If Wishes Were Horses...

He shook his head. “You’re going back to bed. I’ll look after the kids and I’ll fix dinner.” She opened her mouth to respond, and he shook his head again. “Don’t argue with me, Abby.”

She closed her eyes and clasped her head, and he had to fight back the urge to pick her up and carry her up the stairs. That kind of touching was definitely out of bounds. Cody seemed to pick up on his uncle’s mood. Taking his mom by the hand, he led her toward the front hall. “Come on, Mom.”

Conner watched them leave the room, then he went outside on the deck, bracing both hands on the rail and bending his head, his jaw rigid. For the first time in his life, he experienced a bitter rage toward his brother. He should have had his ass kicked for leaving Abby in such a bloody mess.

“Are you mad at my mom?” came a small voice at his elbow. Giving himself a minute to get his anger under control, Conner turned his head and looked at Abby’s daughter. He wasn’t going to try any kind of dodge with this kid. His expression unsmiling, he shook his head. “No angel. I’m not mad at your mom. I’m mad at the person who upset your mom.”

Her head tipped to one side, Sarah watched him, considering his answer, and whether it was on the level.

Conner almost smiled. Both she and her brother had the Calhoun dark blue eyes and dark curly hair, but there was a whole lot of Abby in this one, especially in that pointed, determined little chin. As if deciding his answer was on the up-and-up, she announced, “Mom thaid we could have macaroni and cheese for dinner. Do you know how to make macaroni and cheese?” His mood lightening, Conner swung his niece into his arms, flipped her over and carried her into the house. He was rewarded with a squeal and a giggle.

“Of course I know how to make macaroni and cheese.”

Still giggling, Sarah grasped his pant legs. “You got your boots on, Uncle Conner. Mommy ith going to give you heck for having your boots on in the houth.”

He laughed and swung her over his shoulder. “And I suppose you’re going to tell her.”

She managed to get her arms around his neck. “Nope,” she said, squirming around to look him square in the eye, letting him know exactly what side his bread was buttered on. “Becauth you’re going to make me macaroni and cheese.”

Conner laughed and tipped her upside down again, letting her slide onto the kitchen table. This kid was going to pull out all the stops, that was for sure. He had to admit that his independent, strong-willed niece amused the hell out of him. But he didn’t kid himself either. Anyone taking on this kid was going to have to be quick off the mark to keep ahead of her. No doubt about it.

He fixed an early dinner for them and debated about waking Abby up, but decided against it. It was as if having someone there had allowed her to pull the plug on everything she’d been frantically juggling, and her body had simply shut down on her. She was still asleep when he put the kids to bed. And she was still out cold when he decided to turn in. He heard her get up in the middle of the night, and he forced himself to stay right where he was. He reminded himself that he had come here to help her, not make things worse.

In spite of the jumble of thoughts racing around in his head, he actually slept far better than he expected to. He awoke at sunrise, recalling the alarm clock he’d seen on Abby’s bedside table. Feeling slightly hungover, he pulled on a pair of jeans, then slipped down the hall and into Abby’s room, confiscating the clock. He’d be damned if he was going to let an alarm clock wake her.

He made the kids flapjacks for breakfast, managing to outmaneuver his niece when she tried to exploit his boots-in-the-house misdemeanor. And he didn’t even try to play referee when the two of them got into a pitched battle in the front hall over who got to go out the door first. He simply grabbed them both by the back of their school jackets and set them on the doorstep like a pair of boots. Obviously, by the stunned looks on their faces, their mother was more into negotiation and refereeing. Cody looked slightly peeved when the bus pulled away, but Sarah was dramatically blowing kisses from the back window. Conner couldn’t help but grin, wondering what nefarious schemes she was cooking up in that little head of hers.

He watched the bus disappear around the curve, then turned and went back into the house, his expression turning grim. It was time to take care of business. And it didn’t matter whether Abby liked it or not, he was taking over.

It took him no time to find the information he needed on the New York loan company—all he had to do was go through the efficiently organized desk in Abby’s office. With everything spread out before him, he made a list of things he had to deal with today, not the least of which was the branding.

With a fresh cup of coffee at his elbow, he used the phone in Abby’s office to handle the loan company, and he used his cell phone to keep up a running dialogue with Jake and Tanner at Cripple Creek. As crazy as it was, he could almost see the humor in it. It was the kind of situation a phone company would have snapped up for a TV commercial—a rancher directing the spring branding operation on one phone, while dealing with a financial institution in a different country on another.

And between specific instructions on the select group of calves he wanted left as bulls, he used Abby’s fax machine to fax his bank in Bolton his signature, authorizing his accounts manager to transfer the required funds to the loan company in New York. In less than an hour and a half, he had everything organized and settled. He figured with two phones and a fax, a person could darned near move mountains.

It was just before ten when Abby finally made an appearance. Conner was sitting at the kitchen table, another cup of coffee by his elbow, reading the newspaper when she stumbled in. She looked like hell—and he could tell she was on the verge of panic. He didn’t give that panic a chance to gather momentum. Before she could say anything, he held up his hand to halt her. “Kids on the bus, fed, teeth brushed, faces washed, socks matched.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “So take a load off, Mother. There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”

Normally, she would have nailed him with some sharp snippy comment, but she just stood there staring at him, the most awful look in her eyes. Then she covered her face with her hands and simply fell apart. Feeling as if he had inadvertently broadsided her somehow, Conner launched himself out of the chair, forgetting all his rules about keeping his distance.

He was just about to grab her when Abby stuck her arm out, as if blocking him. “Don’t,” she sobbed. “Don’t be nice to me, Conner. I can’t handle ‘nice’ right now.”

It was so Abby, that kind of comment, that he stopped dead in his tracks, not sure what in hell he should do. He had never felt so out of his depth in his whole life. She visibly pulled herself together and roughly dried her face on the baggy purple sweatshirt she was wearing. Then squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and marched over to the cupboard, yanked a mug off a shelf, slammed it on the counter and slopped coffee into it.

If she hadn’t looked so awful, and if she hadn’t damned near scared him half to death, he would have laughed. But this was no laughing matter. This woman was running on sheer grit and not a whole lot else, and he wasn’t going to stand around, waiting for her to unravel. He was going to start making some critical decisions here, whether she liked it or not.

Acid rolling around in his gut, he went over to the table, sat down and propped his feet up on another chair. Making sure his expression was a whole lot calmer than he felt, he slouched back and laced his hands across his chest. Giving himself a couple of seconds to get a grip, he squared his jaw and spoke. “Sit down, Abby.”

He had never used that abrupt tone on her—never—and her head came up and she looked at him as if he’d just said something foul and disgusting.

He fixed her with a steady stare. “You better sit down, Abby. This is going to take a while.”

She mustered some attitude and gave him a sour look, but she did sit down, plunking her mug on the table.

Not moving, Conner contemplated what to hit her with first. He figured he might as well start at the top. “I found the statements from the loan company in your desk—”

She started to get up, and he held up his hand, giving her a warning look. “You better get your butt in that chair, Abigail. Like I said, this is going to take a while.” She settled into her chair, a stunned look on her face, as if she didn’t know this person before her. Which was good. Conner wasn’t sure he knew this person either. He kept the same businesslike tone. “As I said, I found the statement from the loan company, and as of an hour and a half ago, the loan has been paid off. They are out of your hair, permanently.” He watched her too-thin face, and he caught a glimmer of acute relief in her eyes—as if a huge threat had been removed. He let his expression relax as he continued, his tone softer. “And I looked over your accounts, and the cold hard truth is that you need to unload this house. You can’t afford to keep it—it’s just going to drag you down deeper. So I have a plan.” Straightening, he dropped his feet to the floor, then leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. His expression determined, he fixed his gaze on hers. “I think we should call a real estate agent and list this place at a price that’s going to move it, but where you come out with no debt. Then I think we should get a moving company in here to pack everything up and haul it into storage.”

She tried to resurrect some indignation, her chin coming up. “You had no right to go through my finances, Conner. That was damned rude.”

Amused at her attempt to cut him down, he looked straight into her eyes. “No I didn’t, and yes I am.” He leaned back again, continuing with his plan. “After we get all that straightened away, I’m going to call the kids’ school, tell them there’s a family emergency, then I’m packing you all up and taking you back to Cripple Creek for the summer.”

That stark look was back in her eyes and her face was so pale it was scary. Obviously struggling, she clasped her hands between her legs and opened her mouth to speak. Conner knew she was going to set up a big argument. He never even gave her a chance to get started. “Don’t even think about arguing with me, Abby,” he said, his tone firm. “You’re coming home for the summer, and that’s that.”

She looked like a pathetic waif sitting there, the bones of her shoulders pronounced under the fleece fabric. Her hair was mostly out of the ponytail, and she just looked so damned forlorn. He would have given anything to have the right to go over there, pick her up and just hold her. But that was not his right—or his mission.

She never took her eyes off him, and his gut clenched when he realized she was trembling. He gave her a wry smile, his gaze fixed on her. “It’s a good plan, Abby,” he said softly. “You’ll have the whole summer to get it back together, and the kids will love it.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Then she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, two tears spilling out. “I would have made it through if you hadn’t showed up,” she whispered brokenly. “I would have.”

Conner laced his hands tighter together to keep from touching her. She was fighting her little fight, and he respected her for that. And he knew it just wasn’t in her to go down without a struggle. “I know you would have. But it’s going to make me feel a whole lot better if you let me help you over this hump.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him, a hollow look back in her eyes; then she took a deep breath, as if fortifying herself. “This is only a loan,” she said, trying to call up some of her usual stubbornness. “I’ll pay you back the money.”

Knowing exactly where she was going, Conner decided it was time for him to draw his own line in the sand. His gaze fixed on her, he leaned back and folded his arms. “I don’t think so, darlin’. That money is a gift to your kids, so you don’t have a whole hell of a lot to say about it.”

His response caught her unawares. Abby gave a huff of uneven laughter, and clasped her head. “Ah, God, don’t start getting cute, Conner. I can’t dance that fast right now.”

A twitch of amusement surfacing, he watched her try to recover, not giving her an inch. “I don’t dance, Abigail. You should know that by now. And I don’t want a big argument. All I want from you right now is complete compliance.”

She wasn’t so down and out that she couldn’t even scrape up a decent dirty look. “And you know where you can stuff your compliance, Calhoun.”

He grinned and rocked back in his chair. “It’s a good plan, Abigail.” His expression turning serious, he spoke again, his tone soft and persuasive. “Like I said, I’d love to have you guys there for the summer, and you know the kids would love every minute of it. And it would give you a chance to regroup.”

Clearly struggling with a whole bunch of emotions, she tipped her head back, wrestling with her choices. Conner watched her, his gut in a knot, waiting for her answer. He could almost feel her internal battle—her pride and independence struggling to override her common sense.

Finally she dropped her head and looked at him, a tiny glimmer of humor in her eyes. “Okay. It is a good plan. But you might want to rethink that part about getting stuck with us for the summer.”

Liking her spunk, he rocked his chair farther back. “Hey. If I can ride herd on a bunch of range-ornery cows year after year, I can sure as hell manage one skinny woman and two kids for a couple of months.”

Clasping her arms around her, she tipped her head to one side, her expression changing as she considered him. Finally she spoke, her voice very soft and very husky. “Did anyone ever tell you that you make one hell of a white knight, Conner Calhoun?”

Discomfited by her comment, he got up and started folding the paper. He didn’t want her thinking that. He wasn’t a white knight by a long shot. Now that he had gotten what he wanted, part of him felt like a thief in the night.

The next week was absolute chaos, and Conner continued to have concerns about Abby. He could tell she was running on empty, yet she continued to drive herself to the limit. And on top of overseeing all the sorting and packing, she made an appointment with a head-hunting firm to start a job search, even though she was going to be out of the city.

About midway through the week, she managed to dredge up enough spunk to argue with him again over his payment of the loan. He finally got his back up and told her that the money was going to go to the kids anyway, and they just got it a little early, and for her to just drop it. She didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day, but she did drop it. Finally. But even in the state she was in, she was amazing. He figured with her organizational skills, she could move a whole city if she had to.

One good thing was that the kids were ecstatic about spending the summer at Uncle Conner’s, and they would rattle on to anyone who would listen to them—the real estate agent, Abby’s nextdoor neighbor, Abby’s friend, Joanne, the guy from the moving company who came out to give them an estimate. Uncle Conner had promised them ponies, and Uncle Conner had a litter of newborn kittens in the barn, and he had dogs that herded cows. And Uncle Conner was going to take them fishing, and was going to let them sleep out on the veranda.

Uncle Conner began to wonder what he had let himself in for.

It took nine days to move the mountain—getting authorization for the kids’ early dismissal from school, household effects and Abby’s car in storage, mail forwarded, utilities canceled, bank notified. And by the time they boarded the plane for the flight to Calgary, Abby had that glassy-eyed look of a sleepwalker. But in spite of his concerns for her, Conner knew he had done the right thing. Hell, it was the only thing he could have done. He tried to convince himself that all she needed was a few weeks with no worries, good food, fresh country air and she would be as right as rain. But once she was settled in the window seat beside him, it was as if she simply let go. She was fast asleep before they’d even left the ground.

The skies in Calgary were bright and cloudless when they landed, and the kids were wound up like tops. Abby had slept the entire flight, and she was still half out of it when he left her with the luggage while he took the kids to pick up his truck from Park and Fly.

He figured she’d be back asleep before he got their suitcases loaded and the kids belted in the back seat of the extended cab, and he was right. Even the kids packed it in before they got out of the city, and he was left with nothing to keep his mind occupied—except his own thoughts. And those were very dangerous. He had been so busy playing big brother and Uncle Conner for the past few days, he had never even considered his own reality. And now here he was, heading home, and for two and a half months his world was going to be complete. And he was going to have to make the most of every second of that time. He had no illusions; that was going to be his allotment—two and a half months to last the rest of his life.

There had been changes since he’d left. The countryside was green from the several good rains and the warm weather. Every depression was full of water, and the ditches were sprinkled with bright patches of dandelions. God, it felt damned good to be back in these wide open spaces.

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