by K. N. Casper
“Everything’s fine, Megan. Your mom called. She got tied up in San Antonio and your grandpa had to fly to Washington for new grapevines. Your mom asked me to pick you up and take you over to my place. I’ll give you an extra riding lesson while we wait for her.”
The prospect of riding Birdsong was enticing, but the child was still leery, which he took as a good sign.
“Are you telling the truth?” she asked. “They’re both all right? Not like Heather’s—”
“She’s fine, honey. They both are.” He wanted to give her a hug, but he didn’t dare. “Tell you what. You know your mom’s cell number?”
“Uh-huh.”
He removed his phone from the little holster on his belt. “Here, call her and make sure it’s okay.”
Megan took it, still studying him. He could see she wanted to trust him.
She poked in the numbers. It rang several times before Kayla answered.
“Mom? Is that you?”
Relaxing, Megan started babbling about Ethan being there to pick her up and was it all right for her to go with him. “He wants to give me a special riding lesson on Birdsong. Can I go, Mom, please?” she listened for a few seconds. “Okay. I’ll tell him.” She disconnected and handed the phone back to him. “She says she’ll meet us at the ranch in about half an hour.”
“Good. Now, do you need to change clothes?”
Megan used her key and ran inside, leaving the door open. Ethan remained on the small porch and scanned the peaceful landscape he loved.
* * *
THEY SAT ON A PLAID wool blanket under a live oak tree on the top of a hill, watching the lowering sun paint the sky in translucent pastels of pink and charcoal, blue and iridescent gold. The wind, so prevalent on the sweeping prairies of Texas, was calm this evening, the air sweet and sultry.
They’d eaten in the shallow valley below, where water bubbled and gurgled up from underground springs to form a lily-covered pool. The soft earth was peppered with the prints of deer and other animals that came to drink.
Megan had been enthralled by the signs of wildlife, especially when Ethan showed her limestone formations imprinted with seashells and mollusks that had thrived here millions of years ago. Now the eight-year-old leaned against a small outcropping, facing the setting sun, her head tilted forward as she slowly succumbed to weariness.
“This all belonged to your family?” Kayla asked.
“Over ten thousand acres at one time. My great-great-grandmother was the one who named it. Have you ever asked yourself why pioneers settled where they did?”
She laughed. “I sure have. Some of the places certainly aren’t ones I would have picked.”
“The reason we put down roots here probably wasn’t much different from a lot of other stories. Dead Mule Ranch was the name of one spread not far from here. That was where a German family was forced to stop when their mule dropped dead in its traces. In our case, it was a broken wagon wheel. While my great-great-grandfather Adolphus Schnorrberger went off in search of a new one, his wife, Hildegard, plunked her bonnet on the limb of a live oak tree and decided she’d gone as far as she was going to. By the time great-great-granddaddy returned with a new wheel, she’d set up camp and started building a house. Supposedly he wanted to name their spread Schnorrbergerviehfarm, but great-great-grandma said that was too much of a mouthful even for a German. She said Der Broken Schpoke was easier.”
Kayla laughed. “You made that up—but I love it.”
He struggled to maintain a deadpan expression. “They had one child, a daughter. Legend has it the man she married, Gerhardt Ritter, had a gambling problem. One night, after a bout of heavy drinking, he wagered half the ranch in a poker game. The other guy won with four aces.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Gallagher?”
He nodded. “The same legend also says Gallagher cheated. Supposedly, when great-great-grandma found out, she took a shotgun to her son-in-law and nearly blew him away. Instead her shot went wild, shattered an oil lamp in the house, and she ended up burning the place down—by accident, of course.”
Kayla was trying to decide if she believed any of this. “Colorful people.”
“The only good thing about it,” Ethan continued, “was that the land my great-grandfather gave up was downstream from the springs, so at least we still had plenty of water. More hard times followed, though, and over the years the family had to sell off chunks of the place. We were down to a little over a thousand acres by the time my parents got married.”
“That’s still a lot of land.”
“The other two big landowners were Clint Gallagher, who’d inherited the Four Aces, and Clyde Braxton, who’d bought the K-bar-C, which was our last big sale during the Depression. Dad had been hoping to buy the spread back when the old man died. The problem was we were cash poor, so Dad got together with other ranchers and talked them into forming a consortium to raise the money to purchase the place. He hoped to be able to buy them out a few years down the road.”
“What about your mom?” Kayla asked. “How did she feel about it?”
Ethan didn’t remember any of the details of the discussions between his parents, only that his dad had been positive and hopeful.
“She was by nature more cautious, asked a lot of questions, but when decision time came she bowed to his judgment.”
“She disagreed with him?”
“I think she had reservations, but if she had really been against the plan, Dad wouldn’t have gone through with it.”
“Then the consortium collapsed.”
“I was just about to graduate from A&M when my sister died. Angela had been sick for years, and even though we knew the end was inevitable, my mother withdrew from everyone, even my dad, after that. I came home after college, but there wasn’t much I could do—for her or for the ranch.”
“I’m sorry,” Kayla said. “It must have been heartbreaking.”
He shook his head slowly. “It was like we were bit players in a story someone else had written.”
She reached over and clasped his hand.
“My mother died a year after my sister. Heart failure. She went to bed one night and didn’t wake up.”
Millicent said Valerie had died of a broken heart. Kayla could imagine it was true.
“Dad never recovered from their deaths.”
The silence between them lingered for several minutes. The sky was darkening.
Ethan nodded toward Megan, who was sound asleep. “She’s had a busy day.”
“Oh, dear. I’ll have to wake her.”
“I can carry her.”
He went over and carefully lifted the child, cushioning her head against his shoulder. She stirred for a moment, then put her arms around his neck, snuggled against him and closed her eyes.
Kayla picked up the blanket and trekked alongside him. It was a strange feeling, the two of them and the sleeping child. Strange and frighteningly wonderful.
The walk back to Kayla’s house seemed longer, slower without the excited girl running ahead of them, yet Ethan didn’t want the journey to end.
Inside, he laid her on her bed, helped remove her shoes and socks, then left the room while Kayla finished and tucked her in.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she carefully pulled the bedroom door to, leaving it open just a crack. “Will you stay a few minutes? You must be thirsty.”
This is a mistake, he told himself. “Thanks.”
They sat in the living room, each with soft drinks. “You obviously love kids, yet you told me you have no intention of ever getting married. Am I being too nosy if I ask why?”
He pursed his lips, as a shadow seemed to pass across his face. “You know I had a younger sister, Angela, who died.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you know how?”
“I heard she got lead poisoning from eating Mexican candy.”
“I was the one who gave her the candy, Kayla. I killed her.”
CHAPTER TE
N
KAYLA DIDN’T KNOW HOW to react, what to say. All she could see was the forlorn expression on Ethan’s face, the dead look in his eyes. He’d been carrying this guilt around for years. A heavy burden.
“You didn’t kill her,” she insisted, “even if you did give her the candy. You certainly didn’t intend her harm.”
His laugh was mirthless. “My intent doesn’t change what happened.”
“You honestly blame yourself for her illness and death?”
“I gave her the candy behind my parents’ back because I knew they didn’t approve. If I’d obeyed them, she wouldn’t have eaten it and wouldn’t have gotten sick. Of course I’m responsible for her death.”
Putting her hand on his forearm, aware of his wire-taut muscles, she looked directly into his eyes.
“You’re smarter than that, Ethan.”
He pulled away. “It’s late.” He started to rise from the couch. “I’d better get going. We both have work to do tomorrow.”
“Don’t go.” She clasped his arm again. “Please, don’t go. Let’s talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” But he made no further effort to rise. “What are you, a shrink now?”
“Tell me what happened.”
He hesitated, gazed at her, lifted his shoulders and settled back against the couch.
“I’d just turned fourteen when I started high school and was feeling pretty smug about myself. I’d made the football team. Pablo García was on the team, too. His mom was American, but his dad was from Mexico. He used to drive down to Monterey every six weeks or so to visit his mother. On one of his trips he brought back tamarind candy for Pablo, who gave me some.”
Ethan upended the already empty soft drink can he’d previously abandoned.
Kayla wondered if it was safe to offer him another. An interruption in the tempo of his narrative now might break the spell. Yet intuition told her he needed to get this out, that having started, nothing could stop him.
“I’ll get you another soda.” She disappeared into the kitchen and returned seconds later with a fresh can.
“Thanks.” He looked up and met her eyes for the first time. She wasn’t sure if the gratitude she saw there was for the drink or her willingness to listen. The aluminum can clicked and hissed when he pulled the tab.
“I gave Angela some of the candy when I got home. My mother caught us and told Angela she could have that piece but didn’t want her eating a lot of junk. She warned me I’d better lay off it, too, if I didn’t want zits.” He sniffed. “I gave Angela the rest of what I had and told her not to let Mom catch her with it.”
He sipped his soda. “When I saw Pablo again, I told him my kid sister really liked the candy. So on his next trip, Mr. García brought me a great big bag and I gave it to Angela. After that, every time he went home, Pablo’s dad brought back another sack. I’d eat a piece or two, but Angela devoured the stuff.”
He took another sip of soda and put the can down.
“Toward the end of my second year, Luella found Angela’s latest stash and went ballistic. I couldn’t imagine why she was so mad. It was just candy.”
He took a deep breath. “It turned out she’d read an article in one of her Spanish magazines a few days earlier about Mexican candy being tainted with all sorts of stuff, ranging from unacceptable levels of fecal matter to toxic chemicals. Did you know there are acceptable levels of fecal matter?”
He frowned. “Well, my parents went berserk when Luella told them. My mother had just heard about kids in Oklahoma getting lead poisoning from eating tamarind candy made in Mexico. Angela and I were tested. They found trace amounts of lead in my system, but Angela, who was six years younger, had a lot more in hers.”
Kayla watched his hands tighten into fists. She doubted he was even aware of it.
“We both underwent chelation. When it was over I was given a clean bill of health. Well, almost. Angela... She’d eaten so much of it... They were able to remove a lot of the lead from her bloodstream, but her organs had already been affected.”
When he lifted his eyes, they were glassy, and the expression on his face was one of agony. “It took her six years to die, Kayla....” He took a ragged breath. “All because I gave her candy.”
Kayla took his fisted hand and spread the fingers, forcing him to release the tension.
“In the end it killed my mother and father, too.” He withdrew his hand and stood.
“So now you know why I’ll never marry,” he concluded, “why I’ll never have children. After the chelation, the doctor told me my blood tests all came out clean, but that he couldn’t guarantee my DNA hadn’t been irreparably damaged. There was a possibility I could produce defective children, so I had a vasectomy the day after I turned eighteen. I won’t marry, either. I destroyed one family. I can’t be responsible for destroying another.”
Kayla ached for him. He was carrying guilt that no man should have to bear. His culpability was unreasonable, yet she couldn’t fault his logic.
She felt so helpless. There were no magic words to make the pain go away.
* * *
ETHAN RETURNED HOME in a funk deeper than he’d suffered since he’d found his father’s body, the gun still warm in his hand. Another of a long series of tragedies he’d caused. Sometimes he wondered if his father hadn’t had the right idea. Living with the shame and guilt were at times a burden he didn’t think he could bear, yet his body went on.
He hadn’t missed the compassion or the pity in Kayla’s eyes as he’d told her his story. Ironic laughter stirred inside him. Till then she’d thought she was falling in love with him. He’d seen that in her eyes, too. Earlier. In the moments when she thought he wasn’t looking.
He should be flattered, delighted—reach out and grasp what she wanted to give him. But he’d made a vow, and no matter how much he wanted Kayla, he couldn’t have her. He’d done enough harm; he wouldn’t do more. Getting involved would only hurt them both.
* * *
KAYLA SPENT THE NEXT two days tearing out dead and dying grapevines. The cover crops of clover, mustard and lavender she’d planted to enrich the soil had also been destroyed, so it all had to be plowed under. At least it would add compost to help aerate the soil.
The work was backbreaking, digging out old plants, untwisting new sprouts from the wires they’d so carefully strung. Tilling and turning the dirt, and the inevitable cleanup. By the time Megan and her friends got off the school bus Wednesday afternoon, Kayla was exhausted. Her back ached, her muscles screamed. Taking the kids over to Ethan’s was a treat, if only because it allowed her to sit still for a few minutes.
“Mommy, I need another inhaler,” Megan announced as she changed into her riding clothes.
She seemed to be going through a lot of inhalers lately, more than usual, but then, this was early spring, a time of year that was always a challenge.
“There’s an extra one in my medicine cabinet,” Kayla responded. “I’ll get it. Mark it on the shopping list in the kitchen, will you please, and I’ll pick up more at the drugstore tomorrow. After your lesson this afternoon, I also want you to use the nebulizer.”
“Can we have sloppy joes for supper tonight?”
Kayla smiled. Sloppy joes were one of Megan’s favorites, but since Grandpa hated them, the only time they indulged now was when he wasn’t around. “You’re on.”
“Can Heather and Brad eat with us?”
They were sitting out on the front porch. Her friends probably had a lot of sloppy joes at the Rayborn house. Kayla was about to suggest another time, then thought of something. “Did you tell them you were going to ask me if they could stay?”
“Uh-huh. I told them you make the best sloppy joes in the whole wide world.”
Her father would say there wasn’t much difference between the worst and the best. In this case, though, the point wasn’t the food but the company.
“Okay—” she held up her hand as Megan started to bolt down the porch ste
ps to tell them “—but next time ask me before you talk to them. It wouldn’t be nice to build up their expectations if for some reason they couldn’t stay. I also have to call Mrs. Rayborn to make sure it’s all right with her. Do you understand?”
Megan nodded.
A few minutes later, the four of them piled out of Kayla’s Toyota at the Broken Spoke.
Ethan was in the ring riding Duke when they arrived. He’d done miracles with the skittish young horse. As the kids watched, he brought the gelding down from a light trot to an extended walk, circled twice and dismounted.
Kayla saw him now in a different light. He was no longer just a good-looking horseman who contributed precious time to handicapped children, but a man trying to atone for an unforgivable sin.
His eyes, when they met hers, betrayed him, though. As casual as he was trying to be today, it was a facade.
After introducing the kids to a couple of new maneuvers, their fifth therapeutic riding candidate arrived. A four-year-old boy who had been born with severe fetal alcohol syndrome. His facial features were bland, immature, almost as if he had Down’s. His speech was limited. According to the report Ethan had received, Norbert was also prone to temper tantrums. Because he was small for his age and had balance problems, Ethan elected to ride bareback with him, as he had with Daphne.
Norbert was at first nervous around the big animal, but petting Birdsong calmed him quickly. When he clapped the horse in the muzzle, Ethan wasn’t sure if it was a spasm or intentional. Fortunately it wasn’t with enough force to provoke the patient old mare, but when Ethan pulled the boy away, it brought on a tantrum. The boy’s grandmother, who had permanent custody of her alcoholic daughter’s child, had warned Ethan of his strength, but as he struggled with the boy, he realized he hadn’t given the elderly woman enough credit. How did she cope with him by herself?
After a time-out, Ethan mounted Birdsong from the block and lifted the boy onto the horse and sat him in front of him. The slow ride began. By the second circuit, the youngster had calmed down and was relaxed against Ethan’s chest. They rode for more than twenty minutes. When Ethan lifted him off the mare, the boy was grinning.