the run-down structure. Severed and ragged at the end, a rope hung from a beam. He wondered what kept a lone woman living here. Why didn’t she pack up and move into town? He had been teasing her when he’d mentioned repairing the barn, but he wasn’t certain he could chop enough wood to repay his debt.
He retrieved a rope halter that was hanging on the wall and slipped it onto Black Thunder before leading the stallion into the sunshine. At the corral, he bent and brought the horse’s foreleg up between his knees. He studied the festering wound and wondered if his back had looked this nasty when Miss Grant had tended it.
Releasing the foreleg, he knew he wouldn’t be traveling today. He looked toward the house. The dog had either captured the butterfly or given up because he was stretched out beneath the shade of a distant tree. A weakness settled in Austin’s legs. It galled him to have to admit Loree may have been right—he wasn’t quite recovered.
He ambled to the tree. Always watchful, the dog opened an eye and closed it. A flash of yellow caught Austin’s attention and he shifted his gaze. He leaned against the rough tree trunk. A strange sense of contentment stole over him as he watched Loree stand in the middle of a vegetable garden with a fawn nibbling something out of her cupped palm. Three other deer tore up the growing foliage. A family, he mused, and discontentment edged the peacefulness aside.
“I could string up some barbed wire for you,” he said.
The deer bounded into the thick grove of trees. Loree turned, her lightly golden brows drawn tightly together. “Why would I need barbed wire?”
“To protect your garden. Keep the pesky critters away.”
She looked toward the trees where the deer had disappeared. “They aren’t pesky, and I always grow more than I need.” She walked toward him, eyeing him suspiciously. “How are you feeling?”
Like he’d fallen from his horse, caught his foot in the stirrup, and been dragged across the state.
“A little tired. Do you have any kerosene? My horse’s hoof is festering. I need to tend it.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to check his hoof.”
“You shouldn’t have to be concerned with my horse at all.”
Or with me.
He’d shown her far more of himself than he wanted her to see. She was a stranger, but he had disconcerting memories of telling her things …
He followed her into the house and retrieved his knife from his saddlebag while she found the kerosene. By the time he returned outside, she was waiting beside Black Thunder, stroking the horse’s mane.
Stepping away from the stallion, she dropped her gaze to the knife Austin held. “Do you want me to hold his head?”
“It’s not necessary. He’s trained.” Giving the horse his backside, he brought the hoof up between his knees and dug the knife into the wound. He heard a whinny just before the sharp pain ricocheted through his butt. He dropped the hoof and jumped away from the horse. “Son of a—! Damn!”
He rubbed his backside while glaring at the horse that tossed its head like a woman might tilt her nose with indignation. Then he heard the laughter.
Light and airy, like a star drifting down from the heavens. He turned his attention to the woman. She had pressed her fingers against her lips, but he saw the corners of her mouth tilting up, carrying her smile to her eyes, shining like a golden coin. “You think it’s funny, Miss Grant?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, Mr. Leigh. It’s just not what I would have trained him to do.”
A bubble of laughter escaped from between her lips and it touched a chord of warmth deep within his chest. “Believe me, he picked that trick up while I was gone.”
She dropped her hand, and he watched as she fought to contain her smile. “You just don’t seem to have any luck.”
“Oh, I have luck, Miss Grant. Unfortunately, it’s all bad.”
Her smile withered. “I’m sorry.”
“You aren’t the cause of
He retrieved a rope halter that was hanging on the wall and slipped it onto Black Thunder before leading the stallion into the sunshine. At the corral, he bent and brought the horse’s foreleg up between his knees. He studied the festering wound and wondered if his back had looked this nasty when Miss Grant had tended it.
Releasing the foreleg, he knew he wouldn’t be traveling today. He looked toward the house. The dog had either captured the butterfly or given up because he was stretched out beneath the shade of a distant tree. A weakness settled in Austin’s legs. It galled him to have to admit Loree may have been right—he wasn’t quite recovered.
He ambled to the tree. Always watchful, the dog opened an eye and closed it. A flash of yellow caught Austin’s attention and he shifted his gaze. He leaned against the rough tree trunk. A strange sense of contentment stole over him as he watched Loree stand in the middle of a vegetable garden with a fawn nibbling something out of her cupped palm. Three other deer tore up the growing foliage. A family, he mused, and discontentment edged the peacefulness aside.
“I could string up some barbed wire for you,” he said.
The deer bounded into the thick grove of trees. Loree turned, her lightly golden brows drawn tightly together. “Why would I need barbed wire?”
“To protect your garden. Keep the pesky critters away.”
She looked toward the trees where the deer had disappeared. “They aren’t pesky, and I always grow more than I need.” She walked toward him, eyeing him suspiciously. “How are you feeling?”
Like he’d fallen from his horse, caught his foot in the stirrup, and been dragged across the state.
“A little tired. Do you have any kerosene? My horse’s hoof is festering. I need to tend it.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to check his hoof.”
“You shouldn’t have to be concerned with my horse at all.”
Or with me.
He’d shown her far more of himself than he wanted her to see. She was a stranger, but he had disconcerting memories of telling her things …
He followed her into the house and retrieved his knife from his saddlebag while she found the kerosene. By the time he returned outside, she was waiting beside Black Thunder, stroking the horse’s mane.
Stepping away from the stallion, she dropped her gaze to the knife Austin held. “Do you want me to hold his head?”
“It’s not necessary. He’s trained.” Giving the horse his backside, he brought the hoof up between his knees and dug the knife into the wound. He heard a whinny just before the sharp pain ricocheted through his butt. He dropped the hoof and jumped away from the horse. “Son of a—! Damn!”
He rubbed his backside while glaring at the horse that tossed its head like a woman might tilt her nose with indignation. Then he heard the laughter.
Light and airy, like a star drifting down from the heavens. He turned his attention to the woman. She had pressed her fingers against her lips, but he saw the corners of her mouth tilting up, carrying her smile to her eyes, shining like a golden coin. “You think it’s funny, Miss Grant?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, Mr. Leigh. It’s just not what I would have trained him to do.”
A bubble of laughter escaped from between her lips and it touched a chord of warmth deep within his chest. “Believe me, he picked that trick up while I was gone.”
She dropped her hand, and he watched as she fought to contain her smile. “You just don’t seem to have any luck.”
“Oh, I have luck, Miss Grant. Unfortunately, it’s all bad.”
Her smile withered. “I’m sorry.”
“You aren’t the cause of
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