The Long Ride Home

by Kari Lynn Dell

  “You said you could drive,” David said, adding a glare of his own.

  “I can,” Kylan shot back and then hunched his shoulders, burying his chin in his chest. “I drive good. I just can’t pass the stupid written test.”

  “Everything is just so hard for him.”

  Even getting a driver’s license. Christ. No wonder the kid wanted to run away from himself, be someone, somewhere else. If he couldn’t get a license, how could he get a job? Any job. Especially in a place like this, where he couldn’t exactly hop a bus or a subway to work. So many little stumbling blocks, stacked up one by one. To Kylan they must seem like a solid brick wall he’d been bashing into his whole life.

  Starr finger-combed her hair and swiped at her smudged eyes, managing to look less disastrous by the time the white SUV bounced to a stop behind them. They waited, but it just sat there, lights spinning.

  “What’s he doing?” Kylan asked, darting a scared glance out the back window.

  “Running my plates,” David said. Or so he guessed.

  “They’re real suspicious of out-of-state vehicles on these back roads,” Starr said. “In case you’re running drugs. Or smuggling guns into Canada.”

  Oh, great. David imagined them all dragged into an interrogation room at the nearest border crossing, held for hours while the pickup was torn apart as they looked for secret compartments. The door of the SUV opened and a broad-shouldered male figure stepped out, flashlight beam skimming over the ground as he walked. A light-colored uniform, not black like JoJo’s.

  Starr rolled down her window and pasted on a smile. “What can we do for you, officer?”

  “Agent,” he corrected. “Border patrol. What are you doing out here so late tonight?”

  Late? David glanced at the dashboard clock, stunned to see it read ten-thirty.

  “We was showing him around,” Starr said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at David. “He’s visitin’ for a couple of days. Wanted to see some ranch country.”

  The flashlight beam swung around, full in David’s face. “Name and residence?” the agent asked.

  “David Parsons. Brush, Colorado.”

  “This is your vehicle?”

  “Yes.”

  The officer nodded, as if that jived with his information. “Reason for visiting?”

  “Business. A, um, horse deal.”

  The flashlight beam settled on David’s jacket, the National Finals logo with his name stitched underneath. Then it slid down to Mary. Her head jerked up and she blinked, her eyes unfocused. She burrowed deeper into David’s jacket, digging her fingers into his chest as if she wanted get under his skin.

  David tightened his arms around her, stroking the back of her head.

  “What’s wrong with her?” the agent asked.

  “Migraine,” Starr said. “They come on real sudden, so bad we have to take her to the hospital to get a shot. Light and noise are super painful for her,” she added, with a pointed look at the flashlight.

  The agent took the hint, switching the beam over to Kylan, who stared back like the proverbial deer in the headlights. “I don’t suppose you happened upon a party while you were touring around?”

  “We seen the smoke,” Starr said. “But we din’t want nothin’ to do with them guys.”

  “Which guys would those be?” the agent asked, suspicion sharpening his tone.

  “The kind that have tire parties,” Starr retorted.

  David probably should speak up, help her out, but she was handling it better than he would, so he buttoned his lip. Kylan seemed to be going with the silent approach too, thank God. Or he was too terrified to speak.

  “Where was this party located?” the agent asked.

  Starr pointed back over her shoulder. “Last road west. Least that’s where it looks like the smoke is coming from.”

  “But you didn’t drive up there.”

  “Mary don’t go on that road,” Starr said. “It’s where her brothers died.”

  Kylan made a choking sound. The flashlight beam swung around to his face. “Something wrong, son?”

  “I…uh…forgot. About the wreck bein’ there.” His voice started to quake and he clamped his mouth shut.

  “Was it recent?” the agent asked.

  Starr shook her head, lowered her voice, injecting some drama. “It was awful, though. All four guys in the back of the pickup got killed. And Mary seen it happen, so, you know…”

  Mary saw it? David tightened his arms around her in reflex, as if he could protect her from the horror, but it was much, much too late. Now he didn’t have to wonder what she’d seen during that flashback. Dear God. And she’d gone to war after that?

  The border patrol agent lowered the flashlight, gave each of them a long look. Then he stepped back, face inscrutable. “I won’t keep you then. Drive safe.”

  “Will do,” Starr said.

  He got in his SUV, switched off the flashers and bumped through a U-turn. Starr waited until he was headed back toward the smoke that still billowed from the base of the butte before easing out the clutch, so he wouldn’t see the pickup lurch when she fumbled the clutch. Smart girl. As she worked her way up through the gears, David felt a different sort of tension building in Mary’s body. Awareness.

  She shifted, tipped her head back and stared up at him. “You,” she whispered.

  He nodded, bracing himself for her reaction.

  “I…why…” She trailed off, her body still curled into his like a missing piece as the haze cleared from her eyes.

  She moved so fast he had no chance to react, scooting off his lap and across the seat. The motion caught Starr’s attention and she eyed Mary in the rearview mirror. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her voice was husky, her face pale and sharply drawn in the dim green glow of the dash lights. She looked very young, and very alone way over there on the other side of the pickup. David ached to gather her up again, shelter her until the monsters inside her head crawled back into their hiding places.

  He reached out, laid his hand over hers where it rested on the seat. Her startled, wary gaze jumped to meet his. He gave her icy fingers a gentle squeeze. She stared at him for a long moment and then slumped so her head rested against the back of the seat. Her eyes drifted shut while he cradled her hand as carefully as an injured bird.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  They all sank into their own thoughts for the next bone-rattling miles. Then the road noticeably improved and Starr shifted into fourth gear without prompting. Beside her, Kylan began to snuffle, turning his face into the collar of his coat. Starr didn’t say a word, just flipped on the radio and turned the staticky country station loud enough to mask the noise.

  If Mary noticed, she gave no indication. She made no movement or sound whatsoever until the pickup bumped from gravel onto pavement. Then she slid her hand from under David’s and straightened. “Pull over, Starr. You shouldn’t try to drive this thing in town.”

  Starr pulled over and she and David swapped places. As he slid behind the wheel, Kylan swiped an arm across his eyes, trying to erase the signs of his tears. David took his cue from the women and pretended not to notice. Starr scooted across the seat, wrapped one arm around Mary and put the other hand on Kylan’s shoulder, forming a tight little nucleus that left David firmly on the outside.

  Right where he belonged. So why did he care?

  When they passed the old gas station on the main drag, the street people were still huddled in front, half a dozen dogs milling around them. By contrast, the casino and adjacent hotel looked surreal, the parking lots an oasis of brightly lit, pristine concrete. David parked next to Starr’s compact Chevy and killed the headlights.

  “You need anything tomorrow, let me know,” Starr said with one last squeeze of Mary’s shoulders.

  Mary worked up
a weary smile. “We’ve got another day of curriculum training at the college, so I won’t be at home.” She tapped Kylan on the shoulder. “Walk her to her car.”

  “But it’s right—”

  Mary smacked him again, harder.

  “All right. I’m going.”

  Kylan slouched out of the pickup. David didn’t pretend not to watch as the kid cowered like a whipped pup while Starr read him what appeared to be the riot act. Then she relented, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing her face close to his. He nodded at whatever she whispered in his ear. She patted his damp cheek and then kissed it for good measure before shoving him away toward his pickup.

  “Did you apologize?” Mary asked when Kylan climbed into the passenger’s seat.

  “I tried, but she was too busy yelling at me. She said if I ever pull anything this stupid again she’s done with me.” His eyes filled with tears. He tried to sniff them back. “I din’t know that was where they was going, Mary. And I forgot about your brothers. Honest. I din’t mean to—”

  “I know.” That was it. No it’s okay or I’m fine. Her tone suggested that life would be considerably less than okay for Kylan when they got home.

  “Should I follow Starr to be sure she gets home safe?” David asked as the girl backed her car out of the parking slot.

  “That would be nice.” Mary tilted her head back and closed her eyes, as if the little bit of conversation had worn her out.

  David saw Starr safely into her driveway, then circled back to the main drag and pointed the pickup west out of town.

  “How come your trailer is parked here?” Kylan asked as they turned into the driveway.

  “David and I had dinner. We, uh—”

  “Had things to talk about,” David cut in. Geezus. She acted like she was confessing to adultery instead of huckleberry pie.

  Kylan grunted. The pickup barely came to complete halt in front of their house before he was out the door, slamming it behind him.

  “Thank you for driving and…everything,” Mary said stiffly, pushing her door open but not getting out. “I, well…it’s good you were there.”

  She kept her head down, undoubtedly embarrassed that he’d seen her flashback, or whatever that was she’d had.

  “Want me to stay and knock some sense into Kylan for you?” David asked, only half joking. Not that he would ever smack a kid, but looking at Mary’s pale, drawn face, it was hard not to want to give him a good hard shake.

  She laughed, thin and brittle. “Thanks, but, no. I can manage.”

  “Are you sure?” David unbuckled his seat belt and twisted around to look at her straight on instead of in the mirror. The shadows in her eyes had crept down to darken the circles beneath them. “You look whipped. Maybe you could leave it until morning.”

  She shook her head. “We’ll both be better off if we have it out before we go to bed. I won’t be able to sleep for a while anyway. I need to…unwind.”

  Chase the demons back into their hidey-holes, she meant. David wanted to say he understood, but of course he didn’t. The worst thing that had ever happened to him was nothing compared to what Mary had been through. And no way in hell was he leaving her and the kid alone out here tonight. What if Kylan took off again?

  David turned off the pickup. “I think it’d be best if I stayed.”

  “Here?” Her eyes widened.

  “In my trailer. Just in case.”

  “We don’t need a watchdog.”

  “Then humor me. I’ll sleep better if I’m close by.” He flicked off the headlights and stepped out into night air that felt like it had lost twenty degrees since sunset. “Do you mind if I check out your tipi? I’ve never seen the inside of one.”

  She shut the pickup door, her brows drawn together as if trying to figure out what weird game he was playing. Finally, she shrugged. “Go ahead. There’s an electric lantern to your right just inside the door.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m just going to—” She gestured toward the house.

  “Okay.” Goodnight seemed stupid considering, so he said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She gave him another of those searching looks, then nodded and turned to walk to her house. Her strides were slower than usual, as if she dreaded the confrontation to come. She paused a beat with her hand on the doorknob, shoulders squaring and chin coming up. Battle mode. David doubted Kylan would appreciate the butt-kicking he was about to receive, even if it was for his own good.

  The tipi loomed, ghost-white in darkness, but David went the other direction first, to check on Muddy. Just a quick peek in the barn, because he still had trouble believing the horse would be there. But he was—square, solid, his eyes slitted with annoyance at the intrusion. In contrast, Frosty nickered softly in welcome and stuck his head over the stall gate in search of the horse treats Adam liked to feed him and insisted David keep on hand.

  “No luck tonight, buddy,” David said.

  Frosty nuzzled his hand to be sure and then sighed, disappointed. David scratched behind his ear in consolation. He would miss Frosty. The gray might not have Muddy’s talent, but he was a lot better company.

  David propped his elbow on the stall gate, combing his fingers through Frosty’s long, silky forelock as he replayed the scene out there on Freezeout Ridge. Christ. No wonder Mary was so prickly and overprotective. She’d watched her brothers die. A person didn’t get over something like that. Then tonight, Kylan had come damn close to repeating history, making all her nightmares come true.

  Which begged the obvious question…what would the kid do when David took Muddy?

  Somewhere not far away, a coyote howled, setting off an eerie chorus of yips and yowls that hit a crescendo then faded into silence, leaving only the soft snuffle of horses breathing. David listened to the night breeze sifting through the trees while he probed at his emotions. Seeing what he’d seen, knowing what he now knew about Mary and Kylan—it had set him back on his heels, that was for sure. But was it enough to change his mind?

  Not about leaving Muddy. That would never be an option. But the reward? How much was his peace of mind worth? A hell of a lot more than five grand. Still, the sour taste gathered at the back of his tongue when he considered paying Mary off. It felt wrong deep down in his gut.

  Not unjust, he realized. Not unfair. Wrong.

  Wrong answer. Wrong move. The money and a new horse weren’t what Kylan needed. Not in the long run. Or even the short run. Certainty shot through David’s veins, hot and heady as bourbon. He didn’t know the right answer, not yet, but the reward money wasn’t it. He felt it the same way he’d known he couldn’t collect the insurance money for Muddy, no matter what it cost him. Instinct? Or a helping hand from the old boys upstairs?

  David stared at Muddy as if the horse could somehow give him a clue. Muddy rolled his eyes back until the whites gleamed, yawning as if to say, “Are you still here?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I can take a hint.” David gave Frosty a final scratch and then double-checked the stall latches before he left.

  Not that he was paranoid or anything.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Outside, a silvery quarter moon had climbed into a sky dense with stars. It seemed odd to see the same familiar constellations, but comforting, a reminder David hadn’t landed on a completely different planet. Bending over double to step through the circular entrance to the tipi, he found the lantern and turned it on as he let the canvas door flap fall shut behind him, frowning at the harsh blue glow of the LED bulb.

  It was cozier than he’d expected. The walls didn’t slant outward clear to the ground. A four-foot-high canvas liner circled the inside, forming a near vertical wall decorated with a parade of crudely painted animals, most of which were vaguely recognizable as horses, wolves, buffalo, deer or elk. The ground was also covered by canvas and a
hodgepodge of rugs, but the center had been left open for a pit circled by rocks. Logs and kindling were stacked inside and the tipi smelled of wood smoke from fires past.

  A trio of lawn chairs were scattered around the interior, and against the far wall a low camp bed was piled with pillows, blankets and what appeared to be a buffalo hide. Half of one anyway, David saw when he lifted it from the bed. One side tanned, the other covered with coarse, curly hair. And heavy. The weight of it would go a long way toward sealing out the chilly night air. He folded it in half and set it aside, then spotted a blue plastic cooler.

  The evening’s drama had left him with a powerful thirst, so he flipped open the lid. Inside, half a dozen cans of store-brand soda floated in melted ice. David contemplated the selection and then picked grape because it was Adam’s favorite and he also had a powerful need to feel closer to home.

  He stacked up the pillows and sleeping bag on the camp bed and sat down, using the bedding as a backrest so he could recline and stare up at the converging poles of the tipi above him, a tiny slice of jet black sky visible through the smoke hole at the top. Fatigue pooled like lead in his muscles. Geezus, what a day. He closed his eyes, let his tired brain go blank to everything except the skitters, squeaks and sighs of the night.

  He was on the verge of dozing when Mary’s front door opened and then closed. David’s pulse jumped. He hadn’t expected to see her again tonight. Or was it Kylan sneaking out? David listened intently but couldn’t hear footsteps. Whoever had come outside, they must be crossing the lawn, not the gravel driveway.

  The tipi flap rustled and Mary poked her head in. “Oh. Hey. I guess I don’t have to tell you to make yourself at home.”

  “Hope you don’t mind,” he said, raising the soda can. He should sit up, but he felt like his bones had melted.

  “The least I can do is buy you a drink.” She stepped through the door, letting the flap fall behind her. “I just wanted to tell you that there’s an electrical outlet inside the door of the barn, if you want to plug your trailer in.”