Home on the Range

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Not like, love. I’ve looked at this hat every time I’ve gone into Hammerstein’s. I’ve tried it on twice, but I knew it would blow my budget out of the water. Nick, you shouldn’t have. Really.”

  “Says the woman who just helped deliver nine pricey puppies. I figured I owed you something, darlin’.”

  “You called Elsa darlin’!” Dakota half-screeched. “You love her!”

  “When you’re really good friends, sometimes you use sweet nicknames like that,” Elsa explained logically.

  “Do you like it so much, Elsa? A lot?” Cheyenne leaned up, which meant her seat belt wasn’t snugged as tight as it should have been. “It looks amazing on you.”

  “Tighten your seat belt,” she scolded, then turned so Cheyenne could see the hat better. “You think?”

  Cheyenne snugged the belt and nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah, the turquoise and silver go with your eyes. It’s so pretty!”

  “Chey’s right. It looks great on you.”

  “But I can’t wear it into the dance recital,” Elsa noted as Nick pulled up into the student drop-off loop. “I’ll leave it here, and then I’ll wear it all around the ranch.”

  “Today and tomorrow? And every day?” The innocence of Dakota’s question hung in the air.

  “Well, I’m not promising every day,” Elsa said. “But I do love hanging out with you guys.”

  “Church tomorrow?” Nick asked as he met Elsa around the back of the car. “Because I’d like that. A lot.”

  “I’d be honored. As long as BeeBee’s not in the middle of whelping.”

  The sincerity of her words stirred his heart.

  She’d be honored to be with him. With them.

  A future he’d once discounted spread out before him. A future with Elsa and the girls. He’d been down for so long that feeling happy and expectant almost felt wrong, but it wasn’t wrong. He knew that. He knew it was time to let God take the lead and believe in the goodness again.

  He leaned down, swept a quick kiss to Elsa’s mouth, then kissed each of the girls. “I’ll see you inside. I’m going to grab seats on the left side after I park the car.”

  “I’ll find you.”

  She would, too, because honest women like Elsa meant what they said, and Nick hadn’t had that, well…ever. The change went beyond refreshing to just plain, old-fashioned nice. And he was okay with that.

  The high school auditorium filled quickly. Parents and grandparents, siblings, aunts and uncles, friends, and neighbors all congregated at the high school on dance recital day. Refreshments were sold in the spacious cafeteria, and area vendors manned displays of goods and services aimed at dance moms and the community in general. Merchants understood that dads were more likely to hand over money or plastic for their princess performers on recital day, and the thickening crowd buzzed with anticipation, conversation, and gossip.

  “Elsa, I can’t find my —”

  “Bright pink ribbon? The one pinned to your outfit?”

  Cheyenne made a face. “Sorry!”

  “Uh-huh. Come here, let me tie this around the bun.” Elsa looked at one of Cheyenne’s fellow students, studied the bow, then frowned. “I’m not sure how she rigged that.” She tried twice, failed, then waved another mother their way. “Can you show me how to make that knot? Mine comes out looking more like a pretzel than a bow.”

  “Sure.” The mother had Cheyenne sit, wove the ribbon around, down, up, and through, then back. “There we are.”

  “I am forever in your debt,” Elsa told her. A distant door creaked open, and the sounds of Maroon 5 came through softly. “That’s the older girls. Dakota’s crew will be next, you’re up in three numbers, then you’ve got a break. I’ll meet you back here, okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Elsa!”

  “You’re welcome, honey.” Cheyenne’s group moved out to line up backstage.

  Elsa hauled in a deep breath.

  She’d stayed out of schools purposely for years. Working in classrooms, picking up kids for counseling, and meeting with team professionals to discuss a child’s issues had been a regular part of her day as a push-in consult in Brant Park.

  Facing school halls, classrooms, and lunchrooms had dredged up a past she’d tried to bury, but the old anxiety didn’t rise up strong today. She felt good being here for Cheyenne and Dakota. As if she belonged. And tonight she’d tell Nick and let the pieces fall into place. No matter how he reacted, she would take each step forward, knowing she was on more solid ground.

  For the moment she pushed it all aside. This was a day for pleasure and normalcy. A day to celebrate. She hurried, eager to join Nick and the family. Dakota should be lined up, Cheyenne was with her troupe, and Elsa should have about a half hour to sit with Nick and whatever Staffords had made it into town. And then back to a costume change for Cheyenne.

  Dancers flitted in and out of classroom dressing rooms. Fairies, ballerinas, and street punks joined preschool zebra-looking creatures. So cute, fresh, and innocent.

  She moved through the propped-open access door, tiptoed down the carpeted aisle, and spotted Nick. They’d saved a seat for her on the outside of the row, an easy spot to access when costume changes ruled the day. She sat down and sent the Stafford group a smile and a wave, enjoying the grace of a perfect afternoon. By the time the performances were over and awards presented, the kids and the audience were tired. Angelina intervened as Elsa moved toward the door. “Let me stow their stuff away. You’ve been in and out of the changing rooms a dozen times between the two of them. Take a minute to relax.”

  A nice offer like that should never be shrugged off. “Thanks, Angelina.” She turned as Isabo and Sam moved toward the nearby ramp. Noah had hit his dancing tolerance over an hour before. Colt had taken him to the town playground, a friendlier environment for a little guy who got tired of sitting. Nick was following Isabo and Sam up the ramp. She stepped through and held the hallway door open for them.

  Background confusion filled the air. Relatives and kids milled back and forth, a crowd of people in a confined space. Voices rose and fell from multiple directions, for varying reasons. Congratulations, instructions, reassurances, questions.

  Lots of people in a limited space with a crush of voices.

  Elsa stepped against the wall, as far from the action as she could get with limited options. The push of bodies and the loud, jumbled voices hit too many simultaneous triggers.

  Reporters. Cameramen. Throngs of people outside her office and then her apartment when the Internet yielded her address. Shouting questions, pushing microphones in her direction. Wanting to know if she suspected anything. Had she seen anything to indicate Will Belvedere’s state of mind. Why had the judge ruled in the mother’s favor for custody? And did she regret her recommendation to the judge?

  Who would ask those kinds of questions? And yet…

  Could she have prevented that awful event with a simple phone call?

  She moved closer to Sam, trying to focus on him, not the crowd.

  “They did well for themselves.” Pride and exhaustion thickened the sick man’s words. “But I can’t say I’m sorry they’re turning in their dancing shoes for riding boots.” Sweat soaked Sam’s face, and he mopped his forehead with a white hanky as Nick took hold of his arm in a kind, caring gesture. “But it was good to be here to see them, Nick. Real good.”

  Sam’s face swam before her, out of focus. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be strong in the moment, the joy of this day, this time.

  “It was.” Nick’s steady tone fought through the haze. “I’m glad you could be here, Dad.”

  She centered on Nick’s voice as she pushed the unwanted surge of adrenaline down. Focus on Nick. Focus on now. You’re fine. Everything’s okay.

  “And their mother never showed,” Sam added, and there was no missing the disgust in his voice. “Though I was guilty of that too many times myself, so I won’t mention it around the girls.”

  Elsa heard Sam’s words, but he
r thoughts clung to one word only. Guilty.

  Sam was guilty.

  Elsa was guilty.

  Emotions crawled to a spiral around her, slow at first, then faster, an approaching storm.

  “Cling to God, Elsa! When those moments come, when they start to take hold, hold on to him who made us, who made the heaven and the earth.” Her mother’s words during the worst times. She grabbed hold of the wisdom now. Isaiah’s sweet verse of comfort, a favorite…

  “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

  “I expect the girls noticed Whitney’s absence anyway.” Nick’s voice, answering Sam.

  Of course they would notice. Elsa knew that. Kids always did. They discerned more than grownups gave them credit for.

  “I’m so scared, Elsa.”

  Christiana, sharing her fear with a person of trust. Longing for help. Seeking safety from those around her.

  “Absolutely not!”

  A loud voice rang out above the hallway melee. Loud, yet harsh and controlled, a strange combination. A combination she remembered too well.

  Elsa turned quickly. Others turned too.

  “It’s my weekend, Aubrey, which means Kaitlyn’s going with me, and that’s that. But nice try.” The man’s powerful voice matched his appearance. Broad. Strong. And angry.

  “I made a promise to my daughter, and I intend to keep it.” Bitterness deepened the young mother’s tone. She fisted her hands.

  “That’s your problem.” The father stood tall and grim, football player size. Massive shoulders filled out a nondescript golf shirt. He crossed thick, muscular arms over his chest, and his voice, deep and low, resonated throughout the hall. He wasn’t shouting. She was. But it was his voice that commanded attention. A voice that sounded very much like Will Belvedere’s from three long years ago. “Your problem,” he repeated. “Not mine. My weekend started at five last evening and ends at five tomorrow night. That’s what the court said. That’s how we roll. There are no other options, Aubrey.”

  “I had no other options…” From Will Belvedere’s rambling note, as if excusing himself of his heinous crime.

  Angry tears rolled down Aubrey’s cheeks. She hissed at him with such venom that he should have stepped back.

  He didn’t. He did nothing to defuse the moment, and any minute their little girl would come out of the dressing room into the middle of bitter chaos.

  “I refuse to live like this, Peter.”

  The mother’s angry words put Elsa’s heart into a barrel roll. No other options…Refusing to live…I’m so scared, Elsa…

  Voices merged into a high-pitched tone, pulsing in her brain. She raised her hands to block the sound, but it was no longer the current sounds that were forcing the issues.

  It was the voices from the past, silenced by the grave, voices she should have listened to more carefully or more closely.

  Voices that were now gone forever.

  Eyes closed, hands up, she slipped to the floor and put her head between her knees, once again wishing it would all go away.

  “Nick!”

  The fear in Angelina’s voice pulled Nick’s attention away from the arguing couple. She pointed behind him as she pushed her way through the crowd.

  “Dulce María, madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros.” Isabo muttered the old prayer as she released Sam’s other arm and bent low.

  He spotted Elsa, head tucked on the floor, and his heart jumped rhythm. He squatted too. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Elsa, are you sick? Are you—”

  Angelina copied his stance on the opposite side. “Let’s get her out of here.”

  “But what if she’s hurt?” Nick laid a hand of caution on Angelina’s arm. “We don’t know what’s going on, Ange, maybe —”

  “Panic attack. Help me get her out of the crowd, okay?”

  Panic attack?

  Nick didn’t have time to process the words. They brought Elsa upright while Isabo cleared a path to the exit. As they moved through the doors, Isabo touched his arm. “I will go see to Sam and the girls with Trey.”

  He didn’t remember nodding, but he was grateful to have Isabo and Trey on hand.

  “Elsa. Sit.”

  He started to chastise Angelina for being too abrupt, but she surprised him by pulling out a tiny packet, snapping it open, and putting it beneath Elsa’s nose. “Smelling salts, Elsa. Breathe.”

  She did. Her head came up, eyes wide as the ammoniated scent hit the air. She inhaled again, raised her eyes, and spotted him. Her sad expression cut him to the quick.

  He bent low. “Hey.” He put a hand to her cheek and kept his voice soft and tender. “It’s okay, Elsa. It’s okay. It was stifling in there.” He jutted his chin toward the school. “I expect you weren’t the only one feeling faint.”

  She stared at him. Her throat convulsed. Tears filled her eyes, then ran over. When he reached out to comfort her, she drew back as far as the seat would allow. She began to speak just as the school door flung open.

  The fighting couple barged out. The man strode forward in long, hard strides. He held a little girl’s hand on one side and a rolling bag on the other, and the child had to run to keep up with his pace. The mother hurried after him, carrying the argument all the way to the car, letting everyone—including a sweet, brown-haired little girl from Dakota’s class—hear her litany of complaints.

  Elsa stared after them, eyes wide. Her jaw quivered, and Angelina slipped onto the stone wall beside her. “Elsa.”

  Elsa cued into her voice and turned her way.

  “You’re safe. You’re fine. There’s nothing here to hurt you. Or her.” She indicated the little girl with a look that way.

  “How can we be sure?” It was Elsa’s voice, but tiny, as if not daring to say the words out loud. “How can we ever be sure, Angelina?”

  “We can’t.” Angelina held her attention with a firm hand on her arm. “So we do our best and let God take charge. The Alpha and the Omega, the One who sees all, who welcomes the innocent into his kingdom with loving embrace.”

  “I want to believe that.” Elsa gripped Angelina’s arms with both hands. She held so tight her knuckles strained white, and her expression cinched a knot around Nick’s heart. “I want to believe that so badly. And I was doing so much better. Wasn’t I?”

  Better? Better than what?

  “Take it one day at a time, just like you’ve been doing, and don’t you dare let one misstep push you backward. You’ve come so far.” Angelina’s tone both scolded and comforted. “God sees. He loves. He knows.”

  “He knows what, exactly?” Nick looked from one woman to the other. They might be privy to this conversation, but he didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, and that didn’t sit well with him. He had tried to be open and honest from his first meeting with Elsa. He took his hand away from Elsa’s shoulder and rocked back on his heels. “Would someone care to tell me what’s going on? Because if there’s something wrong, I should know. Don’t you think?”

  Elsa looked at him. She began to answer as his phone vibrated. He ignored the phone, but when it went off again, almost instantly, he grabbed it.

  Rye Bennett was calling from the sheriff’s office. For Rye to call twice and not just leave a message meant something was wrong. “Rye, what’s up?”

  “It’s Whitney.”

  Elsa was falling apart in front of him, and the sheriff was calling about Whitney? “What about her? What’s happened?”

  “She’s had an accident up on Route 970. She’s all right. The car’s a mess. My guess is that she totaled it.”

  “Is she sober?”

  “Yes.”

  At least there was that to be thankful for. He’d started the day happily, looking forward with hope and confidence.

  That changed a few minutes ago.

  He’d trusted Elsa. Sure, he knew she had issues. Who didn’t? And with all th
eir talk of trust and harmony, putting others first, he figured if there was anything seriously amiss, she’d tell him, because she preached honesty and integrity.

  It seemed clear right now that she didn’t practice what she preached, and he’d already been down that road a couple of times, once with his mother and once with his former wife.

  He didn’t just want honesty. He longed for it. He needed to be able to trust his relationships going forward.

  Trey came through the school door right then. He held it ajar for Isabo, Sam, and the girls, and as the kids rushed his way, he couldn’t look at the sadness in Elsa’s eyes.

  Put the girls first.

  She preached that loud and long, so that’s exactly what he’d do. Whitney could stew at the local jail, waiting for a ride, and Elsa could…

  He had no idea what Elsa could or would do, and right now…he didn’t care.

  —

  Elsa watched Nick stride away and didn’t blame him. She’d do the same thing if the situations were reversed, except she couldn’t imagine big, strong Nick Stafford falling apart. Getting mad, yes.

  Collapsing into a blubbering heap?

  Not likely.

  She pulled a deep breath and stood.

  “Better?” Angelina kept her tone level.

  “Yes. And embarrassed.”

  “Pff.” Isabo had walked back up the steps from the parking lot. “We all have moments when things from the past creep up on us. After a cowardly cur of a man shot my beloved husband, I had many such moments. Time and faith have eased them. And love.” Isabo grazed Angelina’s face with one hand. “Let’s get back to the ranch and enjoy food and peace and quiet.”

  “I don’t know how much peace and quiet there will be when the men react to Whitney’s accident. But I sure could use a cup of coffee, Mami.” The women began to walk toward the parked vehicles. The crowd had thinned. Colt had gone back to the house with the rest of the family.

  “I, as well,” Isabo confirmed. “And it is wise to give Nick some time, I believe.”

  “The trick with Staffords is, how much time?” Angelina unlocked the SUV and the three women climbed in, with Isabo taking the seat behind her daughter. Elsa slumped against the cool leather.