Wide Open Spaces. Roz Fox Denny
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He’d owned a cutting dog named Vic. Monica had given him away. At least it was to a family with kids. Vic loved kids. Colt hadn’t had the heart to demand him back and disappoint little children.
“Oh, shoot. You’ll want to wash before you eat this biscuit sandwich I brought out. Lancelot, no,” she commanded as the dog sailed through the air, attempting to steal the napkin-wrapped biscuit she handed Colt.
“I’ll use the napkin to guard against dog germs.” Colt hopped up on the running board of his pickup in order to keep his food out of the dog’s reach. Lancelot was quite a jumper. “You didn’t have to do this, Summer, but my stomach thanks you.” As if on cue, Colt’s stomach growled again. Louder this time. The dog gave a funny yip, dropped to his belly and slithered back to Summer. Both she and Colt laughed.
“Well,” she said. “I’ve never seen him do that before. You’d better wolf that down fast before he gets brave again.”
“I take it he’s your pet and not Rory’s,” Colt remarked as he began to devour the egg, ham and biscuit sandwich.
“Interesting you should think that. I saved him after he’d been hit by a car. The month before Rory was born. When the baby came, the dog appointed himself guardian extraordinaire. Last year, Rory started school, and I had a terrible time keeping Lancelot off the bus. Which is why you didn’t see him earlier. We’ve learned to lock him inside the house until after Rory leaves. Otherwise, he’ll park himself next to the gate all day.”
“That’s a great trait. I had a loyal dog…once….” His sentence trailed off as Colt wadded the napkin, shoved it into his pocket, then jumped to the ground. “There’s Virgil,” he exclaimed, starting off to meet the man.
Summer wasn’t so quick to follow. Obviously something had happened to his pet, she decided, based on the abrupt way Colt dropped the subject. Men! He probably regretted letting her see an emotional side. The Callan men and Frank, too, had all been miserly with any show of softness. Rory would be different if she had any influence. Yet his bouts of tears, no matter how infrequent, were a bone of contention with Frank. He insisted to any and all who’d listen that she’d turned their son into a sissy. But she knew it wasn’t sissified to want Rory to express honest feelings.
Summer gave a start when Colt took the knitting basket out of her hands and replaced it with the reins to her horse.
“Sorry to break your train of thought, but the sun’s climbing fast. Hadn’t we better go?”
“Yes. Virgil,” she said, swinging into the saddle. “Hang on to Lancelot, please. I don’t want him scaring those eaglets to death. Oh, and Phil Eubanks might deliver our roundup supplies this morning. I left his check with Audrey.”
“Anything else?”
“One other thing. Bozo Bear’s off his feed. Check to see if you think he’s sick. From what I’ve read on bears since we got him, I would’ve expected his appetite to pick up around this time, since he’ll be heading into hibernation soon.”
Virgil nodded and grabbed the dog’s collar.
“You have a bear?” Colt shifted in his saddle to eye her as they rode out.
“An orphan I ran across after a summer forest fire. I’m surprised Myron didn’t fill you in on what people around here call Summer’s Wildlife Sanctuary. As a kid, I was forever dragging home injured squirrels, birds and motherless calves. Now, anytime anyone within driving distance comes across an animal in need, they drop it on my doorstep. My goal is to return them to their natural habitat as quickly as possible. At the moment we’re boarding the bear, two fawns, a disagreeable badger, a snow goose, a family of sage grouse, a great horned owl and…you’ve met the eagle. Those are the wild creatures. Any number of cats and dogs show up in any given year, too. Fortunately, the vet who served Callanton before Myron set up an endowment to cover my costs. Otherwise, I couldn’t afford the menagerie.” She paused, then said softly, “I’ll always be grateful to Dr. Ross. He died the same year my father did, and I miss them both.”
“You don’t sound as if you mind the time your… menagerie must take.”
She smiled. “Not really. I can’t stand to think they’d be left to suffer and die. Although sometimes—for instance, in the case of the eagle—care becomes a challenge.”
Colt pondered the pain evident in her voice when she talked about what might happen to the animals except for her. He was struck by how different she was from his ex-wife. Monica had once refused to help him bottle-feed twin fillies delivered by a mare that didn’t make it through the night. Why hadn’t he seen Monica’s self-centeredness before they got married? Colt strove to remember. Had Monica changed, or had he? Probably both. He hadn’t known her long; theirs had been a whirlwind courtship. And he had to admit that prior to his struggle to stay alive day after day in that rebel prison, he’d been shallow enough to derive importance from how attractive Monica looked on his arm.
“Now who’s miles away?” Summer scolded, calling his attention to a narrow track where they’d have to ride single file.
Colt let her take the lead. “I, uh, was thinking what a genuinely nice person you are to rescue so many injured animals.”
She said nothing, only urged her mare up the trail.
“What happens to your menagerie when Adams buys you out?”
Summer whirled in her saddle. “What do you know about that?”
“Just what I heard you tell Helen last night at the café.” Damn, he’d have to watch himself. If he aroused her suspicion, he’d jeopardize the deal Marley was trying to cobble together.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sure the situation between Frank and me is great fodder for town gossips. I hate that more than I do the actual split. At the risk of sullying your rosy picture of me, I have to admit I was the last to learn that Frank cheated on me. Most days since, I wake up wishing him in hell. So, you see how terrible I really am.”
Unexpectedly, Colt found himself confiding a fact he rarely spoke of, other than to his best friends. “We have a lot in common. I regularly consign my ex to the same place.”
“Really? Then I’m not coming unhinged? Thank God!”
She sounded so truly relieved, Colt burst out laughing.
In reality, Summer was dying to ask more about his divorce. None of her family or close friends had experienced a breakup. But she didn’t know Coltrane Quinn well enough to trade confidences. Except for maybe in one area. “If I remember correctly, you said you were childless.” She turned in the saddle to see him better.
“That’s right. So, there’s something to be grateful for at least. Monica and I haven’t hurt a kid by fighting over him or her. Not that you’ve hurt your son,” he hastened to add.
Summer shook her head. “Rory idolizes Frank. What’s clearer now is that he probably only played at being a dad for show. Since Frank took up residence with his mistre—uh, with Jill, he can’t be bothered to even phone our son. Some people in town have decided I’m keeping Rory from visiting Frank. Well, you saw how Rory blames me, too.”
“So tell him the truth. The kid appears to have above-average intelligence.”
“I’ve talked till I’m blue in the face. I’m not getting through.”
Colt shifted awkwardly. Unless he missed his guess, Summer was just one step from shedding tears. Considering the fact that he’d handled Monica’s deceit by trying to pickle himself in alcohol, he wasn’t the best person to offer advice.
“I’m making you uncomfortable, aren’t I?” Summer faced forward again. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have bent your ear. I hardly know you.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to unload on strangers. We all need outlets. Mine turned out to be any one of a hundred bartenders,” he said, allowing her another little peek into his