Ride A Wild Heart. Peggy Moreland
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down a couple of bales of hay for them.”
Carol methodically worked her way through her chores at the barn, putting out hay and oats for her horses and filling their water buckets.
But her mind wasn’t on her work.
It was centered on Pete.
How was she going to avoid him, when she’d have to see him every day in order to get a list of chores?
Frowning, she climbed the ladder to the loft. She wouldn’t be able to avoid him. Not entirely. Not now. Not after she’d offered to help him take care of the ranch. She dragged a bale of hay to the loft doors that opened over the corral, her frown deepening.
“Dang fool,” she muttered, cursing herself as she yanked a pair of wire cutters from her back pocket. “Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut? Why did you have to offer to help him?” Slipping the tool between the thin wire wrapped tightly around the bale, she snapped the handles together, snipping the wire in two.
She hadn’t made the offer to help Pete because of any latent feelings she had for him, she told herself as she tossed down squares of loosened hay into the corral below. She’d made the offer for Rena’s sake. Rena was her friend and, despite what Carol had told Pete earlier that morning, she knew Rena wanted their marriage to work.
Sighing, she straightened and looked out over the land where the sun was dipping low in the western sky. Rena and Clayton had had a tough time of it, she reflected sadly. An unexpected pregnancy that had forced them into a marriage neither of them were prepared for. The birth of the twins. But in spite of the circumstances of their marriage, Carol knew that Rena loved Clayton. But did Clayton love Rena? Enough to put his family before his rodeo career? Enough to be the kind of husband and father that his family wanted and needed?
At the thought, she glanced toward the house, thinking of Pete and the similarities she saw in their past relationship. She envisioned him in the house as she’d left him, lying in Rena and Clayton’s bed in nothing but his briefs. She knew that being around him again wasn’t going to be easy. But she’d do what was necessary to give Rena and Clayton a chance to reconcile their differences.
Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the ladder and the house. She’d see that the ranch ran smoothly until Pete was back on his feet. And when he was…well, she would avoid him, just as she had planned to before.
At the back door she shucked off her dirty boots, then tiptoed across the kitchen and down the hall that led to the master bedroom, keeping her tread light in the event that Pete had drifted off to sleep. When she reached the open doorway, she glanced toward the bed, but found it empty.
“Pete?” she called softly, looking around. When she didn’t hear a reply, she called a little louder, “Pete?” When he still didn’t respond, she ran for the master bathroom. She found him there, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.
“Oh, my God,” she cried and dropped to her knees beside him. She placed a hand on his cheek and turned his face toward hers. A lump the size of a marble swelled from his left temple.
“Pete?” she whispered, choked by the fear that crowded her throat. When he didn’t respond, she quickly rose to dampen a washcloth, then knelt beside him again. “Pete,” she repeated frantically as she bathed his face. “Come on, Pete, talk to me.”
His eyelashes fluttered, and she lifted the cloth, clutching it to her breasts, her breath locked tightly in her lungs as she watched his eyes blink open. His gaze met hers, and he squinted, slowly bringing her into focus.
“Carol?” He tried to sit up, but sank back to the floor with a groan.
“Did you faint?” she asked, leaning over him.
“I…I don’t know,” he said, his voice thready and weak.
“What were you doing out of bed?”
“Had to pee. I—” he groaned again and lifted a trembling hand to his forehead. “Took a pill. Made me groggy.”
“You should’ve waited until I got back,” she scolded, “so that I could have helped you.”
“Don’t need a woman to help me pee,” he grumbled.
Frowning, she tossed the washcloth to the sink, then bent over to slip an arm beneath his shoulders. “We need to get you back to bed. Can you walk?”
“Y-yeah. I…I think so.” He pressed an elbow against the floor and, with her help, levered himself to a sitting position. He sat there a moment, breathing hard, his shoulders stooped, his hands dangling limply between his knees.
“Are you okay?” she asked uneasily.
“Give me a minute.” He inhaled deeply, then reached up to brace a wide hand on the edge of the sink. Holding his injured leg out in front of him, he hauled himself awkwardly to his feet. Carol followed, supporting him as best she could with an arm wrapped around his waist. He hopped a couple of steps, his lips pressed tightly together, avoiding putting weight on his right leg. His face was chalk-white, and sweat glistened on his forehead at the effort.
“Just take it slow,” she instructed nervously. Holding on to him and taking as much of his weight as possible, she slowly guided him back to the bed.
He collapsed across it, rolling to his back and throwing an arm across his eyes. Carefully Carol placed the pillow beneath his knee again, then straightened, looking down at him. His face was pale, his jaw slack, his chest heaving with each drawn breath.
And she knew there was no way she could leave him on his own for the night.
“I’m staying.”
“I can take care of myself,” he grumbled. “I don’t need a damn nursemaid.”
“Tough. You’ve got one.” She snatched the sheet up and over his legs. “I’ll need to run over to my house and pick up a few things. You stay in bed until I get back. I won’t be gone long.”
She started to turn away, but stopped when he caught her hand from behind. She squeezed her eyes shut as the warmth of his fingers closed around hers. It would be so easy to let the years slip away. To climb into bed with him. To wrap her arms around him and just hold him. To forget that he wasn’t the man for her.
Taking a deep breath, she forced open her eyes and slowly turned back around, careful to hide her emotions from him. “What?”
“Thanks, Carol.”
She swallowed hard, fighting the desire to go to him, to brush the damp hair from his forehead and press her lips there. To tell him how much she’d missed him. How many times she’d needed him. Slowly she eased her fingers from his and backed away. From him. From temptation.
“N-no problem,” she stammered, then whirled for the door.
Carol parked her truck alongside her house and sank back against the seat, her heart heavy, her nerves raw. But as she stared at the white frame house with its dark-green shutters and its window boxes brimming with a profusion of trailing geraniums and sweet alyssum, the sense of satisfaction and pride she always felt when she looked at her home slowly filled her. This is what was important to her, she told herself. This is what she wanted. A home. Stability. Something she’d never known growing up. Something she would have lost if she hadn’t broken off the relationship with Pete two years ago.
Though she only leased the property, she hoped to own it someday. That and the land that surrounded it. Abandoned for over five years, the house had been in bad shape when she’d first leased it. But she’d accomplished a great deal in the three years she’d lived there. She’d scrubbed it from top to bottom and given it a fresh coat of paint, inside and out. She’d repaired the fencing and made the old barn useable again. She hoped to add an arena soon, so that she wouldn’t have to use Clayton’s for her horseback riding classes. When she did, she’d be able to increase the number of classes she offered. Maybe even hold a few clinics.
And someday