by Janet Dailey
Jake finished his coffee and half a piece of toast. “All right, Miss Paige, you’re in charge,” he said, pulling back his chair. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Jake followed the small figure across the yard to the foot of the hill. “We’ll need rocks,” she said, looking around. “Here’s a good one for me.” She picked up a flat, rust-colored chunk the size of her hand. “And there’s one for you.” She pointed to a larger stone. “It’s too heavy for me, but you can carry it fine.”
Jake picked up the stone, touched by his daughter’s amazing sense of purpose. This task had become all-important to her; and right now, nothing mattered more to him than the chance to share it. “Is this all we need?” he asked her.
“We’ll need more. But we can find them on the way.” Clutching her rock, she darted up the faint trail that had been worn among clumps of brittlebush, owl’s clover and Mexican poppy. Jake followed close behind, picking up extra stones as she pointed them out. This would be his first visit to the memory cairn. He’d made excuses, telling himself he was too busy to go. But the truth was, his few memories of his late mother-in-law were bitter. The woman had cursed him for getting her daughter pregnant and broken Wendy’s heart when she refused to attend the wedding or even acknowledge Paige’s birth.
But Paige didn’t need to know that. She was a happy little girl honoring her grandmother.
He reached the cleared circle a few steps behind her. The cairn the students had started was growing with the pebbles and small rocks that had been added every day. Following Paige’s example, Jake added one of the stones he’d brought, choosing a place where it would balance. That done, he was about to turn back, but caught sight of something else.
A few steps away from the cairn, but still inside the circle, was a miniature pile of stones—colored pebbles carefully stacked. “What’s this, Paige?” he asked her.
“This is a cairn I’m making for my mom.” Paige added two small rocks to the pile. “Do you want to help me, Mister Jake?”
Jake’s throat tightened. This was the last thing he’d expected, but he could hardly say no. As he took the rocks they’d gathered and helped Paige arrange the pile into a pyramid shape, he remembered Wendy—her flaming beauty, her laughter, her reckless passion. Wendy, who had given him this wonderful child. Wendy, who had lied, cheated and betrayed him in the cruelest way.
She was who she was, and nothing could change that, Jake reminded himself. It would be his choice to hate her for the rest of his life or to forgive her and move on.
His choice.
As he took each stone from Paige’s hand and placed it on the new cairn, he felt forgiveness, and healing, begin.
* * *
The narrow trail wound upward through the foothills above the ranch and into the heart of the Santa Catalina Mountains. Changing with the altitude, desert scrub gave way to mesquite groves, then to oak, juniper, cottonwood and Arizona sycamore. The morning was bright, the crystalline air musical with birdcalls.
With Kira leading on Sadie, the students rode single file. Their horses knew the trail and needed little guiding. The young riders were free to look around, enjoy the fresh air and spectacular scenery. Today they had made their own lunches, filled their canteens and packed their saddlebags with things a rider would need. If things went well today, the final event at the week’s end would be an overnight trip and a campout with their horses.
As they approached a bend in the trail, Kira glanced back along the queue of riders. Jake, who was bringing up the rear, gave her a hand sign. All okay back there—for now, at least.
They’d both been concerned about Mack, who seemed to be having one of his bad days. Back in the stable, while they were saddling up, Patrick had taken Mack’s usual bridle by mistake. Mack had yelled at the other boy. Kira had stepped between them just in time to avoid a nasty fight.
As a precaution, when she’d lined up the riders for the trail, she’d placed Patrick at the front, right behind her. She’d put Mack at the end, just ahead of Jake. Mack had grumbled about eating dust and riding through poop, but Kira had chosen to ignore his complaints.
With the sun at the peak of the sky, they reached the grassy meadow where they planned to rest and have lunch before starting back. It was a beautiful spot, rich with long grass and dotted with red and purple lupines. By now, the students had been in the saddle for almost four hours. They were sore and tired. Some of them groaned good-naturedly as they dismounted and slipped to the ground.
Patrick was about to climb off his horse, when Mack broke out of the line and rode up next to him. “Race you to that big stump,” Mack said, pointing to a dead tree on the far side of the meadow. “Loser’s a stinkin’ coward!”
With that, he kicked Patches hard in the flanks. The startled horse whinnied, reared and was off like a shot.
Kira had already dismounted. “Stop!” she shouted.
Patrick, still recovering from his surprise, heard her and reined to a halt. But Mack, clinging onto Patches, was out of control. There was no way he could stop his panicked horse.
Jake, still mounted at the rear of the line, could do little except watch in horror. The ground in the meadow would be like a sponge, pitted with holes and burrows, where a horse could easily catch a leg and go down. Patches was too fast, and too far ahead, for Dynamite to catch up with him; and even if Kira were to leap into the saddle and give chase, she’d be too late to stop the runaway, especially given the risk to her mare.
Telling the students to stay put, she took off on foot, racing through the grass. Leaving his horse, Jake charged after her.
Two-thirds of the way across the meadow, Patches stumbled and pitched forward onto his knees. Mack flew out of the saddle, went over the horse’s shoulder and landed in the grass.
Adrenaline surged through Jake’s body as he ran. Mack was wearing his helmet, but that wouldn’t save the fool boy from a broken neck or even worse. Kira, he knew, would be frantic.
Patches lurched to his feet, shook himself and wandered off to graze. Jake could make out a streak of red across one knee. At least the horse didn’t appear to be badly hurt. But what about Mack?
Kira had nearly reached the boy as he sat up. Cursing with relief, Jake sprinted toward them and caught up. Mack was stunned, but moving his arms and legs. Jake extended a hand and pulled the boy to his feet. He was pale and shaken, but nothing appeared to be broken.
Kira was white with fury. Jake had never seen her so angry.
“You were lucky!” she snapped. “You could have killed yourself and that poor horse, or put yourself in a wheelchair for the rest of your life!” She turned to Jake. “Take him back to the others and keep him there. I need to get Patches and look at his leg.”
With Mack beside him, Jake started back across the meadow, to where the other students waited. “What the devil were you thinking?” he demanded. “You should’ve known better than to race off like that.”
“I was just bored,” Mack said. “All we have around here is rules, rules, rules. Aren’t rules meant to be broken sometimes?” He gave Jake a smile, hoping for approval. Jake didn’t smile back. It was all he could do to keep from grabbing the young fool by the shoulders and shaking some sense into him.
The other students stood silent, most of them watching Kira lead Patches back across the meadow. Only Patrick stepped forward as Mack reached the group. He was grinning. “Boy, you really screwed up this time. I’ll bet you’re gonna get sent home for this.”
“Then I don’t have a friggin’ thing to lose, do I?” Mack took a step, swung and crunched his fist into Patrick’s eye.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Still dressed in her dusty riding clothes, Kira faced Mack across her desk. “You know the rules, Mack. Any student who hurts an animal or another student has to leave the ranch. Today you did both. I’m about to phone your parents. Do you want to tell them what happened, or would you rather I do it?”
Mack had been slumped in the str
aight-backed chair, eyes sullen, lower lip thrust outward. Now tears welled in his eyes. “Please don’t call them!” he begged. “My dad will kill me! Please—he’ll lock me in my room and take my phone away for a month! He won’t even let me watch TV or go to the gym. And he’ll yell at me—you’ve never heard anybody yell like he does!”
Kira hated the process of sending a student home, but she’d done it enough times to know what to expect. “You should have thought of that before you broke the rules,” she said.
“Please give me another chance!” He was gripping the edge of the desk, almost on his knees. “I’ll be good, I promise!”
“Tell that to Patrick. Jake had to take him to the doctor in town to get his eye checked. You’d better hope the damage doesn’t turn out to be serious.”
“It was Patrick’s fault, too. If he hadn’t made me mad, I wouldn’t have hit him.”
“Patches cut his knee when he stumbled. He could’ve broken his leg. What if we’d had to call the vet and have Patches put down? Would that have been his fault, too?”
Mack stared at the floor, saying nothing.
Jake had left the meadow early, riding double with Patrick on Dynamite and leading Patches, who was still too skittish to be ridden. The other students had eaten their lunches, then headed back down the trail with Mack riding Patrick’s horse. The outing should have been fun for the students. But by the time they got back to the ranch, nobody was in a good mood. They’d put away their horses, eaten dinner and gone to their cabins—except for Mack, who had to face the consequences of what he’d done.
Kira picked up the phone. “Last chance. Do you want to make the call?”
Mack shook his head.
“Fine. You stay right here until I excuse you.” Kira dialed the Phoenix phone number on Mack’s program application. It was his mother who answered. She seemed more annoyed by the inconvenience of having to pick him up than by her son’s misbehavior. “I’ve got a salon appointment tomorrow morning,” she said. “Maybe his daddy can come get him. Hold on.”
The exchange of voices was loud enough for Mack to hear. He shrank in his chair, as if trying to hide. A moment later, his mother was back on the phone. “He says he’ll be there by eight thirty. Tell Mack he’d better be ready on time.”
Kira ended the call and escorted Mack to the cabin he shared with Brandon to pack and get some sleep. He was under strict orders to stay put until morning. She felt sorry for the boy, but rules were rules. Mack had earned his dismissal from the program.
On her way back to the house, she glanced at her watch. It was after nine. Hours had passed since Jake had ridden down the trail with Patrick. Dusty, who’d put Patches and Dynamite away and dressed the shallow cut on Patches’ knee, had confirmed that Jake had taken her Outback to drive the boy to the ER. Patrick’s eye injury hadn’t looked that serious, but it needed to be checked by a doctor.
Waiting in the ER could take a long time, Kira knew. But it was getting late, and she was becoming worried. What if something had happened on the road—or what if Jake had suffered an episode? He didn’t carry a cell phone, and, since students’ phones weren’t allowed on the rides, Patrick’s phone had been left in his cabin. She had no way to call either of them.
She’d reached the porch, and was about to go look in on Paige, when she caught sight of headlights rounding the last bend in the road. A moment later, her wagon drove through the side gate and pulled around the house. Jake and Patrick climbed out, both looking weary.
“The eye is okay,” Jake said before Kira could ask. “But he’s got one heck of a shiner.”
Patrick turned to face her, grinning. The bruise around his eye had morphed into an ugly ring of blues and purples. He was showing it off like a trophy.
“You’re sure you’re all right, Patrick?” Kira asked.
“I’ll live. Can’t wait to get my phone and send out some selfies.”
“We stopped for shakes and burgers on the way back, so we won’t need to eat,” Jake said. “How’s Patches?”
“Not too bad. But he’ll be out of action until his leg heals. Patrick, you look like you could use a shower and a good night’s sleep. We’ll take it easy tomorrow.”
“What’s happening with Mack?” Patrick asked. “He’s not a bad kid, you know. He was just having a crappy day. Is he going home?”
“I’m afraid so, but we won’t talk about that now,” Kira said. “Run along. Get some rest.”
By the time Jake had parked the vehicle in the shed and returned to the porch, Kira was alone. He mounted the steps two at a time and gathered her into his arms. She softened against him, feeling warm and protected. “Sorry,” he murmured, his lips brushing her forehead. “I know you’ve had a hell of a day.”
“It could’ve been worse,” she said. “At least Mack didn’t break his neck. And Patrick and the horse will be okay. But I hate having to send a student home, especially after he seemed to be making such good progress.”
“Like Patrick said, he was just having a crappy day. Believe me, I know how that feels.”
“Speaking of that, how have you been?” She looked up at him, raising a hand to cup his cheek. His beard was rough against her palm. She loved the feel of it.
“So far, so good,” he said. “Having a steady girlfriend seems to be helping—and Dynamite deserves some credit, too.”
Kira closed her eyes, inhaling the manly smell that had seeped into his shirt. At times like this, with Jake’s arms around her, it was hard to imagine that anything could go wrong.
“I was about to check on Paige,” she said. “Want to come with me?”
“Sure.” He followed her inside and down the hall, where they peeked into her room. Paige was sleeping like an angel. Not wanting to wake her, they moved quietly back to the living room.
“I can’t get enough of looking at her,” Jake said. “She blew me away this morning going up that hill. She was amazing.”
“You’ve got to tell her who you are, Jake,” Kira said. “Paige is a sharp little girl. She’s going to guess the truth, if she hasn’t already. And then she’ll wonder why you kept it from her.”
“I plan to,” Jake said. “I want her to know.”
“So when are you going to tell her?” Kira had turned to face him.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll tell her tomorrow—when I shave off my beard.”
She walked out onto the porch with him, to say good night. The sky was clear, the stars hung like jewels on black velvet, but the night breeze carried the fresh smell of rain.
Once more, he gathered her in his arms. His kiss was filled with promise. “I love you, Kira,” he whispered.
Her arms tightened around his neck. “I love you, too. And whatever happens, we’ll work it out.”
Her gaze followed him as he walked away and crossed the yard to his cabin. Jake loved her—it was like a dream come true. But how could she dare feel this way, when so many things in her past had come to a bad end? Right now, she was as happy as she’d ever been in her life. But at the same time, she was terrified.
With so much good in her life, how could something not go wrong?
* * *
By the time she’d checked her e-mail and set up tomorrow’s agenda, with contingency plans for rain, Kira was so exhausted that she could barely stay awake in the shower. After toweling herself dry, she pulled on clean pajamas and crawled into bed. Her head had barely settled on the pillow before she sank into dreams—strange, jumbled dreams filled with ringing phones, crashing cars and sirens screaming through the night.
A rap on her bedroom door jerked her out of sleep. At first, she thought she’d imagined it. But no, there was the rap again. Her heart lurched. Was somebody in trouble? Paige? Dusty? One of the students?
Sitting up, she glanced at the bedside clock: 3:15. “Who’s there?” She sprang out of bed and rushed to open the door.
“It’s me, Brandon.” The slim, dark boy stood in the hallway, faintly silhouetted b
y the security light that fell through the living-room window. “Mack is gone. He’s nowhere in the cabin, and his backpack is missing.”
“You didn’t hear him leave?”
“I was asleep,” Brandon said. “A couple minutes ago, I got up to use the bathroom. That’s when I noticed he wasn’t in his bed. He’d lumped the pillows to make it look like he was there, but I could tell it wasn’t him.”
“Go get Jake! Hurry! I’ll be right out.” As Brandon raced off, Kira scrambled into her clothes. Why hadn’t she guessed that Mack would run away rather than face his father? Until he was picked up, the boy was her responsibility. Anything that happened to him would be her fault.
Still zipping her jeans, she rushed out of the bedroom—to face a small figure clad in pink pajamas.
“What’s the matter, Aunt Kira?” Paige asked. “Is somebody sick?”
“One of the students ran away.” Kira knew better than to lie. “I have to help find him. Go on back to bed. Grandpa and Consuelo will be here. You’ll be fine.”
Paige didn’t go, but Kira had no time to argue. Leaving the little girl in the hall, she dashed outside. Jake, in sweats and sneakers, stood with Brandon in the glare of the security light. “Any sign of him?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Jake said. “Maybe he’s just hiding on the property. Brandon, you stay and keep your eyes open. If anybody else wakes up, keep them here. I’ll check the sheds and vehicles. Kira, can you look in the stable?”
Kira was off before he finished speaking. Mack could be hiding in a stall or in the tack room. But what if he’d taken one of the horses? He could ride up one of the mountain trails; or worse, he could ride the horse down to the highway, abandon the poor animal and hitch a ride into Tucson. She didn’t even want to think about what could happen to him as a runaway boy on the streets. If he wasn’t found soon, she would have to notify the police—but now she was getting ahead of herself.
The stable door was closed, nothing disturbed in the tack room. The horses were safe in their stalls, with no sign of Mack anywhere. Kira had gone back outside and was closing the door; then she heard a shout from Jake. She ran back, meeting him in the yard.