what I came for,” he said. “You sign up for the horse, you got yourself a trainer.”
She glanced at Sally, who beamed back at her. Beaming you up, old chum. They’d spent precious little time together since Mary had enlisted, but the years fell away instantly because Sally was…Sally.
No more sidestepping. No looking down. There was only the man at her side and the chance at hand. She looked him in the eye. “What’s this gonna cost me?”
“A fair share of the prize.”
“How much of a share?”
“Depends on what you contribute time- and effort-wise. You gonna pony up, Sergeant?”
With the help of some army training, Mary had learned to welcome a good challenge, especially when it came from a worthy challenger. “Half,” she said. “Half is fair, and we split the expenses down the middle, win or lose.”
“We can’t lose. This is one of those win-win deals like you read about. Who’s gonna write the story?”
“Which…?” Sally was so deep into their game she was practically falling out of her chair. The look of a sidelines fan suddenly hit with the ball earned her a laugh. Sally being Sally, she took it in stride. “Oh, we’re gonna have all kinds of stories. That’s the whole point. We need to get the word out about these horses.” She glanced toward the door and smiled. “I think I’ll put Annie in charge of that little detail.”
“What little de—Mary!” Sally’s younger sister surged into the room and greeted Mary with a hug. “Are you home for good? Stateside, at least? My God, you look wonderful.”
“So do you.” Smaller. Happier. How long had it been—five or six years? Oh, the nicknames she and Sally had hung on little Annie when they were kids. Chubby Cheeks. Mary glanced at the tall, dark and handsome cowboy trailing “Cheekers” and gave herself points for not blurting that one out. “This must be your new husband. Congratulations. I’m Mary Tutan.”
Zach Beaudry offered a tentative hand. “Tutan? As in…”
“As in Damn Tootin’s daughter.”
“And my best friend forever,” Sally said emphatically. “Dan Tutan has nothing to say about that.”
“Oh, he has plenty to say. He’s a difficult man, my father. Nobody knows that better than I do.” Mary offered a shrug and sigh. “Nobody except my mother. And my brother.” She gave an apologetic smile. “And our friends.”
“We had a very small wedding,” Ann said quickly. “At a lodge in the Black Hills. Very few guests. Mostly family.” Ann had to reach up to put her arm around Mary’s shoulders. “Of course, if you’d been here.”
“I don’t blame you for not inviting him. If I were having a wedding, I wouldn’t invite him either. He’s.” Mary glanced at Logan. “.difficult.”
“You know how he feels about the horses and the sanctuary,” Sally said. “That’s the problem.”
“With my father it’s not about feelings. It’s about having things his way. That’s what he lives for. His way puts food on the table, so that’s a good thing. As long as you like to eat what he likes to eat.”
There was an awkward silence. Mary let it play out, a buffer between revealing more than she meant to—not quite as much as she wanted to—and taking a deep breath of fresh Drexler air.
She turned to Logan. The challenge was more important to her now than it had been an hour ago. “How does half sound?”
“What are you willing to do for your half?”
“Learn. If you’re as good as they say, I’m willing to be your apprentice.” She smiled. “I know how to take orders.”
“I don’t give orders. You watch and listen, maybe you’ll learn from me, maybe not.” He glanced at Sally, whose grin was all atta boy. He folded his arms and turned back to Mary. “So, what else?”
“Whatever needs doing.”
He gestured toward Sally’s wire baskets. “Staple us together and give us a horse.”
Chapter Two
“Mother, what are you doing?” Mary hurried to Audrey Tutan’s side and reached for the handle on the old ice cream freezer her mother had just carried upstairs. “This comes under the heading of heavy lifting, which is against the doctor’s orders.” It was the metal canister and hand crank inside the bucket that made the old turquoise contraption so heavy, and the steep stairway made the heavy lifting potentially fatal. Mary eased the load from her mother’s hand, pulled the string dangling from the bare lightbulb and shut the door against the darkness.
“I thought we were taking some time off from orders,” Mother said after catching a couple of breaths. “Besides, that isn’t so heavy, and your father has a sudden urge for homemade ice cream.”
“If we aren’t taking orders that includes everybody’s orders.” Mary lifted a warning finger. “Except your doctor’s. I took notes, so don’t even think about pushing your limit, which is a package of marshmallows. Did he tell you to make ice cream?”
“No, no, he just mentioned it. He remembers how you used to go crazy over homemade ice cream after you discovered Grandma’s old ice cream freezer down in the basement. Haven’t used it since you left home.”
“They make electric…” Mary unloaded the 1960s dinosaur on the same vintage kitchen table and brushed her hands together. “You don’t mean you’ve been rummaging around in the basement.”
“Didn’t have to. I knew right where it was. Beside, it’s nice and cool down there. On the way back up the temperature seemed to rise five degrees for each step. I thought I’d make strawberry.”
Mary eyed the old clunker. She hardly remembered Grandma, who had died when she was eight and was fondly remembered, especially for all the unwritten recipes she’d handed down to her daughter. Clearly Mother clung to some hope for her own daughter. Into your hands I commend the mighty ice cream freezer. She took the top off the metal canister and checked for debris. There was only the paddle she’d cleaned of ice cream more than once with her eager young tongue.
She’d use soap and water this time.
“They make smaller ones, too,” Mary said absently as her mother took a large kettle from the cabinet above the stove. “Did he really say all that? Let’s have homemade ice cream for Mary? “
“I know how he thinks.”
Mary kept her doubts on that score to herself. Audrey Tutan had become a recluse since her children had left home. She’d always been a mind reader as far as Mary was concerned, but she’d been as protective of the cache in her daughter’s head as she was of her own. The only tales she ever told were meant to promote peace in the Tutan household. What she could see inside her husband’s head was anybody’s guess. Steadfast and quiet, Mary’s mother had always stood by her man. Just this once, could she step away and be with Mary?
