Macey had the look of a scared filly, the way she nearly drew into herself, encased in black, from her hair to her toes. Stefanie ached just looking at her.
And then there was Haley. Under all that dirt a look of starvation leeched from her eyes and from the way she clutched that ragged cat. It was all Stefanie could do not to scoop her up and tuck her head under her chin and hold her until the hunger in her expression vanished.
“Gideon!” Stefanie launched off the porch, ran down the road. Gideon didn’t turn, just kept walking. “Gideon, c’mon! Don’t go.”
She saw his head begin to hang, his shoulders tense. If he were a horse, he’d be turned from her and running round and round in the ring. And if he were a horse, she’d wait until he figured out he had nowhere to run.
But maybe Gideon had already figured that out because his step slowed.
She caught up to him, noticing the whitened grip on Haley’s hand. The little girl had tears dripping off her chin. Macey didn’t look at Stefanie as she stood behind Gideon.
“Listen, Gideon. Don’t go. You can stay here. I know you’re on the run—”
“We’re not runaways. We’re just traveling; that’s all.” He pulled Haley close to him, putting his arm around her.
Okay, so they were all going to dodge the truth for a while. “Well, you probably need some cash, then. I could use a hand.” Stefanie gestured to the corral, toward her new quarter horses. “I have three horses I need to train and a bunch of calves that need branding and tagging, and of course, there’re always jobs to be done around here—”
“I got a job.” He wasn’t going to make this easy.
“Yes, I know you do. But maybe you might like another—”
“I’ll do it.” Macey didn’t even lift her head as she spoke but sighed, looking at the horses. “I’ll work for you.”
She had the posture of an indentured servant. Stefanie felt like a slave trader. But she also didn’t have a plethora of options. “Uh . . . that would be great, Macey. I could sure use your help.”
Macey lifted a shoulder, as if she didn’t care one way or another.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Gideon said.
For a second, those words coming from him, a guy who’d burned down a house just twelve hours ago, made Stefanie want to laugh. But she managed a straight face and nodded. “No trouble.”
“Don’t go calling Social Services or anything.”
Oh, that kind of trouble. Her humor vanished. “Where are you from?”
“We don’t have parents to worry about us, if that’s what you’re asking,” Gideon said, lifting his chin a little and meeting her eyes. His arm went tighter around Haley. “But . . . you can’t have Haley.”
Stefanie felt as if he’d hit her again, except low, right in the gut. She looked at the little girl, at the way she curled into her brother, even if she didn’t put her arm around him. Had someone threatened to take Haley away from them? She put a rein on her emotions when she said, “No, Gideon, I won’t take Haley.”
Gideon said nothing, drawing a breath, glancing down at his younger sister, then around at the ranch. Stefanie smiled at him, but he didn’t meet her eyes.
She heard a motor behind him and looked over his shoulder. An old blue station wagon came into view, and it took a moment for her brain to register who was driving.
It couldn’t possibly be Lincoln in that beater, could it? She folded her arms across her chest, everything inside her tensing, not sure exactly what to say to him . . . or how.
The car stopped, and yes, Lincoln got out, awash in his movie star glow. He wore a pair of dark glasses—though the sun had yet to make a decent appearance today—a leather jacket, faded jeans, and cowboy boots. He didn’t smile as he approached Gideon. “This your car, kid?”
Gideon glared at him. “Might be.”
Lincoln gave a huff that Stefanie read as annoyance. “Well, I got a proposition for you. I won’t call the law if you and your sisters get in it and leave. Right now.” He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. “In fact, here’s some traveling money.” He pulled out what looked like three hundred-dollar bills.
Then, although Stefanie had lost the power of speech, even her ability to move left her when he looked at her and flashed a smile. “See, I can be a nice guy.”
For a moment, she choked, really felt the oxygen cutting off as she saw herself mentally leaping at him and squeezing both hands around his neck.
Stefanie glanced at Gideon, hoping that maybe he’d gone deaf, but no, he was staring at the money in Lincoln’s hand as if he might actually be considering Lincoln’s offer.
That was enough. “What is your problem?”
Lincoln had the audacity to look at her, his mouth open. “Hey, I’m trying to help—”
“And exactly where are they going to go?” Stefanie had balled her fists at her sides, but she wanted to use them on his astonished expression. “But you don’t really care, do you?”
“They could get to Sheridan or Billings, hole up in an apartment. He could find a job—”
“He has a job! At Lolly’s. And he doesn’t need your money!”
Although, based on the hungry look in Gideon’s eye, maybe that wasn’t exactly accurate.
“Listen—” Lincoln grabbed Stefanie’s arm, pulling her away. “You do not want these kids around.”
She yanked her arm away from his grip so hard that she saw him wobble. “What, I lost the power to think for myself? When did you decide you knew what was best for me . . . or even know me? I hardly remember you, Mr. Cash. And now suddenly you want to decide who my friends are?”
“These kids aren’t your friends, and yes, I do.” He kept his voice low, but she detected something desperate simmering in his tone. Not only that, but the way he said it . . . sort of protective and caring . . .
She needed a good shake. “Look, I’m not afraid of giving someone a chance. Of letting them into my life, my world. Of trusting them until they can prove their trust and investing myself, regardless of their past. These kids need someone, and that’s all I care about.”
Stefanie wasn’t sure where all that came from, but the look on Lincoln’s face went from worried to . . . strange. He just stared at her while Haley sniffed and Gideon glared at them.
Finally Lincoln shook his head, but his voice gentled. As if there might be a human under those rugged good looks after all. “Listen, this isn’t a good idea. You haven’t been around kids like these. I’m telling you, Stefanie—you’re in over your head.”
Aside from the way his words stirred up questions, she couldn’t ignore the meaning: You’re not tough enough for these kids. Apparently he hadn’t been paying attention to the life she lived. Tough was her middle name.
“What are you doing here, anyway? Why don’t you go back to saving your pretend worlds and leave the real stuff to the little people.” She put the end of her sentence in finger quotes.
A muscle in his jaw tensed. “I’m here because I’m going to do something good for this town. Because Phillips is a great place, and I’d like to be a part of it.”
“Oh, great job. Winning friends already. Wait, I think I hear the Welcome Wagon ringing your doorbell. . . .” Stefanie put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, whoops, you don’t have a doorbell, do you?”
His eyes narrowed. “That was mean, even for you.”
“You don’t think I can be mean? I’m just a cowgirl, you know. I’ve been around these bulls a long time. Maybe I’ve forgotten how to be nice.”
For a second she even believed herself. Because something about being around Lincoln Cash made her into a person she didn’t recognize.
His voice seemed to come from a place of hurt. “That’s not true. I think I met the real Stefanie Noble last summer, and this isn’t her.”
That only made it worse. She ignored the sting of his words lest her emotions spiral off and she do something embarrassing like burst into tears.
“How do
you know who the real Stefanie Noble is?” The question lingered there, and suddenly it felt raw, as if he’d forced way too much from her. A burn rushed into her face, yet she rallied. “It’s my decision to invite these kids to stay, and that’s what I’m doing. You don’t have to approve. In fact, hmm . . . that’s strange. I ran my life for years without your intervention. I think—uh, yep, I’m sure—I can make a decision without you. Amazing, the world runs without Lincoln Cash’s say-so.”
She knew her words had made a hit because his mouth closed and his face darkened. “Fine.” He turned to Gideon. “This is the last chance, kid. Take it or leave it.”
Gideon’s face had hardened, and for an agonizing moment, Stefanie thought that he might actually grab the money and run. Please, Lord . . .
“No. I think we’ll . . . um, stay here for a little while.”
Lincoln frowned at him, obviously not used to having his brilliant ideas rejected twice. Then he folded the money, slipped it into his wallet, shoved it back into his jeans, and stared at Gideon as if trying to find the right epitaph.
Silence stretched between them. Stefanie could nearly hear Gideon’s heartbeat in the wind, in time with her own. Please, Cash, don’t wreck this. . . .
“Okay, kid, listen up. You remember that this family helped you out. They took a chance on you, and if you so much as look at Miss Stefanie, or anyone else here, the wrong way, I guarantee that I will not only call Social Services but do everything in my power—and don’t underestimate me—to make sure you spend the rest of your days regretting your mistakes.”
He didn’t wait for Gideon to reply, just turned to Stefanie. “I need a ride back to my ranch.” Clearly Lincoln wanted her to give it.
She said nothing. She might be stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d seen one of his movies. Knew that ten minutes in the presence of his charm could wrap a girl’s brain into knots, and despite the fact that she’d rather ride next to a basket of rattlers, she knew that if she didn’t watch it, soon she’d be laughing at his jokes and becoming downright neighborly or something.
Besides, she’d made the mistake of falling for a charmer before and still bore the scars.
She wouldn’t be loaning this neighbor any sugar.
“I’ll drive you back.” Nick’s voice came from behind Stefanie, and she turned, surprised that her big brother had been listening. Apparently he’d already been out working because he wore his scarred gloves and his brown canvas jacket, his white Stetson over his dark hair. He glanced at Stefanie, but his eyes betrayed nothing.
“Thanks, Nick,” Lincoln said and brushed past her.
“Least I can do for a neighbor,” Nick said.
Stefanie shook her head.
Gideon winced, looking as if he’d been beaten up.
“C’mon. Piper made eggs,” Stefanie said to the little group, starting back toward the house.
As she passed Lincoln and Nick getting into Nick’s truck, she met Lincoln’s eyes. Neither of them smiled.
Suddenly she felt a touch. Stefanie’s heart soared as she closed her fingers around Haley’s cold little hand.
CHAPTER 6
LIBBY HAD NEVER been one to swoon over movie stars. While Missy had hung posters of Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio on the walls on her side of the room, Libby had admired people like Elisabeth Elliot, the famous missionary who’d lost her husband in Ecuador so many years ago. Libby wanted to be someone who changed lives, not because of her money or looks but because she showed the love of Christ.
Although sometimes, admittedly, she couldn’t rightly tell whether her smile for Gideon grew from her desire to love him to salvation or just . . . love him.
She watched him pile dishes into the dishwashing tray, spraying them with the long hose. He’d seemed quieter this past week, more withdrawn. And harder working. Every morning, she found him waiting on the back step as she opened the restaurant; every night he left last, watching her as she got into her car to drive home.
He looked at her now and gave her the slightest smile. “Lincoln Cash still out there?”
She didn’t know why, but she’d noticed that every time Cash came into the diner, Gideon hid in the back room until he left. Which didn’t seem very Gideon-like at all. Unless she remembered the way Cash had raked him over the night of the fire. It had taken Libby a few days to forgive the actor for that—despite his smile, the way he complimented her service, even his gigantic tips.
Yet with Cash’s long stretches of campouts at Lolly’s Diner—Missy had yet to change the name—Gideon couldn’t dodge the man forever.
“He’s just finishing his pie,” she said. “I don’t know why he insists on staying until closing every night. You’d think he’d be tired of this place after eating lunch here every day. And most of the time he takes a bag dinner too. But it looks like he’s nearly done. You’re almost in the clear.” She slid her tray of dishes onto the counter next to him. “I’ll give you the high sign.”
He held up the sprayer, as if he might actually shower her. She wrinkled her nose at him.
“Missy, this is just about the best banana cream pie I’ve ever eaten.” The actor’s voice filtered through to the back room.
Gideon’s smile disappeared, and he turned back to the dishes.
Libby heard Missy’s giggle and knew that her sister, like the rest of the population of Phillips, had fallen under the charm of their local celebrity. Admittedly, he’d turned out to be the town’s benefactor as he sold the idea for a film festival to be held in this little pocket of the world. The way he painted it, movie stars and celebrities from around the globe would saturate their little town, drawn here by the charm, the authenticity, and the safety it offered. Lincoln Cash had even established business grants for anyone who wanted to open a restaurant—which made Missy ever so happy—or a hotel.
Libby knew from the influx of breakfast and dinner customers that something akin to a barn raising was happening out at the Big K. Gideon hadn’t said much, but rumor had it that Cash had a virtual army out on the property, building a house and a theater and who knew what else.
The entire town seemed beside themselves with excitement. After Cash assured her that he’d make sure to endorse her diner, Missy had named no less than three dishes after him—the Lincoln Burger, Eggs and Cashbrowns, and a Cashapalooza, which was just a mash of ice cream and hot fudge and caramel she’d asked him to concoct. Currently it was their number-one seller.
Libby had to admit, as she came out of the kitchen and saw him sitting there on the stool—the night backdropping him, one hand holding the newspaper, the other lifting a coffee mug—that he had brought charm to their town. He wore a light brown denim shirt today, sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, a black Stetson, and jeans. When he smiled at her, she identified definite swooning inside.
“Libby, great coffee tonight. I can’t believe this is decaf—delicious.” He lifted his cup, and she grabbed the pot, filling it.
Missy looked up from where she was wiping tables. “Hey, Lib, would you mind closing up for me tonight?” She balled the rag up and tossed it into a bucket.
Libby nodded. “Gideon’s still here too.”
“Thanks.” She walked by Libby, taking off her apron. “See you in the morning.”
Libby collected Cash’s plate and set it on a tray of dirty dishes. “Mr. Cash, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
He put down his paper and looked at her. “Go for it.”
“Do you go to church?”
He seemed to ponder that. “I used to, once upon a time. Maybe it’s time to go, huh?”
Libby tore off his check, putting it facedown in front of him. “Do you consider yourself a good man?”
Cash frowned at her. “I guess I do.”
“You seem like one, with all the stuff you’re doing around town. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t wasted.”
He picked up the check, stared at it for a minute. “I don’t understand.”
&nb
sp; “Coffee and pie—”
“No, I mean, what do you mean, wasted? Isn’t doing good a good thing?” He pulled out a ten and pushed it toward her. “Keep the change.”
Libby smiled. “Thanks.” Another 60 percent tip. “The thing is, being good is fine, but all that goodness isn’t going to get you anywhere but farther from God. See, we can do all the good we want, but if we’re not saved, it just masks our need for a Savior. Good isn’t going to get anyone to heaven. Only realizing we need Jesus, and being forgiven, is going to matter.”
“Are you saying that anything good I do without God isn’t really good at all?”
“Not in God’s economy. The only good we do that counts with God is the good we do in faith, in cooperation with Him.”
He got up. “I’d like to think I’m cooperating with God.”
Libby opened the cash register, deposited the cash, drew out the change, and slipped it into her pocket. “I’m sure you do. So maybe going to church might help you figure out what that means.”
Cash touched his hat, giving her a wink. “Then I’ll see you there.” The door jangled as he exited.
She smiled. That was easy. Maybe she did have a knack, just like her mama had said. Ever since she was young, she’d been inviting friends, neighbors, even strangers, to church. Janie Pike had called her the “littlest missionary.” How she ached to have her mother’s prophecies come true.
“Is he gone?” Gideon stuck his head out of the kitchen. She noticed his apron was wet down the front.
She giggled. “Yeah, big bad Cash has left for the night.”
Gideon came out, wiping his hands on a towel. “He’s got it in for me; I know it. That’s why he’s here every night. He thinks I’m going to do something bad—maybe steal money from the till or set the diner on fire.”
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