Charity glanced over her shoulder. “Roger, come here and meet Buck Malone. He lives next door to my parents.” She drew the man up beside her. “Buck, this is Roger Bentley. Roger and I used to work in the same firm, before I quit to write full-time. He and his brothers are staying at the Leonard Ranch this week. He didn’t remember I was from Kings Meadow until we ran into each other before the parade. Small world, huh?”
“Yeah. Small world.” Balancing the paper plate on his thighs, Buck held out his left hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“And you.” Roger glanced at the casts on Buck’s arm and leg. “A horse do that to you?”
“No. A dog.”
Charity laughed. “What Buck didn’t say was that the dog who did it was mine.”
“Ouch.” Roger grinned at Charity.
Buck
really
didn’t like the guy.
“We’d better get something to eat ourselves,” Charity said. “See you later, Buck.”
“Yeah. See you later.”
T
HE FESTIVITIES HAD BEEN LIKE A TONIC FOR
Charity. She’d had to force herself to come, but once here, she’d had a great time. It was all so familiar—the people, the parade, the food—and it felt right to be a part of it.
She glanced over her shoulder as she and Roger headed back to the barbecue grills. Buck was right where he’d been,
of course, and his gaze followed her. Knowing it caused an odd flutter in her chest.
Since the evening she and Buck had returned from the hospital in Boise, Charity had spent every day doing the same four things—writing her book, analyzing her emotions, taking Cocoa for walks, and riding Buck’s horses.
When writing, she’d thought about Buck. A lot. How could she not, since he’d become the inspiration for her hero? She’d thought about the slightly disheveled look of his dark hair. The look that made her want to run her fingers through it. She’d thought about the lazy kind of smile he sometimes wore, when one side of his mouth curved higher than the other side.
When analyzing her emotions, she’d thought about Buck. A lot. He was steady and grounded. So unlike what she’d thought he was. So unlike Charity, who could be knocked off her feet by the slightest breeze. She needed to be more like him.
When walking the dog, she’d thought about Buck—and not just because of the part Cocoa had played in his broken bones. She’d thought about the life he had here in Kings Meadow. Simple. Uncomplicated.
And when riding the horses, she’d thought about . . . nothing. No. Not true. She’d thought about Buck then, too, and she’d imagined what he must look like astride a horse, Stetson shading his eyes, a relaxed grasp on the reins.
Why
do
I think of him so often? He’s just a neighbor. At most a friend
.
“Hey, look,” Roger said, intruding on her churning thoughts. “There are my brothers.”
She followed his gaze to where two men were talking
with three local gals. Mutual flirtation was obvious even from a distance.
“Do you mind if I join them?” Roger continued, eagerness in his voice.
Charity couldn’t help but smile, seeing the way he checked out the twenty-something females with his brothers. She didn’t mind that he would rather be with them. At one time it would have bothered her. Not today. “No. That’s fine. Go ahead. Hope the rest of your stay at the Leonard Ranch is great.”
“Thanks. It was good seeing you again, Charity. Take care. Good luck with your books.”
With a nod and a wave, she got in a line for one of the grills, exchanging greetings with people she’d known all of her life, answering a few questions about where her parents were now and how they were enjoying their trip abroad, thanking those who complimented her books and shrugging when they asked when the next one would release. But all the while, she felt a tug back toward the edge of the park. Back toward Buck Malone.
“Charity!”
The familiar voice made her spin about. Her eyes quickly found her sister, who hurried toward her, husband and daughter right behind.
“Terri!” They hugged. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Neither did we. We didn’t decide until this morning. Threw stuff in the car and here we are. Didn’t make the parade, but we won’t miss the food or the dancing and fireworks. You don’t care if we bunk at the house for a couple of nights?”
“Care? I’d love the company.” She tipped her head toward the grills. “I’m after a hamburger. You?”
“We’re all famished,” Terri replied.
Charity turned and hugged her thirteen-year-old niece, Frankie, who was looking much too grown up since the last time Charity had seen her. Then she hugged her brother-in-law, Rick. In line again and moving closer to the bank of grills, she and Terri hooked arms.
Her sister said, “I heard Sara and the baby are home.”
“Yes. Yesterday. Buck just told me.”
“Is he here?”
Charity nodded. “Back there, closer to the gazebo. A friend brought him.”
“I’ll have to say hi after we eat. And commiserate with him for what you and Cocoa did.”
Charity elbowed her sister but grinned as she said, “Sure. Whenever you want.”
W
HEN
B
UCK HAD CHOSEN THE SPOT TO SET HIS CAMP
chair—up a slight incline and overlooking the park, gazebo, and temporary dance floor—he hadn’t expected the location to work like a magnet, drawing people to him. He hardly had time to eat his burger before it got cold. Folks kept stopping by, asking how he was doing, wishing him well, passing along tidbits about happenings in Kings Meadow.
After about the fifteenth interruption, he started to wish he’d stayed home. But then, in a rare moment alone, he saw Charity walking toward him for the second time that day, and thoughts of wanting to go home vanished. Especially since that Roger fellow was nowhere in sight. But her sister, Terri, was.
“A nice surprise to see you here,” he said to Terri when the two women arrived.
She returned his smile. “I had to come see the damage my sister did to you.”
“My dog did the damage,” Charity protested as she rolled her eyes. “Not me. Thank you very much.”
Terri laughed as she sank to the ground, her gaze still on Buck. “I take it you won’t be dancing tonight.”
“Not tonight.” He enjoyed dancing when he had two good feet, but he didn’t think his trusty scooter would serve him well on the dance floor. “Rick come with you?”
“Yes.” Terri glanced around the park. “He and Frankie are out there somewhere. They’ll find us eventually.”
Buck’s gaze shifted to the younger Anderson sister. Charity was also seated on the grass by this time. It surprised him, how he noticed everything about her. The mixture of light and dark shades in her hair. The high cheekbones. The deep blue of her eyes. The fullness of her mouth. The nice curves of her slender body. The laugh that was distinctly hers. The way she walked.
Whoa. I wanted to help her. Nothing more. And she doesn’t even look like she needs help today
.
Right now it seemed everything about her was close to perfect. It seemed—
He looked away, his mouth and throat dry. He grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, removed the cap, and drank half of it before pausing to draw breath. By that time, others had come over to say hello to Terri and to ask Buck how he was doing.
Suddenly, the more people around, the better, as far as Buck was concerned.
F
REEDOM
!
Buck stood—sans both casts—at the fence and stared across the pasture to where his horses grazed at the far end of the property. A shallow creek ran along the back fence, and trees and shrubs lined its banks, providing shade at this time of day. He longed to slip through the slats of wood and stride out to the horses, maybe even swing up on one of them, but the doctor had told him to take it easy, especially since he was out of the casts earlier than expected. He had been instructed to do exercises to strengthen the muscles and get his flexibility back. Plus he had to wear a splint on his ankle. But until the swelling went down, it would be impossible to get that foot into a boot, so the splint didn’t matter much to Buck.
“I’ve seen much worse swelling,” the doctor had told him an hour ago. “It won’t be long before it looks normal again.” Dr. Frederick had also insisted Buck use a cane for the next week or so. Buck hadn’t intended to follow that advice, certain
he wouldn’t need it and vain enough not to want to look like an old man when out in public. But he had to admit, he was less steady on his feet than he’d expected.
He glanced down at his right wrist, wrapped in an Ace bandage, and began to turn it in small circles, first one way, then the other. No pain, but it had been weakened, like his ankle.
He turned from the fence, and his glance went in the direction of the Anderson home. Since the Fourth of July celebration they’d fallen into an easy routine. She would knock on the door, ask if he needed anything, stand on the stoop and chat with him about nothing in particular, fingers tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Then she would head out to the pasture and the horses.
Buck liked watching her brush them and pat them. He liked the easy way she talked to them, although he couldn’t hear her words. He took surprising pleasure in watching her ride. He also enjoyed looking out the window and watching her throw a ball for Cocoa or playing tug-of-war with a knotted rope. Simply looking at her made him feel good. And when she was out of sight, he missed her. He wanted to be with her.
He glanced down at his right foot, remembering how he’d thought it might be fun to have Charity around while he recuperated. It was supposed to have been a lark. After all, they weren’t headed in the same direction. They wanted different things out of life.
Only that didn’t feel as true now as it had back at the start.
Keeping an eye on the uneven ground, he headed for the house and a cool glass of iced tea. After that, he would sit down with his calendar and try to get some work done.
Update some records in the computer. Pay a few bills. Balance his checking and saving accounts. All of the paperwork that he’d let slide since his fall.
He was just inside the back door when the telephone rang. It was his brother.
“Hey. I heard you got your casts off early.”
“Yeah, the doctor said I’m a fast healer.”
“That’s great because Sara wants you to come over for dinner. You haven’t seen Eddy since we brought him home, and she’s dying to show him off to his uncle.”
“Are you sure that’s not too much for her?”
Ken lowered his voice. “Her mom’s doing the cooking. Come on, bro. I’m outnumbered.”
Buck laughed.
“Sure. You find it funny. You know I’m fond of Irene, but she’s been here almost two weeks. The house seems to be shrinking.”
“All right. I’ll come. What time?”
“Would now be too soon?”
Buck thought of all the bookkeeping tasks he needed to do, then answered, “Nope. Not too soon. I’ll be right over.”
“Oh. You can drive? I thought I’d come get you.”
“Not a chance. No more chauffeuring for me. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He dropped the phone into its cradle, took the keys to his truck in one hand and the cane in the other, and headed outside again.
It felt strange to be behind the wheel after so many weeks of being driven around by his brother and friends. Tom Butler had taken him to and from the clinic that morning. Hopefully it would be Buck’s last time to need that kind of help. Ever.
He shoved the clutch to the floor with his left foot, then placed his right foot on the gas pedal, moving it around a bit, testing the up-and-down motion. The splint didn’t interfere. Then he checked the brake as well. His ankle felt a little too weak—at least if a fast, hard brake was required—but he could use his left foot in an emergency.
As he pulled out onto the road, he couldn’t help himself. He leaned out the window and let out a whoop of joy.
Freedom!
W
ITH A SIGH
, C
HARITY CLOSED HER LAPTOP AND
rolled her chair back from the desk. When she whirled the chair around, she was surprised to find the light fading outside. She couldn’t believe it was that late. Was a storm brewing? She rose and went to the window. No. The sky was clear. A glance at the bedside clock told her it was after nine p.m. No wonder her backside felt numb. She hadn’t moved from the chair in several hours.
Cocoa whimpered from the doorway.
Charity turned. “I’m sorry, girl. Need out?”
The dog wagged her tail and did a little dance.
“All right.” Charity laughed. “Let’s go outside.”
As usual, Cocoa didn’t wait around for her mistress. She was down the stairs in an instant and stood near the door, waiting for Charity to catch up with her.
“No walk today, girl. It’s too late. I’ll throw the ball for you instead.” She reached for the yellow tennis ball that she kept in a basket near the door.
Cocoa quivered with excitement from the tip of her nose
to the tip of her tail. The moment they were both outside, Charity threw the ball as hard as she could in the direction of Buck’s front yard, and the dog took off after it. Charity settled onto the top step of the front porch.
Buck’s truck was gone from the side of his house, the spot where it had been ever since the accident. The pickup hadn’t been there the last time she’d looked either. She flinched at the thought, not liking that she’d made note of it.
Cocoa brought the ball back and Charity threw it again—in the same direction.
Wasn’t it enough that she thought about Buck during the day while she was writing? Lately he had invaded her dreams as well. Which seemed worse—more dangerous—than her old nightmares, as crazy as that sounded.
She was about to throw the ball one more time for Cocoa when the sounds of Buck’s truck drew her eyes to the road. He waved at her through the open window of his pickup as he turned into the driveway.
“Sit, Cocoa.”
The dog obeyed as Charity rose to her feet.
Buck got out of the truck and, grinning, walked toward her, a cane in one hand.
She couldn’t help but return his smile. “Look at you.”