She didn’t know how to answer. Did Tanner make her happy? She reached to do the buttons on Grandpa’s pajamas, but he pushed her hand away and stared at her another long moment. “I can do the rest myself.”
Chapter 10
Classroom policies and lesson plans filled Destry’s mind, distracting him from fields that needed irrigating and fences that needed mending. The construction crews had arrived a week late and were preparing to lay the foundation in the field beside his house. With the first day of school only a week away, he sprinted along as if on the last mile of a marathon—trying to complete all his lesson plans and following up with the contractors. He’d forgotten about his appointment until he heard a car pull into his gravel driveway.
Alan Erskine was exactly what he expected. Wearing a faded Dr. Pepper T-shirt and torn jeans, Alan was so tall, he had to duck to get through the front door. He wore his hair down low over his eyes and only brushed it away occasionally to look Destry in the face. Destry smelled a hint of cigarette smoke and perhaps an even fainter scent of strong liquor, but he seemed sober enough. His muscles were soft, unused to physical labor—that too was what Destry had expected. What he didn’t expect was for a woman to follow Alan into the front room and plop down on the leather couch.
Maybe it was the skimpy black dress or the gauges in her ears, but she hardly looked old enough to be Alan’s mother. She couldn’t be Alan’s girlfriend, could she?
He held out a hand to her. “I’m Destry Steadman.”
The woman took it with her elaborately manicured hand and smiled. “I’m Farrah, Alan’s mom.”
“It’s a pleasure,” he said. “I’m glad you came along.”
Farrah crossed her legs, her skirt slipping a little higher on her thigh. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s with all the machinery? Are you planning to build a bigger house?”
He gathered a file from the kitchen counter and sat across from her. “Not a house. A resort to help people recover from drug addictions.”
Farrah wrinkled her nose. “Like the Betty Ford Clinic?”
Destry motioned for Alan to sit down beside his mom. “Yes, but on a much smaller scale. We plan to open next summer.”
She blew a bubble with her chewing gum and then popped it. “Huh.”
“It’ll be a retreat for people who have already been through rehab,” he explained. He placed a piece of paper on the coffee table in front of Alan. His previous experience hiring teenagers had taught him to set clear and simple expectations. The paper listed them: Be here at 3:30 every afternoon. Be sober. Work your hardest. Tell me if you can’t come or if you need help. Work until 6:30.
Destry read through the list and then asked, “Do you think you can do that?”
Alan nodded without taking his eyes from the paper.
“I’m also looking for someone to help irrigate twice in the mornings if you’re available before school starts.”
“He’s available,” Farrah said.
Destry ignored her, waiting for a response from her son. None came. He couldn’t have an employee avoiding eye contact all the time. It seemed too slave-like. He motioned toward the door. “Why don’t we go outside and I’ll teach you how to groom the horse.” He grabbed the bucket of apples as he headed out the door.
Alan glanced up, just for a second. “You have a horse?”
“His name’s Orion. He likes apples.” Destry stepped out onto the front porch. Although rain clouds hovered overhead, it was a hot, dry afternoon, and he was tired from waking up at 4 a.m. to irrigate before heading into work. How did other ranchers deal with the exhaustion? Did it get better, or were they always tired?
He almost didn’t notice the little piles of dirt on the hood of his BMW. But with Farrah two steps behind them, he couldn’t help it. “Don’t tell me Brittany’s been putting dirt on your car. Brittany!” Farrah shouted.
No one answered.
Farrah put her hands to her hips. “Brittany!” When no one responded, she shook her head. “That girl!”
He wasn’t worried about a little dirt on his car. He left Farrah behind to look for her daughter and walked toward the field where he kept Orion. “I’m going to hire a trainer, so he might want to groom the horse when he’s here. But when he’s not, I’d like you to help me do it. I’ve got to warn you, though, he’s no good to ride yet.”
A slight smile appeared on Alan’s lips. “Sounds good.”
They turned the corner around the side of the barn, and there in front of them was the field where he kept Orion. The gate was open. He scanned the field. Orion wasn’t anywhere in sight. Had someone stolen his horse? It took thirty agonizing seconds for him to run at full speed across the field to the horse stalls on the other side. He arrived to find no horse, only a little girl with dark pigtails, leaning against the wall of Orion’s stall. The little brat had just let his horse loose. She wore a glittery pink T-shirt that said “Future Diva.” That was for sure. He spoke through clenched teeth. “You must be Brittany.”
She picked up a piece of straw to add to a bouquet in her hands. “I don’t talk to strangers.”
Alan came jogging up behind Destry, completely out of breath. “Did you open the gate, Brittany?”
She didn’t answer.
“Mom told you to stay in the car.”
Destry’s mouth hung open. What kind of mom would make her kid stay in the car on a ninety-degree day?
Brittany put her hands on her hips, just the way her mother had. “It’s hot in the car.”
“Did you see which way the horse went?” Destry asked.
She walked out of the stall and pointed straight down the driveway. “That way.”
“Which way did he turn when he got to the lane?”
She pointed toward the Curtis ranch. Of course, Destry thought. Orion had to turn toward the Curtis ranch. Then he realized that finding Orion at the Curtis ranch wouldn’t be the worst thing. The worst would be if Orion ran all the way to the highway. That was the last thing Destry needed—for his horse to get hit by a car.
He grabbed his phone and found Rosie’s number as walked back across the field. “You stay with Brittany,” he yelled to Alan. Maybe Rosie had been right about hiring Alan. He might be more trouble than he was worth—at least if he brought his mother and sister along with him every time.
Rosie didn’t answer her phone, so he left a message.
As he ran to his car, Farrah came from the other side of the house. “I can’t find Brittany.”
“She’s over in the field. She let my horse out.”
Farrah’s nostrils flared. “She did what?”
“Do you mind coming with me to find him? Someone will need to drive my car back.”
He normally avoided women like Farrah the way he avoided deep-fried Oreos and get-rich-quick schemes. But right now, he helped her into the passenger seat of his BMW, glad to have her along. Without speaking, he got in, started the car, and drove to the end of the driveway. It was barely four o’clock and the sun still shone high in the sky. On the other side of the fence, Rosie’s cows crowded under the shade of a Cottonwood tree, munching on grass. In the distance, he saw her Shetland ponies.
Farrah made an effort to pull her short skirt down to the middle of her thigh. “I hear Rosie and Tanner are planning a Christmas wedding.”
He didn’t expect the sudden heaviness that filled his chest. Though they’d spent the last three days working together, Rosie hadn’t said anything to him about getting married this December. He tried to keep his voice casual. “Oh, yeah? I hadn’t heard.”
“I think it’s a new trend—women marrying younger men. It makes sense. Men die younger, and women are having children older. Might as well even things out.”
Tiffany had been older than him. It hadn’t been an advantage, unless he considered it a plus that she’d trained him how to remodel a bathroom. Being an older woman, she owned two houses, including a 100-year-old monstrosity that she had expected him to help her fi
x up. Toward the end, he’d spent almost every weekend laying tile or working on plumbing. He should have spent that time helping Cody get off drugs.
He glanced sideways at Farrah. He guessed she was about his age. If she’d had Alan when she was sixteen or seventeen, she’d be about thirty-three or so. Any younger man she dated might only be a few years older than Alan. Destry couldn’t let her go on, thinking that kind of stepdad was a good idea. “Older men tend to make better dads,” he said, “at least in my experience.”
“Are you flirting with me, Destry?” she asked, her pitch rising.
“No.” He slowed as they came to the end of the Curtises’ driveway. “Just offering some feedback.”
At the end of the driveway, Orion stood near Rosie’s llama. He couldn’t miss the bold black and white color of the horse’s coat against the golden grass. As he turned into the driveway, he saw that Rosie stood behind the horse, holding onto his halter. Rosie’s friend, Jade, was there too, wearing her sparkly jeans.
Before he exited the car, he turned to Farrah. She wore the highest heels he’d ever seen in his life, and he wasn’t sure anyone could drive in shoes like that. “Do you mind driving my car home?”
She smiled. “Are you kidding? I’d love to. I’ve never even sat in a BMW before.”
He left the keys in the ignition. “Tell Alan I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.” He wiped his sweaty palms on the side of his pants and stepped out to see Rosie. He wanted to make the excuse of Brittany opening the gate, but he didn’t want it to seem like he couldn’t control things on the ranch.
He watched as Farrah pealed away in his car and then approached the two women. “Sorry about this. It seems my horse gets along better with llamas than I do.”
Jade nodded in Rosie’s direction. “Actually, there’s another attraction.”
“So he likes Rosie?” He looked at Rosie holding the lead to his horse. As usual, her hair glowed golden in the sunlight. “I can’t blame him for that.”
He watched the color in Rosie’s cheeks change to a deeper pink. “No,” Rosie protested. “He likes my daisies.” She held up a single daisy in her hand.
“What daisies?” He looked around. “Don’t tell me he ate them all.”
Rosie smiled and ran her hand down the horse’s mane. “They’ll grow back in a few weeks. Daisies do that.” It was a good thing she could be so forgiving with animals.
“Alan’s little sister opened the gate,” he explained. “I didn’t even know she’d come along.”
Rosie lifted her eyes to the sky. “Brittany will do anything to get her mom’s attention.”
“I noticed,” he said.
Jade laughed. “And Farrah will do anything to get a man’s attention.”
“Then there’s Gertie here,” he said, not daring to look in the llama’s direction. “She’s not quite as fond of me.”
Rosie cocked her head. “Gertie?”
“Gertie, the llama,” he said. “It’s short for regurgitation.”
Rosie chuckled. “I wish I’d thought of that one. We call her Maya.”
He felt a sort of triumph in getting Rosie to laugh and blush all in the same conversation. Then, he chided himself. She was an engaged woman, after all. There was no use even trying. He reached for the lead Rosie had attached to Orion’s halter, brushing his hand against hers in the process. “I’ll bring your lead back tonight after I’m through with Alan.”
Rosie leaned against the fence. “You mean after you’re through with Alan, and his mom, and his little sister.”
He watched the dust trail from where Farrah drove his BMW down the lane. “Maybe you were right about me hiring Alan.”
“No, I was wrong, Destry. Alan needs you.” Amusement danced in Rosie’s eyes. “I think you even have what it takes to handle Farrah.”
He wasn’t at all sure what she meant by that. Farrah was desperate, that was clear. She had a reputation. And in Lone Spur, reputation was everything. Associating with her might even damage his chances for success. But, as much as he wanted to gain the trust of the townspeople, he couldn’t ignore Alan’s needs. He’d come here to help people after all. He couldn’t let himself get distracted from that goal, the way he had so many times before.
He recalled the last Christmas before Cody died. He’d intended to buy presents. Instead, he worked nights at the warehouse, trying to get orders shipped out on time. Then he spent Christmas day exhausted with Tiffany’s family—wearing a tie and chatting about the stock market. By the time he reached his parents’ house, Cody was heading out the door. With pain, Destry remembered the hollow look in his eyes.
No, that was the last time he would let his business goals get in the way of helping someone. Alan deserved his help, whether or not it damaged Destry’s reputation.
Chapter 11
Rosie woke early to a flash of lightning. She planned to get up early anyway, seeing as how it was the first day of school for the students, a day that still made her nervous. Rain pelted the roof. It had been raining off and on for a week, and the river was already running high.
Last night, the town had started evacuating some of the mobile homes near the river. Alan’s home would have been first on the list. Rosie wondered where Farrah would take her family to stay. The married women in town knew better than to invite Farrah to stay with them. She would flirt with any man who stood still in her vicinity, and she’d broken up at least two marriages because of it. Rosie hoped Destry hadn’t taken her in.
She pulled on her jeans and headed out to the kitchen where her mom was heating Grandma’s cast iron griddle on the stove. Azalea wore a brown peasant shirt with a necklace of wooden beads and sang some old song about islands in the stream. She seemed a little too chipper.
“What are you doing up?” Rosie asked, eyeing some batter in a mixing bowl. Pancakes were exactly what she’d been craving—a nice big stack like her grandma used to make.
Azalea dropped a square of butter onto the griddle. “Mike’s supposed to come eat breakfast with us before I go back to Albuquerque. I don’t know if he’ll make it, though. The weather report says there’s record flooding.”
Rosie glanced toward the television set on the counter. “I wonder if they’ll cancel the first day of school.”
“They haven’t said anything about that.”
She went to check on Grandpa. As she suspected, he was already awake. Since his last set of X-rays, the orthopedic doctor had put him in a walking cast and allowed him to use his walker instead of his wheelchair to get around his bedroom. He was already dressed and trying to put a work boot on his good foot.
“I better check on the turkeys,” he said. “Make sure their roof isn’t leaking.” Grandpa had never been in favor of Rosie owning turkeys. The truth was, he believed the old myth that turkeys could drown in the rain, so he got hungry for turkey dinner every time rain hit the roof.
She shook her head. “Do you really want to take another trip to the hospital in this storm?” She tossed Grandpa’s work boot back into the closet and put a slipper on his good foot.
“Slippers!” he grumbled. “Next thing you know, I’ll be wearing one of them silky nightgowns.”
“That one you wore at the hospital was real cute too,” she retorted. She helped him into the wheelchair and pushed him to the kitchen.
Mike was coming in the front door when they arrived at the table. He wore a long rain coat that made him look like he’d stepped out of an old Western movie. “It’s coming down fast and furious. The roads are the worst I’ve seen.”
“Maybe you should get going early, Rosie” her mom said. “Mike and I can milk the cows and all that.” Rosie had only seen her mother milk a cow once. It had been more of a yanking than a milking.
Rosie pulled on her mud boots and Grandpa’s old raincoat while Azalea smothered Mike with kisses. He grinned. “I feel like I’ve won the lottery.”
“I’ll be back in a minute” Rosie said, opening the door, but, between the
news broadcast and the kissing, no one seemed to hear her.
Outside, rain pounded onto their gravel driveway, turning it into a giant mud puddle. As soon as she opened the door to go outside, Cheddar came in—a sure sign that the weather was terrible. Her cat Clementine wouldn’t be happy about Cheddar being inside, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. She sloshed through the puddles to check on the turkeys first. So far, there was only a little drip in the corner of their pen. She gave them extra food, in case, for some reason, she got stranded at the high school later on. She did the same with the other animals.
After splashing back to the house, the smell of bacon and pancakes greeted her. Her stomach growling, she changed into the jean skirt she’d picked out the night before. Her mom was just putting pancakes on the table. “Come and eat before you go.”
Rosie sat down. There was always time for pancakes and bacon. Clementine glared up at her from under the table, hoping someone might drop a scrap of bacon for her. Rosie wolfed down two pancakes and three strips of bacon while Grandpa delivered a lecture on flood safety. “If the water’s too deep on the road, go around the loop through Morrisville. And be careful when you stop. The tires on that old car aren’t what they used to be.”
“Azalea and I can drive her,” Mike said, “if that’ll make you feel better.”
Rosie hurried to swallow. “It won’t be the first time I’ve had to drive in heavy rain. I can handle it. I will take Mom up on that offer to milk the cows, though.” She stood up from the table and headed toward the stack of boxes she had by the door. “Thanks for breakfast.”
Azalea rushed to get a plastic container from the cupboard. “Wait a second. I’ll pack some extras for your lunch.” She put some pancakes and bacon in the container along with a pat of butter and some syrup.
“Let me help you with the boxes,” Mike said, opening the door for her. Unlike the other men her mom had dated, he actually seemed useful.
Chemistry Lessons Page 9