The Baby Race (9 page)

"You can't be serious. There has to be
another way." Fists clenched, she stared at him.

He straightened.

"Race!"

Bobbie Sue's yell echoed up the stairs,
providing him with an escape. Coward that he was, he took it.

*****

The carnival proved to be the perfect
distraction. Claire shook off her worry about what Bobbie Sue's
natural father planned to do and threw herself into enjoying the
day.

Harder to forget were those moments in Race's
arms and his decree that they share a room, especially since he
insisted on escorting them around the small carnival. Appearing
completely unaffected by their encounter, he crammed himself onto
the rides with them; bought them cotton candy, soda and hotdogs;
and won them stuffed animals at the game booths.

The shadows were growing long when Claire
collapsed gratefully onto a bench and watched as Bobbie Sue and
Rachel raced off toward the petting zoo. "My feet are killing me.
Where do they get the energy?"

Race grinned and sat next to her. "Must be
all the sugar and preservatives in the junk food they eat."

She gently rubbed her belly. "Don't remind
me. My stomach may never be the same." Two stuffed animals tumbled
to the ground. She groaned and left them lay.

Race stretched out his long denim clad legs
and leaned back.

Yards away the river shimmered in the late
afternoon sunshine, the sound of the water drowned out by the
constant roar of the carnival rides and the rumble of voices. Heavy
odors of grease and hot electric motors filled the air, but
couldn't completely mask the scent of moist earth and newly mown
grass.

His smile faded. "Claire, we need to talk
about this morning."

Memories caused her flesh to warm. "That's
not a good idea."

"Maybe not, but we need to clear the air
between us. We have an arrangement. I had no right to take
advantage the way I did. I want you to know it won't happen again."
He'd make sure it didn't. "We'll make sharing a room work. You're
an attractive woman, but...."

"Race. Claire." Cindy skidded to a stop in
front of them, her face wreathed in a smile. "I just did a
preliminary box office count." The normally unflappable woman
bubbled with excitement, making her appear much younger than her
forty years. "The carnival is a smash. This year we'll make a
sizeable profit. Between the dinner, the carnival and tomorrow's
horse show there'll be enough to get started on the construction of
the visitor center."

"Thanks, Cindy. You and everyone else have
done a great job. I appreciate all your hard work."

Though his words were sincere, his lack of
enthusiasm angered Claire. Cindy looked confused.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "You know
that your father and I are proud of what you've accomplished here."
She spoke softly then she cleared her throat and her voice firmed.
"Well, I've got to get back to work." She turned and left, but the
spring was gone from her step.

When Claire spoke to Race, anger heated her
reprimand. "Cindy...your whole family worked damned hard to make
this event a success. You could show more gratitude."

Race leaned his head onto his hands. "I know.
I'll thank them properly later."

The despondent slump of his shoulders drained
her righteous anger. "Why don't you postpone the visitor center and
use the proceeds toward your payment?"

"The money earned this weekend doesn't come
near what I need." He named a figure that made Claire's heart skip
a beat.

"Without Grandmere's marriage bonus, come
next spring I'll lose the ranch." He gave her a rueful smile. "But
thanks to you that's not going to happen. September 1st we'll have
fulfilled the first part of her requirements. For all her faults,
Grandmere always keeps her word. I'll walk out of her house with a
check in my hands.

"For now let's forget it all and enjoy the
rest of the weekend." He stood and held out his hand. "Bet you've
never been to a horse show."

"How much you want to bet?" Unable to resist
his boyish grin, Claire put her hand in his and let him pull her
up.

When she tried to let go and step back, he
tucked her hand under his arm and held her at his side. In the
cooling night air his body radiated an enticing heat. She shivered
and he tucked her in closer.

*****

As the summer progressed, a cautious
friendship grew between Claire and Race. To make sharing a room
work, he rose early and retired late, so they were rarely in the
room at the same time. Only when she woke in the middle of the
night to find herself curled against his warmth did she wonder at
the wisdom of what they did.

He treated her with respect and no longer
avoided the house, but she sensed a reserve in him that worried
her. Like a quiet volcano there were forces at work in Race she
couldn't see.

Fortunately, no one else saw anything out of
place. The social worker did her first home visit and was
impressed, going as far as to say, if Bobbie Sue's natural father
didn't object, she couldn't see any reason the court would deny
Claire's petition to adopt.

Because Ricky Banner hadn't contacted her
since the night of the fundraiser, Claire let herself hope he'd
moved on. She thought about sharing her fears with Race, but knew
there was little he could do. It wasn't fair for her to burden him.
He'd done his part. She didn't have the right to ask for his
help.

From the time she learned to walk and talk
she'd been the responsible one, the one who took care of things
while her parents pursued their dream of treasure. Equal parts fear
and pride sealed her lips. Banner was her problem. She'd find a way
to deal with him.

Once the house was in shape, Claire began
helping out with the horses. She found she liked spending time in
the barns, feeding and caring for the big animals. Even mucking out
stalls provided a certain satisfaction and unique perfume.

Lifting a bale of hay toward the barn loft
opening, she swiped at the perspiration dripping off her face. Hay
dust coated her sticky skin and made her itch. With a relieved sigh
that this was the last bale, she clipped the cord holding the sweet
smelling hay and pushed the wafers out to the waiting horses.

Mitsi's kittens tumbled around her feet,
orange balls of non-stop curiosity and trouble. One, bolder than
the rest, tottered toward the opening. Claire scooped him up and
closed the door before the others followed and fell.

With an angry protest, the kitten dug his
claws into Claire's bare arm.

"Ouch!" She deposited the spitting kitten in
a pile of hay. "What kind of thanks is that for saving your scrawny
little butt?"

"Just like a man." Cindy's head popped over
the edge of the loft. "Bobbie Sue is ready to leave. She wants you
to come down to say goodbye. You'd think she was going across
country, rather than a couple miles down the road. You should see
what she packed."

Claire laughed. "I saw."

Cindy climbed the rest of the way up and
settled herself on a bale of hay. Dressed in denim shorts, a white
tank top and canvas slip-ons, her shoulder length hair pulled back
in a ponytail, Cindy looked crisp and cool, as well as young and
carefree. At that moment, Claire envied her friend.

"I hope you don't mind that Bobbie Sue wants
to spend tonight and Saturday night with us."

"No, of course not," Claire said. "It'll give
me time to get ready for her birthday party on Sunday." But it
would leave her and Race alone for the first time in weeks.
Friendship, instead of lessening Race's appeal, made it stronger.
His gentle patience with Bobbie Sue's endless questions made liking
the man too easy.

"This party is all the girls have been
talking about for days. Even the older girls are excited. Well, I
guess I'd better get down before Rachel comes up and starts
pestering me to bring home Framus over there." Cindy pointed at the
marmalade ball of fluff that had ventured too near the loft opening
and now sat complacently with his siblings licking his ruffled fur.
"I told her she can have just one cat, but she doesn't let up."

They climbed down. Claire turned from the
ladder just as Race rushed into the barn.

"Cindy, I need you to come with me. War and
Vicki are out somewhere and I need a woman along to get me onto to
the property to check out reports of a neglected horse. Hoffman
knows my face and won't let me close, but he doesn't know you."

"Sorry, Race. I can't. Take Claire."

Race looked startled. "Claire doesn't have
much experience with horses."

"I can tell if a horse has been abused or is
malnourished," Claire said.

Race looked doubtful. His lack of confidence
hurt. "I don't know. The man has a bad temper. If confronted, he
might get violent."

Cindy laughed. "I see. Naturally, a
stepmother is more expendable than a new wife. Call the sheriff and
have him check it out."

"Can't. The rumors aren't strong enough. We
need an eyewitness account before the sheriff can act."

Claire touched Race's arm. "I'll go. Let me
get cleaned up first."

She hurried away before he could find another
reason to stop her. Though it didn't happen often, occasionally
Race, War, Vicki or one of the volunteers snooped around to
investigate rumors of horses being abused. The animal welfare laws
in Illinois were strong, but the authorities needed some kind of
evidence before they could act. Nervous excitement made Claire's
stomach lurch.

A few minutes later she climbed into the cab
of Race's pickup. The breeze from the open window helped cool her
skin.

"Before we get to the front gate, I'll get
out and try and sneak around and look in the barn. You drive up to
the house and ask about the tractor he's advertised for sale.
That'll give you an excuse to go out to the barn. Maybe you'll see
the horse."

"Do you really think he's going to believe
I'm interested in buying a tractor?"

"Probably not, but what other reason could
you have?"

"Doesn't he have a son away at college? I
could pretend to be a friend looking for him."

"That might work, but how will that get you
into the barn?"

"Just leave it to me."

"Be careful. If you need me, blow the
horn."

"Don't worry."

How could he do anything but worry as he
watched her drive toward the house? Strange he'd never before
considered the possible danger involved in confronting someone who
could abuse an animal. He'd never worried about Cindy, War or even
Vicki being hurt when he took them out to farms where horses had
been starved or beaten.

Swallowing his apprehension, he worked his
way around to the back of the old barn. He peeked through a window
to the dim dusty interior. Badly in need of paint and repair, the
structure listed. Rusty nails and broken boards posed a risk to the
lone horse inside, but the stall held fresh straw and clean water.
Though swaybacked and half-blind, the horse appeared healthy. No
abuse here, just age.

Relief eased the tension inside Race. This
horse's owner might be uncaring of his barn, but the animal inside
while old seemed well cared for. A warning about the injury rusty
nails and broken boards could do to his animal might be enough.

Keeping out of sight of the house, Race
walked back toward the road. The murmur of voices drifted on the
warm summer air. Claire's laughter caught his attention. He looked
and saw her standing on the front porch with Clarence Hoffman.

Race vaguely remembered the man's older son,
Lawrence. For one year, they'd attended school together, until
Lawrence had graduated. Several years later, he'd been killed in an
accident and Clarence, already a long time widower and always a bit
of a recluse, had become anti-social. His younger son was away at
school and according to town gossip, had no intention of ever
returning.

"Race."

Race's head snapped up at Claire's shout.
Adrenaline shot through his veins. He ran toward the house.

"Where's the fire, boy? You young people,
always in such a gall darned hurry." Clarence leaned heavily on his
cane and opened the door. He peered at Race. "I remember you.
Jackson Reed's oldest boy. You still a hell raiser? Well, come on
in now, if'n you want some of that there lemonade I promised. It's
hot as Hades out here. Youngsters. Harrumph. No respect for money.
Or their elders." His voice faded away into the interior of the
house.

Heart thudding against his ribs, Race looked
up at Claire. "Are you all right?"

Laughter lurked in her eyes as she smiled
down at him. "I'm fine. Mr. Hoffman has invited us in for lemonade.
How's the horse?"

"Old." Race climbed the stairs. "But healthy
enough. Mr. Hoffman could spend a few hours on his barn
though."

The laughter died out of Claire's eyes. "He
had a stroke last winter and can't farm anymore. His son didn't
even come home."

"They don't get along too well."

"He's his father. He's old and alone. He
needed...needs him."

"You coming in or not? I can't afford to air
condition the outside," Mr. Hoffman yelled.

"Our gracious host calls. Can't we just
leave? The man's never liked me. Threatened to fill my backside
with rock salt if I hung around." Race cast a longing look toward
the road.

"You can go if you want. I'm staying."

Race followed. Did she think he'd leave her
alone with that crazy old man?

The house smelled of age and neglect. Dust
coated once well-polished furniture. Threadbare carpets covered
worn wood plank floors. They sat in the front parlor amid an old
man's faded memories.

His gaze on Claire, Race sipped the tart,
lukewarm drink and listened to her speak with Clarence. The man's
tone and harsh demeanor softened as he spoke to her.