Heat Wave (Riders Up) (11 page)

Though he doubted
she’d ever foaled horses before. He couldn’t just up and leave her, or leave
those mares to her mercy. Ed Harrington honored his promises. He might not have
much left, but he still had his pride.

Stroking the cat
behind its ears, Ed mumbled, “Your damn mistress has enough pride for all of
us, Tom. That’s a large part of the problem. She can’t accept no for an answer
once she gets her claws into an idea—or into a man.

Maybe he’d get
lucky and it wouldn’t take so long to make the stables competitive. After all,
Cassie was running some horses in Chicago, and she was damn good. If they could
set up the foundation of a contending racing stable, then he might be able to
reestablish himself in the racing world. Maybe Maggie might even let him buy in
on a horse or two after she got to know him better. Like it or not, this was
the best game in town for him; it was the only game.

He shook his head—that
wasn’t all of it. He didn’t
want
to leave. He didn’t want to leave
behind that lavender scent or walk away from the mulberry taste.

The calico tomcat
stretched to his fullest extent before leaping from the hay bale. Ed chuckled. “You
wouldn’t have a second thought about what to do, would you, Mr. Tom?” The cat
walked on without ever looking back. “Maybe that’s what separates us. She
deserves more than just having an itch scratched. And I have nothing more to
offer than that. Nothing but pain and heartache. Surely, that woman’s had
enough of that to last a lifetime.”

- o -

Forty-five more
days passed without a drop of moisture, not even early morning dew. The ground
cracked like so many broken mirrors. Corn leaves had long since curled. Alfalfa
grew to about four inches and then turned brown. Even if a drenching rain
occurred now, farmers would be lucky if the land would yield forty percent of a
normal crop. Not enough to cover expenses. Not enough to purchase seed for the
following year.

Maggie knelt at the
edge of the corn field west of the barn. Parched dirt sifted through her
fingers like desert sand. Anxiety furrowed her brow. “Damn this heat wave,” she
muttered. It couldn’t have picked a worse year to happen. Her financial
reserves were rapidly shriveling up like the corn, which should have been
towering over her head this late in July.

If things got much
worse, she might have to consider cutting back her investments in horses in
order to make it through to another spring and another season. At least she had
that option. Other small farmers would only make it if they could find work in
town. When the weather failed to cooperate, there weren’t many jobs available
in communities whose economies depended upon the cash crops the land produced.

At least she had
the horses to fall back on. They weren’t making a lot of money by any stretch
of the imagination. The Chicago based contingent was showing a modest profit;
she expected that was largely because the Travers were not taking out training
fees. Still, Cassie was very high on the three-year-old, Capote’s Dream. He’d
already won a mid-level allowance race. Cassie had nominated him to run in a
modest stakes race at Prairie Meadows over Labor Day weekend.

A lot could happen
by that time. If there was any major calamity, she might need to borrow money. Never
from Prater. Maybe her parent’s insurance money would arrive in time—if Ben could
ever find Brad. And if her brother didn’t behave like a greedy snake. Hell, it
might even rain.

Maggie stood and
squeezed herself tightly. The scorched landscape seemed lush compared to the
blistering wasteland her body was becoming. He hadn’t touched her for too long.
Had it all been her imagination? They’d been polite enough; too polite. The
kids made most of the conversation at mealtime. Ed disappeared most evenings. She
imagined he’d found more meetings to attend. Once he’d spoken briefly about working
the twelve steps. He was anxious about completing some of them. He had a
sponsor; she was thankful for that.

The last thing she
wanted was for Ed to start drinking again. That would be the end of everything,
for him and for her.

Maybe he was seeing
another woman. Maybe the meetings were just a ruse. Maggie shivered in the
heat. Her loins tightened. Removing her cap, she ran dusty fingers through her
hair. No, he couldn’t be involved with another woman. He couldn’t.

Shaking her head,
Maggie hoped and prayed for rain. This heat wave couldn’t go on forever. Much
longer and it would drive her batty.

As Maggie left the
field and approached the paddock area, she heard voices coming from the round
pen. Heading in that direction, she heard Ed giving instructions to Johnny and
Carolyn.

Leaning against the
fence rails, Maggie smiled. Ed was showing her kids how work a yearling filly
on a longe line. Things had improved greatly between Ed and Carolyn. He no
longer seemed so shy around her, and she wasn’t trying to be sexual in the
least. Thank God for small favors. Johnny worshipped the man. Ed Harrington
could do no wrong in the boy’s eyes. “He understands horses like that
horse
whispering
guy,” he’d boasted just the other day. Johnny was up early each
morning to help with the horses. He certainly spent more time listening to Ed
than to his Walkman.

Just as his
connection with the kids was improving, the relationship between him and her
was stagnating. And that was being kind. Not that they were ripping each other
apart—it just wasn’t going anywhere. At least it wasn’t going where she wanted
it to go.

She’d always hated
running in place in gym class. This by far was worse. Ed Harrington might be
like that horse whispering guy, but he sure had a lot to learn about romancing
a woman before he could challenge Robert Redford.

Finished with the
morning lessons, Ed led the filly over to where Maggie was standing. Her
children followed.

“You’ve got a
couple bright kids, Maggie. Hope you know that,” he drawled.

Maggie wished she
had a camera to capture that moment of beaming smiles. Ed was not big on
praise, so when it came, it merited a celebration.

“Hey, Mom,” Johnny piped.

“Hey, yourself.” Maggie
pulled her son’s cap over his eyes.

“When are we going
to the fair? There are only two more days left.”

“Wondered if you
were going to forget this year!”

“When, Mom?” Johnny
pleaded.

“Tomorrow is
Saturday. Why don’t we go in time for lunch? Then we can see some of the
animals. And the rides won’t really start until later anyway.”

“All right!”

“Mom, can I invite
Amy Ramsey?” Carolyn asked.

“Sure, why not?”

Johnny dragged his
boot, making a deep line in the soft corral dirt. Looking up at Ed, he said, “You’re
going to come with us, aren’t you?”

“Now, boy,” Ed began,
“I’ve got things to do. I’m not much of a fair person.”

“But I want you to
come and watch the 4-H kids show their horses. You said you might have time
this winter to teach me how to ride the correct way.”

Ed frowned at the
boy.

Slumped shoulders,
turned down mouth, doleful eyes—Maggie could see Johnny’s entire body arguing his
case. What would Ed do? Maggie watched the internal chaos churning inside him.
He really didn’t want to go, that was perfectly evident. The fair would probably
place him too close to her. But he clearly didn’t want to let Johnny down. In
the end, tough Mr. Harrington was a cream puff. There must be much she could
learn from how her children handled him. And wasn’t it nice to know that he
intended to stay through the winter?

Shoving his hands
in his pockets, Ed grumbled, “Oh, all right. We’ll go see some horses. It’s not
like we don’t see horses everyday.”

Maggie saw him
glance at her. She tried not to look too triumphant.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Johnny, Ed and
Maggie munched on hot dogs and potato chips while watching the equitation
classes. For a change, Maggie welcomed the late July sunshine warming her skin.
Today she would forget about the drought. Instead, she relaxed, sitting on
backless wooden benches looking watching 4-H kids chasing their dreams. Johnny
would most likely be out there in the arena next year. That would be much more
nerve-racking; she’d enjoy this mellow day while she could.

Ed remained quiet,
no doubt wishing he was somewhere else, but he did comment to Johnny now and
then about a particular horse or rider. Maggie appraised her men and knew that
this was as close to being a family as they had experienced since Ed came on
board. The only one missing was Carolyn, who was off somewhere with her friend.
Fourteen-year-olds didn’t do the fair with their parents, Maggie had been
informed.

“I only want to
ride western,” Johnny said to Ed. “No eastern riding for me.”

“Can’t blame you on
that. ‘Course, jockeys can do both.” Ed cleaned his fingernails with a
penknife.

Johnny wrinkled his
nose. “Well, maybe I should learn just in case.”

“Um, we’ll see,”
Maggie interjected. One thing she didn’t want to happen with all this racing
business was for her son to become a jockey. She couldn’t think of a much more
dangerous sport than sitting on top of a twelve hundred pound beast running as
fast and often as wildly as it possibly could. Maybe Johnny would grow to six
foot tall and two hundred pounds—considering her frame, that seemed unlikely.

“Look Mom, here
come Dave and Mike. Can I go with them for a while? I think Ed and I have seen
all we need to see here.”

Ed’s jaw jutted out
and he turned white and then red. Was that fear in his eyes? She gave him a coy
smile. Ed looked at the boy as if about to speak, then shrugged his shoulders
and directed his attention back to the show ring.

“Sure, son,” Maggie
said. “Run along. Remember, we’re meeting Carolyn at the Ferris Wheel at six o’clock.”

After watching her son
dash off with his friends, Maggie said to the still-stunned man sitting beside
her, “Kids can be fickle without even trying. Don’t take it personally. He has
really enjoyed being with you.”

She stretched,
thinking a nap would provide a nice interlude. No, he probably wouldn’t like
that suggestion. Well, he wasn’t getting away from her this time. Even if it
was hot enough to fry an egg, they would see the fair—together.

Maggie pulled the
pink tank top she was wearing away from her skin in an attempt to garner some
cool relief. Maybe they should find a shade tree and make out. She chuckled at
her teenage memories and then directed her attention to the man who was doing
his best to avoid her.

“Guess we have
nearly four hours to kill until the Ferris Wheel rendezvous,” she said. “What
do you want to do?”

- o -

Ed drew a blank. Maybe
crawl under a rock? Or better yet, take a four hour nap.
No, don’t go there.
Not with Maggie Anderson beside him. Four hours with her hounding him was not
going to be much fun, but there was little choice. They’d come together; they’d
leave together. She’d stick to him like a burr to a dog. He’d probably be lucky
if he could go to the bathroom alone. Ed inhaled deeply. Damn kid. Maybe he’d
get sick on the rides and they’d have to go home early.

Unlikely. Cool
would be the best way to play this situation. He wasn’t going to show Maggie
Anderson that he was unnerved about spending an afternoon with her. It wasn’t
like there weren’t a lot of other people around. “The showing here is almost
done,” he said. “Guess we could walk through the other animal barns. Maybe
something is going on at the grandstand.”

Two hours later, Ed
had to admit that being with Maggie for the afternoon was turning out to be
quite a bit of fun. He hadn’t been to a county fair since he was a kid. Their
conversation was less strained than at the farm. They laughed at the odd
looking caged birds with unpronounceable names. They oohed at lambs suckling
their mother’s teats. They watched enviously as a sow received a cold water
bath. Maggie seemed so happy and carefree. You wouldn’t know the problems she
carried on her shoulders. He guessed a small break from worry was what they
both needed.

She often glanced
at him with an impish
come play with me
look. Damn, he wanted to kiss
those lips; they seemed fuller than usual. He only remembered them being so
full after he’d bruised them badly with his own.

“Ah, a day at the
fair,” Maggie said, turning to face him. “Isn’t it fun?

“It’s okay.”

“Come on, Ed. Loosen
up. You’ll get a day older each day no matter how you live it. We still have
more than an hour before we meet the kids. Let’s go ride the Octopus.”

Ed scowled at those
wide blue eyes. Surely, he must have misheard. No, he’d heard right. “You got
to be kidding. At our ages?”

“Well, you old
fuddy duddy. There are people on the rides who are a lot older than us.” Rising
on her toes, she barked, “I dare you. I say the Octopus. You can pick the next
ride.”

“Okay, lady, you’re
on.” Grabbing her hand, he almost dragged her down the midway. She scrambled to
keep up.

Awkwardly, Ed sat
alone on the left side of the Octopus cart. Maggie grinned, as if telling him he
couldn’t prevent her from sliding tight against him once the machine started.

The Octopus arm
lifted and then dipped. He squinted. Sure enough, here she came like a
cannonball, screaming her lungs out. Ed swung his arm down to protect her. After
making sure she was safely tucked in, he looked away. She looked far too
satisfied with their situation.

Well, she’d angered
him with her smug dare—he shouldn’t have reacted so instinctively. But she did
feel good snuggled up against him. One thing he had to say about her, she had
guts. She must know that the whole damn county would be talking about them
after this day. Those country phone lines would be at risk of burning up from
overuse. He smiled.
Wait till she sees the next ride.

As they stepped off
the Octopus, Maggie pleaded, “Let’s take a short break. It’s been awhile since
I’ve done this. Got to get my legs back.”

“Okay. How about
some cotton candy?”

“Damn, you are
getting into this.”

“Haven’t been to a
county fair in decades, but used to go a lot when I was a kid. Always liked it
when a girl dared me to take her on a ride.”

They ate their
cotton candy while strolling across the midway. Bright pinks, oranges, reds,
purples, and yellows splashed across the carnival booths, in front of which
hawkers shouted at Ed trying to cajole him into winning a stuffed bear for
his
girl
. Over their shouts blared music and recordings enticing folks to
sideshows and monumental rides. The scents of hamburgers, hot dogs, corn on the
cob and elephant ears wafted on the air. There was no escape from the assault
on the senses.

Ed watched Maggie
light up as she immersed herself in the whirl of the midway. They walked for
nearly a half an hour laughing at the clowns, at the barkers, at people leaning
every which way in their attempts to land quarters on slanted glassware.

Ed pulled Maggie to
a halt none to gently and reached down to pluck a piece of cotton candy from
her hair. Her upturned smile sent warmth radiating throughout his body. His
pulse raced. The familiarity of such a simple act thrilled him like no carnival
ride ever could. Yet touching her terrorized him, if he allowed himself to
think. He tried desperately not to think.

“I’m ready for
more. It’s your choice,” Maggie said, running her fingers lightly across his
forearm.

“Come on, then. It’s
a ride from my youth. They used to call it airplane, only it doesn’t look like
one. Looks more like baskets.”

“Oh God, I
remember.” She took a step back. “I was never very good being upside down.” Bravely,
she squared her shoulders and handed her ticket to the attendant.

Ed stood aside letting
Maggie climb in and sit down on the narrow, hard bench. “Damn, I remember these
baskets being bigger than this,” he muttered, trying to find enough room on the
bench for himself.

“Seems comfy to me,”
she said, with her head somewhere between his chest and shoulder.

The tall machine
purred, their basket rose like a chair on a Ferris Wheel. He knew that would
change quickly. With one strong arm holding Maggie securely, Ed began to rock
the basket.

“No…” she breathed.

The heat of her wet
lips seared his bare arm. He spun the basket. Over and over they went.

“Oh, my God,”
Maggie cried out. She bit his arm. “I give up,” she screamed. “You win. Whatever
you want. Just stop the spinning.”

The ride ended. Bemused,
Ed watched Maggie stagger toward a nearby tree. Without even the slightest
touch of class she tossed her hotdog, fries, cotton candy, and soda.

Ed didn’t know if
he should laugh or cry. This was not what he’d intended.

“Sonofabitch, Ed,
don’t just stand there looking like you swallowed a frog! Give me your
handkerchief.” Moaning, Maggie leaned hard against the tree trunk. “Damn, I may
yet live. Wow! What a ride. You must have been something in your youth.” He
turned away as her stomach lurched again. “I may be older than I thought,” she gasped.

“I’ll get you some
water. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry about
that,” she retorted.

“How are you?” Ed
asked, handing Maggie a tall paper cup filled with ice and water.

“Better. I’ll make
it.” She sipped the water and rinsed out her mouth. “This helps. Thanks. Let’s
move over there,” she said, pointing to a tree some thirty feet away.

“I’m sorry, Maggie.”
Ed put his arm around her waist to help her to the tree.

Relieved, Maggie promptly
sat down and leaned back against it.

He removed his cap
and sat down beside her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to scare you
for getting me into such a pickle like this.”

“I know. I should’ve
been more forceful about my sensitivity to hanging upside down.” She met his
gaze. “This is a small price to pay to see you finally loosen up some. Damn,
that was good. If I hadn’t just thrown up lunch, I’d kiss you.”

Sliding away from
her, Ed said flatly, “Thanks for small favors.”

“Is that you,
Maggie Anderson? You’re looking a little peaked,” Sandy Singer asked. She was a
longtime schoolmate and friend who, with her husband, managed the local motel.

“It’s me,” Maggie
groaned. She smiled weakly. “Seems like my stomach isn’t much better than it
was when we were kids.”

Sandy laughed. “You
always did have a weak stomach when it came to rides.” She winked at Maggie
before glancing at Ed. “Looks like you’re in good hands, though. Are you going
to introduce me to your handsome friend? Is this the hired hand I’ve been
hearing so much about?”

Maggie frowned. Ed scowled.
“This is Ed Harrington, Sandy. Ed, this is an old friend, Sandy Singer. She’s
good people, even if she is nosey.”

“Pleased to meet
you, ma’am,” Ed said, rising to his feet.

“Likewise. I’d
really like to stay and talk, but I have to get over to the garden show. I’m
one of the judges and can’t be late. Good seeing you both.” Sandy smiled
broadly and waved a bejeweled hand at them as she turned to leave.

“Knew it wasn’t a
good idea to come,” Ed said.

“No need to pout. We’ve
had some fun. Sandy isn’t going to say anything to hurt us. She’s a friend. She’ll
talk, but I’ll have to be careful to keep the other women off you now that they’ll
know you’re here.”

“I’m not pouting. I
just don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression, that’s all.”

“Come on, Mr. Hot
Shot Trainer,” Maggie teased, “I’m not worried about impressions. Come sit back
down beside me under this old oak tree and regale me with stories of winners
and losers while I try to get these tennis shoes cleaned up some. I’m done with
carnival rides, until maybe next year.”

Ugly dark clouds
raced across the western sky. Maggie stepped off the porch to get a better
look. She hadn’t seen a cloud in weeks.
Please be filled with rain
, she
begged. Swirling dust devils sprouted everywhere ahead of the gusty winds.

Running headlong
toward the paddocks to check on the horses, Maggie heard screams even before
she rounded the corner of the barn. Panic clawed her heart.

Turning the corner,
she witnessed, to her horror, her son being buffeted about like a bag of fluff
by an hysterical mare. Somehow Johnny hung suspended from the horse’s halter. As
the animal repeatedly reared, the boy’s body was flung up and down. Maggie ran,
but felt as if her legs were stuck in concrete. No noise issued from her
clogged throat. The terrifying scene of horse and boy moved in slow motion.