A Family For Rose. Nadia Nichols

“C’mon, Rose. You can help me get Old Joe and Sparky into the barn. We should give them a good brushing.”

      “But, Momma...” Rose protested as Shannon tugged her down the path away from the windmill.

      “You said you wanted to go riding, didn’t you?”

      “But, Momma...!” Rose was struggling to keep up with Shannon’s brisk pace.

      “We can’t go riding until the horses have been groomed, and we need to check the saddles and bridles, too, and clean them so they’re nice and shiny.”

      “But...!”

      “It’ll be easier going back down the trail than it was hiking up. Come on, we’ve got a lot to do before suppertime.”

      Rose dug her heels in and brought her mother to a halt. “Why was Grampy crying?”

      Crying? Shannon had just assumed, when she saw his red-rimmed eyes, that he’d been drinking. Had she been wrong? Was Rose right? Was that why he’d wiped his face? Filled with self-doubt, Shannon turned, knelt down and met her daughter’s somber gaze.

      “Maybe because he thought we’d left him, and he was feeling sad. But he’ll be okay now that he knows we’re still here. He’ll eat his lunch and work on the windmill and we’ll see him at suppertime. Don’t worry, your grampy’ll be fine.” She gave her daughter an encouraging smile. “Let’s go get Old Joe and Sparky all dolled up so we can show Grampy how good they look when he comes home.”

      Rose’s face brightened. “Okay,” she said. “Maybe then Grampy’ll teach me to ride.”

      Shannon glanced over Rose’s shoulder toward the old pickup truck. She’d seen her father cry only once, the day her mother died. Maybe Billy had been right. Maybe he really was glad she’d come back home. Maybe he’d even missed her a little bit all these years and just couldn’t show it.

      Or maybe he just had.

      “Maybe,” she said softly, hoping with all her heart it was so.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      THEY BROUGHT THE horses up to the barn and Shannon showed Rose how to hold the brush and currycomb, how to use a firm, gentle pressure and make the geldings’ eyes half close with the glorious pleasure of being groomed. Then she worked on getting the old burrs out of their manes and tails. Lord knows how long it’d been since they’d last had a good grooming, but the two old geldings clearly enjoyed every moment of it.

      Sparky remembered her. She’d half thought he wouldn’t, but the way he lipped her jacket pocket, figuring she’d have a treat secreted there for him, was a dead giveaway. She gave him a piece of carrot, showing Rose how to present it on the flat of her palm so her fingers wouldn’t get mistaken for the treat.

      “Hey, old Spark, I bet you still like to run, don’t you?” she said, rubbing his withers as he crunched on the carrot.

      “Does he run fast?” Rose asked.

      “He used to, and he could jump a four-foot fence. He’s too old for that now, but when he was young we competed in the barrel racing, and he’d always win for me. Always. He might not be pretty, but he sure could move.”

      “I think he’s pretty,” Rose said, stepping up beside Shannon to stroke the gelding’s shoulder.

      “I’m with you. I think he’s handsome and smart and talented. Now, let’s give Old Joe a treat. He’s a retired movie star. Your grandmother trained him, and he’s starred in more horse movies than any other. He’s a thoroughbred. See how much taller he is than Sparky? Sparky’s a quarter horse. Quarter horses can run really fast for a quarter of a mile, but thoroughbreds can run really fast for a lot farther.”

      “Was Old Joe a racehorse?”

      “He was a racehorse in most of his movies but not in real life,” Shannon began, then stopped when she heard the distant rumble of a vehicle approaching. Her heart rate trebled and she snatched Rose’s hand and pulled her out of the barn to find out who it was. Travis wouldn’t dare come here. He wouldn’t dare!

      She craned to see up the valley, then felt the tension rush out of her when she noticed a big truck hauling a gooseneck stock trailer. “I bet it’s that new shipment of government mustangs for your grampy to train,” she said, light-headed with relief. “Let’s open up the corral gate for them.”

      Ten minutes later the driver of the truck thanked her and departed, leaving behind six wild-eyed, scruffy-looking mustangs. Shannon kept Rose pulled tight beside her as they watched the horses circling the corral, the whites of their eyes flashing with fear. They were caked with dust and mud and sweat, and their manes and tails were tangled, yet they were wild and beautiful. “You stay away from these horses, Rose,” Shannon warned. “They’re wild and they could easily kill you if you went into the corral.”

      “I won’t hurt them, Momma,” Rose said.

      “I realize that, honey, but they don’t. All they know about humans is that we took them away from their band and brought them to a strange place. We robbed them of their freedom. They have no reason to trust us or like us.”

      “Do you think they ever will, Momma?” Rose asked, watching them stampede around the corral, her eyes as wide as theirs.

      “That’s Grampy’s job, to make sure they do, and he’s good at it. Come on, let’s turn Sparky and Old Joe loose and carry the saddles up to the house. We can work on them out on the porch and keep Tess company.”

      Shannon carried the saddles and Rose held the bridles. Had saddles always been this heavy? Her arms were aching by the time she set them down on the porch. Tess lifted her head and gazed up at her for a long moment, thumped her tail twice, then returned to her nap. Shannon was just settling down to the job of cleaning the saddles when she heard the approaching growl of the old farm tractor. It was Billy, and he was making for the house at full throttle, still hauling the tedder behind him. He braked below the porch and cut the tractor’s engine.

      “I saw the dust coming down the road,” he explained in the sudden silence. He followed Shannon’s gesture, spotted the horses in the corral and relaxed. Shannon realized he’d half expected to find Travis here. Maybe he’d been hoping Travis was dumb enough to come, so Billy could flatten him again like he had on prom night. The thought of Billy protecting her brought a flush of warmth to her cheeks.

      “They’re a good-looking bunch,” she said. “A little spooked right now, but they’ll settle down.”

      “They’d settle down a whole lot faster if it was the dead of winter and they were cold and hungry.” He paused.

      “You find your father?”

      Shannon nodded. “He was up at the windmill. How’s the haying coming along?”

      “Fields are all mowed and turned once. With any luck we’ll be done by nightfall tomorrow. They’re predicting rain tomorrow night. Heard the forecast on my way back from town this morning.”

      “That’s cutting it real close.”

      “If the tractor doesn’t break down again we’ll make it.”

      “Maybe.” Billy was looking a mite whipped, but Shannon wasn’t about to say so. “I can help you out, but we’ll need another hand or two to get it into the barn before it rains.”

      “Thought I’d head into town after supper, see if I can scare up some more eager volunteers,” Billy said.

      “Good help’s usually pretty scarce when it comes to pitching hay bales.”

      Billy grinned. “True enough. But once I mention they’ll be working alongside a famous country-and-western singer, the whole town of Bear Paw’ll turn out.”

      “Fine