flew to her mouth; she shook her head in disbelief. It
couldn’t be, she shouted to her five senses. Her stomach shriveled in response.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped. “You’re the donor. The hundred thousand dollars came
from Con-Ex Farms.”

Fallon blanched. Shaking
his head, he started to speak.

“Don’t lie to me,”
Maggie said, hardly breathing.

“Okay. So what if
we did?” Fallon growled. “We don’t want to be brushed with the paint of
criminals. And we hope we don’t do anything that incites others to do evil
deeds.”

“Do I detect a
little guilt behind that goodwill?”

“I won’t deny it.”
Fallon pulled on his tie and loosened his collar. “I…
we
don’t like the
way things have been going here in Beaverhill, and the way people point fingers
at our corporation as if we’re responsible.”

“But why didn’t you
go public with your concerns and your donation? Broadcast to the world that you
helped save Maggie Anderson from the jaws of humiliation and failure,” Maggie
said, flailing her arms.

“Now don’t get all
riled up. We wanted to help quietly. You wouldn’t have accepted the money
otherwise. And I understand you plan on paying the money back over time into
high school scholarships. So everybody wins. And you’ve used the money well. This
is a beautiful racing facility.”

“I suppose you’re
right.” Maggie scuffed one booted toe across the other. She felt her cheeks
heating. Looking up at the man who she’d thought was her nemesis, Maggie had a
hard time saying what she knew needed to be said. “I guess I owe you an
apology…and a thank you.” She paused. “So what can I do for you? You know I’m
not going to sell.”

“You’re welcome. And
of course you won’t sell. I said we weren’t interested. But maybe you can do
two or three things. First, don’t always assume that Con-Ex Farms is the bad
guy. Second, don’t trust that banker, Prater, for anything. Third, hold open
the possibility of selling me some shares in a racehorse.” Fallon flashed a
brilliant smile. “And I’m a very happily married man, Ms. Anderson, or I might
be looking for more. You are a remarkable woman; I hope Harrington appreciates
what he’s getting.”

“Well, thank you. I
think.” Maggie wasn’t about to get into a discussion of Ed and what he was
getting. Still, Fallon had said something that nagged at her. “We’ll keep you
in mind regarding the horses. We may be interested in partnerships as we grow
the stables.” She hesitated. “I’m curious. More than a little, actually. Do you
know anything specific about Prater being behind our troubles?”

Fallon should his
head. “If I did, I would have said so,” he said grimly. “All I know is that
your name causes him to go into tirades that border on insanity, at least from
my point of view.”

Maggie felt a
chilling darkness creep through her veins. What had she ever done to send
anyone into tirades bordering on insanity?

 Fallon opened the
door to the van. Getting in, he said, “I’ll let you know if I hear anything
specific, but I don’t expect to have much to do with the local banker. Let me
know when you’re ready to sell a piece of a promising horse.” He grinned
broadly. “Good luck, Ms. Anderson. With the farm, the horses, and with that
hired man of yours. See you.”

Every emotion
imaginable raced for attention throughout Maggie’s body as she watched the Con-Ex
Farms van pull out of her driveway. She wanted to be angry at Fallon, at Con-Ex
Farms, at Ben for duping her about the money, but she couldn’t.

Truthfully, she’d
been awed by Fallon’s genuine concern. How much of him was behind the donation?
And she was pleased that through her and Con-Ex Farms, a lot of local kids
would get much needed assistance for college. He’d been right. In the long run,
the money would be a good investment in the community. In the short run, that
money made Anderson Stables more viable than it had ever been before. Biting
her lower lip, Maggie admitted she was grateful.

Maggie scowled and walked
back into the barn thinking about Fallon’s advice regarding Prater. Obviously,
the list of those possibly wanting to see her succumb to failure had been
narrowed by one. Con-Ex Farms no longer belonged on that list. Who did that
leave? Prater. McPherson, maybe. And a possible second party Prater had alluded
to in the spring but never mentioned by name. Someone else or some other
company interested in the Magee property. Would this assault over her land ever
end?

Maggie looked
around the table and smiled easily. The Thanksgiving meal had never been better.
Remains of turkey, mashed potatoes, yams, cranberries, cooked carrots, and
homemade bread adorned the table while fresh pumpkin and cherry pies sat on the
kitchen counter.

“Maggie, everything
is delicious. Again, thank you so much for including Gladys and me on this
special day,” Ben Templeton said, lifting his wine glass in a salute to his
hostess. The gray haired woman sitting beside him nodded her head in agreement.

“We’re happy you
could join us, Ben. Both of you. This Thanksgiving Day wouldn’t be nearly as
filled with bounty if it hadn’t been for your help.”

“Yeah, I sure didn’t
know what I was getting you into when I referred you to Harrington,” Ben
quipped. “I’m glad it worked out, though. I’m pleased as punch for the both of
you.”

Ed cleared his
throat. He looked briefly from Ben to Maggie and then addressed Ben. “Well, I
don’t hardly know where I might be if you hadn’t sent her to me. Expect I
wouldn’t be eating turkey and all the trimmings. And I certainly wouldn’t have
a family and my career. Doubt that the Illinois Racing Board would have found
me, and if they had, they would never have wanted me back in the condition I
was in.”

“Now don’t go
getting mushy on me, Harrington,” Ben cautioned. “I may have started the
snowball, but you and Maggie, here, made the snowman.”

“And snow-woman,”
Maggie chuckled. “Still, Ben, you’ve been there for us throughout—with the
community, after the fire…you’ve been a very loyal friend.” As her eyes
glistened, she lifted her glass to make a toast. “To a dear man who listens to
quirky females who can’t seem to ever get Iowa soil out from under their
fingernails.”

After sharing some
wine, Ben countered, “To a young, spunky woman who still takes time to listen
to the wisdom of the land. I’m real proud of you, girl. You know your dad and mom
would be, too.”

“Yeah, sis, I want
to get in on this too,” Brad said, lifting his glass. “Ben’s right. Mom and Dad
would be proud.” With a shaky voice, he added, “I am, too. Best of luck to both
of you.”

“Thanks,” Maggie
mumbled. Her brother had shown up two days earlier. Her kids were thrilled at
his arrival. And she had to confess he’d been very conciliatory. Several times
he’d started to engage her in what she thought was an important conversation,
only to have it fade away. They’d both agreed to let Ben process their
insurance money without going through lawyers. Thank goodness for that. And
thankfully, too, Brad and Ed had behaved civilly with each other. She couldn’t
expect more than that.

“Can I have some
more turkey, Mom?” Johnny piped. “Before more speeches.”

Everyone laughed
except Johnny.

Ed passed the boy
the turkey platter while Maggie asked, “So what are you thankful for, Johnny? And
how about you, Carolyn?”

“Food,” Johnny blurted
out. “And for the horses and Ed. And that we don’t have to move.”