“Right.” Miss Ruth chuckled. “Tyson turns up, hears the bulls making a ruckus and turns on the floodlights—worried it might be dogs or coyotes or something. Boom, lights so bright, RJ and Audy are shielding their eyes and, guess what? Here come the bulls. Earl said Tyson said he’d never seen two grown men move so fast in all his life. RJ about tripped over his own feet and Audy barreled over the top of the gate and landed, headfirst, on the other side.”
Brooke started rinsing out the bowl, shaking her head. It was one thing to do such foolish things in high school. But now? It was sad...and embarrassing.
“That’s when Audy realized his boot was caught on the gate latch and that the gate is swinging open, dragging him along, and letting the riled-up bulls out.” Miss Ruth was wiping tears from her cheeks. “Good thing Tyson was sober enough to have fast reflexes. He got Audy clear and the gate closed before things took a nasty turn.”
Audy had always been lucky that way. Somehow, someway, he always came out unscathed. Not that she wished him any ill will. “Is Tyson pressing charges?” She couldn’t help hoping Audy Briscoe would have to answer for his behavior one day—preferably before one of his stunts got him killed.
“You know better than that.” Miss Ruth was still chuckling. “Tyson’s too good a friend to go causing trouble for the other two.”
Tyson wouldn’t be the one causing the trouble, Audy and RJ had done that on their own. But Brooke decided to keep that to herself. Instead, she got Miss Ruth set up under the dryer with a glass of iced tea and the latest entertainment magazine.
Her phone started ringing again and, since Miss Ruth was preoccupied and everything was washed and put away, she pulled the phone from her pocket. The number was unknown—but it was the same number that had called earlier.
“Hello?” she answered, prepared to hang up if it was another telemarketer.
“Is this Brooke Young?” The male voice was all business and not in the least bit familiar.
“Speaking.” She pushed her long braid from her shoulder. “If you’re selling something—”
“No. Miss Young, it’s nothing like that.” He cleared his throat. “My name is Giles Vincent. I’m a lawyer. I have an important matter to discuss with you. I’m sorry to say it’s rather...bad news.”
She didn’t know any Giles Vincent, so—
“You were friends with Dara and Kent Adams, is that correct?” the man asked.
Brooke sank onto the stool next to her hair-washing station. “I am friends with them, yes. Dara is my best friend.” He’d said were. It could have been unintentional, of course... But he’d said it. And the word seemed to hang there, echoing, louder and more important than all the rest. She shivered.
“I’m afraid there was an accident this morning, Miss Young. I am sorry to have to tell you that neither Kent nor Dara survived.” The man cleared his throat.
What? She and Dara had had an hour-long FaceTime chat only two days ago. Dara was fine. She was laughing, a lot—she was always laughing. She’s fine. This has to be some sort of mistake.
“You are the designated co-guardian for their daughter, Joy. As you can imagine, my top priority is to get Joy settled and with people who love her as soon as possible.”
Joy. Her shock gave way to something more urgent and colder.
“I understand that this must be somewhat of a shock, Miss Young,” he said, clearing his throat again. “But we were hoping you could come right away.”
Joy. Brooke’s toes were frozen. And the icy-coldness was rising. Slowly. Numbing her feet, her calves, her legs... Little needle pricks of ice all along her skin to deep inside her bones. Her stomach felt bottomless, aching and hollow. Snap out of it, Brooke. For Joy. Dara would be mortified if her little girl was scared or alone or...or... Dara. “I’m sorry.” But her voice was weak, her lungs gasping. With a deep breath, she tried again. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”
“I spoke with Mr. Briscoe already. He agreed that it might be best to consider carpooling—since we will need you both present to sign some paperwork.”
Brooke rested her elbow on the counter, covering her face with her free hand. “Of course.”
“Good.” Mr. Vincent sounded relieved. “I’ll see you both this afternoon.”
Brooke sat there, the phone pressed to her ear, long after he’d hung up. She needed a minute to collect herself. If she was the least bit emotional, Miss Ruth would get suspicious. Right now, she couldn’t answer questions—she could barely think.
“Everything okay?” Myrna Ingells, one of the beauticians who had a station in Young’s Beauty Salon, glanced at her. “You look a little pale.”
Brooke sucked in a deep breath. “Are you free to finish Miss Ruth’s hair? Something has come up and I need to leave.”
Myrna’s eyes went round as saucers. “Brooke... Of course.” She blinked. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
Brooke shook her head. “I...I don’t know.”
“What else do you need?” Myrna asked.
Brooke’s brain was spinning. “I need to cancel my appointments for today...and tomorrow.” There was no way this was a quick fix.
“I’ll check with Inez and Portia. If they have room, we will try to cover—if you’d like?” Myrna was clearly concerned.
Brooke nodded. “Yes, thank you. I know it’s an inconvenience—”
“Brooke, you’ve been running this place since you were twenty years old and I’ve never known you to take a sick day or ask for help, so I get the feeling this is important.” Myrna patted her on the shoulder. “You go on and we’ll take it from here.”
Brooke nodded, so thankful for Myrna. The woman was fourteen years her senior, calm and efficient, and maternal at just the right times. Like now. She was already tasking Portia and Inez with a list and reaching for the phone.
“Miss Ruth.” Brooke reached for her purse, ignoring the roar of the diesel engine announcing the arrival of Audy Briscoe and his large black truck. One thing at a time. “Something unexpected has come up.” The words got stuck in her throat. “I have to go.”
“Land sakes, Brooke, whatever is the matter?” Miss Ruth was frowning.
“There’s been...an emergency.” She glanced out the storefront window of her shop to find Audy getting out of his truck. No. No, he could not come inside. “I have to go. I’m so sorry.” She was walking to the door. “You’re in good hands with Myrna.” She knew the four women inside were watching her, that they’d continue to watch her through the large picture window that took up most of the front wall. They had a front row seat for whatever scene might unfold outside. There will be no scene.
But then she was outside, staring at Audy, and her feet were leaden—each step heavier than the last. Her pace slowed and her heart lodged itself in her throat, making her breathing labored and the ground beneath her feet unsteady. Once she got in his truck, it was real. Once they were on the way to Houston, there was no turning back. There was nothing she wanted more than just that—to turn back time.
Audy nodded at her. “Brooke.” Her name was thick and gruff and just enough to break her. He reached for her.
“No,” she whispered, and it was all she could manage. “People will talk—”
“People always talk, Brooke.” He pulled her into his arms. “Right now, I don’t care.” The gruffness was thicker, more urgent—rawer.
For a minute, she crumpled into him. She was drowning in a sea of hurt and shock and grief—buoyed by Audy’s fierce hold. Even though they were oil and water, they’d had Dara and Kent in common. From engagement parties to weddings to baby showers and more, now was not the time to focus on all the little things about Audy that normally got under her skin. They both lost someone today...
Dara was her best friend—she always had been. When Dara fell for Kent, Brooke promised herself she’d
never put Dara in an awkward position. There was no way she was going to lose Dara just because Kent had seriously questionable taste in friends. And, to give Audy credit, he had always seemed to be on his best behavior when they were all together. So maybe he felt the same way she did about Kent and Dara. Theirs were the most important of friendships.
And now they’re gone.
She held on to Audy—willing herself to be strong. She had to be. For Dara. And for Joy.
* * *
AUDY WAS PRETTY sure he’d made a mistake. A big mistake. The sort of mistake he’d regret any minute now.
It was only a hug. If there was ever a time in his life when he’d needed a hug, it was now. From Brooke’s washed-out face and wide-as-saucer eyes, he was pretty sure she needed a hug, too. Like it or not, he’d done what had seemed like the most natural thing in the world: pulled her into his arms. And, for a split second, it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. He knew she was hurting like him, knew she’d loved Dara and Kent, too. And Brooke Young, soft against him, was warm and solid and, most important, comforting. The thing was, once he was holding on to her—he wasn’t sure who was holding who up.
“We should go,” she whispered against his shoulder, her arms falling away from his waist.
He let go of her and stepped back—grateful he was steady on his feet. He swallowed against the hard lump all but blocking his windpipe. “Ready?”
Her nod was stiff and, by all appearances, she seemed braced and ready to take on whatever came her way.
“Good.” He cleared his throat but the lump stuck. “I’m not.”
There was a flash of emotion on her face—one that echoed the panic and uncertainty he was struggling with.
What was he supposed to say? Or do? He’d never been one to offer a shoulder or work through someone’s problems with them. He was the one someone called when they wanted a night out. Audy Briscoe knew how to show someone a good time. There was no way to good-time his way out of this one. But instead of standing there, smack-dab in the middle of the salon’s picture window—on display for each and every inhabitant likely gawking at the two of them—they should get out of the sun and hit the road. It was a four-hour drive to Houston. And that was if traffic cooperated.
He opened the passenger door for Brooke and closed it once she’d climbed into his truck. He headed around the hood of his truck, tipping his hat at the four women all but pressed up against the glass window, and climbed into the driver’s seat, slamming the door a little harder than necessary.
“You need anything?” he asked, starting the truck. But a quick look her way revealed she was on her phone.
“Hi, Kelly, this is Brooke,” she said, staring out the passenger window. “I’m so sorry to ask this, but would it be okay if Tess came home with Alice today?” There was a pause. “There’s been a...an emergency and I’m heading to Houston. Hopefully, I’ll be back tonight.”
Hopefully?
He was still processing where they were going. He wasn’t ready to consider what would happen once they got there. His stomach seemed to flip itself over and that knot, still caught in his throat, grew larger, making him swallow. Not that it helped. Not in the least.
Brooke’s sigh was pure relief. “If you’re sure that’s not a problem—” A much longer pause this time. “Well, I can’t thank you enough. I’ll call the school to let them know, too.”
“Kelly Schneider?” Audy asked.
“Yes.” Brooke nodded, scrolling across her phone screen. “Tess and her daughter, Alice, are good friends.” She held the phone up to her ear again. “Yes, I need to change how Tess Young is going home today.”
Audy’s phone was synced with his truck. When his brother’s name popped up on the navigation screen on his dashboard, he sighed and clicked Reject. He hadn’t just taken off—he’d left a note. It had been short and to the point, but it was still a note.
Brooke finished making phone calls.
Audy ignored another call, this one from Webb.
After that, they drove on in silence. Not by choice so much as it didn’t feel right to play music or force conversation at the moment. Besides, conversation would likely center around where they were headed and whatever was going to happen when they got there. Maybe the four-hour trip would give him the time he needed to prepare himself. His stomach did the whole inside-out-and-upside-down thing as he tried not to think about what was waiting for them in Houston.
His phone rang again.
“Does your family know what’s happened?” Brooke asked.
He glanced her way to find her staring at him. “I left a note.”
Her brows rose and her lips pressed flat.
He sighed, the weight of her gaze kicking up the temperature in the truck a good ten degrees. Fine. He accepted the call. “Hey.”
“Hey?” Forrest barked. “I’ve got one of the ranch trucks loaded up with barbed wire and ready to go and you’re not here. You were supposed to be helping restring the fence line in the south pasture, Audy. You remember? I’ve had to pull men from the barn repair to fill in.”
“Did you get my note?” Audy asked, his irritation barely in check.
“You mean the note that read, ‘Something came up, keep an eye on Harvey’?” Forrest barked again. “That note?”
From the corner of his eye, Audy saw Brooke cover her face with her hands and shake her head.
“I was in a hurry.” Audy ran a hand along the back of his neck.
“I can see that.” Forrest took a deep breath. “I do my best not to rely on you, Audy. I know the ranch isn’t at the top of your priority list... But it is your home and you need to earn your keep around here. We all do. So, when I ask for your help, I need it.”
“I wouldn’t have taken off if it wasn’t an emergency, Forrest.” He pushed back, wishing he’d followed his instincts and ignored the call.
“Oh? A rodeo emergency? A truck emergency? A female emergency?” His big brother paused. “Or does it have something to do with last night? And what happened at the stockyards?”
“None of the above.” Audy sighed, knowing his brother deserved a real explanation. “Kent...” He swallowed, that knot bigger than ever. He shook his head, cleared his throat and tried again—only this time nothing came out. He jumped when Brooke’s hand covered his. She wasn’t looking at him, she was staring straight out the windshield—but he saw how hard the muscle in her jaw was working. Seeing her struggle, knowing she was hurting just as much as he was, helped some.
Sitting here, he was sure something inside was broken and bleeding. The way he was feeling reminded him of the time he’d been trampled by a bull. World spinning. Ground shaking. Nauseated and hurting so he could barely think straight... But broken ribs and a cracked clavicle couldn’t compare to this pain.
He caught Brooke’s hand in his.
“Kent was in an accident this morning.” His words were brittle and gruff, but he got them out.
There was a long silence before Forrest asked, “Is he okay?”
“No.” Audy cleared his throat. “He didn’t make it. Dara... Dara, too.” He cleared his throat again.
Another long silence. “Audy. Where are you? I’ll get Webb to cover things here and drive—”
“Brooke is with me.” He cut in. “We’re headed to Houston. We...we’ve got to get things squared away with Joy.”
There was a slight break before Forrest said, “Whatever we can do—you let me know.” He cleared his throat. “I mean it, now. Kent was...well, he was family.”
Audy nodded, words failing him again.
“Call me when you know what’s happening, will you?” Forrest asked.
“Can do.” He forced the words out and hung up. As soon as he hung up, Brooke let go of his hand and went back to staring out the window.
The closer they got to Houston,
the more anxiety stacked up on his chest. It’d been one thing deciding Brooke could take care of everything when it was just him, Harvey and his truck—it was something else entirely now that they were side by side. The chance that he’d be of any use was just about nonexistent but he didn’t want to go into this Giles Vincent guy’s office without the two of them talking through a few things first.
“So...” he started, the sentence he’d been working through vanishing the instant her eyes met his. “I know I should know about what...this means, but...” He shrugged, his gaze bouncing off hers before he turned his attention back to the road.
“Mr. Vincent emailed me the paperwork when we left,” Brooke said, holding up her phone.
“Oh?” It shouldn’t matter that she’d been reviewing this information for the last few hours and hadn’t bothered to share it with him. But it did. “Since you’ve had a while to read through it, maybe you could catch me up to speed?”
“You and I are co-guardians for Joy.” She turned her phone over on her lap. “It’s pretty straightforward.”
“So...what does that mean?” he asked, trying not to panic.
“What do you mean, what does that mean?” Brooke’s irritation was back and stronger than ever. “Your uncle Felix is—was your guardian. I’m Tess’s legal guardian. I’d say we are both uniquely qualified in knowing exactly what this means.”
He did. But he was hoping, somehow, someway, that guardian might mean something different in this situation. It had to. How could he and Brooke possibly co-guardian a baby? A baby he’d met...once? Twice? Considering she just sort of sat there and drooled on herself, he wasn’t sure that counted. “I guess I thought it was a figurative sort of thing,” he mumbled.
“It was. Until they...this happened.” Brooke broke off. “Dara’s grandmother is too old to raise Joy. Dara’s mother died when she was in college and her father is in an Alzheimer’s unit. Kent’s family situation’s no better.”
He knew that, too. Kent had bounced around in the foster system until he’d been placed with the Whitman family there in Garrison. But the Whitmans had moved to Oregon to be close to their son and, since Kent had never been adopted, there was no real claim or connection between Kent’s little girl and the older couple. If he and Brooke decided not to take Joy, he imagined the lawyer would reach out to them... What other options are there?
The Rebel Cowboy's Baby--A Clean Romance Page 3