Cowgirl, Say Yes. Brenda Mott
I’ve been talking to him about it.”
“I see. Macy, why doesn’t he want to let Amber retire at your ranch?”
Macy started to answer, then turned, instead, to see who was approaching on horseback.
Tess looked, too, and her stomach knotted as Wade Darland himself rode up the driveway on a pretty, blue roan quarter horse. Macy’s comment left her with the feeling she was in for a confrontation. As though agreeing, her dogs trotted along the driveway, barking a warning.
“Uh-oh,” Macy said, grimacing. “I think I forgot to finish my chores. And my homework.” She moved toward her horse as her dad halted in front of her and Tess.
“Hi.” He tipped his well-worn cowboy hat, and Tess was treated to a glimpse of hair the color of rich brown soil. Then the horse shifted, putting her gaze directly in line with the sun.
Tess shielded her eyes and looked up at Wade. “Hi,” she said. “Macy just remembered her homework.”
“That, and you’ve got chores to do, young lady.” He frowned, but he didn’t appear genuinely angry. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all.
His next words shot her last thought to the ground.
“Macy, what are you doing here? You know better than to take off without telling me or leaving a note.”
It wasn’t the note business that nettled Tess. It was the “what are you doing here” part, with emphasis on the here.
“I am Macy’s new 4-H leader,” Tess said.
“I’m aware of that,” he replied. “But that doesn’t excuse my daughter taking off without leaving word.” He turned once more to Macy and repeated his question.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Macy said, not looking so at all. “I just wanted to go for a ride and see Bailey’s twins again.”
“And?”
Wade seemed to know his daughter better than she thought.
Macy shifted from one foot to the other, clutching Amber’s reins.
“And talk to Tess about Amber,” she muttered, staring down at her feet as she scuffed the toe of her boot against the gravel driveway.
“What?”
“And talk to Tess—” Macy began, speaking more clearly.
“I heard you.” Wade frowned. “Macy, we’ve already been over this.” He glanced Tess’s way. “Now’s not the time. We’ll talk some more when we get home.”
“But, Dad…”
“Macy.” Wade gave her a firm look. “You heard me. Come on. Get on your horse and let’s go.”
He focused on Tess, turning the blue roan so that the sun was no longer in Tess’s eyes.
“Sorry if Macy’s been pestering you,” he said. “We’ll be going.”
“Hold up a minute.” She laid her hand on the roan’s muzzle, stilling Wade’s pull on the reins. “Macy isn’t pestering me. She came over here to talk to me about giving Amber a permanent home.”
The sun-bronzed color in his face deepened, along with the scowl creasing his forehead. He was a good-looking man, she’d give him that, but right now his expression did nothing to add appeal to his charmless demeanor.
“She shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “I told her not to.”
“Why?” Folding her arms, Tess challenged him with the single word.
“What do you mean, why?” He scowled some more. “There’s no reason for asking, that’s why. We’ve got a ranch of our own, and when the horses can no longer serve a purpose, they’ll go to the sale barn.”
Now it was Tess’s turn to scowl. “The sale barn? Wade, you know what happens to horses that go there. At least the ones past their prime.”
He shot her a glare that said she’d overstepped her boundaries, but she didn’t care. Idiots like him made her rescue work necessary.
“I’m not going to argue with you on this, Tess. It’s none of your concern.”
“Is that right?” She frowned at him. “I’d say it is my concern when your daughter comes to me practically in tears because you aim to ship her horse off to the kil—to the auction.”
“I said I wasn’t going to argue with you.” He spoke the words evenly, but his hazel eyes showed irritation at her. “Come on, Macy, we’re burning daylight.”
“Burning daylight?” Tess scoffed. “You’ve been watching too many John Wayne movies, Wade. Maybe you ought to spend less time with your remote control and more time finding out what’s truly important to your daughter.” As soon as the words were out, she knew she’d overstepped. She really didn’t know Wade well enough to speak to him that way, but when people acted as though animals were disposable—useful today, dumped tomorrow—it made her furious.
He clenched his jaw. “What did I say?” he reiterated. “The horse is none of your concern, either. Macy, come on!” Without waiting, he thumped his heels against the roan’s sides, making the gelding jump into a trot.
Tess scowled after him, her heart breaking when she saw the expression on Macy’s face as she followed her father down the driveway. From the back of her palomino, the little girl gave a sad little wave, then faced forward.
Tess wanted to run after the man and yank him from the saddle. Maybe knock some sense into his head or, better yet, start on the other end with a cowboy boot to his butt.
She watched her dogs, who circled her feet, sensing something had upset her. Duke, her German shepherd, growled, and Bruiser, her miniature pinscher, trotted briskly down the driveway, looking right then left. His high-pitched bark warned he just might mean business if something was amiss. Only Sasha, the Australian shepherd, wagged her stubby tail, her red-speckled body wriggling along with it.
“You’re too late, Duke,” Tess addressed the German shepherd. “You should’ve bitten him while you had the chance.”
“MACY, why did you do that?” Exasperated, Wade sat at the table, looking at his daughter. Her eyes filled with tears, making him feel every inch the creep Tess Vega obviously thought he was. “Why did you lie to Tess and tell her I said she could have Amber?”
“Because,” Macy said, swiping angrily at her tears. “I don’t want Amber to go to the sale barn.”
“But, honey.” Wade softened his tone, reaching out to put his hand on Macy’s shoulder. He gave her a gentle squeeze. “If you don’t sell her, then you won’t have any money to put toward a new horse. Amber’s getting too old to do barrels and poles. You know that, don’t you?” The barrel-racing and pole-bending events Macy competed in required a lot of running, coupled with sharp turns around three fifty-five-gallon drums set in a cloverleaf pattern, or six poles placed in a row. To compete on a regular basis took a lot of physical effort for a horse.
Macy sobbed, no longer able to hold back. “I know. But I love her!” She said the word as though it was foreign to him, making him feel ten times worse. He’d never meant to make his daughter so upset.
“Baby, don’t cry. I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just trying to be practical. You know, Grandpa Darland was always the same way when I was growing up. Horses get old, Macy. It can’t be helped. Just like we all do. And when they’re too old to use, then you’ve got to be sensible and ship ’em to auction. Replace them with new ones. You’ll find another horse to love.”
“You don’t ship people off to auction just ’cause they’re old,” Macy snapped, some of her spunk returning. She sniffed loudly. “If so, Grandpa Darland would’ve been hauled off long ago.”
Wade