Read Online Secret of the Wolf by Cynthia Garner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cynthia Garner
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insisted on givin’ him that sappy name.”
“Don’t you listen to him,” she crooned to the burro. “Sugarplum is a perfectly acceptable name for a sweet boy like you.” She glanced at Dante, mischief dancing in her dark eyes. “Besides, who’s the softie who adopted him from a Bureau of Land Management roundup three years ago?”
“Only because you wouldn’t stop pestering me about it.”
“Uh-huh.” She let Sugarplum nuzzle her palm. “Look at this face. How could anyone resist it?”
Dante finished up with Ben and draped the towel over the top railing of the stall. He patted the gelding on the side of the neck and closed the gate behind him. Handing his sister the curry comb, he said, “Why don’t you groom this refugee from the glue factory while I take care of Stud over there?”
Sugarplum hee-hawed again.
“See? He wants it.” Dante walked over to the equipment storage area and grabbed another curry. As he went into the quarter horse’s stall, he asked, “How can you say no?”
She stuck her tongue out at him but went into the stall with the little burro. “Okay, sweetie. Let’s get you clean.”
Two hours later Dante put all the grooming equipment back in storage while Lily gave each of the horses a few slices of apple she’d had in a plastic baggie tucked away in one of her pockets. She gave Sugarplum a carrot and another scratch on his forehead. As she walked toward Dante, her shoe caught on a rough patch of cement and she stumbled.
Dante rushed forward, stopping at her glare. “What? I’m supposed to let you fall?”
She shot him a look. “Of course not. But even if I did fall, I’m not some fragile little thing you need to keep wrapped in cotton.” As she walked toward him she muttered, “I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can.” He kept his voice gentle. He knew how hard she’d found it to have to rely on him while she went through chemo and then radiation treatments for her breast cancer. But the stress of a divorce right after her diagnosis had sent her into a tailspin. Dante understood that her ill-humor was not directed at him so much as at her circumstances. “But having family means you don’t have to.”
She crossed her arms and stared at him in silence for a few seconds, then muttered, “You know, it’s really hard to be irritated at you when you act so sweet.”
He grimaced. “Now you’re just bein’ mean.”
Lily laughed and punched him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go fix some lunch.” She looped her arm through his and they went back into the house.
She took a clean dish towel from the drawer and ran it under the cold water, then held it to the nape of her neck. Dante tried to hide his continuing concern, but as she took celery from the fridge and started chopping it for the salad she insisted he eat at least once a day, she kept glancing at him and shaking her head. Finally, she turned toward him and propped one hand on her hip. “Out with it.”
He eyed the knife she held in her right hand. “What?”
“Just say it. Whatever it is you’re thinkin’, just get it out so we can talk about it.”
He cleared his throat and went back to forming hamburger patties. “And what makes you think I have anything to say?”
She waved the knife. “Don’t be cute, Dante. I can see it in your eyes.”
He tried to deflect the conversation. “It’s hard for me not to be cute.” He gave her a wink.
Lily rolled her eyes. “Oh, get over yourself already.” She turned back to the celery and started chopping again, her movements slow but steady.
Dante had to wonder if her knife strokes were controlled so he wouldn’t see her hands shake with fatigue. He rubbed the back of his neck. God, he hated this. He was helpless against cancer—he couldn’t intimidate it, he couldn’t punch it in the nose. Unlike her worthless ex-husband.
He smiled at the memory of the last time he’d seen Tony Fabrizio. The other man had been lying on the
“Don’t you listen to him,” she crooned to the burro. “Sugarplum is a perfectly acceptable name for a sweet boy like you.” She glanced at Dante, mischief dancing in her dark eyes. “Besides, who’s the softie who adopted him from a Bureau of Land Management roundup three years ago?”
“Only because you wouldn’t stop pestering me about it.”
“Uh-huh.” She let Sugarplum nuzzle her palm. “Look at this face. How could anyone resist it?”
Dante finished up with Ben and draped the towel over the top railing of the stall. He patted the gelding on the side of the neck and closed the gate behind him. Handing his sister the curry comb, he said, “Why don’t you groom this refugee from the glue factory while I take care of Stud over there?”
Sugarplum hee-hawed again.
“See? He wants it.” Dante walked over to the equipment storage area and grabbed another curry. As he went into the quarter horse’s stall, he asked, “How can you say no?”
She stuck her tongue out at him but went into the stall with the little burro. “Okay, sweetie. Let’s get you clean.”
Two hours later Dante put all the grooming equipment back in storage while Lily gave each of the horses a few slices of apple she’d had in a plastic baggie tucked away in one of her pockets. She gave Sugarplum a carrot and another scratch on his forehead. As she walked toward Dante, her shoe caught on a rough patch of cement and she stumbled.
Dante rushed forward, stopping at her glare. “What? I’m supposed to let you fall?”
She shot him a look. “Of course not. But even if I did fall, I’m not some fragile little thing you need to keep wrapped in cotton.” As she walked toward him she muttered, “I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can.” He kept his voice gentle. He knew how hard she’d found it to have to rely on him while she went through chemo and then radiation treatments for her breast cancer. But the stress of a divorce right after her diagnosis had sent her into a tailspin. Dante understood that her ill-humor was not directed at him so much as at her circumstances. “But having family means you don’t have to.”
She crossed her arms and stared at him in silence for a few seconds, then muttered, “You know, it’s really hard to be irritated at you when you act so sweet.”
He grimaced. “Now you’re just bein’ mean.”
Lily laughed and punched him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go fix some lunch.” She looped her arm through his and they went back into the house.
She took a clean dish towel from the drawer and ran it under the cold water, then held it to the nape of her neck. Dante tried to hide his continuing concern, but as she took celery from the fridge and started chopping it for the salad she insisted he eat at least once a day, she kept glancing at him and shaking her head. Finally, she turned toward him and propped one hand on her hip. “Out with it.”
He eyed the knife she held in her right hand. “What?”
“Just say it. Whatever it is you’re thinkin’, just get it out so we can talk about it.”
He cleared his throat and went back to forming hamburger patties. “And what makes you think I have anything to say?”
She waved the knife. “Don’t be cute, Dante. I can see it in your eyes.”
He tried to deflect the conversation. “It’s hard for me not to be cute.” He gave her a wink.
Lily rolled her eyes. “Oh, get over yourself already.” She turned back to the celery and started chopping again, her movements slow but steady.
Dante had to wonder if her knife strokes were controlled so he wouldn’t see her hands shake with fatigue. He rubbed the back of his neck. God, he hated this. He was helpless against cancer—he couldn’t intimidate it, he couldn’t punch it in the nose. Unlike her worthless ex-husband.
He smiled at the memory of the last time he’d seen Tony Fabrizio. The other man had been lying on the
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