Tim was studying him closely now, looking for the catch, and Matt knew better than to try to play innocent. It might work on some guys, but not Tim Bailey.
“Why?”
“It’s not to get the horse back,” Matt said. “Although I want that horse back more than you’ll ever know.” This was harder than he’d thought it’d be, facing off with Tim like this. The guy was stubborn and proud, as was his daughter—although Matt hadn’t figured that out until recently.
He shifted his weight, rocking back slightly. “I want to help Liv. Like she helped me.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah. I know. Feels like a century.”
“Feels like yesterday to me.”
Matt cocked his head at the man’s unguarded admission, spoken so softly he almost didn’t hear it. But now the walls were back up, as if the admission had slipped out of the older man without permission and Tim was going to make damned certain it never happened again.
“Liv took a look at my knee today. Professionally,” Matt added. “She comped the visit. When I tried to write a check, Etta tore it up.”
Tim’s lips twitched slightly, so Matt knew he’d amused him. Hell, it had been kind of funny, but as a guy who didn’t like being indebted, it hadn’t seemed funny at the time.
“So I owe her for more than calculus. It looks like her hands are full now with a job, so she can’t help you out. I can.”
Tim would have loved to have said he didn’t need anyone’s help—Matt knew, because it was exactly what he would have wanted to say under the same circumstances—but the condition of the ranch made it impossible to tell that particular lie.
“Your parents have a fine ranch you could be helping on.”
“They don’t need help.”
Tim let out a breath. Matt wanted to say there was nothing wrong with needing help, but kept his mouth shut. Finally, Tim gave one short nod.
“That back fence needs tightening.”
“I can do that.” Matt tipped his hat back slightly. “I can do it tomorrow morning.” Tim still didn’t appear thrilled, but for some reason he’d caved. “I have a kid staying with me. Willa’s boy. Do you care if he comes along?”
“Why would I?”
Matt shrugged. “Just thought I’d clear it with you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AFTER HER LAST cranky patient, who’d actually managed to take her mind off from Matt for a few minutes, Liv was running late. She’d finally convinced the guy that the pain was inevitable and would only get worse if he didn’t endure it now, but it had taken fifteen minutes longer than he’d been scheduled for.
Even though she’d hated to bother him, Liv called Tim as she headed out and asked him to hook up the trailer and load Beckett so that all she had to do was to change clothes and hit the road.
Sure enough, the truck and trailer were ready when she got there, Beckett saddled and loaded. She dashed into the house to find it filled with the rich scent of pasta sauce.
“I thawed one of the casseroles Walter’s wife sent over last year when I sprained my wrist. Do you have time to eat?”
Liv shook her head. “I’ll grab an energy bar and eat when I get home.”
She pulled into Andie’s yard at 5:35, loaded Beckett’s good buddy Mike, and the four of them headed off for the arena, arriving just as the other team members were gathering at Linda’s truck.
“Oh. My,” Liv said, staring at the group as she pulled the keys out of the ignition. “What is that thing she’s holding up?”
“One of our new shirts,” Andie said mildly. “Rhinestone Rough Riders like spangles, thus the name.”
“And fringe.”
“Yes, indeed,” Andie said, getting out of the truck.
A few minutes later Liv had a neatly folded bundle of clothing—a red glittery shirt with long white fringe, sparkly black pants, a giant rhinestone belt buckle to go on the belt of her choice, a rhinestone tiara for her hat and white fringed gloves. A smile quivered on her lips, but she didn’t dare let it break out. Her teammates appeared all agog over the new outfits, even Margo, whom she’d thought was more of a wool-and-corduroy type person.
“How often do you get a chance to indulge a dress-up fantasy in public?” Andie asked as they carried their bundles back to the truck.
“Halloween?” Liv said.
“What did the Billings gals wear?”
“Dark jeans, white shirts and red neckerchiefs.”
“Pfft.” Andie smirked as she stowed her clothes in the rear seat of the