His Rodeo Sweetheart. Pamela Britton
be coming home soon. He’ll need the apartment then.”
“But he won’t be home for three more months. You said so yourself.” The boy’s lower lip jutted out, green eyes imploring. “They have that super big place and it’s empty.”
“Yes, but they won’t want a stranger staying there.”
“Major McCall isn’t a stranger.”
“Adam—”
“It’s okay.” Ethan smiled down at her son. “I can find a place in town.”
But the little boy’s eyes showed grim determination. “I’ll go call Uncle Colt right now.”
The boy turned toward the house, calling over his shoulder, “He won’t mind.”
“Adam!”
She’d been ignored. He saw her mouth open and close a few times. Claire clearly wanted to call to her son again, maybe even run after him. Instead she stood there, something close to embarrassment floating through her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” It was hard not to smile in the face of determination like Adam’s, but he had a feeling if he showed her his amusement, Claire would feel even worse. “I think he’s trying to help.”
“You’re probably right. Ever since he’s been sick he’s been worried about me. He says I do too much. That I’m always busy and it’s not good for me. He’s such a little man but he has grown-up concerns.”
Her words had the ability to make him forget his own troubles for a moment. He’d almost broken down earlier. But he’d stopped it—thankfully. And here was her son, fighting for his life. It served as an example that there were worse things in life than dealing with a little anxiety.
A little?
Okay. Some days he would swear he was about to have a heart attack, and as he stared into Claire’s kind eyes, he wondered what she would do if she knew the truth—that the man who was at her place to “help” needed help of his own.
A screen door slammed.
“That was quick,” she said.
Adam didn’t run, but his steps could almost be called a skip. Ethan knew what his uncle’s answer had been before Adam even spoke.
“He said to bring him over.” His smile could have lit up the inside of a room.
“Adam—”
“He said he thinks it’d be cool to have a dog doctor living on the property.”
Claire’s mouth opened and closed again. He could tell she wanted to say something, to dash the boy’s hopes with words, but she wasn’t proof against the excitement in her son’s eyes.
“I take it he lives at Misfit Farms?” Ethan asked, having passed a sign along her driveway that pointed to a different road, one labeled with that name.
She nodded.
“I don’t mind going over there.” He tried to tell her without words that he wasn’t about to take advantage of her brother’s kindness. He knew she didn’t want him to and he would respect that wish. “You can show me around the place.”
She must have received the message because some of the concern faded from her eyes. She still searched for something to say, though, something that she could use to finagle her way around her son’s high-handedness.
Something wet touched his hand.
He looked down. Thor peered up at him, curiosity in his brown eyes. Ethan glanced at Claire. Her eyes had gone wide.
“He likes you.”
No. He probably reminded Thor of his handler, the man who’d been killed in action...like Trevor.
“See.” Adam’s eyes were as wide as his mom’s. He pointed. “Thor wants you to stay, too.”
Claire stared up at him, then down at the dog, then back at him again.
She looked troubled, and resigned. “Maybe you should go meet my brother.”
Thor’s nose nudged his palm again.
Maybe he should.
* * *
THEY DROVE TO her brother’s place in less than two minutes. Claire tried to ignore the presence of the man in the seat next to her, but it was nearly impossible.
Thor liked him.
For the first time since the dog had arrived she’d seen life in the canine’s eyes. What did it mean? Would Ethan be able to get through to the dog, something nobody else had been able to do? She could tell Ethan didn’t plan to accept the invitation to stay with her brother, and she appreciated his tactfulness, yet suddenly she wondered...
His hands had shaken.
There had been that look in his eyes, too, the one she’d recognized. She seen the same look in her husband’s eyes when he’d come home from the war, and then later, as he’d been admitted to the hospital. The same look in her son’s eyes.
Fear.
He fought demons, this man who had suffered through war. It made her want to help him. Marcus had called it her greatest gift—her desire to help. Claire thought of it more as a weakness because she often stretched herself too thin thanks to her inability to say no. It was why she’d gotten into the dog rescue business. Why she’d insisted on nursing her husband herself even though the military had offered hospice care. Why she’d stayed by her father’s side, too, even though she had owed the man nothing.
Her tires hummed as she drove over the newly paved road. She couldn’t get used to the smoothness, but Natalie, her brother’s new wife, had insisted her clients would expect pavement. Still, as she turned left toward Colt’s place, she wondered what the cows that still ranged the pastures thought about the strange black strip.
“Wait until you see my uncle’s place.” Adam leaned forward, as if they would have a hard time hearing him when his voice was just one level above a yell over the sound of the truck’s diesel engine. “It’s awesome.”
Awesome was one word. Expensive another. Amazing was applicable, too. Her sister-in-law had won a huge jumping event last year, one with an equally huge purse. Natalie must have spent nearly all of it building her new riding facility.
“Wow,” Ethan said when they drove between two low-lying hills, and her brother’s place came into view.
Wow was right. The big red barn still stood in the same spot as it had in their youth, as did the house directly ahead, but the two-story farmhouse had been given a new coat of white paint. The original barn—the one she and her brothers had hidden from their father in when they were younger—had been converted back to a hayloft. Directly opposite it now, to their left, sat a gorgeous twenty-stall barn that seemed to match the old-fashioned farmhouse somehow. It was two stories, four windows with wooden frames directly above the opening—the apartment her brother Chance would live in one day soon.
That wasn’t the only big change.
A covered arena sat behind the barn. A white fence surrounded the whole complex. They had to pass between the pristine posts, her truck’s wheels catching the newly installed cattle guard and vibrating the interior.
“That always makes my insides jiggle,” Adam said with a giggle.
Hers, too, she admitted, marveling at how green it all was now. Sprinklers. They sprayed every surface that wasn’t covered by asphalt, including the square turnout pastures by her brother’s old arena to her right. The “outdoor arena” they called it now. There were a few jumps in the middle of it, but the bulk of her sister-in-law’s practice fences were in the covered arena. That was because her brother still managed Rodeo Misfits, his specialty act that involved trick riding. They needed the arena for practice.