Rough Creek

by Kaki Warner

  As soon as they stopped, Raney handed out the Walmart bags she’d saved and told them to collect their trash or they’d have to answer to Mama. By the time they got everything gathered and were heading to the house, Mama was waiting with a full spread on the veranda table.

  “I’ve been so worried,” she said, not quite wringing her hands, but showing a goodly amount of motherly concern. Sadly, none of it was directed at her offspring. “Dalton, dear, how are you feeling?”

  “Much better, ma’am. Your daughter, here, took good care of me.”

  Mama looked at Raney, brows raised. “She did?”

  “Gave me two Benadryl and got me to the EMTs in record time.”

  “EMTs? I had no idea it was so serious.”

  “It wasn’t,” Raney cut in before Dalton could elaborate on his harrowing, near-death experience. “But you know what babies men can be. I had to do something to keep him calm. Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

  As soon as they settled at the table, Mama took charge of the food and the conversation, which hopefully would put a damper on Dalton’s foolishness.

  “How soon do you think you’ll be able to work, Dalton?” Mama asked as she passed around a jar of blackberry preserves to complement the croque monsieur. Or, as unpretentious Americans called them, Monte Cristos. Or, as the even less pretentious called them, fried ham and cheese and turkey sandwiches. Raney wondered who Mama was trying to impress. And why.

  “I’m ready now,” Dalton answered. “These stings look a lot worse than they feel, thanks to all the medicines Raney put on them.” He sent her a fond smile.

  She ignored him.

  “That’s good news,” Mama said. “Press Amala got back sooner than expected, and he’s ready to take you whenever you’re up to it. He suggested you bring Rosco so he can see how you do together.”

  “Good idea. I’m assuming Rosco’s been trailered before.”

  “Many times. Amala’s barn is this side of Gunther, so you should be able to commute unless he needs you to stay overnight.”

  “I can start tomorrow if that suits him.”

  Mama said she’d check with Press and let him know, then turned to the soon-to-be mama and lapsed into an elaborate and enthusiastic explanation of all the plans she’d already put in motion to fix up her new granddaughter’s nursery. Poor Joss.

  As soon as the meal ended, Dalton thanked Mama and said he needed to check on Rosco.

  Raney almost went with him—only to see how the colt’s session with Alejandro had gone—then saw the way Mama and Joss watched her, and went to Daddy’s office instead.

  When she sat behind the desk, motion caught her eye and she glanced out the big office window to see Dalton heading up to the barn. Even from this distance, she could see that sway in his shoulders with each authoritative stride, the hotel laundry bag containing his dirty clothes and the medicines swinging at his knee. His head was down as if in thought, and the sun brought out the reds and golds in his dark brown hair. Or maybe she was only remembering how he’d looked the night before, with the bathroom light shining down on his head and shoulders just before he’d kissed her.

  That was a hell of a move he’d put on her. And a much better kiss than that first one on the veranda. It had kept her tossing half the night, thinking about it.

  She watched him until he disappeared into the barn, then sat back, wondering what she was going to do about the quirky, outrageous, damaged ex-con who managed to steal a little more of her heart each day. It sure as hell couldn’t go on like this much longer. Whatever was happening between them made her feel like she was riding an emotional roller coaster without a seat restraint. It was ruining her appetite and her sleep.

  Yet, she wasn’t altogether certain she was ready for the ride to end.

  CHAPTER 10

  Saturday afternoon, three days later, Raney was sitting at her desk in the office, working on revised feed orders now that they’d reduced the herd, and getting a supplies list ready for the esposas’ bimonthly shopping trip, when she saw one of the ranch trucks drive by the office window.

  No horse trailer. Not Dalton.

  This was the third day he and Rosco had gone to Amala’s. At supper the two previous nights, Dalton had reported that the training was going well, Rosco was learning fast, and Amala was a huge help explaining what they needed to do to impress the Futurity judges at the big fall event in Fort Worth. And each evening, as soon as the meal ended, he had excused himself and gone back to the barn with Glenn and Alejandro.

  It made her wonder if he was avoiding her. She never got a chance to ask him, which was probably a good thing, since she wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.

  Hey, Dalton, been avoiding me? And by the way, why did you kiss me?

  She was pathetic.

  Even though they rarely spoke directly during the evening meals, she was still intensely aware of him sitting at the other end of the table with Glenn and Alejandro. Maybe he was aware of her, too. She caught him looking at her several of the many times she looked at him.

  Last night at dinner, when Dalton had given Mama his daily Rosco report, he’d said he’d only be going to Amala for one more day. “Once the colt learns how to peel a cow out of the herd, then work it for a set length of time without letting it go back to the herd or letting the herd get around him, there might be more sessions. But for now, I’ll just work him on that.”

  Mama had asked him how long he thought that would take.

  “Depends on Rosco. He’s still young. If we bring him along too fast we run the risk he’ll get overwhelmed or burned out.”

  The two mutes sitting beside Dalton had nodded sagely and continued to eat.

  Joss fought a yawn.

  Raney refilled her wineglass. For two days they’d talked of nothing except Rosco—how well he was doing, how smart he was, how utterly amazing he was, and so on. Surely, they could find something else to talk about. Like, say . . . why he might be avoiding her.

  “He’s still progressing well?” Mama had asked, intent on keeping the redundant conversation going. “And you still think he’ll be ready for the US Cutting Horse Association’s fall Futurity?”

  “No reason to think otherwise. He’s got the talent. And he dearly loves working with cows. That’s not to say he’ll win the USCHA. But he’s got a chance for a great start.”

  More nods from the mutes.

  Raney studied Dalton as she chewed. He looked tired. She wondered if the yellow jacket bites were bothering him. Or maybe he was regretting what she’d come to think of as the “bathroom kiss” as opposed to the “veranda kiss.” Maybe he was sleeping as poorly as she was.

  Over dessert last night, Mama had mentioned the possibility of taking Rosco to several of the summer horse shows in the area. “Not to participate,” she had added, “since he can’t enter or compete until his debut at the Futurity. But he needs to become accustomed to the other horses, the noise of the crowd, the loudspeaker, and so forth. These early shows can be a useful training opportunity.”

  Dalton said Press had already given him a list of shows he thought Rosco should attend. “You ladies would be welcome to come along for moral support,” he’d said, looking around the table. “You, too,” he added to the mutes.

  His gaze might have lingered on Raney more than the others, but she wasn’t sure. Neither of the mutes responded.

  Joss pushed her plate aside. “Count me out. I’m not the horse-crazy one.”

  “Well, I’d certainly like to see how Rosco does,” Mama put in.

  So much for being able to talk to Dalton alone. Raney wasn’t sure if she was relieved or upset about that.

  “But I’ll tell you where I will go,” Joss said with a grin that always meant trouble. “Dancing! I heard Jerry and the Kickers are playing at Harley’s Roadhouse next weekend. Anybody want to go with me?”
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  Raney glanced at Dalton, wondering if he remembered their conversation on the drive to Waco.

  Apparently so. “How about it, Raney? No need to miss the fun just because you can’t dance. Joss and I will teach you the two-step. It’s easy.”

  “Can’t dance?” Joss laughed. “Who told you that? Raney can dance. Not very well, maybe. But at least she tried back when she still had a social life.”

  “Now I’ve got a real job,” Raney shot back. “You might try that sometime.”

  “It is going to be a long summer,” Alejandro muttered.

  Glenn nodded.

  After telling Mama he’d check on local cutting shows and get back to her, Dalton and the mutes had excused themselves. As she’d watched them leave, Raney decided if Dalton was seriously trying to put a move on her, this had to be the slowest pass in history.

  That was yesterday. But today, after he got back from Amala’s, she would talk to him even if she had to follow him into the barn. Hopefully, by then she’d know what she wanted to say.

  But an hour later, Dalton and Rosco still weren’t back and she was starting to worry. So many things could go wrong when trailering horses, and Dalton didn’t have the best driving record. Surely, he would call if there was a problem. Pushing that troublesome thought aside, she closed the ledgers and slipped them into the desk drawer, then went upstairs to get ready for supper.

  After a quick shower, she changed and was sitting at her vanity, trying to do something with her hair, when her mother walked in with a big bag of baby stuff, Joss on her heels. Once they’d talked Mama into turning KD’s room into the nursery since it was next door to Joss’s, she had been on a decorating tear.

  “Who are you getting so dressed up for?” Joss asked, eyeing the new blouse Raney had ordered online from Saks.

  “Mama, of course. She doesn’t like to smell horses while she eats.”

  “You sure it’s not for Dalton?”

  Mama waved the idea away. “Don’t be silly. Dalton’s gay. Look what I got for the nursery.” She dug through paint samples, color charts, and cloth strips.

  “Who told you he was gay?” Joss asked.

  “Raney. I’m thinking pink, since she’s a girl. But I know how you modern mothers hate gender typing, so we could use blue accents here and there. How’s this?” She held up a bright pink swatch with blue butterflies.

  Raney thought it was insulting to females of all ages.

  Joss didn’t even look at it. “You told Mama that Dalton is gay? If he is, then what were the two of you doing in the bathroom with the door closed?”

  Raney stared at her reflection and wondered what it would feel like to step through the mirror into another dimension.

  “What?” Mama whipped around. “You were in the bathroom with Dalton? Where? Doing what?”

  “In Waco. Putting ammonia on yellow jacket bites he couldn’t reach. And I only said Dalton was gay, Joss, so Mama would stop trying to foist me off on him.”

  “I never tried to foist you off on him.”

  “Only him and every other man past puberty.”

  “And I never believed he was gay, either. Not the way he keeps looking at you at the dinner table.” Mama pulled out more swatches. “Yellow is gender neutral, isn’t it?”

  “Really?” Joss eyed Raney in speculation. “I’ll have to watch for that at supper tonight. Desire over dessert,” she mused. “I like that. I should use it in one of my songs.”

  Raney dropped her head into her hands. “Jesus, take me now.”

  “Hush that talk, Raney,” Mama scolded. “He can hear you, you know. Now, what do you think of these fabrics for the nursery drapes?”

  “I don’t want drapes in the baby’s room. I want blinds.”

  “It’s a nursery, not a dentist’s office,” Mama argued.

  “I’m with Joss,” Raney cut in, hoping a show of loyalty would get her sister to back off. “Once she’s crawling, the first thing the baby will go for is the drapes.”

  Mama raised a hand in surrender. “All right. But at least let’s put up a valance. We can make a matching baby blanket to go with it.”

  “We who?” Raney muttered. “None of us sew.”

  “I’m sure we can figure it out,” Joss said airily. “How hard can it be?”

  Mama was packing her goodies back in her bag when Joss let out a squeal. “She kicked me!”

  Before Raney knew what was happening, her sister grabbed her hand and pressed it to her rounded belly. “Can you feel it?”

  Raney could. And it was freaky feeling something moving around inside another person’s body. “It doesn’t hurt?”

  “Not unless she kicks a kidney. Isn’t it wonderful!”

  “It’s weird.”

  “If you ever get pregnant, you won’t think so.” Blinking against tears, Joss patted her rotund midsection. “It’s amazing, isn’t it, Mama?”

  “It is.” Mama smiled from Raney to her new favorite daughter. “And I think every woman should experience it.”

  Two against one. Great. Raney admired how her mother could smile so sweetly and look pitying at the same time.

  Her cell phone buzzed. Raney saw it was Dalton and was debating whether to answer it with her mother and sister in the room, when Joss snatched it off the vanity top where Raney had set it.

  “Miss Raney Whitcomb’s office,” she said in a lilting secretarial voice. “I have you on speaker. How may I help you?”

  “I need to talk to Raney. Now.”

  “Take it off speaker and give it to me,” Raney ordered.

  Instead, Mama grabbed it. “This is Raney’s mother, Dalton. What’s wrong?”

  “Mama! Give me the phone!”

  Mama shushed her and held it out so they could all hear.

  “Toby Langers is pulling me over,” Dalton said. “I don’t know why. But he’ll probably trump up some bogus charge to take me in and I don’t want to leave the truck and Rosco beside the road. Can you send somebody to get them?”

  In the background Raney could hear the deputy asking for registration and proof of insurance.

  “Put Deputy Langers on the phone, Dalton,” Mama said in her kick-ass voice.

  Rustling, muted conversation, then a man’s voice said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Whitcomb. Deputy Langers here. What can I do for you today?”

  “You can tell me why you’ve pulled over my employee. Was he speeding?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Drinking?”

  “No.”

  “Smoking pot? Doing drugs? Asleep at the wheel?”

  “Not that I can tell. But I—”

  “Do you suspect him of any wrongdoing I should be made aware of?”

  “No, ma’am, but—”

  “Then why did you pull him over?”

  “Routine check, ma’am, that’s all.”

  “Routine check. I understand. But what I need for you to understand, Deputy, is that the horse Mr. Cardwell is trailering is very valuable and I’d hate to have anything happen to him while you were conducting a routine and unnecessary traffic stop.”

  “I’m entitled to make traffic stops whenever I see fit, Mrs. Whitcomb. Dalton Cardwell is a convicted felon. For all I know, he might have been stealing the horse.”

  “That’s why you pulled him over? You thought he might be stealing a horse?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Do speak up, Deputy. I’m recording this.”

  Silence.

  “Shall I have my lawyers meet you and Mr. Cardwell at your office, Deputy Langers? Or would you prefer we handle this directly with your boss, Sheriff Ford? I’m certain either he or my lawyers can explain all about probable cause, illegal searches, and what the penalties are for police harassment.”

  Silence.

  “O
r you can simply apologize to Mr. Cardwell for this misunderstanding and send him on his way. He’ll be late for supper as it is.”

  A long sigh. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that. And you have a nice day.” Mama returned the phone to Raney.

  “I could have handled it,” Raney snapped.

  “Of course you could. But the deputy is less likely to take the reprimand personally if it comes from a grandmother, rather than from someone who wouldn’t even dance with him at the Grange Christmas party last year.” Mama’s smile would have made a preacher sweat. “But as it happens, I did dance with Sheriff Ford, and I can assure you the man hasn’t forgotten it. Vinegar or honey, my dears. Men always choose honey. Now can we get back to the swatches?”

  Supper was delayed while they waited for Dalton to return, put Rosco away, and change clothes, since it was Saturday and they would be eating in the dining room. When Raney opened the door a while later, his hair was wet and he was slightly out of breath, but grinning. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Mercy, the things that grin could do to an empty stomach. “No problem,” she managed to say.

  As soon as they took their places at the table, the interrogation began. To bring the mutes up to date, Dalton spent the next half hour going into a detailed rendering of every “he said,” “I said,” and “Mrs. Whitcomb said” during his run-in with Langers. At least it was different from the usual Rosco report.

  Glenn was so transfixed by the account he stopped chewing for a moment.

  “Es un culero,” Alejandro muttered when Dalton finished.

  “What was that, Alejandro?”

  Alejandro met Dalton’s grin with a shrug. “I said he is an asshole, Senora.”

  Mama’s smile faltered momentarily then quickly recovered. “He certainly is. Would anyone care for more potatoes?” Ever gracious, Mama was.

  Joss, not so much. “Why is Deputy Langers out to get you?” she asked Dalton.

  “I took his spot on the high school football team.”

  “Seriously? He’s still upset about something that happened twenty years ago?”