by Jeannie Watt
Allie stopped folding. “I don’t like this.”
“You aren’t talking about the sweatshirt, are you?”
“No.”
“Did you have trouble with...intruders when you lived here?” Dani asked reasonably, shaking open a black plastic bag.
“I had trouble named Kyle,” her sister retorted bitterly.
It took Dani a second to realize what her sister was getting at. “You think Kyle let the mare out?”
“Last time we talked he was pretty angry.”
“Why would he do something like that?”
“Because I taunted him about the fences and gates?”
Dani let out a sigh. “Kyle isn’t responsible for everything bad that happens here.”
“But he is responsible for a lot of it and if we sold the place, we wouldn’t have to put up with him.” Allie sat down on the edge of the bed, her expression intense as she said, “You shouldn’t have to deal with him alone while I’m at school.”
“I don’t think I’ll be dealing with him once he brings that tractor back.” Which he’d grudgingly promised to do the next day.
Dani sat down next to Allie, bunching the T-shirt she held into a loose ball. “I don’t want to sell.”
“Dad died here.”
“And sometimes I feel like he’s here with me,” Dani said as she started stuffing clothing into the bag.
Allie simply pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You don’t remember the bad times like I do.”
“Yeah. I do. But they affected me differently. I see them as something we got through.”
“And then I started them all over again by bringing my husband here.”
“You know...we all liked Kyle. A lot.” Allie glared at her. “In the beginning,” Dani amended. “What I’m trying to say is that we were all taken in by him.”
“Yeah.” Allie popped the lid onto the box. “But you didn’t spend as much time with him as I did. I dated him for two years and still didn’t see the real guy. I believed in him. Made excuses for him while he ran this place into the ground.”
“Would selling it honestly make you feel better? Or just make it so that you never had to come back here and be reminded of the past.”
“Does it really matter which?”
“I wish the place didn’t make you so unhappy.”
“I made a mistake moving back here. We should have gotten our own place. Then we could have sold, I could have paid the bastard off and he’d have left us all alone.” Allie gave Dani a weary look as they walked downstairs together, Allie carrying the box and Dani dragging the heavy bag. “I won’t make noise about selling the Lightning Creek as long as you and Jolie are happy here, but the instant things start to go sour, I say we slap this place on the market.”
“Jolie and I are in total agreement. We just want a chance to make a go of it.”
“And I don’t begrudge you that.” Allie opened the back hatch of the Subaru Forester and shoved her box in before turning to reach for the bag.
“I can take it to the donation box if you want,” Dani offered.
“No. I want the satisfaction of kissing my old life goodbye.” She hefted the bag and shoved it into the crowded cargo space, jamming it on top of the boxes.
“Have at it.”
Allie hugged her with one arm before heading to the driver’s side of the car. “Who knows,” she called over her shoulder, “maybe the ranch will treat you better than it treated me.”
“Mel did okay here.”
“She was only here for a short time.”
“Don’t make me feel guilty about loving the place,” Dani said with a hint of frustration. She hated having this wedge between them.
Allie raised a hand. “You’re absolved from guilt. I’m off to make a new life in Idaho. But—” her voice became stern as she said “—if you suspect Kyle is doing anything, anything at all—”
“I’ll call the authorities.”
“Promise.”
“Scout’s honor.” Although she was pretty certain that this wasn’t a promise she’d have to keep.
A few moments later, Dani watched her sister drive away. Maybe after a semester of college, Allie would start to feel more in control of her life and better about the ranch. Maybe Kyle would back off.
Regardless, Dani would not allow herself to feel guilty about insisting that they keep the Lightning Creek. In a way, she felt as if she was helping Allie dodge a bullet. Cash was good. But land was forever.
* * *
THE CALL FROM the garage came sooner than Gabe expected, just after noon, when he was thinking about taking a run to work off some of his nervous energy. The car was fine with the exception of the cracked headlight, now fixed. If he wanted, they could send someone out to pick him up.
“No. I have a ride.”
Gabe hung up and proceeded to call his ride, who answered her phone almost instantly. Gabe found himself smiling at her husky hello. Damn, but he was beginning to love this woman’s voice. It resonated, stirring something deep inside of him. Something that made him halfway wish he could get to know her for real—and how long had it been since he’d felt like that?
Too long, probably.
“I’ve just gotten a call from the garage.”
“And?” He could hear instant stress in her voice.
“No problems.”
“Not one?” she asked suspiciously.
“Cracked headlight, but it was cracked before the accident.” A white lie wouldn’t hurt. “They offered me a ride, but I wanted to take you up on your lunch offer. If you’d rather not, I’ll call them back.”
“No. I owe you lunch.”
“And I’m taking you up on it.” When she didn’t say anything, he added, “It’s not easy being the new kid on the block.”
“And not working while on vacation?”
“Uh...yes. Exactly,” he said, surprised.
“I’ll be right over.”
“No hurry.”
“Now is good,” she said in a tone that made him think she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. That wasn’t exactly the way he’d hoped she’d approach lunch together, but he’d work with it, see what kind of foundation he could lay.
He dragged off the comfy long-sleeved T-shirt over his head and pulled an ironed shirt out of the closet before changing into his clean jeans. There’d once been a time when all he’d owned were T-shirts and ratty jeans and he’d been okay with that—until he figured out that people judged you by what you wore and treated you accordingly.
Dani showed up fifteen minutes later and he was glad to see she was driving the newer truck she’d had hitched to the horse trailer at the sale, rather than the one that threatened dust poisoning.
“Do you want to eat first, before we pick up my car?” he asked as he got into the passenger seat.
“That’d probably be easiest,” Dani agreed without looking at him.
Gabe settled back into his seat, telling himself that all things took time. He couldn’t risk pushing matters.
“Any ideas where to eat?” he asked.
“That all depends if you prefer Mexican or burgers.”
“If I prefer burgers are you taking me to a drive-in?”
“No. A café with booths,” she said. “Red vinyl.”
“It doesn’t get any better than that.”
She smiled politely and started the truck. Ten minutes later she parked in front of a building that had obviously once been a gas station. He held the door for her and a woman in a classic pink waitress’s uniform pointed them to a booth in the corner. The menus were waiting at the table, but Dani made no move to look at hers.
“There’s only one thing to get here—The Works.”
“I always make it a point of trusting those that know,” he said, stashing the menu back behind the napkin holder.
“An excellent practice,” she said, sipping her water. The waitress started toward them but stopped when Dani held up two
fingers. “I hope you don’t mind Coke,” she said. “It’s either that or orange soda.”
“Coke is fine,” he said reaching for his own water. “Quite the ordering system you have here.”
“Saves time.”
“Looking to get away fast?” he couldn’t help asking.
“Oh, no,” Dani replied, looking vaguely guilty. “It’s just that...” She fought with herself for a moment, then one corner of her mouth twisted a little before she said, “To be honest, I was engaged to be married until a little over a month ago. I’m not looking for, well...anything.”
“Not even friendship?”
She frowned as she studied him, as if debating whether or not that was possible. “Friendship is fine,” she finally said. “But I make friends slowly.”
“Warning me off again?”
“I’m a believer in full disclosure,” she said, her hazel gaze meeting his candidly. “I like to know where I stand and I assume other people are the same.”
“I agree.”
Dani leaned back as the waitress set two Cokes on the table, waiting until the woman walked away before saying, “Please understand that I’m not saying we won’t become friends. It’s just—”
“Full disclosure. I get it.”
“Thanks.” She pushed the napkin-wrapped flatware aside so that she could rest her elbows on the table. “How is it that you came to vacation at the Staley house?”
He gave a casual shrug. “I wanted to...disappear, I guess—somewhere in Montana—and I found the place through a private company that specializes in leasing executive homes.”
“Oh.” She gave a considering nod. “I always thought of the Staley house as more of a big-ass mansion than an executive home.”
Gabe smiled. “It is huge. I rattle around in it, but the windows are big and the light is great.”
“You’ll have to give me a tour before you leave. I’ve lived next door, endured their traffic while growing up, but have never been in the place.”
“Sure,” Gabe said, pleased that she was talking about seeing him again sometime in the future. “Does the traffic across your place bother you?”
She shook her head. “Not recently, because no one has lived there, but when the Staleys were in residence, yeah. The road is just a little too close to the house. Dad used to cuss out Granddad for granting the original owners access across our property, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.”
“Shame,” he said, sipping his Coke. And interesting. He waited until the food came before he asked her what she did for a living.
“Until recently I worked in marketing at a winter equipment wholesaler, but they went out of business, so I decided to move home and try my luck at training horses.”
“You can make a living training horses?” Gabe asked.
“I’m going to try. It’s the perfect time. I have a little severance pay to invest in my business and we own the ranch outright.”
“Those are good circumstances,” he agreed.
“My sister Jolie might join me after she gets done with graduate school. She’s doing an internship right now at a big experimental farm in southern Idaho.”
“She trains, too?” This was looking worse and worse, but the more he knew, the more he could plan how to approach this matter.
“She’s a barrel racer. She puts on clinics, but I prefer working with horses to people.”
“Why?”
She smiled. “Horses,” she said, tapping her spoon on the table, “are logical. People are not.”
“I’m logical.” A characteristic he’d ignored until he started college and discovered that there was comfort and security in step-by-step processes—a welcome change from his former scattershot approach to life and the resulting chaos. He’d reached the point where he couldn’t imagine operating any other way...or perhaps he was afraid to, afraid he’d lose everything he’d worked for if he went back to shooting from the hip.
“To a point. But if a horse does something, it’s the result of a stimulus, either current or remembered. The right stimulus will produce the right result. Progress may be slow, but if you take your time—” she shrugged her shoulders “—you’re usually successful. People, on the other hand...people have agendas.”
He shifted slightly. “Are you saying all horses behave logically?”
“Oh, no. Sometime horses are too traumatized to overcome their flight responses. They short-circuit.”
“And are no longer logical.” He wondered if she was talking about the paint mare she’d just bought.
“They would be if they could overcome the fear factor.”
“Maybe people are the same.”
“They are,” she agreed in a halfhearted way that made him wonder if she was thinking about her own recent past.
“Do you prefer horses to people, Dani Brody?”
She gave a slow considering nod. “Yes. A lot of the time I do.”
* * *
THERE WAS SOMETHING about Gabe Matthews that drew in Dani, made her want to know him better. Perhaps even trust him. Maybe it was that behind his easy charm, she sensed that he was as guarded as she was. That he had his secrets and his vulnerabilities, just as she did.
Once upon a time she hadn’t been guarded, or even all that vulnerable, despite the knocks life had sent her way. Nor had Allie—at least not in the way she was now. But look at the two of them today, ready to believe that anyone who was friendly or showed the slightest inclination toward pursuing an acquaintanceship had an agenda. She wasn’t as bad as Allie, but she now had barriers where there hadn’t been any prior to her experience with Chad the Liar.
Was this how she wanted to live?
A small voice told her that this was the way she had to live until she got a handle on what Chad had done to her. He’d betrayed her, made her feel stupid for trusting him, made her lose faith in her own judgment. She hated that.
After dropping off Gabe, Dani stopped at the mailbox, then turned into the driveway leading to the house. She was almost to the cattle guard when she stepped on the brake and leaned forward over the steering wheel to peer out the windshield.
“What the hell?” she muttered as she got out of the idling truck and walked over to the edge of a huge stream of water flowing from the edge of the lawn across the driveway to the barn. The white plastic standpipe had been snapped at the base. Dani bit back another curse as she saw a second river flowing behind the barn.
“Son of a bitch,” she said, as she approached river number two. That standpipe was also snapped. What had happened and, more important, where was the water main?
She hadn’t a clue and had no idea where to start looking.
A few minutes later she stalked back to her idling truck, pausing for a moment before she got in to check the driveway for tire tracks and footprints. Nothing.
A fluke. This had to be a fluke.
She put the truck in gear and parked it a few yards from the water flow before heading to the house, where Gus was barking, demanding to be let out. He galloped out, heading straight to the flowing water when she opened the door. Dani followed, taking her phone out of her pocket and holding it for a moment as she debated. She had to call Allie and if she didn’t know where the water main was located, then she had to get Kyle’s number. No way around that, even though she was going to get another earful about bad ranch karma. Not to be helped. She punched her sister’s number into the phone, got the out-of-range recording.
Great. She pressed her lips together for a moment. Mac was working halfway across the state, Gina had babies to tend to. With a sigh, she called her sister again, left a message telling her she needed Kyle’s cell number, then, after ending the call, she hit the number of the closest able-bodied guy in the area. Gabe.
“Hey, this is Dani Brody,” she said when he answered. “Are you busy?”
“Not really.”
“Are you handy with plumbing tools?”
There was the briefest hesitation before he s
aid, “I don’t think I have any lying around.”
“I have the tools. I just need some muscle and know-how.”
“Be right over.”
* * *
WATER WAS FLOWING across the driveway when Gabe drove in.
“We need to shut off the main,” he said as soon as he got out of his car.
Dani gave him a frazzled look. “I’d love to do that, but I have no idea where this one is. I turned off the two I know about, but no luck, so I called Allie and she’s calling her ex-husband, and I should have an answer—”
The phone buzzed in her hand and she turned her back to Gabe as she answered.
“Thank goodness...yes, I’m sure he was happy you had to call him...” Dani started walking “Right...yeah, I know...he’s where? Well, at least that’s good to know.”
Gabe followed as she walked around the barn and kicked dirt off a round cover with one foot. He lifted it, revealing a couple of faucets a good arm’s length down the hole.
“I guess if we turn off both of them, it should handle everything,” Dani said to him, then into the phone she said, “My neighbor. Everyone I know is at work...of course it makes sense.”
Gabe lowered himself to the ground and shoved his hand into the pipe, gritting his teeth as he worked to turn the stubborn handles with little more than the tips of his fingers.
“Is there a key?” Dani asked into the phone. “Thanks. I’ll look.” Dani disappeared into the barn and came out with a long metal fork that she bent down to give him. “Use this.”
Gabe pushed himself to a sitting position, took the fork and shoved it down the hole, using the tines to twist off the faucet. The flow from the closest broken standpipe slowed to a trickle within a matter of seconds.
“Yes, it worked,” Dani said. “Thanks, Al. I know this wasn’t easy...yeah. I will. Promise. Drive safe.”
Dani clicked the phone off and dropped it into her pocket. “Thanks. I kind of panicked when I couldn’t find the main and Allie was out of cell range.”
“Sure thing,” he said, brushing the loose dirt off his side. “Let’s take a look at the problem.”
The problem was that the two standpipes had been snapped off at ground level.