“I thought I’d put them in the east pasture,” Caleb said, heading toward the horse trailer.
Taking that as her chance to leave, Laney waved a hand at the two men and hurried to her Jeep. Obviously, it was past time for her to go.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE TWO MEN watched Laney’s Jeep make a wide turn and head toward the road.
Caleb could feel Don’s gaze on him and he returned it, giving the inscrutable sergeant’s stare he’d perfected for the benefit of his soldiers.
Don only grinned. “Glad to see you’re getting to know your neighbors, Ransom.”
“Don’t have much choice. Her little boy is in love with my dog. He makes tracks over here whenever he can.” Caleb paused, reaching into his jeans’ pocket for his cell phone. “Speaking of tracks...” He thumbed through the photos on his phone and held one up. “Do you recognize these?”
Don took the phone, shielded the screen from the sun with his hand and, for several seconds, studied the image of an animal track with an open pocketknife placed beside it to indicate its relative size. He glanced up, eyes narrowed in concern. “Looks like a mountain lion.”
“I was hoping it was a bobcat.”
“You got the pocketknife you used for comparison?”
Caleb pulled it from his pocket, flipped it open and handed it over.
The vet looked at it and then at the picture. “Definitely mountain lion. A big one, too.”
Caleb grimaced. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He took the phone and put it back in his pocket.
“Where did you see these?”
“By my stream.” Caleb jerked his thumb to the west. “Or what there is of it before the monsoons start. There’s always a little seepage, but usually I see only coyote and rabbit tracks.” He paused, remembering the scream he had heard a couple of times now. He described it to Don then said, “I thought I saw something out here in the brush one night, but it was dark, not enough moonlight to see by.”
“That’s definitely lion. It’s unusual to have one in this area, but we’ve been in a drought for years, more than a decade, so their usual food and water sources have dried up.” Don lifted his head and looked across to the corral where Addie and her filly were standing, apparently asleep in the shade of a cottonwood tree. “Better keep an eye on that filly. It’s easy for a lion to take down a foal, and if this one is desperate enough, he won’t hesitate.”
“I will.” Caleb gazed at the long-legged, big-eyed filly. But he was thinking of Sam innocently running through the pasture or down the road without a clue that he might be in danger.
In spite of his stated goal to be left alone, Caleb knew he would feel responsible if something happened to Sam.
“I will,” he repeated. “I’ll keep him safe.”
Don’s crack of laughter brought him back to reality. “You’ve got a lot to learn about horses if you think that filly is a he.”
Caleb grinned, recalling how he’d corrected both Laney and Sam about the foal’s gender. “Come on. Let’s unload these two geldings.”
* * *
MONETTE PULLED OVER when she was several miles down the road and sat with the engine idling and air conditioner blasting in her face as she gulped for air. She tried to still her pounding heart and quell the terror that sent chaotic thoughts skittering through her brain.
Horses. She hated them because they were unpredictable, determined to go wherever they wanted to, jump any fence and come pounding down with their huge, fearsome hooves.
Memories of such an occurrence flashed through her mind, causing sweat to pop out on her forehead in spite of the cold air. They were memories she didn’t want. She’d shoved them down for years, never letting them linger, driving them relentlessly away whenever they surfaced.
Nausea welled up in her, filling her throat with burning acid. Hands shaking, she fumbled in her briefcase and pulled out a bottle of water. After taking a long gulp, and then another, she felt calmer, able to think rationally.
“They were in a trailer,” she whispered to herself. “They couldn’t get out.”
She practiced slow breathing as she worked to calm herself. “They weren’t a danger to...to me.”
“But what about that little boy?” She took another gulp of water. “What about Sean—I mean Sam?”
She hadn’t seen him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. He could have come running up at any second, right under the hooves... Monette’s mind scurried away from that thought. She tossed down more water. Sean could have been hurt.
She sat for a few more minutes, staring through the windshield at the blindingly bright day. That little boy could get hurt around those horses. It was her job to protect him.
Okay, then. She would keep an eye on Caleb Ransom’s ranch, as well as on Laney’s place.
Monette straightened in her seat as purpose and determination filled her. Nothing was going to happen to little Sean. Not on her watch.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY Sam and Laney were both happy to be home and together, but Sam missed his cousins and was looking for something to do.
“Can I go visit Bertie?” he asked that morning. He had scooted out of bed and come to find her in the kitchen where she was enjoying a cup of coffee and the online news. He had made a stop at the bathroom. His pajama bottoms were twisted around to the side and every hair on his head was on a mission of its own.
She gave him a kiss and said, “No. Not today. Some new horses were delivered to Mr. Ransom’s house, and he’ll be busy with them.”
“New horses?” Sam’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. “You mean babies?”
Laney could have kicked herself for mentioning that, but she knew Sam would have found out soon, anyway. “No. They’re older horses, but they’ve been injured, so he has to take care of them.”
Sam tilted his head. “What’s gingered?”
Laney stifled a laugh. “Injured means they’ve been hurt, like the time you fell and hurt your knee. Remember when you had to wear a big bandage?”
Sam nodded and Laney knew he was probably imagining horses with bandaged knees, but he soon changed the subject and began telling her about his bike-riding adventures with his cousins.
After they ate breakfast and he was dressed, they went outside so she could watch him demonstrate his new skills. When Sam grew tired and they returned to the house, he began looking around for something to do.
Laney knew that boredom and Sam were not a good combination. A plan formed in her mind. The high school student council was raising money for a group of students to go on a trip to Mexico where they would help rebuild a school that had been damaged in a flood. Laney had agreed to help with a bake sale to be held on Saturday in front of Wilson’s Emporium in town. She wanted to get her cookies made ahead of time in case she was called out on another fire. Her mother could keep them frozen until time for the bake sale.
That was the day after tomorrow, she realized, looking at the kitchen calendar. She’d been so busy she hadn’t noticed the date.
“I need to get something over to your grandma today, Sam.” Vivian had retired from her job as the high school’s guidance counselor and social worker, but still remained involved with volunteer projects at the high school. “So, how about you help me bake cookies?” she asked.
His face lit up again. “Sure. How many can I eat?”
“Two.”
“How many are we gonna make?”
“Several dozen.”
“Is that more than two?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Lots more. But you can still only eat two.”
Laney began looking around the kitchen trying to remember where she’d stored everything when they’d moved in. She’d put some of her things away hurriedly, thinking she would straigh
ten things out when she had to. Obviously that moment had come.
“Can other people eat two?”
“Measuring cups,” she muttered, opening the cabinet where she thought she’d put them after baking the cake for Caleb.
“Mommy,” Sam asked again, “can other people eat two?”
She looked at him. Blinked. “What? Oh, yes, honey. Other people can eat two.”
“Are we making chocolate cookies?”
“Aha. Here they are.” She snagged the measuring cups from the back of the cabinet and took down her biggest mixing bowl. “Chocolate? No, butterscotch.”
“Can we share them with other peoples?”
“Sure.” Now she was on the hunt for her favorite cookbook. She glanced around, recalling that she’d put all her cookbooks in one place and then moved them. The bookcase in the living room, she recalled, hurrying to grab the one she wanted. When she came back into the kitchen, Sam was perched on the tall kitchen stool, swinging his feet against the cross braces.
“It’s good to share, right?”
Laney liked where this was going, so she turned and smiled at him. “Yes, it sure is.”
“Okay, then,” Sam said in a satisfied way. He looked up and smiled his happy, little-boy smile. “I’m ready to help.”
“Go wash your hands.”
Sam bounced away and she knew he was washing his hands by the volume of the song he was singing. He was back in a few minutes, dragging the tall stool over and climbing onto it, ready to assist.
Laney helped him measure the ingredients, which he added carefully while she mixed them.
“You’re doing a good job, Sammy,” Laney said, watching him grip the measuring cup of flour with both hands.
“Yup, this is my job.” Sam’s brow wrinkled. “Mom, what’s a job?”
Accustomed to the way his mind worked, jumping from one topic to another, Laney answered. “A job is something you do for money, or something you do to help someone else. The job you’re doing right now helps me, and when we give the cookies to Grandma, the high school kids will sell them and their job will be to go to Mexico and use the money to rebuild a school...”
Her voice trailed off when she saw the puzzled look on Sam’s face. Once again, she had given him much more information than he needed. She didn’t know if that was because she was a mom or because she was a teacher.
“So,” Sam said slowly, “helping can be a job?”
“Yes.”
He seemed satisfied with that answer and they finished their task.
When she was ready to place the dough on the cookie sheets, Sam stood by with the spoons she would need.
“Thanks, buddy. You’re very handy to have around.”
“That’s ’cause I got two hands,” he answered solemnly.
Laney swallowed a laugh. Whenever Sam made one of his funny observations, she wished she had someone to share them with, someone to talk to about how wonderful he was without it seeming as though she was bragging about her son. His father had chosen not to be part of Sam’s life, except to send the child support payments. Even those came directly from his bank to hers. James didn’t even have to write a check. It was a painful reality she had long since accepted, though she didn’t think she would ever understand how Sam’s father could have walked out on him.
When the cookies were baked and cooled, Sam helped Laney separate them into packages of one dozen each, which they sealed in plastic wrap. Sam made sure she put some in the cookie jar for the two of them. With a cookie in each hand, Sam headed for his room.
After she finished cleaning up the kitchen, Laney looked down at the smear of flour across her blouse. “Sam, I’m going to change clothes before we take these to Grandma and Grandpa’s.” She hurried to her room.
It took her only minutes to change into another shirt and a pair of shorts and to brush her hair into a ponytail. But when she emerged from her room she discovered that Sam had disappeared once again.
* * *
“NOT AGAIN,” CALEB MUTTERED, his heart sinking. Bertie’s happy woof of greeting had alerted him, and he’d scooted out from under his truck to see Sam coming up the drive.
Caleb had hoped that Sam’s time away from home would have made him forget his obsession with Caleb’s animals. He’d hoped that Laney had finally gotten through to her adventurous little boy. But it seemed she hadn’t. And this time Sam was on his bicycle. His face looked very determined.
Moving gingerly, Caleb pulled himself to his feet. By the time he was upright, Sam was only a few feet away. The little boy held something in one hand, which made hanging on to the handlebars of his bicycle a challenge. Still, he was managing.
Sam came to a wobbling stop and put his feet down on each side of the bike. “Hi, Mr. Ransom,” he called out as he tried to step off his bike and hang on to whatever was clutched in his fist.
Bertie was a little quicker on the uptake than his owner. He ran up to the boy and made a swiping grab for whatever Sam was holding with such determination.
“No, Bertie!” Sam shouted, stretching his little arm as high as he could while trying to disengage himself from the bicycle. “You have to share!”
Bertie, of course, didn’t listen. He had Sam’s hands empty in no time. As the little boy made a flailing gesture at Bertie’s head, his bike fell over, taking him with it. He landed, face-first in the dust.
Caleb felt as if he’d taken a knife to the heart. His first instinct was to crouch and pull the boy into his arms, but he knew his weak leg wouldn’t allow that. Instead he braced himself against the truck and leaned over, gesturing for Sam to come close as he said, “It’s okay, Sam. Get up and come over here.”
Crying, Sam pulled away from his fallen bike and got to his feet. Slowly, he approached and buried his face against the dusty leg of Caleb’s jeans.
“Hey, it’s okay, sport,” Caleb said, awkwardly patting Sam’s head. The trusting way the little boy leaned against him put Caleb’s heart in his throat. He wanted to pick him up and hug him, but knew they would both end up in the dirt. Besides, he wanted this kid to keep his distance, didn’t he?
“I brung cookies,” Sam wailed. “I was gonna share, but Bertie ate ’em.”
“Well, he’s a dog and dogs aren’t used to sharing.” Caleb looked down at his own rough, grease-stained hand as it rested on Sam’s shiny brown hair. He hadn’t expected this and he didn’t want it.
He didn’t, he thought with a fierce kick of emotion. But it was hard not to offer comfort to this kid. “It...it was nice of you to want to share with us.”
After a minute Sam pulled away and knuckled the tears from his eyes. “I helped my mom make ’em and they were butterscotch.”
“Mmm, that’s good—” Caleb stiffened as a thought occurred to him. Fear prickled along his nerves. “Sam, you didn’t come through the pasture, did you?”
“Nuh-uh.” Sam shook his head and rubbed his face against Caleb’s jeans, no doubt sharing his tears and snot, Caleb thought. “I rode my bike on the road. I ride good now ’cause Shane and Logan teached me.”
Caleb sighed in relief. “Sam, you know you shouldn’t have come over here by yourself, but I’m really glad you didn’t come through the pasture.”
Sam looked up. Apparently ready for a change of topic, he glanced around and noticed the tools scattered by the truck. His own troubles forgotten, he asked, “What are you doing?”
Glad to talk about something that didn’t involve too much emotion, Caleb said, “The truck’s making a noise. I ran over something out in the pasture. I’m trying to find out what it was.”
Sam gave him a suspicious look. “Did you runned over that pony?”
“Pony? Oh, you mean Addie’s filly? No.” He turned and pointed toward the corral. “See, I moved the mommy horse and her baby so
they can both start liking people more.” Caleb paused, unable to believe he’d said “mommy horse.”
Sam gave one of his little hops of excitement. “Can I pet the pony?”
“Uh, no, not yet.”
“But she wants to be my friend. She wants me to ride her like a cowboy does.”
“She’s too little. Nobody can ride her yet.”
Determined to have the last word, Sam said, “I could.”
Realizing he was getting nowhere, Caleb changed tactics. “We can go over by the corral later so the, uh, mommy horse can see that you won’t hurt her baby.”
“I won’t hurt no baby,” Sam promised solemnly. “Cowboys don’t hurt babies.”
“I know.”
“What’s her name?” Sam asked abruptly.
“Who? The baby horse? I haven’t given her a name.”
Sam stared at him. “Then how does she know when you’re talkin’ to her?”
“I don’t really talk to her...”
“How’s she gonna know you like her if you don’t?”
Caleb had no answer for that. “Would you like to name her?”
Sam gave another of his hops of delight. “Yeah!”
Caleb watched in amusement as the little boy squished up his face in thought and gazed at the filly.
“Awesome,” he announced after a minute.
That surprised a chuckle out of Caleb. “You want to name her Awesome? Why?”
Sam stared at him. “’Cause she’s so awesome. Can I pet her since she’s got a name?”
“No, you still can’t pet her,” Caleb answered, amazed at this kid’s persistence.
Sam stuck out his bottom lip in a pout but it only lasted a few seconds because his attention turned to the tools on the ground. His gaze swooped back to the truck. “Can I help fix it?” In his eagerness, he bounced up and down.
“Well, I don’t know...” Caleb heard a noise on the drive and looked up to see Laney’s Jeep approaching. “Here comes your mom.”
Sam turned and saw her, too. “Uh-oh,” he said, scooting behind Caleb.
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