Free Suspicions of the Heart by Rita Hestand

that know
about building a house, especially adobe? Do you realize how much
work it would entail? Not to mention time. It's ridiculous to
contemplate."
    "Is it?" Joe eyed his
friend.
    "Well, of…"
    "'Bout as crazy as me bringing
Longhorns back to Texas?" he ventured. "Give her the loan, George.
I'll co-sign the note."
    "You? My God, man, are you crazy, too?"
George protested, running a reckless hand through his tawny hair.
Wide-set blue eyes fixed on Joe purposely as he continued to
object. "Why, do you realize if she didn't make it, you'd have to
mortgage your place? That would put you in debt for some time, my
friend. You might never recover your losses, especially since
you're taking quite a gamble on those Longhorns. I can't let you do
this. As your banker I must advise you to--"
    "I'm not asking you to let me. I'm
telling you I want to do it," Joe said firmly, his jaw jutting out
in that determined angle.
    "What possible reason could warrant
such an insane action?" Then, as though it dawned on him, George
reassessed the offer. "Oh, so, that's it, huh?"
    Not given to histrionics, Joe replied
sanguinely, "No, that's not how it is, George. Look, her old man
gave me a break once. Let's just say I'm repaying the favor.
Besides, where would this country be if people didn't help each
other?"
    George stared at him as though he'd
lost his mind. And his face screwed up when Joe finished his
statement.
    "Just fix it for her, and don't tell
her how it was done."
    "Don't tell her? But why not? She's
bound to wonder how?"
    "Tell her you reconsidered."
    "But why keep it a secret?"
    Joe smiled, pleased with his decision.
"Because someone, much like yourself, once helped my
great-grandfather down the line. I'd like to think I'm repaying
that favor. Yes, sir, my grandpappy can rest assured the debt is
paid."
    "You've no personal interest in this?"
George scrutinized his friend.
    "I didn't say that. I just said my
personal interests are another matter. I knew her father. He didn't
like me much. Thought I was trying to steal his land. But I saw the
man a few weeks before he died and I over-heard him telling a
friend he wanted to leave her something when he died. The man was a
bum, George, but he loved his daughter. Besides," he paused with a
smile, "I'm curious to see what she does with the
place."
    "And?" George smiled back.
    "And, I'll keep you posted on any
further developments. I'm afraid she's got more important things to
worry about right now than me. Someone is sure trying to throw a
scare into her."
    "What do you mean?"
    Joe pushed himself back in the chair
and went into detail about the accident at the Rodeo. "I've got a
gut feeling she thinks I'm the culprit."
    "You?" George's outburst had Joe
laughing inwardly. The man was a friend. "Then she doesn't know you
very well, does she, my friend?"
    Joe chuckled aloud. "She's just a
skittish filly that needs to be gentled."
    "By someone like you?" George
snickered.
    "Maybe, maybe not." Joe suddenly got to
his feet. "Now, what time is dinner?"
    George Driscoll stood up. "Make it
seven or so. I'll have to stay late for the auditors."
    "Want me to bring anything?" Joe
offered as he paused in the doorway.
    "Just yourself."
    Joe nodded. "Okay, I'll be there," he
called, and then strolled out of the bank and back into the bright
sunlight.
    ~*~
     
    "Okay, so who is this Candy Arnold?"
Lisa asked that evening.
    Joe shot her a quick smile and went to
hug her tightly to him. Gazing down into her gorgeous blue-eyes he
answered, "Just a neighbor."
    But something had drastically changed
between himself and Lisa. Perhaps it was the announcement of the
baby. Perhaps that's what made him detach himself from this lovely
woman he'd loved forever.
    He smiled to himself. She was still
petite, blonde and beautiful, but holding her wasn't affecting him
any longer. Those male urges that used to drive him insane whenever
he came close to her were gone.
    "Just a neighbor," she repeated with
disbelief. "You've