ТОП просматриваемых книг сайта:
.
Читать онлайн.
“I know, but we were getting ahead until Brett made that stupid investment.”
“Your brother didn’t make it by hisself, ya know. Your daddy okayed it.”
“I know. If he’d asked me, I could have told him—”
“Point is, he didn’t. So I’d let it go if I was you, and do your best to help turn things around, any way you can.”
“I’m trying, Tater, but my father doesn’t always listen to me. For God’s sake, I know as much, if not more, about horses than any of my brothers ever did, and he listens to them. No questions asked. And now with Daddy’s accident…”
“Well, you know how it is with a man and his sons.” He held up his hand to shut her up. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ it’s right, just that’s how it is with some people.”
“Uh-huh. And much as I love my brothers, what did those three sons do? Each of them managed the place for a while, then moved on to something else. I’m the one who stayed.”
“You’ll be moving on yourself someday, Silver. Some man’ll sweep you right on out of here.”
“What?” Her chin came up. “No, that won’t happen.”
“You’ll get yourself hitched and—”
“Think again. The only male I’m interested in—” she jerked her head toward her horse “—is this one, ’cause the man hasn’t been born yet who can sweep me off my feet.” Silver kept hoping she’d find one, but so far all the men she’d met seemed so tame. So familiar. So boring. If she ever met one who wasn’t…look out! She didn’t see much chance of that, however, not in her social circle.
Tater eyed the stallion and chuckled. “Silver, girl, I don’t think that there male is what your pa has in mind for your future.”
Silver grimaced as she started on her biggest gripe. “No. I’m supposed to be the Braybourne debutante, go to all the parties and play the dating game.”
“I always said you could do anything you put your mind to, girl.”
“Oh, I’ve got the debutante moves down pat. I know when to smile, when to flutter my lashes, when to tease and flirt. But on the whole, I’d rather muck out the stables.”
Tater laughed. “Ah, Silver, the man that takes you on is in for a hard ride. You’d swear something is black even if it’s as white as a church steeple.”
She looked down at her jeans and old, comfortable riding boots. “Did you ever try to stuff your feet into a pair of heels, Tater? Take it from me, you might as well be wearing a piece of wood balanced on a nail. My toes go numb.”
“But you look right pretty when you wear ’em.”
“Forget the flattery.”
“Don’t you have something to do today?”
“Today? I don’t think…wait a minute, what day is it?”
“It’s Monday.”
“Oh damn, Mama and I are going to that charity tea. I forgot.” She glanced at her watch. “Eleven-fifteen? It’s not that late, is it?”
“It surely is.”
“Oh, Lord, I have to get going.” Taking a good grip on Lucky Hand, she started to walk away.
“Wait a minute, Silver.” Tater caught up with her and grabbed the bridle. “I’ll rub him down and feed him. You get on up to the house and put on your fancy duds.”
“Well, I…he’s my responsibility.”
“So’s that charity project you been helping your mother with.”
“I know, but—”
“Go on, git. The horse and the farm will still be here when you get back.”
DARCY PULLED HIS PICKUP to the side of the road and stared at the sign on the outskirts of town. Cecil, it proclaimed in elegant letters. Now the adventure really begins, he thought, wondering where it would take him. Good or bad, he was here, and he’d have to play it out. What the hell, it wasn’t life or death, it was just…what? A way to find something he was missing in his life? He’d been thinking more and more about that lately, with his twenty-ninth birthday coming up. Then he shook his head. What a crock—he had everything. He just temporarily needed something new, that was all. An adventure.
The afternoon heat was kicking in with a vengeance, made worse by the sticky black vinyl seats of his borrowed truck. He’d give anything for a shower and a long cool drink about now. Right. Enough thought, time for action. He leaned over, started the truck, then glanced in his mirror and pulled back onto the highway that headed straight to the heart of Cecil, Kentucky.
It was a pretty little town, full of old, well-restored homes, riotous gardens and charming shops laid out on either side of a broad main street shaded with majestic elm trees. He looked for a likely place to stop to get a drink and find some conversation that would clue him in on job prospects around Cecil. Unfortunately, everything looked too genteel to get the kind of gossip he needed. Then he remembered his own farm and it dawned on him to look for the local feed and grain store. People there were bound to know what type of work was available.
Darcy found the feed store on the other side of the town, near the outskirts. It was a large enough business to feature gas and diesel tanks, storage areas and a large grain operation. The main building had a broad porch where a couple of old men were seated on wooden chairs, engrossed in a game of checkers.
“This is more like it,” Darcy said aloud, eyeing the men.
He pulled into the front parking area, slid out of the truck and stretched, aware of the two men giving him curious glances. With his trademark saunter he headed for the steps, pausing on the top one to ask, “Can I get a cold drink inside?”
“Yes, sir,” drawled one of the sparsely thatched, gray-haired gentlemen. “They got one of them cola machines right inside the door.”
“They’ve also got those fancy sodas in there, too, Tater,” said the other man, who was wearing an old John Deere hat pulled low over his forehead. “Remember when they put them in there?”
“That’s right, I remember ’cause…”
Positive these two geezers might go on this way for a long time, Darcy gave them a grin and small salute. “Thanks.” He sauntered inside the building, feeling their eyes on his back. He knew the men’s conversation would shift to him as soon as he disappeared through the door. Darcy pulled some coins from his pocket and made his selection at the soda machine. He took a long, cool drink before strolling back toward the doorway.
If I’m really lucky, these two old guys will open up and talk to me. Tell me just what I want to know. Unlike his father, who had an exaggerated sense of his own worth, Darcy generally found it easy to approach individuals in all strata of society, and for the most part it was easy for them to approach him, too. Unless he got on one of his arrogant high horses. Then everyone who knew him ran for cover, as the Tremont twins had last night.
Cold drink in hand, he strolled over to the railing and leaned against it. He watched the checker game, wondering how to start the conversation, when one of the men—Tater—saved him the trouble.
“Just passin’ through, are ya?” Tater asked.
“No, sir,” Darcy replied. “I’d like to find a job and stick around for a bit. Decide whether to move on or not.”
The other man jumped his red king over Tater’s black one. “Ah, you one of them migrant workers then?”
Tater glared at the board, then glared at his companion. “’Course he ain’t no migrant,