By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс
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had made several attempts at befriending her, though Annie had kept her distance. But boundary lines that had once been set in stone were becoming more flexible.
“Are you getting ready to leave?”
Annie smiled at Jesse’s girlfriend. The whole reason Annie was socializing at all was due to unassuming, crazy-generous Shea. Taking a break from her high-security job as a computer programmer, she’d come to Montana over the Christmas holidays to help at Safe Haven. But she’d come back to Blackfoot Falls because of Jesse. That she’d turned out to be the sanctuary’s most influential volunteer and backer was a miracle.
Annie sighed with real regret as she nodded. “I have chores.”
“Need help?”
“Not from you, although thanks for offering. You stay right here and enjoy yourself with that man of yours.”
Shea blushed as she slipped her hands into the pockets of her dark gray trousers. “I’m glad you stayed so long. Jesse said you’ve never had dinner here before.”
“You know how things are. Always something to do, what with every female animal at the shelter pregnant.”
Shea laughed. “Not every one.”
Annie set her glass on a big tray, knowing no one would mind that she didn’t stay to clean up. “It’s been a nice party.”
“It has,” Shea said, with more than a little surprise in her voice. “I usually hate parties. Never know what to say. But with the McAllisters it’s different.” She leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice. “Yesterday, I talked to Sadie from the Watering Hole for almost half an hour.”
“Whoa, look at you, Shea. You haven’t even lived here a full month yet and you’re already one of the in crowd.”
“Jesse tries to include me in things because he knows I’m oblivious,” she said in that matter-of-fact tone that still made Annie smile. “Not with gossip, though. He doesn’t do that.”
Perhaps because he’d heard his name, the man in question sidled up to Shea and snuck his arm across her shoulders, but kept his gaze on Annie.
“I’m flying out to Missoula on Tuesday,” Jesse said, “so you might want to put together a shopping list.”
She perked up because it was about a hundred miles to Missoula, and she could get things there that weren’t available in a small town like Blackfoot Falls or even the bigger Kalispell. Northwestern Montana was gorgeous, but it was mostly land and lakes and mountains. “I’ll get on that tomorrow.”
“With all that loot you two have been raking in,” Jesse said, “it’ll be hard to decide what to buy first.”
Annie smiled at his teasing. He was the only other person who knew how much of the influx of money had come either directly from Shea or from donations she’d wrangled. Annie pulled her keys out of her pocket. “Trust me, most of it is spent and we had no trouble doing it. Unbelievable how many things need replacing or fixing at that sorry shelter.”
“Your cabin, for instance?” Shea said.
“My cabin is fine, thanks.” Annie addressed Jesse again, wanting to change the subject quickly. “I’ll send a list home with Shea.” She looked at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
“Of course.”
Annie fiddled with her keys as she backed up in the direction of her truck. “Great. See you then.” She said quick goodbyes to most of the McAllisters along with many thanks, but before they could even try to convince her to stick around for dessert she climbed into her old green pickup.
No matter what she did or how long she left the windows open, the cab always smelled like horses. She didn’t mind. Horses had been a comfort to her all her life, and even though they were an amazing amount of work, especially this time of year, she couldn’t have wished for better company.
Horses didn’t care that she was on the run, that she’d messed up her life beyond repair. They loved her, anyway.
It didn’t take long to reach Safe Haven, and the first thing she did was check on the animals in the stable. She had an abandoned stallion that was starting to pick up some weight and get a little shine to his coat, and she added some grain to his feed trough. She spent longer checking on the mares, both of them with full teats but only in the prep stage of foaling, so there was time.
An hour later, she was finished with the barn chores and walked the couple hundred feet to the cabin everyone was so obsessed with. Inside, the overhead light sputtered to life, giving her a shadowed view of her home.
No, it wasn’t much, but it served its purpose. She could run her computer, plus she had a coffeemaker, a microwave, a toaster oven and a minifridge. Hell, she’d lived for years with less at the Columbia University dorms. The tiny claustrophobic bathroom wasn’t a big deal anymore, though she missed having a tub. But the shower got reasonably hot, and she’d replaced the cracked mirror. And the toilet…well, that could use replacing, too. But not until the emergency supplies were stocked and the tractor had a new engine.
Once upstairs in her loft, she turned on the lamp by her bed, and only then realized she should have changed out of her good jeans and one nice shirt before she’d done chores. No use worrying about that now, though. It was late for her, and the alarm would go off before first light, so she pulled on her nightshirt, and by nine-thirty she was under the covers reading a paperback thriller.
A chapter in, her eyelids started sinking. Thankfully, sleep wasn’t hard to come by anymore. The key was to keep herself in a constant state of exhaustion. She’d become an expert at that, too.
FOR THE SECOND TIME IN AN HOUR, Tucker Brennan found himself more focused on the view of the stables outside his window than the business at hand. There were several wranglers busy with chores, just like on the rest of his ranch. He would have preferred being out there building up a sweat instead of sitting in his office, filling his day with the business of running the Rocking B.
His Monday morning had gotten off to a rough start. He’d slept through his alarm, then spilled coffee on his lap during breakfast. Maybe he should have gone out last night. There were a number of women he could’ve called who wouldn’t have minded a last-minute invitation. But it was never that easy, was it?
“There’s a fundraiser for City of Hope next month.”
Tucker turned his chair so he faced his personal assistant, who was seconds into an eye roll. Darren smoothed over the near-gaff by clearing his throat. Tucker didn’t let his own frustration show, knowing full well this probably wasn’t the first time Darren had brought up this particular agenda item. Or the second.
“It’s at the McDermott?”
“Yes. Black tie,” Darren said. “The Dallas Symphony Orchestra will be performing before the gala.”
Tucker clicked over to his May calendar where Darren had already highlighted the date. He had three other formal events in May and the thought of another one didn’t appeal. “Send them a check, please. Personal.”
“Match last year’s?”
It had been sizable. “Yes.”
They continued to go down the list of requests, which seemed to grow exponentially year by year. While Darren did most of the correspondence concerning the ranch operations, Tucker liked to write personal messages where it counted. Like the one to an old warhorse of a rancher from Idaho who was about to retire. With no heir, he was going to auction off sixty thousand acres, along with his cattle and horses and all his equipment, and Tucker meant to purchase a great deal of the stock.
He barely acknowledged Darren leaving the office and set to work composing a letter to the rancher, handwritten, just like the old days, because Cotton and his late wife, Lula, had sent out Christmas letters every year until she’d passed away in 2009.
Just