Free The Drifter by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page B

father this one, Leigh.”
    â€œI know. Belinda says he looks just like you.” Leigh shifted into third gear. “But I can’t understand what Amanda is doing out here if she doesn’t want you to pay child support or anything.”
    â€œShe wants information on my family’s medical background.”
    Leigh looked skeptical. “She could have asked you that on the phone.”
    â€œAnd I might have hung up on her. Can you imagine getting a phone call like that?”
    â€œI suppose you have a point, but she should have warned you.”
    â€œYeah, she should have.”
    Leigh swerved to avoid a rabbit. “Something else is going on here, Chase. My intuition lights are flashing like crazy.”
    â€œWell, if you figure it out, tell me.” They arrived at the corrals and Chase reached for the door handle. “In the meantime, I have some serious shoveling to do.”
    â€œNothing like cleaning out a corral or two to lower the stress level.” Leigh smiled. “Ry thinks we should bill it that way and charge the dudes a fee for the privilege of shoveling.”
    Chase laughed as he climbed from the truck, but he had to admit it was a good idea. “Are you joining me?”
    â€œI’m not stressed. Besides, I need to check on Penny Lover.”
    â€œYou’re spoiling that mare,” Chase said, rounding the truck and starting toward the tack shed.
    Leigh was already on her way to a small corral at the far end of the clearing. “Expectant mothers deserve to be spoiled,” she called back.
    Chase silently agreed with her. And he hadn’t been allowed to do that for Amanda, something else to add to his growing burden of regrets. He grabbed a shovel and rake from hooks on the tack-shed wall and headed toward the largest corral. He had the place pretty much to himself, except for the horses and the ever-present flies. Several of the hands had the day off, and there was no sign of Duane, the top hand, who was probably napping in the bunkhouse.
    Chase raked and shoveled steadily for nearly thirty minutes, tossing manure into an open trailer used to haul it away. Finally, sweat-soaked and much calmer, he leaned against the shovel and took a breather. He loved being down here, surrounded by corrals built a century ago. They weren’t the sort of corrals he’d expected when he’d pictured the ranch, though. Instead of open rails, the fences were made of gnarled mesquite branches stacked between upright supports to create a solid barrier. In Chase’s opinion, they were part of what gave the True Love its own character, and he liked just looking at them.
    Leigh walked over and leaned against the top of the fence. “Had enough?”
    â€œI guess so. You ready to go back up to the house?”
    Leigh nodded. “My maid-of-honor outfit needs a few finishing touches.”
    â€œOkay.” Chase propped the rake and shovel against the side of the trailer and pulled off his gloves. “Let me wash off in the horse trough and I’ll be right with you.” Shoving the gloves into the back pocket of his jeans, he hung his hat on the rake handle and rolled up his sleeves.
    â€œYou’re getting to be more of a cowboy every day,” Leigh said. “A greenhorn wouldn’t think of putting horse-trough water on his face.”
    â€œYou’d better smile when you go comparing me to a greenhorn.” Chase leaned over the trough and scooped water into his cupped hands. Splashing it over his face, he sighed at the welcome coolness.
    Then his eyes began to burn. Seeking relief, he washed them with more water, but the burning grew worse. “Damn! My eyes!” he cried.
    Leigh was over the fence and beside him in a flash. She cupped some water and stuck her tongue in. “Yuck!” She flung the water to the ground. “Something’s wrong with this water! Go wash in the bunkhouse and send Duane out here. I’ll keep