Summer at Mustang Ridge (21 page)

Foster had the sense to look a little embarrassed. “You okay with him coming? He’s clean. Just, well, shedding. But the stuff that’s falling off is clean.”

She laughed helplessly, not quite sure how this had gone from a walk of shame to a family outing, but glad that it had. “Why not? The more the merrier.”

So they pulled on their boots, piled in her Subaru, and made the short drive out to the main road, across the front of the ranch’s spread, and down the long driveway to the main house and the cabins beyond. It was strange to see the blazing lights after a week of fires and lanterns, stranger still to have him sitting beside her in the little car, with Vader panting in the backseat.

“We’re here,” she said needlessly, and yanked too hard on the parking brake. She fumbled with her belt as Foster got out, then swung open her door, nearly nailing him with it. She flushed, realizing he’d come around to open it for her. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not used to . . . well, you know.”

His quiet smile made things a little better. “At least let me get the cabin door.”

“It’s not locked.”

He held her hand for the walk up the short flight of stairs, and opened the door with a flourish. “My lady. Your chamber awaits you.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” She started to sail on through, but then stalled at the sight of the empty cabin, lit by only a night-light, with Lizzie’s iPad charging in the corner and her pink sweatshirt tossed on the bed. After a week in a tent, it should’ve looked like heaven. Instead, the sight brought a spurt of panic.

“You okay?” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

She covered his hand with her own, but didn’t answer. It wasn’t his problem that it occurred to her at odd times that Lizzie wasn’t always going to want to be with her. Mute or not, she would grow up, go to school, move on. And it wasn’t his problem that she had started mentally decorating his kitchen, and freaked herself out.

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” she said, hoping he would let her get away with it.

He nodded. “I’ll swing by the barn and check on the girls. You go on inside and get some rest. Vader? In you go.” At his gesture, the dog came up the steps and padded through the open door.

“But—” She broke off the automatic protest, realizing that he had known. Somehow, he had known she needed company, and needed it to be uncomplicated. And, as usual, he had fixed the problem without fanfare.

“It’d make me feel better, knowing he was here with you,” he said simply. Then he leaned in and kissed her, a light brush of lips that lingered and deepened, and brought a musky hint of their mingled flavors. Along with a buzz of the heat they had so recently made together, and an echo of
wow
. Voice low and sexy, he said, “Sleep well, Shelby-sweet, and dream of me. I know I’ll be dreaming of you.”

She didn’t say anything, just lifted a hand and pressed it to her lips, overwhelmed. He seemed to understand, though, because he smiled crookedly, tipped his hat, and walked off, whistling into the darkness.

She watched him go, watched until the whistle faded away and she couldn’t see his silhouette anymore in the distant lights of the barn. Then, suddenly feeling the chill through her thin shirt, she shivered a little and went into her cabin, which would’ve felt empty if it hadn’t been for the black and white dog curled at the foot of her bed, cheerfully shedding on the wedding-ring quilt.

•   •   •

The following day was a more chaotic changeover Saturday than usual, which was surprising given that the guests were all veterans and knew the routine. But a lost wallet, an unexpected food allergy, and a lost EpiPen meant there wasn’t a second for Shelby to get caught up in whatever she was feeling toward Foster. Which might have been for the best, since she didn’t know whether that was well loved, awkward, or anywhere in between, and the inner Ping-Pong jangled her nerves. Finally, though, the airport shuttle pulled out, giving her a quiet moment to pause outside the kitchen’s back door for a second and breathe.

Except that once she had the space to take a step back and think about last night, she realized she didn’t need the time or space, not really. First, because she’d been thinking about things on and off—mostly on—for the past twelve hours or so regardless of what was going on around her, and second, because despite her brief moment of panic, she didn’t regret what she’d done. In fact, she was proud of taking something for herself for a change.

I have a lover,
she thought, and found that the concept fit better than she would’ve expected. “I’m having a summer fling with an incredible man.” She said it out loud this time, and the statement put a flutter in her belly and a smile in her heart.

“Well, somebody looks happy this morning.” Krista let the kitchen door bang closed behind her as she came down the kitchen stairs.

“I . . . uh . . . hmm.” Shelby didn’t quite blush, but it was a close call. “I’m glad the shuttle got off okay, and grateful for a couple of hours of peace and quiet. It’s such a pretty day, too. Not a cloud in the sky.”

Krista rolled her eyes. “The weather. Right. Silly me, I thought the goofy grin and the cartoon tweety birds fluttering around your head might have something to do with Foster. Rumor has it you were kid free last night.”

“Um . . .”

“I’m not angling for details. Just wanted to say that I’m happy for you both, and I’m here if you want to talk about it, or about anything. With or without brownie sundaes involved.”

Shelby exhaled, only then realizing she’d been holding her breath. “Thanks. I mean it. Foster and I are . . . Well, I’m not sure what we are, but I know I’m happy about it, and I think he is, too.” Unless he’d had second thoughts after she left last night?

“Trust me, he’s happy. I heard him whistling this morning while he picked a bunch of burrs out of Justice’s tail. And he
hates
picking burrs.”

“Well, then.” She was grinning like an idiot and didn’t care.

“He and Lizzie are out by the corrals behind the barn,” Krista said, with a thumb jerk in that direction. “They’re giving Lucky his first baby leading lesson.”

“Uh-oh. I hope she’s not giving him any attitude.”

Though there seemed to be less danger of that now. The foal watch had been a bust, with Princess hanging on to her baby for one more night, but Lizzie had shown up at breakfast with a big smile and a chorus of whistle chirps, conveying that she’d had fun and behaved herself, and wanted to do it again tonight. Whatever had been bothering her, it didn’t seem to have been her mom’s blossoming romance. And that was a huge relief.

“Go on.” Krista nudged her in the direction of the barn. “You know you want to watch. Trust me, there’s not much cuter than a kid and a cowboy working with a baby horse.”

Yes, this was her life, Shelby thought. And that was her lover they were talking about. “I’m on my way. Catch you later?”

“Count on it. And, Shelby? Have fun.”

“I will.”
I am
. And wasn’t that a wonderful thing?

She wasn’t sure her feet hit the ground the whole way down to the barn, where Foster stood in Sassy’s paddock near Lucky, running a lead through his hands while the foal watched with his ears flipped forward and an intrigued expression that seemed to say, “Is it good to eat? Is it a toy? What is it?” Lizzie, rapt, leaned on the railing outside the broodmare’s paddock. Sassy stood nearby, content to let Foster work with her foal.

He seemed totally dialed into the little guy, but as Shelby came around the corner, his hat tipped up and his eyes went right to her, as if he’d been waiting for her. She missed a step, but kept coming, feeling like her goofy smile was suddenly lit from within.
Don’t overdo it,
she told herself. This wasn’t happily-ever-after territory, after all.

But it was happily—very happily—for now.

“Hey there,” he said, but his eyes said way more than that. They said,
I was hoping you’d come. Are you okay?

“Hey yourself.”
I’m good. I’m great.

“The bus leave?”
I’m glad you’re here.

“Finally.”
I wanted to see you
. She included Lizzie in her smile and got a gap-toothed grin in response. “How’s leading practice coming?”

“We’re just getting started.” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Stay and watch?”

“I’d like that.” It was that easy, she realized, that simple when new lovers were on the same page.

He nodded, satisfied, and he turned back to Lucky, in a move that Lizzie shadowed half a second behind him, putting a lump in Shelby’s throat. There was such a contrast between his weathered confidence and her wide-eyed determination, between his battered black hat and her pink pony helmet, yet they were both utterly focused on the animals.

“Okay, here’s what we’re starting with,” Foster said, crouching down by Lucky and scratching the itchy spot at the base of his mane, in a move that was pretty much guaranteed to get the little horse to stand still and crane his neck, wiggling his little nose in ecstasy. “He’s been wearing his foal halter all along, so that shouldn’t be an issue. And he’s used to seeing his mom being led around while he follows loose. What we want to introduce now is the idea of him taking information from a lead rope clipped to his halter.”

Lucky lost interest in getting scratched, craned around, and took a nip at Foster’s sleeve. He got an “Ah-ah” in the cowboy’s deep, warning growl, and subsided, looking suddenly angelic.

Shelby smothered a laugh. Foster shot her a wink. “He keeps this up and little Lucky Bugg is going to find himself nicknamed Bugger instead of Lucky.” To Lizzie, he said, “We’re going to use a butt rope to nudge him along.” He demonstrated by clipping a long, soft cotton rope underneath Lucky’s chin, looping it around his body and under his tail, and then back around, so Foster could pull on the lead and tail rope at the same time, urging the young horse to take a few steps with a rope push from behind. “Okay, here we go. But first, which way are we going to lead him?”

Lizzie hesitated, then pointed to Sassy.

“Yep, that’s exactly right. We’re going to lead him in the direction he’s going to want to go. That way, he’s likely to do the right thing, and then we can praise him all over and back for being a good boy. Especially when we’re starting off, we want to set him up to succeed.”

Which, it turned out, was easier said than done. Foster’s first attempt to lead Lucky went fine until he actually pulled on the butt rope, at which point the little guy squealed, humped his back, and went into a series of stiff-legged little bucks, just like the little wild foals had done.

Rather than standing back and waiting until he settled, though, Foster just guided the squiggles in the direction he wanted, while ignoring the goofiness. When they reached Sassy, he gave the foal a couple of pats. Then he looked at Lizzie. “Ready?”

To Shelby’s surprise, her daughter slipped through the fence, grabbed Sassy’s halter, and marched the mare to the other end of the paddock. Then she slipped back through the fence.

“Good job,” Foster said, nodding as though he hadn’t expected anything different. “Okay, let’s try that again.”

Good job?
Shelby wanted to stand up and cheer, Snoopy-dance, heck, do the macarena, the robot, and the hokey pokey all at once, even though she’d be running the risk of spraining something. Instead, she grinned broadly and made herself stay put on her muck bucket as Foster and the foal wiggled their way to the other end of the paddock. Set yourself up for success, indeed. She wasn’t sure if this was really the way he would normally have taught a foal, but by the fourth pass, Lizzie was staying in the paddock with Sassy, standing with a hand on the mare’s shoulder. And Shelby had gotten over being all misty-eyed.

This was real. It was happening. The little girl who’d spent the first week hunkered in the corner of the kitchen with her hoodie pulled up, watching whisper-quiet movies on her iPad, had blossomed into a tan, pink-helmeted kid who made “come on, you can do it!” faces as Lucky came toward her.

Shelby’s heart wobbled in her chest. And as man and child high-fived—gently, so as not to scare the horses—she let out a soft sigh.
Mine,
she thought, watching the two of them together.
They’re mine
.

“That’s good for today,” Foster decided after the sixth pass, when Lucky marched from one end of the pen to the other like a pro. “We don’t want him to start thinking this feels too much like work. So now we make it fun again. Come here. I’ll show you.”

Shelby held her breath as he coached Lizzie through unclipping the lead, bundling it up in her hands, and using it to rub the foal all over his body, getting him used to the feel, and then ending with a good scratch. Lucky, bless him, didn’t move an inch. He just stood there, making joyful faces as she found his itchy spots.

“Finally, let’s give Mama a treat”—Foster produced a small piece of carrot from a pocket—“and we’ll call it a success.”

“Does that mean you’re ready for me?” Stace called from the barn.

Foster looked up in surprise. “Ready for what?”

Lizzie, though, straightened and blew a chirp on her whistle. She gave Sassy the carrot and slipped back through the fence, then stood there for a moment, took a deep breath, and beckoned a “come on” to Stace, who was still standing just inside the barn.