Finally Home (7 page)

“That's cruel and inhuman,” Sophie said.

Emily glanced at her. It wasn't as if she and Soph were bosom buddies or anything, but the girl looked cold enough to snap. Em handed her a cup of coffee. “The weather or diapering a lamb?”

“Both,” she said, gratefully cradling the cup between chilled hands. “Besides, where would her tail go?”

“She's right,” Colt said, still addressing Bliss. “Little Lumpkin will have to take her chances.”

“What do you mean take her chances?” Emily asked and turned from the oven where she had just peeked at the rolls. They were starting to blush with that just-toasted look. Warm, sugar-laden contentment wafted into the air. She closed the door, poured another cup of coffee, and handed it to Ty. His gaze barely met hers for a moment as he mumbled his thanks and moved off for the closest empty chair. “Her siblings are doing okay, aren't they?”

“They have their mom to cuddle up to,” Colt said. “But I'm sure Lumpkin will be fine.”

Emily scowled. Worry was beginning to creep in. “But she'll be with the rest of the flock, right?”

“She
is
a sheep,” Colt said.

Emily turned the bacon. It sizzled merrily, spitting forth flavor and heat.

“Why don't we put her in the basement like we did all the rest of the bums?” Sophie asked.

“She'd be all alone down there,” Emily said and stole a glance at Bliss. She couldn't imagine being separated from her. It would be like death. Worse than death.

“Well, like Colt said . . .” Sophie shrugged, cradling her mug against her chest. “She is a sheep.”

Anger spurred unexpectedly through Emily, and though Colt
had
said the same thing, her rage was directed at Sophie alone. “Like Freedom's just a horse?”

“I didn't say
just.
I said—”

“So, Max . . .” Casie's voice was raised from its usual quiet reflection, effectively reminding both girls that they did, in fact, have a paying guest in their midst. After one glance they emotionally backed off to neutral corners. “You grew up in Nebraska?” she asked and poured the reconstituted milk into an empty Coke bottle.

“Well, that's what I like to tell my urban friends. They think I rope buffalo on Sundays and Thursdays, but the truth is I spent . . . or
misspent
most of my youth on Park Avenue.”

“In Midtown?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah.” Max glanced up in surprise. “Are you familiar with the area?”

“A little,” Sophie said. They all stared at her. Ty's face was expressionless, a leftover from the days when he'd been constantly careful to reveal nothing. “They make some pretty good pad Thai on the corner of Fiftieth and Sixth.”

“The Tuk Tuk Boy,” Max said, beaming. “I can't believe I found a Midtown girl out here in the Dakotas.”

“I'm a little surprised myself.” Casie said what they all were thinking. Sophie had never mentioned spending time in New York City. Apparently, they all had their secrets. And sometimes secrets hurt, Emily thought. She glanced at Ty. His hands looked rough against his misshapen mug. His hair was shaggy, and the color in his cheeks had not diminished as he held his gaze steady as a falcon on the contents of his cup. Not once did he shift his attention to Sophie. But Emily knew there was a spark there. In fact, maybe there was more than a spark. She turned her attention back to Sophie, perfectly groomed and carefully aloof despite early mornings and rank livestock. Ty, on the other hand, looked a little sick to his stomach.

Holy cats, love was like a carnival ride through hell. She was lucky to have made her way to Bliss without having to endure
that
agony, she thought, and tucked away ragged memories of professed love miserably melded with throbbing bruises.

“How about you, Tyler?” Max asked, shifting his gaze from Sophie to the boy. “Have you ever been to New York?”

Ty glanced at their guest. He kept his expression solemn, but his hands tightened on his mug. “No, sir.”

“Well, you should try it. It's a fascinating place. My father used to say there's nowhere like New York City to put polish on a boy.” He smiled at Sophie.

Ty lowered his gaze to his coffee again. Emily expected him to sink into his usual reticence, but in a moment he spoke. “A cow pony ain't a show horse just cuz you braid his mane.”

The kitchen was quiet for a second, and then Colt chuckled. “Amen,” he said.

Max laughed, Bliss gurgled, and the conversation turned to other things.

 

By the time breakfast had been devoured, Max had tried his hand at bottle-feeding Lumpkin, and Bliss had fallen asleep against the soft, waffled cotton of Colt's shoulder.

Her pink lips were parted, her tiny fingers curled softly against his chest.

“I'd take her with me,” Colt said, stroking her back gently, “but it might get the townsfolk talking a little.”

“Give her here,” Emily said and took Bliss from his arms, letting the baby's solid weight ease into her soul.

“I didn't say I was adverse to the idea,” Colt said and settled back in his chair. “Wanna ride into town with me, Ty? Or are you going to catch the bus to school?”

“You goin' right away?”

Colt glanced at the clock above the kitchen sink. It was almost seven thirty. “Should have already left,” he said.

“Guess I better clean up a little first.”

“There's something wrong when kids don't appreciate the smell of a little horse manure first thing in the morning,” Colt said and rose to his feet. “Come on. I'll give you a ride back to the Red Horse, at least. Mom will probably want to feed you a second breakfast.”

“How's she doing?” Casie asked. Cindy Dickenson had been experiencing chest pain and bouts of dizziness.

Colt shrugged noncommittally but there was worry in his eyes. “She's going in for more tests.”

Ty rose beside him, glanced furtively at Sophie, and moved toward the front door.

“Does she need a ride to the clinic or anything?” Casie asked.

Colt watched her for a second, expression inscrutable, before he shook his head. “It's not likely Dad would let her go without him.” His gaze was soft, but in a moment he turned his attention toward Max. “What's on your docket for today?”

“I'm considering snowshoeing. And I hear there's an art fair in Hope Springs. Thought we might take that in when Sonata's done chewing out her underlings.” He grinned. “
If
she gets done with that. Until then . . .” He shrugged.

“If you're interested, I could hook you up with some of our local artisans while Sonata's busy,” Emily asked.

Max cocked his head at her. “I thought you didn't have a vehicle.”

“Hence the beauty of the plan,” Emily admitted. “You could give me a ride in your fancy SUV while I make my deliveries.”

He laughed. “Sounds great,” he said. “Just let me check in with S. first. No point in making the woman you love mad, right?” he asked and paced toward the door.

Ty glanced at Sophie. Colt looked at Casie. No one turned toward Emily.

Love might be a carnival ride through hell, but sometimes a girl missed the Tilt-A-Whirl something awful.

CHAPTER 6

“H
ow's she doing?” Casie watched Sophie clip a tie to Evie's halter.

The mare, pretty as a picture despite her winter fuzz, boasted a flaxen mane and three white socks. Heaving a sigh, she relaxed her left hind and dipped her muzzle into the bucket that hung below the quick release snap.

“Pretty well,” Sophie said. “She seems to like the work and her body score is improving.”

Casie ran her gaze over the mare's golden hide. When she had come to them, packed in Monty Dickenson's horse trailer with a half dozen other horses, she had been severely underweight, though she had hardly been the worst of the lot. But while her bonier peers had packed on the pounds fairly easily, the palomino mare had remained skinny as a rail. Now, however, thanks to a strict deworming schedule, dental care, and more feed than seemed necessary to sustain a pachyderm, she looked hale and hearty.

“What do you think? Can we trust her with guests?” Casie asked.

“Riding or driving?”

“What?”

Sophie glanced over her shoulder. A mischievous grin flashed. It was a rare expression on the girl's too-serious face. “You know I've been long-lining her.” Her tone was devoid of that carefully nurtured disdain that had been all but constant during her early weeks at the Lazy.

“Yeah.” Casie kept her own tone casual. This newly emerging Sophie Jaegar was a skittish creature and only made infrequent visits. But horses seemed to coax her out of hiding. So although Casie worried about the girl's safety, she tried not to complain about the long hours she spent in the barn. Even when Casie had seen her trailing behind the palomino, two long ropes strung from the rings of her bit, she had not interfered.

“A week or so ago I started having her pull some weight. Just a little at first. A log, then a hay bale.”

Despite her vow to let the girl's shy happiness take flight, Casie felt herself pale. “Holy Hannah, Soph. I wish you'd tell me before you start things that are dangerous.”

The girl laughed. “I'm working green horses, Case. Everything's dangerous.”

“Well . . .” It was painfully true. “Just let me know when you're going to do something that's likely to get you killed.”

“Will do,” Sophie said, tone reminiscent of Emily's sassy demeanor. “But listen, she's been great. Hang on a minute. I'll show you.”

It didn't take much longer than that for the girl to drop a surcingle around the palomino's girth. The mare finished up her oats while Sophie buckled the belly band in place and slipped the snaffle bit of a driving bridle between her teeth.

“Where'd you find the harness?” Casie asked.

“In an old trunk in the hayloft. I swear this place has everything.” She fastened the throatlatch quickly in place, no small feat considering the cold. She'd set aside her bulky gloves some time ago, and fingers could only take a few minutes in these subfreezing temperatures before they began to seize up. “At first I thought I'd just use an open bridle, but I talked to my old riding instructor and she said I was likely to end up in Bennett County if I didn't put blinders on her. Apparently, it's best if they don't see the stuff they're dragging behind them.” She slipped another leather strap over the mare's head, then flipped the traces over her golden back. In a second the girl had stepped behind the animal and tapped the long reins against her sides. They moved out in tandem, slow and steady. Once beyond the barn doors, Sophie tugged on the reins, urging the mare to a halt.

“Can you grab that for me?” she asked, nodding to the left.

Casie glanced around. An old-style sled was leaning up against the side of the barn, its twisted rope lying kitty-corner across the length of it. The runners were rusted, the red paint little more than flecks of uncertain color against the sandy wood grain, but the sight of it brought back memories of Casie and her mother racing down the hills in the pastures. She retrieved it with a mental sigh of nostalgia, but the current situation brought her own maternal instincts back to the fore. “Are you sure this is safe?” she asked, setting the ancient runners down in the snow a couple yards behind the mare.

“Not in the least,” Sophie said and grinned again. Maybe it was that grin, that lovely carefree expression that was too often absent, that convinced Casie to allow this to go on.

“You're going to be the death of me,” she said, moving the sled back a few inches. In a moment Sophie had hooked the rope to the traces that dragged behind the mare. Then, slipping on her gloves and making a here-we-go expression filled with equal measures of excitement and trepidation, she sank carefully onto the sled and gently slapped the lines against the mare's haunches. Evie turned her head back for an instant, as if to ask if they were sure this was a wise idea, then moved slowly into the clean snow of the pasture.

Once those first few terrifying seconds were past, the whole performance was a joy to watch. The figure eights were a little lopsided and the transition into the trot a bit bumpy, but it was all amazing.

“Soph!” Casie said when the mare was once again standing quietly beside the barn. “That's fantastic! Where did you learn to do that?”

“It's no big deal. I just . . .” She shrugged, and though her tone evidenced a trace of that cool boredom that used to be so commonplace, her enthusiasm was still entirely evident. “I just thought I'd give it a try. I guess some trainers start them in stone boats.”

Casie searched her memory banks, but the term was notably absent despite the ridiculous amount of equine trivia she'd packed into her brain as a youth. “Stone boats?”

“It's just a really heavy thing on skids that you hook a young horse up to. The weight discourages them from doing anything too silly, I guess. Anyway, we don't have one of those, so I just decided to try this method. It'd be fun to drive her competitively. I bet she could be ready by next summer.”

Casie stifled a wince. She didn't want to squelch the girl's enthusiasm, but although the Lazy's finances were better than they had been a year before, they were far from flush.

“If anyone could get her ready, I'm sure you could, Soph, but equestrian events are expensive . . . and that's not even considering the cost of a vehicle suitable for horse shows.”

“You're right,” Sophie said, then pursed her lips and stepped out of the sled. “There's no hurry now anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” she said. Her tone had gone from excited to indifferent. Removing her gloves once again, she turned away to untie the sled. “It's not important.”

“What's going on?” Casie asked, approaching slowly from behind. Having a heart-to-heart with Sophie Jaegar was a little like inviting a grizzly to a walleye dinner.

“I just . . .” The girl shook her head as she led Evie past Casie into the barn. Once there, she slid the leather reins through the metal rings at the top of the padded leather band that encircled the mare's girth. It was an odd, makeshift system, but necessity was often the mother of crazy inventiveness. “I guess Dad's going to Saint Thomas next week.” Her voice was extremely cavalier. It was unnerving at best.

Casie winced and tread softly. This was tender territory. “So he won't be here for Christmas?”

“He said he'd be back before then. But he won't.” Cavalier had made a sharp turn toward effervescent. God help them. “It's no big deal,” she said and removed the surcingle from the mare's back. “I just wish he had told me before so I could have . . .” She paused.

“What?”

Sophie shrugged. The movement looked stiff. “Maybe I would have gone to Paris after all.”

“Paris,
France?
”

“I guess Mother's going to be there for the holidays,” she said and hung the truncated harness on a hook beside the end box stall.

Casie blinked in amazement. “You had the opportunity to spend Christmas in Paris?”

Sophie scowled as she slipped the bit from the mare's mouth and replaced the bridle with a blue nylon halter. “I've been there before.”

“Really?”

“I was just a kid the last time.”

“I hear it's gorgeous.”

“It's all right.”

“All right?” Casie asked and stroked the mare's butter-bright neck as Sophie hung the bridle next to the surcingle. Three new horse stalls had been added in the past few months, making a total of five.

Evie stood relaxed and content as Sophie tied her to the wall.

“All right?” Casie asked again.

“I flew back with Mother,” she said. “Dad went home alone.” The barn was absolutely quiet for a moment. A cow bellowed. The sound was low and strangely soothing. “They filed for divorce a few days later.”

“Oh.” Geez, love, or whatever it was, seemed more and more like a virus to be avoided at all cost. “I'm sorry.”

“I guess it was supposed to be some kind of second honeymoon or something.”

Casie did her best to hide her wince.

“Someone should have told them not to take their kid along, huh? Or maybe they should have told me not to be such a . . .” She stopped and pulled her gloves back on. Her hands looked stiff and red before disappearing inside the insulated nylon. “Never mind,” she said and fished a dandy brush out of a bucket near the wall. The short, stiff bristles looked hard and aggressive as she scraped them down Evie's neck, but the mare sighed happily and dropped her head.

Casie watched. “It's not your fault,” she said.

Even from behind she could tell the girl was scowling. “I know.”

Finding a currycomb in the same bucket, Casie moved to Evie's off side. The metal teeth dug into the mare's coat. She cocked a contented hip.

“Do you?” Casie asked.

Their gazes met over the top of the horse's golden withers. For a second Sophie said nothing, then, “This is going to be hard to believe. . . .” She pursed her lips. “But I haven't always been the jolly little elf I am now.”

Maybe it wasn't appropriate to laugh, but Casie did so nevertheless. “No one's happy all the time, Soph.”

“You are.”

Her laughter turned to a kind of snort. “Are you kidding me?”

Sophie had returned her attention to the palomino. “Maybe not happy. Maybe just . . .” She gritted her teeth for a second as if the very idea made her angry.
“Nice.”

“I'm not always nice.”

Sophie exhaled her discontent. “Give me a for-instance.”

“For instance whenever Dickie . . .” She paused, not really knowing why he put her back up. “Whenever
Dickenson
is around.”

Sophie stared at her a second, then nodded solemnly. “I love that.”

“What?” She paused in her currying for a second.

“When you snipe at him. It almost makes me feel normal.”

Casie laughed again. “You
are
normal.”

“Name one other kid whose parents have both run away from home.” Sophie stared at her with solemn, haunted eyes.

Anger or something like it sprinted through Casie's system. Sophie's dad was handsome, congenial, and intelligent. Turned out he was also a pretty poor father. Unfortunately, he seemed to be the
good
parent. The girl's mother had never so much as shown her face on the Lazy.

“That's not your fault, either,” Casie said.

“You know . . .” Sophie paused for a second, tilting the brush away from the mare's hip. Evie glanced back accusingly. “I really think it is.”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah,” she said and began brushing again, face a quiet mask of concentration.

“So your parents . . .” Casie shrugged, treading lightly, though the anger still sat like a lead weight on her chest. “They adored each other, did they?”

“Yes.” The answer was flippant. Casie waited. Sophie could be dramatic and aggressive, but she was almost always honest. It was one of the scariest things about her. “They must have.” A muscle jumped in the girl's jaw. “Why would they have gotten married otherwise?”

“So let me get this straight. . . .” Casie drew a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “You think that they were crazy in love. Ecstatic in each other's company. Then you come along, and bam . . . suddenly they can't stand the sight of each other.”

Sophie's gaze never shifted from the mare.

Her downcast eyes somehow made Casie even angrier, and since she didn't have the parents upon which to cast her rage, she flung it wide. “They probably were lovey-dovey all the time. Cooing and laughing and tickling each other.”

Sophie glared at her. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“
Ridiculous?
Soph . . .” She paused. “Some couples are actually like that.”

“That's disgusting.”

“No, it's not disgusting. It's . . . Okay,” she said, remembering the squirmy discomfort she felt around blatant acts of . . . anything. “The tickling would be kind of weird. But there are actually couples out there who enjoy each other's company . . . forever.”

“What kind of fairy tales have
you
been reading?”

Casie laughed. “I'm telling you, Soph, some people's parents really like each other.”

“Did yours?” The question was a challenge.

Both of them had stopped brushing now. Evie squared up on all fours and huffed her discontent.

“Mine were . . .” Casie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. She'd spent a good deal of time trying to figure out what her parents were. Definitely not lovey-dovey. Her father had been stoic and hard. It was strange that while Casie had wanted quite desperately to be like her fun-loving mother, in hindsight, it seemed that she had put a good deal of effort into attaining the stubborn stoicism of her paternal side. “Sometimes they fought,” she said.