Chapter Five
“I think you need to figure out how to thank Riley,” Jackson said over their Sunday morning waffles.
Jeremy, with a bit of maple syrup smeared on his chin, looked at his father thoughtfully. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. But how?”
Miles noticed the boy then looked at Nic, as if for help. It warmed him to see how the two had bonded. There was utter trust in Jeremy’s expression when he looked at her, and he didn’t think he was wrong about the love in this woman his friend had found when she looked back at him.
“Well,” Nic said, with a very thoughtful expression on her face, “you’re very good at drawing, maybe you could draw her something.”
Jeremy’s expression turned just as thoughtful. “Like what?”
“We’ll have to figure that out,” Jackson said, wiping his own chin.
Miles took his last bite, pondering how much nicer this was than running down to the corner bistro and grabbing something to eat on the go.
And thought again about the first thing he’d noticed upon reaching Last Stand—that it wasn’t quite Christmas yet here.
Unlike in L.A. where it had been, according to retailers, Christmas since the day after Halloween and Thanksgiving didn’t exist outside the grocery stores.
“You think up the cool stuff. What should I draw?”
Miles blinked, both at the boy’s assessment and the fact that he’d asked him at all. This wasn’t really his bailiwick, but a thought did occur to him.
“What about a drawing of Pie and the new guy together? Like they were this morning, when you let them out into the corral. Already friends.”
Jeremy lit up. “Yeah!”
He got up from the table and ran toward the steep stairs against the back wall, headed to the loft that was his domain.
Miles knew it had originally been just a ladder, but when Maverick had become part of the family, they’d changed it to some stairs the dog could navigate so he could stay with his beloved boy.
He couldn’t help smiling at Jeremy’s enthusiasm.
He’d gone down to the barn with the boy when they’d first gotten up, and he’d been both amused and impressed with how well the about to turn eight-year-old had handled the ponies.
As if he were an old hand, or had been around them all his short life.
He supposed it was like that when you found something you loved.
It had been for him, ever since he’d become part of bringing stories he loved to the world at large.
And the two ponies had indeed looked as if they’d been together much longer than twenty hours. He wondered how much of it was simply having another their own size around, instead of only the big ones.
He wondered idly what the exact break point was between pony and horse. He’d have to look that up. Not because he needed to know, but because that’s the way his brain worked.
Or you could just ask the woman who knows darn near everything there is to know about the beasts…
“Hey, Nic, when does a pony become a horse? How big, I mean.”
“Depends who you ask,” she answered. “But generally the top-out is fourteen and a half hands. Unless you’re going by the Equestrian Sports Federation standards, which allows you an extra half for shoes as long as the pony itself without shoes isn’t over 14.
2. Or if you’re in Australia, where it’s fourteen hands, period.
Of course if you’re showing, it gets trickier, because a lot of the time they divide them into small, medium and large, with specific measurement limits for each one. ”
He blinked. Drew back slightly. Jackson laughed as he got up from the table. “Never ask Nic about horses unless you want an encyclopedic answer.”
Miles smiled at that and gave his friend’s fiancée a rueful look. “I’ll keep that in mind. Just remember that I had to think to recall a hand is four inches.”
“But you did,” Nic said with an easy smile back at him. “And that’s what counts.”
He got up himself to help clear the table.
He’d seen Jeremy doing homework there, and guessed this was probably his spot for drawing, too.
And then Jeremy was back, Maverick still at his heels, with a big pad of paper that looked designed for sketching, and a box of colored pencils.
Not crayons, he noticed, and wondered just how good the kid was.
They left the boy to it, adjourning to the living room.
Jackson asked after a few of the people they’d been working with on Stonewall.
Crew, Miles noticed. They were the ones he was worried about.
And Miles didn’t think it was just because he’d once been one of them.
Jackson had always seen them as the reason it all worked, the reason it all came together.
And when he’d made it to the top, as it were, he never forgot them.
Other stars at his level would be seen hanging out between shots with the other actors, the director, or visiting media.
Jackson was usually back with the wranglers and construction guys, and if Miles needed to talk to him he’d had to learn that that was where to look for him.
The thought made him smile. He knew Jackson had appreciated his vague answers to that visiting media when they asked where he was, eager to corner him for an interview.
Answers which were usually something like, “Oh, he’s here somewhere.
Feel free to look around, just don’t spook the horses.
” Since most of that media had no idea on earth what would spook a horse, they generally kept a long distance from the animals.
Which meant they were a long distance from Jackson. At least, far enough to overlook the guy working just like the other crew members, wearing his old crew ball cap.
“What are you smiling about?”
He looked up to see Jackson watching him curiously. “Just remembering that time those entertainment reporters were clustered around griping that they couldn’t find you, and that you were being difficult, avoiding them, and didn’t you know they could make or break you…”
Jackson laughed. “And all the while…”
“You were a few yards away from them, grooming Buck.”
“And I noticed you didn’t point that out.”
Miles shrugged. “I might have had to let them on set, but I didn’t have to help them find you. Besides,” he added, with a big grin this time, “what you did was much better.”
He would never, ever forget the look on those “make or break you” faces when Jackson had straightened up from cleaning out Buck’s left front hoof, pulled off the baseball cap, and turning to look at them had said, “I think that might work both ways.”
They got a good laugh out of the memory. Then Nic got up, leaned in to give Jackson a parting kiss, and was off to a first-time training session with a new client.
“She’s keeping busy,” he said as she left.
“Very,” Jackson agreed. “It’s a good thing her mom is an inveterate organizer and is doing the wedding plans. Then again—” that famous Jackson Thorpe grin flashed “—I think that may be why Nic’s keeping so busy.”
He looked so damned happy it made Miles’s stomach knot a little. Not in envy, Jackson was too good a friend, but in…sadness for the hole in his own life.
Mopiness. Downright mopiness, idiot.
He knew he had a life many truly would envy, success in a difficult—okay, beyond difficult—business.
He was the walking example of three times is the charm.
His first success was pure luck, the second was enough to draw some powerful eyes, and then Stonewall blew the doors off.
Now he had people coming to him instead of the other way around, yet he wasn’t so famous he had no privacy.
He’d seen enough of that with Jackson, and the stars of his other two big successes.
It was his own fault his personal life was so…
empty. He’d quickly gotten bored of the hit-and-run dalliances his colleagues seemed to thrive on, because he knew from the beginning that it wasn’t really him those women had been drawn to, but his success and what he could potentially do for them.
And he’d reached the perhaps jaded assessment that the more they were willing to chase after him, the less talent they likely had for the actual job they were after.
He didn’t like feeling that way, for more reasons than one, but there it was.
It was odd, really, the difference coming here had made for Jackson and Jeremy, and for Tucker, too. Was it this place, or was it just escaping the sometimes distasteful environs they’d worked and lived in?
“—I’m sure Miles will do that for you.”
He blinked, and tuned back in. “What am I doing?”
“Helping Jeremy out,” Jackson said. “I’ve got to meet with some donors in half an hour, so I can’t do it.”
“Oh. Of course.” He looked at the boy, who was working hard on that drawing. “I can’t draw worth beans, so what am I doing?”
Jeremy glanced up. “You’re gonna drive me to the big ranch.”
“Oh,” he repeated, feeling a bit silly. He glanced at Jackson. “I thought this ranch was pretty big.”
“Bigger now that the Baylors have bought back the acreage they had to sell a few years back.”
Miles remembered what Jeremy had said about that. He studied his friend for a moment. “You have something to do with them being able to do that?”
Jackson shrugged. “More Riley’s doing than me. She’s the one who was willing to sell it back.”
Miles’s brow furrowed. “She’s the one who bought it?”
Jackson nodded. “Mostly to help the Baylors out. They were in a tough spot, and the land adjoined hers, so she made an offer. She even had written into the agreement that they would always have first call to buy it back.”
“Wow. That’s pretty…”
“Nice? Decent? Generous? Kind?” Jackson suggested with a grin. “Yeah, people here are like that. No matter how rough or tight ranch life gets—and believe me it does these days—Last Standers stand together. Get used to it, buddy.”
“Don’t know if I could,” Miles said dryly. “That’s pretty different.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jackson was still grinning as he got to his feet. “I’m going to head down there, make sure it’s all prettied up for the big-money guys.”
“Those new photographs you had done should help.”
Jackson nodded. “Kaitlyn Rafferty is really good.”
Miles nodded; the addition of the large prints on the wall of the office of Thorpe’s Therapy Horses had been a great idea. The close-ups of the children, both when they had arrived, sad and broken, next to the one when they were mounted up, wearing big smiles, was stunning.
“I’d say she’s worth her weight in gold when it comes to capturing the essence of things.”
“Spoken like a true man of vision,” Jackson said, in his most imperious voice.
Miles’s mouth quirked. “Anybody who isn’t moved by those is already dead inside.”
His gaze flicked to Jeremy, who had emerged from a long, dark tunnel of grief into a life where he allowed himself to be happy again, with the help of his father, Nic, and a little pony named Pie.
He looked back at Jackson, who was looking at him. “Yeah,” his friend said, as if he’d heard Miles’s thoughts.
“Good job, my friend.” He meant every word.
They stepped out onto the front porch, lingering over a final cup of coffee as Jeremy worked. Miles looked out over the hills that rolled out before them to the horizon. It felt like another country, compared to the concrete and steel he’d left behind. It might as well be another planet.
“It brings me peace,” Jackson said quietly.
“I can see why,” Miles said, meaning it with an intensity that surprised him.
They had just gone back in for Jackson to rinse out his mug before leaving when they heard Jeremy exclaim, “I’m done!” as he slapped down the blue pencil he’d been using. They walked over to the table.
“Looks great,” Jackson said, while Miles just stared at the indeed well-done drawing of the two ponies, one black and white, one brown and white, nosing at each other in the big corral. There were a couple of crooked things, but the two that were the centerpiece were surprisingly well drawn.
“Wow. I didn’t know you were that good,” he said to Jeremy, whose smile widened.
“He is, isn’t he?” Jackson said. He reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, then nodded over his shoulder.
“Ranch truck keys are on the rack there by the door. Just make a right out of this driveway, and a right into the next entrance, which is about three miles down. It’s a long driveway, but you’ll see the main house once you’re past the big curve. ”
Miles nodded, and Jackson was gone before he had the chance to do the mental math. The driveway was three miles down the road, but the ranches bordered each other?
He thought of the pilot and his comment about how more than half their flight would be over Texas. And realized that despite his previous trips here, he didn’t really have any concept of the size of the place. He guessed there was big, and then there was Texas big.
It wasn’t until they were in the truck, Jeremy handling the drawing, that he thought to wonder if this was going to be a drop-off thing, or if they were going to end up face-to-face with Riley Garrett.
He wasn’t at all sure which to hope for.