“Your injury changed your life.”
Ridge flinched as if Shane had slapped him. He was still sensitive about the memory of the renegade bronc that had rolled over on him, crushing his hand and ending his rodeo career. “Low blow, bro. And, besides, where would I be without Sierra? I couldn’t get past rodeo. Couldn’t figure out what to do, because I resisted any kind of change. It’s a reflex in us—don’t know why. Maybe we’re so surprised to find a life that works that we’re afraid to let go of it.”
“It’s different. Sierra had a job.” Shane chose to ignore the dig about resisting change. “Lindsey doesn’t have any kind of experience with this kind of thing.”
“She’s a vet, right? Just about the hardest schooling there is. Seems to me that’s one big dream she already made true.”
“Look, I like animals as much as the next guy. I hate to see ’em abused or neglected. That’s why I’ve put up with Grace’s ponies for all these years. But it’s the cattle that support those horses. I can’t see changing the whole ranch into to a sanctuary. It won’t last. It’s a pipe dream.”
“So’s this.” Ridge swept his arm to encompass the landscape at Decker Ranch—the ranch house, the big barn, the horses grazing peacefully in the fields. “Did you ever think we’d have lives like this?”
“No,” Shane said. “I was too busy trying to find something to eat.”
Ridge gave him a long, hard look, then left him alone with his dark thoughts.
Resting his forearms on the gate, Shane watched the buckskin do a complicated dance of advance and retreat with Suze and thought back, way back, into his past. He remembered the darkness. The acrid scent of his mother’s cheap perfume wafting from piles of unwashed laundry.
He remembered the fear. The cramps in his legs from sitting in the back of the closet for so long, trying to make himself small.
He could see light under the door, and he held his breath, wondering if someone would let him out. Maybe it would be his mother. Maybe she’d give him something to eat.
Or maybe it would be his father, his temper brittle and jagged because they’d run out of drugs. They ran out of drugs a lot. He’d haul Shane out by his collar, punch him again and again.
Shane shrank farther back into the disorganized depths of the closet, pulling down one of his mother’s dresses to hide himself.
But he knew it wouldn’t help. His parents would find him, and he deserved a beating because he’d had to go. He’d really, really had to go, and he’d held it and held it, but finally he’d felt the telltale warmth seeping out, soiling his pants, and he’d cried because he knew only babies wet themselves. Being a little kid was no excuse. He was old enough to be a man when it came to stuff like that.
If they let him eat, he wouldn’t drink so much this time. Just a sip.
He licked his dry lips. Maybe two sips.
But if they noticed the stain on his pants, there wouldn’t be anything to drink.
“Hey.” Shane was startled by the heavy beat of hooves approaching and stumbling to a stop. “You okay?”
He looked up at Suze, who was sitting atop the buckskin as if she owned the horse. There was no eye rolling now, no fear. The horse had given over control to his expert rider, and he looked content with the exchange—a little bit of his freedom in exchange for security.
“I’m fine,” Shane said. “Looks like you tamed the beast there.”
She grinned. “He just had to find the person who fit him. He and I are a lot alike.”
Shane laughed. “That horse is crazy, and you’re the most disciplined person I know.”
Suze tugged gently on the reins and the horse backed up a few steps. “We’re the same at heart,” she said. “We both like to run.”
Shane nodded. “I guess you’re right.”
“You and Lindsey are alike at heart too, you know.”
Shane looked up at her, both shocked and annoyed. Apparently there was some conspiracy afoot—a conspiracy among his family to force him to think about the one woman in the world he wanted to forget.
“How are we alike?” he asked. “I’m only asking because I know you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“You’re caretakers,” Suze said.
“What?”
“Brady’s always telling me how you took care of him and Ridge. At the home and, even later, at Bill’s. He says you’ve always been the big brother, making sure they got what they needed even when it meant you got less.”
Shane felt the hot sting of tears behind his eyes. He’d never thought his brothers had noticed the sacrifices he’d made. It touched him deeply to know they remembered.
“And Cody. Brady says it about killed you when you couldn’t find him and take care of him the way you’d taken care of them.”
“So how does that make me like Lindsey?”
“She’s a caretaker too. Look at how she is with Grace. And when it comes to animals, she doesn’t want to see a single one suffer.” Suze cocked her head. “Did you ever talk much about her childhood?”
Shane shook his head, feeling a cold stone of guilt sink into his gut. He knew Lindsey’s mother had died when she was fairly young, but she’d never said a word about it.
No, she probably couldn’t get a word in edgewise while he was talking about his own troubles.
“You should ask her.”
She was right. He should.
Suze eased the horse around and rode quietly away, two souls moving as one.
He stood there awhile, thinking. Sierra would say he was brooding, but he was just thinking things through. Maybe he should have taken a different tack with Lindsey.
Maybe he should stop talking and start listening.
Chapter 49
Lindsey was cleaning up the supper dishes when Cody barged into the ranch house, slamming the screen door behind him. Shane and Cody hadn’t joined her and Grace for dinner—not for two days. This was the first she’d seen of either of them since her fight with Shane.
Cody’s face was streaked with tears.
“I can’t find Stormy,” he said. “I looked everywhere, Lindsey.” The tears gave way to a huge sob and a frantic gulping for air. “My dad’s going to be so mad. I wasn’t watching him, and I turned around and he was gone.”
She knelt on the floor, tugging the cuff of her shirt over the heel of her hand and wiping the boy’s face. She did her best to swallow the anger that welled up in her—anger at Shane. The last thing a boy with a lost puppy should have to worry about was his dad’s reaction. His dire warnings had only made the disaster he claimed was inevitable even more traumatic.
“Hush. Your dad won’t be mad. He’ll be sorry you’re so sad. Now, where did you last see Stormy?”
“On the rocks. There.” Cody pointed toward a distant collection of boulders that were stacked on the level prairie like toys some glacial giant had left behind.
“You were playing on the rocks?”
The tears began again, along with the gasping. “J-j-just for a little while. We went there with Dad, and I threw sticks for Stormy from the very, very top, and he liked it. So I went back.” The boy melted into the kind of miserable, snotty mass only a repentant six-year-old can become. “Dad told me not to go there by myself. He’s gonna be so mad.”
“He won’t be mad.” Lindsey prayed she was right. “He’ll help us find him. How long has Stormy been missing?”
“Couple hours.” Cody looked down, shamefaced. “I was scared to say. Dad just got home, but…” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I’m scared to tell him.”
Lindsey felt that rage rise up again, but she swallowed it down and took Cody by the hand. “Come on,” she said. “You have to tell your dad so he can help. I’ll go with you.”
She marched across the driveway, Cody trotting at her heels.
“You’re not mad, are you?” he asked.
“No, honey, of course not.”
“Oh.” There was a pause as he panted in his struggle to keep up
with her long stride. “You seem mad.”
“I’m just upset, that’s all. I’m worried about Stormy.”
This was absolutely the wrong thing to say. She realized that when the waterworks started afresh, tears mingling on the boy’s face with dirt and previous tears until he looked like a soldier in camouflage.
Lindsey marched up to the cabin. Shane had just returned from wherever he’d run off to. She hoped he’d managed to improve his mood.
He was doing dishes too, and a pot of spaghetti sauce was simmering on the stove.
“Dinner’s almost ready, Cody.” He turned to see Lindsey and something in his manner changed—something so subtle she couldn’t tell if he was still angry with her or not. It didn’t matter much to her. She could deal with his anger, but she didn’t think she’d ever get over her disillusionment if Shane met Cody’s confession with a snarl.
Then again, disillusionment might be a good thing for her, considering that the mere sight of him still made her foolish heart go pit-a-pat, despite his scorn for her plans.
“Cody has a problem,” she said. “Don’t be—”
Cody didn’t give her a chance to intercede. He simply raced to his father, threw his arms around him, and cried, “Stormy’s missing! He’s been gone two hours! And it’s all my fault!”
Shane took a red bandanna out of his back pocket and gently wiped his son’s tears. “Tell me what happened.”
Cody sagged into his father with a long, shuddering sob. “We were playing at the rocks,” he mumbled into Shane’s shirtfront. “I know we weren’t supposed to, but—”
“That doesn’t matter right now,” Shane said. “Let’s just concentrate on finding Stormy.”
Lindsey felt something inside her twirl around and shoot a happy fist in the air. Shane wasn’t going to bring up Cody’s disobedience. He knew his son had been punished enough.
After a long, drawn-out sniffle, Cody continued. “I was throwing the stick for him. And then this one time, he couldn’t find it, so I jumped down and…”
He glanced up at Shane’s face, as if to see if jumping off the rocks would provoke his fatherly wrath. When it didn’t, he kept going.
“I jumped down and tried to find it, but it went in the tall grass, so me and Stormy kind of split up, I guess. He thought it was one place, but I was sure it was over by the big tree, so I went over there and then I realized things were awful quiet and I called him and called him and he didn’t come. So then I came home, ’cause I thought maybe he just gave up, you know, but he wasn’t here either. And I checked the barn because sometimes he likes to roll in horse shit, but he wasn’t there either.”
Lindsey almost laughed, but Shane kept his parental cool.
“Language,” he cautioned.
Cody looked up at him, confused. “But you call it that.”
“You’re right. I do. But I shouldn’t.” Shane sighed and squatted down to look his son in the eye. “I tell you what. I want you to go to the big house and sit with Grace.”
“But I have to look for Stormy.”
“It’s a job for grown-ups now, okay? I want you to stay with Grace. Tell her what happened. Maybe she’ll play a game with you. Keep your mind off it.”
He hugged his son, and the pain in his face as he closed his eyes and moved his lips in a silent prayer made Lindsey love him in spite of herself. The tenderness in his tone was like a thin dusting of ash coating hot coals of anguish. Something had hurt his boy, and she had no doubt he intended to either undo the hurt or have vengeance.
Cody ran off, following orders, while Shane stalked away toward the front door. Lindsey didn’t mind being ignored, knowing he had more important things to worry about than her sensitive feelings. She’d heard coyotes howling just the night before, so she knew there was a good chance Stormy wasn’t coming home. The hour before sunset was the witching hour for predators, and Stormy might have met a very unhappy fate.
As she headed back to the house, she was struck with inspiration. She’d selected Ed Brockman’s puppy mill as the site of the Rescue Ranch’s first major operation. She hated to give the man any business, but picking up a new puppy for Cody would give her a good excuse to investigate the premises. Grabbing her purse, she plucked her grandfather’s truck keys from their hook by the front door. She could hear Grace’s gentle voice reading some sort of story to Cody.
Perfect. Grace could read stories like nobody else. She could be dramatic when she wanted to, giving every character his or her own voice. But she could also lull her audience to sleep, and sleep was what Cody needed.
As she headed for the truck, Shane strode across the yard, a rifle in one hand.
“You think something got him?”
“I’m sure of it. Haven’t I been saying it would happen?”
She decided not to mention the hypothetical cliff and the imaginary well. Shane’s fears weren’t always going to come true, but this time he might have been right. Her heart ached for Cody, and she tried her best not to picture the puppy’s probable fate.
“Wouldn’t we have heard something? Wouldn’t Cody?”
He shrugged. “It’s amazing how quick and quiet some predators can be.”
“I thought coyotes always howled before they ate, to call the pack.”
“Not always. And it might not have been a coyote. There’s been some talk of a mountain lion in the area.”
Despite her love for living things and her understanding of nature’s brutal necessities, Lindsey felt like she could shoot Stormy’s killer herself. But revenge never did much real good, and one dead coyote would simply be replaced by another living coyote.
“I’ve got a better idea,” she said.
Shane’s lips thinned to a grim straight line as he took in her purse and keys. “Thought you didn’t approve of puppy mills.”
“I don’t. But this is a chance to check and see if that’s what’s going on. And besides.” She gestured helplessly toward the cabin, where she’d last seen the inconsolable Cody.
“Aren’t you the one who said he was bound to cry once in a while? That we can’t protect him from pain?”
“We can’t. But we can cheer him up a little.” She hoped so, anyway. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to check out your friend the so-called dog breeder.”
“He’s no friend of mine. Sometimes you have to go along to get along, that’s all.”
“Mistreating animals isn’t something I can just go along with.” Lindsey hated the sound of her superior tone, but she couldn’t help herself.
“There’s no way he’s got any kind of breeding operation going on over there,” Shane said. “I mean, you’ve seen the place. Where?”
“That’s what bothers me,” Lindsey said. “He has a sign advertising ten different breeds of puppies, and I’ve never seen a dog outside the place or heard barking.” She tilted her head, wondering what Shane knew. Surely he was some sort of friend to Brockman. Hadn’t he recommended that she sell the man the ranch? “Where do you suppose he has them?”
“I don’t know.” Shane shrugged. “He doesn’t have a barn—just that ugly old Quonset hut, and I’ve seen the inside of that. It’s mostly car parts and junk.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t make Ed mad.”
“Why not?”
“Like I said, sometimes you have to go along to get along.”
“You have to do that.” She tossed her hair. “I don’t.”
“Okay.” He put up his hands, palms out, in surrender. “He just gives me the creeps, okay? Be careful.”
Lindsey nodded. Finally, they agreed on something.
Chapter 50
“Oh, he’s a darlin’, that one is,” said Connie Brockman.
Ed’s wife perched her ample bottom in a spindly kitchen chair to watch Lindsey play with an assortment of five Yorkie pups her husband had brought in. Lindsey’s efforts to discover where the puppies were kept had been frustrated somehow. One minute, she and Connie were chatti
ng; then Ed was there, puppies in hand.
Lindsey set down the puppy she’d been holding and watched him stagger off on unsteady legs to join his littermates. “I’d like to see the parents,” she said.
“They’re not on-site,” Ed said.
“You’ve separated pups this young from their mother already?”
Ed cleared his throat, as if that could erase his lie. “Well, I meant the sire. The sire’s not on-site, and seeing the bitch won’t do you much good. You know it’s the father’s attributes that come out in the pups.”
“No, I don’t know that at all.” Sitting back on her heels, Lindsey looked Ed in the eye. “I’m not buying a puppy if I can’t at least see the mother.”
“You go on and get her, honey.” Connie gave Ed a sickly smile. “Me and Miss Ward will just sit here and play with the pups.”
Lindsey was determined to see where Ed went, but she was distracted when a puppy stumbled over and attacked her hostess’s shoelace.
“Oh, get him off me!” Connie kicked out with her foot and sent the pup sailing through the air. Fortunately, he landed unhurt in the midst of his brothers and sisters, but Lindsey wondered why a woman who didn’t even appear to like dogs would set herself up as a breeder.
Money, no doubt.
Glancing up at the window, she saw Ed carrying a small black-and-brown bundle along the side of the house, as if coming from the back. She hadn’t noticed any outbuildings back there, but maybe she needed to look a little harder. There might be a tumbledown shed of some sort back in the untamed trees that bordered the yard.
“Here she is,” Ed said. “Our little Maybelle.”
Their little Maybelle was quivering like an aspen leaf, eyes wide and frightened. Her fur stuck up in dirty clumps, and from the way Ed clutched her, it was obvious he was hiding something.
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