pay off the rest of Ben’s debts first and any money left over would be socked away for emergencies. “And if no one wants the horse after you’ve worked with him, what then?”
“Then I’ll pay you what I can and take the stud off your hands.”
Now she knew Matt Cartwright was crazy. His sober eyes studied her. Sweat tickled her scalp. And a red haze formed in her peripheral vision.
Pity. The damned cowboy felt sorry for her.
How dare he. How dare he act all chivalrous and cocky. She hadn’t asked for his sympathy and darned if she’d allow him to play the white knight and rescue her.
But what if he can prove Ben’s death was an accident? Dare she walk away from an opportunity to get out of debt sooner rather than ten years from now? “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.” His mouth flattened and his eyes flicked toward the burial plot. “Sorry. I meant no disrespect.”
“What happens if I waltz into the barn one morning and discover you’ve suffered the same fate as my husband?” The doctors had explained that the horse’s kick had crushed Ben’s ribcage and a splinter of rib bone had pierced his heart.
“Send my body back to Oklahoma and you can keep my mares, truck and rig for your trouble.” He grinned.
Ha. Ha.
“I’m a tie-down roper. I’ve worked with horses all my life. I know the difference between an animal who’s snapped and one who’s been spooked or mis-handled.” When Amy remained silent, he added, “SOS is too valuable a horse not to be given a second chance before he’s put down.”
Oh, shoot. She’d believed all that compassion had been for show, but obviously the man intended to do the right thing for the stud. She wondered if he was also concerned with doing the right thing for her and the girls. “I can’t afford feed and upkeep for the horses.”
“I’ll cover the costs for the animals and myself in exchange for hot showers and place to rest my head at night.”
Was it her imagination or had his eyes strayed to her breasts when he’d mentioned resting his head somewhere? “I’m a woman alone with two children, Mr. Cartwright.”
“I’ll give you a list of references.” He snapped his fingers. “As a matter of fact, call Jake Taylor over at the—”
“Gateway Ranch,” she finished for him.
“Taylor and I ate supper at Pearl’s last night.”
Amy trusted the ranch foreman. Jake Taylor had been a close friend of her grandfather. If Jake had any doubts about Cartwright’s character he’d tell her. “Excuse me a minute.” She headed inside. A sheet of paper with Jake’s cell number along with a dozen other neighbors’ numbers was taped to the wall by the kitchen phone. Jake answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Jake, it’s Amy.”
“Hello, Amy. Everythin’ okay out your way?”
“We’re all fine. Listen, I’m calling about Matt Cartwright.”
“The rodeo cowboy?”
“Yes. He said you two met at Pearl’s yesterday. He’s asking for a chance to work with Son of Sunshine.” She left out the part about Matt wanting to stash his bedroll in her house. “Can I trust him?”
“I’d bet my best pair of ridin’ gloves that he’s a man of his word. Ain’t nobody else willin’ to get near that horse.”
“I’m leaning toward giving him a shot,” she admitted.
“Tell ya what, missy. I’ll drop by soon and check on him.”
Reassured, Amy said, “Thanks, Jake.” After a brief goodbye she hung up.
An I-told-you-so grin greeted her when she stepped onto the porch. “Did I pass muster?”
“You passed.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She wished she possessed half the cowboy’s self-assuredness.
“Where should I stow my stuff?”
“The barn.”
His face paled.
“You want to work with Son of Sunshine you might as well bunk with him, too.” Amy swallowed a chuckle at his worried frown. “I’ll loan you a pillow and a blanket for the cot in the tack room.” She heard noises coming from the kitchen—the girls were up for the day. Halfway to the door, she stopped and issued a warning. “I wouldn’t bother unpacking, Mr.—”
“Matt.”
“I have a hunch you’ll be calling it quits before day’s end.”
“We’ll see about that, won’t we? Amy.”
Chapter Three
Amy was upstairs digging through the linen closet while the girls played in their bedroom when the sound of crunching gravel filtered through the open window at the end of the hall. He’s back. She cursed the ribbon of excitement that wound through her.
Earlier this morning after Matt had negotiated a week out of her, he’d fed and watered the horses, then had hopped into his truck and taken off. She shouldn’t fret about where he went or what he did, but she caught herself watching the clock and counting the darned minutes until his return.
Arms loaded with sheets, blankets and a pillow, she closed the closet door with her boot heel. Right then the doorbell rang. She hurried to the stairs before she caught herself and stopped. What was she doing? Did she want Matt to believe she was so desperate for male attention that she’d come running each time he crooked a finger, rang a bell or called her name? Good grief, if she didn’t watch herself around the cowboy she’d make a first-class fool out of herself a second time in her life.
Like her mother, Amy had fallen for a handsome face merely to discover the man lacked substance. How many times over the years had she heard her mother grumble that Amy’s father hadn’t been good at anything save dreaming? Amy and her mother had worked their fingers to the bone caring for the boarded animals and tackling the chores around the farm while Amy’s father piddled the days away writing down million-dollar ideas in a notebook that never left his side. Amy decided Matt could hold his horses—literally—and wait for her.
The doorbell rang again. “Mama,” Rose poked her head into the hallway. “Want me to see who’s here?”
“Thanks, honey. I’ll get it.” Amy took the stairs slowly—first one foot. Then the other. Next step. One foot, then the other. Next step. One foot, then the other…until she reached the landing. Deciding to set the sheets and blankets on the living-room couch she detoured through the dining room. By the time she’d refolded the linens, the cowboy had cooled his heels long enough.
Too long, evidently—Matt was nowhere in sight when she opened the door. Then she glanced down and gasped at the grocery bags arranged around the welcome mat. Lord, the man loved to eat. She wasn’t sure she had room in the fridge for all the food. One by one she hauled the bags inside and dug through them. Silly Nilly fruit chews? Cap’n Crunch cereal? Macaroni and cheese? Powdered donuts? SpaghettiOs? This wasn’t cowboy food. This was munchkin food.
The bags blurred before her eyes and a lump the size of a boulder formed in the middle of her throat. Matt had agreed to feed and water the horses and himself—not her and the girls, too. She swallowed hard, telling herself that his generosity had ulterior motive written all over it—he hoped to make it impossible for Amy to kick him off the place.
“Wow.” Rose stood in the doorway, Lily at her side sucking her thumb.
“No thumb, Lily.” Amy feared if her daughter didn’t kick the nasty habit, she’d end up needing braces and there wouldn’t be any money in the budget for orthodontic visits for years to come.
“Who