Free Dances with Wolf by Farrah Taylor

acquaintances. No chance for gossip. “Why don ’ t we talk about it in the car?” she said.
    Vickers cleared his throat. “So, folks, all I ask is that you keep a journal of Bullet’s progress. If it works, and I have no doubt that it will, it ’ ll be a testimony to aqua-therapy I can use to persuade some of my more stubborn clients. And Abby, by the way, nice intuition with the hock. Great work.” He winked at her as he reached across the desk to shake both their hands. She couldn’t believe a local vet could be this progressive. What had just happened? Had hell frozen over?

    She turned toward Wolf as the truck and trailer rolled up the lake toward Bigfork. He seemed relaxed, even happy, as he turned the radio down and hummed tunelessly to himself, glancing now and then at Abby.
    In one short and surprising day, the tables had turned. No longer was she waiting for a sign from Wolf that he remembered what they ’ d once meant to each other. He was actually looking to her for help. He had changed, for sure. The question was, how much? The road spooled like a dark ribbon before them. Anything seemed possible.
    When they reached the turnoff to the Macready ranch, Wolf broke the peaceful silence. “I know I can ’ t expect you to give up all your clients when you ’ re just getting started here, but could you really come down for a few nights to help with Bullet? It would mean a lot to me.” He stopped the truck and leaned toward her. “Actually, I don ’ t know if I can do it without you.”
    Take it easy, Abby , she counseled herself after imagining sleeping under the same roof as Wolf. Just speak, one word at a time.
    “My schedule is crazy this week. I can’t spend the night. But if we head out first thing in the morning, I can give you a solid four-hour block of training. That’ll be enough to get you started. After that, we can check in by phone. That’s about as much time as I can make.”
    He was silent as he let his hands rest on the steering wheel. Abby could feel her heart pound, almost audibly, as she waited for his response.
    He smiled at her. “I’ll take what I can get.”
    …
    “Abby?” She smelled her mom ’ s Mexican chicken stew before she reached the kitchen—the Anaheim chilis, the cumin, the simmering chicken broth. Her mother stood at the stove, rested her hands on her broad hips, and gave Abby the once-over.
    “That was no ‘quick run’ down to Polson, Abby. You have a flat tire or something?”
    “Nope. Actually, it was a real education, working with Dr. Vickers. He ’ s definitely one of the top vets around. His clinic ’ s as nice as the cardio unit at Kalispell General.”
    “Is that so?” Her mom retied her apron and continued to look at her. “So it was a hundred percent business?”
    “A hundred percent. Vickers greeted me as a colleague. I think I might even get some referrals from him.”
    “And Wolf? Was it a hundred percent business with him?” Her mom turned back to the stove.
    Abby forced herself to smile. “He trusts me with his favorite horse. That ’ s what this is about.”
    “If you say so.” Her mom arched a cynical eyebrow.
    Abby dropped the fake smile. “Mom, I told you this is strictly business once already.”
    “Yes.” Her mom wiped her hands on her apron and faced Abby. “You did.”
    “Then, why do you have to keep pushing?”
    Her mother sighed. “Because I don’t trust him, that’s why.”
    “Well, you’ll have to trust me , then, because Dr. Vickers suggested that I drive over to Choteau to work with Bullet at Wolf ’ s ranch. ”
    Her mom’s eyes popped. “ Dr. Vickers’s suggestion?”
    “Yep. Although he suggested we work with Bullet for a few days, and I told Wolf I only had one.”
    “Okay, then.” Her mom washed her hands under the sink, then turned to face Abby. “I do trust you. Enough out of me on the subject.”
    I couldn’t have said it better myself, Abby thought. She was tired of her parents treating