“I’ll play it by ear,” she replied, after a moment of thought and a brisk nod of her curler-covered head. “Like I did with my own kids.”
With that, she was out the door and gone.
CHAPTER SIX
CORD LOVED EARLY SUMMER. By now, at six thirty in the morning, the sun was already progressing to the middle of the sky. After yesterday’s rain, flowers in the ditches along the road were blooming with wanton delight. Every once in a while, he’d find himself grinning at cows and their calves, grazing diligently in their pastures.
He took the almost empty road with care, always concerned about an animal—a deer or coyote, perhaps a sheep or young horse—darting in front of his truck. Half an hour later, he turned into the dirt parking lot at Bailey’s, sprang out and entered the restaurant. He noticed that J.P.’s Jeep was parked in its usual location. He also noticed a sign announcing an event on Sunday evening—Classic Country Night.
Cord joined him, first greeting Trooper, who was lying half under the table. J.P. grunted, “Hello,” and Cord helped himself to coffee; he had to admit, once again, that Tina had a point. This was much better coffee than he often drank at home. His own fault because when he bought it himself, he always got the cheap brands—he never seemed to learn. Brynne appeared then, carrying a laden tray over to another customer in one of the booths.
“Hey, Brynne Bailey!” he called out, then started to sing, “Brynne Bailey, won’t you please come home?” J.P. took up the chorus, just as Cord saw Eli standing in the doorway.
Reactions from the few people there—except for Brynne—were good-natured. She merely groaned. “I am home, you dum-dums. Oh, not you, Troop, my darling. You’re the smart one here. I’ll bring you a treat in a little while.” The Lab wagged his tail excitedly. Eat and treat were two of his favorite words. Two of every dog’s favorite words.
“Trooper, don’t suck up to her,” J.P. said. But he wasn’t serious. Trooper was less a service dog now than a companion; he no longer wore the vest. At the age of almost nine, he’d reached retirement, but J.P. wasn’t giving him up. The dog still played a role in helping him maintain his stability. J.P. no longer suffered from the constant anxiety and frequent panic attacks he’d endured after Afghanistan, but as Cord knew, they could still strike and without warning.
Another good thing—Trooper was welcome everywhere in Painted Pony Creek.
As Eli approached, Cord asked, “Did you hear what she called us? Dum-dums!”
“Hmm. I’m sure she’s got her reasons. Maybe I should arrest you both for creating a public disturbance.”
Brynne reappeared to take their orders. “Sounds good to me. Now, what do you guys want?”
They all ordered that morning’s special, the breakfast burger. As she left, Eli announced, “All right, gentlemen, this meeting is called to order.”
J.P. glanced at Cord. “Is ‘gentlemen’ better or worse than ‘dum-dums’?”
Eli ignored them. “Let’s get serious. What do we do about...Zelda?”
“It’s Carly, not Zelda. She told me last night.”
“Fine. Carly, then.”
“Carly for short, Charlotte for long.”
“What’s her last name? Same as her stepfather’s, whatever that is? Or maybe Reba stuck with Shannon for her own kid.”
“Don’t know. Didn’t think to ask. I’ll find out, though.”
“Man, that stepfather and wife number two were real assholes,” J.P. muttered.
“I assume you’ll get her name from the birth certificate. Or maybe not, depending on when Reba married this jerk.” Cord took out a pen and began writing on a napkin. “Okay. Last name. What else?”
They waited until Brynne had dropped off their meals and left again.
“Education,” Eli replied, digging into his egg-topped burger with fries.
Cord added that to his list. “Yeah, I’ll bet she didn’t finish high school.”
“Bet Reba didn’t, either,” J.P. put in.
“The big question,” Eli went on, “is...what exactly does she want from us?”
Cord shrugged. “She wants a father. Her father.” He paused to take a slurp of coffee.
“Listen, is she after money, you think?” asked Eli, ever the suspicious lawman. “Maybe she’s here to rip all three of us off.”
“She’d be entitled to some kind of money. At least from her birth father,” J.P. insisted. “Whomever that turns out to be.”
Which reminded Cord, not that he’d really forgotten... “Uh, I have to tell you something,” he said, looking directly at Eli. “Tina was getting Carly’s laundry from her backpack—and found a whack of bills. Twenties, fifties and up. Plus a high-end laptop.”
Eli almost choked on his coffee. “Whoo, boy,” he sputtered. “What the hell is that about?”
“Well, considering the filthy crap clothes she was wearing,” J.P. began, “and the fact that she was hitchhiking...”
“Yeah,” Cord said. “Doesn’t connect.”
“Unless she managed to steal from one or more of her rides?” Eli shook his head. “I could look into it, but I’d need to know where she’s from, where she was living. And where she’s been since she took off from wherever it was.”
“Okay.” Cord picked up his pen. “Writing that down.”
“Now,” J.P. began. “As to DNA testing...”
“Can we leave it for the moment?” Eli asked. “Till we know her a bit better, till we’re sure she hasn’t got an agenda of some sort?”
Remembering that scene eighteen years ago, the two of them, Reba and Eli, all entangled, Cord wondered whether Eli had an agenda himself, a personal reason for his request. Did he suspect he stood a good chance of being the father? If so, like J.P., he might not be ready to face it—either way. “We also need to know that she’ll agree to testing.” Cord turned back to his note-covered napkin. “DNA. Is she okay with the test? And if not, why not?”
“At the moment, it’s hard to tell whether she wants one father or three,” Eli said. “Maybe she’d like to keep us all hanging. See what she can get...”
J.P. snorted. “But it practically sounds as if she could buy us all out. How the hell could she come up with that kind of cash without stealing—”
“Shut up.” Eli nudged him, which had Trooper lifting his head warily. “Oh, hi, Brynne. I think we’re ready for our check.”
She paid no attention to him and bent down to hand the dog one of the promised treats she kept in the kitchen. “Oh, Troop, you are totally the best of this bunch.”
He gobbled his biscuit and wagged his tail appreciatively.
“You know what?” she said to the dog. “You’re not only smarter, you’re better-looking and a lot nicer than some of the customers here.”
Cord grinned at that. “Check, please. Some of these customers actually work for a living.”
They always took turns settling up, with Eli paying this time around. Cord noticed that he left a substantial tip.
“See you all tonight,” Cord said as he folded the napkin and tucked it in his pocket, then walked toward his truck. “Everybody still okay to come over for dinner? Say, at seven?”
The other two nodded. “Sure,” J.P. agreed. “Should we include Zel—Carly?”
“Probably not, but let’s see how it goes.” And they all headed off, with Trooper taking the lead.
* * *
WHEN CORD RETURNED to the ranch and parked—pleased that it was only 8:45—he saw a car. A sedan. Had to be a rental. And it had to be S. Fletcher’s.
Yep. There was a woman crouched beside the car, playing with the dogs. Maybe S stood for Susan? Sherry? Sandra? Well, he’d find out soon enough. He couldn’t see her clearly, just that she had long chestnut hair.
He got out of the truck, started to walk toward her...and almost stumbled. Another familiar
-looking woman—the very day after meeting Reba’s daughter. Now he knew for sure that S stood for Shallie.
Both dogs came racing up to him; he stooped to pet them, then rose to confront the woman. “Ms. Fletcher?” He probably sounded incredulous. Or confused.
“Yes, Mr. Hollister. Cord.”
“Are you...”
“Shallie. Yes.”
He took a few steps backward and leaned against the nearest fence. The paddock. Yep, here was another shock from the past. Did life have to be so complicated? “Wow,” he finally said, staring at her. “Shallie. From the Painted Pony Motel.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“And then you disappeared. But here you are again.”
She nodded. She was well dressed in formfitting black pants and a long green-and-blue-plaid shirt. She obviously had confidence, something she’d never possessed as a teenager. And money, which she’d never possessed, either. He was astonished, absolutely astonished, by the change in her situation.
“Let me take you to your suite and then we can have coffee, a chance to catch up.” As if he needed more coffee—or maybe with some Jack Daniel’s thrown in.
“Thank you.” He carried her bags inside and showed her to the client suite, which was up a flight of stairs across from the stairs that led to his bedroom. The suite was another Jenna renovation—she’d had a guest room built in what used to be his grandfather’s office and work space. Not that they’d needed a guest room at the time. But he had to admit that with his business flourishing, it came in handy.
* * *
AS SHE UNPACKED, Shallie studied the room. There was a simple but comfortable-looking bed, a rustic bedside table and matching desk with an old-fashioned lamp, a padded chair. A small but adequate bathroom. The suite was part of the deal, part of what she’d paid for, and it was certainly good enough. It also meant she didn’t have to worry about getting here from the new place in town or, God forbid, the Painted Pony Motel.
She hung her clothes in the closet, left her current book, a print copy of Michael Korda’s Horse People, and her iPad on the table and slung her purse on the doorknob. Once she’d checked email she made her way downstairs, feeling both excited and apprehensive.
Because she still remembered how she’d once felt about Cord, how attracted she’d been, despite his very obvious feelings for Reba. The man she’d embarrassed—and embarrassed herself in front of—all those years ago. It’d been an adolescent crush, but after her divorce, she’d found herself thinking about him again. And now, after meeting Cord in person, meeting the man he was today, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind.
* * *
WAITING FOR SHALLIE, Cord busied himself responding to email on his cell—his PR firm in Chicago, his lawyer as well as an old college friend now living in LA.
Eventually, Shallie came downstairs. The dogs tumbled around her, hoping for something edible to be thrown their way.
Cord gestured her to a chair and she sat, both dogs following her to the table, their tails in frantic action.
“Sit!” he ordered, but Shallie said, “They’re fine.”
“You’re encouraging disobedience?”
“What, to their lord and master? No, I just want to make their acquaintance. Their names are?”
“Bandit and Smoky.” He pointed at each in turn. “Coffee?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Anything to eat? I can manage toast, scrambled eggs or—”
“Thanks again, but I already ate. Stopped at that coffee place off the highway, had a yogurt.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “What a relief. I was afraid I’d have to force down a doughnut.”
Cord didn’t get it. For him, a doughnut was, if not superior to a yogurt, certainly preferable.
“Okay, if you’re sure...” He poured her a coffee, set cream and sugar on the table. Of course she didn’t use sugar.
After one sip, she frowned. “I don’t mean to be rude...but this is shitty coffee.”
Predictable—and exactly what he’d thought that morning. “Can you do any better?” he challenged, already knowing what she’d say.
“Oh, yeah. Start by not buying the cheap stuff.” He couldn’t argue with that.
“Fine. Well...fill me in on what’s been going on with you.” He wondered how she could afford a trip like this. A wealthy ex? A successful career? “What happened after you left town?”
“I ended up in Seattle, where—as you know—I still live. At first I worked in a hotel,” she said with a grimace. “As a cleaner. Not what you’d call challenging or...unfamiliar work. You might recall that Reba and I both did it, back in the Painted Pony days. But I managed to get a scholarship to art college in Seattle and after that, I started working as a graphic designer. Got married. Didn’t last, but we’re still friends. Sort of.” She paused. “What about you?”
“Similar. Married, didn’t last. She’s out East now, in Brooklyn. And we’re not friends.” He paused. “However, I’ve been involved with horses, thanks mainly to my grandpa. Business-wise, I’m doing okay.”
“Obviously. I, uh, learned about Hollister Horses on the internet. And social media. You have quite the presence,”
“I’ve got a good publicity team.” Cord leaned down to alternate between stroking Bandit’s head and Smoky’s. “So, on another subject, how’s your cousin Russ? Any idea? I never run into him.”
“I saw him briefly. Seems all right. Much the same really.” With a shrug she added, “The place is a mess, though.”
“Then I guess that’s much the same, too.”
She didn’t disagree.
“And Bethanne?”
“She was doing well. I’m not sure what’s happening now. She got married, moved to Texas, had her own business—but we haven’t been in touch in two or three years. I should’ve asked Russ...”
“He probably wouldn’t have a clue.”
“Yeah,” Shallie said with a sigh. “I’ll try to get hold of her at some point, see what’s going on.”
Their next topic of conversation had to do with her interest in horses. “I became familiar with them through a friend in Seattle. Emma Grant. She teaches therapeutic riding, and I’ve occasionally helped her out and, in fact, I’m hoping to join her business. But—” she smiled widely “—I love all animals.”
“I can tell.”
“Not always the human kind, though...”
They caught up on life in Painted Pony Creek and on personal news, then discussed a variety of other topics, ranging from politics to global affairs. An hour later, ten o’clock by then, Tina and Carly entered the kitchen. Once again the dogs bounded to their feet. And Shallie looked at the girl with an expression of deep shock. “Who are you?” she asked. “You remind me of someone I used to know—and love.”
“I’m starting to hear that a lot around here,” Carly replied.
Shallie stood, insisting on a hug. “You look so much like my friend Reba from years ago. Reba Shannon.”
“She was my mom.”
“What do you mean, was?”
“She died. I’m on my own now. How did you know my mom?”
“I’m...from this town. We met while I was in high school.” Cord saw that Shallie still seemed to be in shock at the girl’s revelation. “I...hadn’t heard. I’m so sorry.” He knew that for a matter of months back in her late teens, Reba had been a crucial—and probably confusing—part of her life. And then, like Shallie’s own mother, she’d disappeared...
“What about you?” she asked the girl. “Why are you here? Just visiting?”
“I’m trying to...sort things out.”
Cord caught Shallie’s eye and shook his head slightly; she didn’t pursue the question. “Uh, Carly,” he said. “This is Shallie Fletcher. And, Shallie—” he pointed at his housekeeper “—meet Tina Robbins.”<
br />
Tina held out her hand. Shallie clasped it, murmuring a vague greeting.
“Okay,” Tina said. “Let’s plan on lunch for around noon. Would grilled cheese sandwiches be all right? With some leftover coleslaw.”
Everyone agreed and then Cord gave Shallie a tour of the property, accompanied by his dogs. An hour or so later, they returned to the house for the promised lunch. Carly helped, while Shallie set the table and Cord checked his schedule for the next week. Then, once they’d eaten, Carly loaded the dishwasher; she was fitting right in, he thought. He explained that he was hosting a barbecue on the back deck for his friends Eli and J.P. that evening, a frequent Friday-night event. The girls were more than welcome but might prefer to have dinner on the porch. Up to them.
“Actually,” Shallie said, “I’d like to take advantage of this chance to get to know Carly. I’m sure there’ll be other opportunities to see Eli and J.P.”
Carly nodded vigorously. “Yeah, we should talk, you and me.”
Tina immediately offered to prepare something. “Any dietary restrictions?” she asked Shallie.
“Well, I’m mostly vegetarian.”
“No problem.”
And Cord—although a rancher—didn’t find it a problem, either, even if he did eat meat. Tonight’s guys’ meal was going to be chicken and burgers... Just as well the girls were going to be dining on the porch...
He announced that he and Shallie would have their introductory session at two and suggested she might want to rest for a while, after her travel the day before.
“Thanks. That’s a good idea.” Yawning, she hurried up the stairs.
* * *
SHALLIE STRETCHED OUT on the bed and closed her eyes. Still hard to believe she was here—back in the old hometown. Well, not that much of a home, but all she’d had. And despite Della and Norm’s inadequacies, she supposed they’d done their best.
There was definitely more to the story of Reba’s sudden appearance at the motel almost twenty years ago—and her equally sudden disappearance. Shallie wondered if she actually wanted to find out. She’d have to think about that...
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