bread from the warm loaf.
“She called last night to tell me her niece and baby boy are doing fine. She’ll probably be back by the first of next week. She’s going to stay a few days longer than planned.”
“Well, if you need me to watch Mindy at the first of next week, that’ll be fine with me.”
“Yip-pee!” Mindy clapped and bounced in her chair. “We—could—cook—again.”
“That would be great,” Tory said, her regard resting on Slade, waiting for his answer to her offer.
“How can I say no, especially if I can get another dinner out of it?”
“Are you wrangling for another invitation to dinner?” Tory grinned, responding to the teasing light in his blue eyes.
“You’re a sharp lady.”
“I have my moments. What do you like to eat?”
“Anything that doesn’t move.”
“My, that leaves the door wide-open. Are you sure you don’t want to narrow it down some?”
“I’ll put myself in you two ladies’ hands. After all, you’re doing me a favor so I can’t be too demanding.”
The word demanding sent a chill down Tory’s spine. She clenched her fork and dropped her gaze to her half-empty plate. “Mindy and I will come up with something.”
“Our—uh—secret,” Mindy said with a giggle.
For the next few minutes while everyone finished their dinner, silence dominated the large kitchen except for the ticking of the clock over the desk by the phone. Mindy finished first, dragging the napkin across her face.
“Can I—swing—on the—tire?” the little girl asked Tory.
“Sure, if it’s okay with your father.”
“I’ll walk you out there.” Slade rose.
“No, Dad-dy—I can—do it—by my-self.” Mindy pushed to her feet and started for the back door.
Slade took a step toward his daughter.
“She’ll be all right. She went by herself to pick the flowers for the table. She wanted to surprise you with them.”
Slade peered at Tory, worry in his gaze. The door opened and closed, its sound emphasizing Mindy’s need for independence.
“I’m letting her do some things alone. It’s important to her.”
“But she still falls sometimes.”
“All children fall. In fact, earlier today she fell in the barn, but she picked herself up and continued with what she was doing.”
Slade stared out the large window that afforded him a good view of the oak tree with the tire hanging from it. He watched his daughter wiggle her body through the hole and lie on her stomach. He scrubbed his hands down his face and forced his attention away from Mindy. “Can I help you clean up?”
“I’ll get—” Tory saw Slade’s need to keep busy and said instead, “Sure. I’ll rinse. You put the dishes in the dishwasher.”
“I think I can manage that.”
While Tory put the leftover food in the refrigerator, Slade cleared the dirty dishes from the table and stacked them beside the sink. A couple of times his gaze strayed toward the window, his mouth pinched in a frown.
“It’s hard letting go.” Tory turned the water on to rinse off the worst of the food before handing the dish to Slade.
“Yes. Mindy’s been through her share of pain and then some. I don’t want her to have to suffer anymore.”
“All parents feel that way, but suffering is part of life. In fact, it probably makes us stronger people.” At least, that’s what I keep telling myself while going through my own ordeal, Tory thought.
“She’s eight years old. Enough is enough.”
“She’s done a wonderful job of bouncing back.”
“She still has a ways to go.”
“But she will make it. I predict this time next year you won’t be able to keep up with her and she’ll talk your ear off.”
“I look forward to that prediction coming true.” Slade closed the door to the dishwasher and leaned back on the counter, his arms folded over his chest. “You really think she’s doing okay?”
Tory smiled. “Yes. You should see her with the young riders. I have a class of three-, four-and five-year-olds and she’s great with them. Like a pro.”
“Speaking of classes, Mindy tells me about how hard you work to keep this operation up and running. You could use some help around here.”
“Don’t I know it. But that costs money, money I don’t have.”
“After Mrs. Watson returns and things settle down, I could take a look at your books and see if I can help in any way. Even though I’m not an accountant, I’ve taken a few classes in order to help me with my business.”
Tory lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Sure. With the stable, I’ve learned to accept help where given.” She wiped down the sink, then draped the washcloth over the edge. “I told Mindy I would talk to you about something that happened earlier today.”
“This doesn’t sound good.”
“She had a bad dream this afternoon while she was taking a nap. She told me she remembers her mother crying the last time she saw her.”
Tension whipped down Slade’s length, his expression unreadable.
“She said she didn’t get to go to the funeral for her mother.”
“She was still in the hospital.” The defensive tone in Slade’s voice spoke of the emotions he was holding in check.
“She didn’t get to say goodbye to her mother and I think that’s bothering her.”
His eyes became diamond hard and his jaw clenched.
Tory cleared her throat, its dryness making it difficult to speak. “I thought I would take her to her mother’s grave site and let her say goodbye, unless you would like to. I think she needs to for closure.”
A nerve in his cheek twitched. He walked toward the window that overlooked the backyard. “No. I will when everything settles down with Mrs. Watson.”
“I’ll go with you, if you want.”
“I—” Glancing outside, Slade went rigid, then spun toward the door and yanked it open.
Chapter Three
Slade rushed out the back door toward Mindy who lay on the ground by the tire swing. Tory quickly followed. As he approached, his daughter pushed herself to her knees and struggled to stand. All he saw was the scraped skin on her shin and blood beading around the wound. The heaviness in his chest made his breaths shorten.
He scooped up Mindy into his arms. “Are you all right, baby?”
She squirmed. “Dad-dy—oo-kay.”
Slade started for the house.
“No! Swing!” Mindy continued to wiggle until he put her down. She headed for the tire.
“But your leg—”
Tory touched his arm, stopping his progress toward his daughter. “She’ll be fine. I’ll take care of the scrape later.”
He swung his attention from his daughter to the petite woman who stood a foot from him. The physical contact was so brief that Slade wondered if Tory’s fingers had grazed him. Now her hands were laced together so tightly that her knuckles were white