A Family in Wyoming

by Lynnette Kent

  With the chestnut unsaddled, brushed and turned into the corral with a pile of hay, Wyatt decided he had to get himself some coffee or fall asleep on his feet. Susannah would have left the brewer on.

  What he didn’t expect was to find her awake, seated at the kitchen table with Garrett. They both looked up as he came in, but neither asked how it was going. His face no doubt answered the question.

  “You haven’t eaten in hours,” she said instead, standing. “Let me make you some food.”

  He started for the coffeepot, surprised that she’d noticed he hadn’t bothered with dinner.

  But she caught his arm and pulled him around. “I’ll make your coffee. Just sit down.”

  Wyatt was tired enough that he did what she ordered him to. When she brought the cup, he gulped greedily and only afterward said, “Thanks.”

  “You ought to get some sleep,” Garrett urged him. “At least a couple of hours.”

  Shaking his head, Wyatt drained off more of his mug. “What did he do in here?”

  Susannah turned from the refrigerator holding eggs and bacon. “How did you know he’d been inside the house?”

  “Honey was out. The door was unlocked.” More coffee. “What’s the damage?”

  “He washed the pots and pans,” Garrett said. “Left them drying on the counter.”

  “To taunt me.” Susannah went to the counter and set down the food. “He always made fun of the way I liked to keep things neat.” With her back to him, she braced her arms on the counter. “I am so ashamed to have brought this trouble into your lives.”

  “I’m going to check on the boys. Just because.” Garrett threw Wyatt a pointed glance and then got to his feet and stepped quietly through the dining room door.

  “Doing the right thing,” Wyatt said slowly, “usually causes trouble, one way or another. That’s simply how life works.” He set down his mug and went to stand beside Susannah. “You’ve spent years doing the right thing—keeping the promises you made even when your husband didn’t.”

  She took a deep breath and relaxed her arms, clasping her hands together in front of her on the counter. “I tried.”

  “This summer, he crossed the line of what you could accept. You chose to do the right thing for your kids, which meant leaving him. Given his nature, problems were inevitable.”

  “Yes. But—”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “My family did the right thing in offering you and Nate and Amber refuge. We didn’t expect it to be easy or worry-free. But I’m certain that none of us would’ve chosen to act differently, if we had the chance. Knowing you, enjoying you and the children in our lives this summer, has been a privilege I...we wouldn’t give up for anything.”

  A tear splashed on her knuckle. “You’re very kind.”

  Wyatt barked a laugh. “Hell, Susannah, you know I’m not kind. I’m ornery and curt at the best of times, and right now is not one of those. But I tell the truth.”

  Turning toward him, she reached up and laid her slender palm along the side of his face. “You’re a strong and decent man with a gentle heart. That’s what matters.” The shine in her eyes, the smile on those soft lips, said she loved him as plainly as if she’d spoken the words.

  But how could he accept this gift she wanted to give at the expense of an independence she’d never had a chance to explore? Didn’t loving her mean he owed her a life of her own choosing?

  He squeezed her shoulder and then took a step back, away from her touch. “What matters is that we find Bradley and get him in jail where he belongs.” So he wouldn’t have to witness the change in her face, he walked to the table, picked up his mug and took a drink of cold coffee. “I’ll talk to Wade Daughtrey tomorrow.”

  When he looked at her again, she was peeling apart strips of bacon. “I made biscuits earlier,” she said. “I’ll warm them up.”

  “Sounds good.”

  And to that useless comment she made no response at all.

  As he finished his meal, Ford and Dylan came into the kitchen, neither of them having found a trace of the missing horses.

  “Daylight will help,” Ford said, rubbing his hands over his face. “Every clump of sagebrush resembles a horse in the dark.”

  “They’re out there laughing at us.” Dylan folded his arms on the table and put his head down. “Standing safe and sound in some secluded corner, listening to us yelling their names like fools.” His Appaloosa, Leo, was one of the missing.

  Susannah brought more food to the table. “You’ll feel better if you eat something. What else do you need?”

  “A good night’s sleep,” Dylan mumbled into his arms. Then he sat up and smiled at her. “You’re a wonder, you know. Feeding cowboys at five in the morning after being up all night goes beyond the call of duty.”

  She ruffled his hair, as a mother would her son, before going to pick up the coffeepot and bring it to the table. “More?” she asked Wyatt without meeting his eyes.

  “Thanks.” Mug in hand, he got to his feet. “I’m going to take a shower and change, then head out in the truck at daylight, which shouldn’t be too long now.”

  In fact, when he reached his bedroom, the blackness outside his window didn’t seem quite so deep as it had been, and he could move around easily without switching on a lamp. The lack of artificial light soothed his tired eyes. Taking his shower in the dark brought relief to his aching muscles, too, and he felt almost optimistic as he dried off. They would find those damn horses, and they’d all be just fine.

  Standing in front of his closet, however, he realized he couldn’t choose his clothes in the dark, so he clicked on the light beside the bed. Squinting against the glare, he saw a piece of paper lying squarely in the center of the mattress. He had no doubt who’d put it there—Travis Bradley had left him a message.

  If I can’t have them, he had scrawled, nobody can.

  * * *

  AS SUSANNAH FINISHED drying the last pan, the fiery-orange rim of the sun crept over the horizon, sending the first beams of daylight through the kitchen window. Time to get up...except she’d never been to bed.

  She could, she decided, afford to rest for a few minutes before Amber awakened. Filling her coffee cup yet again, she carried it out to the front porch and sat in one of the rockers with Honey at her feet. Oh, how she would miss the beautiful, loving dog when they moved.

  Then again, what wouldn’t she miss about this special place? Dawn breaking over the plains to the east, painting the clouds with rose and gold? Or a brilliant sunset, the splashes of red and orange and purple a perfect backdrop to the peaks of the Bighorns? The rippling water of Crazy Woman Creek, where Amber loved to play, the endless stretch of grass pasture and the cattle grazing there? The cozy red barn, filled with the sweet scent of hay?

  What about the Marshalls, themselves? Ford, with his incisive intelligence, his sharp blue eyes and unbeatable logic. Caroline, a soon-to-be Marshall whose care and concern had rescued her children from the menace of abuse. Garrett, intuitive and supportive but also wryly funny.

  And Dylan, the charmer who, even with his heart broken, could always manage to boost a woman’s spirits. She’d come to love them all. She would miss their daily presence with an ache that might never heal.

  But, ah, Wyatt...her love for Wyatt had grown far beyond what she had imagined love could be. He had become as necessary in her life as her children. Like them, she really wasn’t sure how she would manage without him.

  She would, of course, though the prospect dismayed her. For her children, she would do anything she had to.

  When Honey lifted her head and perked her ears, Susannah glanced toward the front door just as Wyatt stepped outside. He gave her a smile. “A little chilly out here, isn’t it?” He still looked tired and stressed.

  She raised her cup. “Warm coffee. A
re you going out again?” The sun had popped up into the eastern sky, and the day was going to be a bright one.

  “Toward the road,” he said with a nod to the driveway leading off the ranch. “They could be running anywhere between here and the county highway. Or beyond. First, though, I thought I’d give this another try.”

  He stepped to the edge of the porch, put his fingers in his mouth and blew the whistle that summoned Caesar. And again.

  In the morning silence, Susannah could have sworn she heard a faint horse’s whinny. Judging by the tilt of Wyatt’s head, he’d heard it, too. He signaled once more.

  Another whinny, slightly louder. Like an approaching storm, the thunder of hooves sounded in the distance, a soft drumming that grew louder with the advance of a dust cloud along the driveway. Caesar’s trumpet call, answering Wyatt’s third whistle, was echoed by other equine voices.

  And then Susannah could see them—a herd of horses galloping within the fog stirred up by their hooves. Caesar, pale as a ghost, held the lead. As she wondered how they would ever stop, Wyatt jogged down the porch steps and out into the middle of the drive going by the house, right in front of the approaching stampede. Legs spread wide, arms stretched out, he stood motionless before the onslaught.

  With her heart pounding in her chest, Susannah jerked to her feet. What on earth could she do to help?

  The screen door banged and Ford came out, hair wet, shirt hanging open over his jeans. “What the hell—?” His younger brothers stood behind him.

  “Oh, my God,” Garrett said, and it was a prayer.

  But Dylan laughed. “Leave it to the boss.”

  Susannah couldn’t close her eyes, though she wanted to. She had to see what happened.

  In that moment, she could only believe that Wyatt would be killed. By his own galloping horse.

  But then, with perfect control, Caesar slowed to a trot...to a prance. Finally, to a stop. Snorting, throwing his head from one side to the other, he stood an arm’s length away from Wyatt, asking for approval. Aren’t you impressed? Didn’t I do well?

  Behind him, the other horses milled around, blowing off steam. Among them, Susannah could see Leo, Dylan’s horse; Ford’s palomino, Nugget; and the black shadow that was Garrett’s Chief. She didn’t know the other horses as well, but she counted at least twenty.

  “Is that all of them?” she asked Ford.

  Nodding, he finished buttoning his shirt. “Apparently. Horses tend to stay together—they feel more secure in their herd. Now all we have to do is wrangle them back to the field.”

  “Mommy?”

  Susannah turned to find her daughter standing at the screen door. “What in the world are you doing awake?” She went to pick up the little girl. “It’s still early.”

  Amber snuggled into her shoulder. “I heard Caesar. I wanted to see him.”

  Shifting so the girl could have a full view of the horses, Susannah looked at Ford. “How will you move them?”

  “There are four of us. We’ll make it work, somehow.” Then he glanced toward the bunkhouse and chuckled. “Well, how about that. We have help, after all.”

  Like Amber, the boys must have been awakened by the commotion and come outside to find out what was going on. Susannah checked out the cabin, where Caroline and the girls were up, too. Everyone was still in their pajamas, but they’d put on shoes.

  And so what could have been chaos became fairly simple, with Wyatt leading Caesar toward the barn and all the kids plus Ford, Garrett and Dylan herding the other horses along behind them. Susannah followed, carrying a barefoot Amber. She watched with pride as Nate and the other teenagers drove the skittish animals up the hill with the confidence of experienced cowboys and cowgirls. Going around the corner of the barn and through the gate proved a little tricky—the horses wanted to crowd in all at once. But with the help of the Marshall brothers, the kids who had been nervous greenhorns at the beginning of the summer managed to funnel the herd through with real finesse. Wyatt opened the gate into their pasture, and with homecoming neighs, the horses reclaimed their familiar home. After a few minutes of cantering around, they all found a place to stop and settled in to graze.

  “Whew.” Arms propped on the top of the gate from the corral, now safely closed, Wyatt blew out a breath. “That was an adventure.” He eyed the kids standing on either side of him. “My thanks to all of you for helping. It would have been a lot harder without you.”

  “How’d they get out?” Thomas asked.

  “Yeah, especially in front of the barn like that,” Marcos added.

  “Somebody left the gates open,” Wyatt said tersely.

  “One of us?” Nathan demanded.

  “No” was all Wyatt said.

  But Travis’s son understood. “He did this? He let the horses loose? When he knows...” His face white and drawn, he spun around and stalked across the corral.

  Susannah started after him. “Nathan—”

  But Wyatt stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Let me talk to him.” He nodded toward Amber. “You take care of her. I’ll handle this.” He strode toward the barn.

  And because she really had no idea what she would say, Susannah let him go.

  * * *

  WYATT FOUND NATE in the tack room, sitting on the couch with his hands gripped between his knees and his head bowed. “You okay?”

  Nate shook his head. “How could he do that? He’s a cowboy. He should care about horses. Not put them in danger.”

  How did you explain evil to a kid? “He had a different purpose in mind.”

  “To pester you?”

  “Something like that.” The note left on his bed was more than pestering. But the boy didn’t need that detail.

  “He’s so messed up.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I wish he was dead.”

  “No, you don’t. I know for a fact he would haunt you the rest of your life.”

  Nate looked up at him. “I remember—your dad died when you were a teenager. Was he a good guy?”

  “He had his problems. Like your dad, he drank too much.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  “He yelled a lot when he was drunk. That last night...” Wyatt drew a breath. “The two of us had a fight. Then he stormed out and got in the truck, driving drunk. I remember wishing...wishing he wouldn’t come back. And he didn’t.”

  “That wasn’t your fault. You didn’t make him drink. Or drive.”

  “I should have had more patience.”

  “It probably wouldn’t have mattered.” Suddenly, Nate was the one giving advice. “My mom told me my dad and other addicts have demons inside them, driving what they do. Nobody else can change them—they have to want to make a difference for themselves.”

  “Your mom is a wise woman.”

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  Startled, Wyatt met his eyes. “Very much.”

  “I mean, in a romancey sort of man-woman way.”

  “Well...” He should’ve remembered kids always picked up more than you expected.

  “’Cause if you did, we could stay, right? You and my mom could be together and Amber and I could live here with you. We would be part of the Marshall family.”

  “Nate.” Wyatt sat down beside him. “I care about your mom. A lot. But she’s coming out of a tough situation, and she deserves time to decide what she wants. Who she is, where she’s going. Your dad hasn’t given her much of a chance to do that.”

  “I don’t know...” Nate frowned as he thought. “I mean, when he was drunk, things would be bad. But when he wasn’t around, my mom was always in a good mood. We didn’t have much money, but she kept coming up with fun things for us to do—stuff we could learn about, places we could go for the day or the afternoon to explore and play. She says we’re the most
important part of her life. Her job, she says, is to help us grow up and she wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.” He shrugged his thin shoulders. “Sounds to me like she’s made her choice.”

  “Yes.” Susannah was a strong and determined woman. He’d seen that from the beginning. “But—”

  “It’s okay. I get it. It’s one thing to have kids around the place for the summer. It’s something else to sign on for life.” Standing up, Nate started for the door.

  Wyatt got to his feet. “I’m sure it’s hard to understand. But you and Amber are not the problem.”

  The boy stopped and turned around. “What else could it be? All you have to do is watch the way my mom looks at you to see how she feels. But because you’re being all noble, she has to plan to do everything all by herself, like that will somehow make up for my dad’s mistakes. She’d be better off—happier—here, with you. If you believe anything else, you’re the one who doesn’t understand.”

  Wyatt remained where he was as Nate left the tack room. Before he could define his thoughts, let alone his feelings, Dylan came through the door, a couple of halters in hand.

  “I guess he told you,” he said. When Wyatt glared at him, he shrugged. “I came to put these up and couldn’t help hearing. Sorry.”

  “This—”

  “Is none of my business,” his brother agreed. “Although I’ve been trying to figure out why you’d want to torpedo your chance for happiness. I guess I understand a little better now.”

  “What exactly do you understand?”

  “You believe you’re to blame for Dad dying.”

  After a pause, Wyatt said, “I should have stopped him.”

  “You tried.”

  Another pause, while Wyatt took that in. “How do you know?”

  “I heard you arguing. Ford and Garrett were snoring, but I was awake. And I got up.”

  “You saw?”

  Dylan nodded. “He wanted to go out. You tried to stop him and he hit you, but you held on, till he took you down to the floor and punched you again. Hard. He left while you were still down.”