One Mother Wanted. Jeanne Allan
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“I don’t believe you.” She hadn’t wanted to believe.
“I wish I were lying. I’m more sorry than I can say, Allie. I know this is a rotten thing to do to you.”
Her throat had swollen, making it painful to swallow. “You’re going to marry someone else?”
“I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but it’s the right thing, the only thing, I can do. I was wrong to sleep with Kim, but I can’t erase what I did. And now I have to do the honorable thing and marry her.”
“What about me?” she’d cried.
He wouldn’t look at her. Just stood there, curling his hat brim tighter and tighter. Finally he said, “You’ll find someone else. A better man. A man who deserves you.” He’d turned and walked toward his pickup.
She’d screamed at him then. Called him names, cursed him, heaped upon him every bit of verbal abuse that came to mind. Zane had stood by his truck, his hand on the door handle, his head bowed. Not until she’d run out of words had he picked up the ring she’d thrown in the dirt at his feet, climbed wearily into his truck and driven slowly away.
He’d married Kimberly Taylor the next day.
Zane Peters married or Zane Peters a widower, it was all the same to Allie. The filly drew her to his ranch. Not Zane.
And definitely not his daughter with her mother’s hair. Allie should have guessed the girl’s identity the minute she saw her. Despite her red hair, the child looked like Zane.
The gossip about Kim Taylor had quickly reached Allie. People seemed to think a jilted bride would be happy to know the man who’d jilted her was himself being cheated on. She hadn’t been happy. The gossip only proved how little wrecking Allie’s life meant to either Zane or Kim.
The child was swinging on a rope swing tied to a large cottonwood tree near the house when Allie drove up. At the sight of Allie’s car and trailer, the little girl dragged her feet in the dirt, slowing down the swing.
Allie intended to concentrate on the filly, not on some other woman’s kid. Ignoring the child, Allie opened the trailer and backed Copper down the short ramp.
“Hi.”
“Hello,” Allie answered shortly. So much for hoping the kid would stay out of her way.
“Daddy said I can’t bother you.”
“He’s right.”
“What’s her name?”
Allie glanced over to see the girl petting the greyhound. “Moonie. You shouldn’t pet strange dogs. You could get bitten.”
“She likes me.”
“He. He’s a male dog.” Males had no discrimination.
“He’s funny-looking. He’s skinny.”
Telling Moonie to stay by the trailer, Allie swung up on Copper and walked the mare toward the pasture.
On short, stubby legs, the little girl trotted beside the large mare. “What’s your horse’s name? My new horse is Honey. Daddy calls me honey.”
Allie carefully closed and locked the gate into the pasture. Zane’s daughter said the endearment in exact mimicry of the way her father used to say it to Allie.
The child climbed up the metal pasture gate and clung to the top. “He calls me honey ’cuz he really loves me. I really love Honey.”
Allie wheeled Copper around and gave the small girl a stern look. “Your father told you not to bother me. Go back to your swing and stay there.” Allie refused to call the paint Honey.
The filly stood in the middle of a group of horses. As Allie guided Copper slowly toward the small herd, a brown mare nickered a greeting to Copper, and Allie’s mare nickered back. Used to horses with riders, the horses curiously watched Allie’s approach. Their calm behavior reassured the filly. Slowly Allie guided the small herd toward the open gate of the round pen. The horses obligingly ambled inside.
One by one, Allie extracted the horses from the pen until only the paint remained. Paying no attention to the filly, Allie shut the gate, then guided Copper around the pen, walking at first, then trotting. All the while, Allie talked in low, calm voice. Eventually the filly, curious or wanting o herd up with Copper, trotted in their wake. Allie gradually slowed her mare until the filly moved almost abreast of hem. Now she patted and rubbed Copper, her hand coming closer by degrees to the paint but never touching the filly. At first the filly shied away each time Allie’s hand moved, put imperceptibly she grew accustomed to the movement.
Round and round. Finally Allie guided Copper over to he gate. When she opened the gate, the filly humped her back at the noise, but quickly spotted the opening and dashed into the pasture. After a few yards, she slowed and turned to look at Allie. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Allie asked.
“You have more patience than any woman I know, and you hardly ever lose your temper. I’ll bet you made a good school teacher.”
Focused on the filly, Allie had missed Zane’s approach. She rode Copper through the pasture gate Zane held open md guided the mare toward the horse trailer. “Hardly ever,” he’d said.
She knew he referred to the night she’d totally lost conrol, screaming and yelling like a banshee. “I never claimed to be a saint,” she said. “If you’d wanted a submissive hamby-pamby, you shouldn’t have gotten engaged to me in he first place.”
Zane raised an eyebrow. “Where’d that come from? I was complimenting you.”
He knew very well what she was talking about. Allie pushed him aside when he would have removed Copper’s saddle. “I take care of my own horse, and I don’t want your compliments. I don’t want you checking up on me. If you ion’t trust me with the filly, train her yourself.”
“I’m not checking up. I wanted to talk to you.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
He leaned against the side of the trailer. “We haven’t discussed what it’s going to cost me for you to work with the filly.”
Everything, she wanted to scream. He owed her for more than a few minutes a day training a horse. He could never repay her for what he owed her. “I’m not training the filly for you.”
Zane gave her a crooked smile. “I don’t think Hannah’s allowance will cover horse-training.”
She turned away, fussing with Copper. It wasn’t fair that a smile from a low-down skunk could unsettle her stomach and interfere with her breathing. Against the mare’s flank, she muttered, “I’m here for the filly’s sake. No other reason.”
He didn’t reply. Crossed at the ankles, his worn boots remained in her field of vision. Hardworking, serviceable boots. If they’d ever seen a lick of polish, it didn’t show. She wished he’d take them out of her sight.
He uncrossed his ankles. “You’re making Hannah happy.”
“Your daughter’s your responsibility, not mine.”
“Hannah’s not a responsibility. She’s a privilege and a joy.”
Allie put Copper in the trailer, glad the task kept her face from Zane’s view. Once she’d anticipated having his children. Dreamed of seeing her sons and daughters on his shoulders, on his lap, in his arms. Her Hannah. Not another woman’s. Allie settled her hat firmly on her head, jumped down from the trailer and latched the back. “I should be able to come tomorrow. You told your daughter not to bother me. Take your own advice.”
Zane looked around. “Where is Hannah? I’m surprised the temptation of watching you and the filly wasn’t too much for her. Ruth must have called her in for dinner.” He hesitated, then walked toward the house.
Guilt needled Allie as she