After she left, he grinned. “When I fell, I landed in a mud puddle and was covered from head to toe. It was a big mud puddle.”
“When can—we—do it?” Mindy asked, eagerness giving her face a radiant glow.
“How about this weekend? I’m free after church on Sunday.” Tory glanced from the little girl to Slade.
“Only if you allow me to bring the picnic.”
“This is my treat. I invited you.”
“Then let me bring the dessert.” Determination marked his expression.
Tory shrugged. “Fine.”
“What do you like?”
“Oh, just about anything with chocolate. Surprise me.”
“I’ve gotten the impression you weren’t someone who liked to be surprised.”
“Not usually.” Tory clasped her hands in her lap to still their trembling. Control and order were so important in her life, the threads that held it together. “I don’t like to take risks, either, but I think I’ll be safe with you bringing the dessert.”
“Isn’t your Bright Star Stables a financial risk?”
“Yes, but then some things are important enough to risk. I saw a need and wanted to do something about it.”
“And this parent is grateful. If I can help you with anything, please let me know.”
Tory thought about her low bank account, but pride kept her from saying anything. For many years she had done everything on her own. She was used to that and would somehow make the therapeutic riding program a success. When her aunt’s inheritance had allowed her to fulfill a dream, she’d known in her heart this was what God had wanted her to do with her life. God would provide the means to keep Bright Star Stables going.
Slade’s gaze bore into her as if he could reach into her mind and read it. “It’s okay to ask for help when you need it.”
“Look—Dad-dy.” Mindy jostled her father’s arm, then pointed out the window at the baby geese swimming in a line behind one of their parents with the other bringing up the rear.
If it wouldn’t have raised more questions at Mindy’s timely interruption, Tory would have gladly hugged and kissed the child. The conversation was getting too personal for her. Keeping people at a distance had become such a habit for her that any probing into her feelings or past proved highly uncomfortable. She swiped the film of perspiration from her upper lip, then finished off her cold water.
After watching the geese with his daughter for a few minutes, Slade returned his attention to Tory. “I’ll drop the subject for now, but it’s in my best interest to see Bright Star Stables continue.”
Mindy swung her gaze to her father, a deep line across her forehead. “What’s—wrong?”
With his regard trained on Tory, Slade answered, “Nothing, sweetheart. I just wanted Tory to know how much we both appreciate the work she does.”
Mindy bounced up and down. “Yeah!”
Heat scorched her cheeks. She noticed a few patrons looking their way. Breaking eye contact with Slade, she studied her place mat. “Thank you,” she whispered, relieved that the waitress brought them their food, taking the focus off her. She preferred being in the background, having had more than her share of the limelight in the past—something she never wanted to relive again.
Tory bit into her thick, juicy hamburger and sighed. “I’d forgotten how great this tasted.” She popped a small onion ring into her mouth. “And this. Of course, this will go straight to my hips.”
“I don’t think that’ll hurt you.” Slade dumped several sugar packets into his iced tea.
“It will if I had to buy a whole new wardrobe. About all I can afford is a flour sack.” The second she’d said it, she regretted the reference to her financial state.
Slade’s eyes gleamed, but his lips remained pressed together.
Tory blew out a breath of air, thankful he wasn’t going to pursue the topic. “Have you lived in Cimarron City long?”
“All my life. How about you?”
“Just a few years. I moved here from Dallas.”
“What made you leave Dallas for Oklahoma?”
She should have expected the question, but still it took her by surprise. “The weather.”
“We have the same beastly heat in the summer as Dallas.”
“Actually, my aunt died and left me her small ranch. I came to sell it and decided to stay.”
“You don’t miss the big city.”
“Cimarron City is big enough for me. Besides, I’m a country gal at heart, and even though there are eighty thousand living here, it doesn’t seem that way when I’m out on my ranch.”
“But it’s still a far cry from Dallas.”
And for that Tory was thankful, but didn’t say it out loud. Her memories of her hometown of Dallas were laden with sorrow, which had nothing to do with the city itself. But if she never went back, that would suit her just fine. “Do you have any other family here?” She wanted to take the focus off her and Dallas.
“I have an uncle in a retirement home in Tulsa. His son moved away when he went to college and hasn’t returned except to visit a few times. My younger brother lives in Chicago and loves the big city. My father died ten years ago and Mom decided to live in the southernmost tip of Florida where it’s warm all the time. So I’m the last Donaldson here in Cimarron City.”
Mindy tugged on his arm. “Me—too.”
“How right you are. Mindy and I are the last Donaldsons here. How about your family?”
Tory finished another huge onion ring, then washed it down with a swallow of raspberry-flavored tea. “All my family lives in Texas.”
“Do you see them much?”
“They visit the ranch every summer for the Fourth of July.”
“You don’t go home?”
“It’s hard for me to get away because of the horses. Someone has to look after them and I can’t afford help. I’m stuck, but I don’t mind.”
“Are all the horses at the ranch yours?” Slade took a bite of his hamburger.
“No, I stable some. That brings me some needed income to do what I love.”
“The therapeutic riding program?”
Tory nodded. “I’ll need to get back to the ranch before dark. I still have some chores to do.”
“Are you through, Mindy?” Slade tossed his napkin on the table.
The
