As he went where Austin gestured, and stepped over the threshold into a slightly shabby little corner office, he thought he’d find an old coffee maker and perhaps some styrofoam cups and wrinkled packets of white sugar. What he was amazed to find was a brand new Keurig coffee maker with a single cup dispenser on one side, and a drip coffee pot on the other.
He knew the Keurig was brand new because the box it came in was resting on the desk and bright red and white wrapping paper was crumpled in the trash. When he heard a sound behind him, he turned to find Austin standing in the doorway, looking a tad chagrined.
“This is the present we chipped in to get for Leland,” said Austin. “He was supposed to be here with Jamie to help us celebrate Cinder’s arrival, but had stopped at his mom’s in Chugwater, and decided not to risk driving in the blizzard.” Austin laughed under his breath. “He told us to open it and enjoy it, like he already knew what it was. But he’s like that.”
“It smells amazing,” said Ty, rubbing his hands together to get the blood flowing, because while the middle of the barn was glowing and warm, the edges of it, like Leland’s office, were still a tad chilly.
“There’s real cups, too, and some half-n-half in the fridge, so help yourself.”
Austin waved at the desk, and Ty took a moment to absorb what he was seeing: a tray with a sugar bowl, spoons, and two small stacks of white mugs.
The rest of the desk was tidy, and bare, though rings on it indicated many cups of coffee enjoyed while working on the computer. A small calendar from a feed-and-grain store was tacked to the wall, turned to December. Another calendar from the same company lay unopened on the corner of the desk.
Austin went back to the excitement of the new pony, and Ty made himself a single cup of Newman’s Own French Roast, and took a deep breath as he told his body to relax and slow down a dang minute. He’d drink the coffee, then he’d be on his way.
He took his time doctoring the coffee with the sugar from the sugar bowl and the carton of half-n-half he found in the little fridge, tucked in amongst several dark bottles of what looked like root beer. Then he stood in the doorway and drank his coffee, feeling the warmth from the metal fire pit as he enjoyed the sight of Bea, on her toes, gently wiping around Cinders’ perked ears.
Bea was so slow and careful, in spite of the fact that she was practically vibrating with joy at her new pet, her new best friend. When Cinders tossed her head, perhaps to get a fly off her, Bea held still and waited, then whispered something into the pony’s ear, meant for only the pony to hear.
“Come out, young fellow,” said Bill. “Bring your coffee with you, it’s okay.”
Someone had gotten another folding chair and Bill gesturedto it, an expression on his face that seemed to say:We’ve been waiting for you.
Whether that was true or not, the feeling of being welcome made Ty’s throat feel thick.
He’d been on his own for what felt like so long, it was almost painful to remember, to realize, that there were people in the world who were not alone. And not only that, who might feel that his company, however brief, was worth having.
CHAPTER 4
Bea’s excitement over the pony had not dimmed from its initial silver shimmer before Austin announced that it was time to go to the dining hall for a bit of dinner.
“We need to put Cinders to bed,” said Clay. “She needs some down time so you don’t wear her out.”
“You can’t wear a horse out with love,” said Bea stoutly, her sweet face a little serious, even as it crumpled into a pout.
“You can’t, that’s true,” said Clay in calm agreement. “But we need to get some dinner before the snow gets too deep.”
“But I wanted to ride her.” Bea just about stamped her foot, and the pout deepened.
Ty had no experience with kids, none at all, so he wouldn’t have known what to do in a situation like this, or how to defuse the bomb that seemed about to go off.
He silently agreed that the pony had probably had enough for the moment, but he wouldn’t have had the heart to separate Bea from Cinders either. But Bill knew what to do.
“Honeybee,” he said to her. “This pony needs her rest and you need to give it to her. The needs of the horse come before the needs of the man. Remember?”
“Or the needs of a little girl,” said Bea, still scowling a bit, even as she pet Cinders’ neck. “But I did want to ride her.”
“In this snow?” asked Austin. “That doesn’t seem safe. I mean, is it?”
“Not as deep as it is,” said Clay as he put out the fire in the metal fire pit, which made the barn feel as chilly as Leland’s office. “We could tamp the snow down with one of the trucks, only they might get stuck, and the little tractor’s engine is on the fritz.”
Ty opened his mouth to mention, quite casually, that he was a whiz with engines, but perhaps the idea was to dissuade Bea from riding the pony in the snow, period, and that nobody would want his suggestion of him having a go at that engine. Which, probably being a two-stroke, probably, would be easy for him to fix.
Instead of saying anything, he slipped into the clean, dry barn coat that Clay held out for him, and gratefully wrapped a warm, gray scarf around his head. Following the others, he stepped out of the barn and into the blowy, snowy, deeply cold air, pausing as Clay secured the barn door, and trudged through the knee-deep snow to the main lodge, which he had passed on his way in.
Inside, only half the lights were turned on, so it was a little dim everywhere else but up front, near where the metal buffet tables were. A single table had dishes and silverware on it, and he stood by, watching as things were set up, feeling idle. Clay dashed into the kitchen to bring out a metal pan of lasagna, and Austin followed close behind with a covered plate of what must be garlic bread and a bowl of salad.
“It’s not very Christmasy,” said Bill as he sat down near one end of the table. “But there are fewer of us here, so it made sense to have this rather than turkey and fixings.”
