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Turning to study the stallion, Jesse shook his head. “Not right now. Later this afternoon.”
“Why was it you turned your back on him? He could’ve hurt you bad.”
Jesse allowed himself a small smile. “I doubt that. Horses are flight animals, not fight animals. They won’t attack unless they’re attacked first. I was just standing there, no threat to him. He was making all the moves.”
“Yeah, but when you going to do something? I mean how long is this going to take, you think?”
Jesse shrugged. “That depends on Remus. He’s in charge of the timetable. I’ve got to get him to trust me before I can help him. No one can predict how long that will take.” With his peripheral vision, he’d seen Vern Martin watching for a short time. “Mr. Martin in a hurry for results? Because if he is, you’ve got the wrong trainer.”
“No, no. I was just wondering.” Casey hoisted up his jeans a notch. “You just take your time, son.” He started walking away, then stopped. “If you need anything, just ask.”
“I will. Thanks.” With one final glance at Remus, Jesse strolled thoughtfully toward his cabin.
No matter how many times he’d worked with damaged horses, especially on their owner’s turf, he always had to justify his methods. Everyone expected a quick fix, as if he had a magic wand. This sort of thing took time. Humans didn’t get over a trauma overnight, so why would they think horses would? It wouldn’t be until they began to see results that they’d finally come around. However, he was used to the reaction so he didn’t take it personally.
At his porch, he heard voices across the wide driveway and turned to see over a dozen children in front of the rainbow-hued schoolhouse playing ring-around-a-rosie in groups of four, led by Abby who was clapping in time to the music from a boom box set under the tree. Jesse sat down on the top step to watch.
It was obvious that the kids were different ages, from toddlers of around two to six and seven-year-olds. He spotted Grace and Katie, both with braided hair today. With the regular schools on summer vacation, there were probably more kids than usual. Yet they all seemed orderly and well behaved despite a few of the younger ones falling down as they twirled around, giggling. Abby had them well in hand.
She had on white shorts today and a loose-fitting pink shirt, her golden hair pulled back in its usual ponytail. The years seemed to vanish as Jesse watched her, thinking she hardly looked a day over the nineteen she’d been when he’d first seen her six years ago down by the big cottonwood tree alongside the stream. She’d been dancing at twilight with an imaginary partner, arms stretched as if holding him, humming a slow tune. Her naturalness, her fresh beauty, had blown him away.
“All fall down!” the children yelled out, then dropped to the ground, laughing. Jesse watched Abby pick up the smallest child—a boy who’d probably barely turned two wearing blue overalls at least a size too big for him—swing him around, then kiss his dark curls before setting him down with the others. She seemed totally at ease with the children, in her element, enjoying them. Jesse felt an unexpected jolt of envy and wondered at its source.
A young girl who looked to be of high-school age came out of the big house carrying a pitcher of red liquid and paper cups. Probably a local teenager helping Abby for the summer, Jesse thought as they both herded the children into the little house. Squinting, he made out the sign above the door. Miss Abby’s Preschool. It would seem Abby’s dreams had come true.
He was about to go in when he heard a low, throaty bark, a shuffle of feet followed by a distinctive whine from the direction of the mess hall. Glancing down the walkway, he saw a big old hound dog headed his way, running in that comical way he remembered.
“Jughead,” Jesse said as the cocoa-brown mixed breed barreled up the steps and into his arms, nearly knocking him over. “How’ve you been, boy?” he asked as the dog proceeded to lick his face.
He’d forgotten about Jughead, the ranch dog that had been a youngster during Jesse’s first visit. Though he’d been friendly to all, Jughead had had a special affinity for Jesse, following him everywhere, even sleeping near his bunk. Missing his own Border collie back home, he’d spent some of his off hours trying to teach Jug some tricks. Like retrieving sticks thrown, or rolling over on command. He’d never learned any. The silly dog couldn’t even swim, always hanging back at the water’s edge, too scared to go in. But he’d been so loyal, so needy of affection since most of the men thought he was too dumb to bother with, that Jesse had sort of adopted him.
And now here he was, proving that dogs never forget. Looking around, Jesse wondered if anyone still here from back then would remember Jug’s devotion to Jesse and figure out his identity. “I think I met one of your sons,” he told Jughead, remembering the brown puppy named Spike. With a final fond scratch behind the dog’s ears, Jesse rose to go inside. He opened the cabin door and Jug scooted in before he could stop him. It wasn’t until he turned that he noticed Abby standing in her schoolhouse doorway, watching him with a thoughtful look on her face.
Resigned to the fact that sooner or later, the truth would come out as it usually did, Jesse followed the dog inside.
Early afternoon and there were half a dozen men lingering behind the horse barn to watch Jesse work with Remus. The word had spread and curiosity had been aroused. Casey had told everyone to use the other door and he’d warned all who came to watch that they had to be quiet. Curly from the store leaned against the barn wall and shaded his face from the hot sun by tipping his hat lower.
Even Vern was there, Casey noted. He’d taken the rancher to meet Jesse just before lunch and heard Vern ask the trainer to explain his methods. Lord knows the boy had tried. He’d said things like “silent communication with horses is far stronger than the spoken word,” and “the horse is an intelligent animal and should be in unison with man, not against him,” and finally “man should cause a horse to want to perform to his wishes.” Neither Vern nor Casey had understood half of what he’d said or meant.
A sudden movement caught Casey’s eye and he noticed Abby slip into the shadows of the barn to watch.
Now Jesse had the simple cotton line around Remus’s neck and had him circling the pen while he stood in the center holding the rope’s end. Round and round Remus went, slowly at first, up to a trot, then slowing down again. Patient as Job, Jesse held the line and steered him, changing directions now and again. After half an hour or so, the men began drifting away, murmuring their disappointment at a show that didn’t pan out. Soon after, shaking his head, Vern strolled off, too. Only Casey remained.
And Abby, who stood silently watching from the shadows, sure he couldn’t see her.
She didn’t know who interested her more, the man or the stallion. She decided there was an uncanny resemblance of this Jesse to the other, but they weren’t the same. This man was infinitely patient, with gentle moves, his gaze focused. The Jesse she’d known had been like a live wire, jumping onto his horse and riding bareback, racing with the wind, eager and enthusiastic. Much like she’d been back then. She doubted that that Jesse could have mellowed this much.
But her heart wasn’t convinced, reacting to seeing this man as if the two were the same. The beard camouflaged the lower half of his face, but it looked as if Jesse Calder also had a square chin hinting at stubbornness. The other Jesse had worn his thick, black hair longer, down to the collar of the denim shirts he’d preferred. This man also wore denim, the sleeves rolled up on muscular arms. And he had on sunglasses, rarely worn by anyone else on the ranch.
Remus looked better than she’d seen him in months. He marched around the pen and didn’t seem to mind the man holding the rope. But he never took his eyes from Jesse, still distrusting, still skittish. Abby knew it would take time getting through to Remus, if at all. This man seemed their only hope. She hated to give up on the stallion, on anyone.
She should go, Abby thought, yet she stood rooted to the spot. She’d left Susie, her teenage assistant, in charge at the little schoolhouse reading a story to the older ones while the younger ones napped. But Abby didn’t like to be away too long. She was about to leave when she saw Jesse step closer to Remus. Immediately, the stallion skittered away. Jesse widened the loop and yanked the line from the horse’s neck, then left the pen.
Abby stayed hidden, but Casey walked over to him. “So, was it a good day?”
Jesse knew he was trying the man’s patience. “Yes, I’d say so.”
“Don’t you get tired, standing out there for hours?”
“Not as tired as Remus is. He’s the one running. I’m just standing there holding the line.”
“So you figure you taught him something today?”
“Sure. He’s familiar with my scent, knows I’m not really afraid of him and he knows I’m patient. A good day’s work.”
“Uh-huh,” Casey answered, sounding unconvinced.
Jesse smiled. “I know you don’t see it yet, but you will.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Listen, I was wondering, is there a horse I could ride once in a while? I usually ride every day at home.” The doctors had also told him he had to stay active, to not let his muscles tighten from nonuse. He’d equipped a gym at the Triple C and did strengthening exercises daily. Already he was thinking that helping Remus was going to take a while so he’d have to improvise.
“Sure ’nuff,” Casey told him. “Domino’s good. Six-year-old quarter horse, black with white markings in the second stall. You’ll find saddles in the tack room. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Checking his watch, Jesse saw that it was still several hours till the dinner bell. Exercise was what he needed, he decided as he walked to the barn.
Abby watched him go. She wished she could take the time to follow him, to see how he rode. The way a person rode a horse was distinctive and often revealing to the practiced eye. No two people rode quite the same way.
Maybe another day, she’d catch up to him, to check him out on horseback and up close. Just to put to rest the vague uneasiness she’d felt since he’d arrived.
Jesse finished cooling down Domino after his ride and left the barn. He’d run across several of the men cutting and clearing dead tree branches and had stopped to help out. Fatigue poured over him like a sudden spring shower. He ached, like he’d known he would, especially his back, but it was nothing a long, hot shower couldn’t fix.
Removing his hat, Jesse wiped his damp face on his shirt-sleeve as he headed for his cabin. A cold drink would hit the spot, preferably a frosty beer. He’d have to get over to Curly’s and stock a six-pack in his small fridge.
Man, it sure was hot! More accustomed to the cooler summers of California, the change was a little hard to get used to. He didn’t think the desert heat had bothered him as much the last time he was here. Another few days and he’d acclimate and…
Jesse stopped short when he noticed a long-legged woman in shorts and a tight top, her auburn hair short and windblown, sitting on the top step of his cabin. She was attractive without question, but in his opinion, she wasn’t even in Abby’s league. He recognized Lindsay and remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know her.
She smiled as she watched him come closer. When he stopped and propped one boot on the bottom step, her lazy brown-eyed gaze swept over him, head to toe, very slowly. “Hi,” she finally said. “I’m Lindsay Martin.”
“Hi, yourself,” Jesse answered cautiously. He vividly remembered the night six years ago when she’d come to his cabin looking for an easy seduction. Her eyes had blazed when he’d politely but firmly turned her down.
“If you’re the new horse trainer, I have an invitation for you.”
“Is that right?” He couldn’t help wondering if she’d recognize his voice or maybe his eyes. Lindsay was smart, but he’d long suspected she also had a mean streak.
“Mm-hmm,” she purred. “Are you Jesse Calder?”
“One and the same.” He saw her smile widen as she uncrossed her spectacular legs and rose to her full height of about five-eight. Jesse had to admit she had a build that could make strong men weak, and she damn well knew it. And used it to her advantage, he’d wager. Unless she’d changed, which it didn’t appear she had.
“We’d like you to come to dinner at the big house,” she said as she slowly descended the stairs. “In about an hour?”
It was not something Jesse wanted to do, to face all the Martins around a dinner table, wondering who would figure out his identity first. He’d wanted to talk with Abby, but alone, not surrounded by her family. This charade had gone on long enough. He needed to clear the air, first with Abby, then the Martins. Yet right now, he saw no easy way out. Rejecting his host’s offer probably wouldn’t sit well with Vern.
Lindsay was alongside him now, waiting for his answer, her heavy cologne swirling around him. He was stuck and he knew it.
“Thanks. I’ll be there.”
Slowly she trailed a long red fingernail along his arm from shoulder to wrist. “See you then, sugar.”
Jesse watched Lindsay walk across the road in that undulating way he remembered. He couldn’t help wondering what her fiancе had been like and what had happened that they’d called off the wedding. Maybe the guy had gotten tired of Lindsay’s obvious flirtatious ways.
Sighing, he ran up the steps and went inside to take his shower.
Vern himself opened the door and greeted Jesse as an equal, no doubt due to his father’s reputation. The big house was old and home to third generation Martins, but looked as if it had been renovated not long ago. Jesse hadn’t been inside on his last visit, so he had no comparison. He thought the place was typical of many working ranch homes—spacious, red tile floors, western decor, big, comfortable furniture.
He smelled apple pie and heard sounds coming from the kitchen in back, but he saw no one except Vern who hustled him into his den and poured him two fingers of whiskey, neat, in an old-fashioned glass. Jesse preferred Scotch but beggars couldn’t be choosers and his back, even after a long shower, was still hurting.
Vern freshened his own drink. “Real nice to have another man in the house,” he said, motioning Jesse to twin leather chairs facing a stone fireplace large enough to roast a couple of pigs in. Sitting back, Vern took a generous swig of his drink, then sighed audibly. “Best part of the day, don’t you agree?”
Jesse didn’t necessarily agree, but he tossed back the whiskey and hoped it would dull the pain in his back. “I like your house,” he said honestly, glancing around Vern’s masculine retreat. “Built much better than they do these days.”
“You got that right.” Vern narrowed his blue eyes and studied the younger man. “Did you know I met your dad some years ago?”
“No, sir, I didn’t.”
“Sure did. At a rodeo in Colorado. We were both a lot younger back then.” He chuckled. “I regret not keeping in touch with Cam through the years. You look like him, you know.”
“So I’ve been told.” Had Vern Martin asked him over for a reason or was he just longing for some male companionship? Jesse wondered.
“How’s he doing these days?”
“Good. He had a heart attack a while back, but he’s doing real well.”
“You have a brother, don’t you? I always envied Cam with two sons.” He took a sip of his drink, then coughed into his fist. “I love my girls, but sometimes it’s hard living in a house full of women.” Vern paused, looking thoughtful. “How’s the Triple C doing?”
Was that inquiry Vern’s hidden agenda in asking Jesse over? he wondered. “Doing very well. Arabian market fell through, as you know, but quarter horses are going strong.”
“You breed and train, right?”
“Yes, and board horses, give riding lessons. A few years back, we added cattle. Diversification, my father believes, is the key to survival. Of course, we don’t have nearly the herd you have. We allocate about eighteen acres to cattle, have about three-hundred head cross cows. And we grow our own grass and hay.”
Vern nodded in agreement. “Ranching’s a tough business, some years worse than others. Good help is hard to find.”
Studying the man, Jesse could see worry lines by his eyes and his color wasn’t good.
Vern cleared his throat. “I found out I’ve got a bit of a heart problem, too.” He glanced toward the open door. “Don’t want the family to know. I’m thinking I’d be better off selling. You wouldn’t know of anyone looking, would you?”
“Not offhand, but I can check with Dad.”
“Yeah, that’d be good. And let’s keep this between you and me. No use worrying the others.” He downed the rest of his drink.
They heard footsteps just before Grace came scurrying into the den. “I’m supposed to tell you dinner’s ready.” She looked at Jesse. “Oh, hi. You’re the man who fixes horses, right?”
“You could say that,” Jesse answered, smiling.
“Okay, we’re coming, honey.” Vern stood as the child ran back out. “That’s my granddaughter, Grace. Pretty as a picture, isn’t she? Looks just like her mother.”
So this was the baby Abby had come home to have. “She’s cute.”
“Sure is.”
So Abby was raising a fatherless child. He knew all about how difficult it was to raise children alone, like his own father had had to do.
“Casey tells me that Abby’s husband died,” Jesse threw out, hoping Vern would elaborate.
“Yeah. Devil’s own luck.” He set down his empty glass. “We never even got to know him, you know. They met at college and eloped over a weekend. They were supposed to come here at semester’s end. Joyce was planning a reception, but two weeks later, he fell off a boat and drowned.” He shook his head. “Our girls haven’t had much luck with men. Lindsay almost got married a while back, but something happened between them and the wedding never took place. I have two beautiful, bright marriageable girls and not a suitable man in sight. What I need is a good, strong ranch man who could take over for me.” Vern sighed heavily. “And they’re scarcer than hen’s teeth.”
Jesse wondered for the hundredth time how different things might have been had that truck not hit his convertible. He’d have seen to his father’s health, come back and probably married Abby.
“You married?” Vern asked suddenly.
“No, sir.” He hated to hand this poor guy yet another disappointment by revealing his past. He’d have to do it soon, but not right now. First, he had to talk with Abby. Alone.
Abby was having trouble eating. Seated across the dining room table from Jesse Calder, she kept looking at him from under her lowered lashes. Up close, he was even more like Jesse Hunter with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through her. She noticed a small scar above his left eyebrow and wondered what had happened.
He was fairly quiet, answering Dad’s questions, evading Lindsay’s overtures, trying not to notice that Mom wasn’t very friendly. Her mother hadn’t wanted to invite him to dinner, but Dad had insisted, for no apparent reason. However, Joyce had put on a great dinner, her famous roast pork with vegetables, but Abby might as well have been chewing sawdust.
Studying him, she didn’t think he had much of an appetite, either. He’d turned down Dad’s offer of wine as she had. The only one drinking was Lindsay, now on her second glass.
Keeping up with the conversation, Jesse managed to study the Martin clan, one by one. Joyce had her auburn hair up in some sort of twist that added to her stern look. She wore a navy-blue dress with a little white collar and matching shoes. All that for a weekday meal with someone she didn’t know yet. Or did she dress so formally every night?
Vern had on his usual jeans and checkered shirt, the line on his forehead showing just where his hat usually sat. Having said his piece in the den, he was quiet. Lindsay wore a low-cut blouse and a short leather skirt, her eyes bright from the wine she seemed overly fond of. Grace looked cute in a T-shirt and shorts that matched her cornflower-blue eyes. She wasn’t much of an eater but she loved to chatter, bombarding him with questions.
But it was Abby who held his attention. She’d brushed out her blond hair and let it hang past her shoulders, making him remember the times he’d thrust his fingers through the silky thickness. Her incredible green eyes rarely met his and when they did, she quickly looked away. Had she figured out his identity yet?
Jesse didn’t smile much, Abby couldn’t help noticing, except when he talked to Grace who’d insisted on sitting next to him. He answered her questions patiently and didn’t talk down to her. He had nice hands, she decided, his fingers lean and strong. She rather liked the beard, but it was his eyes that disturbed her, that deep blue.
So like the other Jesse’s.
“Tell me, Mr. Calder,” Joyce Martin asked, her first comment to him that didn’t involve serving the food, “is your mother involved in ranching with your father?”
“No. My mother’s gone.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Joyce managed to sound sympathetic. “When did she die?”
Jesse set down his fork and looked at her. “I’m not sure she did. She left my father, my twin brother and me when Jake and I were only two. From what I’ve heard, she wasn’t fond of the ranch. Dad got full custody of us.” He turned to Abby across from him. “It’s not easy, raising kids alone.”
