“Sounds like quite a guy. Now he’ll have to deal with a female doctor, a P.A. he dislikes and a tattooed ex-trucker. He’ll probably decide he’s safer at the vet.”
CODY STOOD on the sidelines with his fists clenched, watching the other fourth grade boys gather around the football coach. He’d been given a time-out for the last half of the practice just because stupid Ricky Garner was a big fat baby. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t, wasn’t fair.
And now, because he couldn’t walk home like most of the other kids, he had to wait here for Mom…and she was at work, so she might be late. Fighting back tears, he blinked hard and watched the coach—one of the fourth grade teachers—clap Hayden Gallagher on the back.
At the edge of the schoolyard, a bunch of dads leaned against the hoods of their pickups. They’d been there the whole time, cheering and shouting, as if they were watching the Dallas Cowboys instead of some stupid grade school practice, where hardly anyone caught the ball and some of the kids cried if they got tackled just a little too hard.
“Come on over here, Cody,” the coach called out. “You need to hear this, too.”
A surge of rebellion made him want to stand still, but somehow his feet started moving. A couple of the kids snickered and elbowed each other when he reached the group, and he felt his face heat.
“…so tomorrow, be here right after school. We have enough boys so we can divide into two teams for practice. Got that? Three-thirty sharp, in uniform. And remind your parents, because we don’t always meet on Thursdays.”
The town boys raced for their bicycles. Others headed for their dads in the parking lot. Cody kicked at a clump of dry grass as he watched them go. Hayden’s dad came out onto the grass to meet his son halfway and—oh, boy—so did the neighbor guy who’d given Cody a ride on his horse last Friday night. Ryan somebody.
Jealousy burned through Cody. How fair was that? He had a dad, too, but he lived in Dallas and never found much time to visit. And when he did…
A single tear burned down Cody’s cheek, so he turned his back and angrily rubbed it away with the back of his hand, glad everyone was too far away to see.
“Hey, son, do you have a ride home?” The voice was deep and familiar, and Cody turned to find Ryan standing by the open door of a silver pickup. “Do you need to use my cell phone?”
The guy was sooo cool. Hayden had taken over Show and Tell for three days running, blabbing on and on about his uncle who went on secret missions for the army and had been badly hurt. Just having Ryan notice him made Cody feel warm inside, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Mom’s pickup coming down the street. “Nah, my mom’s here.”
Ryan looked up the street. “Is that her?”
Cody nodded, wishing she hadn’t showed up so soon.
“You did a great job at practice today. Keep it up.” He got in his truck and shut the door, but didn’t drive off until Mom’s truck pulled to a stop and Cody climbed in.
“Howdy, Tiger.” Mom reached over to give him a one-armed hug, then put the truck in gear and drove out of the parking lot. “Did you have a good time?”
Embarrassed by the hug, even though no other guys were around, Cody peered out the window and watched the silver pickup disappear.
Football wasn’t about having a good time. It was about being one of the guys, and trying superhard, and doing something better than you ever thought you could, so people would cheer and say you were great. It was about dads giving bear hugs and way-to-go! punches on a guy’s arm. It was about a lot of things Cody would never have, because he already knew he was awkward and slow…and his dad thought sports were boring.
“Why doesn’t Dad visit us?”
Mom glanced at him before she turned out onto the highway. “You saw him not too long ago—just a couple weeks before we moved.”
Cody picked at a ketchup stain on his jeans.
“Remember?” she coaxed. “You were there for the whole weekend, and he took you out for pizza.”
Where Dad had complained about the waiting line, the slow service and the pizza itself…and had grumbled the entire time about wanting to just walk out of the place. Back at his condo, his new wife, Darla, had kept frowning at Cody as if he might get things dirty if he even breathed. “Yeah, I remember.”
“You know how busy he is—he has a very important job at that bank, and he helps a lot of people. He’ll still come to see you, though, and I know you’ll get to visit him, too.” Mom gave Cody a teasing smile. “Why so glum? You’ve got someone named Rebel waiting for you, and that sure wouldn’t have happened in the city.”
“Can we ride tonight?”
“You bet. If you do your homework while I make supper, we’ll have plenty of daylight left. And I know just the place I’d like to go.”
RYAN PULLED TO A STOP on the crest of the hill overlooking the Four Aces. Below him lay white-fenced corrals, horse barns and loafing sheds, and farther on, the cattle pens. On another gentle rise, the sprawling brick house that had once been his home.
It sure didn’t feel like home anymore, though, and after a week of living under that roof, he figured he’d be happier just about anywhere else.
Trevor put in twelve-hour days as the foreman, then went home to his wife and family. Garrett still hadn’t shown up after his last rodeo…and after supper, Adelfa retired to her own apartment at the back of the main house. Mom had been living in Dallas for years.
That left only Clint, who holed up in his office until nearly midnight working on his upcoming reelection campaign and fielding countless phone calls that came in on his private office line.
The house felt hollow, echoing with memories. It offered far too much solitude now. Too much time to think. To second-guess.
And to mourn.
Shaking off his melancholy thoughts, he promptly ended up with yet another—Kristin. Leland had suggested that Kristin might have received some embezzled money from her father, but that sure didn’t seem plausible.
She was homesteading a rundown house in the middle of nowhere. She drove a rusted truck and mostly wore old T-shirts and jeans. There hadn’t been any evidence of new bikes or expensive toys for Cody at that place, and Ryan had a feeling that if anyone enjoyed nicer things in that family, it would be him.
Kristin’s boy. According to Trevor, Cody was in Hayden’s class at school, but the similarity pretty much ended there.
Hayden was a handful. Wild and exuberant, he was always looking for adventure, his eyes full of mischief and a fast comeback ready at any time.
Standing out on the field alone this afternoon, his chin raised at a belligerent angle and his hands jammed in his pockets, Cody looked like the loneliest kid Ryan had ever seen. There was anger in him, too, and defiance…yet he’d seemed almost pathetically grateful when Ryan had offered the use of his cell phone. What was going on there?
Abuse came to mind. But Kristin had never seemed the type, and there didn’t seem to be a dad in the picture anymore.
Ryan felt a twinge of anger. She’d kicked him aside like a pile of dirty laundry when she learned that he wouldn’t inherit any part of the ranch. After that, Kristin had gone after the first rich boy she met. And apparently that hadn’t lasted, either.
And now the one who was suffering was that young boy.
The children…it was always the children who suffered most. He closed his eyes against the images from the Middle East that still haunted his nights, but he couldn’t block the sounds. The screams. Bowing his head, he immersed himself in the guilt and the horror of it all. There was nothing he could do to change things. Nothing he could do to bring them back.
All he could do was remember…and remember. Until the day he died.
The roar of a truck shook him out of his private memorial. In the rearview mirror he saw a cloud of dust boiling skyward behind a pickup that had to be doing nearly seventy on a gravel road.
He threw his truck into gear and pulled way over to the side, hoping the driver didn’t lose
control at the crest of the hill. Seconds later, gravel hit the side of his truck like a barrage of buckshot as the vehicle thundered by.
Ryan followed the other driver home and parked next to him. He was out of his truck and at the other driver’s door as the guy stepped out. “I hope there was a fire,” he snapped. “You could’ve killed someone driving like that.”
The man hoisted a bull rope onto his shoulder, turned and gave him an arrogant grin. Garrett. “Just clockin’ good time out of town. Most people are smart enough to get out of my way.”
Ryan’s anger blazed. “But everyone deserves to live, punk. You’re just too dumb to realize it.”
Garrett tipped back his head and laughed, his brash cockiness unfazed. “Well, aren’t we lucky. The big hero is back. I can’t wait to see what happens around here now.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
IF SHE WAS EVER going to find out the truth about her dad, she’d have to start asking the right people in town, which meant she’d have to get closer to the Gallaghers. Clint’s hostility had only firmed her resolve.
Tomorrow, she would stop in at the sheriff’s office, and this evening, she and Cody were going for a nice ride…in the right direction.
When they reached the end of their pasture, she twisted in her saddle and rested a palm on Boots’s broad rump. A rusted pipe gate led into the vast, deserted reaches of the K-Bar-C ranch, where there would be many other homesteaders someday. “How’s it going?”
Cody tipped his junior-size Stetson back with a forefinger, mimicking the cowboys he’d seen in town. “Way cool. Rebel is the best ever!”
“Yes, he is.” The gentle gelding plodded along, his head low and swinging with every step. So far, he’d ignored grouse flying up in front of his nose, a pair of deer bounding through the trees and had sidestepped an armadillo trundling across the path. For an inexperienced nine-year-old rider, Rebel was worth his weight in gold.
She dismounted and wrestled with the rusted hook and chain, opened the gate and led her horse through, then waited for Cody to pass. “We’ll just leave this open while we ride. Miranda tells me that the Home Free program owns over five hundred acres of open pasture adjoining our land, and she says it’s okay to ride back here for now.”
Cody lifted a water bottle from his horn bag—the small saddlebags hanging from either side of his saddle horn—and took a long swallow. “We shoulda brought a picnic supper.”
“Maybe next time. I’m sure we’ll be riding here a lot.”
The plat maps she’d studied showed that the western edge of her property curved to the west a mile or so from her pasture gate. There, if she’d guessed right, they’d almost be within sight of the main barns and house at the Four Aces.
With luck, they might see someone across the fence and strike up a casual conversation. A ranch hand who’d worked with her father would be perfect, because Clint had made it clear enough that she wasn’t welcome on his ranch, or near his precious son.
“This is just like in the movies,” Cody breathed. “I bet there were cowboys and Indians here once.”
“There still are,” she said dryly.
Cody rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, like the Old West. Can we gallop?”
“Western horses lope. But no, I think we need to work more on jogging first. I’ll jog, and you see if you can make Rebel jog, too. Just squeeze with your lower legs and click your tongue at him if he doesn’t go.”
Boots moved into a nice slow jog with the barest pressure of her calves. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Rebel still plodding along half asleep. “Well, try nudging him with both heels, then…okay, now try again, harder.”
Rebel belatedly lifted his head and must’ve realized he was being left behind. He sped up into a rough, fast trot, with Cody hanging on to the horn and laughing as he bounced haphazardly in the saddle. Once they caught up, the old gelding slowed to match Boots’s speed.
“I did good, right? I stayed on, and I made him go!”
It had likely been herd instinct rather than boy power that launched the horse briefly into second gear, but Kristin just gave Cody an encouraging smile. “You’re getting better every day.”
They followed the fence line, winding through stands of cedar and live oak, over sandy, pebbled ground and several grassy, low-lying meadows. Rocky crags jutted out of the hillsides, and at the top of each rise, the beauty of the rolling land made her wish she were good with watercolors.
Her hope of seeing someone from the neighboring ranch faded when they reached a tumbledown line shack in a hollow several miles from home. A glance at her watch told her it was time to head back.
“Cool! Can we explore it?” Cody leaned out of his saddle to peer at the broken timbers and sagging walls. “No.” Visions of rattlesnakes and scorpions hiding there made her speak too sharply. “Stay on your horse, Cody!”
Startled, Cody twisted around to look at her. With a cry he lost his balance and slid into a heap on the ground at his horse’s feet. “Ouch!” he yelped, jerked his hand back. “Stickers!”
Rebel promptly lowered his head and nibbled at dry tufts of grass, apparently unfazed by the fall, and grateful for any opportunity to graze.
Dismounting, Kristin tied Boots to a nearby cedar tree, then eased over to grab Rebel’s reins. She hunkered down next to Cody. “Are you okay, honey?”
“No! Look.” His lower lip trembling, he held up a hand festooned with a haze of fine, nearly invisible cactus spines. “They burn—really bad.” He lifted his tear-filled gaze up to his saddle. “How am I gonna get back up there?”
“No worries, sweetie. I’ll lift you up, so you don’t need to pull yourself up with that hand. I’m sure Rebel will just follow Boots home so you won’t have to guide him at all.”
“But it hurts.”
It certainly wasn’t going to be a fun trip home for him, even with his horse on autopilot. By the time they reached home each little cactus spine would have inflamed the skin around it, making the removal with tweezers even more painful.
“I know it hurts, sweetie. Here let me help you stand up.” Hooking the joint of her elbow under his other arm, she hoisted him to his feet. “Now, let me—”
At a movement along the cedar-crested ridge to the west she fell silent, her pulse tripping. There shouldn’t be any large predators out here—nothing more than coyotes—but she’d glimpsed something larger. A horse?
“What’s wrong, Mom? What do you see?” His voice tinged with panic, Cody grabbed her arm with his good hand.
A second later she breathed a sigh of relief as a horse and rider emerged from the trees far beyond the Four Aces fence line. “Just someone else out riding.”
He looked up at her with damp eyes. “Maybe he has tweezers.”
The broad-shouldered rider started down the long hill toward them. “I sort of doubt it, Cody.”
“But you’ll ask, right? Please?”
They were probably close to the Four Aces buildings, but a lone woman and child could still be at risk in an isolated place. The guy heading their way could be anyone.
“I’ll ask. But first let’s get you up on your horse.”
He gingerly grabbed for the horn with his good hand as she gave him a leg up into the saddle, then she remounted Boots. By the time she’d reached over to knot the ends of Rebel’s reins for Cody, so they couldn’t fall to the ground, the other rider had loped to the fence line.
At first glance she thought he was Ryan, with those blue eyes and wavy black hair, but where Ryan was toned and muscular, this man was thickset and developing a heavy belly that hung over the trophy buckle on his belt. Trevor, she figured, though she’d only met him briefly many years before.
“Howdy, ma’am. Everthin’ goin’ all right? Did the boy get hurt?”
“That’s Hayden’s dad,” Cody stage-whispered. “I see him at football practice all the time.”
“Just a little tumble into some cactus…and an unhappy boy,” she called to him. “No br
oken bones, but thanks for asking.”
“Trevor Gallagher.” He touched the brim of his hat. “And you must be Miz Cantrell. I’ve seen you and the boy at school.”
“Just Kristin is fine. This is my son, Cody. We just moved into the place next door.”
He smiled at them. “Come on over here and let me take a look.”
Kristin and Cody rode alongside the fence, and Cody held out his hand.
“Whoo-eee, I bet that stings.” Trevor gave him a man-to-man appraisal. “You’re one tough cowboy, let me tell you.” He paused, considering, then reached for the cell phone clipped to his belt. “My wife, Donna, is good at taking those out, but our house is on the other side of the Four Aces. The main place is closer. She could meet us there, if you want to take care of this before you go home. She’s a whiz with tweezers…though I’m sure your mom is, too.”
Kristin bit her lower lip. “But our horses—how far is it?”
He pointed to the south. “There’s a gate down in that next draw—we can get you through there. If we need to, we can trailer your horses home. It’ll be dark before you know it.”
Remembering Clint’s harsh last words at the clinic, she hesitated. Alone, she wouldn’t care, but there was no way she wanted to risk Cody witnessing his wrath. He’d seen entirely too much of that from his own father. “Are you sure this will be okay…with Mr. Gallagher?”
Trevor shrugged. “Why not? He’s holed up in his office anyway. He almost never comes out to the barn.”
She would’ve done anything to take back her sharp words that made Cody lose his balance. She’d gladly have taken the cactus spines in her own hand. But there was a silver lining. While they were at the Four Aces, she could ask a few questions.
She owed her dad that much.
THE THREE OF THEM tied their horses to the hitching rail in front of a long, low horse barn, and Trevor escorted them inside to an office, where Cody could rinse his hands in the adjoining bathroom.
Trevor’s wife walked in minutes later, her long black ponytail brushing the waistband of her jeans.
A Home in Hill Country (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 6