me thirty minutes?”
“Thirty minutes it is. Thanks for helping out, Sean.”
“Hey, that’s what friends are for.” He set down the pen and folded the scrap of paper.
“I didn’t know we were friends.”
“A friend of Cheyenne’s is a friend of mine.” He ignored Mrs. Gunderson who bustled into sight with a laundry basket balanced on one hip. A lone wolf could have a friend or two and still be a lone wolf, right? “I’m happy to help. I like what Cady’s doing. She could be filling her stalls with pampered horses, but she wants to make a difference. I’ll see you soon.”
“Thanks, Sean.” Eloise’s gentle alto was about the prettiest sound he’d ever heard. She wasn’t fake, like some women he could think of—Meryl came to mind—but honest and sincere. He liked that. Those were just the right qualities for a friend.
He hung up and caught Mrs. Gunderson’s raised eyebrow as she paused midway up the stairs, free hand on the rail. There was no mistaking that motherly look.
“What?” He held up both hands, the innocent man that he was. “I didn’t do anything.”
“I didn’t say a thing.” She had raised five sons of her own, so he knew she was wise to the ways of the male mind. “You call me if you aren’t coming home for supper.”
“Why wouldn’t I be home for supper?” He grabbed a chocolate-chip cookie from the jar. “This isn’t a date. It’s a humanitarian mission. Well, an animal welfare mission.”
“You like that girl.” Mrs. G. narrowed her gaze at him. “Don’t try and fool me.”
“I’m not fooling you. I like her. What’s not to like? But I don’t like her.” After Meryl, he’d be stupid to. A smart man would be leery after being used like that.
“Sometimes the best things come along when we aren’t looking for them.” She went on her way, padding up the stairs and out of sight, her words carrying up to him. “All things are possible to him who believes.”
Boy, did she have the wrong idea. Sean shook his head. Mrs. G. couldn’t be more mistaken. When he wiped a crumb off his shirt, he noticed his T-shirt had a hole in it. His jeans sported grass stains and his work boots were dirty.
Maybe he’d better go change. Getting spiffed up had nothing to do with seeing Eloise. It was simply a matter of cleanliness. He took the stairs two at a time, whistling.
“This must be the place,” Eloise said to herself as she glanced at the reflective numbers stuck to the side of a battered black mailbox. Although two numerals were missing, the description matched the vet’s directions so she eased her car off the paved county road and onto a driveway that was more dirt and potholes than gravel. She listened to the rush and whap of weeds and grass growing in the center of the lane hitting the underside of her car. Hopefully there wasn’t anything big enough to do any damage. She gripped the steering wheel tight and eased up on the gas pedal.
Something dark and large lumbered up behind her, filling the reflective surface of her rearview mirror. She recognized that dark blue pickup. Sean. The sunshine seemed brighter, although that was probably an illusion and had nothing to do with the man’s appearance. She eased around a hairpin corner and a dilapidated covering built out of corrugated metal and weathered two-by-fours came into sight. It huddled sadly against a broken-down fence. Barbed wire hung dangerously from listing and rotting posts. Most of the grass had been eaten away from an acre-sized field, where two horses pricked their ears, spotted the truck and came running.
She pulled to a stop in front of a carport that had seen better days. A rusty truck rested in the shade. Overgrown grass danced in the wind as she watched Sean’s vehicle pull up beside her. Maybe the last wheeze of the air conditioner was the reason the hair stood up on her arms. She did not want it to be a reaction to the man strolling into sight. She braced herself for the inevitable and reached for her cane.
Sean Granger looked like a western hero in his long-legged worn blue jeans. The white T-shirt he wore emphasized his sun-kissed tan and as he swept off his Stetson, muscles rippled beneath the knit cotton blend.
He raked one hand through his brown hair and smiled down at her as he opened her car door. His dreamy blue eyes captured her with a steady stare and then his gaze slid downward as she climbed out from behind the wheel, stood tall and used her cane.
Here was where he dimmed down the smile and his friendliness when he got a good look at her cane. It’s what most guys did whether they were interested or not. She braced herself for it as she took one limping step, but it didn’t come. Instead Sean closed the door for her, nodding toward the horses. “Did you get a look at them?”
“No, I was too busy trying not to lose my car in one of the potholes,” she quipped and was rewarded with a grin as he swept his hat back on.
“They saw the truck and came running. Look at them.” His hand settled on the curve of her shoulder, a friendly weight, as he turned her gently toward the fence line. “I wonder if their former owner drove a truck like mine.”
“They keep staring at it, almost waiting for someone else who might be in there.” She gasped, realizing how they must be feeling. “Dr. Cannon didn’t say how long the gentleman who owned them has been gone.”
“Three months. Animals don’t forget those they love.” Sean ambled up to the fence and held out his hands for the horses to scent.
She took the opportunity to put a little physical distance between them. He was more touchy-feely than she was used to or felt comfortable with. “How do you know that?”
“Uncle Frank knew. I told him where I was headed. He knows everyone in these parts.” Sean patted one of the horses. The big black gelding lowered his head for a good ear scratch. No one had taken time to comb out the tangles and burrs in his mane, and his hooves needed attention.
“You are a good fellow,” Sean mumbled and the horse closed his eyes in trust. There was something deeply calming about the man, Eloise agreed. He made others feel safe.
“Are you the folks the vet called about?” A middle-age man wearing faded overalls and carrying a pipe limped into sight. He didn’t seem to be in good health.
“We are.” She spun to face him, thinking about the blank check her boss had handed over to her. “I’m Eloise from the Lark Song Inn.”
“I’m Harry.” He tipped his sagging hat. “Are you still interested now that you’ve seen them? They ain’t much, and I regret to say I’m not up to caring for them.”
“I’m sure we can settle on a price.” She glanced over her shoulder at the horses, one still accepting strokes from Sean, the other watching the blue pickup sadly. He finally lowered his head, perhaps realizing his beloved former owner would not be emerging from the pickup, and stood still and silent, his dejection as tangible as the wind on her face.
She couldn’t bring back to them what was lost, but she could make sure these horses were cherished and pampered. Good things were ahead for them. They just didn’t know it yet. She tugged the check out of her purse, wondering how best to proceed.
“Do you trust me?” Sean towered over her, as breathtaking as any hero in a Western legend. “I can
