“Not my sister’s boys. She trained to be a hair stylist once.”
“I see.”
Hefting her suitcase, he waited while she locked the door. “You really should do something with that plant.”
She shrugged. “Looks fine to me.”
“It’s dead.”
“What are you, a farm boy?” She thought it was amusing that a farm boy had worked his way up a corporate ladder to be the sales manager of a sizable firm. Though the store chain might be small potatoes when compared with the industry giants, it was still impressive.
“That’s right. I’m a farm boy, through and through. You hungry?”
“No, I ate something.”
“I’m stopping for a bite, if you don’t mind. If I can find a place that’s open for breakfast.”
“I know a place.”
He opened the door to his truck, and while she climbed in next to several plastic grocery bags filled with snacks, he set her suitcase in the truck bed next to his own. They drove to her favorite McDonald’s and then on to the freeway. “Fastest way is through Utah. Ever been there?”
She nodded. “My brother—not Christian but Bret—has a cabin in the mountains there. Uses it to ski in the winter.”
“Oh, where?”
“Near a place called Sundance. I only went there once. It’s very beautiful.”
“Still cold I bet, this time of year.”
They fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence. Beyond the window the Nevada landscape flew by, buildings gradually falling away to long stretches of uninhabited land. The sun emerged from the east, crawling slowly up the cloudless blue sky. As Liana stared at it, a vision of another sun-washed landscape superimposed itself in her mind, one from before, when her parents had been alive. Along with it came an overwhelming sense of loss and anger. Tears stung her eyes like acid.
“Uh, Liana.” Austin’s voice shattered the unwelcome memory. “You’re ringing. At least I think you are.”
Shaking thoughts of the past from her head, she rummaged in her oversized black handbag for her cell phone. She smiled her thanks but didn’t look at him directly, afraid he’d see the emotion in her face. “Hello?” she said into her phone. She glanced furtively at Austin and was relieved that he was concentrating on his driving and not on her.
“Hi, it’s Christian. I got the message you left last night on my cell. What’s this about going to Wyoming with Austin? I got the impression you didn’t like the guy.”
“It’s business.” She switched the phone to her other ear so there would be no chance for Austin to overhear Christian. “I’ve agreed to do some accounting work for his charity, and we’re going to get the paperwork in Wyoming.”
“You’re driving? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Cheaper than flying. It’s a charity, remember?” She felt more than saw Austin nod his head. “Besides, we have a load of paperwork to bring back.”
“I guess. But all that time alone with Austin?” The amusement in his voice came through loud and clear.
“Gotta pay the bills.”
“Oh, I see. Does this have anything to do with the car problem you mentioned? Do you need help? Look, I don’t have a lot saved, but it’s yours if you need it. Better yet, you could come and live with me.”
“And get stuck cooking and doing your laundry? You’re crazy.”
“I mean it. If you need help—”
“Everything’s fine,” she assured him. “I’m a big girl, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, yeah? I’m not too sure about that. Tell me, what do you have in the pocket of your blouse?”
Liana’s hand went instinctively to the front jacket pocket of her brown stretch denim outfit where she carried the photograph of her parents. “I’m not wearing a blouse with a pocket.” Underneath the jacket she wore a snug polyester T-shirt, but he was right at least about the photo. Though she no longer carried the picture around every day, there was no way she’d leave town without it.
“Whatever. I know you have it with you.” His voice had become gentle, bringing a lump to her throat that she could not swallow.
She was tempted to hang up on him. “Is that wrong?”
“No. But it tells me . . . forget it. Let me talk to Austin.”
“I’ll give him a message. Wouldn’t want him to get into an accident or anything while he’s driving.” No way would she let them talk about her. “Well?”
“Never mind.”
Just as she’d thought.
“Take care of yourself,” he said. “And try to have a little fun, eh?” With that he ended the connection.
Liana returned the phone to her purse. “Big brother Christian,” she said.
Austin laughed. “I hear you. Mercedes is just as bad.”
“Thing is, I’m the one who keeps bailing him out.” She leaned back more comfortably and adjusted her seatbelt. “Last year he invested in some multilevel scam. Then there were those people selling bogus stock. Before that it was a swimming pool he tried to put in the first floor of his rental house. The owners weren’t too happy.”
“Inside the house?”
“Yes, inside.”
He laughed. “Sounds like Christian. Have to admit, Mercedes isn’t anything like that. I never have to bail her out. But she does always try to use psychology on me to find out how I’m feeling. Kind of annoying.”
Liana arched a brow. “I thought you said she studied hair dressing.”
“Yep. And psychology, retail management, building contracting, and even animal medicine. She has a lot of interests.”
“But she ended up back at your parents’ farm.”
“She loves it there.” He glanced from the road to her and back again. “Besides, there was no one to take over when my dad couldn’t do it anymore. She married the hired man and settled down to raising grain, calves, and babies.”
There was something he wasn’t telling her, but Liana couldn’t begin to fathom what. “So where’s your father now?”
“In Rock Springs.” His voice was clipped. “Now how about some good music?” He reached for the radio.
“Oh, no. I am not driving thirteen hours listening to that country twang you forced me to hear the other night. I brought some real music, the good old kind. Ever hear of Foreigner?” When he grimaced, she added. “Don’t worry, I brought along Chicago and Cory Hart for a change of pace.”
“Weren’t those all before your time? I know they’re before mine.”
She shrugged. “I hung out a lot with Christian.”
“That explains it.” Then he asked hopefully, “Any Neil Diamond?”
“Not a chance. But I do have some Air Supply that you might—just might—be able to talk me into playing.”
“Well, there’s something.” He put his hand over the CD player. “Tell you what. I’ll listen to your music now if you promise to listen to mine later.”
“I guess it’s only fair,” she conceded. “But don’t expect me to sing along.”
CHAPTER 9
Diary of Karyn Olsen
Thursday, March 7, 1966
Travis wouldn’t come over, even when I told him about my dad being in the hospital, because he had a test to study for. He reminds me of Clari (she couldn’t take me either because she had to teach), always so responsible. It makes me so sad to think of my father all alone in the hospital, not being able to speak because of the stroke. Of course Lydia is probably there, but that’s not the same thing as your daughters. Don’t Travis and Clari know that sometimes PEOPLE should come first? Yes, there are deadlines and tests and bridges to be built, but the most important bridges should be between people.
Thinking back, I’ve been much like Travis and Clari my whole life. I’ve always wanted to reach out, to do something incredibly important to help people, but what have I accomplished in the end? I’ve been too shy to do much of anything except study and get good grades. I wonder now if I’ve ever turned aside someone who needed me.
I must be more careful. That’s partly why I chose to go into nursing. Deep inside, I hope nursing might help me do something that connects with people on a whole new level. Will it? I don’t know. I only know that I love Travis. Maybe nothing else is important.
“Are you sure Wyoming has any farm country?” Liana asked, doubtfully eyeing the passing terrain. “It looks more like desert to me. Not even weeds dare to grow.”
Austin understood what she meant. During the past several hours of traveling, there had been miles and miles of nothing but flat gray sagebrush. “Once we get closer to the Wind River Valley, everything will change.”
“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” She hefted a CD in her hand. “Kenny Rogers?”
He fought a smile. “Sure.”
The hours had flown by more rapidly than Austin had thought possible. As the miles fell behind them, so had much of Liana’s sternness. By the time they had reached Utah, she had agreed to listen to his CD of Kenny Rogers’ greatest hits. And now she had requested it again. Her preferred song on the CD seemed to be “Lucille,” a song he’d never cared for. On the other hand, she didn’t like his favorite “Lady”—probably because of the bit about being a knight in shining armor—which made her roll her eyes. Austin was almost sorry they were making such good time. He’d always had a bit of a lead foot, and the short stops they’d made along the way for food and gas hadn’t caused much delay. But there was always the drive back to Nevada.
The clock had ticked barely past seven-thirty when Austin pulled up to his sister’s ranch-style house northeast of Riverton, Wyoming. The sun had set nearly an hour ago, but the western sky was still radiating light. Liana could now sing every word of Kenny Rogers’ “Coward of the County.”
The low-slung farmhouse was bordered by several tall shade trees. A small grove of fruit trees grew to the right of the house out past the garden, and beyond them sat another gathering of shade trees in the distance where the small family cemetery had stood for generations. For miles on either side of the house and trees stretched row after row of neatly plowed earth. And somewhere beyond the fields lay the large corral and the area Mercedes and Wayne had turned into grazing land to try their hands at raising a hundred head of cattle. Austin’s eyes drank it in eagerly. There was something about this land that knew him, that somehow reconciled the confident, successful man he was now with the scared, frightened boy he had been. The free-roaming, laughing boy he’d been. The abused boy who had rebelled and run away to college and made good. Only here were they all present. Here was his heart—tucked safely away from his daily existence in Nevada.
He rounded the truck, but Liana had already opened the door and jumped down. Her eyes wandered over the house, the yard, and the fields. “Welcome to Walker Farm,” he said, a little proudly. “Ah-oh. Here comes the welcome wagon.” Their arrival had not gone unnoticed. Three red retrievers appeared from the side of the house, bounding toward them, barking at the top of their lungs.
Liana stepped back a little. “Don’t worry. They won’t hurt you.” He went down on one knee in front of her to greet the dogs. “Hi, guys,” he said. “And lady,” he nodded at the smaller of the three. “Liana, this one is Di—named for Princess Diana. This big guy here is Thunder, and this last is their son, Jellybean.” Austin made an apologetic face. “He had another name once, can’t remember what, something more dignified, but he loves jellybeans—any sugar, really. As long as you have something to give him, he’s your friend. Doesn’t matter who you are. Yep, something of a disappointment to his noble parents.”
“He’s cute.” Liana bent over, gingerly offering several fingers. Jellybean licked them eagerly before pushing his head into her hands. His parents were more reserved, regarding her with thinly veiled suspicion.
“They’ll warm up to you,” Austin said, rising. “So where are the others?”
Liana shrugged and then colored. “Oh, you’re talking to the dogs. Austin, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think they’ll talk back.”
“Maybe not. But they can show us where to go. Obviously no one’s at the house or they’d have seen us by now. Come on, Thunder, Di, find Mercedes.” He took a step toward the side of the house.
As if understanding, the dogs bolted, only to come halfway back, bark enthusiastically, and run ahead again, encouraging the slower humans to follow. Ignoring the excitement of his parents, Jellybean stayed with Liana and Austin, sniffing their pant legs hopefully. Liana produced a chocolate-covered mint from her jacket pocket, which he downed with one gulp, waging his tail for more. “Be careful,” Austin warned. “You’ll never get rid of him.”
She smiled—a real smile that he had seen her use only with her brother. “Maybe that’s not so bad.”
Maybe it’s not, he thought.
The dogs led them to the spacious backyard where a swing set made with huge logs graced a patch of scruffy grass. “That’s the biggest swing set I ever saw,” Liana said.
“We do things right on a farm. No wimpy stuff for us.”
She shook her head. “I think all this fresh air is getting to you.”
He laughed. “Good thing, too.”
Beyond the swing set was a small barn and a connecting corral. To the right of the barn was the large garden where his sister grew vegetables to eat fresh or to can for later. Rows of peas that he had helped her plant weeks ago were already springing from the earth. He could almost taste them, could almost see a little boy filling his pockets with the fat pods and munching them as he sat on the wide branch in the old oak by the river.
“What kind of fruit do they grow?” Liana asked, motioning toward the small fruit orchard beyond the garden.
“Apples mostly. We also have some pears and cherries, but they have to be a rather hardy variety to grow here. The cherries are called North Star, or something like that. My sister planted an apricot, but it does poorly. They don’t look like much now, but in a few weeks, they’ll be completely green. As a boy, it was always such a miracle to me. One night I’d go to sleep and the leaf buds wouldn’t have opened, and then the next morning, boom, they’d be out. I could never catch them at it.”
She gave him another real smile for his efforts, and Austin began to feel a little lightheaded. Because of the fresh air, he told himself. That’s all.
They could hear voices as they approached the barn, low but excited. “Now, Darrel,” a woman said, “stop teasing your brothers. They’re still feeling sick.”
“Aw, Mom, they should be in bed if they’re sick.”
“And miss Buttercup’s babies?”
“I don’t care how sick I am, Darrel, I ain’t gonna miss this.”
“Me neither.”
“Boys,” warned the woman, and immediately there was silence. Even the dogs, who had disappeared inside the barn became quiet.
Then the woman spoke. “Here it comes.”
Without thinking, Austin reached for Liana’s hand. “Hurry,” he urged. They entered the barn, blinking as their eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside. In the nearest stall they found Mercedes and her three sons kneeling around a small animal.
“It’s a goat, isn’t it?” Liana whispered to Austin as they stared over the gate into the stall.
He grinned. “Of course it’s a goat.”
She shrugged. “I never saw one before, except on TV.”
“It’s not just any goat. It’s Mercedes’ baby. Name’s Butter cup.”
Mercedes looked up and saw them. “Austin,” she said, her voice glad but low. “You made it just in time.”
“Hey, Uncle Austin,” chimed his nephews together. Austin smiled and nodded at them, but they were too busy watching the goat to pay him much attention.
The brown-haired mother goat strained, bleating softly. With her gloved hands, Mercedes gently helped the new baby’s head from the tight confines of his mother’s narrow body. Austin heard Liana gasp softly beside him, and he tightened his hold on her hand to echo the feelings. He had seen animal
s born hundreds of times since his boyhood, but every time seemed new to him—what a miracle it was that something could grow and survive inside another living being and emerge healthy and unharmed.
The newcomer slipped his way completely free, falling into the fresh straw, supported by Mercedes’ hands. She began to rub the dark gray coat with a blanket, but Buttercup turned quickly and began to lick her baby, stripping the remains of the sack that had protected it in the womb.
“Another girl,” Mercedes said. Still on her knees, she felt Buttercup’s sides. “Yep, that’s it. It’s all over, little mother. You did good. We just need the afterbirth now, and then you can rest.” She looked up. “Austin, can you keep an eye on what she’s doing with the baby while I take care of the placenta? She’s a first-time mommy, and I want to make sure she knows what to do.”
“Sure.” Austin became aware that he was still holding Liana’s hand. Letting it go, he pushed the dogs aside and let himself slowly into the stall. He squatted close to the baby goat.
“Sometimes it takes a while for the afterbirth,” Mercedes said. “Darrel, you can let the other baby go now. Nursing will help it come.”
Austin glanced at his oldest nephew, who was sitting importantly in the straw on the far side of the stall. In his lap was another tiny baby goat, her coat a shiny dark brown like her mother’s, though it was streaked with gray near her tail. Darrel released his hold on the baby, who wobbled to her feet, bleating. Buttercup bleated back. In a matter of seconds the baby found her mother’s teat and began nursing.
“Twins,” breathed Liana. “They’re so tiny.”
“Goats often have twins and even triplets,” Austin told her.
The second baby goat was on wobbly legs now, urged by her mother. Her gray face looked almost comical with its white and brown markings. Adding to the effect, the fine gray hair of her coat had already begun to dry in places, standing up on end. Austin felt an urge to pick up the baby, but he knew it was best to let the mother follow her instincts. At last Mercedes sat back on her heels. “Ah, there we go. We’re really finished now.”
She climbed to her feet and pulled off her gloves, tossing them into an old bucket. She was a thin, tall, strong-looking woman, whose dark hair was drawn back into a short braid. Her skin was freckled and tanned with exposure to the sun, though she had few wrinkles. Her wide mouth seemed strained to Austin as she smiled, but the warmth in her black eyes was unmistakable. She checked her hands and then threw her arms around him. He hugged her back.
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