Nobody's Dream (11 page)

Thank you, Goddess.

After filling their plates at the stove, they sat at the table and ate in silence for a few moments.

“Can’t believe I’m eating beets. You sure make them taste better than the ones my momma boiled and slathered with butter.”

“It is
mi
mamá’s
recipe.” She was surprised he ate them without balking if he did not care for beets, but his second bite had been as big as his first. Apparently, he was an adventurous eater.

“So your brother will be coming for a visit?”

“Yes. In a couple of weeks.”

“I’m an only child. Must be nice having a sibling.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes it can also be exasperating. Eduardo is very…protective of me. Smothering almost. Bossy. He is the older one. I love him, but we do not see eye to eye on many things, including how often I should return home for visits.” Hoping to change the subject, she asked, “Why did you start rescuing horses? I thought Kitty told me you were a carpenter and artist.”

“Just fell into it, kinda like most of the things I’ve done in my life. Heard about Picasso, a SAR-trained horse whose owner became too old and sick to care for him properly.” He paused a moment and took a deep breath. “Maggie and I used to dream about one day owning a small ranch in Texas, but…well, we didn’t…” He took another hearty bite and chewed slowly, perhaps to gather his thoughts before continuing. After swallowing, he continued. “But I had some money from the insurance policy she had at the university and decided it would be a nice legacy for her if I started a little horse sanctuary up here. It’s almost as easy to take care of four horses as it is one.”

“Why did your other horses need rescuing?”

Lucas clenched his jaw, exuding anger. She sat back to put more distance between them and glanced toward the door, certain she could escape if need be. But somehow she understood his anger was not directed toward her.

“O’Keeffe, Cassatt, and Fontana had been abused and neglected.” He fisted his left hand as if wanting to punch something—or someone. “All three mustangs were rescued from a ranch downstate where they’d been through hell.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “How can anyone hurt a defenseless animal?”

“Search me.” He set his fork down and leaned toward her, stealing the air from the room and her lungs. “We work on establishing routine activities. I haven’t even started introducing them to other people yet. That’s why I need to go home as soon as I can.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I hope they’re learning with Matt that there are other people around who aren’t going to hurt them. I worry about how they’re handling my absence, though.”

She reached out and touched the top of his hand. “You are a good man for taking in those poor horses, Lucas.”

“Anybody with half a heart would have done the same.” His words reminded her of how she had explained her reason for rescuing him.

Suddenly seeing that her hand covered his, she yanked hers back. “But you gave up your house in Denver to move into a new place just so they could have a safe haven. That is more than most would do.”

Lucas shrugged and then grinned. “Always was a sucker for someone who needed rescuing. Even Maggie…” His smile faded, and he shook his head. “Sorry. Still miss her.”

She wondered what he had been about to say, but did not pry. “I cannot imagine what her death must have done to you. You are a very strong man to go on.”

“Not much choice.”

“But I hope you will never be afraid to do what is right, especially if the well-being of a person or an animal is at stake. ‘We can judge the heart of a man by his treatment of animals.’”

Lucas met her gaze. “That’s one of my favorite quotes from Kant.”

She smiled, surprised to find he’d read the philosopher. “Mine, too.” There was more to Lucas Denton than met the eye, but his love of animals told her he was a gentle, caring man.

The silence drew out a moment, but she did not feel discomfort in the quietude. Perhaps Lucas would find some of the usefulness he sought by spending time with her alpacas. Might make him feel less frustrated, too. He seemed to be someone who needed to be doing something to keep from going stark raving mad.

“How would you like to help me prepare my babies for bed?”

He quirked a brow and then nodded. “I’d like that a lot. Let me just check in with Matt first, and then I’ll grab my coat.”

Chapter Three

L
uke didn’t know what had changed the mood between them, but he welcomed this relaxed Cassie over the one with her defenses on high alert.

Like him, she had a soft spot for any living creature in need. They also had art in common.

While cooking supper, she’d taken off her poncho. He’d tried not to stare and make her uncomfortable, but the girl had curves in all the right places. She shouldn’t hide her body so much.

After the dishes had been scraped and stacked in the sink to soak for washing later, he followed her outside to the shed. The sun was setting, its softer rays gleaming off the drifts of snow. When had the blizzard ended?

A quick survey of the compound revealed a shed to the left, a lean-to nearby half-sheltering her Tahoe, and a more modern but smaller structure down a winding path from the cabin’s front door. Her studio? He hoped she’d allow him inside before he had to leave. But he’d wait for an invitation.

Cassie had donned a wool poncho that came to her knees. At least this time there was reason for being bundled up. Man, it was frigid up here, and the wind blew like a banshee.

She slid the bolt back and opened the door to the shed. He grabbed for it and held it against the battering winds until she entered then followed her inside, letting the door slam shut. The shed smelled of straw and alfalfa. Warmth from the animals and what looked like a heating system over each of four stalls took the chill away.

“Nice and cozy in here.”

He didn’t remind her that these creatures were used to being outdoors in the mountain climes of South America. “Does all the heat affect how thick their fleece is?”

She ran her hand down the flank of one very pregnant alpaca. “If it does, then so be it. I want them to be comfortable.”

Cassie had a good heart. He came up on the other side of the pregnant one. “When’s she due?”

“Any time really, but the vet says two weeks.”

He’d probably miss out on seeing the birth, which bothered him for some reason. He would have liked to experience that with Cassie.

He stroked the animal’s long neck. “Man, that’s soft.”

“Nothing softer. Graciela is the only one pregnant now. I wanted to start slowly this first year until I know what I am doing.”

“Good thinking.” To the alpaca, he said, “Did you know you have one smart momma, Gracie?”

The animal made a humming noise as if agreeing with him.

He glanced across the animal’s back to where Cassie retrieved two empty buckets and a scoop for the bags of feed. The woman didn’t acknowledge his words of praise. Perhaps she didn’t take compliments too well. He’d have to make sure she heard them often and fix that problem.

As he filled the buckets, she instructed him on how much feed to place in each of the stalls. When she walked away and then nearly topped off two large buckets with water, he set the scoop down. Sure enough, she lifted them without asking for help.

“Here, I’ll carry the water. You dish out the feed.”

She refused to set the buckets down. “No, I do this all the time.” The words were forced out between tight lips.

Not while I’m around, you don’t.

Cassie glared at him when he reached for one of the buckets she held, but she relented and set it down before carrying the other to the opposite end of the shed.
Stubborn girl
. He picked it up and poured it into Gracie’s water trough.

As they worked together, he learned the names of the other three—Tika, Killa, and Qhawa—all girls, Cassie said. “Unusual names.”

“They are Quechua girl names.
Mi
mamá
is Quechua, a major native population in Peru, descendants of the Incas. Tika means ‘flower.’ I chose it because of her orange-colored fleece. Killa for ‘moon’.” He noticed that one was snow-white. “And Qhawa stands for ‘one who watches or monitors’.” She wrapped her arms around the neck of the last one—a mix of white and tan. “She is very curious, but timid. Is that not right, Qhawa?”

Luke looked into Qhawa’s big brown eyes and sensed the alpaca never missed a thing. She’d been watching him since he’d come inside the shed.

“You’re good at giving your animals meaningful names. When I adopted Picasso, he already had his name. For most of the others, I just named them after some of Maggie’s favorite women painters.”
Except for O’Keeffe
.

He lifted the bucket and dumped it into her water trough as he glanced back at the pregnant one. “Why doesn’t Gracie have a Quechua name?”

“I gave her a Latin name to honor that part of my heritage.” She left the feed scoop in Qhawa’s bin and walked toward the white and tan, very pregnant alpaca. Cassie buried her face in Gracie’s neck while wrapping her arms around the alpaca. “Graciela means blessing or favor, because she is a gift from the Goddess to help me heal.”

Cassie ended the embrace abruptly without further explanation and returned to the feed bins. Was Cassie sick? She didn’t appear to be. So, did she mean another type of healing? Any fool could see she had a chip on her shoulder when it came to men.

God, he hoped some asshole hadn’t taken advantage of her innocence. Or maybe she was recovering from a traumatic loss. With the anniversary of Maggie’s death coming up in days, he certainly could relate there.

Luke filled two more buckets with water for the last two stalls, trying not to think about this gentle soul from Peru suffering pain of any kind. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been hurt and hurt badly by some jerk.

Would he ever be able to convince her to confide in him?

“That should take care of them for now.” Cassie clapped the alpaca hair off her hands and waited while he stowed the buckets upside down for tomorrow’s use. He pushed the door open against the ever-present wind and let her precede him into the cold.

As they drew near the cabin door, he pointed to the building down the path to the left. “Is that your studio?”

She only nodded and continued toward the cabin door. Having Cassie let him anywhere near her studio didn’t seem likely in the near future.

*     *     *

Six nights later, no closer to going home, Luke found himself beside Cassie in the shed again, only this time watching Gracie struggle through another contraction. He placed his hand on her swollen belly, but had no freaking clue what signs to watch for. His SAR training covered the basics of delivering human babies, but nothing about alpacas. He patted the soon-to-be momma’s belly, hoping to reassure and comfort her, to let her know she wasn’t alone in her maiden birth.

“I read up on birthing crias and watched some online videos.” At the sound of Cassie’s voice, Luke turned to the woman who had spoken to him only rarely these past few days. They had shared meals, but the rest of the time she’d escaped to the privacy of her studio, leaving him to fend for himself. He’d managed to split some wood when he didn’t think she’d jump down his throat. Felt good to do something active and try to rebuild his strength after his bout with hypothermia and a possible concussion had left him weaker than a newborn foal.

Cassie stroked the alpaca’s neck, her fingers combing through the soft fleece. Cassie hadn’t let her guard down many times since he came to, but watching her touch the animal with such tenderness broke open a longing inside he’d thought had been buried too deep to surface again.

Not that Cassie would ever touch him that way. More likely he’d receive a kick in the butt to send him on his way down the mountain. She’d been sleeping in the studio the last few days. When she’d come running to tell him about Gracie’s labor, he’d been thrilled to be able to do something for her.

Now he wished she’d ask him to help her with something he could actually do well. If he screwed this up, she’d never forgive him.