His Daughter's Laughter (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Hudson, Janis Reams

  Carly wanted to like the man. For Amanda’s sake, she really wanted to. But she never had liked being talked down to.

  “Now,” he said. “As I asked, who am I speaking with?”

  That wasn’t precisely what he had asked, but she sup- posed it was close enough. She identified herself. “And yes, I’m the one hired to look after Amanda.”

  “Let me talk to Tyler.”

  “I’m afraid he’s not in right now.”

  “Oh, I know he’s not usually in the house during the day. Just run out to the corral or the barn or wherever he is and get him.”

  “I’m sorry, but he’s not close enough for me to get him. He’s out in the farthest hay field.”

  “Oh,” the man said. “Well, then, run on out there and have him come in and call me. Can you do that?”

  Now his voice held a sneer. What was the man’s prob- lem? “Is this an emergency?”

  “What? No. He called last week while I was out. I just want to talk to him. You get out there and tell him that”

  Carly ground her teeth. What a jerk. “I’m afraid I can’t,” she told him. “The men are trying to get the last of the hay stacked before a storm hits. Tyler may not be back until dark. I’ll be glad to take a message out to him, if it’s important. I’m sure he’ll call you back as soon as he gets in tonight.”

  “That won’t do,” he said. “I want to talk to him this afternoon. Now, are you going to go get him?”

  Not, “I need to talk to him,” but “I want to,” Carly thought What should she do? She knew if all the man wanted to do was visit, Tyler would gnash his teeth at being called in from the field. Yet it wasn’t her place to decide what phone calls he should take.

  Nor was it her place to run around the ranch delivering messages, either. She had the feeling that Mr. Tomlinson’s insistence on her getting Tyler right then was more about control—Mr. Tomlinson’s control of her—than any urgent need to speak with Tyler.

  Still…

  “Well if you have to think about it that hard, the man said, “never mind. Just have him call me when he gets in tonight. And you might want to remember, young woman, that you are a paid employee. I don’t imagine he’ll be too pleased about not getting my call.”

  Carly fought the urge to tell him what she thought. Still, Tyler had told her she shouldn’t take whatever others de- cided to dish out to her, and he’d included his family in that suggestion.

  “I’ll be sure to give him your message, Mr. Tomlinson,” she said. What she wanted to say, but didn’t, was that she was hired to get Amanda to talk, not to run all over the countryside pulling Tyler away from his work for a phone call it took the old goat more than a week to place.

  Besides, the men had been working so hard to finish that damned hay. Especially Tyler, who still managed to work with his horses each day. Today he’d chosen to preempt his training schedule to get the last of the hay stacked and fenced. He wanted to be finished with it. So did the others. To pull him away, when they were so close… No. She couldn’t do it. Not without a very good reason. So far, Mr. Tomlinson hadn’t given her any reason at all, other than “he wanted.” Well, his wants were going to have to wait.

  The words burned in her throat, but she swallowed them. After hanging up the phone, she settled for sticking out her tongue.

  A sound, a breath, a shuffle from behind had her whirl- ing, a blush already heating her cheeks.

  It was Amanda. And she was silently giggling.

  Carly moaned. “You weren’t supposed to see me do that.”

  Amanda’s eyes filled with laughter.

  “It wasn’t very nice of me.”

  Amanda shook her head, and tried to stop grinning.

  Carly chuckled. “But you know what? It sure felt good.”

  An hour before sunset, the dark clouds that had been gathering over the mountains all day broke loose and boiled across the sky. Carly stepped out the back door and felt the temperature dropping rapidly. The wind carried grit and the smell of rain.

  Were the men finished?

  The stories she’d heard at dinner during the past weeks, of lightning burning up fences, striking haystacks and barns and pickups, had her gnawing the inside of her jaw.

  She held her blowing bangs back from her face with one hand and looked to the west, straining to see through the gathering darkness and the clouds of dust driven before the storm.

  There. Something…yes. The pickup. They must have de- cided to leave the tractors in the field until tomorrow. Thank God. Those old relics would have been much slower to drive than the truck.

  Were all the men there?

  She strained and rose on her toes as the pickup came nearer. It looked like three in the cab, and more in the bed. As the truck pulled up to the barn, all six men piled out.

  The first drops of rain, big and fat and heavy, hit the hard-packed earth with audible splats. Carly dashed back to the house.

  The men weren’t as fortunate. No sooner had the back storm door swung shut behind her, than the clouds opened up and cut loose. From the window over the sink, Carly watched first the willows along the creek, then the farthest corrals, then even the closest barn disappear into the solid torrent.

  And the horses were still out in the pastures and corrals.

  Soon it was so dark outside that all she could see in the window was her own reflection. It gave her back a wry grin. The men were undoubtedly drenched, or soon would be. Yet she had dashed for the house at the first drop of rain.

  Running to get out of the rain—that was simply what people did. No one wanted to get caught out in a downpour. Yet, really, what would happen? A person would get wet Just like in the shower, only obviously not as warm. Yet people—herself included—acted as though purposely al- lowing oneself to get wet in the rain was unthinkable.

  And to have to work while wet, well, for heaven’s sake. No one would choose a job requiring that.

  She chuckled. One was not required to get soaked to the skin to balance a monthly statement or issue payroll checks in a department store. But Tyler and his father and men like them chose this way of life, knowing full well that working in the rain, or even sleet or snow, was merely one more fact of ranch life.

  She put on a fresh pot of coffee, then headed upstairs to the linen closet for a stack of towels.

  When Tyler and Arthur finally made it to the house, both were exhausted and soaked to the skin, but elated to have the haying behind them for another year. Arthur even went so far as to thank Carly for putting out the towels in the mudroom.

  Carly waited until after dinner to tell Tyler that Howard Tomlinson had called.

  To return the call, Tyler went in his office and closed the door.

  A few minutes later, Carly and Amanda were just settling in on the couch to watch a Disney movie on one of the satellite channels when Tyler stuck his head out of the of- fice. “Sweetpea, your grandfather and grandmother are on the phone. They’d like to talk to you. Wanna come in here?” He held out his hand.

  At the mention of her grandparents, Amanda tensed be- side Carly. When Tyler held out his hand, she looked up at Carly, her big eyes beseeching.

  “What is it?” Carly asked softly. “Don’t you want to talk to them?”

  Amanda looked decidedly uncomfortable, more than a little upset, even guilty. She made no move to answer Car- ly’s question, or to reach for Tyler’s outstretched hand.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Carly told her. “You don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to.”

  Her look of profound relief was mixed with gratitude, and again, that hint of guilt.

  Carly patted the girl’s leg, then crossed the room to Ty- ler. She entered the office and pulled him in after her, clos- ing the door behind them.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to talk to them just yet. She’s been making good progress lately, but she’s still emotionally fragile. She associates her grandparents with her mother, and with all the trauma of he
r mother’s death. She’s obviously not ready to deal head-on with that yet. To push her now, I think, would be a mistake.”

  With a frown, Tyler rubbed the back of his neck. “I hadn’t looked at it that way, but I think maybe you’re right. In any case, she sure didn’t look eager to come to the phone. Thanks, Carly. I’ll tell Howard.”

  Carly sighed. “He’s not going to like it.”

  “I don’t care what he likes. Amanda comes first”.

  Chapter Nine

  “Why don’t I see that new mare you’ve been talking about?” Robert, the oldest of Tyler’s brothers, asked.

  Tyler propped one boot on the bottom rail of the corral fence and watched his two current competition horses, Bingo and Duster, grazing down near the creek. “I won’t be getting the mare.”

  “What?” Joe, the youngest brother, looked stunned. “Hell, Ty, you’ve been trying to get your hands on Mag- nificent Cutter since the first time you saw her perform at the World Championship Quarter Horse Show down in Oklahoma City five years ago. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind now that Johnson’s finally decided to sell her.”

  The shrieks and laughter of his brothers’ children as they raced around the corner of the house drew Tyler’s gaze. Amanda should have been with them. Her childish laughter should right that minute be echoing through the barn with theirs as they chased after one of the barn cats.

  Like the others, Amanda, too, should be sporting grass stains on the seat and knees of her jeans. She ought to have straw sticking out of her hair. A little manure stuck to the bottom of her boots wouldn’t bother him any, either.

  Except she wasn’t wearing boots. Or jeans. She was, at that very moment, sitting demurely—silently—on the front porch with the adults, doing her best not to soil her pretty pink dress.

  The last outdoor fling of the year before school, before winter—their traditional “End of Haying” family cook- out—and Amanda wouldn’t let herself cut loose enough to play with her cousins. Still, there was progress. Carly had convinced her to trade her patent leather shoes for sneakers. Maybe by the time school started…

  The reminder of school starting tied Tyler’s stomach in knots. Amanda… God, his baby would have to go to school this fall. Next week! Panic clutched him by the throat. She wasn’t old enough. She couldn’t be old enough! She was just a baby!

  “Hey, big brother.” Joe nudged Tyler’s arm. “You still here?”

  Tyler turned his gaze reluctantly back to his brothers. “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “So what gives with the mare?” Robert asked.

  Tyler shook his head. “I’m using the money for some- thing more important.”

  Robert crossed his arms and leveled a narrow-eyed stare at Tyler. “Yeah, we heard that woman was costing you an arm and a leg. But I don’t hear Amanda talking yet. When are you gonna quit fooling around and get Amanda some real help?”

  Tyler stiffened. “Carly is helping. The doctor in San Francisco thought he knew a therapist who was moving to Jackson. Turned out he moved to Jacksonville, instead. So for now, Carly’s all we’ve got—and she’s helping, dam- mit.”

  Robert pursed his lips. “She might be helping you, but what’s she done for Amanda?”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It just means.” Joe said in a placating tone, “that we’re worried about you, that’s all.”

  “There’s nothing for you to worry about”.

  “We beg to differ,” Robert said.

  “We? I suppose you’ve all gotten together and decided you know what’s best for Amanda and me?”

  “Take it easy,” Joe said, responding to the harsh chal- lenge in Tyler’s voice.

  “Quit tiptoeing around it,” Robert told Joe. To Tyler, he said, “We think maybe you just want to help Amanda so much that you’re not thinking, straight”.

  Tyler swore to himself. He didn’t need this conversation, didn’t want it, but he knew from experience that his broth- ers would say what they thought, with or without his per- mission. Better here and now, away from the others, where Carly couldn’t hear.

  “All right, I’ll bite. Just what is it that makes you think I’m not thinking straight?”

  Tyler felt a hand on his back and stiffened. He jerked his head around, relieved—sort of—to find his sister, Sandy, rather than Carly. Not that Carly would have laid her hand on his back that way, but a man could dream.

  “What they’re trying to say, and obviously doing a poor job of it,” Sandy said with a glare at Robert and Joe, “is that…well, dammit, Tyler, you’ve been alone a long time, and Carly’s so cute, and she’s not qualified to help Amanda, not really, and we’re worried that—”

  “We’re worried that maybe Carry’s better qualified to fill up your nights than she is to help Amanda,” Robert said.

  Tyler ground his teeth and clenched his fists. “It’s been a long time since I felt the need to teach any of you some manners. I think maybe too long.”

  “Come off it, Ty,” Joe said. “We’re not blind. We see what happens every time you get around her.”

  Robert smirked. “Yeah. You act like a stallion sniffin’ flank”.

  “Why, you—”

  Sandy cried out and caught Tyler’s arm in both hands before he could complete his swing.

  Robert met him stare for stare. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not really blaming you—we’re talkin’ prime flank here.”

  “Robert,” Sandy cried. “Damn you, just shut up.”

  “I just don’t want to see big brother taken for a ride again by another city girl,” Robert said harshly. “The ranch, not to mention Amanda, can’t afford the price tag, even if he thinks he can.”

  “Ty?” Sandy tugged on Tyler’s arm.

  Tyler jerked free, his glare still centered on Robert.

  “Ty, we just want you to be careful,” Sandy said. “We don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “And if you don’t get rid of Carly,” Joe said, “Aman- da’s gonna get hurt, you’re gonna get hurt and Carly Bak- er’s gonna sashay her cute little butt back to San Francisco pretty as you please with all your money and dreams in her pockets.”

  “I don’t believe the three of you,” Tyler cried. “Where do you get off telling me how to run my life? And what makes any of you so damn perfect you think you have the right to judge a woman you barely know? You’re out of line,” he said. “All of you. I won’t listen to any more of this crap.”

  He stepped forward and jabbed a forefinger at Robert’s chest. “And I damn sure better not hear one more word— not one—from any of you about Carly. She’s good for Amanda. That’s why she’s here. If anything else comes of it, it’s none of your damn business.”

  Before his rage broke free of his will, Tyler whirled and stomped off toward the creek. He needed privacy to get himself under control before facing anyone else. Before facing Carly.

  He couldn’t believe how easily he’d dismissed her con- cerns about the attitudes of his family and friends. He felt like kicking himself for not taking her seriously. Damn, if she had picked up on what his brothers and sister were thinking, if their thoughts had shown in their eyes, no won- der she was hurt. No wonder she’d been extra sensitive to the money he was paying her. At least she’d given in and started accepting her paychecks again.

  But Tyler wasn’t hurt by his family’s interference. Bless those idiots, they thought they were looking out for him. No, he wasn’t hurt. But he was damn good and pissed off. He wanted to hit something. Unfortunately, the only thing along the creek worth hitting was the occasional trunk of a willow tree. He hadn’t lost quite that much sense yet.

  So he walked. And swore. And fumed.

  He didn’t dare go back to the party until he’d cooled down.

  Nearly half a dozen kids barreled around the side of the house, tumbling and giggling their way across the front yard. The two young cousins from Big Piney, and all of Tyler’s nieces and nephews—except the two
-year-old. All the children on the ranch. Except Amanda.

  Carly watched as Amanda eyed the other kids at play. Was that a touch of wistfulness on the girl’s face? Carly hoped so, she dearly did. If anything could get Amanda to trade those fancy dresses for more appropriate play clothes, it would be the other children. How long would Amanda be able to sit on the sidelines while they romped?

  “Oh, Carly, those look delicious.” Barb, Joe’s wife, snatched a deviled egg from the platter Carly had carried out to the picnic table beneath the temporary awning erected in the front yard.

  “Thanks.” Carly smiled, but without real feeling. Barb’s words were the nicest anyone had said to her since the relatives had started arriving that morning.

  “Oh, bits of bacon in the filling,” Barb said. “My fa- vorite way.”

  Carly set the platter on the table and brushed the back of her hand across her forehead. Everyone had been talking all morning about how glad they were that the temperature was so cool. While eighty-five was certainly cooler than it had been, it was still a heck of a lot hotter than Carly was used to.

  She scanned the yard, noting Tyler’s continued absence. He and his brothers had disappeared earlier to look at the horses. Robert and Joe were back now, giving Arthur ad- vice on the perfect way to grill hamburgers, but Tyler hadn’t returned with them.

  “Have you seen Tyler?” she asked Barb.

  Barb immediately looked away. “Oh,” she said, her cheeks turning pink, “he’s around somewhere.” She left and darted across the grass toward the men at the grill.

  From the corner of her eye, Carly saw Barb whisper something to Joe and Robert. The two men shot Carly a glance. Their sister, Sandy, jabbed them each in the arm, and they turned back toward the grill.

  Carly had been fighting the return of her paranoia for the past hour, to no avail. The speculative looks, the covert whispers, smiles that didn’t reach eyes—all of it was get- ting to her. And it was much worse when Tyler wasn’t around.