I have clothes somewhere?” Zach returned the lopsided smile. “‘Cause if I don’t have an outfit, Hoolie might not like me.”
“We dried them.” Ann transferred a short stack of neatly folded clothes from her sister’s knees to the bed, about six inches from Zach’s hand. Like she was afraid to get too close. “Actually, we washed and dried them. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, that’s great. Thanks.” He could see he was going to have to ditch the subtle humor. She’d missed his little I-see-by-your-outfit joke. “I didn’t think I was gonna make it. I remember that now. How far did I walk?”
“Three miles. We’re three miles off the road, and it dipped down below zero last night.”
“Hip still giving you trouble?” Sally asked. “I’m not in the business anymore, but I still watch and read all things rodeo. You know what I thought when Red Bull cleaned your clock that night?”
“That I was a dead man,” Zach guessed.
“That I was an idiot. I sold that bull to the Chase Brothers when he was a yearling.”
“He’s been Bull of the Year twice.” Zach grinned. “Congratulations. You’ve got yourself some good breeding stock.”
“I sold most of that, too. In this business you either have to be a fortune-teller or a fortune inheritor. I inherited a dream, and all I can tell you is, you never can tell.”
“Which is why you can’t be counted out until you are a dead man.” He laid his hand on the folded clothes. “I’ll get myself dressed and see what I can do about getting out of your way this morning.”
“No rush,” Sally said as she wheeled back on one side for a turnaround. “I have business to attend to. When Hoolie comes in, send him back to the office, will you, Annie?”
Ann stepped aside for Sally’s chair, manning the door as she spoke. “I have breakfast ready for you, and Hoolie wants to know whether to pull your pickup in.”
“You got a can and a couple gallons of gas I could buy?” At a dollar-fifty a gallon? Unless they wanted to cash a check for him. He’d have to call the bank first, save himself from adding insult to injury.
“You can discuss that with Hoolie. He’s already had a look at the pickup. I gave him your keys.” She paused, doorknob in hand. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No. That’s…that’s great. Thanks. Hey…” Zach gave a come-on nod, and Ann took a step in his direction. “Was Sally in an accident?” he asked quietly.
“No.”
“I been on the circuit quite a few years now. I meet a lot of people. I know the name, but human faces kinda morph together. You know, like in some of those TV ads. I get a chance to look a bull in the eye, that’s a face I don’t forget, but people…” He lifted one shoulder, gave an apologetic smile. “Guess I’ve taken one too many kicks in the head.”
“You couldn’t offend my sister if you tried. She never met a cowboy she didn’t like. If you’ve forgotten any of your career stats, I guarantee she can fill you in. She misses being part of it all.” She smiled back. “But she’s found something else.”
“Yeah?” He took his shirt from the pile and shook out the folds.
“Yeah. Something just as wild. How do you like your eggs?”
“Cooked.” He plunged his right arm into a sleeve. “I’m easy.”
That made two of them. Ann had been scared he’d remember, scared he wouldn’t. Now that it was settled, she could kick herself for caring, or she could take care of herself on the inside and maintain her cool on the outside.
Oh, yes, she certainly could. She’d learned a lot since her brief encounter with Zach Beaudry. She’d grown a lot. Actually, she’d shrunk quite a bit—at least sixty pounds’ worth, although she wasn’t one for stats—but she considered herself to be a bigger person than she was eight years ago, and exactly what she’d weighed when weight was a stat she had no use for anyway. Really. Back then she’d been dying her hair and using more makeup, following the advice of one transformation how-to after another. If she met her old self right now, she probably wouldn’t recognize her, either.
Yeah, she would. Ann would know her by her fear, and she’d just had a flashback. That insecure little big girl was tucked away inside her now and always would be. She deserved to be protected. Zach Beaudry’s poor memory left Ann’s good one in control. Maybe she’d remind him, just to see how he reacted. Maybe she wouldn’t. It would all play out soon enough, and it would be her call.
She was lining up the last dripping strips of fried bacon on paper towels when she heard the back door close. Hoolie Hoolihan announced himself with his signature two-note whistle from the mudroom, and she responded in kind. It was one of those routines that went way back. As far as Ann knew, her father had carved Hoolie from a Double D fence post and whistled him to life. That was the old hired man’s story, anyway, and he was sticking to it.
“How’s your patient?”
“He’s out of the woods.” Ann cracked an egg into the iron skillet, ignoring the gnarled, leathery hand that pulled a bacon soldier from her carefully arranged rank and file. “Soon to be headed for Texas.”
“Not if he’s countin’ on the ride he left sittin’ out there on the highway. Is he gonna let me tow her? Like I says, she was sittin’ on Easy, but I gave her a little juice, and she still wouldn’t turn over.”
“You can ask him after you check in with Sally. She’s back in the—”
“You can ask him now.” He favored his left side as he ambled across the tile floor and stuck out his hand. “Zach Beaudry. You must be the man they keep referring me to. Hoolie?”
“Gas ain’t gonna do ‘er. You got Triple A?”
Zach chuckled and shook his head.
“The last guy we had broke down out here, he told me he had Triple A. One of them fancy foreign jobs. Good luck gettin’ parts around here for one o’ them babies. But he was gone next I looked, so I guess the Force was with him, huh? Satellite, beamer-upper, club card, something. ‘Course, you wouldn’t be freezin’ your ass off walkin’ in from the highway…”
“…if I hadn’t left home without the card. Next time I’m takin’ the Beamer and the satellite.”
“You can always get a horse. You’ll still freeze your ass off.” Hoolie looked up expectantly, eyes twinkling.
“But it sure beats walkin’.” Zach clapped a hand on the wiry old cowboy’s shoulder. The men shared a laugh while Ann smiled to herself and tended to the eggs. “How much gas did you put in? I’m beginning to think she’s got a hollow leg.”
“I put in five gallons, but no go. I can pull ‘er into the shop here and have a look later on. Long as she’s American made, I can prob’ly get ‘er goin’. Or you can use my tools if you’re in a hurry.”
“I’m on your
