Her Kind Of Cowboy
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“And his wife?” Years ago, Jesse had found Mrs. Martin to be prickly, condescending and critical, but maybe she’d mellowed.
“Joyce, she keeps the books. She don’t go out much. Got a bad back.”
Jesse could relate. “There’s another daughter, right?” He’d been wondering where stuck-up Lindsay had wound up.
Casey wiped his hands on a napkin. “That one, she’s not a bit like her sister. Got herself engaged ’bout six months ago. Fellow from San Francisco, real nice. He stayed with us awhile, seemed to like it here. But something happened and they broke it off.”
But Jesse really wanted to hear about Abby. “So the younger sister moved back home after her husband died and she teaches kids in the little schoolhouse,” he said, thinking aloud. At least Abby had realized part of her dream. “Was her husband from around here?”
Leaning back, Casey looked at Jesse, as if debating how much to tell. “She met him at college, down in Tucson. Weren’t married but a month when he up and drowned in a boating accident. Abby came home on account of she was going to have a baby.” He shook his head. “Those girls are twenty-six and twenty-eight and still living under their daddy’s roof. Joyce is happy about that, but Vern, he’d like a couple of son-in-laws to take over the ranch one day.” He stood and adjusted his suspenders. “Trouble is, we don’t always get what we want, right? I’m going to get more iced tea. Want a refill?”
“No, thanks.” Jesse tossed his napkin onto his empty plate, then sat back thinking over what he’d just learned. Abby had never so much as mentioned anyone at college. Must have been a whirlwind romance. Or did she marry him on the rebound when Jesse didn’t return? No, they’d never discussed marriage or even love. Still, she hadn’t struck him as the type who’d quickly move into another relationship. Well, he’d likely find out soon enough.
Rising, he cleared his plate and walked outside while Casey stopped to talk to Carmalita. The sun was just sinking beyond the far horizon, bathing the hillside in oranges and yellows. At home in California, the sun usually set beyond the mountains surrounding the Triple C, nothing at all the way it did here. Jesse had never seen more beautiful sunsets than in Arizona.
Turning toward the house he was to occupy for a while, he noticed two little girls playing with a brown puppy in front of his porch. They had to be four or five, one very blond, the other with a dark braid down her back. Smiling, he walked toward them. As soon as the puppy spotted Jesse, he ran forward, all big feet and pink tongue, then rolled over onto his back, inviting a belly rub. Jesse squatted down and obliged the little guy as the two girls came rushing over.
“What’s his name?”
“Spike,” they both answered.
“Whose puppy is he?” Jesse asked as the little dog squirmed in ecstasy.
“Hers,” said the blond child, indicating her friend. “I’m Grace and she’s Katie. What’s your name?”
Pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t the least bit shy, he smiled at her as she plunked herself down in the grass. Katie sat down close to her friend, obviously a little bashful. “Jesse. Where do you girls live?” he asked, thinking the two must be holdovers from the little schoolhouse.
Grace pointed toward the big house. “I live over there and Katie lives in town but she’s staying over ’cause her mom’s sick. Where do you live?”
He couldn’t help but be taken by the precocious little girl with the big blue eyes. “I guess I’ll be living over there for a while.” He pointed to the cabin Casey had said was his.
Before he could get in another question, he saw from the corner of his eye that someone was running toward them. Standing up, Jesse recognized Joyce Martin as she stopped in the middle of the drive and called both girls by name, urging them to go to her immediately. Thinking to introduce himself, Jesse took a step closer, but Joyce sent him a warning glance before hustling the girls inside.
Casey came alongside. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Martin.”
His tone told Jesse that the woman wasn’t one of Casey’s favorites either. “Not exactly. Is she always that friendly?”
“Pretty much,” he answered, chuckling. “She’s over-protective of her family. Guess she’s got her reasons.” He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. “Why don’t you go get your bag and I’ll show you through your cabin?”
“Okay.” Jesse had parked his Bronco in the wide apron by the big house and decided to move it nearer the cabin. As he got behind the wheel, he glanced up to the second-story window that he remembered used to be Abby’s room.
She was standing there, holding back the sheer curtains on both sides, watching him. Too far away to read her expression, he stared back for several long seconds, then pulled his gaze away and parked the Bronco by the cabin. Stepping out, he saw that she hadn’t moved, her head still turned toward him.
Right then, he’d have given a lot to know what she was thinking.
Chapter Two
Abby Martin stood looking out her bedroom window watching the new hire follow Casey into the cabin. She waited until the lights went on and the door closed. Oddly uneasy and not quite sure why, she pulled the sheers over the window and picked up her hairbrush.
Dad had told her all about Jesse Calder, the man from California who’d had great success in working with traumatized horses. Apparently his father had learned from the teachings of Monty Roberts, the original horse whisperer who’d taught himself to communicate with horses starting years ago when he was a child.
At first, she’d been skeptical, worried a stranger might set Remus back even further. But Casey had researched the Calders and learned that they were not only legitimate, but owners of one of the largest horse ranches in the west. The ranchers they’d contacted who’d used Jesse’s services had nothing but praise for him and his methods. Casey had convinced her and Dad, and they’d invited the man to visit to see what he could do.
Abby pulled her long blond hair free of the band and began brushing. She was aware that one thing that had bothered her was the name. Jesse. The mere sound brought memories, sad ones, from a time she’d worked so hard to forget. Then, just when she’d convinced herself that there really was nothing to a name, a man named Jesse had shown up today.
Undoubtedly, her mind was playing tricks on her. But when she’d seen him walk over and get into the Bronco just now, then sit and gaze up at her, she’d felt something eerily familiar. Of course, she was being paranoid. He was tall and lean, like that other Jesse, but more muscular. And he had a beard, but then, any man could grow one. Then there was the limp. Not pronounced, but he walked slowly and carefully, as if denying he had a problem. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes from this distance, but, even if they were the same, all manner of people had blue eyes.