by Amy Frazier
Garrett eyed Percy, who seemed to be smiling. “No tricks,” he warned the animal.
“No tricks is right,” Samantha repeated. “If Percy bolts, we lose the tents.”
For the first time, Garrett really noted the camping equipment secured to the llama. It was ultra-light-weight, pop-up stuff. High-tech, and brand-new. “Did you just buy this?” he asked.
“Yes.” Samantha led Mr. Jinx away from the fence toward the trailhead. “Mother was a tad disappointed to put aside buying stuff for the house to cruise the aisles of Wal-Mart, but, in her mind, shopping is shopping. It’s all about the swipe of the plastic. I could even say, to her credit, she adapted.”
Garrett ignored the pun. “So you’re going to expand to overnight treks?”
“I don’t know.” She waved to Red, who was seated in a rocker on his porch. “Maybe.”
It must be nice, Garrett thought with an involuntary tightening of his jaw, to go out on a moment’s notice, without a thought to budget, and purchase top-of-the-line anything. Noelle’s M.O. came to mind. She’d made the ability to do just that one of her goals. People like Noelle didn’t often stick around Applegate. What had Helena Lawrence said—very clearly—to Samantha in the diner Thursday? “Applegate is just a diversion. You’re not staying.”
Garrett suddenly became disconcerted by the possibility that Samantha might be one rich—one spoiled rich?—woman, who was only temporarily playing at the simple life.
“Dad?” Rory’s voice cut into his thoughts. “You ready? Just start walking behind Samantha. Percy will follow.”
Actually, Percy led Garrett, alpha beast that he was.
Rory came up alongside, leading Humvee. “Do you notice how quiet they are? Not like horses. That’s because they have pads on their feet, not hooves, so they don’t have a negative impact on the environment. Cool, huh?”
He had to admit it was. “What are the bells on their halters for?” He liked having a conversation with his son, even if the topic was an unfamiliar one.
“To let animals on the trail know we’re entering their territory.”
The area was rich with deer, mountain lions, wolves and bears. “More to the point, how do we know if animals on the trail are invading our space?”
“Oh, the llamas will let us know. Percy especially. It’s the llama scream.” Rory shuddered. “I heard it once when a fox crossed their pasture. These guys are like burglar alarms. Did you know they’re sometimes used to guard sheep and goats?”
“How’d you get so smart, kid?” Proud of his son, Garrett told himself to breathe. To forget about Samantha—her life was her life, and his was his—and concentrate on Rory. This outing was, after all, his son’s birthday wish. “Chip off the old smart block, huh?”
But he couldn’t get Samantha out of his thoughts. She was right in his line of sight, up ahead on the trail that started in the outer pasture—the one they’d crossed in their escape from Tanner—and wound up into the forest. Sixty acres made for one beautiful personal playground. Although Red had never let on how much his property had fetched, Garrett knew the going rate around here. Bushels.
He had to stop focusing on Samantha and her situation. “So,” he said to Rory, “you have any idea what she’s going to feed us?”
“Not a clue. But there’s a lot of it. Humvee has the coolers. If we don’t like what she packed, we can always fish.”
Garrett noted the large food containers as well as three brand-new fishing rods. Samantha had spared no expense. The local economy had received a shot in the arm. So what was Mr. Jinx up ahead carrying—a new bass boat?
He tried not to take a jaundiced view, but he’d feel a whole lot better about Samantha if he knew this llama business was of her own making, the fruits of her planning, hard work and a savings account, and not some offhand hobby gifted from Mommy and Daddy.
Samantha could feel Garrett watching her, but today it didn’t bother her. The fresh, open air, the beautiful mountains, the presence of animals that could only be described as Zen masters diffused the man’s brooding intensity. Nothing could darken her mood on the trail. On land that made her feel real. Not the remodeling of the farmhouse. Not the fact that she’d almost fallen off the wagon this week. Not even the fact that Garrett didn’t seem to be enjoying this hike the way she and Rory had hoped.
Stiff and preoccupied didn’t begin to describe him.
They passed through the gate that separated the outer pasture from the forest and were walking along a spongy carpet of sweet-smelling pine needles. Cardinals—brilliant flashes of red—swooped overhead in the pattern of light and shadow created by the rustling tree branches.
“Hey, what’s he doing?” Behind her Garrett’s voice cut across the quiet. “Is this going to make him sick? Believe me, I don’t have llama rental insurance and I don’t make enough money to replace him.”
She turned to see Percy had stopped and was grazing on the fallen needles. “He’s okay.” She led Mr. Jinx around to come abreast of the others. “Those and dried leaves are like potato chips to the boys.”
Garrett looked dubious. “Then how come your two aren’t chowing down?”
“I think Percy’s testing you a little. Do you want to swap leads? Mr. Jinx is very biddable.”
Garrett eyed her as if this were some kind of challenge. “We’re fine.”
“It’s not like we’re punching a clock, Dad,” Rory said. “If we don’t make it to the lake by nightfall, we pitch the tents wherever.”
When Mr. Jinx sniffed the ground next to Percy, Percy raised his head and spit a mouthful of needles at the younger llama. Laughing, Samantha pulled Mr. Jinx away from Percy’s grazing.
“What was that all about?” Garrett asked.
“Territoriality.” She looked right at Garrett and wondered if a part of his prickliness was because he saw her as usurping some of his son’s attention this summer.
“The infamous llama spit?”
“No,” Rory replied, smiling. “That was just stage one. A warning. If Mr. Jinx ignored it, Percy would give him the saliva treatment.”
“Gross.”
“Gross, but not the grossest. If Mr. Jinx were stupid enough to disregard stage two, Percy would throw the big green spit. The contents of his stomach.”
“I don’t think I need to be hearing this.”
“Wait, there’s more!” Rory was really getting into this. It was good to see he was twelve going on thirteen and not a little man, worrying about the adults around him. “Llamas can spit with dead aim ten to fifteen feet!”
“Have you been teaching him this?” Garrett asked, looking at Samantha. She was pleased to see he was smiling. Even big boys were suckers for the yucky stuff.
“No, sir. Your son is a keen observer.” And Rory had let her know that he’d been watching his dad, too. And worrying that he worked too hard and played too little.
“He’s not going to turn on me, is he?”
“Not likely. Here.” She dug in another one of her pockets for some raisins. “These are extra-special treats. Offer Percy a few of these and he’ll follow you anywhere.” She dropped several in Garrett’s hand, then watched his face as Percy delicately picked up one at a time. She knew the sensation. Soft and whiskery. And sensual.
A look of awe suffused Garrett’s rugged features. “I’d say this guy has opposable lips.”
Behind Garrett’s back, Rory sent her a thumbs-up.
“Now you two lead the way,” she suggested. “That will make Percy very happy.”
As first Garrett, then Rory, headed up the trail, the llamas’ halter bells tinkling softly, she followed, hopeful the starched and pressed sheriff had been dropped by the wayside. She knew what it meant to be tied up in one’s job to the exclusion of relationships, of other options, of one’s own happiness. For her, rehab had been more than a solution to a drinking problem. It had been the start of finding out who she really was. Where her true priorities lay.
She stopped to absor
b her surroundings. The afternoon was gorgeous with blue skies, brilliant sun and puffy clouds. In the distance she could see receding purplish silhouettes of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The farther they climbed, the cooler the air became. From her personal pack she pulled a sweatshirt. Drawing it over her head, she took a moment to inhale the fresh, line-dried scent of it. She needed to point out these tiny perks of country living to her mother, who still referred to Samantha’s choice as “temporarily roughing it.”
Suddenly, from up ahead, a llama’s shrill alarm call rang out, then seconds later gunfire. Her llamas! Rory! Garrett! Dear God, what was going on?
Her heart thumping wildly against her ribs, she pulled Mr. Jinx in the direction of the shots. As she rounded a stone outcropping on the trail she saw Rory, Humvee’s lead firmly in hand, chasing Percy, who was loose and running farther up the trail.
Garrett was standing on the path, a revolver in his hand.
Quickly looping Mr. Jinx’s lead to a low-lying branch, Samantha ran to confront Garrett. “What—”
It was then she saw the timber rattlesnake. Or pieces of it. Before Garrett had dispatched it, it had been maybe five feet long and had probably been sunning on the trailside ledge that was hip high. Its beautiful yellow body with brown crossbands was now scattered in a bloody mess on the granite rocks.
She couldn’t contain her fury. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Percy recognized the danger before I did,” Garrett replied, scowling at her onslaught. “The rattler was poised to strike.”
Anger rendered her speechless. She glared at him. In the early months of settling in, she’d taken extension courses on land management. She was drawn to the environmentalists, the conservationists who recognized each animal’s necessary niche in nature and rejected the old school of simply killing what you considered a varmint. She’d vowed not on her property. No way.
Her hands shook so badly, she had to jam them in her pockets. “You…brought…a gun on this outing?” She could barely keep herself from stuttering.
“My service revolver. And the question might be why you’re not armed.” Garrett looked her right in the eye. Samantha might have a soft heart and good intentions, but she needed a hard lesson in protecting herself and her interests. “You could have lost your llama.”
“Not if you’d moved him out of harm’s way. Instead of playing some loose-cannon cowboy.”
Now that hurt. “You can’t predict a rattler. And your property’s not going to suffer because you’re now one short. My first priority is to protect.”
“Where did you have that…that thing?” She pointed with disgust at his revolver.
“In my backpack.”
“On my llama!”
“I assure you the safety was on. And, yeah, I have all the necessary papers allowing me to carry a concealed weapon.”
“You weren’t carrying it! Percy was!”
As they faced off, Rory reappeared, leading both Humvee and Percy. “Dad, how could you bring your revolver?” he cried, tying the two llamas next to Mr. Jinx, then coming to stand solidly next to Samantha. He fairly shook with indignation, and Garrett couldn’t understand either his outrage or hers.
“Y’all seem to forget I’m the sheriff. I carry a weapon. Son, you’ve grown up with guns in the house, and we’ve gone over and over the safety issues. The responsibility issues.”
“But I asked you to take a day off.”
Garrett still didn’t understand.
“For my birthday I didn’t want you to be the sheriff. I just wanted you to be my dad.”
Garrett’s mouth went dry as both Samantha and Rory glared at him. Despite all the maturity his son had exhibited earlier in the day, he was still a kid. With a kid’s needs.
“Rory, I’m your dad first and foremost.” How could he explain he would take on more than a rattler, if necessary? He was prepared to take on the world. For his only child. “I’m not sorry I killed the snake. I used my best judgment there. I’m sorry if I made you feel you weren’t getting all of me today. You are.”
Rory scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot. “Okay.” He looked sideways at Samantha. “Are you okay?”
Narrowing her eyes at Garrett, she didn’t appear quite as willing to forgive. “What are you planning to do with the gun for the rest of the trek?”
“I sure can’t leave it by the wayside. Look—” he carefully demonstrated engaging the safety “—it’ll be all right in the backpack.”
She didn’t budge.
“I did bring a shoulder holster if—”
“No! I don’t want to see it.”
“It’ll be okay on Percy,” Rory assured her. “Dad knows what he’s doing.”
He appreciated Rory’s vote of confidence, but the way Samantha looked at him now—as if she didn’t trust him—made Garrett aware he’d radically altered the dynamics of this trip.
The rest of the trek up Russert’s Mountain to the lake was unnaturally silent. Garrett couldn’t believe he actually welcomed Percy’s company.
CHAPTER TEN
THE AFTERNOON SHADOWS HAD grown very long as the group approached the lake. Samantha had been stunned into silence by Garrett’s macho display back on the trail. Sure, he was the sheriff—and obviously, like her father, his job totally defined who he was—but couldn’t he, at least, have left his service revolver behind on his son’s birthday? When she got back to the farmhouse, she was going to have to rewrite her flyers to include some trek prohibitions.
“Oh, no!” Up ahead Rory and Humvee had entered the clearing near the lake where they were supposed to camp. “Who would have done this?”
She heard a sharp explosive “Damn” from Garrett.
When she came alongside them, she saw the awful mess. Someone had used the area as party central. A huge fire pit, now blackened, had been dug near the lake. The surrounding area was littered with empty beer cans and crumpled fast-food wrappers. An aluminum chair, an old tire and a large cooler could be seen just under the surface of the lake several yards out from the shore. Feeling sick, Samantha covered her mouth with one hand as she turned to survey the surrounding rock outcroppings spray-painted with expletives.
She felt violated.
Rory and Garrett came to stand on either side of her. “Don’t worry,” Rory said. “We can clean this up.” He took all three llamas’ leads. “I’m gonna find a place to tether these guys where they can’t munch on anything lethal.”
As he led the boys a little way back down the trail, Garrett said, “Before we disturb anything, you need to let me look around the area. To see if I can find anything that might tell us who did this. Although I’d lay odds it was the Harris boys and their friends.” He indicated a cluster of rocks near the water’s edge. “Have a seat. I won’t be long.”
“I want to start cleaning up.” Maybe then the gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach would stop.
“We’ll all pitch in,” Garrett assured her. When Rory came back, he added, “I’m going to have a look around. Stay with Samantha.”
“Sure.” Rory sat on a rock next to her. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna help you.”
“But the paint…” With dismay she stared at the now defaced wall of rocks.
“Red and I will take care of that tomorrow. The maintenance staff in my school back in Charlotte have a special goop they use to cover graffiti. If we can’t get it from the hardware store here in town, my mom will find out what it is and have it sent. Don’t worry.”
Samantha couldn’t help smiling at this kid’s simple optimism, his can-do attitude, his chivalry. “Thank you,” she tried to say, but found herself choking on tears.
“Aw-w-w, don’t cry.” Clumsily, he patted her back. “I hate it when girls cry.”
“This is a terrible birthday present.”
“Yeah. I demand a refund.” He grinned. “Just kidding.”
Garrett returned, scowling. “Where are the No Trespassing signs Red ha
d posted?”
“I—I took them down. They seemed so confrontational.”
“They served a purpose.” It looked as if he might deliver a lecture, then thought better of it. He held out his hand to her. “Come on. Let’s take care of this mess. Did you bring any trash bags?”
“Yes.” When she took his hand he pulled her to her feet. They stood looking at one another, and she could see not simply a sheriff, but a person who felt her pain over the desecration of this place.
“Mack and I used to camp out when we were kids,” he said. “We weren’t big on observing boundaries, but we loved the land. These kids feel nothing. I don’t know how you combat that.”
Just when she was determined not to forgive him for the snake incident, he had to show a sensitive side.
The tethered llamas were contentedly munching low-hanging leaves when she retrieved the box of trash bags from Mr. Jinx’s pack.
“I’m assuming you’ll need to tend to these guys, so Rory and I’ll start the cleanup.”
Startled that Garrett had followed her, she turned around quickly to find him standing very close.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I will be. It was a shock, seeing such a pretty place defiled.”
“I’m just glad you weren’t alone.” He frowned, yet his eyes showed concern. “Aren’t alone.”
“Me, too.” As she handed him the trash bags, she realized what a breakthrough admission that was. In constructing the Singapore Ashley, she’d handled issues far more difficult than graffiti and garbage. Of course, she’d relied on experts for the building process, but the problems, the glitches, the setbacks she’d handled herself. Without consulting her father. Her ability to take the reins solo was something she had to prove to herself. It was her badge of honor. And, ultimately, her undoing.
She watched Garrett walk away. So strong himself, did he see her as weak? Or was he able to recognize in her, as she had in Mack, a fellow human being whose pain deserved respect?