“Oh, come off it, Shelby.” She glowered at her. “We both know that ruse has fallen off the wagon. In fact—” She slipped her arm through Jordan’s. “I just got another call from one Ann Wise. Seems she’s firmed up that audition with the same producer who is making Jordan’s movie. So your secret is safe…at least until after we see how the audition goes. Now…” She slanted him an eyelash-fluttering glance. “What else do you do around here besides take riding lessons and shovel manure?” She let her gaze roam over him from head to toe. “Seems a waste…in more ways than one.”
“Not the way I look at it.” His face twitched into what he hoped wasn’t an all-out sneer.
“Well, if you get tired of Shelby’s teaching methods, just mosey on over to my place. There’s a few things I can show you that I’ll just bet she can’t.” She winked up at him before turning back toward her car. “See you, Shelby. Be happy I didn’t decide to sue for defamation of character.”
Putting her sunglasses back in place, she slid behind the wheel of her BMW. She started the motor and revved it before she swung the vehicle in a wide circle around the couple, tearing up grass, and then gunned down the drive to the road.
“Quite a character.” Jordan’s lips jerked up at the ends.
“That’s a polite description.” They started on toward the house.
“She isn’t shy about stating what she wants.” Jordan followed her inside and headed for the refrigerator. “Man, she all but undressed me with her eyes.” He took out two longnecks and passed her one. “I may come across as a simple country boy, but I’d have to be mentally challenged not to have caught her meaning. But she did leave me wondering about what she could show me that you couldn’t. I’m not sure she was talking about horseback riding, either.”
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to go on wondering, cowboy. At least if you plan to stay on my premises. I’ve grown accustomed to her, so a lot of what she says just flies over my head.” Shelby accepted the ice-cold bottle. She raised her beer, and he clicked his against it. “Cheers. Here’s to us for completing a successful morning.”
“Yeah, good for us. Let’s take these out onto the verandah, where we can enjoy the sea breeze.”
****
“Man, that’s the last time I drink like that.” Travis came up onto the verandah and flopped down on the hammock, an ice bag in one hand. “I haven’t felt this bad since I can’t remember when.”
“You’ll live.” Jordan quirked a grin at Shelby. “Believe me. Been there, felt like that.”
“Good to hear.” Travis closed his eyes and covered them with the bag. “Thanks for putting me up at the cabin last night, Jake. I wasn’t something Shelby should have had to deal with. This morning I didn’t think I’d live to see my next birthday…and then I was afraid I would.”
“Jake showed Midnight Black to a client this morning.” Shelby winked at Jordan.
“What!” Travis bolted upright, ice bag dropping into his lap. “Ouch! And he’s…you’re—” He turned to the man sitting on the railing.
“We’re both still in one piece and doing just fine, thank you very much.” Jordan saluted him with the beer bottle. “Thus the celebratory drink.”
“You sang to him.” Travis sank back onto the hammock, a weak but knowing grin on his face. “Man, it even hurts to smile.”
“Worked like a charm.”
“Great.” Travis eased back into a reclining position and replaced his ice bag. “So does this mean you’ll be taking over Black’s training?” He shot Shelby a conspiratorial wink.
“Not on your life, chum. I barely stayed in the saddle for the loping bit. Pure luck Kirby Nelson isn’t a horseman and his trainer was too interested in the horse to pay much attention to the rider.”
“Kirby Nelson…
the
Kirby Nelson? And I missed out on meeting him!”
“Sometimes punishment comes in strange packages.” Shelby arose. “Now it’s time for lunch.” She turned to Jordan. “Think your stomach can handle it?”
“As long as it’s not deep-fried and served after midnight.” He got up. “Let me help. I don’t think your number-one hand is in any shape for it.”
“Just get me a large Alka-Seltzer,” Travis moaned and rolled over on his side.
“Sleep it off, little brother. That’s the only cure.”
Jordan followed Shelby inside.
“Best lesson he’ll ever get about drinking.” He sat down at the kitchen table to finish his beer as Shelby took a ham from the refrigerator and began to make sandwiches. “Nothing better than feeling like death warmed over to convince a man not to do that again.”
“And you speak from experience?”
“Sure do. Did the same thing on my twenty-first. Luckily I had a big brother who acted as designated driver that night.”
“Just like you did for Travis.” She paused in taking bread from its box and turned to him. “Thanks, Jordan. I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. Glad to have the chance to do it for someone else.”
“But Travis’s being temporarily out of commission today isn’t good. First of all, the Midnight Black situation, which, thanks to you, we were able to take care of. Now there’s the question of the feed order I need from town. Travis was supposed to pick it up after lunch, and somehow I don’t see him doing it. I can’t go, because I have patients scheduled.”
“I’ll go.” Jordan polished off his beer and stood. “I’ll check the horses, have lunch, and leave right after. I should be back by two thirty or three at the latest.”
“Thanks. That would be great. But be careful. Don’t let anyone recognize you.”
****
“Got the feed. Man, that thunderstorm was short but intense.” Jordan’s voice changed tone sharply as he stepped into the kitchen. “What happened?” Shelby sat at the table, her face deathly pale. Travis leaned against the cupboards, his complexion the same.
“There’s been an accident.” His words cracked with emotion. “Midnight Fantasy was in the back pasture when the storm broke. Shel couldn’t get to her in time. The mare freaked, tried to leap the fence and broke a leg. Shelby had to put her down
.”
“Sweet Jesus!” Jordan stood staring at the pair, shock immobilizing him. “When?”
“About a half hour ago.” Travis shoved himself upright. “Jake, if you’ll take care of Shel, I’ll go and do…what has to be done.”
“Sure, sure.” As Travis passed him on his way to the door, he stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met, Travis’s swimming unashamedly with tears. Jordan could only nod his understanding before the younger man went out, letting the screen door slam behind him.
Jordan wet his lips and raked his mind about how to proceed. Words wouldn’t come. Instead he went to the counter, filled the electric kettle, plugged it in, and took a teapot down from a shelf. As he rummaged through the cupboards she spoke.
“What are you looking for?” Her voice sounded scratchy and raw.
“Teabags…even better, loose tea. Got any?”
“Above the stove. Why?”
“I’m making you hot, sweet tea…like my mother used to make whenever there was a family crisis.” He took out the bag of tea leaves.
“Thank you.” The pain in the two words hurt him.
“For what?” He turned to her. “Making tea? Maybe you’d better wait until you taste it before being grateful. I said my mother used to make it. I just watched. This will be a first attempt.” He smiled what he hoped was reassurance and caring.
“The tea is a nice gesture, but what I was really thanking you for was for understanding that Fantasy’s passing is a family tragedy.” She looked over at him and the tears came, streaming slowly down her cheeks to splash onto her hands clasped on the table.
“It’s okay.” He rounded the table in a flash, pulled a chair up beside her, and put an arm around her. And suddenly she was sobbing against his shoulder, sobbing deep, wrenching sobs that made his own heart ache.
“I know as a vet I’m supposed to see life and death as all part of the process, but Fantasy…that little mare gave her very best for me, jumped her heart out to try to help me win over Michelle. And then she gave me her baby, Fancy, the most gorgeous little mare we’ve ever had.”
Jordan felt a stinging sensation not far behind his own eyes. The kettle shrieked.
“You’d better get that.” With a ragged sniff, she pulled herself up in her chair and forced a smile. “We don’t want to burn the house down, as well.”
“Sure.” He got up, fetched a box of tissues from the top of the refrigerator for her, then went to unplug the kettle. As he swished hot water around in the teapot to warm it, he glanced back and saw her fluttering damp eyelashes as she struggled to regain control.
“You look like a real tea-making pro.” She drew a deep, shaky breath and blew her nose.
“Just a keen observer.” He emptied the pot, measured in tea leaves, and poured boiling water over them. “We’ll discover what kind of visual learner I am in a few minutes.”
“I should be doing better. I’m a professional, a vet, for God’s sake. Putting animals out of their suffering comes with the territory, even if it is one of my own.”
“Before being a veterinarian, you’re first and foremost a human being.” He returned to the chair beside her while he waited for the tea to steep. “If you didn’t show emotion on losing a creature that you loved, you’d be something a lot less. But, like my wise, tea-making mother always said, ‘that which you have cherished in your heart, you can never lose.’ ”
“Your mother must be a very special person.” Shelby looked over at him as he slouched forward, arms extended on the table in front of him, hands clasped.
“She is. You’d like her.” He turned to face her, and her eyes, softened by sadness, caught at his heart. He wanted to hold her until the hurt and pain dissolved, until she felt right again, but he knew that wouldn’t be wise.
All he could do was be there beside her trying to let her know he cared and understood.
“Tea must be ready.” He shoved back his chair as he got to his feet. “Strong and hot and with lots of sugar.”
When he returned with a steaming mug, the gratitude in her expression caused a tightness in his chest.
“I think I’ll take this up to my room and rest for a few minutes.” She stood, an effort at a smile trembling at the corners of her lips. “I have a patient at four o’clock that I can’t let down. A half hour of rest will set me straight again.”
“Sure.” He moved to let her pass.
In the kitchen doorway she stopped and spoke without looking back at him. “Thank you, Jordan.”
“No problem.” The knot tightened in his throat. In using his real name she was thanking the actual man, not the phony farm hand. “I’ll go and see if I can help Travis.”
****
He met Travis in front of his cabin. The younger man was dirty, his face streaked with sweat and, Jordan suspected, tears.
“Want to come in for a while?” Jordan indicated the door. “My house is your house…in more ways than one.” His attempt at a joke was feeble, but he didn’t know how else to proceed. “I may have a couple of cold beers.”
“Thanks, but I have to get up to the house. Shelby…”
“She’s gone to have a rest. Now how about taking me up on that invite?” He slapped a hand on Travis’s shoulder. “We can talk music…or anything you want.”
Travis hesitated. “Shel…”
“She needs to rest right now. Come on.” He opened the door and held it.
“Okay, but maybe a cola? I think I had enough beer on my birthday to hold me for a month or more.”
****
Five minutes later Travis stepped out of the small, antiquated bathroom in the cabin. He’d washed his face and run a comb through his hair.
“Feeling better?” Jordan handed him a can of ice-cold cola sweating in the heat of the day, then snapped open one for himself.
“As good as it gets under the circumstances.” He sank down on the edge of one of the two bunks running along alternate sides of the log walls. “Damn. Poor Shel. She loved that old mare.” He looked down at the can in his hands and swallowed hard.
“I know how she feels. Lost my dog when I was sixteen. I’d had him since I was four or five. It still hurts to think about Jake.”
“His name was Jake?” Travis looked over at him, surprise chasing away some of the hurt in his expression.
“Yeah.” He quirked a corner of his mouth into a half grin. “Explains my choice of aliases, doesn’t it?”
“Farm kid, weren’t you, Jordan…like me?” Jordan guessed where this was going.
“Sure was.”
“And still you made it big time in country music.”
“Yeah, well, I did have a darn good band backing me up. And then the luck of the Irish in being discovered by a really knowledgeable, really pushy agent.”
“But there’s no saying a guy like me couldn’t…” The hope and optimism in his eyes hurt Jordan.
“No, there’s definitely no saying. Here.” He reached for his guitar leaning against the wall by the woodstove in the corner. “Want to give this a go?” In an effort to change the subject, he handed it to him.
“Ah, man, Jordan Brooks’ guitar. Ah, man!” Travis set his cola aside and took it into his hands reverently.
“Give it a try.” Jordan took a chair at the scarred oak table and leaned back. “You sounded good with the band the other night, but I couldn’t get a read on just you. Let me hear what you can do.”
****
“Man, I can’t believe I just spent the last half hour playing Jordan Brooks’ guitar.” Travis leaned the instrument carefully against the bunk and shook his head in disbelief.
“Not the same thrill when you do it night after night.” Jordan polished off his cola. He avoided telling Travis how impressed he’d been. Shelby didn’t want her brother encouraged, and he wasn’t about to defy her…at least not right now. Still, the kid was good, very good, and deserved a chance…
“I’d like to do something for Shelby.” He changed the subject. “She needs something nice to happen to her right now. I’m open to suggestions, Travis.”
“Well…” Travis paused and looked down at his hands. “Hey.” He glanced up. “I’ve got it. Friday is her birthday. You could take her out.”
“Another birthday? Great. I’d like to take her to a fancy restaurant in town—flowers and the whole deal—but I can’t risk being recognized.”
“No problem. That’s not what she’d want anyhow.”
“What would she like?”