[Lonestar 01] - Lonestar Sanctuary

by Colleen Coble

  Staring into Elijah's dark eyes, Rick could smell the sharp, sting ing odor of gunpowder, the underlying stench of raw sewage in the streets, and the stink of fear. Taking a deep breath, he began to recount to Elijah the promise he'd made to Jon.

  RICK SAT ON A FOLDING CHAIR WITH A MAKESHIFT TABLE MADE FROM A cardboard box between him and his bunkmate Jon Siders. Rick glanced at the cards in his hand. A full house. Jon was toast.

  He shoved an empty Tabasco bottle to join an assortment of QTips and candy wrappers. "I'll see your dime and raise you a quarter." They'd had to improvise to play poker, but it helped the time pass.

  Jon frowned at his hand, but his gaze wandered back to the letter in his lap. All he'd done since he got it was brood.

  "Are you going to play?" Rick said, not bothering to hide his impatience.

  "I need to get home."

  "Don't we all."

  Jon frowned and threw his cards to the table. "My parents are badgering Allie again."

  "Man, just call them and tell them to lay off." It was a familiar discussion. While Rick had suffered from lack of parental care, Jon's parents had been the interfering type.

  "I've done that.You don't know my parents." Jon pushed back from the table. "I'm afraid of what they might do if I don't come back."

  If Rick had been a religious man, he would have crossed himself. "Don't give fate any ideas," he said. He wished he had a drink. A little Jack Daniels might help him bear this discussion.

  "God's got my fate in his hands." Jon smiled. "Thanks for that reminder."

  Rick shifted uncomfortably. Jon's only failing as a friend was how often he brought God into the conversation. Sometimes Rick almost expected to see the Big Guy sitting across from Jon, talking with him.

  "What are they doing now?" he asked, more to change the subject than because he was interested. He'd never met the wife and kid. He was stationed in Europe by the time Jon married her.

  "Telling her if she respects them, she'll change churches and start coming with them." Jon's eyes took on an uncharacteristically hard glint. "Over my dead body."

  "What's so wrong with that? I thought you were all about family."

  "Their church is practically a cult. At the very least it's a toxic environment. They won't even talk to people who leave it. It's all about the letter of the law and nothing about love. My parents believed mightily in the old adage `spare the rod and spoil the child.' At church they were always smiling and sweet, but at home I rarely got more than a nod of recognition. I'm not having my family exposed to that."

  The type of church Jon described was how Rick thought they all were, but he decided to keep this appraisal to himself. "Allie can just say no.

  "And she has." Jon's gaze fixed on Rick's face. "We've gone to the wall together, buddy. You're the only one I'd trust to take care of things if I don't get home."

  Death was not on Rick's agenda. Not his and not his best friend's. "Don't change the subject just because you're losing." He tapped his cards against the box. "You folding?"

  Jon grinned, but his eyes held a trace of sadness. "And let you win? Not on your life." He shoved a handful of gum wrappers into the center. "I call. Show me what you've got."

  Rick laid out his cards with a flourish. "Read 'em and weep, my friend." Even as he raked in his winnings, his thoughts danced away from Jon's words.

  RICK SHUDDERED AND CAME BACK TO THE PRESENT. ",ION TOOK A BULLET meant for me. I have to take care of his family," he told Elijah.

  "He has been gone two years, si? Why only now are you looking to help them?"

  Rick winced at the blunt words. "I could make an excuse and tell you I couldn't find her, but the truth is, I didn't look very hard. I was wallowing under a mountain of guilt and just wanted peace. So I came here." He still couldn't tell Elijah the full truth of why he would carry that guilt all his life.

  "And how did the child's death fit in with this?" Elijah asked.

  Heat swept up Rick's neck. "That was a separate incident." But interconnected more than he wanted to face. He could still see the eight-year-old's face in his mind, the wide dark eyes, the fear. Until the gun barked in his hand and obliterated the boy.

  The fact that it was an accident failed to expunge his guilt.

  Elijah nodded, his dark eyes still studying Rick's face. "I have kept quiet to let you heal, but the time for silence is past. Sweeping your guilt under the straw will only make it stink. Better to bring it to the sunshine. Is this your penance, Rick? Coming here to El Despoblado?"

  "I believe in this place just as much as you. Have you forgotten I was a throwaway kid myself once? If not for the Bluebird Ranch, I'd be in prison somewhere. The woman may not have been worthy of Jon, but she's still his wife. And I have to help her and the kid."

  "You seem to have forgotten what it means to be desperate," Elijah said softly. "Could desperation be Allie's sin? I am content that you are to help her. But do not assume too much about her guilt and shut yourself off from a true marriage with her."

  A true marriage? That was not the plan.

  THE AROMA OF ENCHILADAS FILLED THE KITCHEN WITH WARMTH. ALLIE had the teenage girls help her prepare supper. They grumbled about it, but she held firm, and they'd fallen into line. The boys went out with the ranch hands to feed and water the stock. They were all too tired to talk much during supper.

  The girls kept stealing glances at the black night devoid of streetlights. The barns' security lights provided the only illumination, and the darkness swallowed their beams only a few feet out.

  "What do you do all evening?" Latoya asked after the dishes were done. "Let's hop in the whip and see some action."

  "The whip?" Allie dried her hands.

  "Some wheels," Devin said. "I'm with the Betty. This place is whacked."

  "We've got board games," Allie said. She tried to hide her smile, but it came breaking through. "Monopoly, chess. Check out the game cabinet."

  "Video games?" Devon asked, fingering the ring on his lip.

  "They belong to Rick. You'll have to ask his permission," she said.

  Leon fixed a stare on Rick. "What games you got?"

  "Video games are a privilege. Once you earn the right to play, we'll scrounge up a game on Saturday night," Rick said.

  "Earn 'em? Oh man, you talkin' smack!"

  "You'll get points for grooming horses, feeding them, cleaning the pens. When you get enough points, you can take me on in Pac-Man."

  "Pac-Man," Leon said. "Man, don't you got no Tomb Raider or Madden football?"

  Rick shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

  "Like we got a choice," Leon grumbled.

  "Grow up," Rick said. "There are always choices in life. People are going to pull you in all directions. Where you end up is a direct result of how wise your decisions are."

  Allie wondered if he really believed that. Did he own every wrong decision he'd made? It wasn't through any decision of hers that her parents were dead and that Jon had left her to raise Betsy alone.

  Betsy rubbed her eyes, and Allie read the fatigue on her face. "Let's get you to bed, Bets. You've had a long day."

  Betsy tugged on her hand and pointed to the door.

  "You want to go tell the horse good night?" Rick asked.

  "I'll take her," Allie said when he moved toward the door. She should have guessed what Betsy wanted before Rick had.

  "I'll go with you. That cougar might still be prowling around."

  Allie wanted to object, but maybe he wouldn't insist on talking in front of Betsy. She took Betsy's hand, and they stepped out into the moonlight.

  "I can't get over how black it is here when night falls," Allie said, giving Betsy's hand a comforting squeeze. The new dew on the ground smelled fresh.

  They reached the barn, and he shoved open the sliding door. Allie and Betsy went through first. Allie watched as her daughter ran to the stall holding the newest addition to the ranch. The sores on the mare's withers were crusty, and the harsh glare from the ba
re bulb overhead showed every bone through her rough coat. Rick scooped some sweet feed into a bucket and offered it to the mare. She nosed the bucket and began to eat.

  "Do they always make it?" Allie asked. The guy had some good qualities, even if she hated to admit it.

  "Not all." His gaze met hers. "We try our best, just like we do with the kids."

  "How'd you end up here, Rick?" Allie wanted to know, but she wasn't sure he'd talk about it. He seemed different tonight. More wary, and she wasn't sure why.

  He leaned on the rail and watched the mare eat. "Like most of the others. I'd been in trouble shoplifting, a stolen-car spree, fights at school. A teacher who took an interest in me heard about Elijah's ranch and talked Child Protective Services into sending me and a few other kids here. I wanted nothing to do with Elijah, but I couldn't resist a horse that he'd rescued two months before." He smiled. "Whiskers was his name, and he was five. His owner had raised him to buck in the rodeo, but he beat Whiskers to get him to do it."

  Allie winced. "The rodeo where I worked was always careful not to mistreat the animals. No rodeo boss would stand for that."

  He nodded. "The chute boss saw lacerations on Whiskers and disqualified him. The owner was going to sell him to the pet-food factory, but Elijah got wind of it and bought him instead. But Whiskers wouldn't let anyone near him. The day I arrived, he looked in my eyes, and I looked in his, and we each saw a soul mate. He wouldn't let me ride him that day, but by the time my time here was over, I was riding him all over the ranch. I came back every summer until I joined the army."

  "And then when you got out?"

  He nodded. "Elijah wrote me all ten years I was in, then offered me a job when I told him I was resigning. He needed help, and I needed a sanctuary."

  Sanctuary. The word made a warm sensation well up inside Allie. That's what she and Betsy needed -a safe haven where they could grow and put down roots. Elijah seemed all about helping other kids. Why had he never sought out Allie's mom? He'd been content to take his granddaughter and let his own daughter disappear into the underbelly of the city.

  She'd come here expecting some kind of ogre and discovered a man who cared about kids. The dichotomy between what he professed and how he'd acted with his own child left her shaking her head and wondering who was the real Elijah.

  Maybe when he found out who she really was, he'd throw her out the way he'd tossed her mother onto the street.

  8

  THE OFFICE HAD THE APPEAL OF A BEAUTIFUL SNAKE. LOVELY COLORS AND form, but inspiring the same dread in Allie as coming face-to-face with a rattlesnake. She looked forward to her time in the big, comfortable room with the tin ceiling until she looked down at the way the black marks jittered their way across the ledger page.

  The last two days had been placid, and she began to relax until she realized the work she had to do. Leaving Betsy napping on her bed, she entered the office prepared to do battle but was already mentally waving a white flag.

  She dropped into the cracked leather chair and squinted at the new stack of receipts in the tray. These files wouldn't be easy to whip into shape. The sun was too bright in here. She closed the blinds, but her eyes weren't ready to deal with this yet.

  She pulled open the lap drawer and glanced through it. Paper clips, rubber bands, a couple of erasers and mechanical pencils, a pack of gum, and a few keys. Nothing really interesting.

  Allie tried the drawer on her right and found it full of file folders. The soft gold of the manila folders made it easier to read the tabs. Glancing through them, she found them labeled with different categories of bills like electricity, food, and maintenance. The next drawer held blank envelopes and postage stamps. The top drawer on her left contained cleared check stubs and blank checks.

  She moved to the last drawer and tugged on it. It refused to budge. Maybe it was stuck. Yanking on it, she could feel the lock that held it in place. Why would Elijah have a locked drawer?

  The keys in the lap drawer. She pulled it open again and glanced at the keys. They all looked like door keys until she moved them around and found a smaller key hiding under a large one. It might fit. Fingering it, she thought about whether she had the right to invade a place Elijah obviously wanted to keep hidden.

  Maybe she didn't have the right, but she was going to take it anyway. She wanted to get at the truth behind all her mother had told her. Selena had told at least some lies. Fitting the key into the lock, she twisted it and heard it click. The drawer slid open with a gentle tug.

  Several picture albums lay in the drawer. Cracks radiated across the leather cover of the top one, and the texture was worn smooth along the opening edges. Allie lifted it out and ran her hand across it. Maybe it was a record of the kids who had passed through this place over the years.

  But if it was, why lock it up?

  She lifted the top cover and peeked at the first page. Old black-andwhite pictures with labels under them crowded the black paper. The first picture of a little girl looked a lot like Betsy. It had to be Allie's mother.

  She flipped the pages and peered into a world fifty years in the past. Her mother looked so happy and carefree sitting on the fence rail with the horses in the pasture behind her. By her late teens, the smile changed to a deadpan scowl.

  The last few pages were empty and appeared to have had pictures removed. Allie started to go to the next album when she heard the front door slam and boot heels clatter along the wooden floor. She dropped the album back into the drawer. Noiselessly sliding the drawer shut, she locked it and returned the key to its place just as Rick came through the door.

  Her face felt hot and moist, and when he stared at her for an extra beat, she wondered if guilt stamped her features. "Everything okay?" she asked.

  He had a rope in his hand, and dust streaked his face. "Peachy. The bull got out and is chasing the horses. Any chance you could help me get him? You've got a good arm."

  Pleasure surged through her at his words. Better to do something she was good at than to sit here staring at words and numbers jumping across the page. She rose and grabbed her cowboy hat. "Where is he?"

  "Back pasture." He led the way out the back door.

  The sunlight pierced her eyes, and she lowered her hat on her forehead. Squinting against the dust and glare, she saw the big bull on the other side of the fence. Tossing his head with its sharp horns, he pranced around the field, looking as mean as any she'd seen in the ring.

  "Whooee, what a brute.You ever take him to the rodeo?" she asked.

  "Nope. I wouldn't want to be responsible for him killing someone. I told Elijah we needed to get rid of him, but he won't hear of it. The old man loves Roscoe for some reason."

  "Roscoe. He seems too big and mean for a Roscoe," she said, approaching the fence.

  The bull quit his posturing and erupted into action. Dirt clods flew from under his sharp hooves as he chased the mares from corner to corner. Good thing Betsy wasn't out here to see him cornering her little mare. The poor thing barely had the strength to outrun the beast. How'd he get out anyway?

  She took the rope from Rick and started to climb over the fence.

  "No, stay on this side of the fence," he said, reaching for her arm.

  She dodged his hand and vaulted. The bull hadn't seen her yet. Looping the rope, she waited for the bovine to get closer.

  "Allie, he's dangerous!" Rick climbed the fence and came to stand beside her. "Let me get us some horses, and we'll rope him from horseback."

  She shook her head. "He's about to catch up with Betsy's mare." She twirled the loop through the air as she waited for the right moment. The bull moved a few steps closer, and she waited. Missing at this close range would be dangerous.

  "Let me get another rope then. We need to grab him from two directions so he doesn't trample you." Rick ran off toward the barn.

  Allie wasn't worried. Animals usually tried to pull away from the rope, not run toward it. The bull's head jerked toward Rick as he jogged toward the barn.
He snorted and pawed the ground, then charged toward Rick. Allie shouted a warning. Rick put on a spurt of speed and dived through the barn door, and the bull followed.

  "Oh no,"Allie whispered. She darted toward the barn as the beast erupted from the door. Skidding to a halt, she began to back away from the snorting animal. At least the bull hadn't been inside long enough to do much damage to Rick.

  The bull's head swung away from her, and she spared a glance to her right to see what had attracted its attention.

  Betsy.

  Betsy was in the paddock, walking toward the animal with flowers in her hands. She seemed oblivious to the danger.

  Allie's muscles felt rusty and slow as she tried to run toward her daughter. Time slowed as Allie saw Betsy's dark curls bounce with each step. The sunlight gleamed on the little girl's hair, and she wore a serene smile.

  "Betsy, run!" Allie had lost the loop on her rope. Coiling it again, she screamed and shouted at the bull, but the animal fixated on her daughter. Her best chance was to rope the creature before it got any closer. She'd never be able to get to Betsy before the bull did.

  The beast snorted and pawed the ground, but Betsy stood still with her eyes wide. The fear cleared from her face.

  Allie became aware of a faint humming sound and realized it was coming from her child. Whipping the rope around her head, Allie tossed it through the air toward the bull. In her agitation, her aim was off, and the loop fell to the ground.

  The animal ignored the rope and began to trot toward Betsy.

  "No!" Allie jerked the rope back toward her and began to run toward her daughter. She was too far. Her mind noticed every detail of the way Roscoe was moving, the way he tossed his horns, the way his tail switched along his back.

  Betsy looked so small and defenseless. The bull would get to her first. Allie had to try the rope again.

  She stopped and twirled the rope over her head. Please Lord, make my aim true. She barely breathed as the rope sang through the air. It didn't even touch the animal's ears as it settled over his head. She dug her boot heels into the dirt and prepared for the animal to charge away.