Wyatt rubbed his fingers into his eyes. “You were just a little kid.”
“Old enough to understand that what happened was not your fault. So you can stop punishing yourself. If I’d realized you were taking the blame, I would have said something years ago.”
“Sometimes things don’t get said.”
“A bad habit of yours.” Dylan clapped him on the shoulder. “So at this point maybe you could allow yourself the possibility of a future you want. Not just the future you got stuck with.”
Before his brother left the room, Wyatt said, “Do Ford and Garrett know?”
“I told them the next day. There were bruises on your face to explain. But then he was dead and nobody wanted to talk about it...” He took a deep breath. “It was twenty years ago. Let’s move on.”
Great idea...
Wyatt followed his brother through the barn, thinking about Susannah’s job, her apartment in Casper, a new school for Nate and dance lessons for Amber.
Unless it’s already too late.
* * *
SINCE THEY’D BEEN to the rodeo on Saturday, Becky and the others had housekeeping to do on Sunday afternoon—the last time they would have to wash their sheets and clean their bathrooms. Lizzie complained through the whole ordeal, as she had every week.
“I hate cleaning.” She flipped a dust rag across the coffee table in the living room. “If they’d said I would have to clean, I wouldn’t have shown up for this dumb camp.”
“It’s not dumb,” Becky protested. “You liked riding in the rodeo. You like trail rides on Major.” She plugged in the vacuum cleaner. “And we’re having a dance.”
“The first decent thing we’ve done all summer.”
Shaking her head, Becky turned on the vacuum. Lizzie swiped at the tables beside the couch and the armchair, and then she went to stand in front of the window. When she didn’t move for several minutes, Becky switched off the noise. “What’s going on?”
“The deputy is here again.”
Becky joined her at the window. Mr. Wyatt, Mr. Ford and Ms. Susannah stood on the front porch talking to a man wearing a uniform. “I guess this is about the horses being loose.”
“Can you believe Nate’s dad did that? What a loser.” Lizzie giggled. “That explains why Nate is such a loser.”
“Nate is not a loser!” Becky clenched her hands into fists. “Don’t say that.”
“Compared to Thomas and Marcos, he’s pretty lame.”
“Why? Because he doesn’t agree that beating somebody up is the way to win an argument?”
“Let’s see.” Tapping her temple, Lizzie pretended to think. “Marcos and Thomas—bull riding, where they could get killed. Nate—pole bending, where his competition is all girls. Sounds pretty wimpy to me.”
“That’s harsh,” Lena said from the kitchen area where she was straightening up the supplies she used to take medicine for diabetes. “He’s just a nice guy. Quiet.”
“Like Justino says so much.” Lizzie was still staring out the window, though nothing had changed. “He’s worse than Nate.”
Lena stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Are you saying Justino is a wimp?”
Lizzie’s only answer was to shrug one shoulder.
“What is your problem?” Becky whirled to stare at her. “Do you want to make us all mad? Why? You didn’t used to be so mean. What in hell are you trying to do?”
Lizzie stood there for a minute with that superior expression, the one she’d been wearing for the last few weeks while she flirted with Thomas and Marcos and Nate.
Then, suddenly, she sat down on the couch and folded up over herself, hiding her face.
“I can’t do it,” she moaned. “I can’t.”
Becky sat down beside her. “Can’t do what?”
After a pause, she said, “I can’t go home.” She pulled in a shaking breath. “They don’t want me, never have. I’m just a mistake they got stuck with.”
Lena gave a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, I’m wanted—for cleaning house and babysitting. I’d rather be ignored.” She sat down in an armchair. “It will be hard, though. Leaving. Not just because it’s been fun. People here care.”
Becky recalled the chaos of her own home, the never-ending anger. “At least we’ve seen what it can be like now. I mean, if we’d never come here, then we wouldn’t know it’s possible for people to care. Well, except on TV shows. It’s as if we’ve kinda been living in our own special story.”
Lizzie lifted her head. “But now we’ve been canceled. We have to go back to real life. And be miserable.”
“But this is real life, too.” Becky paused for a moment, thinking about what she was trying to say. “The Marshalls and Ms. Caroline, Ms. Susannah...they’re always this way. They’ll always care about people. About us. So we might not be here every day, but we can hold onto what we have here. It’s not going to change just because we happen to be someplace else.”
“Like me and Justino,” Lena said. “We’re in love even if we’re miles apart.”
“Exactly. Friends stay friends, even when they don’t see each other. Right?”
Lizzie sighed. “I guess so. It would be neat if we could come visit the ranch sometimes. Just to remember the good stuff.”
“Somebody would have to drive us,” Lena pointed out. “Unless you want to walk five miles from town. It’ll be two years before Justino gets his license.”
“Three for me,” Becky said mournfully.
Lizzie buried her head in her arms. “It sucks to be thirteen.”
With the cleaning done on Sunday, Monday was a much better day, thanks to a trail ride to a part of the ranch they’d never visited before, way up in the foothills of the mountains. Becky was pretty used to seeing eagles and hawks flying overhead on these trips, and they’d sometimes encountered deer, but this was the first time they’d come across an elk grazing on the side of a hill. Though they all tried to be quiet, when the big animal caught sight of them, it lumbered off into the trees.
They’d brought sandwiches along for lunch, thanks to Ms. Susannah, and spent the afternoon fishing in a lake bigger than any of those they’d visited so far. The fish were smarter, too, and refused to be caught, which made Thomas and Marcos sulk on the ride home.
Instead of going back the way they’d come, Mr. Ford and Mr. Dylan led them in a different direction, across some of the ranch’s wilder terrain not fit for grazing cattle. They traveled through rock-strewn gulches and underneath giant trees and across ground more gravel than grass. Lizzie seemed a little tense, but Becky loved every minute of the challenging ride.
Late in the afternoon, they came out on a stony ridge on the far side of the ranch house and the barn, which could be seen in the near distance. Heading toward a clump of trees and the promise of a break in the shade, Mr. Ford suddenly put up his hand, the signal for everybody to stop.
“Is it a snake?” Marcos asked from behind Becky. “It’s about time we came across a nice, fat rattler.”
As she drew closer to the leaders, though, she realized it wasn’t a snake. “Trash,” she said over her shoulder. “Beer bottles and wrappers and junk.” She urged her horse closer to Mr. Dylan’s. “Should we pick it up?” she asked. “There’s room in the trash bag from lunch.” Marcos groaned. “It won’t take long,” she told him.
To her surprise, Mr. Ford shook his head. “We’ll leave it just as it is. I don’t want him to know we’ve been here.” His voice had gone serious, and she took another look at the scene. It almost seemed as if someone had been camping there. Which would be trespassing, but the Marshalls didn’t seem to mind too much.
Then she gazed across at the ranch again. Sure, it was far away, but, with binoculars or a telescope, you could probably make out pretty well what was going on. You could probably watch people
coming and going...
Nate’s dad had been spying on the ranch, she suddenly understood. He’d waited until they all left, and then he’d released the horses.
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Dylan said to her in a low voice. “Now we can find him, and we’ll take care of it.”
But Becky was more worried about Nate. He’d ridden on ahead, underneath the trees on the other side of the trash, and was sitting there on his own. Did he want company?
Did she care?
Carefully avoiding the trash, she circled around to join him in the shade. Before she could say anything, he lifted a hand. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” He did look calm, not destroyed as he had the day his dad had let the horses out.
She relaxed in the saddle. “Mr. Dylan says they’ll take care of it now that they know where he’s...hiding.”
“I hope so,” Nate said. “I hope they catch him soon.” He blew out a breath. “Before he does something we’ll all be sorry for.”
Chapter Ten
Tuesday dawned hot and dry, making it the perfect day for painting T-shirts for the dance.
Susannah gathered with the teenagers, Caroline and Amber in the bunkhouse, where Thomas gave a presentation about the signs Native Americans used to decorate their horses. He’d prepared drawings of the different symbols and explained each of their meanings. The kids were going to use those characters on the oversized shirts they would be wearing to represent their horses at the dance.
“It’s kind of a crazy idea,” Caroline said to Susannah as they watched the campers planning out their designs. “But they’re having fun with it. Who would have guessed?”
“I’m still amazed at how we could order all those different colors of shirts on the internet and have them delivered right to the ranch.” Susannah shook her head. “The glow-in-the-dark fabric paints, too. There doesn’t seem to be anything you can’t get online. I guess I’ll have to figure out how to buy a computer for Nathan and Amber to use at home. It seems to be pretty much a requirement these days, even for the youngest ones. I don’t want them to fall behind, like their mother has.”
“So you’ve registered them at their new schools in Casper?”
“I went down yesterday, with Wyatt as my bodyguard.” And a very uncomfortable trip it had been. She’d have gone by herself, but he insisted on coming along, only to spend nearly the whole drive in silence. What had once been a sustaining friendship was now a source of painful longing. But she was trying to move on. “I’m hoping they’ll settle in without too much trouble.”
“I hope so, too.” Caroline lowered her voice. “Now that we know where Travis has been hiding—at least one of the places—we have a chance of catching him and making your life more secure.” Ford had gone into Buffalo to talk to the sheriff earlier this morning. The other brothers were intent on their own tasks—Garrett had his regular office hours at the church, and Wyatt and Dylan were in the barn with a sick horse.
Susannah glanced at Nathan, who sat at the far end of the table, focused on his painting. She turned her back to him, to be sure he couldn’t hear. “I hate to picture Travis in jail. But I hate to think of him sitting out there, watching us. I didn’t realize he would react with such hostility when I asked for a divorce.” A deep sigh escaped her. “And I hate that I’ve dragged others into my problems.”
“That’s what friends are for. The Marshall brothers are good friends to have.”
“Not to mention the future Mrs. Marshalls.” Susannah pretended to frown. “Or is that Mrs.-es Marshall?”
“Grammar was never my best subject. I get your point.” She enveloped Susannah in a quick hug. “The feeling is mutual.” Then she laughed. “I’m afraid Amber has forgotten which shirt she’s painting—the one on the table or the one she’s wearing.”
“Uh oh.” Susannah checked out the mess. “Um...yes. White handprints on a pink shirt. Very artistic. Also white cheeks, forehead and hair. I predict a bath in the near future.” The black shirt on the table in front of Amber had also gotten its share of sponged-on white. “That looks sort of dappled, right? She wanted her horse to be like Caesar.”
“Close enough.” They walked around the table, surveying the different projects. “I think all these shirts are fantastic.”
When they returned to Amber, the girl stood up from her chair. “I’m hungry, Mommy. What can I have to eat?”
Along the length of the table, seven heads lifted. “Me, too,” Marcos said, echoed by several other voices. “Cookies?” Lizzie said hopefully, and Lena rolled her eyes.
“I’ll see what I can come up with,” Susannah promised. She went to the door, and Amber came after her.
“Can I go with you? I want to help.”
“Okay.” She could wash Amber’s hands and face while they were at the house. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Outside, as she headed down the hill with Amber a couple of steps in front of her, Susannah glanced toward the house, and her heart stopped. Then started pounding.
Travis’s blue truck sat in the drive.
“Amber. Come here.” She kept her voice down as she scanned the yard. Where could he be?
Singing a song of her own composing, her little girl continued to skip down the hill. Susannah raised her voice. “Amber, we have to go inside. Come to me. Now.”
Finally hearing the urgency in her mother’s voice, Amber obeyed. But she asked, “Why?”
With a death grip on her sticky little hand, Susannah hurried her back toward the bunkhouse. “Because.”
“Because why?”
Without answering, Susannah glanced up toward the barn...and there he was. Standing at the door, staring inside.
Pointing a gun.
* * *
WATCHING CAESAR MUNCH a mouthful of hay, Wyatt leaned against the frame of the stall door. “He’s eating fine now.”
Dylan stood beside him, shaking his head. “But he walked away from his grain and hay at breakfast. After that tricky colic he went through this spring, I figured we ought to be careful.”
“I’m not arguing. What did he do instead of eating?”
“Stared off into the distance, as if there was something out there to be worried about. I couldn’t see what he could, of course.”
“Well, he seems fine right now. We’ll keep him inside for a while and watch him in case anything changes.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Thanks for—”
“Hey!” The shout came from the front of the barn. “That you, Marshall?”
Wyatt looked at Dylan and put up a finger for silence. Then he walked into the aisle and strolled toward the doorway. “What are you doing here, Bradley? I told you to stay off my property.”
Travis Bradley stood just outside the door. He wore the same clothes he’d had on the last time Wyatt had seen him, but they were dirty and wrinkled now, with his shirttail out and his hair a mess. His arms hung by his sides.
“Your property. Big deal.” His laugh held an edge of panic. “I’ve been on your land for weeks, and you didn’t even know it. I’ve been watching everything you and that wife of mine have done.” His words were slurred, as if he’d been drinking.
“What do you want?”
“I want my family. Where are they?”
Wyatt kept the very thought of Susannah, Nate and Amber being close by out of his mind. “Why?”
Bradley rolled his eyes. “We belong together. They’re my kids. And she’s mine, you hear? She’s my wife.”
Stalling, Wyatt propped a hip on a nearby hay bale. “You’ve been rough on them.”
“I’ll change, I told Susie I would. I just need a steady job. A man’s not worth a damn without work to do.”
“You’re right. But you have to be dependable. A boss has to be able to count on you.”
He hung his head. “I gotta stop drinking. And I will, when I have my family back.” His head came up and then his right arm, holding a pistol. “Tell me where they are.”
Wyatt didn’t move. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m serious. I’m taking them with me. Today.”
“And where are you planning to go? The sheriff is after you, Travis. You’re not going anywhere they won’t find you. Especially with two kids in tow.”
“We’re going out of state. They won’t bother finding us in Arizona. They got better things to do.”
“Maybe not.” Wyatt got to his feet. “But I will.”
Bradley narrowed his eyes. “You mean—”
“Travis?”
Wyatt winced to hear Susannah’s voice.
Bradley turned his head, but that pistol arm didn’t waver. “Hey, Susie. I’m here for you and the kids.”
She came within Wyatt’s range of sight. Alone, thank God.
“What are you doing?” Her fingers lighted on his left arm. “You’re not thinking straight.”
“I’m fine.” He lifted his free hand to her face. “Let’s find Amber and Nate and get the hell out of here. I’ve got plans for us.”
“What kind of plans?”
Smart. Keep him talking. Wyatt smothered a grin.
“Arizona, baby. There’s construction jobs down there, bosses begging for workers. No more cold weather, no more snow. Summer year-round. It’ll be great.”
“That does sound great, Travis. We can go...but you have to leave Wyatt alone.”
Bradley glanced over. “You go get the kids. I’ll deal with him.”
“They’re in the house, Travis. Come with me and we’ll put them in your truck.” She tugged at his arm. “Let’s go. Before something happens.”
“Okay, okay.” He gestured at Wyatt with the pistol. “You’re coming, too. Get out here.”
Not finding an alternative, Wyatt did as he was told, being careful not to look at Susannah.
A Family in Wyoming Page 16
