by Alison Kent
“That was a long time ago,” he said, startled that anyone had known about him and Callie’s time together.
“Some things keep.” She pushed a piece of raspberry-rhubarb pie—his favorite—across the counter at him.
“Loft got Callie a builder, so she feels obligated to be nice to him. The guy does nothing without a price. He won’t leave her alone.” As he watched, Callie laughed at something Loft had said. Deck dug into the pie.
“Taylor’s harmless,” Ruby said. “He’s lonely, is all.”
His gaze shot to her. “You seeing the guy?”
“God, no. I feel sorry for him. He puts on a tough act, but he takes things hard. Julie leaving tore him up. He wanted kids, but she told him she didn’t think he’d be a good father.”
“He tell you that?”
“Nope. Julie did. She wanted to hurt him for not being the man she wanted is what I think. Kind of vindictive of her.”
“There are two sides to every divorce, I guess.”
“It always ate at Taylor that he wasn’t as good as his dad. That’s why he brags so much. He’s insecure.”
“He pay you to say that?”
She laughed. “Eat your pie, cowboy.”
He looked at Loft and Callie again. He couldn’t help it.
“Don’t worry, Deck. Callie’s got his number. Look at her body language—arms crossed, bored smile. She keeps checking the clock. She’s indulging him.”
“So, Dr. Ruby, that’s quite the psychoanalysis.”
“You run a diner, you see a lot. People come in here to fight, flirt, fall in love, celebrate, make plans.”
“You hear a lot, too, I bet. You hear anything about Loft misusing state funds to redo his office?”
“Who told you that?”
“Suze Holcomb hinted as much.”
“Taylor bends the rules, sure, but usually to help somebody. He talked Craig Cosgood out of filing charges when Luther broke the mirror behind his bar.”
“Maybe, but he picks and chooses the laws he wants to enforce. That’s not good in a police chief.”
“So run for mayor and fire his ass.”
“I don’t like politics.” He pushed the half-eaten pie away, too upset to enjoy it.
“Politics is people, Deck. Finding out what they want and giving it to them.”
“Or promising it and not delivering.”
“You wouldn’t be like that. What did you say to Randall at the bank to get me my loan, anyway?”
“I told him you shouldn’t be punished because your ex-husband screwed up the finances. I also reminded him that he got his first job busing tables here. But what cinched it was when I pointed out if Ruby’s closed, your Christmas tamales would be history. His wife’s family cuts him a lot of slack because of those tamales.”
“You see? That proves my point. You understand people. You know how to get things done without hurting anyone.”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. The mayor thing kept coming up. He would have time on his hands once he left the Triple C. He lived simply enough that he could survive on the money he made brokering horses until he figured out where to spend the Lazy J money. He could buy a spread, but it had to be the right property, the right price, and it had to feel right. That would take some time. What was he waiting for?
He’d told himself he’d stayed in Abrazo for his mom, but she was happy in Modesto, and here he sat, doing what he’d done all his life. Callie’s arrival had made him restless.
“You want something else instead?” Ruby nodded at his barely touched pie.
“Not at the moment, no.” Talking with Callie about the woman he wanted had stayed in his head. Maybe he was ready to settle down with the right person. Someone who made him smile just thinking of her. Someone who made him laugh and made him ache—in a good way. Someone who challenged him.
His gaze went to Callie. She caught his eye. He nodded toward Taylor, asking her if she wanted rescuing.
She gave a tight shake of her head. She had it under control. Okay. She was an adult. Smart and strong.
Still, if that asshole laid a hand on her, Deck wouldn’t be held accountable for what would be left of the guy.
THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY Finn Markham arrived later than Callie expected. He climbed down from a rented black Escalade dressed in elaborate Western clothes. She fought a laugh, remembering how Deck had made fun of her red-leather ensemble. City slickers stood out like flies in vanilla ice cream.
“I’m here at last, love,” he said, coming up the porch and kissing both her cheeks, before leaning back and smiling. “The Wild West’s been good to you. You look so healthy and tan.”
“Thank you. You look…Western.”
Finn was midthirties and balding, but he dressed well and was charming enough to get away with flirting with any female over the age of sixteen. “Sorry I’m late. I stopped in your town to get directions—my GPS went AWOL—and made the mistake of talking to your sheriff, I guess? Or police. He was in a uniform. Loft was his name?”
“Taylor Loft. He’s our police chief, yes.”
“So he’s talking me into a tour of the town, saying it’s a gold mine for development, how he’s got this building, and would I consider a partnership? The guy’s got a pair of brass ones.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, cringing at Taylor’s boldness. “He’s very enthusiastic, I guess. Let’s get you settled so we can talk.” She led him to the casita she’d booked for him for the weekend. “I’ll show you my plans, the budget, the ranch house and annex. Then I thought we’d take the sunset trail ride.”
“Sounds good…” he said, but his attention had been drawn to four girls coming back from a hike to the river. College students from Paris, she knew. “Do you suppose those darling girls will be riding?”
“Possibly,” she said. She hoped not. She wanted his undivided attention on the acres she thought Valhalla might buy.
They’d barely finished the overview tour before Finn began whining about his feet hurting in the boots. He was hungry, too, so Callie had Cooky fix an early meal and a waiter carried it out to Finn’s patio.
While he ate, she showed him her plans and the budget, though he only let her get through a few screens on her PowerPoint before stopping her. “This cinnamon roll is incredible. What is it, toffee?”
“Caramel,” she said on a sigh. “Shall I go on?”
“Just give me a printout to take back. Everything looks great. You’re doing fantastic.” An emotion flew across his face. “In fact, you’re further along that we expected. Perhaps you might slow down a bit?”
“Why would we do that?” She tensed.
“I’m just saying there’s no rush.” He patted her hand, as if to reassure her. “So is it time for that ride?” He was watching the French girls head toward the corral.
“Looks like it,” she said. So much for keeping Finn’s attention.
Sure enough he spent most of the ride joking with the French girls. When she pointed out the river acres, he nodded. “Has potential for the right buyer. You should market it.” That was that.
She’d planned to entertain him all weekend, but at breakfast the next morning, he informed her he’d booked an earlier flight. She was reasonably certain that was because the French girls had shut him down.
“Thanks for a lovely time,” he said from the driver’s seat of his Escalade. “I’ll praise you to the skies!” He waved the folder she’d prepared, crammed with the printout, photos, plans and the budget. She was disappointed, but relieved that her investors had confidence in her work.
Watching Finn’s SUV disappear down the road, she heard voices and turned to see Dahlia and her father descending the porch steps. Dahlia had on jeans and a vest, not her style at all, and she wore a nervous smile.
“What are you two up to?” Callie asked.
“I’m taking Dahlia on that horseback ride I’ve been promising her for so long,” her father said. He looked pale.
�
�You feeling okay, Dad?” Callie asked.
“Got a bit of heartburn, is all,” he said.
“No more sausages.” Dahlia wagged a finger at him, her concern outweighing her fear for the moment.
“Who’s riding Brandy?” Callie asked, hoping it wasn’t Dahlia. Brandy was too spirited for the clearly terrified woman.
“Calvin is,” Dahlia said, her lips trembling. She was acting brave for Callie’s father’s sake, which touched Callie. Maybe their relationship was two-way, after all.
“Want to come with us?” her father asked.
“Too much to do,” she said, “but thanks.”
She sat on the porch to place a call, watching her father help Dahlia onto Wiley, who would be perfect for the woman. Her father moved so slowly. Did he have arthritis after all? One day he’ll die. The thought froze her heart.
She watched them ride off, Dahlia sitting rigid with fear. The things you did for love. Maybe by the time she returned, Dahlia would be as in love with riding as her father was.
An hour later Callie was deep into working out a promotional timeline when her cell phone made her jump.
“You have to help us!” Dahlia’s voice was high and scared. “Calvin fell. He says it hurts to breathe. I can’t lift him.”
“Where are you?” she said, fighting to stay calm.
“I don’t know. By the creek somewhere. Near some trees. We’ve been riding forever.”
“Did you notice the trail sign? Was it the Good Luck Trail?”
“I was too busy trying to stay on the horse to look at any signs. I knew this was a bad idea. I just knew it.”
“Don’t panic, Dahlia. I’ll call 911, then head out to get you. Keep my father in the shade, his legs up. Do you know CPR?”
“He says he just got the wind knocked out of him. Hurry, please.”
“Stay calm. Keep my father calm. I’ll call you right back.”
Her heart in her throat, fingers shaking, she got emergency services on the line. The county dispatcher promised an ambulance from Tucson. To save time, Callie would bring her father to the highway to meet them.
She called Dahlia’s number and got her father on the phone. “Nothing is broken,” he said, but his voice was tight and he seemed to fight for air. “I blacked out and fell. I’m out of breath, that’s all.” He was minimizing his condition, she was sure. What had happened? A stroke? A heart attack?
Please let it be minor. She assured him help was on the way, then called Deck for help.
“I’m ten minutes away on Ranger,” he said before she finished explaining. “Borrow Garrett’s truck. Throw in a blanket, water and ice. Grab the first-aid kit from the barn. Meet us at the trailhead. I’ll ride in and carry him out.”
Moving with crazed speed, Callie gathered what Deck had requested and drove to the spot. She parked and watched for them, praying they were in time, that the paramedics would be swift, that her father would be all right. They were only fifteen miles from Tucson, but heart damage happened quickly. Her own heart jack-hammered in her chest.
If something happened to her father…
The thought made her entire body twist in agony. It all came back to her, the horror of the call, the terrible words. Your mother was in an accident…. They did everything they could, but her injuries were too severe….
Just like that her mother was gone. No goodbye. There would be no more advice, no more hugs, no more sweet smell of the strawberry lotion her mother wore. And not another birthday party ever.
Gone. All gone.
This was no time to relive the past or sink into hysteria. Callie forced herself to take slow breaths, to steady her pulse, to stay calm. She caught movement in the distance and made out Deck barreling full tilt toward her. Her heart lifted.
He pulled up short, and she handed over the supplies. “It’ll be all right,” he said, low.
Not necessarily so. Things could go terribly wrong and they both knew it. Deck held her gaze for a moment, wishing her courage. “Don’t assume the worst, Callie. This is not the same.”
The exact words she needed to hear.
Deck turned Ranger toward the trail. The horse seemed to sense his urgency and moved swiftly.
Callie called Dahlia to tell her to watch for Deck. After that, all she could do was wait, straining her ears for the sound of voices, hooves on the trail. All she heard was the coo of a nearby mourning dove and the faint swish of cars on the highway. No siren yet.
Hurry up. Panic threatened.
It’ll be all right. Deck’s words blew through her like a cool breeze, settling her. He always slowed her down. What had he said about not rushing? You caught more details. Yeah. She studied a lizard skimming a mesquite trunk, then a pair of quail foraging in fallen leaves.
Before long, she heard noises—twigs snapping, the thump and click of horseshoes on hard soil and stones. Soon her father came into view, riding in front of Deck on Ranger. He looked pale as death and his face was tight with pain. Deck held Brandy’s lead and Dahlia followed on Wiley.
When her father saw her, he put on a smile. “Don’t worry about me, Callie,” he said. “I’m…fine.”
Deck helped her father into the truck while she got into the driver’s seat. “Drive like hell,” he said, sending her off with a pat on the side panel of the truck.
She did exactly that, shooting looks at her father as she raced for the highway. His face was pasty and damp with sweat and his breathing labored. He kept rubbing his arm. That was a sign of heart attack, wasn’t it?
She wanted to crawl out of her skin with anxiety.
“This is a lot of fuss over a faint,” her father said, unable to hide his grimace of pain.
Coordinating with the dispatcher, Callie met the ambulance halfway to Tucson. The three paramedics moved quickly and efficiently, asking her father questions about his pain level and the medicines he was taking, all while taking vital signs, shifting him onto a board with a collar—a precaution in case he’d been injured by the fall—putting in an IV and oxygen and giving him baby aspirin to chew.
Callie ran for her purse, then climbed into the passenger seat of the ambulance, which took off immediately, siren wailing. Callie chewed her lip and fought panic.
In a minute or two the paramedic in the back with her father stuck his head between the seats. “You doing all right up there?” He sounded so calm and cheerful she had to believe her father would be okay.
“I’m fine. How is my father?”
“We’ve got his pain down to a two out of ten and we’ll work it down to zero before we get to the hospital.”
“Did he have a heart attack?”
“He may have had one. Right now, he has an irregular heart rhythm and his pulse is erratic. He’s doing fine and we’ll be there soon.”
A heart attack. God. The paramedic gave her a sympathetic pat on the arm, reading the terror on her face. “Hang in there,” he said kindly. She nodded, blind with tears, unable to speak.
Her phone rang. “I’m on my way,” Deck said. “Do not think what you’re thinking. This is entirely different.”
He’d read her mind, and she was so glad he’d once again be at her side.
9
AT THE HOSPITAL Callie’s father was swept through the emergency entrance and down the hall to be treated, leaving her to talk to the admittance nurse, give insurance information and contact her father’s physician. After that she was ushered into a family area where people sat and read or watched TV, all looking worn, worried or bored.
With nothing to do but wait for the doctor, she was pacing the hall when she looked up to see Deck striding toward her, Dahlia trailing behind.
Callie threw herself into his arms, letting him hold her, giving in to her feelings as she had after her mother’s death. “I’m so scared,” she said into his shoulder, her body trembling. She fought to keep from sobbing.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
“If I lose Dad, I don’t know what I’ll d
o.”
“We got him here fast. They know how to help him.”
She buried her face in the cave of his chest and breathed in the cedar and sunshine smell of him, wanting to hide forever in his comforting arms. Realizing Dahlia must be watching, she composed herself and broke away.
Except Dahlia had gone. “Where’d she go?”
They turned to see her emerge from the hallway leading to the patient rooms, looking utterly bereft. “They won’t tell me anything because I’m not family.” She sank into a chair, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“They haven’t told me anything yet, either, Dahlia. It’s his heart, they think. That’s all I know.”
She looked up. “But I’ve treated him for that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He had a…problem…a few months ago.”
“A problem? You mean an attack?” Callie was horrified.
“Just chest pains.”
“Oh, no.” Callie sagged, shocked. “He never said a word.” She glanced at Deck. His face told her he wasn’t surprised. “You knew about this? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t he?”
“He didn’t want to worry you. You were in the middle of a big project.”
“So what? Nothing’s more important than this. I needed to know. What if he’d…died?” She felt like someone had dumped ice water on her head.
“We’ve watched his diet,” Dahlia said. “He’s had my teas. This can’t be right.”
Dahlia and her teas. Callie fought the urge to say something harsh about how crazy that sounded.
“It’s the ranch,” Dahlia blurted angrily. “It’s killing him, but he won’t let go of it.”
“Dad loves the ranch. Don’t blame this on the ranch. Heart disease is in his family. His father died of it, though he was much older….” Her voice caught. What if the disease took her father younger?
“Let’s wait until the doctors talk to us,” Deck said, putting his arm around her. “He’s getting the care he needs here. He’s safe.”
“Safe? He’s not safe!” Dahlia wailed. “Hospitals breed disease. They administer poisons, cut into people for profit. What he needs is my tea.” She fumbled in her satchel, pulling out the plastic container with all the tea compartments. She studied the sections, mumbling to herself, tears dropping onto the cover.