“I understand, Art. You don’t have to do that job. No one on this job will hit you. You clear on that?”
He smiled a small smile. A small, tired, hungry, beaten-down smile. “Clear. Luke.”
Two hours later, Art had new clothes. Functional clothes. Loose blue jeans and soft denim shirts, new tighty-whities and clean socks, new tennis shoes—black, because his chores would get him dirty. He also had a toothbrush, paste, comb, disposable razor and shaving cream. Luke made him a hamburger for dinner, made sure he knew where everything was in the trailer. Then he observed the shaving to be sure Art handled the razor safely. “You’ll be okay here by yourself tonight?” he asked.
“I like it,” Art said. “I wished it was mine when I first saw it.”
“That right? You won’t run off, will you?”
“I’m helping you now, Luke.”
“I got you some bottled water and a few protein bars in case you get hungry before morning. If you have a problem, you know where I am. I’m in the house. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said, sitting on the small bed and circling his chubby knees with his arms, rocking.
“You need anything else, Art?”
“No.”
“See you first thing in the morning, then. We’ll have some breakfast together.”
“Okay. Thanks. Luke.”
Luke went back to his house. He was staying in tonight, in case Art needed anything, even though it meant not running into Shelby. He felt briefly disappointed; another fifteen or twenty minutes of feeling her pressed up against him, kissing him, that wouldn’t hurt. But now he had another project, one he hadn’t prepared himself for. If Art proved at all competent, it could turn out to be a good decision for both of them. If Art needed more assistance than Luke could provide, he could find him some help. But for now, at least he’d found a home for one of his mother’s many bathrobes.
A couple of days later, Shelby rode Chico into the clearing that fronted Luke’s cabins and stopped before getting too close. She had saddled and pulled Plenty along. The September afternoon was pleasant and sunny and she could see that Luke was crouched atop one of the cabins tearing off rotting shingles. Although it was cool enough for her to need a jacket, his broad sunburned bare back was facing her—it was a very enjoyable sight and she drank it in, silent. Then Plenty whinnied and Luke glanced over his shoulder. He stood and carefully turned toward her, balanced on the sloping roof. A smile found its way to her lips. What a sight he was, bare-chested, whiskers on his cheeks and chin, wearing jeans and a tool belt. She briefly wondered what it was about a tool belt… What was it she had said about the guy she had in mind? Clean-shaven, starched and pressed, polo shirt…？ Nah…
“Looks like you lost a rider,” he called down to her.
“I’m looking for a rider,” she said. “Want to take a break? See if you can sit a horse?”
“Is this a test of some kind?” he asked.
“No.” She laughed. “I’ll still like you if you fall off.”
He came down the ladder, grabbing his shirt off the lower rung and shrugging into it. It hung open and her eyes stayed riveted on that tool belt. His hands were on the buckle to remove it, but they didn’t move. When she lifted her eyes to his, she found him grinning. Caught. What the hell? she thought, smiling back.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her.
“I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. Are you avoiding me again?”
“I should, but I haven’t been. I’ve had stuff going on. Does the general know you’re doing this?” he asked.
“Of course. They’re his horses.”
“Aw, Shelby,” he said, sounding a little miserable. He took off the tool belt and buttoned up his shirt. “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘You be careful of that Black Hawk pilot. They have a reputation for abusing women.’”
He shoved his shirt into his pants. “God,” he moaned. “Why don’t you go away and leave me alone before you get me shot.”
She laughed. “He didn’t say that. He said, ‘Be sure to tell Luke that Plenty nips and bolts.’ So—Plenty, short for Plenty of Trouble, nips and bolts. You’ll have to pay attention.”
“Bolts?” he asked a little nervously.
“Not usually with a rider. But if you get off, keep the reins. She can be a handful when she acts up, but she’s a pretty good ride.”