[Lonestar 01] - Lonestar Sanctuary

by Colleen Coble

  A Hispanic man who looked like he was in his fifties was kicking at the dog and screaming in Spanish. He seemed oblivious to Rick's approach.

  Diablo!"the man shouted. "Ferro diablo."

  Devil dog. Jem was anything but that. Rick grinned when he realized the guy wasn't armed. He called the dog, and Jem trotted over to sit at Rick's feet.

  "Who are you?" he asked the man.

  The guy spread his hands out. "No Engless," he said in a heavily accented voice.

  Rick switched to Spanish and asked the question again. The man told him he was heading to Mexico to take money to his mother. He was quick to pull out his card to prove he was legal.

  It was only after Rick let him go and returned to the ranch that he realized the guy didn't have anything shiny on his person. So where had the glint come from?

  21

  WHILE RICK WAS CHECKING OUT THE HILLS, ALLIE PULLED BETSY ONTO her lap and smoothed her curls. "I'm so glad to hear your voice, sweetheart. I've missed it so much." Her own voice was choked, and she swallowed to regain control. She didn't want Betsy to feel bad. "Now when you play with Courtney, you can talk to her too."

  Her eyes bright, Betsy smiled. Pride shone out all over her.

  Rick had performed a miracle here. Allie still couldn't believe it, but the big guy had gotten through Betsy's defenses. And the horse helped too, of course. The ranch had worked its magic.

  Betsy looked over Allie's shoulder. "Grammy and Grandpa." She pointed.

  Allie turned to see the familiar car rumbling along the bumps toward them. Careful to hide her displeasure, she let Betsy stand, then groaned as she got to her feet to greet the Siderses.

  Erika got out, smoothed her skirt, then started toward the corral. Hugh followed. Her gaze traveled from Allie's head to her jeans, and she grimaced. Then a pleasant smile dropped into view as if she changed masks. "Allie, my dear, should you be out of bed?"

  Allie wanted to brush any dust from her clothing and hair, but she wasn't going to give Erika the satisfaction of knowing she felt selfconscious. "I'm fine. I'm about to teach the kids how to barrel race."

  "I hope you're not letting Betsy participate in something so dangerous."

  "Not yet,"Allie said. "But she'll learn when she's ready."

  A disagreeable expression twisted Erika's mouth, and she started to answer, then snapped her lips shut. When her smile returned, it looked forced. "We thought we might take you to lunch."

  "It's only ten o'clock,"Allie said.

  "We can visit until then," Hugh said. "You need us to help out with anything?"

  Like they were dressed for ranch work. Hugh's black suit was already picking up dust.

  "No, we're fine," Allie said. What was she going to do with them for two hours? Her gaze settled on Betsy's head. "I've got good news Betsy is talking again!"

  She expected them to be overjoyed, but instead suspicion narrowed their eyes. They glanced from her to Betsy.

  "Is this a scam?" Hugh demanded.

  Allie rolled her eyes. "Betsy, say hello to Grammy and Grandpa."

  Betsy didn't look up, but she shook her head.

  "You're just trying to bolster your position with the court," Erika said. "You think if you can say Betsy is talking again, you won't look so incompetent. What do you take us for, Allie? The judge won't be taken in either."

  "No, she won't. She'll see right through the two of you,"Allie shot back before she could bite her tongue.

  Hugh's face reddened. "I should have known you wouldn't accept an olive branch. Erika, get in the car." He stomped back toward the car.

  Erika opened her mouth, then closed it again and followed her husband.

  Allie ran her hand over her daughter's curls. "Why wouldn't you talk to Grammy?"

  "She doesn't like me," Betsy said.

  "Of course she does, sweetheart. She loves you."

  Betsy shook her head, her chin taking on a stubborn jut. "She yells."

  "That's just her way. Everyone loves you, Bets."

  Betsy smiled up at her, and Allie felt a fresh burst of joy. Her soul had been so hungry for communion with her child. It was one thing to talk to Betsy and know she heard, but another thing for her to listen to her daughter's sweet voice answering back. She wasn't sure how she'd survived the silence this past year.

  Rick came back down from the hills. "Just someone walking," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

  But Allie saw how Rick kept glancing back toward the hills. She sensed his worry. Setting her focus on the kids, she decided she wasn't going to think about it. The kids were depending on her to have a fun day, and she was not going to let anything mess it up, not Jon's parents, and not some wanderer.

  She went to the corral and joined the kids. "The most important thing about barrel racing is the connection between you and your horse. You've all been here long enough to figure out which horse is your favorite," she told the kids. "A good horse can go for fifty thousand dollars or more, so the horse means everything. None of these horses have been trained yet, but that doesn't mean they can't learn what you want and expect. All of you go get the horse of your choice."

  She and Rick watched as the teenagers glanced at one another, then trotted off to take charge of a horse. Latoya grabbed Moonbeam's reins, and Fern gave a longing glance at Cupcake.

  "You can ride her, Fern. It's been nearly a month, and she's doing good," Rick said.

  The girl's smile beamed out, and she went to the mare. The boys chose Winston and Rebel. They all looked half-scared as Rick rolled barrels from the garage into the corral.

  "Okay, the object is to go around the barrels in a cloverleaf pattern and to do it without knocking over any of the barrels. The winner is the one who takes the least time. Let me show you." Her muscles complaining, Allie mounted Jackson.

  This was going to be hard with the way her body ached, but the exercise would be good for that. The gelding's hard muscles moved under her legs. She patted his sleek neck. "It's hard for the horse if you come at the barrel straight on," she said, urging her horse to a trot. "I'm going to go slow at first and show you the angles."

  Jackson responded to the pressure of her knees on his sides and the reins on his neck. The gelding went around the barrel completely, then turned to cross to the other barrel. With his body tipping to the right, Allie felt the saddle give a little. She tried to adjust her position when she felt it give a little more.

  What was wrong with the thing? Shifting her weight, she felt it give again.

  Then it was sliding down the horse's belly.

  She kicked her left foot free of the stirrup and tried to do the same with the right as she vaulted away from the horse, but her boot caught. Tugging on it, she slid down the horse's belly with the saddle. Dangling by her right foot, her back slammed into the dirt.

  Allie tasted dust.

  She tried to reach up and grab the reins, but Jackson went wild, racing over the hard ground with his hooves hitting dangerously near her head. Those wicked hooves flung pebbles and rocks up into her face, and one narrowly missed her left eye.

  She flinched and twisted her foot in the stirrup, but it still refused to budge. Everything moved so fast, she barely felt the rocks and twigs dig into her back. She flailed again, trying to reach up to disentangle her boot, but it was impossible.

  She became aware of Rick shouting. His voice sounded close, but all she could see was the ground quickly racing past her gaze. Then the landscape's passage began to slow, and finally she was lying stunned beneath Jackson's hooves while the sweat dripped from his neck onto her face.

  She felt gentle hands release her foot, then Rick touched her face.

  "Are you all right?"

  She blinked and tried to rise up, then groaned as her already sore muscles protested at the new indignities. "I think I'm alive."

  "Thank God." He ran his hands over her limbs. "I don't think anything is broken. Can you stand?"

  "Let me try." She really just wanted to lie ther
e until she caught her breath, but Betsy would be worried.

  He slipped his arm under her shoulders and helped her sit up. Her head spun, and pain stabbed at her neck, but with his help, she managed to get up.

  "What happened?" he murmured in her ear as he helped her toward the house.

  "I don't know. The saddle just slid. Who saddled him?"

  "I did. The cinch was tight." He got her to the fence. "Here, sit down while I take a look at the saddle."

  Hanging on to his arm, she bit back a groan as she lowered herself to a rock. The teenagers flocked around her with big, worried eyes. "I'm fine," she assured them. "Come here, Bets," she told her daughter. Betsy huddled at her feet and laid her head against Allie's leg.

  "Dude, barrel racing ain't for sissies," Devon said. "That was awesome to watch."

  "I thought you were toast," Leon said.

  "Me too," Latoya said. She knelt beside Allie. "You need some water or something?"

  "That would be good,"Allie said. "I've got dust in my mouth. How about you all go inside while I wait for Rick? You could fix me some tea. There are cookies in the tin on top of the fridge."

  "You're sure you're okay?" Latoya asked.

  "Fine." Allie managed a smile. It was all she could do to tear her gaze away from Rick. From his clenched fists and tight jaw, she figured he'd found something ominous. "Go with Fern, Bets."

  Betsy got up with a show of reluctance but took Fern's hand, and the kids all went toward the house.

  Rick came toward her with the saddle in his hands. He tossed it at her feet. "Someone cut the cinch ring with snips," he said. He showed her the sharp, cut edges.

  Allic didn't often cry. Tears were a weakness she didn't like to show, but her eyes burned with the need for release. "I'm so tired of this," she choked out. "If he would just show himself, or tell me why he hates me. I don't understand."

  Rick went to his knees beside her and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "We'll find him. Somehow we'll stop him. I'll go see the border patrol. I meant to go before now."

  The border patrol. Big deal. They weren't going to help her. "But what does that have to do with me?"

  "I don't know, but it's the only place I have to look. I still wonder about the illegal alien thing. There was a lot of money run through your account. Whoever this guy is, he's got money to burn, and he had to earn it somehow. You want to go with me?"

  She shook her head. "Maybe Betsy and I will go see Dolly." She wanted to forget the problems, to laugh and pretend everything was normal for just a little while.

  "Okay." He rose and held out his hand. "Can you walk to the house?"

  "I think so." She accepted his hand and struggled to her feet. Her legs felt shaky, and she leaned against his chest.

  The thump of his heart's steady rhythm under her ear was as comforting as a hot water bottle to a puppy. His arms came around her, and without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his waist. The way his pulse accelerated made her look up to find him staring down at her.

  She told herself to move, but she didn't want to. Lost in the vast blueness of his gaze, she clung to him.

  Then his head came down, and his lips brushed hers. She inhaled his breath, the scent of his skin, and the response it brought in her caught her off guard. When he would have pulled away, she kissed him back and tightened her hold on him. She could sense his start of surprise, but then he pulled her tighter and kissed her until she was breathless.

  Allie wanted to lose herself in his kiss, to forget the danger that threatened, to find a new path to walk with this husband she barely knew. To live when it seemed as though her life might soon be over.

  Her knees trembled, and she would have sagged to the ground except for his strong arms supporting her. When his lips left hers, she felt abandoned, bereft. With reluctance, she opened her eyes again and gazed up into his face. His eyes blazed with a passion she hadn't seen in a man's face in too long.

  Did they dare have a real marriage? Staring into her husband's face, Allie thought she might risk it.

  SOME PROTECTOR HE WAS. RICK TUCKED BETSY INTO BED, THEN CAME downstairs and watched his wife's face in the glow of lamplight as the group played Yahtzee after dinner. Someone had tried to hurt her twice now, and he'd had to stand back and watch it happen.

  It was hard to fight a phantom. He'd called Brendan several times, but his friend hadn't turned up anything yet on Mark Haskell or Ted Rediger. Too busy, he said. Tomorrow, when Rick went to Alpine, he'd stop at the library and use the computer to see what he could find out on his own.

  Remembering the way she'd kissed him today heated his blood. He was falling for her in a big way, and it was enough to make him want to run. What if he failed her? He hadn't done good by her so far. The responsibility made him lick his lips and look toward the wine cabinet.

  Elijah had always refused to get rid of the liquor. He said Rick would never conquer the need if he wasn't faced with making the right choice every day, but Rick wasn't sure he agreed with that. It would be so much easier to have temptation out of the way.

  Elijah was gone now. There was no reason to leave the stuff there. He could clean out that cabinet once and for all. Pour the liquor down the sink and smash the bottles. Tonight, after everyone was in bed, he'd do just that.

  His gaze went back to Allie's face. Battered and bruised though she looked, she was a temptation he didn't think he could resist much longer.

  The thought of it was driving him crazy. He stood and stretched. "I think I'll go to town for an ice-cream sundae. Want to come, Allie?"

  "Sure. I'm getting stiff sitting here,"Allie said. "I need to walk some of the pain out of my muscles." She held her hand up for him to haul her up. She winced as she maneuvered out of the chair. "I can't sit here much longer or I won't be able to move tomorrow." She put her hand on his arm and stared up at him with an appeal in her eyes.

  When had his willingness to love begun to turn into the real thing? He'd tried Grady's advice, and by golly, the guy had been right. Love was about the action of loving. What a weird truth to discover.

  He hadn't even been attracted to her when she'd first come here, and now his pulse soared like a bald eagle when he caught a whiff of her shampoo.

  "Keep an ear out for Betsy,"Allie told Fern, who nodded.

  They went toward the door, Allie limping a little. He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, then grabbed a sweater from a hook by the door as they went past and slipped it around her. The soft glance of gratitude in her eyes made his palms grow sweaty.

  They stepped out into the dark night, illuminated only by the stars. Only a sliver of moon showed. The night air was rich with the scents of the ranch: sage, creosote, hay, and a hint of horse on the wind blowing past the barn.

  He helped Allie down the steps. "I'll bring the truck around. Wait here by the porch." He jogged to the vehicle and drove to the base of the steps. She slipped into the cab before he had a chance to get out and help her.

  "I finished my paperwork for our next counseling session," she said once they'd started to town. "How are you coming?"

  "Haven't had a chance." He knew his voice was a little sharp when he saw her flinch.

  There was no answer from her at first. "Is is there something you're not wanting to tell me?" she asked finally. "I hope you know whatever it is, it can't be any worse than the mess I've made of my life."

  Tell her. The prompting dried his mouth. No way could he spill it. Not when they were just starting to get into a comfortable relationship.

  "Nothing important," he said. "We'll get to know one another better every day."

  Allie nodded. "I still can't believe Bets is talking. I guess you were right after all." She turned and looked out into the dark night. "Maybe I was babying her too much."

  The tension drained from his neck and shoulders at the passing of the dangerous topic. "No maybe about it."

  She stiffened. "I want you to quit tucking her into bed at night. It's ...
dangerous. She is beginning to get too attached to you."

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Kids can never have too much love, Allie.You're trying to deprive Betsy of the most important thing in life. Jon's gone. He'll never be able to pull her up on his lap or read her a story." He knew his words were harsh, but she had to understand. "Look, I loved Jon too. And I admit it took me a while to get past the thought that I was taking his place. But he's not here to fill it. I am. And I'm going to."

  "She can't forget Jon," she fired back. "I don't want anyone to take his place."

  His inclination was to let go of his temper, but he took a tighter grip on it instead. "I know you don't want her to be hurt. Neither do I. You should know that. She needs me, and so do you."

  "I think she's already forgetting," she whispered, her voice desolate.

  "Allie, she's five years old. How much do you remember from when you were five? But at least both of us loved Jon. We'll talk about him, about what a great man he was. That's better than if I were jealous of him and didn't hold him up in her eyes."

  She finally nodded, and her shoulder slumped against the door. "I guess it's inevitable."

  They reached the drugstore and stepped inside to a nearly deserted space filled with the sweet smells of chocolate, whipped cream, and butterscotch. Nothing much was said over their ice cream. Rick knew she was mulling over what he'd said. Maybe she'd finally quit challenging him on every action.

  After licking the last of his hot-fudge sundae from the spoon, he paid the bill and held the door open for her. A warm breeze blew across his face, and he inhaled the scent of the roses blooming along the tree lawn.

  A sharp report echoed against the buildings, followed by a zip past his ear. "Look out!" Something stung the side of his face. He bore her to the ground and covered her with his own body. "Someone's shooting at us."

  The night sounds of tree frogs and crickets went silent, then resumed. Rick strained to hear anything else: the footfall of someone walking their way, the harsh breath of someone running. There was nothing but the sound of the wind and the rumble of a truck passing them on the street.