Ranch at River’s End

by Brenda Mott

  But then, she probably wasn’t the type to do that anyway. Darci seemed like a strong, confident woman who took matters into her own hands.

  You want her to call.

  The voice inside his head taunted him as he deactivated the alarm and called out to Michaela that he was home.

  Darci had looked vulnerable as she sat in the exam room with a head injury, though. She obviously wasn’t cut out to work in the E.R. admittance. Maybe she’d get a job elsewhere and then he could stop thinking about her.

  Besides—he hadn’t been interested in a woman since Sandra had died. No point in starting now.

  “Mac!” he called again, using the nickname his daughter preferred.

  “In the kitchen, Dad.”

  She was at the table, eating a frozen yogurt and working on her laptop. The way her head was tilted, with her long, light brown hair caught up in a ponytail, she looked so much like her mother.

  Jordan’s chest tightened.

  “Is that homework?” She was allowed online, but with limited access.

  He had to protect his daughter.

  Michaela nodded. “I’m writing a report on the opening chapter of a book we’re reading.” She rolled her eyes. “Why do teachers always make us read boring things instead of something we’d actually like?”

  “Good question.” He bent and kissed the top of her head. “One that kids asked even in my generation.”

  “They had books back then?”

  “Very funny. What’s this?” He picked up a piece of paper from the countertop. A flyer about parent-teacher meetings and an open house being held at the school a week from Tuesday.

  “It’s a welcome-to-the-school-year thing,” Michaela said. “Sorta lame, but I guess we’re supposed to go.”

  “They’re serving refreshments,” he said. “At least we can score some cookies.”

  Michaela returned his grin. “You’ll like my homeroom teacher. She’s cool.”

  “Awesome. Can’t wait. How about we go out on the boat this weekend?”

  “Cool! Can Jenny come? We want to check out some new horse magazines.”

  The cabin cruiser slept four, and Michaela’s best friend often came along on overnight excursions as well as day trips.

  “We’ll see. Right now, why don’t you just worry about what you want on your pizza.”

  “We’re going to Trail Inn?”

  Restaurants in River’s End were a scarce commodity, but Trail Inn was the best pizza joint within fifty miles, and his daughter’s favorite. “You’d better know it,” Jordan said. “As soon as I change out of my scrubs.”

  “And after I check on Chewy again.” The stray dog Mac had begged him to take in that summer had come with a surprise—puppies, born a week ago.

  The medium-sized, red-and-white dog had turned out to be a blessing. Caring for Chewy and her puppies had been the best form of therapy for Michaela—something that made his little girl smile more than she had since her mother’s death. And Chewy was a good watchdog—something he’d wanted to get Mac, though he’d been a little leery of the more aggressive breeds.

  Chewy had quickly become a spoiled family member, temporarily distracting Mac from her obsession with horses. She’d been trying to talk Jordan into buying her a horse like her friend Jenny’s, which Michaela wanted to ride. Her hip injury would likely never get much better, and Jordan was worried that a fall from a horse might make it worse.

  “I’ll run next door and say thanks to Louise.” The neighbor kept an eye out for Michaela, even kept his daughter at her house at times, when Jordan wasn’t home. “Then we’re off. We can swing by and rent a couple of DVDs—heck, it’s Friday night. I’ll even watch The Sisterhood of the Traveling Trousers again.”

  Friday nights had always been pizza and movie night for Mac and Sandra.

  “Da-ad.” His daughter snickered. “It’s Traveling Pants, and there’s a part two, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know. Hey—even better. We can watch both of them.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” she said, quirking her mouth into a crooked little pucker—a Sandra habit. “And I love you for it, Dad. Thanks.” But her eyes held sadness.

  “I love you, too, snicker-doodle.”

  AS SOON AS JORDAN DRAKE had finished tending to her injury, Darci had insisted on going right back to work, but Shirley demanded she take it easy. “You just watch me work, and you’ll get the hang of things,” the older woman said. “We’ll worry about the details when you’re feeling better.”

  Things had been fairly slow for the rest of the morning, though they picked up in the afternoon. By the time four-thirty rolled around, Darci was ready to go home. She was tired, her head was throbbing, and she was worried about Christopher. She’d asked Stella to keep an eye on him at the ranch after school until she could make other arrangements, and Chris had been furious.

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” he’d said. “I’m old enough to stay home alone for a couple of hours.”

  “Yes, you are,” Darci had told him. “But age and privilege are two different things, and you’re going to have to earn my trust before I leave you by yourself.”

  “Whatever. Just do me a favor, and don’t ask old lady Bataway to watch me.”

  Their neighbor, Eileen Hathaway, was a busybody and overprotective of her enormous dog, a Newfoundland.

  “Disrespect isn’t going to help you any. And I’m sure there’s not enough money in the bank to get Mrs. Hathaway to babysit you anyway.”

  Now as she drove toward the Shadow S Ranch in a wind-blown sprinkling of rain, she hoped Christopher hadn’t given Aunt Stella a hard time. Of course, if he had, Stella would likely put a boot to his butt. Maybe that was what he needed. Maybe she’d been so busy worrying over everything that had happened in Northglenn that she hadn’t been hard enough on him.

  Lord knows she’d experienced her share of anger and frustration. Yet she’d made a huge effort to tamp her feelings down and cave in to Christopher’s wants and needs. No more, though. She was through being Mommy Doormat.

  Maybe Nina Drake could give her some helpful guidance when she saw Christopher on Thursday. Darci had requested a few minutes of the appointment time for her and Dr. Drake to talk.

  At the ranch house, Darci rapped on the front door, then pushed it open, glad to get out of the wet weather. Immediately she was treated to the smell of home cooking. Stella and Leon’s dog—a big cream-colored mutt of undetermined heritage—greeted her with wagging tail. “Hey, Jake.” She scratched the dog behind his ears. In the kitchen, she found Stella at the stove, Chris and Leon nowhere in sight.

  “Hi, Aunt Stella. Where’s Chris?”

  “Doing his homework in the den. How was your first day?” Then she noticed the butterfly clamps and frowned, taking hold of Darci and steering her toward the window, where she could see the wound better. “Lands sakes, what happened to you?”

  Darci shrugged sheepishly. “I fainted. It’s no big deal. I’m fine.”

  “Fainted? What happened? Here, sit down and put your feet up. Want something to drink?”

  “Aunt Stella, I’m fine, really.” But Darci obliged her aunt, kicking off her heels and propping her feet on a kitchen chair. She twisted the cap off the Diet Coke Stella set in front of her and took a long swig.

  Her aunt demanded all the details, and Darci was halfway through her story when Christopher came out of the den and headed for the fridge.

  She turned to face her thirteen-year-old son, who was nearly as tall as she was. He needed a haircut. His shaggy brown mop, the ends dyed black, hung in his eyes. Green eyes like his father’s. The man who’d left them a year ago without looking back.

  “Pull up your jeans,” Darci said. Normally, she would’ve let Chris’s sagging pants hang beneath his boxers without comment. Pick your battles, Darci. Their former counselor’s advice. But today she was in no mood to be conciliatory.

  “They won’t stay anyway.”

&
nbsp; “That’s what your belt is for.

  He grinned. “You actually fainted at work? Bet that went over big—passing out in the E.R.”

  “Hey, it’s not funny.” Then Darci softened. “Okay, maybe a little. I was pretty embarrassed.” Especially when she’d had to undergo Jordan’s ministrations.

  “Don’t eat too much,” Stella scolded as Chris rummaged around for a snack. “I’ve got a pot of chili cooking.”

  “You didn’t have to cook for us,” Darci said.

  “No big deal, kid. I figured you’d be tuckered, and Leon went to a lodge meeting so it was just gonna be me and a TV dinner. Now I’m doubly glad I threw something together, seeing as how you’re the walking wounded.” She nudged her niece’s knee affectionately as she passed by the chair where Darci had propped her legs.

  “I love your chili, so I’m not going to protest too much,” Darci said. Stella used three kinds of beans, plus lots of chopped celery, onions and garlic.

  Chris turned from the fridge with an apple and a wedge of cheese. “Save some of that for the chili.” She indicated the cheddar. “You getting your homework done?”

  He wrinkled his nose as he sliced off a chunk of cheese on the cutting board Stella had been using. “We have to write a report for environmental studies on how we can be green at school. I’m about three pages short of the required four.”

  “I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” Darci said, glad to see he was actually settling back into public school after homeschooling for the final semester of last year. “Do you like your teachers so far?”

  He shrugged. “They’re okay. Oh, yeah, that reminds me.” Stuffing the cheese into his mouth, he dragged his backpack off a chair. “There’s a parent-teacher thing coming up.” He rummaged in his pack and handed her the flyer. “Do we have to go?”

  “Well, if it’s parent-teacher, I don’t see why you should have to…oh, wait,” Darci said. “They’re having an open house. And the skate park behind the school will be open, too. Says there’ll be plenty of adult supervision. You should go, Chris. It’ll be fun.”

  “Oh, Mom.” He slumped as if she’d shot him with a poison dart. “I don’t need to go to the skate park with a bunch of teacher’s aides watching my every move.”

  “Come on, Christopher,” Stella said. “Listen to your mom. If you don’t want to take your skateboard, at least you can see what the school looks like at night…show your mom your locker, visit with your friends.”

  “Trust me,” he said, “I don’t have any friends.”

  “Well, then this will be a good way to make some.” Stella stirred the pot of chili. “I always thought it was fun to be at school at nighttime.”

  “You’re going,” Darci said, remembering her earlier resolve to stop coddling him.

  “Fine. I’ll be in the den doing my slave work if anyone needs me.”

  Stella chuckled once he’d gone. “Kids. They make everything so dramatic.”

  Then she sobered, as if remembering just how dramatic things had gotten back at North Star Middle School in Northglenn.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DARCI THANKED AUNT STELLA for the chili, and for watching Chris, then hurried out to the car after him. It had begun to rain harder now, quarter-sized drops pattering down in cold splashes against her skin as she rushed toward her red Chevy Cavalier.

  Christopher sat in the front seat, listening to his iPod. It was one of the privileges he’d recently earned back for good behavior. Darci shoved the container of leftovers Aunt Stella had sent with them into his lap before sliding behind the wheel. The windshield wipers swished out a steady rhythm as she drove, making her way down the county road and on through town. She hadn’t gone more than the few blocks that made up the downtown area, when she spotted a familiar figure at the side of the road.

  Jordan Drake stood next to a black Ford Explorer, examining a flat rear tire.

  Oh, dear. Should she stop? Or did he have things under control?

  Darci glanced in her rearview mirror and saw him kick the flat in frustration, then head back toward the driver’s door. No spare? She supposed he could walk to the gas station, but it wasn’t in her to ignore someone in need of help, and besides, who wanted to walk in the rain?

  Beside her, Christopher paid no attention to the fact that Darci had slowed the car. His head nodded to the beat of what was likely Southern-country-rock—his favorite. She turned into the parking lot of a church, flipped a U-turn and headed back out onto Main Street.

  Christopher frowned, pulling off one earbud. “Hey, where are you going, Mom?”

  “To help someone,” she said.

  “Huh?” He yanked out the other earbud. “But I want to get home and watch TV.” His favorite reality show was coming on, another privilege he’d regained.

  “Chris, we can’t leave someone stranded at the side of the road.”

  “But you’re always telling me it’s not smart to stop for strangers.”

  “He’s not a stranger. I work with him—well, sort of.” She wrinkled her nose, remembering the way Jordan’s hands had felt as he’d tended to her head injury.

  “Whatever.” Chris rolled his eyes and bounced back against the seat.

  Suddenly, Darci remembered seeing a similar black SUV parked down the street from her and Chris’s place, in front of the blue split-level. The one with a neatly landscaped front yard she envied, and a couple of acres behind it. At least, it looked like the same SUV, with an Honor Student bumper sticker.

  Darci pulled up beside the Ford and rolled down her window.

  “Hi,” she said. “Need some help?”

  Jordan looked sheepish. “Thanks, we’re fine.”

  Darci noted he had a little girl—his daughter?—with him. The kid was cute, with long, light brown hair and big blue eyes.

  “You don’t look fine,” Darci said.

  He shrugged. “I picked up a nail—” he gestured toward the flat “—and, uh, apparently I didn’t maintain my spare tire very well. It’s low on air.” He glared at his cell phone. “And I’m not getting a signal in this spot for whatever reason.”

  “Mountains,” Darci said, pointing to the surrounding peaks. “My service comes and goes in the oddest places.”

  “Reception’s normally pretty good here.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s the weather.”

  “Need a lift to the gas station?”

  “It’s closed.” He grunted. “Believe it or not, Harry—the owner—took off for the Labor Day holiday weekend to go fishing. You’d think he’d stick around for the tourists coming through.”

  “How about the convenience store? They have an air pump, don’t they?”

  Jordan’s face went instantly pale, and Darci thought for a minute he was going to pull the same fainting stunt she had done in the E.R. earlier.

  “You okay?”

  “Not there,” he said.

  “Pardon?”

  “I don’t use the convenience store.”

  “O-kay. Oh, wait. I forgot. I’ve got a portable compressor in my trunk.” She’d bought it for the four-hour road trip when she and Chris had moved here. “I’ll pump up your spare for you.”

  “I’ll do it,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “Okay. Let me turn around and park. Be right back.” Once more, Darci drove down the street and found a place to change direction, then pulled in behind Jordan.

  A honey locust tree grew near the edge of the curb where she’d parked, its overhanging branches offering shelter from the steady rain. That way she could leave the windows down to let in some air. The rain had turned the August evening muggy. “If it gets too stuffy in here, Chris, you can get out,” she said.

  “Can’t I walk home?”

  “No. You can wait. Stop being rude.”

  “Whatever.” He stuck his earbuds in and slumped down in the seat again.

  From her trunk, Darci retrieved the portable air compressor. Compact in size, it plugged into a vehicle’s cigarette lighter
. Still, Jordan reached to take it for her as she neared the Explorer. His hand brushed hers, and Darci bit her lip.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Michaela and I appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” She grinned. “It’s the least I can do to return the favor of you stitching up my noggin.”

  He chuckled, and the sound washed over her, much warmer than the rain.

  Jordan had lowered the spare tire rack from underneath the vehicle and removed the thick-treaded radial, laying it on its side. While he hooked up the compressor to an accessory adaptor beneath the SUV’s dashboard, Darci clamped the air hose onto the spare. As she straightened back up, she glanced inside the vehicle and frowned. The huge SUV was equipped with enough seats for seven people, yet they were all folded down, except for the two up front. It was as though Jordan Drake and his daughter were the only people who rode in it. Did he have a wife? she wondered again.

  The cargo area was practically bare, other than a couple of odds and ends—a small tool box, a pair of kids’ tennis shoes, a rope like the kind you might use on a boat.

  Odd.

  Why would anyone bother to drive such a big, environmentally unfriendly vehicle if they weren’t going to utilize its potential? Darci realized Michaela was staring at her over the back of the passenger seat, and she smiled at the girl, giving her a small wave. Michaela smiled back shyly and returned the wave with a lift of her hand, then turned to face forward once again.

  Darci couldn’t help but notice the scar on the child’s face and wondered what had happened. Had she been in a car accident? Cute kid. She seemed about Christopher’s age.

  “Looks kind of bare, doesn’t it?”

  Jordan’s voice startled her as he stepped up beside Darci.

  She hadn’t meant to be nosy. “No—it—I was just admiring your SUV.”

  He gestured toward the folded up seats. “Michaela and I are the only ones who usually ride in it.”

  The words were casual, but his voice sounded oddly strained, and Darci couldn’t help but wonder if there was something he wasn’t saying. Just because he and his daughter were the only two who used the SUV didn’t mean he had to fold the other seats down, did it? Darci found the situation odd but shrugged it off.