To hide a blush, she rinsed the hankie in the bucket. She had no business thinking of his clean-shaven jaw. Not only did she need someone to ride in the May Day Maze, she needed someone to muck out stalls, fix fences, mend tools, check the few remaining cattle and paint the house before it turned to splinters. She finished cleaning the cuts, decided they didn’t need stitches, then said, “I hope you plan to work hard, because you just fired my only two hands.”
He shrugged. “They needed firing.”
“I still need help.”
“I can see that.” With a twinkle in his eye, he indicated his wet shirt. “Now that I’ve had a bath, I guess I’m hired.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You needed it.”
She used to enjoy sparring with Ty, and she supposed she still did. They had that way about them, where it sounded like they were bickering but they weren’t. It had been a game between them, but now they had business to conduct. “About wages…I’ll pay you what I paid Obie.”
“Forget it.”
Josie had her pride. “You can’t work for free. It’s just not right.”
“You’re paying me room and board.”
“But—”
“Please don’t argue.”
She barely heard him, a sign he remembered their sparring as sweetly as she did. If she quarreled with him now, they’d end up recalling other spats, the ones that ended in laughter and kisses. “All right,” she agreed. “Room and board it is.”
“Thank you, boss.”
The name annoyed her. Frowning, she emptied the bucket and set it down. Ty stood and pulled his hat low. It hid his eyes, but not the hard line of his jaw. Josie knew that look. He had something to say, but he wouldn’t say it. She felt the same way. Talk would lead to remembering, and remembering would lead to trouble. She had to get away from Ty. “Smoke’s in the north pasture. Go and say hello.”
“I will,” he answered. “But first I’ll tend to my horse and your mule.”
“I’ll do it.”
“No you won’t, boss. It’s my job now.”
“Don’t argue with me.” She couldn’t stand another minute of his sassy attitude. If he was going to call her boss, she’d act like one. “Go see Smoke. That’s an order.”
* * *
Ty couldn’t stand another minute in Josie’s presence. He could still feel her hankie against his skin, her fingertips dabbing at the cuts. The tenderness in her touch didn’t erase the fact he’d taken a beating, but it made the bruises worthwhile. It would take time to win her trust, but defending her honor against Obie’s insults had been a start.
Before he left, he had to square a few details. “I’ll sleep in the bunkhouse. What about meals?”
“I’ll bring your supper and the noon meal here. You can save some bacon and biscuits for breakfast.”
So he wouldn’t be sitting at the table with Josie and her mother the way he used to with Nate. “Anything else?”
She indicated the dilapidated barn. “You can see what needs to be done.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He could have been saying Yes, sir to a prison guard. It would take time to get used to being free.
Josie gave him a peculiar look, then went to put up the animals. Ty headed for the pasture. The path took him past the spot where Gordie had upchucked. He kicked dirt on the mess to save Josie the sight of it, then he rounded the corner of the barn. Flexing his knuckles, he felt the sting of broken flesh. Obie had earned his punishment, but Ty regretted making an enemy. He regretted a lot of things. Some of those regrets were best forgotten, but others could be fixed. He couldn’t make up for ruining Josie’s wedding day, but he could win the race for her.
As he neared the pasture, he searched the perimeter for Smoke. He hoped the horse remembered him. It had taken weeks to earn the stallion’s respect, and he didn’t have time to start over. The Maze was less than a month away.
At the fence he propped a boot on the bottom rail and crossed his arms over the top one. In the far corner he spotted Smoke. The stallion’s coat had darkened, but he still had a silvery sheen that stood out against the sky and grass. If the mustang had the same fire inside, he could outrun any horse in Wyoming. Ty put two fingers in his mouth and whistled the signal he’d taught Smoke when he’d caught him as a yearling. The stallion raised his head, looked in his direction and froze. The first blast had wobbled a bit. Ty tried again. This time the notes were high and sharp.
Smoke broke into a run. Ty hopped the fence. The next thing he knew the horse was nosing his chest in search of carrots. With his heart brimming, Ty wrapped his arms around Smoke’s neck and gave thanks. He’d felt his kind of joy just once before. The day he walked out of prison, he’d felt both free and burdened by his bad choices. He’d wanted to be baptized, so he and Reverend Gaines walked fully clothed into the Cayenne River. The reverend said a prayer, then he bent Ty back and held him tight so he wouldn’t fall. Water rushed up his nose and he’d come up sputtering and full of joy.
He felt that joy now…a good measure, pressed down like grapes giving their juice. It tasted sweeter than honey. In this precious moment, he prayed for Josie, that he could be her friend and save her home. He prayed she’d forgive him. Another prayer formed in his mind, but he didn’t dare give voice to it. He had no right to think about loving her again, and if the truth be told, she’d hurt him, too. Not a single letter… Not even an angry one.
Smoke nosed him again. The force pushed Ty into the railing, and he thought of prison bars. Who said horses didn’t understand jail? Smoke wanted to be free…so did Ty. He wanted to go far and fast until he lost himself in a cloud of dust. He didn’t need a saddle to ride Smoke, so he swung onto the horse’s back. They circled the pasture once and came back to the gate. Ty reached down, unlatched it and Smoke broke into a gallop.
Breathing in perfect rhythm with his horse, Ty felt strong and free. With God’s help, he’d win the race for Josie. He’d give her back the life she’d lost. Maybe then he could make a new life for himself.
Chapter Three
Josie walked into the house, closed the door and leaned against it. She needed to clear her head before she spoke to her mother, but the older woman was coming down the hall in measured steps. Winnie Bright had no trouble navigating her home of twenty-five years. She’d lost the ability to read and see distant mountains, but she could detect patterns of light. She described her vision as looking through fogged glass. She couldn’t identify faces, but she had sharp hearing and remarkable intuition.
“Josie, is that you?”
“It’s me, Mama.”
The older woman emerged from the hall into the front room. Red gingham curtains were tied back, giving the sun full access to the parlor. The rays caught the silver in her mother’s braided coronet, a sharp contrast to the auburn that matched Josie’s own hair. The women would have been the same height, but Mama had shrunk with age and had stooped shoulders. Her posture worried Josie, mostly because she knew her mother’s back hurt all the time.
The older woman walked to her rocking chair and sat. “What happened with Mr. Proffitt?”
“He said no, but it might not matter.”
“Why not?”
“I have a new plan.” Josie sat on the divan. This was her place, where she sewed and fretted. “I found someone to ride in the May Day Maze… Someone who can ride Smoke.”
Mama tilted her head. “That horse belonged to Ty Donner.”
“That’s right.”