Accidental Hero. Loralee Lillibridge

seemed to take longer. She mopped her damp forehead with a frayed bandana and readjusted her baseball cap before tackling the last of the stalls.

      Well, that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? Dirty work. Hot, hard work. Any diversion to take her mind off last Saturday’s confrontation with Bo. Well, hot and hard wasn’t going to do it. Oh, yes, it would.

      Knock it off with the fantasies. What on earth had she been thinking when she shoved that kicked-up chili at him? She’d reacted like a child in the throes of a temper tantrum. Nice going, girl. Real maturity.

      She stabbed a forkful of new bedding straw and shook it over the clean floor, then made sure the last water trough was full. If she concentrated really hard, maybe she could keep her thoughts where they belonged—on the students that would be showing up in a few hours and not on the rush of emotions that kept her insides churning.

      Since it was too soon to put the horses in the arena, Abby made her way to the large room at the back of the barn where the tack was kept. She smiled as she passed the horses. The animals’ objections had been very clear when she’d entered their stalls earlier. Her intrusion at such an early hour had definitely not been appreciated, but fresh oats and clean bedding quickly appeased their grumpiness.

      “You are such sweeties,” she crooned, giving them each a loving caress as, one by one, they stuck their heads over the stall doors to greet her. Their whinnies and nickers made her heart swell with love. These docile creatures were her pride and joy. As senior citizens in Abby’s small equine community, the horses were patient beyond belief when it came to the students. Loving the attention they received, the animals were always eager to please and quick to respond to the sometimes timid commands of the novice riders. Somehow, they sensed their importance to the children. The uncanny communication between horse and student never ceased to amaze Abby, so she made pampering and indulging them a priority because—aside from the children—the horses were the most important part of her riding program.

      Some had been donated by area ranchers. She had managed to convince a few local ranch owners that, even though the horses were too old to be of much use on a working ranch, they were invaluable to the special children who attended the Sweet River Riders group. Abby loved every one of the horses dearly and so did the few volunteers who showed up each day to complete her staff. The children adored the animals without reservation, and most of them had bonded quickly with a favorite.

      In the long room where the tack was stored, Abby counted blankets, straightened the bump pads and lined up the helmets. While she sorted halters, reins, saddles and lead ropes, she thought back to when she had first begun her training to become a director of this worthwhile program.

      She’d been drifting through the days in a zombielike state for those first few months after Bo had left Sweet River, nursing her hurt like a wounded animal. Humiliation kept her from leaving the ranch for anything other than business until a friend in Austin called her and urged her to volunteer at an equine therapy school. After two weeks, Abby knew she wanted to be an active participant, and that she wanted to direct a program of her own. The intensity of the instruction and the enormity of such an undertaking were welcome challenges, enabling her to focus her energies on something besides her shattered heart. The children needed her. And Abby sorely needed them.

      Now, ironically, Shorty was insisting that Bo needed her. Well, she didn’t want to hear that and wasn’t about to be roped into feeling sorry for him. He had a wife. Let her do the honors. Hadn’t he chosen Marla over Abby and left Abby to face the sympathetic looks and whispers of the community all alone? Old anger reared its head again, triggered by the painful memory of rejection.

      A sob tore from her lips and she swore under her breath at her inability to conquer the past. Disgusted, she lugged a box containing plastic spray bottles of waterless cleaner from the storage closet, slammed it down on the table, and counted out a dozen of them. With her eyes squeezed tight against the intruding sting of tears, she made a silent demand. Get out of my head, Bo, and stay away from my heart.

      She plopped a stack of paper towels alongside the box and stepped back to make a quick visual check. Everything was in order and ready for the arrival of the twelve boys and girls. With six in each class, she could manage just fine. She was in control and darn well didn’t need Bo Ramsey around to complicate her life. Not now—not ever. But, bitterness still left a nasty aftertaste.

      She slid the barn door shut and headed for the house, blocking out her heart’s cry of panic. Salty tears tracked her cheeks and she licked them from her lips. The man from her past might be back in Sweet River, but she refused to acknowledge the possibility that she might feel something besides sympathy for him. Absolutely not. She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes before she reached the kitchen door. Crying was so stupid!

      “Breakfast is all ready, kitten.” Buck shoved a hot mat under the coffeepot and set it on the table. “You were already in the barn when I got up, so I figured you’d have chores done before I could get out there. Why didn’t you wake me?”

      The delicious aroma of Buck’s dark roast coffee brewing, along with the sizzle of bacon and hotcakes on the griddle, met Abby as she entered the kitchen. The screen door slammed behind her.

      “I woke up way too early, Pop. Besides, the hard work was good for me.” She gave him a good-morning kiss on his unshaven cheek and hurried to the bathroom to wash away the grime.

      “Mmmmm, the pancakes smell delicious,” she called with forced cheerfulness. “Blueberry’s my favorite.” Hurriedly, she splashed cold water on her face, then pressed a wet washcloth on her eyes to eliminate the telltale redness and hopefully, to relieve her escalating headache.

      By the time she returned to the kitchen, all evidence of her sudden, out-of-the-blue crying jag had been washed away. It would never do for Pop to know just how upset she was over Bo’s return. Pop’s health was her number one priority now, right along with keeping the school running in the black. Upsetting him would only add stress, and the doctor had warned her about that. His last checkup had shown a rise in his blood pressure, which surprised Abby, given her father’s even-tempered disposition.

      “By the way,” her father said after he sat down. “Marsha called. She can’t help out today. Caleb’s got a tooth that needs to be pulled. With Jan gone to that quarter horse show in San Antonio, we’ll be two helpers short.” He poured syrup over his pancakes.

      Abby frowned. “Darn, I hoped with you filling in for Jan, we wouldn’t have a problem. I don’t know who else I can ask on such short notice.” Would there ever be a time when she didn’t have some sort of crisis in her life? Lately it seemed she had to carry her share and everyone else’s, too. Shoot, she was turning into a first-class whiner.

      She finished her coffee and pushed away from the table. “I’ll have to start calling around, but I don’t think it will be any use. The first group of kids will be here at nine. It’s after seven now.”

      Buck rose and carried his plate to the sink. “What about that Kelly boy? He’s been hanging around the feed store since school got out, looking for work.”

      “Does he know anything about horses?” Abby rinsed and stacked the dishes to put in the dishwasher later.

      “One way to find out,” Buck said. “Pick up the phone.”

      Abby’s headache grew from bitty-sized to mega-magnitude when Karl Kelly said, yep, he could sure use the work, and nope, he didn’t know much about horses but he reckoned he could learn.

      She’d felt awful when she told him it was a nonpaying job and even worse when he sighed and said “Oh well, it don’t matter, Miss Abby. Pa’ll get a job one of these days.”

      “Well,” Abby said thoughtfully, “I guess we could manage to pay you something.”

      The amount she mentioned had Karl bubbling over with gratitude. When she hung up the phone, Abby knew she’d done the right thing. Replacing the dishwasher could wait a while longer. So could her car’s air conditioner.

      “Teddie, good morning,” Abby called later