The Last Honest Woman by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

them.
    "I said I'd do this side."
    "Yeah, I appreciate the help." Abby tossed in a last forkful, then walked over to grasp the handles of the wheelbarrow.
    "Put that down."
    "It's pretty full. I'd just as soon make an extra trip as—"
    "Put the damn thing down." He sliced his pitchfork down in the hay and walked toward her. Anger—male anger. Though she hadn't been around it in a good many years, she still recognized it. Cautiously Abby lowered the cart and released the handles.
    "All right, it's down."
    "I'm not having you haul that thing while I'm around."
    "But!—"
    "You're not hauling twenty pounds of horse manure while I'm around." He grasped the handles himself. "Understand?"
    "Possibly." Calm, patient, Abby picked up her pitchfork again and leaned on it. "I can haul it all I want when you're not around?"
    "That's fine." He began to roll it down the sloping concrete.
    "That's silly," she said. He muttered something she couldn't quite catch. Shaking her head, she walked outside to begin leading the horses back.
    After the one outburst, they worked in silence. As Dylan finished up, Abby returned all the horses to their stalls and fed them. Then only the stallion remained.
    "I'll take him out." Abby held a halter behind her back and opened only the top half of the stall door first. "He's moody and unpredictable. Don't care much for being closed up, do you, Thunder?" she murmured, cautiously opening the bottom half and stepping inside. He danced back, eyeing her, but she continued to talk. "In the spring you can just graze and graze. And have your way with those two pretty mares." She slipped the halter around his neck, taking a firm hold as he swung his head in annoyance.
    "High-strung," Dylan commented.
    "To say the least. Better stand back. He likes to kick, and he isn't particular who."
    Taking her at her word, Dylan moved aside. Thunder started to rear, then subsided when Abby scolded him. Scolded him in much the same way, Dylan thought as she continued out of the barn, as he'd heard her scold her sons. He picked up his pitchfork and put his back into it. When Abby came back in, he was nearly done.
    "You don't seem to be a stranger to this sort of work." Because he'd shed his coat, she could see the muscles rippling along his forearms. He grunted an answer, but she didn't hear. She wondered what it would feel like to touch those arms when they were flexed with strength. It had been so long, so incredibly long since… She caught herself and stepped away to stroke one of the mares which was busily gobbling grain.
    "Did you raise horses?"
    "Cows." Dylan spread hay over the floor of the stall. "We had a dairy farm, but there were always a couple of horses around. I haven't mucked out a stall since I was sixteen."
    "Doesn't look like you've forgotten how."
    No, he hadn't forgotten how. And it wouldn't be wise to forget what he'd come for. Still, at the moment, he wanted to finish what he'd started. "Got a broom?"
    "It's Ben's job to sweep the barn." She took the pitchfork from him and set it on its hook. "I usually leave Thunder out in the paddock through the morning unless it's filthy out, so we're done for now. The least I can do after you saved me all this time is to fix you some fresh coffee."
    "All right." Then he'd get his tape recorder and his notebook and start doing what he'd come to do.
    "The kitchen was a mess," she recalled. "Did you have any trouble finding breakfast?"
    "Just coffee."
    She bent over to pick up her bucket. Her back ached, just a bit. "I guess I can give you some bacon and eggs. I can guarantee the eggs're fresh."
    He glanced into the bucket and saw a mound of light brown eggs. "You have chickens?"
    "Over there." She indicated the shed he'd seen her come out of earlier. "They're the boys' responsibility in the summer. I haven't the heart to make them trudge around before school, so—"
    He slipped. The ice was rapidly turning to slush. Next to him, Abby reached out, then slid herself.