Her Cowboy Soldier (10 page)

“No!”

Her face flushed, and the hurt look in her eyes made him feel sick. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. Give me credit for having some judgment.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry I came down so hard on you about the prom story, too. You’re just doing your job and I need to accept that.”

“I’m not your enemy.” She rested her hand on his shoulder—a light touch, but he felt the weight of it seeping into him, brushing against a vulnerability he kept locked tightly away.

“I know.”

He felt such a connection with her, an attraction he had to fight—she’d made it clear she didn’t intend to stay in Hartland, and now that he’d finally made it home he was here to stay. So he wouldn’t get too close. He wasn’t sure if he could be friends with her and not make it mean more.

CHAPTER SEVEN

H
EAD
FULL
OF
the afternoon’s events, Amy was greeted at the door to her grandmother’s home by an ecstatic Chloe.

“We have a puppy!” the little girl shouted, then ran to embrace a squirmy ball of fluff. The pup licked her daughter’s face, then gamboled away, Chloe in pursuit.

“Neal gave it to me,” Bobbie said, before Amy could ask. “I used to have a dog like it once, and it was good company. And I thought Chloe might like the pup.”

Girl and puppy rolled together on the rug, then lay side by side, panting. Chloe wore an expression of pure joy. “Obviously she does,” Amy said.

“They’re pretty cute together.” Bobbie carefully lowered herself into her favorite recliner.

Amy left her bag on the table by the door and took her usual place on the sofa. “What kind of dog is it?”

“Neal called it a heeler-hound cross, but really it’s just a mutt. He saw it at the shelter, where he was doing some carpentry work, and thought it would make a good companion.”

Child and dog had apparently fallen asleep where they lay, the girl curled protectively around the pup. It would have made a darling picture, but Amy feared if she tried to retrieve her camera from across the room she’d disturb them and spoil the shot. “I never had a dog before,” she said. Her family’s nomadic lifestyle hadn’t allowed for pets.

“Time you did, then.”

“His name is General.” Chloe opened her eyes and sat up. “Because Mr. Neal said he was a general sort of dog.”

Amy laughed. “Then I guess the name suits him.”

“Chloe’s going to help me take care of General,” Bobbie said.

“I can feed him and walk him, and I have to teach him to go potty outside.”

“That’s good.” But what was going to happen when it came time for Amy and Chloe to move away? Had Bobbie seen this as a furry roadblock to their leaving?

“How was the science fair?” Bobbie asked.

“Science bee. It was great. Our teams took second and third place, even though it was only their first year to compete. Josh is hoping they can do it again next year.”

“So you had a good time today.”

“I did. Though those kids are smarter than I ever was, at least when it comes to science.”

“Maybe if you’d had a teacher who made the subject as interesting as Josh does, you’d know more. Homeschooling can be good, but you miss out on things like that.”

“My father was not the most patient science and math teacher,” Amy admitted. Her dad much preferred guiding tourists through the jungle or rafting wild rivers than sitting at a table drilling his daughter on the periodic table. “But, I got to see a total eclipse in Argentina, and opal mines in Australia and penguins in Antarctica, so you can’t say my education was lacking.”

“No, I’d never say that. Still, the children in Josh’s class will always remember today—and not just what they learned in class, but the friends they made and the fun they had together.”

Chloe, clearly bored with the adults’ conversation, stood. “Come on, General, let’s go outside,” she said. “You have to go potty.”

The dog obediently trotted after her to the door. When she was gone, Amy turned to her grandmother. “Something upsetting happened when we got back to school this afternoon. Gerry Wilson was there, waiting for his son, Chase. He was drunk, and he practically attacked Josh. He thinks Josh influenced Chase to enlist in the military.”

“Gerry’s had problems with alcohol for a while now,” Bobbie said. “His father was the same way. Families are good for a lot of things, but not when they pass along their problems to their children. It might be good for Chase to join the military—get away from here for a while.”

“Maybe. But what if he’s hurt—like Josh? Or killed?” She didn’t add “like Brent.” There was no need.

“That would be a tragedy. But Josh has done well for himself. You didn’t know him before he went away, but he had a pretty hot temper. He’d jump to conclusions and act without thinking. The war and everything he went through matured him. Made him more thoughtful. It’s probably one of the reasons he’s so good with the kids.”

“He still jumps to conclusions about me,” Amy said.

Bobbie smiled. “Most men don’t act completely rational around women,” she said. “Especially women they’re attracted to.”

Amy’s cheeks burned. “Josh is not attracted to me. He doesn’t even like me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

She was not going to argue with her grandmother about Josh; she knew the truth, even if Bobbie refused to see it. Instead, she sought to change the subject. “You’re not using your walker,” she said.

“No, and I’m glad to be rid of the awkward contraption. I still have to use a cane sometimes, but at least I can maneuver through the greenhouses without bumping into things.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to help you more,” Amy said. “The job at the paper is only supposed to be part-time, but Ed keeps coming up with things for me to do.”

“And I know you love writing a lot more than you do farming.” Bobbie waved away any protest Amy might have made. “You’ve been a big help. The truth is, this place is just too big for a couple of women and some hired hands. It’s probably time I cut back some. Slowed down a little.”

Her shoulders slumped as she spoke, and it was as if she’d removed a mask. Suddenly she looked smaller. Old and tired. Amy tried to hide her dismay. “Maybe you could hire more help or...”

“More help costs too much. No, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Maybe it’s time for me to retire and do something besides tend greenhouses and apple trees. I might like to travel before I’m too old to get around.”

Grandma—travel? Amy wrestled with this new idea. As far as she knew, Bobbie had never taken more than the occasional trip to Montana to visit her sister. She’d remained rooted here in Hartland, while her daughter and son-in-law and granddaughter traipsed the globe. She was the one fixed point in Amy’s otherwise turbulent world. “I guess that would be nice for you,” she said weakly.

“Don’t look so shocked, child. I didn’t say I was leaving tomorrow. I haven’t made up my mind yet. But remember—you don’t have to live the same way your whole life. A little change can be a good thing—or a lot of change, even, depending on your circumstances.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Let’s go see what Chloe and that puppy are up to. She’s already trying to talk me into letting it sleep in the bed with her. I told her I didn’t believe in that, but she’s mighty stubborn. Gets it from her mother, I imagine.”

“I imagine so. Or her great-grandmother.” Amy took Bobbie’s arm to help her down the front steps, and the older woman didn’t resist. There was a time not too long ago when she’d have fought off the help, and the implication that she was weak. Her easy acceptance now unsettled Amy. Grandma might say that change was a good thing, but Amy knew the best way to deal with change was to have an anchor to hold on to while everything swirled around you. Bobbie and Hartland had always been Amy’s anchor, the closest thing she’d ever known to a real home. She didn’t want to imagine life without them there to come back to whenever she needed peace and comfort.

* * *

A
S
THE
END
of the school year neared and temperatures climbed, Amy worked long hours in the greenhouses, dealing with the abundant new vegetables. In the orchards, apple blossoms had given way to growing fruit, which had to be thinned by hand in a process that required stripping off half of the baby apples to allow the remaining fruit to grow larger. Amy spent hours standing on ladders with Neal and the high school kids they’d hired to help, while Bobbie directed activities from the ground. Chloe and General scampered among the rows, playing with sticks and the discarded marble-sized apples.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you here to help,” Bobbie said more than once, as they finished up the final day of thinning.

“I can think of worse ways to spend a day than working in an orchard,” Amy said. “And all that climbing and reaching and plucking is a great workout.”

“In my day we just called it work,” Bobbie said. “But you might be on to something. I could call it the apple orchard workout and charge people to come do the thinning for me.”

“Get a celebrity endorsement and you’re on your way,” Amy said.

“We’re pretty short on celebrities here in Hartland, so I guess I’ll make do the way I’ve always done.”

When Amy wasn’t working at the farm, Ed sent her out to cover a sudden flurry of community activities, from store openings to women’s club scholarship ceremonies. On the Tuesday before graduation, she arrived at the school for the dedication of the new garden.

“I’m so glad you could be here.” Erica—who’d decided to abandon the name change to Love Soldier—greeted Amy in the parking lot beside the former storage area. A crowd of parents, teachers and townspeople had gathered for the dedication.

“You’ve really transformed this space,” Amy said. In place of the packed dirt lot stood rows of brick raised beds filled with fledgling lettuce, beans, tomatoes and other vegetables. “It looks beautiful.”

“The kids and their parents did such a great job,” Erica said. “But Josh was the real hero. He built the water collection and irrigation system for us—and got ranchers he knew to donate almost everything we needed.” She led Amy to a covered metal tank that stood at one corner of the school building. Plastic piping extended from the tank to the garden. Erica was showing Amy how the valves allowed water to flow into the garden as needed when Josh arrived.

“Hello, Amy. Erica.” He nodded to the women. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No, you’re right on time,” Erica said. “Amy’s going to write about the garden for the paper. I know she’d want to talk to you about your contribution.”

He eyed Amy warily. She could almost read his thoughts—he’d had enough of being in the paper, especially in any article
she’d
written.

“It’s just a basic, gravity-flow collection system that uses rainwater from the school’s roof,” he said, his face devoid of emotion.

“Can I quote you on that?” she teased, but the school principal interrupted before she could gauge Josh’s reaction.

“It’s time for the ribbon cutting!” the principal announced from his position behind a wide yellow ribbon stretched across the beds.

Erica fished a pair of scissors from the pockets of her voluminous skirts and approached the ribbon. “Is everyone ready?” she asked.

A cheer went up from the onlookers. Amy snapped a photo as Erica cut the ribbon, and people swarmed over to offer congratulations and admire the planting beds.

“Some people call Erica a tree-hugging flake, but she actually does a lot of good.” Josh spoke from beside Amy.

“Turning wasted space into a garden was definitely a good idea,” Amy said. “Everything looks great. She says you were a big help.” She nudged him with her elbow. “You can at least admit that without worrying I’m going to make you look bad in the paper.”

Some of the stiffness went out of his spine, and he had the grace to look sheepish. “It was fun to use some of the things I learned when I was studying agriculture. Did you work on any water projects with the Peace Corps?”

“I mostly taught hygiene to women and children. Brent helped dig waterlines from a reservoir in the mountains. I read about some other projects for collecting water in Africa, though.”

“You should have said something. You probably had ideas we could use.”

She’d never thought of pitching in to help with the project. “I guess I didn’t feel it was my place.”

“Your place? Didn’t you see the announcement in your paper asking for community volunteers?”

Maybe that was the problem—she didn’t see herself as part of the community. She still thought of herself as an outsider—a temporary visitor.

“Hello, Amy. Is it a slow day for news?”

Rick Southerland joined them, wearing his usual pinched expression.

“Hello, Rick,” Amy said. “Ed says everything that happens in Hartland is news to our readers.”

“If you really want a news story, you should ask how much the district spent on this project.” He waved his hand toward the garden beds and irrigation system. “Whatever it was, it was a waste of money.”

“Relax, Rick,” Josh said. “Everything was donated by people in the community, including our time.”

“It was a waste of time,” Rick said. “It’s not as if anyone is going to grow enough vegetables here to save money on the cafeteria budget, and when the novelty wears off the district will be stuck taking care of all this.”

Amy wanted to ask him if he was always this cheerful and optimistic, but sarcasm would only antagonize him. “Is your wife with you this afternoon?” she asked. “I’d love to meet her.” If Rick’s wife losing her job was at the root of his bad attitude, Amy was curious to get her perspective.

“She has a new job in Junction. She leaves early and comes home late.”

“Oh. Well, perhaps I’ll meet her some other time.”

“What’s she doing in Junction?” Josh asked.

Rick glared, and Amy thought he wouldn’t answer, but after an awkward silence he said. “Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s working for a lawyer there, managing his office.”

“I imagine that pays better than the teacher’s aide job she had here,” Amy said.

“The aide job allowed her to be here for our son. Now he has to be in day care after school, until I can pick him up. None of us are happy about that.”

Rick struck Amy as the type of person who was never really happy. “Perhaps she’ll find something local soon.”

Rick said nothing, but continued to scowl at Josh. “Give it a rest, Rick,” Josh said. “I’m not responsible for your wife losing her job, and stopping spending on everything you consider nonessential isn’t going to get the job back. Time to move on.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Rick said. He bunched his hands into fists, and for a second Amy thought he might take a swing at Josh. She stepped back, but held her camera at the ready. She wasn’t too worried about Josh’s ability to defend himself—though he and Rick were the same height, Josh definitely looked stronger, and he’d probably learned a few moves in the military.