“No, it’s okay. I understand,” he said into his cell. After a few minutes’ small talk, he ended the call.
“Well?” she was almost afraid to ask.
“Want the standard bad news first or the really bad news?”
She groaned. “Neither.”
“Not only will the delivery not be made today, but because of the festival traffic, they won’t even try for tomorrow. On the bright side—they’re guaranteeing they’ll have your tires here by 9:00 a.m. Monday.”
“Monday?” She pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead. “That’s—”
“Three days from now.” He placed the truck in Park, angling to face her. “I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but maybe after the shock of the carjacking, this is good? By Monday, you’ll be well-rested and ready to get back on the road. All the festival traffic will have moved out and you shouldn’t have any trouble getting to I-70.”
“Oh—I prefer back roads.”
“Why?” He made a face. “You’d make much better time on the Interstate. Come to think of it, why didn’t you take I-30 through Arizona and New Mexico? I thought you were from southern California?”
“I never said where I was from.”
“Your car has a California plate. Guess I assumed from your Disneyland bumper sticker you lived in the land of eternal sun.”
She shook her head.
“Where did you live?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not? It’s a simple question.”
“San Francisco.”
“Is that the truth?”
“Why would I lie?” She couldn’t meet his accusing glare. Of course she was lying. Not by choice, but necessity. If she could tell him her entire story, she would. But unless Laredo turned her over to his buddy Kyle, that would only make him guilty, too.
He shook his head before putting the truck back into Drive. “You can stay with me for the weekend—or should I say hide with me?”
Chapter 4
“Door’s open,” Laredo said forty minutes later with a nod toward the glorified shack he called home. The single-story adobe structure must have once had character, but decades of blowing dust had left it in need of paint and constant sweeping. Weeds poked through the wood front porch planks and a Western bluebird couple had built a nest on the sill of one of the four-paned windows. “Make yourself comfortable. I need to get the goats in the pen.”
“Let me help.”
“I’ve got it.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. Why wouldn’t she go? “Head inside and get the baby out of the sun.”
“What changed?” She’d clasped her hands on her lap and focused her gaze on them.
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t said a word since stopping to call Jimmy. In the whole day I’ve known you—” she glanced up to flash him a faint smile “—you’ve rarely stopped talking.”
He arched his head back and sighed. He didn’t want to do this now, but since they’d be together for the next few days, he might as well put his cards on the table. “The truth? I know you’re lying—about everything.”
“N-not everything.”
“Semantics. Be straight with me.”
“Wish I could, but...”
From the truck bed, a goat bleated.
“Never mind.” Laredo opened his door and exited the truck. He couldn’t take another second of being crammed alongside a woman who lied as easily as she breathed.
Been there. Done that.
Rounding the truck, he opened the passenger side and popped the baby’s carrier from the base. “Come on. I need to drive the goats down to the pen. Then I need to see about my horse, Charger. He’s seemed a bit lonely, and I read online that they get along well with goats.”
She seemed frozen to the truck’s bench seat.
Goat unrest ran rampant.
“Correction,” he said. “They probably get along well with well-mannered goats—not the rowdy bunch I presently have on my hands.”
All four protested captivity with mournful bleats. Maybe he should have second-guessed not only his decision to take in Mary and her daughter, but the other four ladies in his life.
“Mary...” He ran his hand over his whisker-stubbled jaw.
“I don’t want you to think bad of me.” She bowed her head. “I hate myself enough. Having you hate me, too...”
“I don’t hate you. I don’t know you well enough to summon that much emotion. But I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel comfortable not knowing what I’ve gotten myself into. Taking a wild stab, I’m guessing you’re on the run? Maybe from an abusive husband? Something worse? Whatever it is, let me help.”
“You can’t.”
“How do you know if you don’t ask?”
While pondering his question, she drew her lower lip into her mouth.
The goats grew rowdier.
The sun beat down on his shoulders and the baby. He held his hand over her head for shade.
“For now,” he said, “let’s table the topic. Get your daughter out of this heat.”
Mary slid from the truck to take the baby from his arms. “I didn’t lie about everything. I am going to see my grandparents. Lark is my daughter’s name.”
“Want a trophy?”
Tears welled in her big, brown gaze. She fairly cowered against the truck’s side panel. Was she afraid of him? The notion made him instantly regret his harsh words. More than ever, he was convinced she was hiding from an abusive ex. If Laredo’s assumptions were right, he could not only help her, but better secure the place in the off chance her bastard ex somehow found his wife and daughter.
“Sorry,” he said. “Do me a favor and see what you can scrounge up for lunch. My doughnut wore off a while ago.”
Without a word, she turned from him to enter the house.
He shut the truck’s passenger door, then climbed back behind the wheel to drive the goats to their pen. Judging by Mary’s instant tears and the way she’d seemed to shrink within herself, Laredo decided to give her a pass on the lies.
Didn’t happen often, but once in a while they’d had a SEAL brother turn to abuse as a coping mechanism. The wives took in the victim and any children while the guys ensured it never happened again. Sometimes counseling helped. When it didn’t, lives were more often than not irrevocably damaged.
He backed up to the pen’s entrance—only it was really more of a yard he’d enclosed with wire fencing. It was about the size of half a football field. They’d have plenty of space to explore, plus the shade of an old cottonwood tree. Eventually, the ladies could roam free, but Ned advised letting them first get settled. Having already set out fresh hay, water and feed earlier that morning, his only remaining task was to haul the bleating beasts from the truck.
The first two went willingly, but the last two fought every brutal, dusty step, bleating and bucking until Laredo finally had all four safely in the pen.
His chestnut gelding, Charger, stood at the pasture’s wooden fence appraising the scene with snorting superiority. “What’s the problem, buddy?” He sauntered over to rub the chestnut’s nose. “Are you thinking these rowdy goats ruin our otherwise peaceful neighborhood?”
Charger snorted.
“You’re probably right.”
He gave the horse an extra scoop of feed and filled his water, promising a ride in the morning.
From the barn, he hefted the chicken feed over his right shoulder, then moseyed to the coop. After dropping the bag to the ground, he used his pocket knife to slash it open, then fed the clucking ladies.
His lone rooster stood back, appraising him as if somehow finding him lacking.
“Keep it up, mister.” Laredo tossed a handful of feed his way. “One of these days you’ll push me too far and wind up as my S
unday supper.”
Laredo lingered longer than necessary at his coop. He gave the water pan a good cleaning, then raked the fifteen-by-fifteen caged enclosure even though he’d done it the previous afternoon.
Wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm, after sweeping out the coop and filling the nesting boxes with fresh straw, it occurred to Laredo that he was stalling.
That scene with Mary had been unsettling. The worst of which was that he didn’t know why. So what if the woman was lying? Odds were, she had good reason. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d be in his life beyond the next three days. Why did he care how she chose to handle her private affairs?
“Laredo!” she called out the front door. “Lunch is ready!”
Swell.
Though his stomach rumbled, he still wasn’t ready to face her. Part of him felt bad for his accusatory tone. Another part was irrationally peeved about her refusal to open up to him. Which made him sound like a fourteen-year-old girl pouting to have been excluded from the day’s juiciest gossip. But whatever Mary was keeping a secret, it wasn’t fodder for tea, but her life.
He didn’t go around spilling his innermost thoughts.
Why should she?
“Ladies,” he said to his flock of ten hens. “Do you think I’m overreacting?”
Judging by the increase in clucks and warbles, either they wholeheartedly agreed or wanted more feed.
“Some help you are...”
He stepped out of the pen, closed it, stashed the feed in a storage bin, then strolled across the dirt driveway leading toward the house’s stubby brick walk and pitiful excuse for a yard that was more weeds than grass.
He’d just stepped onto the porch when Mary popped open the screen door.
“There you are. I was going to call you again.”
“Thanks. I went ahead and fed the chickens.”
“Oh.” She turned to go inside. “How do the goats like their new home?”
“They seemed content enough to me. Ornery creatures damned near broke my ribs while I hauled them out of the truck.”
Her gaze widened. Alarm? “Do you need to see a doctor?”
“Nah. Nothing a few Ibuprofen and a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”
“Sure? Sometimes what feel like minor injuries at the time can turn out serious.”
“Is this coming from experience?” The instant the too-personal question popped out, Laredo wanted to take it back.
Tears pooled in her eyes, but she turned her back on him before they spilled.
She crossed the smallish living room with its mismatched furniture and brown shag carpet. There was hardwood beneath. He’d been meaning to refinish the house’s original mesquite floors but hadn’t had time. Or the desire. He couldn’t care less what the house looked like. Only now, seeing the run-down place through Mary’s eyes, did he see how shabby the structure truly was.
“What smells good?” he asked, closing the screen door behind him. Maybe by pretending everything between them was normal, it would be.
“Grilled cheese and tomato soup. A nice, cool salad may have been more appropriate for this heat, but you’re fresh out of greens.”
“Yeah.” He removed his cowboy hat, hanging it on the rack alongside the door. “My garden didn’t show as much yield as I would have liked. Next summer, I need to work on my hydration system.”
“I’m sure it’s tough out here—keeping your plants adequately watered.”
“A constant struggle.”
The galley kitchen was as run-down as the rest of the place, with cabinets in need of painting and appliances and countertops older than he was. More items he planned on replacing but hadn’t yet gotten around to. Since he was the only one ever here, that sort of cosmetic detail never much seemed to matter.
The baby cooed in her carrier that Mary had set alongside the table.
“Have a seat,” Mary said. “I’ll bring you your meal.”
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary. Since you cooked, I’ll serve myself. I’ll wash up, too.”
“Let me. Really. It’s the least I can do for all you’ve done.”
Sensing this was important to her—in some small way repaying him—he forced a smile before washing his hands, then sitting at the round oak table that he typically only used while paying the monthly bills. Not only had Mary cleared his stacks of unopened mail and strewn papers, but she’d scrubbed the surface until it now glowed.
“Here you go...” She set a plate in front of him. A real glass plate—not the paper he favored. And then a soup-filled bowl. The meal did smell heavenly.
“Thanks,” he said before digging in. His first bite of the cheesy sandwich left him groaning with pleasure. “Wow...”
She took the chair opposite him, starting with her soup. “It’s okay?”
“Phenomenal. Although, considering my diet mainly consists of scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, and peanut butter and jelly, I’m probably not your most discerning diner.”
She flashed a shy smile before ducking back to her soup. “My grandma used to make this for me. We had it a couple times a week. I used to think it was boring until I missed her. Now, every time I taste this combination, I feel like I’m back in her kitchen.”
“Did she raise you?”
“Her and my grandpa. My mom died in a car accident when I was three. I’m ashamed to say it, but aside from photos, I don’t remember her. Grandma’s the only mother I know.”
“What about your dad?” he asked after swallowing his latest bite of sandwich.
“While in the Army, he died from being too close to a suicide bomber in Iraq. I was two, but again, like my mom, have no memory of him.”
“Man...” He dropped his sandwich and shook his head. “Talk about family tragedy. I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged. “I can’t mourn what I never knew. Plus, I was blessed to have had grandparents who showered me with love.”
“When did Lark’s father come into the picture?”
She froze, but then faced him head-on. “My ex was—is—a club and music festival promoter. He was in Eureka Springs doing the preliminary legwork for a weekend country music extravaganza. Grandma and Grandpa run a boutique hotel in a refurbished bathhouse. He rented the whole place for his team. When I wasn’t working as a teacher’s aide, I helped with the restaurant and bar, we got to know each other in the two weeks he was there. When he returned for the festival, we, um—well, we got further acquainted. I discovered I was pregnant and he flew out from California, marrying me the next day. He took me back to his, um, San Francisco home and that was that.”
“Where is he now? I’m assuming you’re divorced?”
Nodding, she asked, “When do I get to quiz you?”
“I’m an open book.” He popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. “What do you want to know?”
“Lulu mentioned you being a Navy SEAL. What in the world drove you this far inland?”
“Fair question.” Needing a sec to compose an answer that sounded neither pathetic nor too harsh, he dove into his soup. After downing half the bowl, he said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’d do anything for my SEAL brothers, but sometimes that whole life got too intense. When we were away on missions, my days somehow felt amped up. Then when we got home, nothing seemed fast enough. Food didn’t taste as good and music sounded as if it was missing the base. To compensate, I drank too much. My ex-wife—Carrie—was all about the eternal party. She also very much bought into the hype of the whole Navy SEAL package. Make no mistake, we’re badass, but human. When my drinking started affecting job performance, my CO put me in rehab. My counselor was big into farm therapy—which was focusing my energy on animals and plants. Go figure—I loved it. Keeping a garden and livestock alive is no joke. It might not involve playing with weapons, but for the first time in my life I felt peace. Control
. I bought this property and filed for early retirement. When I surprised my wife with the news on our third anniversary, I thought she’d be excited by this new chapter. You know, a chance for us to start over away from all the distractions that threatened to tear us apart. Deep down, I believed this was our ultimate fresh start.” He snorted. “Far from it. She called me a psycho loser and filed for divorce the next day. Last I heard, she’d married another SEAL and still lives in San Diego.”
“Whoa...” His guest swiped silvery tears with the backs of her hands. “That’s terrible.”
“Oh—I failed to mention the part where she’d tricked me into marrying her by telling me she was pregnant. It killed me when I’d gotten the nursery ready and installed a car seat only to have her lose the baby. After our divorce, a mutual friend’s wife told me she’d faked the whole thing.”
“That’s cold. Like creepy cold.”
“Right?”
They finished their soup in silence.
The howling wind reminded him of the place’s usual solitude and how good it felt sharing a meal with not just her, but anyone.
“Lord...” He sighed. “Sorry for dumping on you like that. I haven’t thought about that stuff in a while. Still raises my dander.”
“I see why. Do you have family who helped you through?”
“Nah. Mom and Dad are in Montana. I have two older brothers up there and they both have huge families. Since joining the Navy, I’ve always felt like an outsider. My plan is to get this place up and running, then invite the whole crew down for a visit.”
“Sounds nice.” While he’d blathered on, she’d finished her meal and now stood to gather both of their dishes.
Her chubby-cheeked baby had fallen asleep.
“Let me help.” He rose to lend a hand but ended up colliding with Mary in a tangle of plates and arms. His forearms, hands and entire face overheated. Something about the woman dulled his normal edge. How had he managed to find a siren in the middle of the high plains? “Excuse me.”
“It’s okay.”
Home on the Ranch: Colorado Cowboy SEAL Page 4