Читать книгу High Country Homecoming - Roxanne Rustand - Страница 14

Well, that had certainly been awkward and embarrassing. But not unexpected as far as Devlin’s attitude was concerned, so at least he was still consistent.

If Chloe had known that he was going to be here, she would’ve given up her dream of three months of perfect, uninterrupted seclusion on this middle-of-nowhere ranch in Montana and headed straight to her new job in Kansas City that she didn’t want, but couldn’t refuse.

Lifting yet another heavy cardboard box from the trunk of her car, she shouldered her computer bag and started up the rocky trail to her cabin for the fifth time.

At the sound of footsteps behind her, she hesitated for a split second, then kept walking. But she was no match for Devlin’s long stride.

“I can carry that box,” he said as he fell in beside her. “I’m heading up that direction anyway.”

“No need.” She sidestepped when he tried to take it.

He gave a low sound of exasperation. “Still independent. I guess you haven’t changed that much after all.”

Adjusting the awkward weight of the box in her arms, she shot a side glance at him. “Neither have you.”

But that wasn’t exactly true.

He hadn’t been this polite the last time she’d seen him. Or this tall, well-muscled and flat-out handsome.

Back then, he’d been a tall, gangly sixteen-year-old, with a shock of unruly dark hair and the most beautiful silver-blue eyes she’d ever seen—back then, or since. She’d been just eleven, her last summer here, and he’d been her first big, hopeless crush. His lethal combination of teen-idol looks and bad-boy charisma had the girls in town following him like a flock of besotted groupies.

She’d teased him about them just to see his cheeks go red, but she had no doubt that the local women were going to be mighty pleased to see him back on their home turf. If someone, somewhere, wasn’t already wearing his ring and planning wedding bells, it wouldn’t take long for one of the locals to nab him. And the sooner, the better, before he broke any more hearts.

He certainly wouldn’t be breaking hers.

As a child, she’d been his persistent shadow, but in return he’d relentlessly teased her. Only when no one was watching did she ever let herself cry. She understood his behavior now, from an adult perspective. What teenage boy wanted a little girl to be his ever-present tagalong? But the teasing had hurt. He’d made her feel self-conscious and unworthy, and she’d grown to hate her freckles and everything else about herself.

But far worse, he’d hung out with the bad boys in high school—wild parties, lots of booze. She knew it was true—she’d seen him out in the woods and behind the barns, drinking with that rowdy crowd. And that scared her to death.

With a dad like hers, even at eleven she’d known Devlin’s drinking was a terrible red flag—a lifetime, ironclad deal-breaker, no questions asked.

No matter how handsome or polite or charming he might be now, she was not looking for romance any longer, and especially not with someone who partied and got drunk with his friends.

At the cabin, he stepped in front of her to open the door wide.

“Well, have a good...” He stared at the pile of boxes in the middle of the floor and the mountain of grocery sacks on the counter. “You sure pack light.”

At the brief deepening of the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, she felt the impact of his old charm clear down to her toes. The local women weren’t going to be just pleased at his return; they were going to be over-the-moon ecstatic.

“How long did you say you’re staying?”

Dropping the last box onto the stack, she pulled her laptop-case strap from her shoulder and laid the case on the kitchen table. “Three months. I had just enough money saved to stay here that long before I move on.”

“What sort of work did you do?”

“I was a secretary for...” she faltered, debating how much to reveal. “...a big investment firm, while putting myself through graduate school.”

That much was true, just not entirely complete. And it wasn’t like she was a criminal on the run—she’d been exonerated, after all. Even so, she’d already seen the expressions of doubt and accusation on the faces of acquaintances...people who’d wanted to believe the worst.

But Devlin had no interest in her. He surely wouldn’t think to try googling her on the internet, so it should be possible to simply keep her troubled past where it belonged. In the past.

He eyed her curiously. “What was your major?”

Mom had declared she was foolish to chase dreams that might never come true. When her own mother didn’t believe in her, was it ridiculous to think she could ever succeed? Would Devlin laugh if she told him about what she was doing?

“My major was Creative Writing,” she said. “That’s why I wanted to come out here. I wanted a peaceful, beautiful place to stay, where I could concentrate on my writing with no interruptions. Since I have such happy memories of Montana, this ranch seemed perfect.”

“And then where will you go?”

That was the hard part. Knowing Chloe’s situation, her sister had offered her a generous salary, and a chance for a fresh start. Far too generous an offer to refuse. But the thought of her future weighed on her shoulders like a mantle of iron.

She might not ever make much money with her writing, so she could hardly afford to turn down Jane’s offer, considering her legal debts. But it was the last thing she wanted to do. “I’ve got a property-management job waiting for me in Kansas City.”

He regarded her for a long moment. “You don’t exactly look thrilled about it.”

“It will be a blessing,” she said firmly. “I’ll need a job as soon as I leave. But until then, I will count myself fortunate to stay here once again.”

He seemed to consider that for a while, then sighed. “I expect Betty will be happy to see you.”

Chloe couldn’t help but smile at his less-than-gracious attitude. “I can’t wait to see her, either. After my mom took off, I used to pretend that she was my grandma. She still sends me birthday cards with invitations to come visit, but this is my first time back. When will the family be home?”

He was bent over the dead bolt on the door, checking it out. He didn’t answer.

He’d ignored some of her questions, and twice he hadn’t responded when she called out his name. She’d figured he was just being his usual distant self.

But now she wondered. Devlin had been physically wounded and probably had deeper, more-emotional wounds, as well. Who wouldn’t with all of the dangers he’d probably faced in battle?

Had he also ended up with hearing damage due to his military career?

It was entirely plausible, but prying personal information from him had always been a futile task. She waited until he looked up again. “When will the rest of your family be back?”

“A week from tomorrow.”

Sure enough, now she could see that he wasn’t just listening; he was trying to watch her speak. “Aren’t the twins in school?”

“Kindergarten, but they’re on spring break.” A corner of his mouth lifted in a fleeting, affectionate grin at the mention of the little girls. “They seemed pretty excited about Disneyland.”

“I can believe it. They’ll sure have a lot of days with Mickey.”

Devlin shrugged. “Not all of that time. They’re visiting their mom in San Diego, Jess is looking at some stallion prospects and Abby will be checking out a few colleges.”

“Who is Abby?”

“She was hired as a nanny last fall, and now she and Jess are engaged.”

“But she’s looking at colleges, so she’s leaving?”

“Considering online programs, I guess.”

“Good for her.” Chloe slid a knife through the shipping tape on the top of a cardboard box labeled Kitchenware and inspected the contents. Books.

She straightened and rested a hand at the small of her back. “You’ll have eight busy days ’til they get back, then. Are there ranch hands to do the chores?”

“Nope. I told Jess I could do it. Might as well earn my keep while I’m here.” He touched the brim of his Stetson and gave her a slight nod of farewell, then turned for the door. “‘Night.”

She’d already seen how he favored his weak right arm and shoulder, while handling that heavy pan of ham and scalloped potatoes. And when she’d heard the sound of gunfire down in the shooting range this afternoon, she’d walked up the hill and briefly watched him struggle to hit the targets.

At sixteen he wouldn’t have missed a single shot. But even from the top of the hill, she’d seen his rifle barrel wobble. Not wanting to embarrass him, she’d slipped away before he noticed she was there, but the problem was clear enough. How was he was going to manage doing chores?

Maybe he wasn’t warm and friendly, and he certainly wouldn’t ever be a pal. But she just couldn’t ignore someone in need, even if he wished she would disappear.

“Hey, Devlin—if you need any help, just holler,” she called out. “You’ve got my cell number, now.”

He didn’t respond.

She stared at the door closing behind him, feeling an old, familiar wave of compassion and frustration.

He hadn’t wanted help or sympathy years ago, and he clearly didn’t want it now. Which was fine. She already had a lot on her plate without trying to get past his prickly defenses.

Still, a warm sense of hope and purpose spread through her. She’d volunteered at the local no-kill animal shelter over the past few years and had rehabbed many foster animals in her little rental house. Wounded birds. Abused dogs. Feral cats. With love and care, she’d been able to send all of them back to the shelter when they were ready to find good forever homes.

Granted, a man like Devlin was a lot more complex than, say, a Corgi, but could she help him?

As a cheerleader and a compassionate listener, maybe she could tactfully help him somehow...or push him to find the services and support he needed. If only he would let her.

She re-taped the box she’d just opened, set it aside and sliced the shipping tape on a box marked Linens. This one was stuffed with sweaters. She sat back in her heels with a sigh.

Obviously her hasty departure from Minneapolis hadn’t been conducive to good organization, but she’d been so careful otherwise.

She’d avoided mentioning her moving plans to the few friends she had left. Canceled her newspaper and magazine subscriptions. Switched her bills to online payments. And then she’d arranged a three-month disappearance at a private Montana ranch, where she would pay for everything in cash.

Escaping that one persistent reporter—who had continued to paint her in his series of articles as a greedy, conniving Jezebel angling for a wealthy, married man—had been her first priority, and speed had been her greater concern.

Even after she’d been exonerated, the reporter had refused to let the story go. Since then she had applied for several jobs. Every time, the interviewer had looked at her name, then looked up at her face with dawning recognition. And that job possibility had ended.

But now she was far away. Starting her life over. And hopefully he’d find no trail to follow.

* * *

Devlin groaned as he watched the twins’ pony hightail it out of the front of the barn. For an animal that fat and lazy, Lollipops showed surprising speed now that he was free.

He’d turned his back on the beast for a split second while dropping hay into the corner manger of the pony’s stall, never expecting that Lollipops would move a muscle except to head toward his grain and hay. He’d seen the twins riding in the arena, trying to get the pony into a lope, and a truck with an empty gas tank moved faster.

Muttering under his breath, he grabbed a bucket of pellets, plus a halter and lead rope, and jogged outside to the parking area.

The pony was nowhere in sight.

Not by the pasture fence to the east of the barn, where a couple dozen broodmares close to their foaling dates could be seen standing slant-hipped around three round bale feeders, whiling away their time until being brought in for the night.

Not along the fence on the other side of the barn, where a dozen mares and their new foals were out on forty acres of pasture.

And not along the fence line perpendicular to the broodmare pasture, farther to the west, where a herd of heavily pregnant cows were lined up along the long feed bunk.

That meant the pony could be heading down the long gravel lane toward the highway, which would be a remarkably bad idea given the semitrucks that blew by a good twenty miles an hour over the speed limit. Or, if he’d thundered past the broodmare pasture, he might have turned into the dirt lane leading up to the summer range pastures. Though unlikely that he’d leave close proximity to the other horses, he could end up lost forever if he skirted the fences and kept going.

Devlin needed help, and Chloe was the last person he’d want to call, but she was also the only other person here. So be it. She could always say no. He reached for his phone—and realized he’d left it in his cabin when he’d gone back for some more Tylenol.

At the abrupt sound of the pup barking excitedly, Devlin heaved a sigh of relief and jogged up to the main house. Bingo.

Repeatedly jumping up against the chain-link fence surrounding the yard, Poofy wagged his tail furiously when Devlin came into view. Then he ran to the far corner and began barking anew, his attention fixed on the trail leading to the cabins.

Which wasn’t exactly good news, either.

The final cabin sat atop the hill, looking over a series of rising foothills that led up into the mountains and the unfenced government land that abutted a corner of the Langford ranch.

Devlin weighed the options of going back to saddle a horse, grabbing a four-wheeler from the machine shed or just continuing on foot to the top of the hill. His cabin overlooked a grassy meadow on the other side of the hill, already green with tender spring grass. Surely the greedy little beast wouldn’t go farther than that.

What on earth would he say to the girls if he’d lost their pony forever? Mountain lions, bears and even the occasional wolf were all possible out here. And all would consider a chubby, elderly pony easy prey.

He hesitated, then knocked on Chloe’s door, softly first, then louder. From inside he could hear a radio. Was she just ignoring him? Putting him in his place? Swallowing his pride for the sake of the twins and their beloved pony, he banged on the door louder.

No answer.

So be it. He headed back up the trail, hoping Lollipops didn’t prove to be too cagey for one person to catch.

Just past his cabin, Devlin shielded the sun from his eyes with his hand and muttered a rusty prayer as he searched the makeshift rifle range in the meadow and the surrounding timber. Nothing.

Wait...

At the far side of the meadow, something was rustling through the underbrush. A moment later the vagabond pony stepped out of the shadows with a slender figure at his side.

Chloe.

Relief and gratitude flooded through him. Thank you, Lord.

His boots sent pebbles skittering down the rocky slope as he descended the steep hill to meet them. Sunlight filtering through the pine branches turned the palomino pony’s coat to molten gold, and picked out the gold and ruby highlights of Chloe’s auburn hair. If he had any artistic abilities, he would’ve wanted to capture the beauty of the scene on canvas.

Her arrival at the ranch had been the last thing he’d expected. He’d resolved to keep his distance from her. But right now he couldn’t think of a more welcome sight.

“Looking for someone?” Chloe called out as they met in the middle of the grassy meadow. She was holding on to a narrow leather belt she’d buckled around the pony’s neck. “He was really trucking when he ran past my cabin, but he wasn’t hard to catch once I caught up with him.”

“Thanks, Chloe.”

“He melted at the sight of a carrot. I think he was having second thoughts about missing his dinner.”

“From the looks of him, he hasn’t missed many.” Devlin slipped the halter onto him and gave Chloe her belt back. “I owe you one. You’ve made the twins very happy.”

She said something he couldn’t hear, so he looked over at her to watch her lips as she spoke. “What?”

“Who is this little guy, by the way?” she repeated.

Dev started leading the pony toward home, with Chloe on his other side. Only then did he notice two remaining carrots still sticking up from the back pocket of her jeans. “His name is Lollipops.”

She laughed. “I’ll have to say, those girls are certainly original.”

At the top of the hill, Devlin stopped in front of his cabin. “Hang on to him a minute, would you? I need to grab my cell phone.”

When he came out with his phone, Chloe was cradling the pony’s head in the crook of her arm, his thick, long white mane flowing over her arm like a waterfall. The tender pose and the soft glow of her beautiful complexion nudged at his heart, and once again he wished he could capture the scene with oils or watercolors.

“So, is this where you live?” she asked, staring up at the dilapidated cabin. “In that?”

He nodded. “For now.”

“It looks...rustic,” she said tactfully. “Is it better inside?”

He snorted. “Nope.”

“If I hadn’t shown up, then you’d be in the nicer cabin, right?” She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry—though not quite sorry enough to switch. This one is scary.”

After some of the places he’d been in the Middle East, it was a palace. “It’ll do.”

“I could break down that door with a sneeze. Does it even lock?”

“Not yet.”

She raised her gaze to the mossy, swaybacked roof. “And does it leak?”

“I’m sure it does, given the water stains on the floor. But it hasn’t rained since I got here, so I’m good.”

“So far.” She rolled her eyes. “I’d guess varmints moved inside long ago. Right?”

“Just the mice and chipmunks that aren’t giving up their territory without a fight. I need to borrow a barn cat from the horse barn.”

She visibly shuddered. “Really, this cabin would make a nice bonfire. Then a new one could be built in its place. Why did Jess give you this sorry mess? Even a corner in the horse barn would be better. Maybe the tack room?”

When she turned away to study the cabin, he could only guess at half of the words she was saying, but he certainly caught her drift.

“Well?” Now she looked exasperated, and a warrior’s gleam lit her eyes as she propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. “When Jess gets back, I’m going to talk to him.”

This was the Chloe he remembered, ready to go toe-to-toe with anyone, in righteous defense of her latest cause. Usually in his defense, to tell the truth, though Dad had never been impressed. He’d told her father to “keep that kid out of my way” more than once.

But Devlin didn’t need anyone—especially Chloe—standing up for him now. Especially against a brother who had welcomed him home with open arms, despite how he’d failed the family three years ago. He was the prodigal son...only worse.

“Jess wanted me to stay in the main house, but I prefer my privacy. This works.”

“But—”

“And I’m starting renovations on it, so it’ll be convenient to stay up here. Once everyone gets home, I’ll get to work. Then I’ll reno the middle cabin next. I want to get both done before I leave. As...as a favor.”

Penance was the right word, but that would open up all sorts of questions he had no intention of answering, and some that he couldn’t.

He wondered what Chloe would think if she knew the truth about the kind of man he really was. But then again, maybe she’d known all along.