Читать книгу A Reunion For The Rancher - Brenda Minton - Страница 11

Chapter Two

As much as Carson loved living on this ranch in Texas Hill Country, some mornings he’d just as soon put it on the market and move to the city. Or to another country. This was one of those mornings. He’d been up since well before daybreak, and he’d heard nothing but problems and complaints since he set foot in the barn.

The hay they’d bought from Iowa hadn’t showed up, there was an outbreak of pinkeye and someone really needed to do something about the wild hogs that were tearing up a section of field at the back of the property where the hills were steep and a creek supplied water. Carson poured himself a cup of coffee, raised a hand to the young kid about to ask what he needed to do, since it was his second day on the job, and walked out the back of the barn to watch the sun come up over an autumn landscape.

He sighed as he sipped about the worst coffee in history. For a brief moment he could forget wild hogs, pinkeye, drought and cattle thieves. For that moment, as he watched the sun come up, he knew God existed and he knew that as bad as things could look, somehow they always worked out in the end. For a man who sometimes felt as far from God as he could get, maybe that was getting somewhere.

The door creaked open. He sighed and turned to face that kid again. Ron? No. Rolland? Rick.

“Can I help you, Rick?”

“I just thought I should tell you that gray mare of yours looks like she’s got a tendon problem. I’ve doctored her the best I could, but I think she might need a vet. And...” The kid let out a breath as if that was how he filled himself with courage. “Someone got into the trophy case. This back door was open when I got here.”

“Trophy case?” Why would anyone want trophies that were thirty years old?

“There are a few empty spaces and some belt buckles missing.” Rick cleared his throat on that news. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll take a look. I can’t imagine anything of value. Just dusty old trophies. Keepsakes, mostly.”

“Maybe the silver?”

“I guess a few of them might have silver.” He followed Rick inside. “Did Larry and Gayla show up to take that gelding and the other mare to the show in Houston?”

“Yes, sir. They left last night. Larry wanted to get them there a few days early, give them time to settle in before the event.”

That’s why Larry was his trainer. The couple was invaluable. They trained, they were able to hit shows and rodeos he couldn’t, and they were dependable.

Rick, just eighteen, tall and wiry with a shock of wheat-colored hair, led him to the tack and trophy room. He pointed to the trophy case, his face a little pale. Carson stepped close, surveying the loss. It wasn’t much, a few trophies, mostly sentimental. Why would anyone want trophies? He shook his head. And then he noticed that his mom’s trophy, won at a national finals event, was gone. He hadn’t paid much attention over the years, but he didn’t want that piece of his history gone.

And why would anyone want it? The only thing he could think was that someone wanted to mess with him, maybe show him they could take what they wanted. They’d made it personal, taking those trophies.

He walked out, left that room, left the barn and headed for the house. Rick didn’t follow him. Fortunately no one asked where he was going. He didn’t really know.

His gaze settled on the house, a museum of a place in Georgian architecture that his grandfather had built. Columned porticos extended from each side of the house, those massive porches devoid of warmth or furnishings. Rose gardens ran wild because he didn’t really care. It was the one thing he’d let go, those flower gardens. They represented his only rebellion against his father’s legacy.

Carson took care of business. He took care of the ranch. He maintained the family reputation and standing in the community. He didn’t like roses, so if something had to be neglected on a ranch this size it was going to be the flowers.

As he climbed the steps of the front porch a car shot up the driveway, coming to a quick stop in front of the detached garage. He nearly groaned when he saw who it was. His sister, Jenna, five years his junior, and never one to take the family name seriously, jumped out of her little car and reached in the backseat. When she emerged she had her son by the hand. They were both dark haired and dark eyed, and the little boy looked tired.

Jenna looked on the verge of some kind of breakdown.

“Here.” She pushed her son’s hand into his.

“What?”

“I can’t do this. I need a break. Just a few days.”

“He isn’t a...” Carson looked down at the little guy and bit back every foul word he wanted to say to his sister. Her child wasn’t a puppy. He wasn’t something you handed off, like secondhand toys or clothing. He was a person with feelings.

And little feet that shifted back and forth as the boy squirmed and looked increasingly more uncomfortable.

“Head for the bathroom, Brandon.” Carson opened the door for the five-year-old. The little boy shot past him and into the house.

“He’s out of control,” Jenna informed Carson. As if that was his fault. He considered telling his sister that her son wasn’t out of control. She was.

“I’m not the one dragging him from town to town and from relationship to relationship, Jenna. That’s on you. Stay here, be a mom and take care of your son.”

“Don’t judge me.”

He groaned. “Why is it when people are messing up and someone points it out to them, they always fall back on judgment? I’m not judging you. I’m telling you the truth.”

“Carson, I just need a few days. I need a break.”

“You’re a mom, Jenna. I don’t think you get to walk away from that.”

“I’m not walking away. I just need for you to do this for me. Just this once. I promise when I come back I’ll do better. I’ll get my act together.”

“I think you should definitely get your act together. But stay here and do it. Don’t walk away.”

Tears were streaming down her face, and Carson took a step toward her. She shook her head.

“Carson, I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know why everything is going wrong and I can’t seem to make it right. I can’t be the mom Brandon needs. I’ve never been a good wife. I’m just empty. I have to go.”

“No.” Carson reached for her hand, but she evaded and headed down the steps.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise,” she called out as she got in her car.

He would have gone after her, but Brandon came out of the house, wide-eyed and mouth agape. When the little guy looked as if he was about to run after the car, Carson snatched him up.

Together they watched the little red car speed down the driveway.

“So, Brandon, have you had breakfast?” He didn’t know what else to say.

Or what else to do. He didn’t know what to do with a kid. He didn’t know how long it would take his sister to get her head on straight. Days? Weeks?

Brandon sniffled and a few tears slipped down his cheeks. “I spilled the milk last night, and there wasn’t anything to eat this morning.”

Carson pulled the door open and marched his nephew inside. First things first: food.

As he rummaged around looking for kid-friendly food, he thought about Jenna. His sister had seemed lost for years. Their mom’s death had rocked their family, but maybe it had been hardest on a girl just about to enter her teens. When he looked back he realized she’d always drifted. She’d gone from relationship to relationship. She’d never quite found herself. And now Brandon was suffering for it.

He found cereal in the cabinet that hadn’t been opened. It looked like the kind full of sugar and obviously what a boy would most want for breakfast. He poured a bowl for Brandon, then poured one for himself.

As soon as he got Brandon settled at the table with breakfast he needed to call in the theft of the trophies. It didn’t amount to much, but they needed every theft on record.

He thought about how he would question Ruby Donovan and her brother without really appearing to blame the younger man. Because everyone was a suspect at this point. He wouldn’t doubt if some people in town were putting his name on a list.

As he contemplated, something crashed. A shriek followed. He hadn’t been watching Brandon. He turned in time to see the curtain rod over the French doors come crashing down. The curtains fell, the picture frames on the wall to the left of the door shattered and glass flew everywhere.

Brandon was in the middle of the mess on an overturned chair.

“What in the world?” Carson lifted the boy out of the mess.

“I was going to try and get that spider.” Brandon pointed.

Carson groaned and shook his head. He had to find something to do with a five-year-old until Jenna came to her senses. But first they needed breakfast and a trip to the Donovans’.

* * *

Ruby walked down to the old barn that had been on her family farm since almost the beginning. And it looked every bit of its almost one hundred years. The weathered, wood-sided structure leaned a little from time, from wind and rain, but it was sturdy.

There were a few stalls inside, a hayloft in the top of the barn and a good corral. It was perfect for the business she wanted to start: teaching young children to ride. It wouldn’t bring in a lot of money, but until she could buy more livestock to replenish what had been sold off over the past few years and get a job, it would have to do.

Derek joined her, looking over the barn with the same critical eye she’d used moments earlier. He brushed a hand through his dark chestnut hair. The sun captured just the slightest hint of red. He was tall and thin, too thin. He had her hazel eyes but with darker, thicker lashes. He looked like their dad. And it worried her that sometimes he acted like Earl Donovan. Restless. Their dad had always been restless. He’d been a cowboy, a saddle bronc rider and an alcoholic.

“How can I help?” Derek asked. This was the new Derek, the kid who wasn’t quite twenty but wanted to change his life. She didn’t credit prison with that change; she credited his newfound faith.

People might doubt that faith. She didn’t. It was no jailhouse conversion.

“There isn’t a lot we can do,” she admitted. “I have to get students. So far I have three. That isn’t even going to pay the feed bill. I need ten a week. Even that isn’t a living.”

“We’ve got a dozen steers we can take to the auction next month. By then they should bring enough to keep us solvent for a little while. And I’m going to get a job at the steakhouse washing dishes.”

She closed her eyes at the revelation. “Thank you.”

“It’s my farm and my family, too. Sometimes you forget that, Ruby. It isn’t all on you.”

She leaned into his shoulder, and he patted her back before moving away. She smiled, because he’d never enjoyed her displays of sisterly affection. “I’m proud of you, Derek.”

“And I’m not going to let you down. I’m almost twenty. It’s time for me to get my head on straight and figure some things out.”

“Yes, well, I’m nine years older than you and I can say the same about my life.”

“You had a career, sis, and you gave it up to come home and help out. You’ll get another job.”

“You’re right. I will. I really hope I can get on with the state. I’m just not sure I want to continue being a caseworker.”

He walked with her to the field where a half dozen ponies and small horses grazed on grass that was brown. The animals were all colors, all sizes. But they were gentle and well broke.

“There was another theft last night,” Derek said as he leaned against the wood fence. “You know they’re going to come here, right?”

“I know.”

Four head of cattle from a farm that ran hundreds of head. Why just four? The thieves were being careful? Or maybe unsure of how to dispose of the animals?

From what she’d heard they were hitting farms that had recently purchased animals, so the cattle weren’t yet branded. That was smart on their part and meant the thieves knew the ranches.

A truck pulled up to the house. Ruby glanced in that direction and groaned. “Why?”

“Because the guy still has a thing for you?” Derek said with a grin.

“I think that’s the furthest thing from the truth.” She watched as Carson Thorn got out of his truck, and then she watched as he stood there waiting for something. Or someone.

She saw the someone. A little boy with dark hair and the same confident swagger as Carson. The two headed her way, discussing something that appeared to be of major importance if the serious look on their faces meant anything. Carson shook his head. The little boy frowned. Carson looked away but not before she saw his lips turn in amusement.

“Carson,” she greeted with her best formal tone. All business. That was how she wanted to keep him, in the category of the past, and business.

“Ruby,” he said, tipping his hat.

“And this is?” She knelt in front of the child. “That’s a great hat.”

The miniature Carson pushed his white cowboy hat back and gave her a careful look before nodding in the direction of the horses. “I’m Brandon. Are those your ponies?”

“Yes, they are.”

“My mom says I’m about big enough to start riding.” His gaze shifted to Derek. “Wow, that belt buckle is cool.”

She glanced up and saw the buckle in question. The one their father had won for a national championship. A belt buckle she’d told Derek to get rid of. He could sell it. He could give it away. She didn’t care. But she did care that he held on to the past and to his hero worship of their father.

Derek shot her a look telling her to mind her own business.

“Thanks.” Derek glanced toward the ponies. “Want to check them out? Carson can list all the reasons why I’m...”

Derek stopped himself with a warning look from Ruby. The last thing they needed was for Derek to antagonize Carson Thorn.

The little boy looked at him, waiting expectantly for him to finish what he planned to say.

“Carson can tell you why I’m the best person to teach you to rope,” Derek finished with a grin.

Ruby watched her brother walk away with the child. She looked back at Carson, watched him watching the two—one tall and lanky, the other small and confident. She hated that looking at Carson brought it all back—the hope, the laughter. The dreams.

The heartache.

Smoke and mirrors, she realized now. It had all been an illusion. The smoke cleared and she’d seen reality the day Carson’s dad had handed her a check and told her to go to college, be someone, but not to count on being a Thorn.

“Did you put up the cameras?” Carson asked as he continued to watch Derek with the child. They had retrieved a rope from the barn. Derek was showing the little boy how it worked and then letting him give it a shot. The lasso flew through the air and fell to the ground short of the target—the fence post.

“No. I have to wait until I can pay an electrician. And why are you really here? The cattle stolen last night?”

“No.”

“Something else?”

“He’s my nephew. Jenna’s son,” Carson said, watching the little boy climb the fence and reach for a buckskin pony the color of wheat.

That wasn’t really an answer to her question. She considered pushing, but why? His answer would probably just upset her. Not only that, but she’d latched on to another issue that proved she couldn’t be in Little Horn and not get all tangled up in the past.

“Is Jenna in town?” Silly question. If her son was in town, she was in town.

“No,” he answered, his firm lips held in a straight and unforgiving line. “She showed up early this morning and dropped him off. I’m not quite sure what to do with him.”

“How long do you think you’ll have him?”

He rubbed a hand across his jaw and shook his head. “I don’t have a clue. She said a few days, but I’m a little worried.”

“About her?” She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t delve into his life or the uncertainty in his expression.

“Yes. But I’ll call her later and see what we can figure out.”

“If she’s leaving him for any length of time, he should probably be in school.”

His eyes narrowed and he looked down at her. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. She took me by surprise.”

“Ambushed.” She grinned as she said it.

“Something like that.”

“You’ll have to enroll him if she doesn’t come back.”

He nodded but his gaze had drifted back to the boy. “Once I can talk to her and get more out of her than she needs time, I’ll do what I have to do. What are the ponies for?”

“Riding lessons.”

He nodded yet again and headed that way, toward the horses, her brother, his nephew. She followed.

“Where are the security cameras?” he asked as he stopped to watch Derek lift his nephew over the fence and to the ground.

“In the back of my truck,” Ruby answered. “Derek, could you get a saddle for the buckskin?”

Derek let a shoulder rise and fall. “Sure. Brandon, let me lift you back over the fence.”

Brandon shook his head. “I can do it.”

Sure enough he climbed the fence, dropping to the ground next to his uncle. His very solemn uncle, who watched him as if he was some type of alien creature. She guessed to Carson the child was foreign and strange.

He was a child. Carson had probably never been a child. Even as a teenager he’d been older than his years. She imagined as a boy he’d been just as serious.

“Which saddle?” Derek asked as he headed to the barn.

“I only have three. Grab the one you think will work best.”

“What are you doing?” Carson asked.

“Giving your nephew a free riding lesson. And then you can tell everyone what a great time he had.”

“Can I?” he asked.

“Please,” she added. And he smiled, shifting the seriousness from his features, relaxing just enough to make him look younger, less controlled. More like himself.

“It would be a decent thing to do,” Derek added.

“Yes, it would,” Carson agreed. His careful gaze lingered on the six horses in varied sizes from pony to small horse.

After a cautious look at the two of them, Derek walked away, taking his new friend with him. Ruby was left to deal with Carson and leftover emotions that should have been put to rest years ago.

It wouldn’t help to look at him, to look into brown eyes that were at once serious and warm. It wouldn’t help to think about how it had felt to stand this close to him at seventeen, thinking they would always be together.

What helped was thinking about how it felt to leave thinking he might come after her, that he might still want her once he realized how much she’d given up for him.

He hadn’t come looking for her. She’d done her best to forget.