[Lonestar 01] - Lonestar Sanctuary

by Colleen Coble

  Staring into his face, she searched his gaze until he lifted a brow in question. "Anything wrong?" he asked.

  "No, no, nothing," she said hastily.

  But how did one ever know what was in the heart of another person? She had to trust that Jon had known him well and said she could rely on Rick. Sometimes you just had to trust.

  Trust came hard to Allie anymore. When had that happened? She remembered her younger years, when she believed the best about everyone. Maybe she'd seen too much, lived through too much heartache to think there might not be secrets behind Rick's smile.

  Today she would choose to trust though. Trust that God had led her to the right place for help, even when she didn't quite understand the method.

  15

  THE LANDSCAPE CHANGED FROM EMPTY DESERT TO SIGNS OF HABITATION as the truck neared the city limits of El Paso. Mr. Fleming had said not to come to the funeral, but Allie couldn't sit at the ranch while her best friend was laid to rest. Her beater truck would never make the six-hour trip each way to El Paso, and Rick wanted to take her anyway, so she'd agreed to let him.

  She'd passed the drive dozing with her head against the window until about an hour ago. It was better than trying to make conversation when her heart felt as barren as the landscape at the ordeal ahead of her. She'd attended too many funerals the past two years.

  Yo was Allie's last link with her old life. Everyone she loved except Betsy was gone now. It wasn't fair. If she'd done something wrong, why did her family have to suffer? She wished she knew what caused the man to fixate on her.

  She dug her nail polish out and carefully applied a fresh coat of hot pink.

  "Whew, that stuff stinks," Rick said, wrinkling his nose. "Why do you wear it anyway? It doesn't stay on long."

  Allie held out a finished hand. "You don't think it looks pretty?"

  "It looks fake."

  Allie capped the polish and blew on her nails. "Nice nails are the difference between a lady and a woman."

  "Who told you that? You're a lady no matter what."

  "My mother."

  Rick grunted, then shuffled some papers on his lap. "You awake enough to help me navigate?"

  "Yes."Allie stretched and looked down at Betsy. "She's still asleep though."

  "Can you help me look for the street?You're more familiar with El Paso than me."

  Allie nodded and turned to look out the window. "The funeral home is about five lights or so in.You'll turn right, so get in the right-hand lane."

  The familiar streets looked alien and dangerous. She'd gotten used to open land and blue skies. It would be hard to ever move back to the city again.

  "You doing okay?"

  She turned her head to glance at him. "It's going to be a hard day. Yo was the only Fleming kid."

  "I still wish you wouldn't go. It's not safe."

  She hunched her shoulders and ran her hand over the soft velour of the seat. "It's not safe at the ranch. Nowhere is really safe."

  His eyes narrowed. "I won't leave your side. And I'll keep hold of Betsy every minute."

  She nodded and turned to look back out the window. They passed Cowtown Boots, and nostalgia swept over her.Yo had bought Allie's boots there just three months ago. They'd mugged it up as they tried on every outlandish pair they saw before settling on something practical.

  How could that bright spirit be dead?

  Allie reminded herself that Yo wasn't really dead. She'd gone on to a better place. They would be together again someday.

  But right now she felt like someone had ripped her heart out.

  "Turn here," she said.

  Rick slowed the truck and turned at the light. A few intersections later, she pointed out the funeral home, and he parked in the lot.

  "I'll carry Betsy," he said. Rick unbuckled the little girl's seat belt and lifted her in his arms.

  Allie's hand stayed on the door lever. All she'd done for the past year was stand by the caskets of those she loved.

  "You coming?"

  "Yes." She pushed open the door and got out, but she might as well have been slogging through knee-high mud.Yo's parents waited inside that building, and she would be expected to offer comfort when she had none.

  Rick took her elbow and guided her toward the door. The strength of his fingers was a support she badly needed. He held open the door, and she walked into the crowd milling around the reception hall. A young woman pointed her in the right direction when she asked for the Fleming funeral.

  Mr. Fleming spotted her first. His girth strained the buttons of his blue suit. The big lapels looked out-of-date, and Allie wondered if it was the suit he'd worn to his wedding thirty years ago. His kinky black hair was shorter than she'd ever seen it, and the dark face under it had developed new lines.

  He enveloped her in a hug. "Told you not to come, girl."

  Tears welled at the sorrow in his voice. "I had to say good-bye."

  His beefy hands patted her shoulder. "Who's the Paul Bunyan type with Betsy?"

  "Oh, I need to introduce you."Allie glanced around and gestured to Rick, who stood a few feet off as if to give her some time alone with the family.

  He joined her with Betsy still in his arms. The little girl was awake now, but she clung to Rick like he was her port in the storm. Allie knew the feeling.

  "Mr. Fleming, this is m-my husband, Rick Bailey."

  The older man's smile seemed to freeze in place. He looked Rick over carefully. "My Yo, did she know of this?" Suspicion coated his words.

  "I told her the last time we talked what I planned."

  Mr. Fleming and Rick locked gazes, thenYolanda's father nodded. "You take good care of these girls, Mr. Bailey."

  Rick shifted Betsy to his other arm. "I intend to."

  THE WEEKEND HAD FILLED RICK WITH A STRANGE SENSE OF CONTENTMENT. Attending church with Allie and the kids beside him just like a real family, going bird-watching, watching Allie paint her nails and Betsy's tiny half moons with color. Rick could get used to this.

  There had been no more incidents, though Rick watched over the ranch and every person there with a sharp gaze.

  The home study on Monday had been a breeze. A form to fill out, a few perfunctory questions, and the woman had smiled and left. Rick didn't anticipate any problems. Everyone in town knew him and his commitment to working with kids.

  He and Emilio talked out how to handle the kids with Elijah gone. Rick took over the group talk sessions and found them just like his studies had told him sometimes frustrating and sometimes rewarding.

  Tuesday morning he and Charlie stood at the corral fence and evaluated the condition of the horses. Three of them had been rescued within the last three months, and the latest one, which they'd all come to call Betsy's mare, was showing signs of lethargy not a good thing when she'd been so perky.

  "We can't lose her," he told Charlie. "Betsy would be devastated. Did you call Grady?"

  "He's out of town. His assistant is going to come take a look at her this afternoon." Charlie popped a Hershey's kiss in his mouth from a bag he'd nearly emptied in the last fifteen minutes. "We got company."

  Rick turned to see a Ford sedan approaching the house. The sedate blue color and tinted windows made his muscles tense, and somehow he knew before the two men stepped out in their navy suits and neat ties that the FBI had found Allie.

  "I'll handle this," he told Charlie. "Don't say anything" He strode over to intercept the men who were approaching the porch. "I'm Rick Bailey, the ranch foreman," he said, sticking out his hand.

  The closest man shook his hand, then pulled out a badge and flashed it. "FBI. We're looking for Allie Siders."

  "No one here by that name." It wasn't exactly a lie. Her name was Allie Bailey now. Rick wanted to head them off long enough for the adoption to take place. "Just me and my wife live here, along with some kids in the foster system who are here temporarily."

  The expressionless men didn't move away. "We know she's here," the leader said. "You might h
ave married her, but we still need to talk to her."

  He should have known they would know about the marriage. The feds always had their ducks in a row. "Look, she had nothing to do with the illegal aliens. She reported what she saw, that's all."

  "Actually, we already know that," the guy said. "We're not here to arrest her. And her in-laws have dropped the kidnapping charge now that they know where she is. They'll be along to sort that issue out shortly."

  Rick winced. Trouble was coming. "Then what do you want?"

  The man nodded toward the door. "To talk to your wife."

  The screen door opened behind him, and Allie stepped out. "I heard my name. Are you looking for me?"

  "You're Allie Siders?"

  "Yes -4 mean no. It's Allie Bailey now." The door closed behind her, and she moved to stand beside Rick. She leaned against him slightly to steady herself. "You're cops?"

  "FBI, ma'am. I'm Agent Marshall." He pointed to a blond guy with a crew cut. "Agent Baker. We'd like to talk to you."

  Allie took a step back, her shoulders wilting and her head coming up in a defensive posture. "I didn't do anything"

  "We know, ma'am. The investigation has turned away from you since Yolanda Fleming's murder in light of this." He handed her a paper. "This was in Ms. Fleming's car, under the seat."

  She took it, her pink polish garish against the envelope. It had her name scrawled across it in bold letters.

  "You want me to read it first?" he asked when her gaze touched his face.

  She shook her head. "What is it?" she asked.

  "A letter from the killer."

  The envelope wasn't sealed. Allie lifted the flap and pulled out the single sheet of paper.

  Rick craned his neck over her shoulder and read the words on the paper.

  Doesn't Yolanda look lovely in her casket? But you'll look better.

  Allic crumpled the letter in her hand. "He's not going to get away with this," she said. "I'm going to make sure he pays for what he did toYo." Her voice shook with passion.

  "So who hates you?"Agent Marshall asked. "What we want to know is who would want to make you look guilty of trafficking? If we can get some direction on that, we might be able to find the mastermind. Whoever it was tried to make you look like you were involved, but we followed the money trail and your spending habits, and it's clear it was a frame-up."

  "But what about Yolanda?" Rick put in. "Was she involved in some way?"

  "She seems to have been killed purely to hurt Allie."

  Allic clasped her arms around herself. "They accomplished that." She told them about the man who claimed to have killed her family.

  "You didn't recognize his voice? Nothing was familiar?" Agent Marshall asked.

  "Everyone has asked her that, including me," Rick put in. "And the guy has found her here." He told the agents about the break-in the other night.

  "Do you still have the letter?"

  "Yes, it's in the office." Rick motioned for them to follow him, and he took them past the living room where Fern and Betsy were playing school. He unlocked the office door and stepped to the desk. He opened the drawer. "That's odd. I left it here." He rummaged through the stacks of papers and bills. "It's gone," he said.

  Someone had stolen it. Rick distinctly remembered putting it in the desk drawer. He'd locked the room behind him, and only he and Allie had a key. His gaze tangled with hers, and she looked away. Had she taken it?

  "Allie, you have any idea what happened to the letter?" he asked. He didn't want to believe she might have taken it, that she might not want a closer inspection of the letter.

  She looked up and shook her head. "I haven't seen it since I gave it to you."

  "Can you write down what it said?"Agent Baker asked.

  "There wasn't much to it," Rick said, grabbing a blank sheet of paper. "It was typewritten and read, `I've found you. Tag, I'm it. Your worst nightmare."'

  "Could it have been someone other than the man who killed Ms. Fleming? Maybe someone who knew you were running and thought to tease you?"Agent Baker asked.

  "I don't think so,"Allie said, shaking her head. "I'd even wondered if one of the teens did it as a joke, but I don't think that's it. I can't explain, but the feel of the words, the way he put them together, sounds like him. I don't believe it's a copycat."

  The man handed Rick a card. "If you find it, give us a call." Agent Marshall smiled and went toward the door. The men exited the room.

  Rick rummaged around the desk again. "I can't believe this. No one has a key to the office but you and me."

  "You suspected me at first, didn't you?"Allie's gaze held steady.

  "For a second," he admitted.

  "Where's the trust, Rick?" She lifted her hand and flashed the gold ring his way. "Before you put this on my finger, don't you think you should have made sure you believed what I was telling you?"

  "The marriage wasn't about you. It was about Jon."

  She flinched. "Jon's not here, and I'm the one who has to see the suspicion in your face."

  "Fair enough." He'd hurt her, and the thought pained him. More than he wanted to admit. He should tell her that the Siderses had tracked her down too, but he didn't want to see more discouragement in those blue eyes.

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS ALLIE FOUND HERSELF CLEANING AN ALREADY SPOTless bathroom and dusting shining furniture with a lemony wax so she didn't have to think about Yo's death. If the guy thought he'd make her run again, he was wrong. She'd see him brought to justice no matter what it took.

  Today she wasn't going to think about it. Rick was taking her and Betsy out to see his bluebird trail. The grassy meadow stretched out under the big sky, brushing the Rio Grande on one side and an escarpment that rose sharply on the other. They rode side by side, Rick and Betsy on Gunner and Allie on Jackson, a six-year-old Appaloosa that she'd been riding since her arrival.

  A small cabin sat on the other end of the meadow. "Who lives there?" Allie asked.

  "Our former housekeeper, Rosa Garcia. She'd be the one to ask about your mom, but she's visiting her sister right now. She should be back in another few days."

  Allie followed Rick as he led the way toward the first birdhouse. Another was planted a few feet away.

  "This is called a bluebird trail," Rick told Betsy. They dismounted and tied off the horses at a bar, then Rick lifted Betsy onto his shoulders. "Bluebirds like open, grassy areas. We can't put their houses by the feedlot because there are so many sparrows there eating the grain, and they'd steal the houses from the bluebirds." He hefted her higher and approached the nest. "Look inside, Bets. Are there any eggs?"

  Allie stepped between them and the pole. "There might be lice."

  "Get a grip," Rick said under his breath. "She's fine."

  "She's going to get dirty poking around up there. And one of the birds might attack if she's messing with the nest." Allie shuddered at the thought.

  An exasperated huff escaped Rick's mouth. "Look, just be quiet and let me try this, okay? Just let me handle this."

  Why didn't he get a mother's concern? "I don't understand. She can watch the birds from down here."

  He stared at her without saying another word until she shrugged, and against her better judgment, moved out of the way. She'd about had it with his interference.

  He moved closer to the birdhouse. "See any eggs, Bets?"

  Betsy peered into the birdhouse. A tiny squeak of excitement came from her throat. Allie's eyes widened, and she and Rick locked gazes. She gave him a tiny nod. Maybe the bluebirds would be a way of getting Betsy to talk.

  "How many do you see?" he asked.

  Allie forgot to breathe when Betsy opened her mouth. Then her daughter's lips clamped shut again, and she held up three fingers.

  "Three, huh? It's called a clutch of eggs. What color are they?" Rick persisted.

  Betsy exhaled through parted lips. Allie could almost hear the words wanting to escape, but Betsy ducked her head and didn't reply.

  "Are they blu
e?" Rick asked gently. Betsy nodded. "We have to watch them until they hatch and make sure they're doing okay. When the babies get to be about twelve days old, we'll quit bothering them. We don't want them to get scared and try to fly away too soon."

  The meadow stretched out over the hills in all directions. It felt peaceful here, and Allie wished she could let her guard down. It wasn't safe though, not with that man lurking about. He might even now be watching her.

  Rick had brought a nightstick with him, and she had no doubt he knew how to use it. She would need every bit of his protection.

  "Check this box, Betsy," Rick said, walking to the nearby birdhouse. "Any blue eggs in there?"

  An iridescent green bird flew from the box. Betsy peered inside and shook her head.

  "It's a tree swallow. They like the same type of home as the bluebird, so we put a house up for them. That way they don't take it away from the bluebird. The tree swallow is a protected species too." Rick lifted Betsy from his shoulders and put her on the grass. "Let's sit and rest awhile. I think your mom brought lunch for us."

  Allie went to her horse and got the sandwiches and blanket out of her saddlebag. She spread out the red-and-white checked blanket, and Rick helped her put out the food and bottles of water. They ate in silence as they watched the bluebirds flutter around the pasture. The sun beat down, and she adjusted her hat to block out the glare. She felt relaxed for the first time in days.

  Rick lay back with his hands behind his head. "Bets, did you know your daddy could make the most piercing whistle through his teeth? It was enough to break your eardrums."

  Betsy giggled, and Allie could have kissed Rick for trying to help keep Jon's memory alive. "Pick me some flowers, Betsy," she said, glancing around at the bright display of bluebonnets and some yellow wildflowers. A roadrunner darted from one rock to another, then ran to the blue ribbon of water. Fragrance filled the air wildflowers, sage, creosote, and river. She could live here forever.

  Betsy smiled and got up from the blanket. She began to pick the three-foot stalks of bluebonnet, but before she got very far, the bluebirds grabbed her attention, and she sat down to watch them.

  Allie turned her attention back to Rick. "The adoption hearing is in a couple of days. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"