If Wishes Were Horses.... Judith Duncan

pair of jeans, then slipped down the hall and into Abby’s room, confiscating the clock. He’d be damned if he was going to let an alarm clock wake her.

      He made the kids flapjacks for breakfast, managing to outmaneuver his niece when she tried to exploit his boots-in-the-house misdemeanor. And he didn’t even try to play referee when the two of them got into a pitched battle in the front hall over who got to go out the door first. He simply grabbed them both by the back of their school jackets and set them on the doorstep like a pair of boots. Obviously, by the stunned looks on their faces, their mother was more into negotiation and refereeing. Cody looked slightly peeved when the bus pulled away, but Sarah was dramatically blowing kisses from the back window. Conner couldn’t help but grin, wondering what nefarious schemes she was cooking up in that little head of hers.

      He watched the bus disappear around the curve, then turned and went back into the house, his expression turning grim. It was time to take care of business. And it didn’t matter whether Abby liked it or not, he was taking over.

      It took him no time to find the information he needed on the New York loan company—all he had to do was go through the efficiently organized desk in Abby’s office. With everything spread out before him, he made a list of things he had to deal with today, not the least of which was the branding.

      With a fresh cup of coffee at his elbow, he used the phone in Abby’s office to handle the loan company, and he used his cell phone to keep up a running dialogue with Jake and Tanner at Cripple Creek. As crazy as it was, he could almost see the humor in it. It was the kind of situation a phone company would have snapped up for a TV commercial—a rancher directing the spring branding operation on one phone, while dealing with a financial institution in a different country on another.

      And between specific instructions on the select group of calves he wanted left as bulls, he used Abby’s fax machine to fax his bank in Bolton his signature, authorizing his accounts manager to transfer the required funds to the loan company in New York. In less than an hour and a half, he had everything organized and settled. He figured with two phones and a fax, a person could darned near move mountains.

      It was just before ten when Abby finally made an appearance. Conner was sitting at the kitchen table, another cup of coffee by his elbow, reading the newspaper when she stumbled in. She looked like hell—and he could tell she was on the verge of panic. He didn’t give that panic a chance to gather momentum. Before she could say anything, he held up his hand to halt her. “Kids on the bus, fed, teeth brushed, faces washed, socks matched.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “So take a load off, Mother. There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”

      Normally, she would have nailed him with some sharp snippy comment, but she just stood there staring at him, the most awful look in her eyes. Then she covered her face with her hands and simply fell apart. Feeling as if he had inadvertently broadsided her somehow, Conner launched himself out of the chair, forgetting all his rules about keeping his distance.

      He was just about to grab her when Abby stuck her arm out, as if blocking him. “Don’t,” she sobbed. “Don’t be nice to me, Conner. I can’t handle ‘nice’ right now.”

      It was so Abby, that kind of comment, that he stopped dead in his tracks, not sure what in hell he should do. He had never felt so out of his depth in his whole life. She visibly pulled herself together and roughly dried her face on the baggy purple sweatshirt she was wearing. Then squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and marched over to the cupboard, yanked a mug off a shelf, slammed it on the counter and slopped coffee into it.

      If she hadn’t looked so awful, and if she hadn’t damned near scared him half to death, he would have laughed. But this was no laughing matter. This woman was running on sheer grit and not a whole lot else, and he wasn’t going to stand around, waiting for her to unravel. He was going to start making some critical decisions here, whether she liked it or not.

      Acid rolling around in his gut, he went over to the table, sat down and propped his feet up on another chair. Making sure his expression was a whole lot calmer than he felt, he slouched back and laced his hands across his chest. Giving himself a couple of seconds to get a grip, he squared his jaw and spoke. “Sit down, Abby.”

      He had never used that abrupt tone on her—never—and her head came up and she looked at him as if he’d just said something foul and disgusting.

      He fixed her with a steady stare. “You better sit down, Abby. This is going to take a while.”

      She mustered some attitude and gave him a sour look, but she did sit down, plunking her mug on the table.

      Not moving, Conner contemplated what to hit her with first. He figured he might as well start at the top. “I found the statements from the loan company in your desk—”

      She started to get up, and he held up his hand, giving her a warning look. “You better get your butt in that chair, Abigail. Like I said, this is going to take a while.” She settled into her chair, a stunned look on her face, as if she didn’t know this person before her. Which was good. Conner wasn’t sure he knew this person either. He kept the same businesslike tone. “As I said, I found the statement from the loan company, and as of an hour and a half ago, the loan has been paid off. They are out of your hair, permanently.” He watched her too-thin face, and he caught a glimmer of acute relief in her eyes—as if a huge threat had been removed. He let his expression relax as he continued, his tone softer. “And I looked over your accounts, and the cold hard truth is that you need to unload this house. You can’t afford to keep it—it’s just going to drag you down deeper. So I have a plan.” Straightening, he dropped his feet to the floor, then leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. His expression determined, he fixed his gaze on hers. “I think we should call a real estate agent and list this place at a price that’s going to move it, but where you come out with no debt. Then I think we should get a moving company in here to pack everything up and haul it into storage.”

      She tried to resurrect some indignation, her chin coming up. “You had no right to go through my finances, Conner. That was damned rude.”

      Amused at her attempt to cut him down, he looked straight into her eyes. “No I didn’t, and yes I am.” He leaned back again, continuing with his plan. “After we get all that straightened away, I’m going to call the kids’ school, tell them there’s a family emergency, then I’m packing you all up and taking you back to Cripple Creek for the summer.”

      That stark look was back in her eyes and her face was so pale it was scary. Obviously struggling, she clasped her hands between her legs and opened her mouth to speak. Conner knew she was going to set up a big argument. He never even gave her a chance to get started. “Don’t even think about arguing with me, Abby,” he said, his tone firm. “You’re coming home for the summer, and that’s that.”

      She looked like a pathetic waif sitting there, the bones of her shoulders pronounced under the fleece fabric. Her hair was mostly out of the ponytail, and she just looked so damned forlorn. He would have given anything to have the right to go over there, pick her up and just hold her. But that was not his right—or his mission.

      She never took her eyes off him, and his gut clenched when he realized she was trembling. He gave her a wry smile, his gaze fixed on her. “It’s a good plan, Abby,” he said softly. “You’ll have the whole summer to get it back together, and the kids will love it.”

      Her eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Then she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, two tears spilling out. “I would have made it through if you hadn’t showed up,” she whispered brokenly. “I would have.”

      Conner laced his hands tighter together to keep from touching her. She was fighting her little fight, and he respected her for that. And he knew it just wasn’t in her to go down without a struggle. “I know you would have. But it’s going to make me feel a whole lot better if you let me help you over this hump.”

      She opened her eyes and stared at him, a hollow look back in her eyes; then she took a deep breath, as if fortifying herself. “This is only a loan,” she said, trying to call up some of her usual stubbornness.