Christmas Kisses with My Cowboy - Diana Palmer Page 0,9
quickly. “Now, let’s get something to eat. Do you have homework?”
Teddie was resigned to never getting a hug from her remaining parent. She and her dad had been close. He hugged her all the time when he was home. But her mother almost never touched her. It was the only thing that made living with her hard. Teddie couldn’t change it, so she just accepted it. “Yes. Math.” She groaned. “And history.”
“I used to love history.”
“I would, if we didn’t have to memorize so many dates. I mean, what does it matter if we don’t know the difference?”
“It would if you ever started writing books and you had George Washington helping the men fight in Vietnam,” Katy replied, tongue-in-cheek.
Teddie glowered at her and went to wash up for supper.
* * *
Saturday morning, Parker was at the door just after breakfast, while Katy was mending a tear in Teddie’s jeans.
She went to the door and laughed. “You’re early. I’m sorry, I meant to . . . Teddie’s watching cartoons. Should I get her?”
“Not yet. I just need to do some measuring,” he added with a smile. “For the steps.”
“Oh, yes. Of course.”
She went out onto the porch with him while he marked wood with a pencil and wrote figures on a piece of paper. He handed it to her. “That’s what I’ll need, to do the repairs.”
It wasn’t even a lot of money, she thought with some relief. The vet and the farrier had made inroads into her budget. “I’ll phone the hardware store and tell them to let you get what you need. Are you going right now?”
“I am,” he said. “Shouldn’t take too long. Then I can show Teddie how to saddle Bartholomew.”
“The vet said he should be all right to let out by today,” she began.
“And you’re worried,” he guessed. He smiled. “Don’t be. We’ll keep him in the stall or the corral while we work with him. What did the vet say?”
“Not a lot. He gave him an antibiotic injection and stitched up his cuts. He gave me the name of a farrier, too, and I had him come out and clean Bart’s hooves and replace his horseshoes.”
“You’re having to go to a lot of expense,” he said.
“It’s not so much,” she replied. “And it’s nice to see Teddie interested in something besides TV. She’s been sad for so long. She and her dad were really close. It was hard for her, just having him in the service overseas. And after what happened . . . well, she wasn’t looking forward to moving here. She’s been very depressed.”
“Not surprising,” he said. “I still miss my mother, and she’s been gone for years. I lost her when I was twelve. Another family on the rez took me in and adopted me. We have good people there.”
She cocked her head and looked at him. “Which one of your parents was white?”
“My father.” He closed up. “I’ll run to the hardware and pick this stuff up, then I’ll come back and fix the steps. Don’t bother Teddie right now,” he added, and forced a smile. “Won’t be long.”
He went to the truck and drove away, leaving Katy guilt-ridden. His father must have been bad to him, she decided, because that look on his face had been disturbing. She was sorry she’d brought up something that had hurt him. It had been a casual remark, the sort you’d make to just an acquaintance. But it had really dug into Parker. Considering how little emotion escaped that face, it was telling that he reacted so quickly to the remark. She’d have to be careful not to bring up the past.
She recalled what the farrier had said about his language and she just shook her head. He hadn’t said a single bad word around her or Teddie. Maybe he only cursed around people he didn’t like. He was very good-looking, and very athletic. She smiled to herself. It was much too early to be thinking about men in her life. She’d tried to explain that to the attorney back home, but he hadn’t listened. He’d invited himself out to see them next month, but he was in for a surprise if he thought he was staying in the house with Katy and her daughter. She didn’t know him well enough, or like him well enough, for that sort of familiarity.
It was disturbing to think of herself with another man right now. Maybe, in time . . . but it still wouldn’t be that