“The Major League baseball club out of Boston! He’s a damn baseball player, Bell! Professional at that!”
“Oh . . . I have a feeling your last sentence was filled with exclamation points.”
“It was, only because I couldn’t thump you in the head for being so dense. So, you met Hawk?”
I tell her about our encounter and how he might be interested in buying the land. She stands up and does some dance when I inform her that I have his number and she insists that I call him — not to talk about the property, but to pretend that I lost something and to hint that I’ll be going back up there. I have no intentions of doing such a thing.
“He’s single,” she says.
“How do you know?”
Karter shows me her phone. “Player profile.”
“Well, I guess it’s too bad you’re in a committed relationship.” I point out.
She laughs. “You’re not.”
Any response I thought about mustering was cut off by the phone ringing. I glare at her, throwing daggers as she walks out of my office. I’m in no position to date or pursue anyone, not with Brett Larsen trying to ruin my life here.
Eleven
Hawk
After a night of tossing and turning, mostly due to the throbbing in my arm, I decided to get up and take my mom’s mare, Cadbury, who was named after the candy because of her rich brown coat, for a ride. It had been quite some time since I found myself on top of a saddle and yet after about twenty minutes, it all came back to me. And so did the muscle strain I knew I’d feel later in the afternoon. Still, being out in the open on a crisp spring morning felt good, but it wasn’t until I came across Bellamy Patrick standing near our property line, that my morning changed. My intent was to ask her if she were lost, but one look at her and the way she was dressed for her nature walk and I knew I had to stay and chat. There was an innocence about her that I found intriguing, and I loved her sense of humor. Someone who can joke with you and at themselves is hard to find these days. Most importantly, she had no idea who I was even after I gave her my name. That rarely happens. Usually once I tell a woman who I am, they turn their flirting up to about a hundred and I hate that.
By most standards, it’s still early when I get back to the barn. By rancher standards, it’s time for a snack because they’ve been up since before the sun. The ranch is bustling though, under the mid-morning sun. Elizabeth is working with a horse and will teach barrel racing later and Avery runs a 4H program from the ranch after school. Their husbands are likely herding cattle or having a macho tree climbing race, while the other hands are doing their respective chores. Any which way I look, someone is doing something for my parents.
After dismounting Cadbury, I lead her back to her stall and make sure she has fresh water and hay. “Missed you at breakfast this morning.”
Mom walks toward me with her pants tucked into her muck boots. When she reaches Cadbury’s stall, her horse neighs and comes over to her. They nuzzle, much like people do with their dogs and cats. “How was she?”
“Perfect. I had a little trouble mounting her because of my arm, but she didn’t seem to mind.”
“She’s such a good mare. The twins learned to ride on her. So did Nolan. Speaking of, have you spoken to your nephew?”
“I haven’t had a chance. I thought they’d be at dinner last night.”
“Me too, but I think Elizabeth and Warner are worried.”
“He’s just a kid. They should let him explore. What do Ali and Ava do for fun?”
Mom sighs. “Everything. 4H, ice skating. Ava wants to be a logger, so Alan takes her to competitions and is teaching her how to climb. Ali wants to be everything: Princess, hairdresser, lawyer. She tells your father someday she’s going to be a lawyer during the day and a stylist at night all while married to Prince George.”
“Do I know this Prince George’s family?”
My mom laughs so hard, she has to bend over. “Oh, Hawk. I’ve missed having you at home. And no, not personally. His great-grandmother is the currently Queen of England.”
“Ah,” I say, even though I’m utterly lost. “I’ll spend some time with Nolan. Maybe take him down to the fields after school.”
“Check with your sister first. Don’t just kidnap her boy.” She laughs, but it’s only because she knows that’s exactly what I planned to do. I give my mom a kiss on her cheek and head toward the arena where my sister is either training or wrangling a horse. I’m not sure which. When I come to the white, stockade fence, I rest against the top slat and watch my sister. When we were younger, she was one of the fastest barrel racers, competing in Wyoming most of the time and then taking her talents down to Texas. I don’t know why she stopped and took up teaching. I suppose it had something to do with Warner and the birth of Nolan.
Elizabeth finishes her run and brings her Quarter horse stallion to a trot. They come toward the fence and I hold out a hay cube for him. “I see you took Cadbury out this morning.”
“Yeah, figured she’d be easier than one of the stallions.”
“Probably true. How’s the arm?” Elizabeth dismounts and drops the reins. Her horse takes this as an open invitation to go roll in the mud. My sister mutters a string of curse words that would rival any sailor.
“I’ll hold the hose.” It’s my offer to help wash him later.