Declan Hoyt had never entertained any delusions of grandeur. He had never wanted to be famous or even have an inordinate amount of money in his bank account. All he’d ever wanted was to be a successful horse breeder. It had been a dream of his as far back as he could remember. In his heart, he didn’t think he’d been asking for that much.
But, he had learned, the funny thing about plans was that no matter how simple they seemed to be on the outset, they had a way of either getting complicated or going sideways.
His certainly had.
It wasn’t all that long after he began pursuing his career that Declan discovered being a small-time horse breeder didn’t begin to bring in enough money to pay the bills. So he’d begun to board horses for other people. When that still hadn’t brought in enough money, he’d branched out and started giving riding lessons as well.
Normally a very frugal man, Declan had found himself in need of even more extra money after his father died unexpectedly a year ago and his mother, Ruth, just fell to pieces over the loss. Distraught, it had taken his mother practically the whole year to pull herself together.
Not about to abandon his mother, Declan had come to her rescue by taking her in to live with him.
That simple act had helped Ruth come around. Slowly but surely, she’d found that she was able to cope with the unending sea of loneliness that had threatened to completely engulf her in the beginning. Wanting to show her gratitude—as well as remain useful—Ruth had taken over the cooking as well as the maintenance of the farmhouse for Declan.
It had taken almost a year, but things were beginning to look as if they were finally settling down for Declan and his mother.
But fate had a way of throwing the proverbial monkey wrench into the works—or at least it felt that way to Declan. In his particular case, the monkey wrench came in the form of his younger sister Peggy. Even at her best, Peggy had never been very emotionally stable and, as luck would have it, his sister hadn’t married the model of stability either. The problems had come for both of them when Peggy’d started self-medicating her depression and anxiety with a variety of substances that had only made things worse. Two years and one baby girl later, Peggy’s husband had decided that he’d had enough of his wife’s drinking as well as her doing drugs, so he’d taken off.
Unfortunately, it seemed that the stress brought upon by her husband’s abandonment had only made Peggy’s issues that much more pronounced. Despite her family’s offers to help, her answer had been to soothe her pain with more alcohol and harder drugs.
Periodically, Peggy would declare her desire to be a better mother to her little one. To that end, she would dutifully check herself into some rehab center or other. During those times—and there were more than a few—Peggy would leave her daughter, Shannon, in her parents’ care.
That was all well and good when there’d been two of them to share the burden of watching over and taking care of Shannon. But after Ruth’s husband died, Ruth had found she didn’t have the wherewithal to put up with a now fourteen-year-old distressed teenager.
Besides, Ruth no longer had a home where the girl could go. She was now living in Declan’s house, which meant that Shannon had to go there.
And just like that, Declan found his once very simple life become extremely complicated. Between caring for his mother and his teenaged niece as well as all the extra jobs he took on the side, the six-foot-two, thirty-eight-year-old horse breeder/farmer had his hands more than full.
To say the least, he did not take the news of this latest invasion of his home front very well.
“There’s nobody else she can stay with?” Declan wanted to know when his mother had dropped this latest bombshell into his life. That was when he discovered that, in trouble again, his sister’d had a choice of going into a ninety-day rehab program or serving actual jail time.
Peggy had naturally chosen the rehab program, which meant that Shannon had to come stay with her grandmother—and that meant with him.
“You know there isn’t,” Ruth told her son in an apologetic tone. “Shannon either stays here with you—with us,” his mother amended, “or Children’s Services will take her to live at one of their facilities. You don’t want that, do you?” Ruth asked, looking at her son for confirmation. The idea of something like that happening to her granddaughter was clearly unbearable.
“No,” Declan reluctantly agreed with a sigh, knowing his mother wouldn’t give up pressing him until she heard the answer she wanted to hear, “we don’t.” For now, he kept his concern that he wouldn’t be able to support his niece financially or emotionally to himself. His mother didn’t need any more on her shoulders. Somehow, he’d find a way to deal with it.
A couple of days later, Declan began to feel that maybe he had given his mother the wrong answer. He found that the fourteen-year-old was less than exactly a ray of sunshine when he had to put up with the teenager on a regular, full-time basis.
“What’s wrong with your internet reception?” Shannon wanted to know when he walked into the living room that morning. Her fingers were all but pounding out her irritation on her less than receptive cell phone. She had had her face buried in the electronic device since she’d arrived.
“Good morning to you too,” Declan replied sardonically. Then, seeing that his displeasure had completely gone over his niece’s head, he said, “The internet seems to have a mind of its own,” he told her, giving her an annoyed look. “You should know what that’s like.” Truth be told, Declan wasn’t very proficient with the internet himself, and paid someone in town to maintain only the most basic website for his business because he had to. He was doing his best to learn how, because, at bottom, he believed in being a hands-on person.
Shannon’s brows drew together as she scowled at him. “A mind of its own,” she echoed. “Does that mean I don’t have to do those dumb chores you gave me?” the teenager wanted to know, referring to the list her uncle had given her last night.
“No, it does not,” he informed her evenly. He found that she made him lose his temper even faster than Peggy had when she was that age—but, as with Peggy, he knew that she was taunting him deliberately to get a reaction. He refused to rise to the bait—or back down. Declan had given his niece a week to settle in, but enough was enough. As far as he was concerned, the vacation was over. Besides, she got moodier every day she sat around with nothing to do. She needed to get out of her head, get some fresh air, and spend a few minutes being productive. It would be good for her, whether she’d admit it or not. “Everyone has to pull their own weight around here.”
“Maybe I don’t want to pull my own weight,” Shannon told him, tossing her head defiantly and sending her red hair flying over her shoulder.
“You like to eat, don’t you?” Declan pointedly asked.
“Yes,” Shannon replied, drawing the word out as if she thought it was a trick question.
“Then you’ll do the chores,” he informed her flatly. “It’s as simple as that. And I want them done by the time I get back home.”
Shannon looked as if she was ready to challenge her uncle’s order. “But—”
“The terms are nonnegotiable,” Declan informed his niece crisply, shutting her down. And then he turned toward his mother. “See you later, Mom,” he told the frail older woman just before he brushed his lips against her cheek.
“Go easy on her, dear,” his mother whispered into his ear.
But he had no intentions of doing that. “That’s the problem, Mom,” he whispered back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Shannon leaning in their direction, trying to hear what they were saying. “Peggy let her do anything she wanted to because my sister was too busy drowning her own sorrows. Well, that’s over now. Shannon needs to grow up to be a responsible person, and I want to help her get there. It’s up to us to show her that she can do more with her life than follow her mother’s example.”
“Yes,” Ruth agreed hesitantly. “But not all in one day, dear.”
But Declan disagreed. “It’s got to start sometime, Mom,” he informed his mother.
Grabbing his customary baseball cap from the coatrack by the door, he pulled it on and left the house.
Declan definitely was not happy about having someone else to be responsible for when he already had so much on his plate, he thought as he made his way toward his ten-year-old Jeep, but he intended to do his best by the girl, which included making her follow a few rules for her own good.
In his opinion, his parents should have done that with Peggy. But they hadn’t.
Well, it might be too late to get his sister out of her destructive cycle, but he wouldn’t let Shannon fall into one, too. Shannon might not think of him in glowing terms, but eventually she would come to realize that he had only the best of intentions when it came to her upbringing and her welfare.
Right now, Declan thought as he drove his Jeep toward the area where he stabled the horses he boarded, he had another tenderfoot coming in for a riding lesson. Probably so she could live out her fantasy of being Annie Oakley.
Oh well, the horse breeder shrugged philosophically, he did need the money, so there was no point in even thinking about being picky. The best he could hope for was that the woman wouldn’t wind up talking his ear off.
When the call had come in making the appointment for the lessons, he hadn’t recognized the voice on the phone or the student’s name. It had turned out to be some woman who’d wanted to give her sister-in-law the lessons as a thank-you gift.
In other words, he thought, he was being saddled with a novice.
But then, he wasn’t looking to make a lifelong friend, Declan thought. He just wanted someone who wouldn’t put too many demands on him.
At least, he considered, he could hope for that.
Getting out of his Jeep, Declan glanced at his watch. He had a little over an hour to spare before he had to move on to the next chore on his list.
Going into the stable, he took a moment then selected a horse for the woman. Marigold was a gentle mare who could have almost doubled for a rocking horse, he mused as he quickly saddled the mare.
Finished, he went on to saddle his own horse, a dignified-looking black stallion named Midnight he had helped to deliver four years ago. Declan was extremely proud of the animal, having gone on to train the horse himself. He was willing to bet there wasn’t a finer piece of horseflesh anywhere, but then, he thought with a rare smile, he was hardly unbiased.
“C’mon, boy, we’ve got a tenderfoot to put up with,” he said to the stallion.
Midnight pawed the ground, as if indicating that he understood. At least, that was the way that Declan chose to interpret the movement. Except for his mother, the horse breeder felt that he had more in common with horses than with people. They were certainly easier to understand.
Declan led the two horses out into the adjacent corral, hoping that this “student” knew enough to show up on time and that she’d actually listen to him rather than bend his ear with endless chatter. He had no interest in learning the woman’s life story. Not when he was already dealing with too much noise and conversation.
His mother loved to talk—and she needed an audience. His father had had a gift for tuning out what he didn’t want to hear, Declan thought with a smile.
Too bad he hadn’t passed that talent on to him, the breeder mused. There were times he would have sorely appreciated that talent.
And now, of course, there was Shannon, too. Another voice to add to the echo chamber that existed in his head. It made him long for the days when he got hours of silence as he rode overseeing his horses.
Maybe someday he could do that again, Declan reflected wistfully as he led the two horses behind him.
The breeder stopped abruptly, surprised to see a woman he didn’t recognize standing at the perimeter of the corral. As their eyes met, she looked slightly uneasy. He noticed that hers were a vivid shade of sky blue.
For a moment, he came very close to losing himself in them.
From his experience in giving lessons to other first-time, adult riders, he had just assumed she would be a matronly, slightly out-of-shape woman wearing fancy designer jeans and maybe a shirt that was one size too tight on her.
Instead, his new pupil’s outfit looked casual and comfortable. She wasn’t out to impress, which he viewed as a plus for her side. The woman had long blond hair that she had put up in a careless, messy bun with strands coming out all over the place.
No, she definitely wasn’t looking to impress, he thought.
It took him a moment to suppress the curve that threatened to overtake his lips. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a prima donna who was there hoping to garner covert appreciative looks and trying to make an impression on him.
He had no time for women like that. Or vain people in general, he thought. He had too much on his plate to put up with that.
But the woman was rather attractive, he decided. Not that that meant anything one way or another, Declan thought.
“Are you Declan Hoyt?” Josie asked when the tall, broad-shouldered and exceedingly muscular-looking man continued to say nothing even as he regarded her.
“Yeah,” Declan finally answered, his monotone indicating that there was nothing more forthcoming.
Maybe her “talkative” instructor was waiting for her name, Josie reasoned.
“I’m Josie Whitaker. I think my sister-in-law called you about giving me a few riding lessons,” she said.
“She did,” Declan replied.
“It was an early birthday gift,” she told him. “From her and my brother,” Josie added.
“Uh-huh.”
Well, he certainly couldn’t be accused of talking her ear off, Josie thought.
“Well, I’m here,” she told him in as cheerful a voice as she could muster. She felt as if the cowboy was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to give her these lessons. There was no other way for her to interpret his behavior.
“I can see that,” Declan answered.
The silence felt almost deafening. Desperate to fill the air with something other than the sound of her charismatic riding teacher’s breathing, Josie turned her attention to the black stallion he was holding.
“Aren’t you a beauty?” she said, reaching out to pet the stallion’s muzzle.
“Midnight’s my horse,” Declan told her, pulling the stallion back.
Startled, it took her a moment to gather herself. “I wasn’t trying to take him,” she told her less than warm and fuzzy riding instructor. “I just wanted to pet him,” she explained. Her eyes shifted toward the stallion. “You wouldn’t mind my petting you, would you, boy?” she asked, slowly holding her hand up to the horse, wrist side up so that he could sniff her and see for himself that she posed no threat.
Declan was about to chastise her to get back, but he never got the chance. He was surprised to observe that his one-man-only stallion seemed to be intrigued by this woman who, from what he had been told, knew absolutely nothing about horses.
Midnight stood regarding this new student as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her.
That probably makes two of us, boy, Declan silently told his horse.
“Marigold, here, is your ride,” he told Josie, nodding at the mare as he held out her reins.
“Hi, Marigold,” Josie said, smiling warmly at the mare. “Pleased to meet you.”
She was an odd one, Declan thought. But at least she didn’t come across as bossy or privileged. He supposed he should take what he could get.
“Ever been on a horse?” he asked her, although he felt he knew the answer to that.
“Does a merry-go-round horse count?” she asked with a genial smile.
Who the hell would count a wooden horse as a substitute for the real thing? “No,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
“Then no,” she answered with a wide, engaging grin. “I haven’t.”
“Terrific,” he muttered, his expression indicating that it was anything but that.
This, Josie decided, was going to be a long, silent riding lesson. A very long, silent lesson.