Whenever You Come Around (6 page)

“No. Not a thing. You’ve done enough.”

“Glad to help.”

“Come on in, if you’ve got the time.”

Chet pulled open the screen door. “I’ve got time.”

Buck knew better. A rancher never had enough time. But Chet was the sort of man who put others first. Just one reason folks in Kings Meadow respected him.

“It’s getting close to suppertime. Want me to get you something to eat?”

Before Buck could answer, his stomach growled. Both men laughed at the sound.

“I guess I could eat something. There’re casseroles in the fridge. Whatever’s easiest to reach will suit me.” He rolled the scooter to the table and shifted onto a chair. He was getting better at that too.

Chet opened the refrigerator. “Did Ken tell you a bunch of the guys put together a schedule? We’ll take turns coming over to feed the horses and anything else you need done until those casts come off. Somebody in the morning. Somebody in late afternoon or early evening.”

“Yeah. Ken told me. He called earlier today with the information. I sure appreciate it. Wish I didn’t have to ask.”

“It isn’t like you haven’t helped others when they were in a bind.” Chet put a plate with food on it into the microwave. He studied the keypad for a few moments, then punched in the time and pressed Start. While he waited for the food to get hot, he turned toward Buck again. “Seems to me, sometimes God wants us to learn the lesson of how to accept the generosity of others.” He looked meaningfully at Buck. “It’s a hard lesson for some of us.”

Buck nodded.

Chet leaned his backside against the counter. “You’ve made some nice improvements to the outbuildings. I was out here once before you bought the place and saw the condition they were in.”

“Haven’t done all that much. But the horses will have better shelter come next winter.”

“Maybe you did more than you think.” The microwave dinged, and Chet turned to remove the plate of food. He was taking a knife and fork from the drawer when a knock sounded at the front door. “You eat. I’ll see who it is.” He set the plate on the table in front of Buck and walked to the living room. A few moments later, he returned alone.

“Who was it?”

“Charity Anderson. I hardly recognized her.”

“Yeah, she’s changed a lot since I saw her last. But that’s been years.”

“No, it was more than that. She seemed upset. Looked to me like she’d been crying.”

Buck shifted on his chair. “Did she say what was wrong?”

“Nope. Just asked if you needed her to fix you dinner. I told her you were eating already. She said to tell you that she’ll check in with you tomorrow morning.”

Buck frowned. It had been a good eight hours since she’d left his place. She hadn’t been any too pleased with him, but he hadn’t done or said anything that would make her cry, especially not all this while later. Had he?

He gave his head a shake. He’d only spoken the truth. Her parents were hurt that she almost never came to see them. Buck didn’t even know the Andersons all that well, and even
he’d picked up on their feelings. They were good people. They deserved better from their youngest daughter.

“Your food’s getting cold,” Chet said, intruding on his thoughts.

“Yeah.” He awkwardly speared some elbow macaroni with the fork in his left hand and brought it to his mouth. After swallowing, he said, “Thanks for warming it up. Now you’d better get home before your own dinner gets cold.”

Chet chuckled. “You’re right. I’d better.” He turned to leave.

“Hey. I almost forgot. I finished that saddle you ordered. It’s over at Antton’s shop. You can get it anytime you want.”

His friend’s face brightened. “That’s great news. Thanks.”

Buck held up his right hand. “I won’t be able to finish the bridle until this thing comes off.”

“Don’t worry about that. Kimberly will love the bridle whenever I give it to her.” Chet waved and let himself out.

“Kimberly will love the bridle whenever I give it to her.”

For some reason Chet’s parting comment stayed with Buck as he ate his solitary meal in his solitary house.

Chapter 5

B
Y THE NEXT DAY
, B
UCK
’
S
ONE-HANDED SCOOTER
skills had improved noticeably. Leaving the house unaided was still impossible and driving was out of the question until both casts came off. Cabin fever might become a problem before then, but it was manageable for now.

He was rolling his way into the living room when he heard the sound of a car door. He went to the window and saw his nieces and nephew as they hopped out of the back of their dad’s minivan. His sister-in-law, Sara, was a little slower to disembark. Ken took her arm as they walked toward the front door, his other arm around her back. There was great tenderness in the gesture, and seeing it tugged at Buck’s heart. It reminded him, more than a little, of his parents, back before the cancer.

Which also reminded him of the primary reason he preferred to stay single. It was dangerous to love. The heartache was too great when loss followed—and loss followed all
too often. He couldn’t help loving his family members. He couldn’t help caring about his close friends. But he could protect himself from the kind of pain his mom had gone through after his dad died.

Ten-year-old Jake barged into the house without knocking. “Hey, Uncle Buck.”

“Hey, Jake.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better today. Thanks.”

His nieces, Krista and Sharon, entered next. Thirteen and twelve respectively, they were in an interesting phase—one that was foreign to their uncle. Not all that long ago they’d idolized Buck, but he’d somehow become antiquated in their eyes. He was thirty years old and over the hill. Wasn’t that a bad joke from the seventies?

“Afternoon, girls,” he said, trying to force interaction.

They mumbled some sort of response in unison before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Good to see you too.” He grinned.

His brother and sister-in-law came through the open doorway at last, Sara moving awkwardly, more waddle than walk. She came straight to Buck and kissed his unshaven cheek. Then she rubbed her fingertips over the growth of facial hair. “This is new.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“Not especially.”

He held up his right hand, showing her the cast. “Can’t manage a razor. I’m afraid I’d cut my throat if I tried it left-handed.”

“Mmm.”

Ken said, “You’re looking a lot better.”

“Feel better too. And I’m getting the hang of this thing.” He patted the handlebar on the scooter. “Great invention. I’d be in a lot of trouble without it.”

Ken helped Sara ease herself down onto a chair. “The kids and I are going out to see to the chores. Anything special you want us to take care of?”

Buck shook his head.

“Jake. Girls. Come on. We need to feed and water the horses.”

“
Dad
,” Sharon and Krista said in identical whines. But they got up from the chairs at the kitchen table and followed their father and brother out the back door.

Buck sat on the sofa and propped his leg, mindful of the doctor’s instructions to keep it elevated as much as possible. “I’m surprised you came over with Ken. I thought you were on bed rest.”

“I am, most of the time. But I didn’t think a little outing would be amiss as long as I’m careful. I’m more tired from doing nothing and going nowhere than anything else.”

“I can relate to that.” Buck didn’t say it aloud, but strain was stamped across Sara’s face. No wonder Ken was concerned. “How much longer have you got?”

“Six weeks, if I can hold out that long. The baby’s on the small side, so every day I don’t go into labor matters.”

“Wish I could do something to help.”

Sara offered a grateful smile. “With any luck, you’ll be out of those casts before our little one arrives.”

“You still don’t know the sex?”

“Ken knows, but I won’t let him or the doctor tell me or anyone else. I like to be surprised.” She shrugged. “Sounds very old-fashioned, I suppose.”

“No. I think I understand.”

They fell into an easy silence, neither of them feeling compelled to talk just for the sake of talking. A benefit of having known each other for a quarter of a century or more. After a short while, Sara closed her eyes and seemed to relax into the quiet. She didn’t get to enjoy it for long. The telephone rang, and Buck grabbed for it, although Sara’s eyes were already open again.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Buck. It’s Charity.”

“Good morning.”

“Sorry I’m late checking in. I see that you’ve got company. Do you need me to come over and get your breakfast?”

He opened his mouth to say she didn’t have to come, then thought better of it. “I’d appreciate it if you could. Ken’s here feeding the horses so he’s kind of busy. And Sara’s a little off her game.”

“Sara? Isn’t she supposed to be on bed rest?”

“That’s exactly what I asked her.” He shot a pointed look in his sister-in-law’s direction.

Sara stuck out her tongue in return.

“I’ll be right over,” Charity said. “Do you care if I bring Cocoa with me? I can leave her on your doorstep.”

“Don’t mind if she comes in. It’s about time she and I met, don’t you think? Just come on in when you get here. Door’s open.”

C
HARITY PUSHED THE
E
ND
BUTTON AND SET DOWN
the phone. “Time for me to check on the patient next door, Cocoa. Want to come along this time?”

Anticipating an outing, the dog raced from the room.

“Well, I guess that answers that.” Charity smiled—grateful for a pet that could make her do so.

A short while later, she and Cocoa stood on Buck’s stoop. She rapped softly before opening the door. Buck was on the sofa, leg elevated. Sara Malone was in a nearby chair.

“Sit, Cocoa,” Charity commanded. Then she walked over to the chair. As she bent down to kiss Sara’s cheek, she asked, “How’re you doing?”

“Not bad.” Sara smiled briefly.

It didn’t look to Charity as if she was telling the truth. There were dark smudges under the other woman’s eyes and her face looked drawn.

“It’s good to see you, Charity. It’s always so long between times.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad you’re here for the summer. You know we’ve got a big all-class reunion coming up.”

“Yeah. I got the letter about it.”

“Well, you won’t have an excuse to miss this one.”

Does Jon still come to the reunions?
The thought sent a shudder running down her spine. She didn’t want to think about him. Her outing yesterday had stirred up too many unwelcome feelings. Another day of the same would be unbearable.

Charity looked toward Buck, whose eyes had narrowed thoughtfully as he watched the conversation. “Anything special you want to eat?”

“Whatever’s easy,” he answered.

But there was something in his gaze that made her think he could see her secrets. The feeling of transparency made her anxious. With a jerky nod, she swung around and went into the kitchen.

From the living room, she heard Buck say, “Come, Cocoa. Come here, girl. Let’s you and me officially meet.” Knowing she would have to give the command to release Cocoa before the dog would move, she turned.

Only she was wrong. Cocoa was already headed toward the sofa, toenails clicking on the wood floor.

When Cocoa reached him, Buck cupped the dog’s muzzle with his good hand and looked her straight in the eyes. “So you’re the one who caused all of this.”

Cocoa wagged her tail, as if accepting a compliment.

“Maybe you could try not to do that again. It’s embarrassing to be knocked over in front of a pretty woman.”

What?
It shouldn’t matter that Buck Malone thought her pretty. It
didn’t
matter that he thought so. And yet, for only a moment, a tingle of pleasure replaced her anxiety.

Buck raised his voice while still looking at the dog. “She’s got a strong, powerful head. Smart as a whip, isn’t she?”

Drawn a couple of steps toward the living room, Charity nodded. “She is.”

“I’ll bet she’s got some American Staffordshire terrier in her.”

“Along with several other breeds.”

Buck leaned against the back of the sofa. “My last dog was a border collie. His name was Snap. Had him since the summer after I graduated from high school. He died this spring.
Too late in the season for me to get a puppy. Wouldn’t be old enough to go on the trail with me, and training takes time.” He glanced at his right leg. “Not that that matters now. I won’t be guiding anybody into the backcountry anytime too soon.”

Perhaps sensing she was responsible for the change in Buck’s tone of voice, Cocoa placed her muzzle next to his thigh and looked up at him. Buck laughed softly, a pleasant sound.

Was he as nice as others thought him? Charity wondered. Or was he more like some of his friends? Or one friend in particular?

Don’t. Don’t. Don’t
.

The back screen door slammed shut, and a young boy of about nine or ten darted into the kitchen. When he saw Charity, he screeched to a halt.

“Who’re you?” he demanded Sara had laid her head back in her chair, resting, but at that, she cracked open an eye. “Jake!” Her tone brooked no argument. “Mind your manners.”

“Sorry.”

But Charity wasn’t really listening. As soon as Jake had hit the door, she’d frozen, her heart seizing before stuttering into a painful rhythm as she stared at the boy before her. He was young. About . . .

Ten. He looks like he’s ten. The same as—

No
. She would
not
do this. Ignoring Jake’s quizzical look, she turned away. Her hands shook and she wiped them on her thighs. She would finish what she’d come for and leave. She would keep her emotions hidden.

Buck had said he would eat whatever was easy. That’s exactly what she would give him. Two scrambled eggs, a
piece of buttered toast, and a glass of orange juice. She could prepare that in a matter of minutes.

The back screen door creaked open a second time. When Charity looked to her right, she saw two girls—Sara and Ken’s daughters, obviously. Girls in the process of becoming young women. They mumbled a hello before moving on to the living room. Then their father stepped into view.