As his father’s voice played in his head, Clay’s surroundings melted away. He was no longer in the busy café, but instead was in the small farmhouse where he’d been beaten and abused on a regular basis. Old anger combined with a wealth of remembered pain and whirled around in his head.
A warm touch to the back of his hand on the table pulled him out of his miserable memories. He blinked and Miranda came back into focus, her pretty eyes filled with concern. “Clay, you don’t have to talk about any of this if you don’t want to.”
He flashed her a practiced carefree smile. “No, it’s fine. I ran away because my father was a brutal man who beat me almost every day.”
“And your mother?”
“Left when I was eight years old.” He kept his smile in place even as his heart constricted with the bewilderment and abandonment of a little boy. “She left and I never saw her again.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Clay.”
“All’s well that ends well, right? My life might have had a bit of a rough start, but I had a really good life with Cass on the ranch and hope to remain working on the ranch for a long time to come. And now are you ready for some dessert?”
He tried not to tap into those memories of his parents too often because they brought such pain with them. He just wanted to change the subject now and not think about that time of his life anymore.
They lingered over apple pie and coffee. She shared the antics of some of her students, making him laugh, and he in turn told her about the mischief and the bonding of the twelve young men who had come to Cass’s ranch as nothing more than kids.
“There was one summer when firecrackers and smoke bombs were popular among us boys,” he said. “We’d toss the smoke bombs into a bathroom in one of the bunk rooms when the occupant was...uh...taking care of business. The cowboy would race outside, pulling up his britches and cussing as pink smoke surrounded him.”
“That’s awful,” she said with a laugh.
“It is. We thought it was hilarious, but at the time we were all about fourteen years old. Boys that age think stuff like that is funny. That was about the same time we started sneaking in to Sawyer’s room and putting different things into his bed.”
“I know Sawyer. Janis is a friend of mine,” she replied.
Sawyer Quincy was a fellow cowboy at the ranch and he’d found his forever gal in Janis Little, a pretty woman who worked as a waitress at the Watering Hole.
“Yeah, but I’ll bet you didn’t know that Sawyer sleeps like a dead person, especially if he’s had a few beers, although he’s completely quit drinking now.”
“So, what kinds of things did you put in his bed?” she asked, her eyes sparkling as if in anticipation of another laugh.
“Tuna, dead fish...stinky cheese,” he stopped talking as he looked just past her shoulder and saw a familiar trio of young men approaching their booth. “Brace yourself,” he said. “Here comes potential trouble.”
Before he could say anything more, Robby, Jason and Glen stopped at the side of their table. “Ms. Silver, we want to talk to you. I know we acted like jerks last night at the carnival,” Robby said. “To be honest, we were pretty drunk.” His cheeks burned a bright red.
“But we would never do anything to hurt you,” Glen blurted out. “We’d never do anything to really hurt anyone.”
“Chief Bowie told us what happened to you and I swear we had nothing to do with it,” Robby continued. “Somebody throwing acid...that’s, like, totally messed up.”
“Yeah, and we’d never do anything like that,” Jason said.
They all appeared quite earnest and Clay was inclined to believe them, but he also knew how well teenagers could look somebody right in the eye and lie. “I appreciate you stopping by to tell me that,” Miranda said.
“If we hadn’t seen you here, then we were planning on coming to talk to you before school started on Monday morning. I’ll admit we were all drinking a little bit and acted like total idiots, but there’s no way we’d do something like what happened to you.”
Robby looked at Clay and his cheeks flushed a pale pink. “And I’m sorry I was disrespectful to you. I was being stupid and trying to look cool, but it wasn’t cool.”
“Apology accepted,” Clay said.
“Then we’ll just leave you alone now,” Glen said.
“They really aren’t bad kids,” Miranda said as the three left their booth and instead took a table closer to the front of the café. “I believe they’re innocent in what happened.” She frowned and raised a hand to her cheek, as if imagining what might have happened had the acid made contact with her skin.
“Hey, hey...no frowning,” he said. “We agreed we weren’t going to think about this tonight. Besides, frowning and stewing about it won’t get us any answers.”
“You’re right,” she said and dropped her hand back to the table. “This has been nice. Thank you, Clay, for getting me out of the house this evening and being such good company.”
It had been better than nice for him. He’d waited all evening to get a sign, a familiar bad feeling that she just wasn’t the one for him, but tonight had done nothing to put him off. Rather, as the evening was wrapping up he was already looking forward to the next time they’d be together.
A half an hour later they pulled up in the driveway of her house. “No need for you to get out of the truck,” she said as she opened the passenger door.
“Nonsense, I always walk a lady to her front door,” he replied and got out of the truck.
It was a beautiful evening. The moon was almost full and stars lit the endless night sky. He was so hoping to get another kiss from her.
As they walked up toward her front door, that’s all he could think about. Her soft, warm lips would probably taste a little of cinnamon from the piece of apple pie she’d enjoyed. He wanted to taste that...he wanted to taste her mouth once again.
The walkway from where he parked to her front door suddenly seemed to go on forever. He just wanted to reach the door and kiss her.
“Thanks, Clay, for a wonderful evening,” she said.
“No problem. I’ve really enjoyed it. I guess I’ll see you Monday afternoon when I come to practice with Henry,” he said as she turned to unlock her front door.
“Okay, then I’ll see you Monday,” she replied without turning back around to face him, and then she was gone...locked inside her house while he stood on her porch with an insatiable hunger that wouldn’t be satisfied tonight.
* * *
Miranda released a deep sigh as the school bell rang to release the students from another day of school. Mondays were usually tough days, but today had been particularly long and stressful.
She’d tossed and turned most of the night before, still thinking about some acid-throwing madman. When she finally fell asleep, her dreams had been of a tall figure chasing her down a dark street with a large canister of what she knew was acid in his hand.
During her drive to work that morning she’d been half-scared that somebody would do something to her again. She’d been afraid to be in her car, and then she’d been afraid to walk the distance from the staff parking to the school door.
Had she been the specific target of the acid attack? Would that person attack her again? If so, then where and when? How did she go about protecting herself from an attack...an attacker not yet identified?
And if she wasn’t worrying about that, she was thinking about Clay and his warm smile and even warmer kiss. She thought about how strong and supportive he’d been through the whole ordeal. He’d shown up to check in on her during the morning hours on Saturday and she suspected he’d invited her to dinner in an effort to make her feel safe.
She had to stop spending time with him. There was no question he was a danger to her. Certainly he wasn’t a physical danger, but, oh...he was such a danger to her desire not to get involved
with him.
Every little thing she learned about him only whetted her appetite to know a little bit more. The small glimpse she’d had into his childhood had not only half-broken her heart for him but had also made her wonder what kind of internal scars had been left behind.
And wondering was definitely dangerous. To wonder about him implied an interest in him, a desire to know more about him. She didn’t want to acknowledge she felt that way.
When he’d brought her home from the café, she intentionally hadn’t turned around to tell him good-night. The setting had been too evocative, with the moon and stars bright overhead and Clay’s desire shining from his eyes.
She somehow knew he’d intended to kiss her again and she couldn’t allow that to happen. She liked kissing him too much, and besides, friends shouldn’t kiss that way. Even thinking about it caused a rivulet of warmth to work through her.
Fellow teacher Paula Durrand stepped into Miranda’s classroom. Paula was a petite brunette who taught algebra. She, too, was divorced and had two young children, and the two women had often commiserated with each other about being single parents.
“Hey, are you getting out of here tonight or have you decided to spend the night?” she asked with a grin.
“If I was going to spend the night without my kids and away from my home, this definitely wouldn’t be the place I’d choose to stay.” Miranda laughed. “I’ve had more than enough of here for one day.”
“Usually you’re gone before I leave.” Paula perched her trim bottom on the corner of Miranda’s desk. “Everything okay with you?”
“As okay as it can be. I just got caught up in my own thoughts and temporarily lost track of time.”
“I’m sure you can’t help but think about what happened at the carnival on Friday night and I’m sorry you have to even think about that,” Paula said sympathetically. “When I heard about it, I was horrified.”
“That makes two of us,” Miranda replied dryly. “I can’t help that it keeps playing over and over again in my mind. I just wish Dillon would figure out who is responsible and get the person behind bars.”
“Even if the attack was random, it’s appalling that anyone would do something like that here in Bitterroot. You sometimes hear about these things happening in a bigger city but usually it’s the work of a crazy spurned lover.”
“And I certainly don’t have any of those in my life,” Miranda replied.
Paula stood. “Get your things together and I’ll walk you to your car.”
Minutes later the two women exited the high school. It was another beautiful day with the sun shining brightly in a perfect blue sky.
As they walked toward the staff parking lot they shared complaints about a couple of the students. “I’m tempted to get a cord and tie Bret Samuels to his chair for the duration of the rest of my classes with him. I swear that kid spent most of the class time today wandering around the room and distracting the other students.”
“All that would get you is fired,” Miranda replied with a laugh. “Just remember, there are only seven more days left. After next Monday we can relax.”
“And start preparing for another year of hell.” Paula laughed. “You know I’m just venting after a particularly long day. I absolutely love what I do.”
“I know that. How are the kids?”
“They’re doing okay. Jimmy has decided he wants to be an astronaut and has taken to wearing a helmet all the time, including to bed.”
Miranda laughed. “Henry wants to be a cowboy like Clay Madison.”
Paula’s dark eyes gazed at her curiously. “What’s up with the two of you? I know you were with him at the carnival, and rumor has it the two of you were eating at the café on Saturday night.”
“We’re just friends. It’s no big deal,” Miranda replied quickly. Instantly her brain filled with the memory of his kiss and heat leaped into her cheeks.
“None of my male friends make me blush like you’re doing right now,” Paula said with a knowing grin.
“I could never have a romantic relationship with Clay. He’s too much like Hank. I know he hangs out at the Watering Hole a lot and everyone knows about his reputation with the women.”
“Clay is nothing like your ex-husband,” Paula scoffed. “Clay works hard and if he wants to spend his downtime dancing and drinking at the Watering Hole and taking women out on dates, at least he’s single. Hank did all of that when he was married to you. Sorry to say it so bluntly, but we both know it’s the truth.”
They reached Miranda’s car. “This is a crazy conversation to be having, because Clay and I are just friends.”
“If you say so,” Paula replied with an easy laugh.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Paula.”
“Bright and early. Have a good night.” As Paula headed to her own car parked nearby, Miranda slid into hers. She started the engine and glanced at the clock on the dash. Thank goodness Paula had pulled her out of her reverie in the classroom. Henry and Jenny would be getting off their bus and heading for home in fifteen minutes. She’d now have to hurry to beat them home.
They would freak out if they got home and she wasn’t there.
She pulled out of the parking lot and onto Main Street. There was only one stoplight in the center of town. Hopefully she’d have the green light and could whiz right on through.
She stepped on the gas and thought about what she was going to fix for dinner. She’d taken chicken breasts out of the freezer that morning. Maybe she’d do chicken parmesan with a side of spaghetti. The kids would like that. They loved anything that included pasta.
What she didn’t want to think about was the conversation she’d just had with Paula about Clay. She supposed every person in town assumed she and Clay were dating and that was just another reason for her to keep her distance from him from now on.
Glancing down at her speedometer she realized she was speeding, and a short distance away she could see that the approaching traffic light was red.
She stepped on her brake. The pedal slammed down to the floorboards and did nothing to slow her car. Panic leapt into her throat. She tromped on the brake pedal again.
Horror shot an icy chill through her. Oh, God, she had no brakes. She was going way too fast. Ahead of her a delivery truck pulled into the intersection to make a left turn and in horror she realized she was going to hit it broadside.
“No...no...no!”
Suddenly the delivery truck was right in front of her...so big she could see nothing else. And then she was there, slamming into the side. Pain crashed through her and the world spun dizzily.
Then, thankfully, she fell into the sweet oblivion of darkness.
Chapter 6
There was one chore on the ranch that Clay never minded doing and that was cleaning and polishing the tack. He now worked in a small room in the stable that smelled of rich leather and polish, of horses and hay.
He liked taking something dirty and working on it until it looked all shiny and new again. It somehow soothed his soul and it reminded him of his own life.
He’d arrived at the ranch a dirty kid believing he was ugly and somehow abhorrent to others. Why else would his father beat him? Why else would his mother leave him? He’d arrived here believing that something was very wrong with him.
Big Cass Holiday had taught him to ride a horse and how to be a good ranch hand. More importantly she had given him dignity and a sense of belonging that he’d never had any place else before in his life.
He’d loved Cass like a mother and he’d mourned deeply when she died a little over a year ago. A vicious spring storm had taken her life. Her body was found on the ground between the big house and the cowboy motel. It was believed she was running to warn her “boys” about the approaching tornado when a tree limb had struck her in the head and killed her.
Cass had been the fir
st person to tell Clay he was a handsome boy. At first he’d thought she was being cruel, because all he saw when he looked in the mirror was the ugly boy his father had claimed him to be. But it wasn’t long before he started garnering attention from the young females in town and he began to look at himself differently.
There was still one question that plagued him. If he hadn’t really been an ugly kid, then why had his mother left him? All his memories of her were of her loving him and then she had simply been gone.
He focused his attention back on the task at hand and tried to empty his mind. But his mind never really emptied, not since the night he’d shared cupcakes with Miranda and her kids. Whenever there was a minute for a thought to enter his mind, it was usually a thought about the beautiful blonde who enticed and excited him.
He was still concerned about her safety. When he’d thought about her driving to work that morning, he’d prayed that she’d get there safely with nothing out of the ordinary happening to her.
“Hey Clay.” Flint walked into the stables, a worried look on his face. “I just got a call from Dixie who was walking down Main Street. She told me Miranda just crashed into the side of a delivery truck with her car and it looked pretty serious.”
Clay dropped the bottle of polish he’d been holding as his heart pounded against his ribs. “Is Miranda okay?”
“Dixie didn’t know, but somebody called for an ambulance and she was loaded up and taken away.”
Flint had barely stopped speaking before Clay was moving toward the door as a hot panic sizzled through him. He raced toward the vehicle shed as questions shot through his brain.
She’d hit a delivery truck? How on earth had something like that happened? And how badly had she been hurt? If there was an ambulance involved then she must have been injured. This was all some kind of a terrible nightmare.
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