Chapter Seven

Night began to read an email, but found his attention pulled to the young therapist before he could finish the first paragraph. He watched Summer instruct his mother on the newest exercise in her physical therapy regimen. She coaxed and assisted her as she lifted her right leg to a parallel position to the floor while sitting on a chair. Slowly, but surely, the leg extended, held for a few seconds, then relaxed again. Over and over they repeated this, Summer lavishing praise more than once for her efforts.

His mother slumped back in her recliner. “I’m exhausted.”

Summer smiled at her. “But you did a great job today. We’ll save working on the stairs for tomorrow.”

Hearing the end of the session for the day, Night emerged from his office, heading toward the women.

“You’re welcome to stay for lunch.”

“That’s very sweet, but I really can’t.”

“Other patients today?” he inquired, propping a hip against the back of the couch.

She glanced up, her brown eyes meeting his. “Actually, no. I have the afternoon off, but I have to do some repairs on a gate in my pasture. It’s sagging and the post holding the gate is as rotten as decade old fruitcake.”

“I’ll come over and help you.”

Summer’s eyes widened in obvious surprise. “Oh, no. Really. It’s okay. I can do it by myself. Besides, I’m sure you have other things to do.”

He smirked at her backpedaling. She would get his help whether she wanted it or not. “You need two people to hang the gate and get the hinges right. Someone has to hold up the other end.” The thought of some one-on-one time with the pretty therapist sent his mind to spinning and anticipation surging through his veins.

She blinked as if she’d never considered that possibility.

Pushing his advantage, he gave a slight nod. “I’ll grab my tools, follow you home, and help you get that gate fixed.”

“But…but…”

Night shook his head. “No arguments.”

“He likes to work with his hands. And, with him gone, I can watch my soap opera in peace and quiet.” His mother chimed in.

“See?”

“Well, I guess so. If you really don’t mind.”

His lips twitched at Summer’s reluctant acceptance. Stubborn and independent. He would give her credit for both traits in abundance. They only added to her intrigue and attraction, as he much preferred self-reliant women over those that couldn’t lift a finger to help themselves. He worked hard and expected a woman to pull her own weight, not simply sit upon her throne and look beautiful. Summer certainly fit that bill from what he’d determined thus far.

* * * *

Thirty minutes later, Night pulled into her gravel driveway, following her car up to a pair of huge overhanging oak trees. After parking the truck, he stepped out, taking in the view. An old two-story white farmhouse stood in the middle of fenced pastures, the driveway serving as a dividing line. The house appeared in good repair, sporting a large covered front porch with steps leading down to the ground. A green, floral-patterned swing occupied one corner, inviting guests to take a seat, drink a glass of lemonade, and spend a lazy afternoon watching nature. He wanted to do just that. Tuck Summer under his arm, pull her against his body, and spend the afternoon talking and cuddling.

With a rueful grin, he shook his head. Mother’s nagging must be getting to me. His interest and attraction to Summer’s girl-next-door ways baffled him. In all his prior experiences, he’d sought women considered traditionally more sexy, yet independent. More like strong willed businesswomen who quickly climbed the ladder. Professional dancers and a couple of models joined the mix. Those were the women who had drawn his attention before. One day, he would stumble across one he liked and decide to keep her. Liar. The voice in his head disagreed immensely, clamoring at him to pay attention to what stood right in front of him.

Summer bounded up the steps, opening the door and allowing a large white fluffy dog out. The animal greeted her with licks and tail wags before lifting her nose to the air. Seconds later, she trotted toward him, deep brown eyes watching him with intensity.

“Night. Meet Murphy, the Great Pyrenees.”

He reached out, holding one hand for the dog to sniff. Once she had done so and decided he proved to be no threat, she moved closer, leaning her heavy frame against his legs. “Murphy, huh?” He petted her head, scratching behind her ears, not the least unbalanced with the addition of her weight.

Summer moved closer, rubbing the dog’s chin. “The rescue named her that when they took her in. She responded to it, so I kept it.” She smiled at the dog, bending down to receive another lick across the face.

He found himself grinning at the spectacle. “Rescue? She was a stray?”

“Yeah.” She stood up straight, keeping a hand on Murphy. “The neighbors saw her living around the highway for a while, surviving off road kill. Finally, someone with a heart picked her up and took her to the pound. A large dog rescue pulled her from there at the last minute before she was put down. Those wonderful people sheared her down to get all the mats out, got her spayed, and all the vet care she needed. I saw her at a mobile adoption site and fell in love. She’s the best dog.”

Night rubbed one hand across Murphy’s back, noting the soft, thick coat. “Bet you’re handy with a brush.” He teased, enjoying the joy and pride evident in Summer’s demeanor.

She chuckled. “Oh, yeah.” After reaching down, she tugged on the dog’s collar. “Come on, Murphy. You better go to the bathroom then it’s back inside for you. Way too hot for you to be out in this sun. Air conditioner is more your style.”

Sure enough, the dog trotted off, nose to ground to find the perfect spot. After finishing her business, she jogged up the steps with her long pink tongue hanging out, heading back through the door Summer held open.

A shuffling noise caught his attention. Spinning around, he found three tall horses standing at the fence, watching him with rapt interest. Must be the rescued thoroughbreds Summer mentioned.

After walking over, he reached out to the nearest one, a black with just a spot of white on his nose and two white socks on his front legs. His practiced gaze raked over each horse, studying their conformation, their lines, and rippling muscles. He whistled low. Talk about well-bred, high-class horseflesh.

As a kid, he’d longed for a horse of his own. A typical dream of most children, he assumed. But, no matter how hard his mother had worked, a farm full of beautiful horses wouldn’t have come to pass. That fact hadn’t deterred him in the least. Notching his fascination down to his Native American heritage, he’d studied the animals, learned everything he could, checked out every library book devoted to the study of such noble beasts. In junior high, his dream had nearly come true. For earning exceptional grades, high risk students had been rewarded with an all-expense paid trip to the summer camp of their choosing. One of those camps featured a ranch setting, complete with horses, cattle and riding the range, being a real cowboy for two weeks. He’d leaped at the chance, soaking up every minute and each tiny bit of knowledge that he could from the workers and vets at the Rising Sun Ranch. More motivated than ever, he’d worked extra hard to make straight As in school, earning a return trip for six consecutive years.

Once he’d graduated high school, he longed for college and to pursue further education, but had fallen short due to lack of funds. A couple of scholarships came his way, but neither proved to be full ride and had only paid a portion of the exorbitant cost of higher education. Not discouraged, he’d looked to the army, enrolling right after graduation.

He’d pushed aside his love of horses and dreams of owning and riding them once he’d entered the military. After all, when he had no real home of his own, was sent all over the world at a moment’s notice, and had no inkling when or if he’d make it back, dreams such as a farm, family, and children had become a distant fog. He’d learned to live in the present, not hope for the future.

He hadn’t realized how much he still dreamed of a life with horses until now, his hand resting on a chiseled, regal face, the smell of dust and hide fresh in his nostrils. If he closed his eyes, he could easily transport back to those glorious days at the ranch, spending hours in the saddle, and loving every minute of it.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Summer’s voice carried to him as she moved to stand at his side, stroking the forehead of a bay.

“Gorgeous.” The word came out automatically as he marveled over such amazing animals. He always considered racehorses to be nervous and jumpy, even temperamental. Nothing in these horses’ behavior resembled those previous beliefs. Instead, each one pushed against the other, seeking nothing more than a human hand to rub their shiny hide. Each one carried themselves well, nicely rounded with a layer of fat over their ribs, appearing to be in the peak of health.

Glancing down, he checked out their long legs, noticing extra-large, bulging knees on one of them. “What’s wrong with his knees?” He asked, using both hands to stroke under the noseband of a leather halter, grinning when the tall black gelding groaned in contentment.

“Bone chips. That’s Domino, by the way. He raced for a while but only earned modest winnings. When he developed bone chips, they retired him. His owners didn’t feel he warranted life as a stud, so they allowed a thoroughbred adoption program to take him rather than send him to the slaughterhouse. The foster home gelded him, had surgery done on his knees, and basically prepared him for life as a pasture pet since he can’t be ridden.”

A blood bay with a strong white stripe down the center of his face pushed his nose into Night’s chest, nudging pointedly for attention. All but his left rear leg carried white stockings, contrasting nicely with the deep reddish-brown color.

“Okay. Okay. I get the message.” Night chuckled at the antics of the shortest horse in the group, but only by a couple of inches at the withers. All three had to stand around sixteen hands, in his opinion.

Summer giggled. “And that’s Tolly. He’s quite the ham.”

“What’s his story?” Night rubbed over the sleek muscles of Tolly’s neck.

“He’s the oldest, twenty-one this year. Back in his day, he was quite the racehorse. Won a handful of major grade-one races, came in third in the Kentucky Derby. As he got older, he began to lag, so they set him up for stud. Unfortunately, they soon discovered he was sterile. The owners kept him around as a pet and to hang out in the pasture with the newly weaned foals, like a nanny. But, as times got a bit harder and he aged, they made the decision to let him go. Luckily, the rescue took him in and let me adopt him.”

“You have some prime horseflesh, here.” He commented, amazed that he stood in the middle of nowhere, petting horses that once ran and won, earning their owners thousands of dollars, perhaps more. Never before had he considered what happened to retired racehorses or the ones that simply didn’t make the grade to begin with. Now that he knew, he applauded the organizations transitioning such beautiful and deserving animals into adoptive homes for average people to admire and love.

Summer sidestepped before reaching over the fence to caress the nose of the tallest horse, a dark gray gelding with deep black eyes, a wide, powerful build, and white mane with a matching tail that brushed the ground. The animal stepped closer, snuffling her ear before resting his chin on her shoulder. She massaged his neck with a smile on her face. “This is Ghost. He’s a great grandson of Secretariat. Major bloodlines and lots of money went into his breeding.”

Night appraised the gray horse for the first time, astounded at the racing royalty that stood before him. “Did he race?”

She nodded, tucking her fingers under his halter to rub an itchy spot on his cheek. “Yeah. From what the owners said, either he lacked the speed or the heart or both. He basically fell short of their expectations, so they sent him away, replaced him with another, more profitable, animal.”

He glanced at her, noting the sadness flash across her face as she spoke of the side effect of breeding and raising thousands of racehorses every year. Like the overpopulation of dogs and cats, each year a surplus of horses existed, those that didn’t make the cut on the track. The slaughterhouse took most of those, he imagined, but a few lucky ones ended up in adoptive homes, living out their days as big pets and companion animals, or managed a second career if their health stood up to the task.

“Were these the only horses they had at the time?”

“Oh, goodness no.” Summer fussed over the gray gelding some more. “I only visited one foster farm and saw perhaps seven or eight horses. I’m sure they had more and I know, for a fact, that other foster homes exist. Since I leaned toward adopting a pasture pet rather than a horse that I could show and ride in events, they steered me toward the one place.”

“So, why these three?” He resumed brushing Tolly’s forelock with his fingers, straightening the black hair to center between his eyes.

She tilted her head this way and that as if searching for an answer. “I’m not really sure. To be corny, they called to me. Something just meshed. Does that make sense?” She met his gaze.

He nodded. “Yeah, it does.” Just like his attraction to her. She called to him on some basic level. A primitive instinct that prodded him to keep her close, learn more, and find out if she just might hold his future in her care.

Again, he saw Summer’s innate goodness, her true compassion—not only for people but for animals in need. She said only one horse could be ridden. The gray had to be it. The other two, she fed and cared for, shelling out a lot of money for the basic joy of having such beautiful, pedigree equines grace her pasture. Most people would expect a horse to be useful, have some means of earning their keep. Not Summer.

Again, she had knocked him off balance. His respect for her grew as did his need to be near her, soak up the bright glow that she radiated. Deep inside, his heart stuttered as he watched her interact with her horses. He wanted her to look at him that way, to touch him with gentle reverence, to softly praise his strength and handsomeness, to physically show him her love and devotion.

His groin tightened immediately at the images flashing through his head. Setting his back teeth, he fought his natural reaction, reminding himself of the hot and sweaty work ahead. A picture of her white T-shirt soaking with sweat, leaving the material to cling to her flat belly and outline those modest, bra-covered breasts came to mind.

Tolly stamped a hoof to shake off a fly, pulling Night’s attention back to the task at hand. “I suppose we should get to it. It’s already getting hot and will only get hotter.”

Summer patted Ghost’s neck one more time before stepping back. “Good idea. Let me grab a cooler with drinks then we’ll head to the side pasture.” She pointed to the location. “The gate is out in the sun, unfortunately. There are lots of trees, some really big ones in the pastures, but that particular spot never gets shade.”

* * * *

No sooner had Night set the heavy cooler full of drinks in the bed of his truck than Summer hopped in the passenger’s side. Once he got settled behind the steering wheel, she directed him to the south side of the house. Sure enough, near the large water tank, an old metal gate rested heavily on the ground.

He climbed out, grabbed his shovel and crowbar, and walked to the crumbling log post. “It’s seen better days.”

Summer followed, a long lead rope in hand. “Definitely. I was afraid it would break off before I could get it fixed. I didn’t want the horses getting out and possibly on the road.”

“Speaking of…” He gestured to the small herd, making their way along the fence line to their location.

“They’re quite nosey, like little old ladies searching for the tiniest bit of gossip. Have to be in the middle of everything.” The tone of her voice spoke of affection and endearment rather than criticism.

He grinned, watching the animals. The gray led, his trot flowing, fluid, and effortless, saying a lot for his outstanding bloodlines and condition. The image could’ve gone into a calendar for its simple beauty. Tolly followed behind, moving a bit slower, but no less enthusiastically. For an old animal, he still held his own. Domino pulled up the rear, his movements more stiff and deliberate. Night felt for the animal, understanding how arthritis probably offered him daily pain as well as limited mobility—frustrating and downright sad for a racehorse with such a résumé.

“He gets medication for his arthritis and the vet keeps a close eye on him. Tolly gets it too, but only at certain times of the year. His main need is senior feed because it’s hard for him to chew and he needs a special mix.” Summer shimmied around the gate, hooking one end of the rope to the side fence and another to the front one, essentially blocking off the area they would be working in.

Glancing behind, he noticed the small, but well-built barn he’d glimpsed earlier from a distance. It appeared fairly new, covered with painted wood, and sporting shingles on the roof. It wouldn’t hold many horses, but could easily handle the three she owned. “Nice barn.”

She peered up from her task, looking at the building. “Thanks. I saved up for a full year in order to get it built. Once I realized the needs of the horses I wanted to adopt, I knew the barn was essential, along with some amenities.”

He met her eyes. “Amenities?”

Summer shrugged. “It has water plumbed into it, for bathing or filling water buckets for their stalls. The whole place is insulated. I didn’t have the funds to heat it. Even if I did, I doubt I could afford the winter electric bills, so I did the best I could with top of the line insulation. I lined that with hay and straw bales, to help curb the frigid wind. There are three stalls, but the other half of the barn is an open space, where the horses can simply hang out together and not be confined.”

“Nice.”

She smiled brightly. “Thanks. I like it.”

His gut clenched at the brightness of her expression. How he’d considered her plain, he didn’t know, not when she became prettier each and every day. “Looks like we have to dig this old post up, then replace it with a metal one.”

“Yep. I have the metal post in the barn. I’ll go get it when we’re ready for it. In the meantime, I’ll be glad to shovel.”

He stalked over, pushing on the wooden post, cringing when it wiggled under the pressure. “Definitely rotten. Let’s pull the fence off it first then work on digging it up.” Night focused on the task at hand, intent upon getting the new gate up before sundown.