Page 26 of Rainwater
She bent down and picked up a pad of paper that Corey hadn’t noticed near the post. “What’s that?”
“Just some scribbling.”
“Let me see.”
“It’s not really good, Corey,” Ellie said nervously and bit her lip.
“Come on, darlin’, let me see.”
She looked up at him with anxiety and trust. Anxiety, he realized, because she was nervous about his opinion. She cared what he thought.
He opened the pad and came face-to-face with one of his demons. He swallowed, his hands shaking. The drawing of Two Tone was good for a thirteen-year-old child. He stared at it so long that Ellie shifted nervously.
Memories flooded over him. Memories of his father explaining art to him exactly as he was about to do with Ellie. Guiding him, taking the time to see that he had done it well. Of course, Corey thought bitterly, those fleeting fond remembrances came before the vicious attack that had changed his father into a self-destructive abuser.
“So, what do you think?”
“It looks just like him. It’s good, Ellie. With practice, it could be outstanding.” He looked down at her, noting the pride on her face. He reached out and gently smoothed a strand of her hair off her face. “Do you have any drawing pencils?”
“Sure.” She stooped down and retrieved a pencil box. She pulled open the worn lid, took out a sharply pointed pencil and handed it to him.
He turned the pad so she could see. “His eyes aren’t quite right. Do you see?” He used the eraser out of her box. “Now look.” He sketched Two Tone’s eyes from memory.
“It was the arch. That’s what I was missing. Jeez, Corey, that’s great.”
“His snout is just a little bit shorter. That’s what’s throwing his face out of proportion. See?” She watched as he sketched, hanging on his every word as he described what he was doing.
Her cell chimed and Ellie’s head jerked up. “That’s probably Mary Lou. I’m supposed to be going to her house next week. I’d better get it.”
He smiled and handed her the pad. “We’ll talk later.”
She smiled at him and clutched the pad to her chest as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and answered. He walked away to give her privacy. Beautiful child. Beautiful mother. Damn stubborn, beautiful mother.
What was he going to do? He sauntered over to the fence of the corral that penned the little mare. He stood staring at her for a few moments. She had an elegant head and intelligent shining brown eyes that were wary and frightened. His guess would be Arabian mix. Definitely fast, he thought. He clicked his tongue and the animal’s head raised and studied him. He said nonsense words in a soft liquid voice and coaxed the sleek animal closer. With the language of his forefathers streaming from his lips, he ducked under the fence and stood still, his voice soothing.
The mare moved a little closer as if drawn to him against her will. He held out his hand. The horse’s nostrils flared and she whinnied. Then she turned and bolted to the other side of the paddock.
There was potential here. She had responded, if only briefly. He could work with her. It would take a couple of weeks, but he bet he could get a saddle on her and have her barrel racing within three weeks. Tops.
But you won’t be here for three weeks. You won’t be here another minute if you can help it.
There was a low grunt at his feet, and he looked down to find the little pig butting his ankles. Gingerly he crouched and scooped him up. Holding him like an infant, he scratched the exposed pink tummy. The little pig grunted again in pleasure and closed his eyes.
Corey’s face twisted and he clenched his jaw against a surge of emotion, raw and painful. God, he thought, he wanted to stay here. He wanted to stay here so badly. Sucking in a quick breath, he continued to cradle the pig and headed back to the barn to finish what he’d started.
When his chores were done, he borrowed Jennifer’s truck and drove into town. There was unfinished business that he needed to attend to. He trailed the man he was looking for to Jack’s Trap, a beer and pool hall on the outskirts of town. He pushed open the swinging doors and walked into the dim interior.
Tables and chairs were scattered around, some patrons sitting at tables and some at the bar. Corey spied Jay at the bar. He knew he was leaving, and he knew that he couldn’t possibly walk away and abandon Jennifer and Ellie without some kind of promise from Jay. Corey could feel the animosity in the air, but not one to back down from a challenge he sauntered up to the bar.
When Jay saw him, he swore softly and slipped off the stool. “What’s the matter, Butler, scared?” Corey said, sneering.
Jay bristled and backed up. “No.”
“You should be,” Corey said, his gaze cold and hard as his voice dropped a notch. “I’ve got a feeling that the only friends you have in this town are your brothers. In fact, I could probably take you outside right now and beat the hell out of you and no one would intervene.”
“That’s not true,” Jay paled and looked around anxiously. “I have a lot of friends.”
Corey grabbed the front of Jay’s shirt and changed the subject, moving his face a little closer to Jay’s, his body taut with overt male aggression. “What would it take for you to leave Jennifer alone?”
