The Rancher's Christmas Match. Brenda Minton

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

       Chapter Three

      Isaac ran a brush down the horse’s side as Ted, the Australian shepherd, snoozed on a bale of hay. Shorty stomped when the brush hit a ticklish spot. Isaac moved the brush to the animal’s back. He didn’t normally get distracted when taking care of livestock. Clearly, he knew better than to daydream while working with a horse. Even a horse like Shorty that he’d spent a good amount of time with. In the business world, Shorty would have been his partner. They’d moved a lot of cattle together, he and Shorty. They’d spent long days riding fences, doing repairs, and they’d even won a few events in cutting horse competitions.

      But he was distracted. Because he’d woken up this morning to the memory of Rebecca Barnes and her daughter. He’d actually smiled as he made his morning eggs and toast. Because she’d been unexpected and had a streak of courage that he guessed most people overlooked.

      Some would have called it foolishness, to approach a stranger, ask for his keys and then offer him a ride home. If he ever saw her again he’d warn her not to do that. She was fortunate that he really was just a guy needing a ride home.

      If Jack gave her a building, Isaac guessed he would be seeing her again. She’d be in town, maybe around the ranch. They would be in one another’s lives.

      “Is the horse ticklish?” a small voice asked from behind him.

      He nearly jumped out of his skin. A grown man wouldn’t want to admit that to just anyone, but considering that whoever had said it giggled at his reaction, he wouldn’t stand a chance at denying. Doing his best to appear composed and tamping down the grin that tugged at his mouth, he faced the girl, who stood inside an empty stall, a scrawny, gray tabby kitten in her hands.

      “Yep, horses are ticklish.” He pushed his hat back to get a better look at her. “You feeling up to snuff today?”

      “I don’t know what that means, but I think it means I’m good. I always am. After.” Her lips drew in as she contemplated him. “Are you up to snuff?”

      He laughed. “Yeah, I am.”

      “Your dad says you sleep off the headaches. Does that help?”

      She had a lot of questions for a little girl. The questions were bigger than she was, but he guessed with her seizures she had a maturity most nine-year-olds didn’t possess.

      “Yeah, it helps. I drink tea and I sleep. Usually when I wake up I’m better.”

      “Is it because of the scar on your head?”

      There was no easy way to dodge these questions and no telling when she’d stop asking them.

      “Yes, it’s because of the scar.”

      “I don’t have any scars. My mom says sometimes kids just have seizures. And I might outgrow it.”

      “That would be good.”

      “Will you outgrow your headaches?” she asked, completely serious.

      “I might. Does your mom know you’re out here?”

      She shook her head and held tight to the kitten, which decided it might be time to make a break for it. “Did I ask too many questions? My mom says I’m nosy. I don’t think I am. I just like to know stuff, and you can’t know if you don’t ask.”

      “I guess you have a good point.” He gestured at the tabby, which had started to yowl. “You might want to let that kitten go before you get scratched,” he warned.

      The kitten jumped free and scampered sideways out of the stall, hissing as it ran for cover at the other end of the stable. Allie stepped out in turn and watched it make its escape.

      “I was going to name him Stripe.” She let out a big sigh.

      “I’m sure he won’t mind a name.”

      She frowned. “Yeah, but now he’s gone. I’ve never had a cat before. We couldn’t have pets at our apartment in Arizona.”

      He beat down the desire to ask his own questions. Questions were dangerous. Because they resulted in answers and that meant knowing a little too much about people.

      The young person standing in front of him seemed to be making a valiant attempt to fight tears. If she hadn’t looked sad he wouldn’t have handed her the horse brush. As much as he didn’t consider himself to be a kid person, he’d kind of grown fond of smaller humans since Carson had shown up with his two. Maggie and Andy were as cute as two kids could be. This one seemed the same. She was smart and funny, and when a tear trickled down her cheek she dashed it away with an aggravated flick of a finger.

      “How about brushing Shorty for me?” he offered.

      She looked at the brush and looked at the sixteen-hand Quarter Horse. She didn’t seem quite as sure of herself as she had when she first peeked up over the stall door.

      “So where’s your mom?” he asked as he grabbed a step stool and lifted her to stand on it. She looked unsure, so he guided her hand to brush the horse’s neck.

      As she brushed Shorty, Isaac glanced toward the double-door entrance to the stable. No sign of anyone looking for a runaway kid.

      “She’s meeting with Mr. West. That’s your dad,” she informed him.

      He chuckled and she kept brushing.

      “Did you stay in town last night?” he asked. He hated that he was so curious. But there was something about Rebecca Barnes. She was a mix of strength and sweetness, and then there was that slightly wounded and not-so-trusting glint in her eye.

      Someone had hurt her. Maybe more than one someone.

      He shook off the questions that he considered asking the little girl, who was busy brushing his horse, talking to it as if they were sharing their best-kept secrets.

      “Nope.” Allie handed him the brush. “We stayed here.”

      “Here?”

      She gave him a curious look. “Are you going to be sick again?”

      “I wasn’t sick,” he insisted. “And no, I’m not. I’m just surprised. I didn’t know you stayed here.”

      “Because you were sleeping,” she said, sounding matter-of-fact. “We had dinner with Jack. He told us Maria made the casserole. It was better than anything my mom can cook. She burns stuff. She says it’s because she’s distracted.”

      “She wouldn’t want you telling everyone that she can’t cook,” he warned.

      “You’re not everyone. Anyway, we stayed here. In the garage. It’s a nice garage with no cars in it, so I don’t know why it’s called a garage.”

      They’d stayed on the ranch. The thought unsettled him.

      How much could he or should he ask without seeming too curious? He felt like a sixteen-year-old with a crush on the СКАЧАТЬ