That Cowboy's Kids

by Debra Salonen

  “And you.”

  She shook her head firmly, sending tears tumbling.

  “Abby,” he said, wishing she’d look at him, but she kept her focus trained on the horses, “if it hadn’t been for you, I would have taken the girls—they are my top priority. I’d have left Blaze to fend for herself. Maybe Doc could have saved her alone, maybe not. It’s a pretty safe bet the colt would have died. You gave me an option, which I took. Maybe it wasn’t the right choice, but it’s what I thought I had to do. The girls have to learn about life on a ranch. This is more than just our livelihood, it’s our way of life. The animals are important, and an animal in pain hurts just as much as you or me.”

  He watched her profile in the gentle glow. Her features were relaxed, softer somehow, as she watched the new mother standing guard over her tiny baby. He imagined what effect the light would have on her eyes. They’d probably reflect the golden light like a harvest moon in a bottomless pool. Tom’s fingers itched to reach out, brush back the lock of red satin that framed her jaw, and make her look at him.

  Get a hold, man. You’re not a kid. You’re an adult. He gripped the flashlight, willing himself not to draw her into his arms and kiss her. The night had held enough emotional turbulence for both of them.

  He cleared his throat. “I did what I had to do. You went above and beyond the call of duty. What more can anybody ask?”

  She didn’t respond but Tom thought she seemed less distraught. “Besides,” he said, smiling, “you mostly see the girls when they’re on their best behavior. Those two fight all the time. They’re sisters.”

  She rewarded him with a grateful smile. “Thank you. I probably overreacted. I’ve been a little stressed lately. Work, my boss…”

  “No, thank you. For taking them, for caring, for everything.” Despite his resolve, he gave her a hug. Knowing he had to cut his losses, he dropped his arms and turned away. “I’ll walk you to your car.” With that, they left the confines of the barn and moved toward her vehicle.

  Tom aimed the beam of the flashlight on the door handle of the Honda, but she opened it before he could reach it. She slipped behind the steering wheel. Looking up at him, she said, “Talk to the girls. If I truly didn’t blow this too badly, I’d be happy to drive to Rainbows anytime you need me.” She smiled, an honest, Abby smile. “Believe it or not, Thursdays are my slow day, so I’m usually available. Just give me a call.”

  Her generosity and bravery touched him profoundly. After tonight’s experience, Tom couldn’t imagine any woman—except possibly Janey—who would have volunteered so freely. “I will.”

  When she started to close the door, he held it open. “I forgot to ask. What was the fight about?”

  Turning away to reach for her keys, she mumbled, “I don’t remember.”

  She tugged the door closed and gave him a quick wave.

  “Liar,” he said, when Rosie materialized at his knee. Reaching down to scratch the old dog behind the ear, he told her, “She’d be terrible at poker.”

  “WELL, HELLO THERE, my long-lost love goddess. Long time no see.”

  Abby grinned at Max Jessup’s effusive greeting. She went into his burly open arms and returned his hug with true affection, giggling when he tried nuzzling his bushy salt-and-pepper beard in her neck. “Hi, Max. Good to see you.”

  “Are you two at it again?” a familiar voice asked from the entrance of the foyer. “Max, it’s Sunday. Bring her inside before you scandalize the neighborhood.”

  Donna’s teasing and her husband’s warm greeting lifted a load from Abby’s shoulders that had been weighing her down for the past two days. “God, it’s nice to be here. Sanctuary. No phones. No people.” She hurried to give her friend a hug of equal proportion.

  “What are we, chopped liver?” Max asked, his latent New York accent filtering through the laid-back California humor.

  “Friends. Much better than people.”

  “Hmm.” He gave his wife an inscrutable look and told Abby, “I’ll catch you at dinner, sugarplum. I’ve got a little project in the garage that needs my attention. You two lovelies will have to try to get along without me for a couple of hours.”

  His wife of twenty-some years snorted.

  “What sort of project this time?” Abby asked. Max was a high-school teacher who always managed to find a kid in jeopardy and an old jalopy in need of repair and somehow fix them both in the restoration process.

  “Fifty-six Ford,” he said, grabbing a handful of chocolate-covered peanuts from a cut-glass candy dish sitting on an antique sewing-machine cabinet. Donna’s house was filled to the brim with an eclectic jumble of antiques, collectibles and junk. Abby’s mother called it Decorating’s Black Hole, where all the lost and untreasured went to die.

  “And a sixteen-year-old habitual truant,” Donna added under her breath.

  “He just needed the right teacher,” her husband replied. “Why, he only missed three days of school this week, not counting Monday, which was an in-service day.”

  “Which means he was in school one day?” Abby asked, grinning.

  “Yep.”

  Donna slapped his fingers when he tried for another handful of candy. “We’re on a diet, remember? Go get greasy. I know you’re never quite happy without grease under your fingernails.”

  “Diet, schmiet,” he said, sneaking two little chunks. “You are perfect just as you are, my sweet. Isn’t she perfect, Abby?”

  He blew them both kisses then hurried down the hallway toward the garage.

  Donna watched him; Abby watched her. What would it be like to be that comfortable with another person for so long? She’d give anything to know, and yet a part of her felt as though her chance of ever having that closeness was inching away each day. Or, in Daniel’s case, inching too close every day.

  “Let’s get a beer and go outside,” Donna suggested. “Max said he’d grill the fish later, and I already made a salad, so we can just sit back and relax.”

  Abby smiled. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

  Donna poured two Coronas into chilled mugs and added a wedge of lime before handing one to Abby. “After your call Thursday night, I was afraid you might have committed hara-kiri before I got to see you.”

  Abby shrugged sheepishly. “Slight overreaction, I think. You said the girls were fine when you saw them on Friday, right?”

  Donna pushed open the sliding glass doors and led the way to a shady spot beneath the veranda. A kidney-shaped pool and a molded fiberglass spa, housed in a redwood gazebo, competed for space in Donna’s mini–rain forest backyard. With a big heart and too much work, she couldn’t be bothered with pruning and trimming.

  She dropped into a large, cushioned Adirondack chair and nodded for Abby to join her in its mate. “Heather and Angel looked great. Very rested and peppy. Their father, on the other hand, looked a lot like you. Gaunt. Bags under his eyes. Tense. Are you two trying to outdo eachother for guilt trip of the century?”

  Abby sat down, drawing her bare legs under her. After her third sleepless night in a row, she’d tried to resume her usual Sunday-morning ritual: bagels and cappuccino then weeding and watering her garden. For some reason, the peace she usually found in the earthy flora of her small backyard escaped her.

  “Angel called me Friday after work,” she told Donna. “She apologized for screaming at her sister in public and making me feel bad. I asked her if her dad made her call me and she said, ’No, but he left your card by the phone when he and Heather went to town to buy groceries.’ Wasn’t that sweet?”

  “She respects you for not telling Tom about the cause of the fight.”

  “I couldn’t do that, it would break his heart.”

  Donna took a big gulp of beer then leaned back with a sigh. Abby did the same. She felt at peace, until Donna asked, “You worry about the state of his heart, don’t you?”

  Abby groaned. “Today’s Sunday. No psychology allowed. I’m just here for food and booze.”

  “Occupa
tional hazard. Like you trying to help victims. In my case, it’s easy to overlook my own psychological needs. In your case, you run the risk of becoming a victim of your own good nature.”

  “I’m trying to keep my distance.”

  Donna reached across the wide arms of the chair and squeezed her arm. “I know you are, but there’s a lot of need there right now. It’s natural to want to help. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Me, too.” Too late, a small voice said inside her head.

  Both women were silent for a few minutes, then Donna said, “I fell for a client once.”

  Nonplussed, Abby eyed her friend. “You never told me this.”

  “It was a long time ago. Right out of college. Before I met Max.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Just a man. A young man. A very attractive, very troubled young man. He had a sort of Joe Montana–Kevin Costner–esque quality about him.” She grinned. “And I was forty…all right, fifty, pounds lighter.

  “He came to me because he was depressed. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t achieve sexual gratification either alone or with someone.” Donna smiled at Abby. “What really got to me was the way he improved when he was talking to me. His blue eyes would begin to sparkle and he’d grin. It was as if I had the power to bring him back to life. Heady stuff for one so young.”

  “Did you actually…you know, have sex?”

  “Clinically speaking? Yes.” Donna, her plump cheeks a shade rosier than normal, grimaced. “I’m not proud of myself and I probably would have lost my license if a dear friend hadn’t slapped me upside the head and told me I was crazy.”

  “Clinically speaking?”

  “And every other way. She was in the business, too. She suggested I start him on antidepressants and give him a referral.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Like a champ. And you know the kicker? Once he got better, I discovered he wasn’t as attractive as I thought. What I was attracted to was the need, which, in turn, fed my ego. Sobering thought, huh? Want another beer?”

  Abby finished the last of hers and rose. “Stay put. I’ll get them.”

  When she returned, she asked, “Why’d you tell me that story?”

  Donna shrugged. “Guilt. I’ve been carrying around that awful truth for all these years and…”

  “Bullshit.”

  She chuckled. “You’re human, Abby. Not superhuman. Just plain human. Just like me. Just like the rest of us. You beat yourself up over taking the Butler girls out for ice cream and for feeling attracted to their father when you know you shouldn’t be, but the fact is, sometimes you don’t have any control over these things.”

  Abby studied her beer, not wanting to meet her friend’s eyes.

  “In my case,” Donna continued, “I came to my senses in time to avoid any huge mess. My client got well and moved away. I switched to child psychology. A few years later, I got a notice from a psychologist in Houston requesting transcripts of my client’s files. By then I was happily married, and I sent those puppies off with pure relief.”

  “What about my case?” Abby asked, almost afraid to say the words out loud. “What about these feelings I have for Tom? Everything between us has been aboveboard, but there are these weird vibrations and I can’t tell if I’m sending them or he is or what?”

  “Vibrators? I leave you two alone for a minute and the next thing I know you’re talking dirty,” Max exclaimed from the kitchen. “Wait for me, damn it. I’ve got to finish hooking up the battery.”

  Abby laughed. “God, I wish I’d found him first.”

  Donna grinned. “Oh, pul…lease, as my teenage clients are wont to say, get real. You’ve already got three guys—make that two and a half, counting Landon—after you. What do you want with a hairy old fart like Max? By the way, what’s the scoop on your big date?”

  “Well—” Abby started, thinking back to the source of her second sleepless night.

  “Wait,” Donna interrupted. “Hold that thought. I want to hear all about it on an empty bladder. I’ll be right back.”

  Abby smiled as she watched her friend shuffle into the house, but the smile faded.

  Friday night with Daniel, she thought, what can I say? In a way it was perfect, but—

  “Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?” Daniel asked once the waitress delivered the bottle of ‘94 BV merlot. He raised his glass in toast. “To good times and good friends.”

  Abby lifted her glass to his. How could she not? He’d been the perfect gentleman from the moment he arrived at her house. He’d opened doors for her, chosen Vivaldi for the drive, and, best of all, kept the conversation in the car light and frivolous. Much to her surprise, she discovered they shared an interest in genealogy, although his family lineage was amazingly well documented, while hers was hit-and-miss. His story of his grandparents’ and parents’ internment in relocation camps in World War II truly touched her.

  They’d arrived at Ducie’s early enough to stroll around the grounds and watch families frolic in the waves created by speedboats zipping about in the narrow, man-made lake. The forested hillsides encircling the lake glowed in the early-evening twilight. Abby breathed the clean, crisp air and relaxed for the first time since lunch, when Melina had convinced her the evening was going to be a hot date—with Daniel bent on proving his male prowess to make up for his wife’s rejection. So far, it was nothing of the kind. Abby tasted her wine. “This is lovely. Thank you.”

  “No. Thank you for coming. I really needed some friendly female company. No matter how civilized you think things are going to be, a divorce is never amiable. Suddenly that stupid clock somebody you can’t even remember gave you for a wedding present becomes a prized possession. It’s crazy.”

  Abby nodded sympathetically, but she had no personal experience with divorce. Billy died to get out of their relationship, and Landon moved in with another woman. The only household items she and Landon had owned jointly were the bar stools, which Abby liked, and a futon, which Abby hated. Since the futon cost twice as much as the stools, Landon was tickled to have it and leave the stools. Unfortunately, Abby thought as she sipped her wine, once Daniel opened the subject of his divorce, he couldn’t get off the subject. She understood how important it was to him, and she tried to be consoling, but by the time she was finishing her salmon, she’d had her fill of the topic.

  “What about dessert?” he asked, smiling warmly.

  He truly was a handsome man. She liked him. But she knew now, better than before, that like was as much as there was to it. “I’m stuffed, thank you.”

  “I thought all women loved dessert. Marilyn would take home half her dinner just so she could have chocolate mousse.”

  Abby smiled mechanically. Maybe her lack of response finally connected in his brain because he dropped his head and sighed. “I’ve been a complete boor, haven’t I?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Yes, I have. I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you? Can I take you dancing?”

  Melina’s warning sounded in Abby’s head. “Thank you, but I’m not all that energetic on Friday nights. I know that sounds like something my old-maid aunt would say, but it’s been a long week at work.”

  He looked at her pointedly. “Is this about that cowboy and his kids?”

  A funny buzz skipped through her chest. “I’m handling the Butler case, but it’s just one of several. Roy was out two days with bronchitis, and Melina’s got cruise fever, so things are hectic.” He didn’t say anything, but the inscrutable stare continued. “Why’d you ask about the Butlers?”

  His finger tapped the leather folder containing their bill. “I don’t know. I’ve had a sense that you’re more…involved with this case than usual.”

  Abby’s heartbeat sped up and her face felt warm. “Perhaps I am. Tom Butler’s a friend of Maria Fuentes. Remember her from the Adelina Johnston case? I’m a sucker for kids in pain. What can I say?”

  He looked up. “Does the sam
e apply to men?”

  Abby’s pulse arched off the Richter scale. Did he mean Tom or himself? Fortunately, the waitress returned to pick up the check. While Daniel paid the bill, Abby excused herself to use the rest room.

  They made small talk on the way home and he gave her a light peck on the cheek when he dropped her off at her front door.

  “Well, girlfriend,” Donna said, returning. “Tell me all about it.”

  Abby put the back of her hand to her forehead theatrically. “Oh, pul…lease, let’s not go into that.”

  “I CALLED HER,” Angel said, straddling the threshold of the doorway to her father’s workroom.

  He was seated on a metal stool at his workbench. She wasn’t sure whether to go in or not. They hadn’t really talked much since Thursday night. He’d offered, but she hadn’t quite forgiven him for making her go to Rainbows, although in all honesty it hadn’t been as bad as she’d thought it was going to be. In a way, she liked being able to talk to other kids who’d had some of the same kind of sad things in their lives. One boy, four years older than her, lost both his parents to a murder-suicide. He was living with his grandparents. Talk about sucky.

  “Called who?” Tom asked, squinting against the bright sun behind her.

  She rolled her eyes. “Abby. You’re the one who left her card by the phone. Hint. Hint.”

  “Oh. That was nice of you. What’d she say?”

  “That she was sorry if she contributed to our stress. Like it was her fault I yelled at Heather. Why’d she care?” Angel took a step into the room to escape the heat at her back. She’d forgotten how damn hot this valley got in summer. Val and her mom had talked about putting in a pool this year.

  “Abby has a big heart, she cares a lot about everything. Remember what Maria told you about how Abby helped her cousin’s family?”

  Angel remembered. She’d listened avidly when Maria described her cousin’s murder and the custody battle. She didn’t know why, but lately she felt as if hearing about other people’s problems would make her feel better. Donna told her it was a common reaction to traumatic events, but Angel didn’t like the feeling. She planned on bringing it up at the next Rainbows meeting. It wouldn’t bother her so much if other people felt the same way.