stage.
These feelings she was experiencing were a good lesson in why she’d been so cautious. Heartache. Not heartbreak, exactly, thank goodness. Still, she shouldn’t have let her guard down. Really, from now on the joy she got from dating might be diminished for fear that she might be tempted to cross that line again. Arrgggh! It was frustrating. She was content with her life the way it was. She was.
And she would be again. There was life after J.P. She had her head on straight again, and she would choose not to ever live the way her parents had lived. She’d never bring a kid into a potential time bomb. That was her motivation, the fear that she had her parents’ genes of discontent. Her mother’s words rang through her head once more…. Some people just aren’t good at being tied down. That might be true, but knowledge was power, and Sheri would use that power to control her life.
This sudden fascination with Pace so closely after thinking she might have been in love with J.P. was a sure sign of things to come. There was only one way for someone like herself to avoid a string of divorces: avoid marriage like the plague.
That was the reason she was going through with this plan.
The posse needed someone to show them that they should respect people’s choices. It hurt too badly as a kid to be yanked from Mom’s to Dad’s and back again, and it hurt too much almost letting her heart think it could have the fairy-tale happy ending.
She was going to make the ladies realize that pushing a person into something that wasn’t right for them could get a person hurt. Moody Pace Gentry was just the guy to help her.
That’s right. Whirling around, she jogged after him. He was perfect for this, and she was going to convince him to help her. No more misgivings about it. This was the right thing to do.
Plan halfway in place, Sheri jogged up Pace’s driveway and went in search of him. She found him behind the house inside a round pen that sat off by itself. It was lined with thin, split tree trunks.
Hearing the sound of Pace talking, she moved toward the structure, found a crack to peek through and made like a statue. Pace stood about thirty feet from her. He was standing in front of a chestnut-colored horse.
She hadn’t meant to spy on the guy, but couldn’t very well interrupt him now that she could see he was working. She also couldn’t stop her curiosity from getting the better of her. She was interested in how he worked. He was, after all, supposed to be the best.
So there she stood, rooted to the crack in the fence, watching and listening as he talked softly to the wary animal. Despite his surly manners, she got a kick and a half out of looking at him, probably because he reminded her of the heroes from the movies she enjoyed watching. She was nuts about movies. Westerns in particular. Not that he looked like Gary Cooper or John Wayne, but somehow he possessed their essence….
Okay, her brain was gone. She was losing it, but she couldn’t help herself. She remained quietly hidden, steadily watching.
In Pace’s hand he held a coiled rope which he was rubbing down the torso of the horse as he spoke to it in a silky voice. She remembered this horse. It had raced off the truck first and stayed as far away from people as it could get. That Pace was able to get within ten feet of it surprised her. What a difference a few days could make. Or was it the difference Pace could make? He was so calm standing there letting the horse get used to him. The way she would treat a scared puppy.
Pace held the coil of rope up and let the horse see it. Then he touched the rope to the horse’s neck, then its shoulder. She noticed that he used the coiled rope to push on the horse, too. She knew there was a reason behind every touch he administered.
His smooth as silk voice was so contrary to the gruffness he’d shown her that it startled her. Watching him in action, Sheri could totally believe he was the best. There was a gentleness she’d certainly never seen. Sheri watched for at least an hour. She couldn’t help it. Time flew by. It was the most remarkable thing she had ever witnessed.
After a while, sanity returned, and she realized there wouldn’t be an opportunity to talk without interrupting him. She finally backed away and walked down the driveway unnoticed. As she jogged her way around the bend toward home, she was filled with a quiet sense of awe.
It was a nice reprieve after all the turmoil she’d been experiencing.
Pace Gentry. What a contradiction. For as long as she lived, she didn’t think she’d ever see anything more extraordinary than the look on his face as he worked with that horse.
It wasn’t the tight scowl he wore outside the round pen. It was an expression of total contentment. He was at home within the boundaries of that circle. He was relaxed and in control. It was clear as day that Pace had been born a bronc buster.
She paused in her driveway and walked beside the sweet-scented honeysuckle vine that wound around her mailbox and ran down the length of the fence among her brightly colored birdhouses, her own mini Mule Hollow. She smiled, listening to her wind chimes singing softly in the breeze and studied her flowers as she passed.
What Pace did was lead the horses to an understanding. Exactly! His gift was that he worked with the animals until they chose to wear a saddle. He mesmerized them until they said, “Throw that saddle on up there and hop on, cowboy.”
It seemed almost laughable, yet that was exactly what it looked like.
Now she knew his secret.
Pace Gentry was like a Dr. Dolittle when it came to horses. He could practically talk to the animals. He just couldn’t talk to people!
Or, he chose not to talk to people. Or maybe just not to her.
Hmm, the man was more perplexing and interesting than any man Sheri had ever encountered.
She kind of liked that.
The salon was busy the next day. Sheri had arrived at work distracted. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and it was her neighbor’s fault. Instead of sleeping she found herself thinking about what would make a man like him leave behind a life he loved. As she worked on Edith Musgroves’s toes, she forced herself to focus on her reasons for wanting to acquire his help in executing her plan. They weren’t personal, she reminded herself, this was business. She needed to keep that in mind. At any other time dating him for real would have been a done deal. She’d have been all about seeing what he was about.
But for the purpose of achieving her goal all these thoughts about Pace Gentry’s personal life really needed to stay out of the mix. They could only complicate things. She’d chosen him because he fit the profile. He was a man who, like her, appreciated his freedom. It was obvious. Though she didn’t have this on authority, from what she’d observed and what she’d heard of the man her assumptions made sense. Now all she had to do was convince him to help her.
As the day ended Lacy finished her haircuts first and headed home, leaving Sheri to close up shop. Intent on approaching her neighbor again, Sheri had just locked up and was climbing into her Jeep when an overall-clad Norma Sue came barreling across Main Street from Pete’s Feed and Seed, holding on to her straw hat as she ran.
“Sheri, hold up there a minute,” she called.
Sheri went ahead and climbed into her open-topped vehicle, noticing some jokester had used his finger to write the words Wash me in the dust-covered red paint.
“Cute,”
