Free The Love of a Lawman, The Callister Trilogy, Book 3 by Anna Jeffrey Page A

sale of the horses was a waste unless Billy signed off his interest in them.
    She picked up the pen and doodled circles across one line of the blank tablet, remembering a scene in the barn in Texas when, after spending big bucks for semen and an expensive vet to do artificial insemination, they had learned Polly hadn't conceived. Someone popped off and suggested the ten-year-old mare might be sterile. Billy flew into a rage, stormed around the barn ranting that a mare that couldn't breed was worthless. When Isabelle tried to defend Polly, Billy shouted that if she thought a useless horse was so great, she could just have Polly.
    Isabelle loved Polly and was glad to claim her. Ambivalent about the mare's ability to have babies, she hadn't pursued tests to verify fertility.
    Another worry cropped up. Even if Polly turned out to be sterile, Trixie wasn't. Trixie had given birth to beautiful foals and was younger than Polly. But with Billy's name on the papers, a foal from Trixie couldn't be registered in only Isabelle's name. And if the foal sold, no doubt Billy would want half the money. Damn.
    For that matter, even if she were to enter Dancer or Trixie in some local-area shows, their winning money could present another problem with Billy. Double damn.
    She sighed, took a sip of coffee, picked up the receiver and was poised to dial the Oklahoma number when Paul came through the back door. He walked into the kitchen and poured coffee for himself. "Want some breakfast?" she asked him, unable to resist the diversion from making the call.
    "Naw, I ate something at home."
    Home to her brother was a thirty-foot travel trailer parked behind a friend's house. She wouldn't venture a guess what he might have eaten for breakfast. He was clean-shaven, she noticed. "You don't look hungover."
    He laughed. "Have some faith in me, sister. I was good yesterday. Went snowmobiling up on the other end of Callister Mountain. Had two beers and went to bed early."
    Isabelle grinned. "See? That didn't hurt you a bit, did it?"
    "Sun's been shining several days now. The barn roof oughtta be dried out. I'm ready to tackle those holes."
    The big barn's roof was made of cedar shake shingles that were at least fifty years old. They absorbed moisture like a sponge. She and Paul settled into a conversation about the work to be done and she postponed her call to Billy. Again.
    * * *
    For the rest of the week, between sessions of caring for and teaching the puppies, Isabelle helped Paul with the repairs to the barn. He worked from early morning until dark every day. By Friday, more than half of the roof shingles had been replaced. A new sheet metal roof was what she really wanted, but that would have to wait until she had an income. Paul had braced and strengthened the stall doors, replaced a few two-by-fours and screwed on new hinges and latches. Now she could pen up a horse and feel confident it would stay put. Paul told her he would start shoring up the roof structure next.
    He quit work late in the afternoon and announced he was headed to town for a get-together with Jim Beam. Isabelle tried to persuade him to stay and eat supper with her and Ava, but her invitation fell on deaf ears. She had already pushed him to his limit, she supposed, keeping him busy and sober for a week. She suspected he would be meeting Merle Keeton in town and they would consume a river of whiskey.
    After supper, while Ava dressed the puppies in costumes, Isabelle sat down with her budget. She had invested the cash she received from the sale of the Weatherford property in a CD that earned disgustingly low interest. An acquaintance in Texas, an investment planner, had tried to persuade her to put the money into the stock market or some other paper investment. She had refused. She didn't dare risk the only thing she could call hers in a venue about which she knew little. She couldn't even read the stock quotes on a newspaper's financial pages. She didn't trust stockbrokers anyway,