by Dana Mentink
“And I thought we were in the ranching business. Decided to try your hand at gold mining, Barrett? You want a little pickax for Christmas?”
Barrett’s teeth were chattering too hard for him to rustle up much of an answer. Keegan lowered a rope and in a matter of moments he was hoisted out into the daylight, which nearly blinded him.
His father threw a blanket around him. Shelby was already swaddled in a second blanket, he was happy to see. She appeared alert and interested, all good signs. In fact, her relief at the sight of him was written across her face clear as the words on a page.
Barrett filed that thought away for later and tried to stop shivering. “How’d you f-f-find us?”
Keegan jutted his chin. “You can thank her. She called us and then led us to you.”
Emmaline moved closer. “Daddy came back for the key. He wasn’t, um, in a big hurry, so I sneaked away and called Mr. Thorn. Then I ran back to the main entrance but you two weren’t there. I knew about this other way to get in. I used to explore when I was braver.” Her smile was shaky.
“Thank you, Emmaline,” he said. “I think you were pretty brave, especially since your dad might be mad at you for helping us.”
“Never mind,” she said, an unexpected spark of determination in her eyes. “I did what I had to do.”
“And Shelby and I appreciate it,” he said.
Shelby nodded over chattering teeth. “We sure do. Thank you, Emmaline.”
Hatcher ambled over with Officer Larraby at his side.
Larraby eyed them. “Came to check on you. Hatcher said he lost the spare key. What happened?”
“They almost got killed is what happened,” Keegan snapped. “Could have kept an eye on Hatcher to make sure this didn’t happen, couldn’t you?” The anger in his tone brought an answering glare from Larraby.
“Not my job to tend to your family, Keegan.” Larraby put a slight stress on the word your.
The two were biological half brothers, though Larraby’s father had never publicly acknowledged Keegan as his child. The rage that simmered between them marked them as enemies.
The last thing they needed at the moment was more antagonism. Barrett hastened to intervene. “This is Hatcher’s responsibility, not Larraby’s.”
Hatcher rolled his eyes. “The key broke. I was looking for the spare. It was an accident, like I said. You two were fool enough to go up against the mine and the mine won. Your fault, so don’t blame it on me.”
“You’re not an innocent party here, Hatcher,” Keegan started. His father put a calming hand on his arm, but it was Shelby who spoke.
“He’s right. I shouldn’t have gone wandering without being prepared. Barrett said the same thing, but he came along reluctantly to make sure I was okay. This isn’t Mr. Hatcher’s fault, at least, not all of it.”
Barrett gaped at her.
Hatcher nodded. “Now that you’ve seen how dangerous the mine is, I guess you’re done with this fool business?”
“For now,” Shelby said.
Barrett didn’t buy it for a second. Those captivating green eyes shone with a determination that said Hatcher might have won the skirmish but she would never let him win the war. He had to admire her spark, as much as he did not want to admit it.
“Good,” Larraby said. “I’ve got other things to do than come out here on a regular basis. Do either of you need medical attention?”
Both Barrett and Shelby refused to go to the clinic, so Larraby departed. Barrett insisted on driving Shelby back to her uncle’s place himself.
“Just to make sure you’re done wreaking havoc for today,” he told her. Owen followed in Ken’s pickup, though the look on his face said he wasn’t happy about it.
It jolted Barrett to think how Bree’s death had affected all of them, carving a line of hatred between the Thorns and the Arroyos that rippled across both families. How was it that he could begin to pray for forgiveness for Devon, but refuse to do so for Ken?
Because Ken doesn’t deserve it, he told himself fiercely.
He opened the passenger door for Shelby.
“What are the pickles for?” she said as she slid in, eyeing the case in the back.
“Oh, uh, I’m bringing them to the church. They run a soup kitchen and, er, we have a lot of pickles.”
“Homemade, huh? Your mom?”
“Well, actually, no. I made them.” He waited for the reaction he knew was coming.
“You make pickles? I’m impressed. How did you learn to do that?”
He sighed. “After Bree died, I sort of withdrew from life. The only thing I wanted to think about was the horses. I guess I got to worrying everyone because they did this intervention type thing and demanded I either join a line dancing group or pick a hobby.”
“You’re not up for line dancing.”
“I’d rather be boiled in oil. I found an old cookbook of my grandma’s and the first ten pages were all pickles, so I figured I’d give it a try.”
“That’s incredible.”
“Yeah. I made so many pickles it filled the entire pantry. We gave them away to everyone we could until people started hiding when they saw me coming. It’s, uh, kind of a family joke now.”
“Perfect. I really needed a chuckle.”
He blasted the heater and Shelby pressed her fingers right up to the vent. Her eyes closed in pleasure. “I will never take warmth for granted again. Thank You, God,” she breathed.
Yes, he thought, thank You.
Enough of the light and easy conversation. “So what are you plotting?” he said.
“What do you mean?” Her face was as innocent as a newborn lamb’s.
“You know good and well what I mean. You gave up too easily with Hatcher. What scheme are you cooking up?”
“I’m scheming to take a hot bath, for one, complete with bubbles and a rubber ducky if I can find one.”
“No jokes. Spill it.”
“Barrett Thorn,” she said, “just because you’re too stubborn to freeze does not mean I owe you anything.”
“Oh, yes, you do.”
“What?”
“I lost my favorite hat because of you.”
Her face lit with a gorgeous smile that did something to his insides.
“You got me there. Okay, so I owe you a hat, but not an explanation.”
They pulled up in the gravel drive, Owen right behind. Diamond grazed along the fence, cropping grass with an elegance characteristic of her breed. Lovely, hot-blooded, strong and intelligent. Like Shelby, he thought unexpectedly. He blinked hard and fiddled with the steering wheel.
She hopped out of the truck before he could get out to open the passenger door for her. Leaning in, she gave him a rueful smile.
“Thank you, Barrett. It seems like I’m always thanking you.”
“I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”
She laughed. “You go on with your pickle deliveries, cowboy. Don’t worry about me.”
“But, Shelby,” he said before she got away, “joking aside, you aren’t planning on going back in that mine, are you?”
Her smile vanished. Up went her chin. “I am going to keep my promise to my uncle.”
“Even if it kills you?”
Shutting the door, she walked purposefully toward the house without looking back.
NINE
Shelby was grateful that Uncle Ken was closed in his office when she let herself into the house. If he knew what had transpired in the mine, he would have forbidden her to return. Tiptoeing upstairs to the guest room, she sank into the hottest bath possible and stayed there until her toes turned to prunes. Dressed in clean clothes with her hair washed and dried, she returned to find Uncle Ken in the dining room with a small duffel bag.
&nb
sp; “Hello, Shelby,” he said, sinking into an armchair. “I didn’t hear you come in. I was just paying some bills.” He offered a wry smile. “Could use a gold mine right about now.”
“I’m going to make that happen if I can, Uncle Ken.”
“I know you will.”
She pointed to the bag. “Going on a trip?”
“I have to fly to England. I have property there that’s up for sale and I’m signing papers. I really don’t feel right about leaving you now, but I have to make this deal happen.” His smile was sheepish. “I’ve got some creditors that won’t be put off anymore. I’ll be back in five days, tops.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be perfectly fine.”
“All right. Zeke will be by tomorrow morning to check on the horses. He’ll come morning and evening to tend to them and get them settled for the night. Diamond is a handful so I don’t want you trying to deal with her all by yourself.”
“Did you buy Diamond from Joe Hatcher, Uncle Ken?”
“From his ex-wife, Cora. Her father died and left her a dozen horses, all beautiful. Couldn’t believe she wanted to sell and I didn’t really need any more, but Diamond was too beautiful to resist. Her daughter, Emmaline, was sure attached to that horse. Never made sense to me, but I’m not a man who can pass up a specimen like that. She’s spirited, though, so be careful when you ride her.”
“I’ve already reintroduced myself to Diamond. We get along fine.”
The clock over the mantel bonged. She thought how dark and dreary the room looked without the barest hint of any holiday decorations.
“Well, I’d better go. Are you sure you’ll be okay here?”
“I’ll be fine. I want to do some research on the area geology anyway.”
“So nothing dangerous up your sleeve, right?”
She wriggled her fingers. “Nope. Nothing dangerous.”
He sighed, the late-afternoon sunlight catching the careworn creases in his face. There was no harder job than being a parent, she thought. It made her long for her mother.
“Uncle Ken,” she said suddenly. “Did you know my father well?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Eric? No, not really.” He drummed nervously on the table.
“My sister found—” she forced down a lump in her throat “—letters from my father. All this time I thought my mother was preventing us from living with Dad because she was selfish and didn’t want to be alone.”
“But the letters proved otherwise, didn’t they?” Ken said softly.
“Yes. Did you know?” She caught his gaze, her own eyes wet.
“Your mother didn’t out-and-out say so, but I suspected.”
“He didn’t want us. He said as much in the letters. He stopped sending money and left us to my mother, who made it sound like it was her decision to keep us from Dad. She lied because... To shelter us from knowing that our father didn’t want us.” Shelby had not said it aloud to anyone but her sister, Erin. The words stung like a scorpion.
Didn’t want us.
Unwanted. The most painful word in the English language. What hurt more was knowing how she’d fought her mother tooth and nail, blaming her for being selfish when the truth was the exact opposite. But her mother shouldn’t have lied, should she? Would the truth have changed anything? Would Shelby have believed it?
Her uncle was shaking his head. “I can’t imagine not wanting a child. Opal and I, we tried for years to have a baby. Opal lost five to miscarriages and it devastated both of us every time. People say they aren’t really babies when they aren’t fully formed, but that’s not true. Each heartbeat was our child’s and we grieved when none of the babies survived.”
She sat next to him and took his hand. He looked at her through tears. “And then there was Devon. He represented the best day of my life, and the worst. I had what I’d prayed so hard for, and I lost my wife at the same time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I tried every day to show him that I loved him. I guess I didn’t do some things right, but I wasn’t supposed to go it alone, you see?” His tone was pleading. “Opal was supposed to be my partner in it.”
She clenched his fingers.
“And now...” He waved a hand around. “Well, he’s got another year in prison but what will his life be like after? He can’t even hold his head up after what happened.”
“He’ll learn to forgive himself,” she murmured. Forgiveness, there was that word again, though she did not feel she had the right to use it. “And maybe some good will come out of it somehow.”
Ken stared at her, hollow eyed. “‘And we know that all things work together for good to those that love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.’ Romans 8:28,” he recited. “Do you believe that?”
She did not know how to answer. Her past and present and all the things that had happened at the Gold Bar seemed to have jumbled up her thoughts. “I’m not sure, but I want to.”
“Opal said the good comes from becoming more like Jesus.” He pressed her hand to his forehead. “I don’t see Devon becoming anything. He’s broken, he’s ruined.”
“But he’s asked Barrett for forgiveness. That’s a first step.”
Ken wrenched away. “I know Barrett will never forgive him.”
“I think he will, Uncle Ken. He’s already started the process.”
Ken’s face was clouded in disbelief. “No, he won’t. And Barrett blames me, too.”
She stayed silent.
“Well, I am not guilty of anything but loving my son,” Ken said, getting to his feet, “and I will never seek forgiveness for that. Not from God and not from Barrett Thorn.”
He grabbed his bag and stalked to the door. With his hand on the knob he turned back, eyes like slabs of granite, sparkling with rage.
“Don’t let the Thorn family fool you, Shelby. They hate me, they hate Devon, and for all their religious spouting, that will never change.”
The door slammed behind him.
* * *
The horses watched Barrett with their usual complacent curiosity on Saturday morning as he stacked the bales of hay in the feed room, checking for leaks in the roof. He always had a sense of peace when he worked on or near the horses, a feeling that everything was right as it should be, the universe in perfect order.
Friday had passed quietly, the routine chores of the ranch helping him forget his and Shelby’s near-fatal experience in the mine. Now as the weekend before Christmas dawned in a swirl of pink and gold, he was not completely at ease. Though he’d heard nothing from Shelby since their escape from the mine on Thursday, he knew she was cooking up a plan and he also knew deep down in his gut that Joe Hatcher would do anything to get in her way.
What was driving the man? The question circled in his brain. Pride? Paranoia? Stubbornness? Heaving the bales of hay worked his muscles, but it did not seem to clarify his thinking. Finishing the loading job, he saw his father preparing the trailer, so he joined him.
“Taxi job?”
His father nodded. “Returning Brownie. She’s ready to go home.”
Barrett fetched the mare and led her to the trailer. Brownie was a beloved horse on the Bar Seven Ranch, a nice piece of property owned by a married couple who ran a dental practice. Doctors Joan and Bobby Kinley traveled when they could and Brownie was a regular customer because he required daily medication and specialized care that their other horses did not. The bay had been fearful of the trailer at first, but after hours of patient work by Barrett and Jack, Brownie was a self-loader, though Barrett still kept a wary eye.
Walking next to the horse, he offered encouragement and gentle pressure on the animal’s flank until Brownie walked into the trailer. “That’s a girl, Brownie,” he praised, giving her a scratch as he secured the lead rope and closed the tailgate.
His father chuckled. “Sure, unless you’re going to pressure me like Keegan does about allowing four-wheeling on the property.”
“No, sir. I’ll take four hooves over four wheels any day.”
Barrett climbed into the passenger seat and they rumbled slowly away from the ranch.
“Can I ask you a question, Dad?”
“Fire away.”
“What do you know about Joe Hatcher?”
His father shifted a little in the seat. “I don’t know as it’s right for me to talk about someone else’s life, son. Don’t know as I’d want someone to hash out mine when I wasn’t there to defend myself.”
“Not gossip, just facts. How’s that?”
“All right. The facts.” His father’s calloused hands played with the steering wheel. “Joe lived on his dad’s property, inherited the land and the saddlery business. Met his gal, Cora—” he squinted in thought “—Cora Felton, when her father came to the area looking for a place to stable his horses. Joe was in his late thirties when they married, I think, and Cora somewhat younger. Your mother would know the details.”
“Okay. So they settled on Joe’s place?”
“Yeah. Cora’s dad died when Emmaline was real little and Cora inherited his horses.”
“Were they, uh, happily married?”
“Not for me to say. Cora kind of kept to herself. Used to travel often, I know.” He eased the truck and trailer toward the main part of town. “Joe stayed back with Emmaline and the horses when she would travel. When Emmaline graduated high school, Cora up and sold the horses, every last one of them.”
“Why?”
“Dunno. Practical decision maybe. Horses aren’t an inexpensive hobby, as you well know.”
He knew, but that would not stop him from going without food or water before he walked away from his horses. Bree had felt the same, though she hadn’t grown up with horses and she was always a little fearful around them except for Swanny.