a horse cannot love a woman.” Buster sat up, planting his boots back on the floorboard of the pumpkin. “I guess we better head for the house.”
* * *
THEY WERE QUIET for the ride across Buster’s 450-acre kingdom. Mugsy and Mitzi ran along beside them till Buster deemed they were tired out, then he slowed down for them to jump into the pumpkin. When the house came into view, Buster pointed out a barn to the far right of it. Joiner had noticed it when he was driving up—a big horse barn painted red, with a white star above the doors. He saw now that there was a riding arena behind it.
“That’s Stella’s setup.”
Buster didn’t go any closer. Instead, he veered left toward the house, and Joiner noticed the old RV again under the trees.
“Was that your rodeo mansion?” He pointed to it. Surprisingly, Buster drove up close.
“That’s it. We use it as a guesthouse now. Wanna see inside?”
He turned off the motor of the pumpkin without waiting for Joiner to answer. Using a key to unlock the RV, Buster held the door open for Joiner to enter. Despite the dust, it was surprisingly well-kept inside. Kind of like a museum dedicated to the rodeo life of yesteryear.
“You know, since I can’t sell the land, I’d consider renting the guesthouse if you can think of anyone who might be interested. Especially someone with a strong back for work and horses they’d like to board.” Buster tugged at his whiskers. “I don’t want any riffraff, though.”
Joiner didn’t tell the older man what he was thinking, that “riffraff” were the only ones who would be interested in the setup. Except, maybe, for him.
“What about me?” Joiner couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth, but he didn’t try to retrieve them. He liked Buster. And something, though admittedly he couldn’t see what, was drawing him to the place.
“You? A pretty boy like you?”
“Mr. Scout, I need a place to live and board my horse, and you won’t sell me any land.” Joiner kicked a clod of dirt.
“Call me Buster.”
“Okay, Buster.”
“You serious?”
“I’m not afraid of hard work. If you’ll let me board Pistol and breed him out of here maybe I can save up the money to get my own place when the right one becomes available.” Joiner raised his eyebrows and grinned at the older man. “One that is actually for sale.”
“You’re a smart aleck, you know it?” Buster held out his hand for a shake. “But I don’t mind a little of that—and I might be able to make a real cowboy out of you. It’s a deal.”
Joiner shook his hand and they hopped back into the pumpkin. Buster sped the rest of the way to the house as if he was late for a party. Joiner liked the older man’s style.
“Stella!” Buster called, opening the back door. “Pretty? Stellllaaaa!”
An image of Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire flashed through Joiner’s mind. He followed Buster into the foyer, where Buster called her again, looking up the stairs.
“I guess she ain’t in here.”
“Well, sir, if you don’t mind, I’ll just get going. I’ll start moving in tomorrow, if that’s okay.”
“I wanted to let you and Stella do some talking. You’ll mostly be working for her, you know. Getting her business up and running.”
“Oh. Well.” Joiner reached out for the banister. This was a little more than he bargained for. A mixture of curiosity and acid from his lack of breakfast churned in his stomach, but he needed the arrangement to work. He was running out of money, and no other interesting options had popped up.
Joiner straightened himself up and grinned, offering his hand to Buster again. “You just tell her I am at her service.”
The front door opened, and Stella walked in on them.
“Well, now you can tell her yourself!” Buster clapped his hands together.
“Tell me what?” Stella demanded.
“Joiner is going to live in the RV and be our new ranch hand.”
Stella took this news as if she’d been punched in the face.
“What?”
“I decided not to sell the land, but he’s going to live here and help us out on the ranch for a while.”
Stella’s eyes widened as the news sank in.
“You’re not selling?” She smiled, but her smile was for Buster only.
“No.” Buster shook his head. “But we’ve made an arrangement where he can board his horse here and help with chores, and he’ll be help to you with the school. You won’t have to pay as much for a ranch hand, and he won’t have to fork over lots of money for lodging. It’s a win-win.”
She seemed to bristle at this idea.
Buster grabbed the front doorknob and turned it. “You two probably ought to talk a little bit among yourselves. I’ve got to go check my chickens.” He let the screen door slam behind him.
What a crafty old goat, Joiner thought, hoping he hadn’t made a big mistake in agreeing to live and work here.
Stella motioned to Joiner. “I guess we could sit on the porch?”
He followed her through the screen door and sat down in one of two rockers that flanked a small table. She took the porch swing, the farthest seat away.
“So, your dad told me about your school. I think it’s a great idea.”
Her head snapped to attention. “What did he tell you?”
“Just that you want to help people through therapy with horses.”
“Did he mention safety?”
“Um, no. We didn’t really go very far into it.”
“Safety is my first concern with the school—and I saw the way you drove in here like you were in a high-speed chase.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
She continued, “I don’t know what you’re used to with polo, but I’d imagine it will be a lot different than what I’m doing here.”
Joiner was sure it would aggravate her, but he couldn’t resist. “I’m used to having fun on horses.”
She snorted. “Well, I hope my clients have fun on our horses, but my first priority is that they are safe at all times.” Her brown eyes bored into him. “It will have to be your priority too while you work here.”
“Okay,” Joiner said, and then added in his thoughts,
