Cowboy Daddy

by Hannah McBride

  “Lila—” Caroline’s voice had acquired a tinge of coolness, a hint of warning.

  “Oh, honey, don’t get up on your high horse. I’m just tryin’ to prepare you for the real world of Ben Taggart. Wish I’d gotten hold of you before you married the stiff—I could have steered you away before you got in so deep. Marriage. Hah!”

  Biting her lip in consternation, Caroline turned to glance out the side window. From there, and the attached outside mirror, she could see that the girls, involved in whatever play they were sharing in the rear seat—stickers being applied to the blank pages of an activity book, at the moment—were paying absolutely no attention to this adult conversation.

  “Look, Carrie, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Lila hastened to apologize. “I’m just a blunderin’ old fool, I admit, but I mean well. Hell, I went to elementary and high school with that guy. We had a few dates, and he tried to feel me up.” She chuckled. “Succeeded once or twice, too. So I don’t hate him. I just feel sorry for the women he hooks up with.”

  Stiffly, Caroline murmured that there were extenuating circumstances.

  “Oh, sure, there always are. Get off the road, you moron!” she suddenly diverged to yell at another driver, who couldn’t possibly have heard her. “Honest to God, some of these old fogies oughta be sittin’ in a rockin’ chair on their front porch, instead of causin’ trouble for the rest of us people on the road. I mean, sure, I have no doubt you both had your reasons for gettin’ hitched. But I like you, Carrie, and Ben is a hard man to deal with.”

  “I’m finding that to be—true…” came the reluctant admission.

  “You betcha. Here, this is our turnoff, right? I mean, correct? Left turn?”

  “Yes, left turn. Then another few miles. We should be seeing signs for the entrance soon.”

  “How are you settlin’ in at that great house, Carrie?”

  “Well—getting used to things.” She managed a small mirthless laugh. “Especially Mrs. Wyeth. I’m afraid she and I don’t really see eye to eye on a number of points.”

  Lila’s mouth twisted with understanding. “Oh, hell, no, of course you wouldn’t. That woman is a tyrant from the word go. She worshipped Diane, you see, and she probably resents you like the devil itself for darin’ to come into the place she’s been runnin’ for so long, all on her own, with Diane gone.”

  “Mrs. Wyeth and I will have ourselves a nice little chat one of these days,” said Caroline quietly, almost to herself, as a pledge, “and make arrangements as to how we go forward. But, for now, my main concern is making sure that neglected little girl back there gets the love and attention she needs.”

  “And a wise course that is, honey. I agree 100 %.”

  Suddenly Lila reached across to lay a supportive hand on her passenger’s bare forearm. Even though this was a casual outing, and would no doubt finish up with all four park visitors emerging drenched to the gills, that hand was weighed down by several rings, a watch, and two clunky bracelets. A string of pearls encircled Lila’s tanned throat, and her sundress and sandals subtly announced their designer labels.

  By comparison, Caroline’s longish red hair was pulled back into a pony tail under her NYY ball cap, and she was wearing a faded beige tee and olive green Capri pants. Neither pretentious nor ostentatious, just simple and comfortable.

  Still, despite the outward trappings that she so favored, Lila was a kind woman, and would be, Caroline instinctively felt, a good and loyal friend.

  “Ben’s had some troubles in his life,” Lila told her now, quietly. “And it’s closed him off. I don’t know if he will ever be able to enjoy the normal things, like a wife and a daughter, and—well, something like our trip today. It doesn’t seem to be in him. The business comes first, last, and always, with no time for anything else.”

  Caroline’s heart was sinking just a little at this bleak diagnosis. “Has he always been this way?”

  “Noooo…No. Thinkin’ back, I noticed it more and more after he married Diane. That first year—well,” she shrugged, “it’s always tough for newlyweds, that first year, isn’t it? Adjustin’, and all. But—I dunno…it sure didn’t take long for the bloom to go off the rose.”

  Here at least was someone who might be able to answer Caroline’s nagging questions. “What happened to her? To them?”

  With a sigh, Lila lowered her voice. The girls seemed occupied, but Lord knew they had sharp hearing when they needed to. “Oh, honey, the most beautiful weddin’ you’ve ever seen. Eight attendants, a dress and veil to cry for, hundreds at the ceremony and the reception. A real society event, y’ know? They settled in at the Ten Buck and seemed as happy as clams.”

  “But?”

  Lila tooted the horn at another driver. The more involved she became in a topic of conversation, the less control over her spleen against other lawful occupants of her lane. “Well, as I say, that first year was fine. Then somethin’ happened—I don’t know what. Except that Diane was pregnant, and not happy, and the two of them grew farther and farther apart. Pretty soon, they were barely speakin’.”

  Little Sophie was born, and left to the care of a nanny because neither parent could find time to spend on her. The estrangement worsened. Lila, privy to none of the personal problems involved, feared a divorce was imminent.

  “Ben was out of town—again—when Diane took off one night in her red Ferrari,” Lila finished up softly, soberly. “She was doin’ that a lot, by then, just speedin’ on the country roads. Drinkin’, too, I heard. Only this time she missed a sharp curve.”

  Caroline caught her breath.

  “Uh-huh. Crashed and caught on fire. Not much left of anything, once the local cops tracked her down. I think the ashes that they found were burned right into Ben’s soul. Oh, he had a memorial service, all done up just as nice as you’d expect. And that was it. From then on, what you have is this Ben, all scraped raw down to the bone.”

  Silence ruled for a few minutes, with the only sounds being the smooth hum of tires on concrete, and the murmur of two little girls carrying on their own private talk.

  “Thank you, Lila,” Caroline said finally. “That explains a lot that I hadn’t known. I appreciate your telling me something that is obviously still so painful.”

  “Well, it threw all of us for a loop, believe you me. But I wish you luck, honey. It can’t be easy, marryin’ a widower with all those memories he’s carryin’ around. Becca, Sophie, look!” she suddenly broke off to squeal. “There’s the park! We’re here!”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Daddy, Daddy! You’re home!”

  Sophie, racing ahead down the wide staircase, flew straight into the dining room where breakfast was about to be served. Caroline followed along, more slowly and with less enthusiasm. It would be—a choice of various adjectives came to mind, so she settled for “interesting”—to see Ben present again, after a week of fleeting glimpses and prolonged absence. Conversely, this meant meals presented in a formal manner in this formal setting, under the glaring supervision of a hostile cook / housekeeper.

  All in all, Caroline preferred the simplicity of the kitchen.

  Especially if Mrs. Wyeth were out of it.

  “Hey, Princess, how you doin’?”

  To give the man credit, he did put aside a Wall Street Journal to envelope his daughter in a hearty hug. Ah. No suit today; no customary cord jacket or neat rep tie. Evidently he was planning to stay home for something involving the ranch, since he had dressed in faded Levi’s, boots, and a lightweight chambray shirt. Blue, again. By accident? Or by choice, knowing the dynamite effect in conjunction with those devastating eyes?

  “Morning, Carrie.” Still holding Sophie in one arm, he looked up with a smile. “C’mon in and join us. As you see, I’ve got my trusty crew here already.”

  “I do see. Good morning, Marilou, Tom.” Caroline, in her favorite summer uniform of beige Capri pants and a black tee boasting the logo of some 80’s rock band, felt quite underdressed beside
the lush and lovely Marilou. Blue, as well—were boss and worker bee doing a matchy-matchy, for some reason?

  With a mental shrug, Caroline poured a cup of coffee from a silver pot on the sideboard, then took her seat at the foot of the table. It hardly mattered. Since when had she cared about another woman’s wardrobe?

  “And then where did you go?” asked Ben of his daughter, who, seated on his knee, was regaling him with stories of yesterday’s adventure.

  “There was old-fashioned cars on a track, Daddy. And Carrie and me went in one, and she let me drive, and she said I was so terrible that I couldn’t get my license till I’m fifty.” Little hand in front of her mouth, Sophie giggled. “What’s a license, Daddy?”

  “Something legal, sugar, and I’m afraid I might have to agree with her.” Ben raised his brows and sent a crooked grin across the table. Much as she would not admit it, that grin did thaw just a bit of the frost collected around Caroline’s agitated spirit. “Here, why don’t you sit on your own chair and then you can tell me more while you eat?”

  Sophie blossomed under the attention, as, over plates of fluffy omelets, a bowl of grits, a platter of sliced ham, and English muffins, her father, and even Tom and Marilou, plied her with questions.

  She chattered on, describing the crazy collection of bumper cars (“I didn’t wanna go on those, Daddy, but Becca and her mom did.”) that had everybody at the rails laughing. The fire truck, with hoses attached so that each rider could put out the flames of a burning house with real water. The roller coaster, pulled by a dragon that breathed smoke. The helicopter ride, and the hay wagon ride, and the Ferris wheel all lit up.

  “And what did you have to eat?” Ben asked quite seriously.

  Digging into a mound of jelly, Sophie replied that they’d had hot dogs and French fries. “’Cause Carrie said it wouldn’t hurt me, just that once, to have somethin’ not so healthy. Aren’t hot dogs healthy, Daddy? They sure taste good.”

  Again that considering look sent to the foot of the table. Helplessly blushing, Caroline ignored it to attack her own dish of raisin oatmeal. At last, the semblance of an appetite on her part!

  While Ben’s thoughtful glance might have been critical, Tom’s was definitely approving. “Sounds like you two made a fine day of it,” he smiled. “Wish I coulda gone along.”

  “That’s all right, Tom,” the little girl comforted him with a grown-up air. “We’ll do it again sometime, won’t we, Carrie? And I’ll make sure to invite you, special.” Then, tentatively, she turned toward her father. “Uh—Daddy, would you go with us, too?”

  This grin encompassed his whole handsome face. For once, even his eyes danced with good humor. “Sweetheart, I’d enjoy being there. Depends on my schedule, though. We’ll just have to see, okay? Was there anything besides rides at this place?”

  “Oh, yeah!” Sophie beamed. “A pettin’ zoo, Daddy. With bunnies, and goats, and even a—what was that funny-lookin’ animal that spits, Carrie?”

  “A llama.”

  “Uh-huh. A llama. And then we put on our swimsuits, and we played at the water park. And I went down the big slide!” She closed her eyes in remembered bliss. “It was such fun. Best day ever, Daddy!”

  “Well, Princess, I’m sure glad to hear you had such a good time. Did you thank Carrie for taking you there?”

  “I did. And I gived her a hug, too. I’m awful glad you two got married, Daddy. Carrie is real good company. Can somebody please pass the hash browns? And the ketchup?”

  Once more that speculative look went slanting in Caroline’s direction. Wondering if this were a cuckoo brought up in a nightingale’s nest, no doubt; and what sort of rare (common?) bird he had brought into their family home.

  She met his gaze with a challenging one of her own. “How nice of you to honor us with your presence, Ben. Is there some particular reason you’re here today?”

  Brows quirked, mouth quirked, he was concentrating on a spoonful of buttered grits. “Yup. Need to have a look around outdoors, check on a few things. Thought you might like a tour.”

  “Indeed I would,” said Caroline, surprised.

  “You can check over the horses while we’re out there, see if there’s one that strikes your fancy.”

  “Horse? To ride, you mean?”

  “Well, yeah. That’s usually what we do with ’em.”

  “Oh. Well, then I think I’ll pass, for the time being, if you don’t mind.”

  A trifle miffed that his offer hadn’t been immediately accepted, he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “Daddy,” said Sophie reproachfully.

  “Yeah?”

  “She hurt her leg, remember? It’s hard for Carrie to climb into a saddle.”

  Nodding, Tom reached out to ruffle the child’s flossy hair. “Way to go, honey. It’s important t’ always stick by our friends, ’specially if they’re bein’ unfairly attacked.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” protested Ben on what was almost a squawk. “I wasn’t attacking anybody. Certainly not my wife.”

  The old cowboy stuck his chin out just a little, pugnaciously. “Sure sounded like it t’ me. But then, my hearin’ ain’t so good anymore. Hey, cricket, if you’re all done eatin’, let’s head out t’ the barnyard. Got a couplea young colts you can look over.”

  That seemed an unusually quiet Marilou’s cue to disappear. “Thanks for breakfast, Ben. I’ll be in the office when you want to start dictatin’ those letters.”

  Absently he waved a hand of acknowledgement. “Well, Carrie, horse or not, I reckon you can still take a walk with us, can’t you?”

  “Absolutely. Give me just a minute, okay?”

  Ben heaved up an elaborate sigh. “Why, gotta change your duds into something more pricey that the outside world can see, because what you’re wearing isn’t good enough?”

  “No.” Her chin lifted. There seemed to be a lot of chin action in this house, probably due to its annoying owner. “I planned,” she said slowly and succinctly, “to fetch my hat.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Modern-day ranches have much in common with the ranches of western lore. Oh, the conveniences are new: running water and electricity; motor vehicles; access to computers, cell phones, and the like; strains of cattle vastly improved by breeding and immunization.

  On the whole, however, outbuildings remain the same. There are the cow sheds and the machinery sheds, the stable, various corrals for various purposes, pastures spreading out to the horizon of God’s green earth, a combination bunkhouse, kitchen, and dining hall for employees (complete now with television, air-conditioning, extra-large bathroom, stereo equipment, and laptops plugged into Wi-Fi). Most places even boast an in-ground pool of magnificent proportions.

  “Are you up for a walk?” Ben wanted to know of Caroline, as they emerged from the family room’s back door onto the terrace.

  “I don’t know. How many miles are you talking about?”

  “Maybe a quarter or so. You can see the barn from here.”

  Sophie had already skipped happily ahead, with Tom following along in that deceptive cowboy stroll that simply ate up the distance. Pausing, Caroline plopped her ball cap down over her hair and pulled it firmly into place.

  “Huh. Nice hat,” Ben, surveying it, said with disparagement.

  “What’s wrong with my hat?”

  Another challenge. Damn. Was there no end to the challenges she issued?

  “You’re living on a ranch now, lady. You need yourself a gen-u-wine Stetson.”

  “Indeed. Will you have Marilou pick one up at the nearest Cavender’s?” she blurted out, before giving the thought a chance to percolate through her brain and halt short its being uttered.

  Astonished, he stopped dead to stare at her. “Well, maybe I will. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry, my remark was entirely uncalled for.” And made her appear a jaundiced, distrustful, snaggle-toothed harpy. “All right, tell me about what we’ll be seeing on today’s tou
r.”

  Lips thinned by annoyance, he lifted one disdainful shoulder. “I thought it would be good for you to know your way around, to have an idea what’s where, to meet whoever happens to be around at the moment.”

  “Sophie and I have been taking walks,” she told him, anxious to make amends, “back that way, into your beautiful timber.” The sweep of her arm pointed the direction. “I hope that’s all right.”

  “Whatever’s good for Sophie is all right with me. You don’t have to ask permission, Carrie. You have a right to be here, to do what you want. You’re my wife.”

  What exactly does that word entail? she wanted to snap at him, irritated anew by his cavalier attitude. And was then just as irritated by her own reaction. Perhaps she needed some anger management classes, before she turned into a complete shrew.

  Head lowered, gaze fixed on her sneakers scuffing through the graveled drive, she was wondering how badly she would have to screw up before he called this experiment a failure and tossed her out on her keister.

  “It’s shady,” she finally volunteered into the silence.

  “Yeah, it is. Grandpop chose a good site.”

  Animal sounds from the distance reached them: an occasional lowing from cattle in their fields, a whicker or whinny from moving horses, the startling caw of a crow flying overhead. A mixture of mammoth oaks and sycamore kept the heat at bay, shutting out the sun’s strongest rays, answering back with a ripple of leaves to any wandering breeze, providing shelter for birds, squirrels, opossums.

  Were some of the branches lower, Caroline could imagine children grabbing hold to climb. Had Sophie ever begged to have a tree house constructed?

  A gigantic natural pond lay to the left, bisecting neat emerald sod at the rear of the house. Caroline turned covetous eyes toward it. A bleached-oak deck had been built on one curved edge of the reflective water, with a large open shelter and barbeque facilities nearby. A two-person rowboat even lay roped to a convenient dock. Lovely. Simply lovely. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful spot for her and Sophie to explore soon!