remember a time when he didn’t know Willow Renalls, though they rarely said much to each other. He thought he remembered asking her to dance at a seventh-grade dance once, and she was his lab partner in biology one semester.
She appeared with the Cokes and a basket of hot rolls. They laughed about his last week’s date using all the condiments as they put butter and jelly on the rolls. Then they talked about all they’d done and hadn’t done since they graduated. Willow wanted to start junior college, but she hadn’t had the money, and Beau told her about his plans to make it big. Now and then he tripped over a word, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Thirty minutes flew by, and Willow finally stood to leave.
“I’ll pay for the d-drinks,” Beau said, feeling awkward for the first time since she’d sat down.
“No, they’re on me tonight. You can get them next time.”
Beau grinned. “N-next time. I-I like the sound of that.” He wanted to thank her for the normal conversation and for not judging him by the company he’d kept last week.
As he walked out he thought about how much easier it was to dream when they were in high school. Just saying you wanted to be something made everyone around you think it was a possibility, but now dreams seemed slippery and distant, layered between days until they were almost invisible.
He glanced back into the truck stop. Willow looked up from cleaning the table where they’d sat. She probably couldn’t see him standing outside in the dark, but he could see her clearly, her brown hair pulled in a ponytail and a slight smile on her lips like she was listening to her favorite song in her head.
Most folks wouldn’t notice, but she was pretty in her own way.
His kind of pretty, Beau thought as he walked to his car.
Chapter 10
S UNDAY MORNING
S EPTEMBER 18
T URNER R ANCH
T INCH T URNER SPENT AN HOUR CALMING DOWN A DEVIL of a mare who’d been in an accident one stormy night a month ago. The truck she was being hauled in jackknifed on a slick road, causing a pileup.
The trucker transporting the horse had bloodied the gray’s neck trying to pull her from the wreck with a chain, and the patrolman on the scene suggested putting her down because the mare was obviously in a great deal of pain.
Lucky for the gray mare, a farmer who knew horses stopped to help. He climbed into the wreckage and blindfolded the horse with his jacket. Unable to see all the flashing lights and lightning, the animal calmed.
The farmer sat beside her stroking the trapped horse’sneck as she gave birth to a stillborn colt. In the chaos around them, no one noticed. No one cared.
Tinch had heard that it was almost dawn before they freed the mare. She had several deep cuts. For the next week Tinch wasn’t sure where the horse went or how the gray was treated. The vet who finally took care of her said the owner didn’t want to pay and told him to keep the animal. He claimed she wasn’t worth the cost of putting her down.
The vet in Clifton Creek called the vet in Harmony, who e-mailed Tinch and described the problem. Both men knew that Tinch would go get her and bring the mare home. They had a hell of a time getting her into a trailer, but they cared enough to make the effort. The doctor who’d worked on the mare started calling her Stormy, and Tinch barely noticed what her name had been when the vet handed over her papers to him.
Half the horses Tinch kept in his barn belonged to no one, or more accurately to him by default. Tinch wasn’t sure what the gray had been through between the wreck and the day he picked her up, but it must have been horrible because she hated anyone, man or animal, who got near her.
He finally got her in a clean stall, swearing and sweating as much as the horse. “I don’t know if I got enough lifetime left to gentle you, darlin’,” Tinch shouted over her stomping and snorting.
He grabbed the bucket and headed for the wash stand. Popping the
She appeared with the Cokes and a basket of hot rolls. They laughed about his last week’s date using all the condiments as they put butter and jelly on the rolls. Then they talked about all they’d done and hadn’t done since they graduated. Willow wanted to start junior college, but she hadn’t had the money, and Beau told her about his plans to make it big. Now and then he tripped over a word, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Thirty minutes flew by, and Willow finally stood to leave.
“I’ll pay for the d-drinks,” Beau said, feeling awkward for the first time since she’d sat down.
“No, they’re on me tonight. You can get them next time.”
Beau grinned. “N-next time. I-I like the sound of that.” He wanted to thank her for the normal conversation and for not judging him by the company he’d kept last week.
As he walked out he thought about how much easier it was to dream when they were in high school. Just saying you wanted to be something made everyone around you think it was a possibility, but now dreams seemed slippery and distant, layered between days until they were almost invisible.
He glanced back into the truck stop. Willow looked up from cleaning the table where they’d sat. She probably couldn’t see him standing outside in the dark, but he could see her clearly, her brown hair pulled in a ponytail and a slight smile on her lips like she was listening to her favorite song in her head.
Most folks wouldn’t notice, but she was pretty in her own way.
His kind of pretty, Beau thought as he walked to his car.
Chapter 10
S UNDAY MORNING
S EPTEMBER 18
T URNER R ANCH
T INCH T URNER SPENT AN HOUR CALMING DOWN A DEVIL of a mare who’d been in an accident one stormy night a month ago. The truck she was being hauled in jackknifed on a slick road, causing a pileup.
The trucker transporting the horse had bloodied the gray’s neck trying to pull her from the wreck with a chain, and the patrolman on the scene suggested putting her down because the mare was obviously in a great deal of pain.
Lucky for the gray mare, a farmer who knew horses stopped to help. He climbed into the wreckage and blindfolded the horse with his jacket. Unable to see all the flashing lights and lightning, the animal calmed.
The farmer sat beside her stroking the trapped horse’sneck as she gave birth to a stillborn colt. In the chaos around them, no one noticed. No one cared.
Tinch had heard that it was almost dawn before they freed the mare. She had several deep cuts. For the next week Tinch wasn’t sure where the horse went or how the gray was treated. The vet who finally took care of her said the owner didn’t want to pay and told him to keep the animal. He claimed she wasn’t worth the cost of putting her down.
The vet in Clifton Creek called the vet in Harmony, who e-mailed Tinch and described the problem. Both men knew that Tinch would go get her and bring the mare home. They had a hell of a time getting her into a trailer, but they cared enough to make the effort. The doctor who’d worked on the mare started calling her Stormy, and Tinch barely noticed what her name had been when the vet handed over her papers to him.
Half the horses Tinch kept in his barn belonged to no one, or more accurately to him by default. Tinch wasn’t sure what the gray had been through between the wreck and the day he picked her up, but it must have been horrible because she hated anyone, man or animal, who got near her.
He finally got her in a clean stall, swearing and sweating as much as the horse. “I don’t know if I got enough lifetime left to gentle you, darlin’,” Tinch shouted over her stomping and snorting.
He grabbed the bucket and headed for the wash stand. Popping the
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