Tennessee Reunion Page 16

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “We’ll see,” Virginia said. “Your father is not getting any younger. I had some problems with my mother, but we made up before she died, thankfully. Not a day goes by I don’t miss her, wish I could hear her laugh or smell her corn bread baking. Don’t wait too long to make up with your daddy. I promise you, Vince honey, you will regret it if you don’t.”

  “I figure I’ve got a while yet. That lady at the nursing home we’re going to see tomorrow is a hundred. I’m expecting Daddy to celebrate his nine-hundredth like Methuselah. He’ll outlive all of us.”

  “Running a cattle operation that size in the present economy must be terribly stressful on his health.”

  Vince leaned back and stretched his booted legs in front of him. “My brother Cody runs the cattle operation and my brother Joshua handles the business end. With Daddy’s constant interference, of course. Thor has very little stress in his life, but he’s a powerful carrier. Like Typhoid Mary. She didn’t come down with the disease, but she gave it to everyone she met.”

  Victoria laughed and coughed when her coffee went down the wrong way. “Your father’s given name is actually Thor? In the South?” She picked up the carafe and lifted her eyebrows at Vince.

  He shook his head. “No more, thanks, even if it is decaf.”

  “How on earth did your people wind up in Mississippi?” Victoria asked as she topped off her own cup.

  “I had a Norwegian emigrant ancestor who served in the civil war to procure citizenship. After Appomattox he decided he preferred Mississippi summers to Minnesota winters, so he moved his family down here.”

  “A real carpetbagger.”

  “You got it. People were poor, land was cheap. Some folks still consider us foreigners, even though we’ve been here since 1867.” He set his cup down and stood. “I really need to get home. I’ve got to wrangle Tom Thumb tomorrow, remember?”

  “See you at twelve thirty to load Tom,” Victoria said. “Thank you for getting the horses in this evening.”

  “Least I could do. I let ’em out.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “OFF YOU GET, little guy,” Anne said. Tom poked his head out the van’s open tailgate, took a tentative step down the ramp, then tiptoed the rest of the way to the ground. He was still not completely at ease wearing his cut-back sneakers. When he stood on the concrete of the parking lot outside the nursing home, he lifted and shook each foot in turn before trusting himself to stand on it. He gave Anne a reproachful stare, but walked forward when she held one of his favorite apple treats too far in front of his nose for him to reach it by stretching his neck.

  “He’ll be okay in a second,” Anne said. She moved away from the van, clasping the reins to her side. He gave up shaking his feet and walked beside her.

  “First bridge crossed,” Vince said as he cut the engine and headed back to the ramp. “Good boy, Tom.”

  The wide glass door into the nursing home opened before they reached it, and a small dapper man in a starched seersucker suit came forward with outstretched hands.

  “Welcome, welcome. I’m Beau Caldwell. I manage our assisted living. This will be such a treat for Mrs. Hamilton and the others. They’re waiting in the day room. I told them we had a special visitor coming, but not who it is.” He reached out and brushed Tom’s neck with his fingertips, then drew back as though he’d been scalded.

  Tom butted his hand.

  “Oh,” said Beau. “I’ve never seen a horse this small before. I figured I shouldn’t touch him without permission. We’ve had companion dogs visit—our clients love them—but this is our first companion horse. He’s not very big, is he?”

  “Big enough to do the job,” Vince said.

  “I’m sure, I’m sure. Are you ready? Shall we go?” He kept wary eyes on Tom as though expecting him to blow up into a Clydesdale. He held the door until Tom and the others had passed through, then stood in front of it as if to keep them from running back out before Tom had fulfilled his commitment to the residents.

  Anne cut her eyes at Vince and held up crossed fingers. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”

  “It’s only your first test. Remember you’ve got over three months before Becca goes to school and six months minimum to have him ready to try out as a real helper horse for a total stranger.”

  She was afraid that Tom would be nervous and misbehave when he heard the chatter of voices and clink of china and silver coming from the dayroom, so she concentrated on keeping her own nerves under control. He’d take his cue from what he felt from her. So long as she stayed calm, he’d stay calm. At least, that was the idea.

  They waited outside in the hall while the manager went in to the day room, shushed everyone and announced the arrival of their special guest.

  He flung open the doors as if he were pulling a rabbit out of a hat and ushered them through. The moment the patients saw Tom, they all began to chatter and applaud. Loudly. Anne tightened her hold on Tom.

  He stood stock-still and leaned even closer to Anne. His ears were waving like semaphores, but he didn’t back up or attempt to escape. He was curious, but not frightened.

  “Where’s the birthday girl?” Vince asked Mr. Caldwell.

  A tiny lady in a wheelchair that nearly swallowed her lifted an arthritic hand from the blanket that covered her knees. She had shrunk to child-size—almost small enough to ride Tom. She clapped softly while she whispered, “Oh, oh, oh.”

  Tom had never seen a wheelchair, let alone been close to one, but when Anne walked him to it, he came with her willingly. He reached the old lady and did what he always did when he could manage it—he laid his head on the blanket that covered her lap and gazed up at her as though she were the fount of all treats.

  She stroked Tom’s cheek. He sighed and blinked at her.

  Anne blinked to keep from crying as she saw the sheer joy in Mrs. Hamilton’s eyes.

  “My goodness, he’s so little,” Mrs. Hamilton said. There was nothing childlike about her voice. It was raspy, possibly from a lifetime of smoking cigarettes. If so, she’d still managed to make it to the century mark. Her body might be failing, but her voice and spirit were still strong.

  “Put a saddle on you, horse,” she said, “and I swear I could ride you right on out of here and back home, small as you are.” She giggled. “When I was a girl I had a Shetland pony not much bigger than this. Rode him to and from school, rain or snow, almost lived on him. After we married, my husband bought me a chestnut walking horse, but I never forgot little Posey.” Tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks, but not in sadness.

  “We never forget our first pony,” Anne said. “My Brownie is still teaching kids to ride and is as ornery as ever.”

  Mrs. Caldwell chortled. “Did he ever throw you off?”

  “Did he ever. After a while I lost count of the times he dumped me. If I tried to ride him into a creek, even a deep puddle, he’d walk us out into the middle, lie down and roll. I learned to jump off him at the first sign he intended to go down.”

  The entire room had gone quiet as the others listened to their conversation.

  “Gertrude, don’t keep him to yourself,” called a male voice from somewhere in the room. “We all want to pet him.”

  “Oh, pooh, I’m the one who’s a hundred years old. I get to do whatever I like.” She hugged Tom as though she couldn’t bear to stop touching him.

  “You can’t hog the horse,” said a female voice from the other side of the room. “Bring him on over here and let me scratch his ears. He got a name?”

  “Tom Thumb,” Vince said. “We’ll get around to everybody.”

  “Promise?” A third voice. They all began to speak at once to demand a turn petting Tom. He seemed content to give them their chance.

  Vince raised his eyebrows at Anne. She nodded an
d took up the slack on Tom’s harness.

  The three of them began a royal procession through the room, not only from resident to resident, but to nurses orderlies, and the rest of the assembled staff.

  “Look at his little shoes,” one woman cooed. “How does he keep them on?”

  “They lace up the front and have hook-and-loop closure around the back,” Anne told her.

  “He likes them,” another lady said. “Does he have different pairs to match different halters?”

  “Zelda, don’t be a soppy idiot,” said a blousy woman who stood well back from contact with Tom’s furry body. “I, for one, think it’s appalling to coerce these poor dumb animals into wearing painful shoes and tiring themselves out working for people.” She made people sound like a swear word. “They can’t possibly enjoy it. They should all be running free in the grass.”

  “Uh-oh,” Vince whispered.

  “What can they do anyway? Dogs are smarter. A horse can’t protect you from gangs. It won’t take a bullet for you.”

  Anne glanced at Vince. He seemed to be swelling. At six-four, he was a powerful-looking man, but when he drew himself up and tightened those muscles, he was downright scary. “I assure you, madam, he is happy and well taken care of.”

  “Piffle,” said the woman. “Let him go, bet he’ll run away.”

  “Lucy,” said a man close to her, “shut your mean mouth. Nobody wants to hear a thing you got to say. Look at this boy. Why, you can tell he’s having a whee of a time, aren’t you, son?” He scratched along Tom’s back. The little horse shivered with pleasure. “You ain’t ruinin’ this party like you always try to do, Lucy. Shut up or I’ll tell Beau Caldwell to shut you up.”

  Where is the manager anyway? Anne wondered.

  She laid her hand on Vince’s arm and shook her head. “Leave it,” she whispered. “Let’s move on.”

  Vince’s jaw remained set.

  Anne felt certain he would snap back if Lucy kept on.

  As he opened his mouth to reply, Tom stamped on his instep. Hard.

  Anne took hold of Tom’s reins and moved to another group of adoring fans. Massaging his instep, Vince limped after them.

  The rest of the visit went smoothly after Lucy stormed out of the room. Several people applauded.

  After a long visit that included carrots for Tom and carrot cake for Anne and Vince, Anne thanked everyone, gave Mrs. Hamilton a final opportunity to hug Tom, then said their farewells.

  “Will you come back again when it’s not my birthday?” Mrs. Hamilton asked. “I may not be here, but everyone else will be.”

  Anne caught Vince’s eye.

  “We’ll be back,” Anne said and waved to the room.

  Everyone began to applaud. Tom wriggled, but stayed put.

  “I think he’s about reached his limit,” Vince whispered. “Potty break before we leave?”

  “If Beau can provide a patch of grass.”

  Beau filed in beside them. “There’s a place under the trees.” He chuckled. “All manure happily accepted. My rosebushes love it.”

  She stood with Tom in the shade of an aged oak and said, “Go time,” in a firm voice. Tom regarded her as though she had grown a second head, then he began to paw.

  “He’s still got on his sneakers,” Anne said to Vince in a quiet voice. “He won’t know what to do.”

  Tom lifted his tail, gave her an oh, yeah? glance and took care of business.

  Anne pulled off his sneakers and filled his water bucket from the gallon jugs she carried. She waited while he drank. Then she and Vince walked him up the ramp and shut the doors on him.

  “We did it!” Anne raised a palm for a high five.

  “No, you did.” Vince grasped her hand, swept her up and kissed her hard.

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. His lips were hot and demanding against her mouth.

  She relished the taste of him, the feel of his muscular body against her, the scent of him. One kiss with him brought her alive in a way no other kiss—no other man—had ever done. She didn’t want to let him go. It was as though Mrs. Hamilton had blessed them with a bit of her joy,

  Vince lifted Anne off her feet and swung her around. She held on and buried her face against his shoulder, and when he let her feet touch the ground again, she was looking past his shoulder to where a bemused Mr. Caldwell stood smiling at them.

  “Oh— Not here,” she whispered.

  From the back of the van came an importunate neigh. “Tom’s impatient,” she said. “We need to go.”

  They said their goodbyes and promised to come back. When they were finally on the road back to Martin’s, Anne said with a casualness she did not feel, “The timing of Tom’s stomp on your instep when that woman was so mean has to be a coincidence. Horses can’t read minds.”

  “Coincidence or not, my foot hurts like the devil.” Vince reached behind him and scratched Tom’s forehead. “Didn’t want me making a social gaffe, did you, Tom, my man. You knew I was mad, didn’t you?”

  “What was that woman’s problem?” Anne asked.

  “There are some people who would rather see an animal suffer than interfere with Mother Nature. Personally, I have found Mother Nature to be low on compassion and dead set against innovation. Companion horses are a relatively new concept, and therefore they’re against nature. There’s somebody like that woman in every crowd. She’ll probably post a nasty email to all her friends tonight saying what evil people we are because he’s not running free where the coyotes can eat him. Lucky Tom stopped me. I would have said something impolite and we might have ruined the party. Thanks to Tom’s sharp hoof, we didn’t.”

  “So are you beginning to think what I’m trying to do might be worthwhile?”

  “Lady, I never doubted it was a worthwhile concept. I just didn’t think you had the skills to do it.”

  “How well did you neuter your first cat, Doctor? Or stitch up your first cut on a horse’s rump? Or put back your first prolapsed uterus in a cow? Or even clean out your first hoof abscess? You learned how, you practiced, then you learned some more. That’s what I’m doing. Learning and practicing. Six months from now I’ll know a bunch more and have better skills. And both the people and the horses will benefit. Count on it.” She wrapped her arms across her chest and glared out the window.

  Vince dropped a hand on her thigh. “This afternoon you did a great job. Maybe you’ll convince me yet.”

  “But don’t count on it?” She laughed.

  After another few miles, he cleared his throat. He’d learned that his best choice was to act as though their previous conversation had never happened. Nor had that kiss.

  “You and Tom made that lady very happy,” he said quietly. “You made her feel young again. You should be proud, and I should keep my mouth shut.”

  “You said what you believe. Eventually, I’ll convert you to my way of thinking.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  She turned in her seat so that she could see his profile. “If I can find someplace in Williamston to practice, I need to teach Tom and Molly to walk up stairs and ride escalators,” Anne said. “We won’t be so limited in the places we visit.”

  He relaxed. This was the closest thing Anne offered to an olive branch. “Call Sonny Prather. He knows every piece of real estate in Williamston County and beyond. Now that you’ve broken the ice, Calvin can go with you instead of me. I haven’t been holding up my end at the clinic. Barbara needs me.”

  Anne felt a sudden pang. So much for that kiss. Was she the only one whose hands had been shaking? That was no simple congratulatory kiss—not for her, at any rate. But he was ignoring the entire episode. They were talking as though there had been no kiss.

  Would he back off? Leave her to Calvin’s care? She’d gotten used to seeing him at odd hours of the day and n
early every evening. He was coming to see the horses, of course, but the result was the same. She would miss him. Miss more kisses, miss his strong arms embracing her.

  Just miss more.

  The cell phone plugged into the van’s console rang. “My phone. ’Scuse me. Gotta take it.” He pulled to the side of the road before answering. “Peterson. Hi, Barbara.” He listened, then said, “Anne’s with me. We’re on our way back with Tom. Yeah, went great. Tom was his usual charming self.” He listened again. “How far? That close.” He turned to Anne. “Horse with a bad cut a couple of miles from here. Barbara’s busy and can’t go for a while. Can you ride along? You can graze Tom while I stitch.”

  “How bad?”

  “No idea. Probably won’t take too long, but you never know.”

  “Of course, we’ll ride with you. Tom won’t mind.”

  The call came from a shiny new and very ritzy boarding barn with elegant stables, a regulation-sized dressage arena and a separate indoor jumping arena set with freshly painted jumps. A glassed-in viewing area for clients had been built above the arenas. “Talk about posh,” she said.

  Anne had seen the trainer coming toward them at several horse shows with his students, but had never ridden against him and did not really know him.

  Vince didn’t seem to know him personally, either, but they all quickly introduced themselves.

  “I have a VSE in the back of the van, Mr. Able,” Anne said. “May I walk him around while Vince stitches your horse?”

  “You’re that girl’s been working with Victoria, aren’t you? Sure. I’ve seen VSEs in carriage classes at shows. You make yourself at home. There’s an empty turnout paddock behind the barn with a water trough in it. Take him in there and let him loose. Come on, Vince. Glad you came when I called your office.”

  “Lucky Anne and I were already close. The sooner we treat the injury, the better.”

  “When he didn’t come up with the others for the evening meal, chow hound that he is, I knew something was wrong. I sent one of my boys into the pasture to find him. He did, all right—standing in the shadows under one of those big pin oaks and pouring blood out of a gash on his left flank.”