Dreams for Stones Page 6

  It was. . . beautiful was too insipid a word. Beyond beauty, there was strength in the up-curving lineaments of the land forming the valley’s boundaries and peace in the slow movements of the horses.

  She wondered if the people who lived here realized how lucky they were. Sighing with envy, she drove slowly down the hill and parked next to the minivan.

  As she got out of her car, a dog came rushing from the barn to greet the woman and little girl who had arrived in the van. The girl gathered the dog in her arms.

  Kathy looked away from the child and delirious dog, to see a man walking toward them from the barn. She took in scuffed boots, faded jeans, and well-worn Stetson.

  The Virginian in the flesh. Charmed, she watched him approach.

  “Hi, Grace,” he said, pushing the hat back and hugging the woman. “Welcome to TapDancer.”

  No. It couldn’t be.

  The little girl bounced over to him, and he scooped her up.

  “Hi, Alan.”

  But it was. The “Alan” clinched it. Not the Virginian or a close facsimile thereof, but the arrogant, obnoxious professor.

  She’d done nothing to deserve this, really she hadn’t. Pretending to slam a tennis ball at someone didn’t count, did it?

  “Delia. How’s my best girl?”

  “Ter-ri-fic.” Delia bobbed her head with each syllable, then gave the man a smacking kiss, almost knocking off his hat, before he set her down.

  Kathy edged back toward her car, planning to open the door, slide in, and drive away, as if she’d turned in here by mistake—the truth, actually.

  But before she reached safety, Alan looked over at her, frowning. “Ms. . . Jamison isn’t it?”

  “I-I was just—I mean, there’s been a mistake.” She reached out a shaking hand to open the car door, but found she’d locked it. She fumbled in her pocket for her keys, then dropped them from fingers gone numb. As she bent to pick them up, she saw that man, woman, and child were all staring at her.

  Standing up, she flipped the keys to get at the one to her elderly Toyota. “Umm. That is, I talked to Stella, to schedule a riding lesson.” She blew out a breath to dislodge the strands of hair that had blown across her face, remembering that Stella had said her husband did the teaching.

  But who knew her husband would be this man? Odd, though, that he didn’t seem to know Kathy was coming. Didn’t they talk to each other? “You weren’t expecting me, I can just. . . ” The car key had gotten caught in the keychain. She shook the keys, trying to dislodge it.

  “My folks rushed off to be with my sister,” Alan said. “She’s having a baby. Guess they were so excited, they forgot to mention you were coming.”

  His folks? So, that meant Stella was. . . his mother? And this Grace, whom he’d greeted so affectionately, she was what? His date?

  “That’s okay.” Kathy fumbled the key free and tried to fit it in the lock. “I can come back another time.” As if that were going to happen.

  “Ay Dios mío,” Grace said. “You must stay. It’s a long drive, sí?”

  What was the woman, nuts? Two horses and a pony were saddled and standing tethered to the side of the barn awaiting the three of them. And Kathy had no intention of making it a foursome. “No. Really. It’s okay. I’ll reschedule.” Not.

  “Nonsense,” Grace said. “I’m only here for Delia’s sake. I don’t need to ride.”

  “I can always saddle another horse,” Alan said, but he didn’t make it sound like that was an appealing idea. “It’s up to you, but there’s no reason for you to leave.”

  “Por favor. You must stay. I’ll feel terrible if you leave.” Grace looked both concerned and sincere. “I’m Grace Garibaldi, and this is my daughter, Delia.” Grace stepped toward Kathy, extending her hand.

  “Kathy Jamison.” Kathy tried to smile, but she doubted it was a success. Peachy. Just peachy. She’d finally decided to try to conquer her fear of horses, and this is what she got. Fourth wheel on a date with a man she’d hoped never to see again.

  She shook Grace’s hand and smiled a hello at Delia, who gave her a sunny grin.

  “You must stay,” Grace said.

  And where was the ability to click her heels and wish herself away when she needed it? “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Mira. You don’t need to saddle another horse, Alan.”

  Alan shrugged. “It’s no trouble.”

  Grace shook her head.

  “Let’s get started, then.” Alan took Delia’s hand in his and led the way to the side of the barn where the horses and pony stood waiting.

  The pony whickered softly and rubbed its head against Alan’s arm. “Her name is Arriba,” he told Delia. “She’s a Galiceno, from Mexico. These other two are Paso Finos from Puerto Rico.”

  “Like my mami,” Delia said.

  Alan pulled a carrot from his back pocket and handed it to Delia. “Hold your hand out flat. Like this. Let her take it from you. Don’t worry, she won’t bite.”

  “Oh, she wouldn’t bite me. She knows I’m her friend.” Delia sounded as serious as an elderly schoolmarm. Then she giggled. “Ooh, she’s tickling me.” She gave her mother a luminous smile, a smile that caught at Kathy’s heart, causing a sharp pain. It was her biggest regret—not her broken engagement—but the loss of possibility, of children, a family.

  “You ready to ride?” Alan asked Delia, his words pulling Kathy from dark thoughts back to the sunny day.

  Delia nodded, her whole body joining in. She was obviously so filled with joy, there was simply no room for words.

  As Alan lifted the little girl onto the pony’s back, Kathy turned to Grace. “I’m really sorry to have barged in like this.”

  “Ay bendito. Not your fault Alan’s sister picked today to have her baby. Besides, to tell you the truth, I was looking for an excuse not to ride. Entonces, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Grace did look relieved.

  “Here, Grace.” Alan handed Grace the lead he’d attached to the pony’s bridle. “You can lead Arriba around the ring, while I get Ms. Jamison started.”

  Ms. Jamison indeed. Kathy wondered if she was supposed to call him Mr. Francini, or Professor Francini, or perhaps something more casual like, Your Almighty Professorial Majesty? And couldn’t he be a little friendlier instead of acting like he’d just been told he had an unpleasant disease?

  As Alan approached the remaining two horses, the chocolate-colored one leaned into him, lipping his pockets. Obviously kids and animals loved this man, although Kathy failed to see the attraction herself.

  “This greedy gut is Sonoro.” He pushed Sonoro’s head firmly out of the way in order to untie the other horse, which he led over to Kathy. “And this is Siesta. She’s a real sweetheart.”

  Right. Kathy gave Siesta a tentative pat.

  “You’ve ridden before?”

  “Once or twice. With a western saddle.” And got tossed on my tush for my trouble. Darn Amanda. She was out of the story—if Kathy survived long enough to delete her.

  Alan’s eyes narrowed. “These are Spanish saddles. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

  If he was trying to be reassuring, his tone, brisk and business-like, ruined the effect.

  “Here’s your get-acquainted carrot. You know how to hold it?”

  She nodded and held her hand flat trying not to think about how large Siesta’s teeth were. If a small child could do this, so could she.

  Siesta blew a warm breath across her palm before delicately lifting the carrot and crunching down on it, and Kathy couldn’t help but smile. It did tickle. But when Siesta butted her, Kathy couldn’t help that reaction either. She jumped back.

  “She’s just hoping for another carrot.” Alan’s cool tone clearly indicated his opinion of Kathy’s instinctive recoil. He patted the filly, which, thankfully, switched her attentions to him.

  At least Siesta was acceptably skinny. Kathy winced at the thought of Alan’s reaction if she insisted on a different horse.

 
; Alan motioned Kathy to move closer. “Best way to mount is to face the back. Put your hand up here on her neck, turn the stirrup, put your foot in, then swing up and around.”

  Siesta wasn’t a tall horse, but the swing up was more difficult than it looked, and Kathy was relieved to manage it with reasonable grace. She didn’t want to appear clumsy when she was working so hard to look down on this man.

  Alan adjusted her stirrups, took the reins, tied them in a knot, and handed them to her. “Hold them up a bit, right at the knot. That will make her arch her neck. Give you a better ride. Sit up nice and straight with your heels down.” He smoothed his hand over the filly’s neck. “She has a real soft mouth. She starts backing up, means you’re pulling.”

  “Heels down, reins up, don’t pull,” Kathy chanted under her breath as Alan went over to the other horse and swung gracefully into the saddle. Of course he’d be graceful.

  “Okay. We’ll begin with a slow walk around the ring. Relax. Siesta knows what she’s doing.” Which you obviously do not was clearly implied by his tone and the look on his face.

  As the two horses walked side by side, Alan showed Kathy how to signal the filly to turn to the right or to the left. Then he had her walk Siesta through a large figure eight while he watched.

  “You ready to try something faster?”

  I don’t do faster. Then why was she nodding?

  Because she couldn’t stand the thought of seeing another one of his cool, superior looks. A look that wasn’t going to be any easier to take from a prone position in the dirt, which was where she was headed if she let Siesta do anything but walk.

  Alan’s horse moved into a fast gait, and before Kathy could react, Siesta joined in. Kathy’s heart hammered against her ribs as she clutched at the edge of the saddle with her hands and gripped Siesta with her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  One breath, two, and she realized she was still sitting on Siesta. And instead of bouncing, she was moving in an easy side-to-side motion. She opened her eyes, and after several more careful breaths, she unclenched her legs and let go of her death grip on the saddle.

  She lifted the reins the way Alan had told her to, and after she did, she began to notice other things. Like how the world looked from the back of a horse, as if there were more of it, somehow. The way it had looked when as a small child she’d been lifted onto her father’s shoulders in order to see better.

  The autumn air brushed her cheeks, lifting her hair and cooling her neck. In an instant, delight replaced fear. She was riding, and not only that, she understood for the first time why people actually did it for fun.

  After several circuits, Alan slowed his horse back to a walk, and Kathy’s horse quickly followed suit.

  “How was that?” he said.

  It was...wow! She couldn’t tell him that. Their relationship was much too cool and distant for that kind of sharing. “She’s so smooth. I didn’t bounce at all.”

  “That’s a Paso Fino for you. Do you know any Spanish?”

  “Fine passage?” Kathy hazarded.

  “Close. Fine step or fine gait. Let me show you something. Stay here.”

  Kathy tightened her reins slightly, and Siesta stopped and stood quietly. It made Kathy feel in control, safe.

  Alan, meanwhile, rode over to Grace and Delia and spoke to them briefly before turning Sonoro toward the center of the ring, where Kathy had noticed a wooden platform embedded in the dirt. At an invisible signal from Alan, Sonoro’s legs began moving in a quick step that, given his forward progress, was rather like jogging in place. Reaching the wooden platform, Sonoro danced slowly across, rapping out a staccato rhythm.

  Delia clapped her hands in delight, and Kathy felt the same delight as the little girl. It was magic. Enchantment.

  When Sonoro’s dance ended near Grace and Delia, Alan leaned over to say something to Grace before riding back to Kathy.

  “I see why you call this TapDancer Ranch,” Kathy said.

  They began walking around the ring again. “You know." He stopped and cleared his throat. "I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologize.”

  Kathy, still feeling exhilarated from having faced her fear, was abruptly reminded she didn’t like this man. “Oh.” She tightened her legs, and Siesta danced sideways.

  “Easy.”

  Kathy didn’t know if he was speaking to her or to the horse. She relaxed her muscles, and Siesta instantly responded with a return to a slow walk.

  “You surprised me at the tail end of a bad day, and I acted like an idiot,” he continued. “No excuse. But, well. Anyway. If you still want to use the office in the evenings, it would be fine.”

  “I’m using a carrel in the library.” Okay, now she was the one sounding like the recipient of a bad diagnosis. “Thank you, though. It’s kind of you to offer.” Better, but still not award-winning.

  “I also want to thank you for not complaining to Hilstrom.”

  “How do you know I didn’t?” Kathy said, feeling a sudden urge to tease him.

  He glanced at her quickly, looking glum, and Kathy remembered her first impression of Hilary Hilstrom—that the woman wasn’t someone she’d want to cross.

  “I’m not a snitch. And I fight my battles myself.”

  He met her eyes briefly looking relieved, then he signaled Grace to lead the pony over. “Time we call it quits for today.”

  When they reached the barn, Kathy dismounted. Not smoothly like Alan, but awkwardly. Her leg muscles were already letting her know they would be reminding her of the ride for several days to come.

  She held Siesta’s reins until Alan came and took them from her.

  “Thank you for the lesson.”

  “You’re welcome.” He glanced at her briefly before turning to Grace. “You and Ms. Jamison ought to talk,” he said. “She’s an editor.” Then he turned to Kathy. “Grace writes children’s books.”

  “Oh. How nice.” Kathy’s face felt stiff as she smiled at Grace. But after all, it wasn’t Grace’s fault she was being foisted on Kathy.

  Alan and Delia started for the barn, Delia leading the pony and Alan one of the two horses. He spoke over his shoulder. “We’ll just get the horses unsaddled while you two chat.”

  To Kathy, it sounded more like an order than a suggestion, and that sundered the tentative truce he’d achieved with his apology.

  She turned toward Grace, wondering what the other woman’s relationship was with Alan, then decided they had to be dating. After all, Grace was wearing more makeup for a horseback ride than Kathy would wear to the opera.

  Although on Grace it did look good, enhancing her already vivid eyes and lips. The truth was, Grace made Kathy feel drab.

  “You and Alan.” Grace glanced at her. “Do you know each other well?” An echo of what Kathy had been thinking.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Mira. You should work on that.”

  “Excuse me.” Kathy examined Grace, trying to make sense of what she’d said. Maybe there was something in the Spanish sprinkled among Grace’s words that Kathy wasn’t getting. What she did get was that Grace seemed determined to drag Alan into the conversation while Kathy was equally determined to ban him.

  There was only one way to move the subject to safer ground, and Kathy took it. “So, what kind of children’s books do you write?”

  She’d tried to make her tone interested, but Grace tensed, and her face took on a defensive look. “Short chapter books for middle readers. I’ve been told they’re good stories, but they rhyme, and they mix English and Spanish together. And everybody who knows anything about publishing tells me nobody is going to take a chance on a book like that.”

  “It’s an interesting concept.” Kathy’s comment was sincere. Grace’s book might well fit into Calico Cat’s new bilingual book line. “I’d be happy to take a look and tell you what I think.”

  Grace gave her a searching look before beginning to smile.

  “I’ll get you my card,” Kathy said. “I h
ave one in the car.”

  As Kathy turned to hand the card to Grace, she found the other woman watching Alan and Delia lead the last horse into the barn together.

  “Ay bendito. Those two. Son amigos. It’s a good thing I’m crazy about Frank or I would be sorely tempted by that man.”

  Once again, Kathy found herself shuffling through Grace’s words looking for the meaning. “Frank?”

  “My husband.”

  Husband? Grace was married? “You’re not Professor. . . I mean Alan. . . his date?” And there was absolutely no reason why that should make her feel like giggling.

  “Ay Dios mío. Is that what you thought?” Grace chuckled. “That’s why you looked so shocked when I suggested you get to know him better.”

  “Maybe.” Kathy narrowed her eyes to stare at Grace.

  Grace laughed again. Then her expression turned serious. “You act like you don’t like him much, querida.”

  Kathy shrugged.

  Grace frowned. “I met Alan when our dog was hit by a car.” Grace turned away, continuing to speak in a pensive tone. “Blackie. He was hurt really bad. Alan helped me, while everyone else, including the man who hit him, just stood around or walked away.” Grace took a deep breath. “He’s a good man. But lonely, I think.”

  Kathy could see no reason why she should be concerned about Alan’s loneliness. “Yes. Well. I need to get going. You send in your manuscript. I’ll take a look.”

  She was halfway back to Denver before she realized she’d forgotten to pay for the lesson.

  Chapter Eight

  When there wasn’t room for them to run, the horses learned to dance. Kathy lifted her hands from the keyboard, frowning at what she’d written. Clearly, she must still be under the spell of yesterday’s trip to TapDancer Ranch.

  She closed her eyes, trying to summon Amanda, but what came instead was a vision of Sonoro, legs flashing, neck arched, dancing across the wooden platform, looking as if he knew full well how gorgeous he was.