“Oh.” The boy shuffled his feet and hung his head. “I don’t think Hoodoo and Aurora like me. They won’t even take a carrot from me.”
Gabe knew why; he’d seen the kid a couple of times at the fence, jumping up and down and waving his arms and yelling to get the horses’ attention. God knows what kind of strange creature they thought he was, but it was unlikely to be a flattering conclusion on their parts.
“Did you remember what I said about staying quiet and moving slowly?”
His expression became mulish. “But if I just stand there, they ignore me!”
Smart horses. Gabe wished he could ignore the kid, too.
* * *
CIARA WENT OUT the kitchen door and made her way toward the creek that ran at the back of the property. In front, the land was all pasture, but sloping down behind the house was the beginning of a kind of open, dry woods that continued as far as she could see. The trees were evergreen, but there was no understory like there’d be in Western Washington, with ferns and salal and salmonberries, all encouraged by the generous rainfall. Instead there was thin grass and otherwise bare ground that she imagined would be really dusty once summer came.
Were there fish in the creek? She speculated about whether Mark would enjoy fishing. After a moment she made a face. She couldn’t picture him being willing to knock a wriggling trout he’d caught on the head to kill it. Or doing something as gruesome as cutting off the head. And Lord knows she didn’t want to do that part.
She ought to let him wander in peace. That was part of the beauty of owning a good-size piece of land, wasn’t it? If there was a raging river back here, that would be different, but he couldn’t drown in the creek, not unless he slipped, cracked his head on a rock and ended up unconscious and facedown in the water.
Her steps quickened. He did trip an awful lot. Still— Mostly, she just wanted him to let her know when he went outside and when he came back in the house. Plus, she didn’t know the dangers here. This was so different from any place she’d ever lived.
The day felt pleasantly like spring, blue sky arching overhead. Trees she thought might be cottonwoods clustered along the creek. Even so, it didn’t take her long to determine that Mark wasn’t here, either.
She cupped her hands and yelled, “Mark!”
There wasn’t any answer this time, either. Mild concern morphed into the beginnings of apprehension. She was running by the time she reached the house again. After bounding up the steps, she called his name one more time, but the same quiet met her. Damn it, where could he be?
Had somebody come by that she hadn’t heard? Would Mark have gone with anyone without having told her?
She grabbed her purse and car keys then raced back out. She’d go from neighbor’s to neighbor’s, driving slowly in between. She wouldn’t panic yet. A boy Mark’s age had no reason to feel a need to check in constantly with his mother. He wasn’t inconsiderate, exactly, but the idea of her worrying wouldn’t cross his mind.
Gabe Tennert’s first, she decided. Mark had been intrigued by him. Neither of them had yet met the people on the other side or the ones across the road. Although there were obviously some kids at the house a little ways down. Maybe—
She drove down her long driveway faster than she should have, dust pluming behind, turned right on the two-lane road then right without even signaling into Mr. Tennert’s driveway. As cool as he’d been, she was trying not to think of him as Gabe. That was too...friendly.
And friendly was the last emotion she’d feel if she found out he’d been letting Mark hang out without insisting her son call home first.
* * *
GABE KNEW MAD when he saw it, and there it was, vibrating in front of him, in the person of Ciara Malloy.
Mark didn’t seem to have noticed. “Mom! Look at all these cool tools Mr. Tennert has. And he’s like me. See? He has a place for everything, and he says he never quits work without putting every single tool away and cleaning up every scrap of wood and even sawdust.” He sounded pleased and awed. He hadn’t been as impressed by the huge band resaw or the pillar drill, grinder and sanding machines as he’d been by Gabe’s regimented ranks of clamps and the rolling chest with multiple drawers that held his tools, each placed as precisely in a slot designed just for it as a surgeon’s tools might be in the operating room.
“You disobeyed my direct order,” his mother said from between tight lips. She shot a fiery look at Gabe.
“I didn’t!” her son cried. “You said I couldn’t go in the pasture, and I didn’t.”
She stared at him. “If you didn’t cut through the pasture—”
“I went down the driveway and along the road. Didn’t you see my bike? Though it would be a lot faster if I could go through the pasture, Mom. Then I wouldn’t have to ride my bike on the road. The horses wouldn’t hurt me.” Momentary chagrin crossed his face. “They won’t even come near me.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Okay, new rule. You need to tell me if you are going to leave our property. Always. No exceptions.”
“But Mom! You say I can’t interrupt you when you’re working. That’s already a rule.”
“Then you wait until I take a break.”
“But Mom—!” Even he seemed finally to notice she was steaming. “Are you mad?”
“I was scared when I couldn’t find you.” She transferred her gaze to Gabe. “Didn’t it occur to you I’d be worried?”
“I did ask if you knew where he was,” Gabe said mildly. “He said...” He frowned, unable to remember exactly what Mark had said. “I’m right next door,” he added.
“He knows better than to bother you, especially in the middle of a working day.”
“I’m not bothering Mr. Tennert,” Mark assured her. “Am I?” Eyes as blue as his mother’s met Gabe’s. The beseeching expression was his downfall. Damn it, the kid was a bother. Gabe would really like it if Ciara forbade him visiting. But looking into those eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to be that blunt. It would feel like kicking a puppy.
“Ah...a little break didn’t hurt anything. I’d have kicked him out pretty soon.”
“I wish you’d show me how to use your tools,” the boy said wistfully.
Gabe cringed at the idea of those uncoordinated limbs anywhere near a whirring saw blade. Hand tools, though...
“Whatever he says, you cannot pop over here whenever you feel like it and bother Mr. Tennert,” Ciara said. Her sigh was almost surreptitious. Did she have as hard a time crushing the kid’s hopes as he did? Gabe wondered.
“Make it Gabe,” he suggested, glancing at the boy. “Both of you.”
They beamed at him. “Oh,” the mother said. “My name’s Ciara. Did I tell you that?” She spelled it for his benefit, and he nodded. Spelling never had been his strong suit.
“I
