Holiday in Your Heart (11 page)

“That's sad.”

“Long time ago.” Curious, he asked, “Brooke ever talk to you about our marriage?”

“Not much. Except to take her own share of the blame for things being so bad.”

“That's good of her. I'm glad she got herself sorted around. Found herself a new life.” He reflected. “I've never seen her like that before. It's like she's calm inside herself.”

“She's found love, peace, joy.”

Those were three mighty big words. Ones that Mo never expected to apply to himself. Yet Maribeth tossed them out as if they were no big thing. As if they were achievable.

Brooke had achieved them. Back when he'd known her, Mo would have said that was impossible.

“You didn't answer my other question,” Maribeth said. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Brooke was the closest. And that taught me my lesson.” He knew he wasn't cut out for love, and in fact it was pretty amazing to even be dating. His life had sure changed since he walked back into Caribou Crossing.

“Hmm.” Maribeth turned onto a smaller road marked by a wooden sign with horses on it that read R
YLAND
R
IDING
.

Mo glanced back at the dog, who sat on the seat with his nose pressed up against the window. “Caruso, I figure it's best that we leave you in the car until we get the lay of the land. Then when we head off for a ride, we'll let you out and you can come with us. That sound okay?”

The dog flicked him a glance that clearly conveyed skepticism.

To Maribeth, Mo said, “When we get out, let's be careful so he doesn't escape. I don't want to have to talk him down out of a tree.”

She pulled the car into a parking lot and Mo gazed around, noting several other vehicles, mostly minivans and SUVs. Past the parking area were a couple of outdoor rings. One was empty, but in the other a barrel racing course was set up and a woman on horseback was rounding the barrels while another watched. Mo saw a large barn and, behind it, a big wooden structure. “Indoor arena?” he guessed.

“Yes. Corrie's probably teaching a children's class in there now.”

They both slipped out of the Mini and Caruso shot them a soulful gaze through the window.

As Mo and Maribeth walked toward the barn, the woman who'd been racing around the barrels rode over to the fence. “Hey, MB,” she called.

“Hi, Sally. This is my friend Mo.”

He exchanged hellos with the pretty blonde who wore a cowboy hat and a denim jacket that was heavier than his. Her gaze was curious, but only mildly so. Probably she was used to Maribeth bringing male friends out to enjoy a ride.

“Corrie told me you have a dog,” she said to Mo.

“He's in the car. I think he's okay with horses. I figure Maribeth and I could ride out along the road we came in on and pick him up along the way. He knows both of us, so that'll likely keep him calmer.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sally said. “Corrie and I got the horses ready for you.” She turned to Maribeth. “It's Campion and Daybreak. They're in stalls in the barn. You'll just need to tighten their cinches.” Addressing Mo again, she said, “You've ridden before?”

“Yeah, a number of times.”

“There's a waiver of liability we ask people to sign the first time they come here. I left one in the office—Maribeth knows where that is—so please read it over and let me know if you have any questions.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

He and Maribeth went to the barn and he breathed in the combined scents of hay, alfalfa, and horses. Much as Mo thrived on the machine-shop aroma he was familiar with, he had to admit that a well-maintained barn smelled pretty good, too.

In the small office, he skimmed over a standard waiver form, and scrawled his signature and the date. Then he and Maribeth went to find their horses.

The one he'd be riding, Daybreak, was a sturdy palomino gelding. Maribeth's, called Campion, was a bay gelding. Maribeth greeted both horses by name and crooned to them as she stroked them. To Mo, she said, “They're even-tempered. They won't kick up a fuss as long as Caruso behaves himself.”

Mo held out his hand to Daybreak, let the horse nose it, and then stroked him. “Hey there, fellow.”

He and Maribeth led the horses out of the barn, tightened their cinches, and then mounted. It wasn't half-bad being on top of a well-mannered horse, out in the country on a November afternoon, in the company of a fine-looking woman.

They rode across the yard and through the parking lot. Caruso's bright eyes peered at them through the back window of the Mini and he did that weird head-toss thing, looking eager and impatient. Mo swung out of the saddle and handed Daybreak's reins to Maribeth. “How about you hold on to my horse while I get the dog out.”

She took her keys from her jacket pocket and handed them over.

Rather than press the button that would sound a beep, Mo unlocked the door manually. He eased it open a crack and Caruso's nose was immediately there, scenting the air. “Remember, you gotta behave yourself,” Mo warned him.

Really, what made him think that the dog would? He barely knew the creature, and singing dogs were, according to the girl from the shelter, a semi-wild breed, not one that had been domesticated for centuries. Knowing this could be a very big mistake, and yet also guessing that Caruso would consider the wide-open countryside to be the next thing to heaven, Mo eased the door farther open.

The dog was out in one bound, but then he stopped, staring at the two horses. His furry, pointed ears cocked forward and then rotated, taking in the sounds in all directions.

The horses stood still, their heads slightly down and their own ears cocked as they assessed Caruso. “He may look like a fox,” Maribeth murmured soothingly to the horses, “but he's really a dog. You've seen lots of dogs before. You know they're nothing to worry about.”

To the dog, Mo said, “They won't hurt you if you don't yap at them or snap at their heels. Maybe best not to sing to them either, at least not until they get to know you. Come on over and meet them.” Mo took a step forward and tapped his left leg with his hand, encouraging Caruso to fall into place at his heel.

* * *

Maribeth sat atop Campion, keeping one firm hand on her horse's reins and the other on Daybreak's, but neither animal seemed inclined to startle. Caruso stuck obediently to Mo as the man and dog approached the horses.

The only quickened pulse here was her own. Mo Kincaid had that effect on her. Partly, of course, it was his looks: the rangy body in casual outdoors clothes; the silver-shot black hair that despite its length and waviness looked 100 percent masculine; the gorgeous brown skin; and those stunning river-water eyes. Also, it was the way he related to that wary, abandoned dog, like the two of them were soul mates. Brooke had called Mo a lost soul, and that was a dangerous kind of man to get involved with. But yet this was the man—the one man in her entire life—who'd ever had this effect on her.

Like her, he'd never fallen in love. Unlike her, it sounded as if he didn't want to. Was she utterly insane to think that their relationship might go somewhere?

She watched the dog and horses check each other out using their eyes and noses and ears. When none of them seemed fussed, Mo mounted Daybreak again and took the palomino's reins from her. “Lead on, Maribeth.”

She urged Campion forward, onto the road they'd driven in on.

Mo brought his horse alongside, patting his left leg again and saying, “Here, Caruso. Stay with us as long as we're on the road.” He glanced at Maribeth. “His training must have included traffic. In town he knows to stay clear of it.”

A short distance down the road, a wide trail branched away, and Maribeth took it. “There's a network of trails and farm roads,” she told Mo. “You can ride for miles, and the scenery's wonderful.” Here the trees were deciduous, with leaves that unfurled jewel green in spring and turned vivid gold in fall. Right now, the branches were bare, stark against the gray sky, beautiful in a different way than during other seasons. Though there had been snow three or four times so far this year, the snowfall had been light and hadn't stuck for more than a day or two.

Mo said to Caruso, “You can go explore, but remember that we're your ride home.”

The dog gave a quick warble and then darted off, tail waving. He wove here and there through the trees, following intriguing smells or sounds.

“In a month's time,” Maribeth said, “the ranch land and hills will be white. Many of us still go riding, and there's cross-country skiing as well.”

“When I lived here before, I never much appreciated the scenery. Didn't see myself as a country boy.”

“You were from Los Angeles? Yes, that'd be a lot different from Caribou Crossing. What brought you and Brooke to our little town?”

“I don't remember. We moved around quite a bit. I wasn't good at holding a job. Didn't like taking orders, didn't like showing up on time, drank too much. Brooke got part-time jobs sometimes, but her work record was no better than mine. We didn't like any of the places we lived, so if we ran out of work or got restless, we'd up and move on.”

“Why not go back to L.A.? And now that I think of it, how did you even get permits to work in Canada?”

He didn't answer for a moment. Finally, he said gruffly, “Long story, and not a nice one. If I tell you, our first date may end up being our last.”

Startled, Maribeth gazed over at him to see him looking at her with a wry expression.

“But yeah,” he went on. “You have a right to know.”

A right? He must mean because they were dating.

They came out of the trees and Maribeth leaned down from the saddle to open a latched wooden gate. “Caruso!” she called as she rode through.

Mo followed her and bent to refasten the gate. “If the gaps between the bars aren't wide enough for him to get through, he'll just climb it.”

Sure enough, as they started down a dirt-and-grass farm road that ran alongside a wooden fence, the dog bounded up to join them. On either side of the fence was rolling grassland, a bleached-out yellow. Maribeth had chosen a route where there wouldn't be cattle or sheep in the fields, not wanting the dog to harass them.

Caruso belted down the track ahead of them, scared a red-winged blackbird perched on a fence post, and then tried to chase it when it flew away. Maribeth smiled at the dog's exuberance and then turned again to Mo, about to prompt him to share his story.

Before she spoke, Mo said, “Want to pick up the pace?”

Was she willing to give him a few minutes' grace? “Sure.” She urged Campion on, into an easy lope. The brisk air nipped her cheeks and she was glad of the wool hat that covered her ears. Still, it was invigorating being out on a day like this.

Mo was bareheaded but showed no sign of feeling the cold. Rather than huddling into the upturned collar of his jacket, he held his head high as if he was savoring the wintry air. He looked comfortable in the saddle even if he hadn't done a lot of riding. She got the sense that he was not only a physically attractive man, but a physically competent one, too. And from the way he kissed, she guessed he was more than merely competent in bed.

Would she find out tonight? He'd said that if he told her the truth about how he came to Canada, this might be their last date. She already knew his history with his ex-wife and son. What could he possibly say that would be worse than that?

Caruso ran back to them, like he was checking on them or reporting in, and then took off again.

Maribeth slowed her horse and Mo did the same. When they were walking again, she said, “That's not going to get you out of telling the story.”

“I figured you weren't a woman who gave up easily.” He ran a hand through his wind-tousled hair. “Okay, so when Brooke and I got married, I moved in with her family. But we both pretty much still lived the lives we'd lived before. She hung out with her girlfriends. I hung out with guy friends, didn't hold a job, drank too much. Screwed around on her. Brooke and I fought, especially when I'd been drinking. She slapped me once and I grabbed her arm, twisted it, hurt her enough to leave bruises.”

Maribeth stroked Campion's neck and kept quiet.

“Her dad gave me a talking-to. He drank, too. We even drank together. It was our common interest, beer and a game on TV. But he'd never hurt a woman. He told me that if I was going to live under his roof, I had to grow up and shape up.”

“So you left and came to Canada?”

He gave a rough laugh. “I left and joined the army.”

“The army?” It was the last thing she'd expected him to say. “Seriously? I thought you didn't like taking orders.”

“Yeah, well I was too dumb to realize how much of that there'd be. I thought it'd be exciting, edgy. There'd be weapons. Physical challenges. I was even crazy enough to think it'd be cool to see action overseas. Anyhow, I did make it through basic training, though it was touch and go. Meanwhile, Brooke had the baby and then she went back to school. Her mom looked after Evan.” He broke off and glanced around. “Where's that damned dog?”

Maribeth had been so caught up in his story, she'd lost track of the animal.

“Caruso!” Mo called. A few seconds later, the dog bounded into sight and came to join them.

Maribeth gestured to another gate in the fence. “Let's go that way. It leads to Eagle Bluff. There's a nice view.”

The two riders and the dog went through, and then she said, “Go on. What happened next?”

“There was this lieutenant. He was an asshole, and he was always in my face about something. Maybe I didn't bootlick enough for him, or maybe it was a racial thing, me being half Indo-American. I was chafing under all that discipline anyhow. Feeling resentful about the whole mess my life had turned into: a wife, a baby, the army. So I was like a powder keg ready to blow.”