by Helen Conrad
She sniffed into the hankie again and Carly felt her heart going out to the woman in spite of all her determination not to be touched by her account. “What happened to him?” she asked. “Where did he go?”
Millie closed her eyes and shook her head. “Here’s the part I’m really ashamed of. Carly, he was married.” She turned and looked at Carly, her eyes begging for understanding. “At sixteen, you don’t even understand what that means. All you care about is your own selfish needs. You can’t see ahead, can’t see what you’re doing to other people.” She sighed. “I paid for that. I paid and paid and I’ll go on paying. It was a horrible thing that I did.”
Well, sure, it wasn’t very nice. But she was really taking on too much of the blame for herself. What about this older man who should have known better? A married man, for God’s sake! What was he thinking of? Did it ruin his marriage? Was he still around somewhere?
She looked at Millie and tried to edit the flow of questions down to a few pertinent ones. “But what about the man? Did he help you? Did he take some responsibility himself?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t know. He left town before the baby... Trevor... was born.”
“And you never tried to contact him?”
“No. And I never will.”
Carly let out an exasperated breath. “Oh come on, Millie. All this mea culpa stuff is all very well, but there’s a limit to how much punishment anyone is obliged to take. You’re certainly remorseful. And it’s been a lot of years under the bridge. You deserve some happiness.”
Millie laughed softly. “You sound like Phyllis. But Trevor is the one who deserves the happiness. Not me.”
Carly thought for a moment. “Does Trevor know any of this?”
Millie shook her head. “I can’t tell him. How could he understand?”
Carly smiled at her. “He loves you. He would forgive you anything.”
Millie stared at her for a moment, a flicker of hope in her eyes. But then her face hardened. “No. I can’t risk it.”
Carly studied her. “Is that why you won’t tell him who his father is, so that he won’t go looking for him and find out the whole story?”
“Exactly.”
Carly bit her lip. The kid was never supposed to know. That hardly seemed fair. But, she had to admit, letting him think Joe was his father was probably the best solution in Millie’s eyes. But it wasn’t the truth. And some day he would find that out. And if they weren’t careful, he would hate them both.
Millie had dried her eyes and was all business again, sitting up straight and looking downright unburdened to have related the entire tale and made her case so touchingly.
“So, Carly,” she said, her voice bright again. “Now that you’ve heard the whole sordid story, I hope you see why you have to stop encouraging Trevor.”
Carly didn’t see at all. “You’re never going to tell him who his father is?” she asked carefully.
“No. I don’t think he needs to know.”
That was all very neat and tidy for Millie. But where did it leave the rest of them? “I think you’re wrong, Millie. I think you’re so wrong. And I think Trevor is going to resent it more and more as he gets older.”
Millie drew in a deep breath. “You may be right. But I’ll have to take my chances.” She glared at Carly, the picture of strength where there had only moments before been a broken woman. “Won’t I?”
Joe was driving the truck up the drive as Millie was leaving from dropping Carly off. He swung down and caught up with her before she got to the house.
“What did Millie have to talk to you about?” he asked, looking down at her as they walked.
Carly looked up and wished he weren’t so darned handsome with the late afternoon sun in his eyes. “She told me all about Trevor’s father,” she said blithely.
“She what?” Joe stopped where he was, his face registering his shock.
Carly almost laughed aloud. “Not his name, if that’s what you’re worried about.” It was curious how relieved he seemed to be when he heard that. She frowned and searched his eyes. “Why? Who is he?”
Joe took a deep breath and resumed walking. “I’ve told you before these aren’t my secrets to tell.”
Carly shrugged. She hadn’t really expected to get anywhere. “She doesn’t think Trevor needs to know either and I think she’s dead wrong.”
Joe didn’t say anything. When they got to the kitchen door, he held it for her and watched her go in before him.
“Thank you, sir,” she said flippantly, turning and looking back at him. “You’re such a gentleman.”
“I try to be,” he muttered, reaching out and touching her lower lip with his finger, running it the width of her mouth before he drew it back again, his eyes smoky with some strange longing that made her breath come faster. “But sometimes it’s damn hard,” he added.
Turning on his heel, he left her standing there with a hand over her heart. “Don’t feel like the Lone Ranger,” she whispered to no one in particular.
The next day Carly got a call that surprised her.
“Hi Carly,” the voice on the line said. “It’s Shawnee Carrington. Ooops, I mean Shawnee Santiago.”
“Well hello. Back from your honeymoon already?”
“Yes, we are. We spent a couple of days in Paris and it was wonderful, but both of us are so ready to get started on some projects here, we just had to cut it short and get on home.”
“You gave up Paris for Destiny?”
“Any day, honey. Any day.” She laughed with full-throated affection for her hometown. “We’re starting a whole new horse breeding operation and we’re so excited, we have a hard time focusing on anything else. But listen, that’s not what I called to talk about.” Her voice lowered to a husky near-whisper. “There’s a rumor going around that Joe is getting mixed up in the local version of the Wild Mustang movement. You know that David and most of our Carrington family are dead set against going outside the law to do this. There are ways to get things done without risking jail time, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh.” Carly closed her eyes. This was exactly what she’d been worried about. Somehow, she’d known….. “Joe’s not here right now,” she said weakly. “I’ll tell him you called.”
“Thanks.” Shawnee hesitated, then charged on. “Do you know if he’s made a commitment to join Rudy and that gang?”
Her heart was beating like a drum. “I really don’t know. Shawnee, I just work here. Honest. I don’t know a thing about it.”
Shawnee sighed. “I know. And you wouldn’t tell me if you did. I understand that. But let Joe know how we feel. David really thinks he should stay out of it.”
“Since I don’t really know what it is you’re talking about,” she began, but Shawnee broke in.
“Of course. You know, I really shouldn’t have bothered you with this. But we just want to make sure Joe understands how we feel. Just beg him to think twice before he commits. Can you give him that message?”
“Sure. I’ll tell him.”
“Thank you so much. And come on over and see what we’re planning at Rancho Verde. You’ll be amazed. Come over soon.”
“I will.”
She hung up, but Shawnee’s words, and her tone, left Carly with a feeling of dread in her heart. What was Joe getting involved in?
She found him working on irrigation equipment behind the barn. When she told him what Shawnee had said, he didn’t say a word for a few minutes. She waited. Finally he looked up at her and said, “How long have we got until the kids get home from school?”
She looked at her watch. “Two and a half hours.”
“Okay.” He stood before her and looked her straight in the eye. “You can ride, right?”
She hesitated. “I can hold on for dear life, if that’s what you mean.”
He nodded. “Good enough. Let’s go. I’ve got something I want to show you.”
They took the car to Millie’s and got out, heading right f
or the corral where six horses were wandering restlessly.
She hadn’t ridden a horse since she’d been a child, but there had been a time when she had ridden all over these hills. Just like riding a bike, a person never forgets how to ride a horse. Adjusting a saddle was another matter— that took her a while with Joe helping. But soon they were off.
They rode for half an hour, stopping twice for him to watch their trail for a few minutes to make sure they weren’t being followed and once when a small bi-plane went over, just in case. They went through a mountain pass so steep and rocky it made her heart beat so hard she thought she might have a heart attack, but finally they came onto a clearing that looked down over a beautiful valley. And there, below, was a herd of twenty or thirty wild horses, grazing peacefully.
“Are they really wild?” she asked him breathlessly, in awe over the majesty they seemed to represent—the country’s history, the sweep of generational change, the mythic beauty of the land. It was all there below, moving through the tall grass.
“Never been gentled, never been tamed,” he said. “The way they ought to be.”
“Who owns them?” she asked, slightly puzzled.
He didn’t hesitate. “No one owns them. They belong to God.”
She drew her breath in and tried to deal with that. “But…what are you doing with them?”
He looked at her with a fierce fire burning in his eyes. “I’m trying to save them,” he said. “I’m trying to take them to a place where they won’t be in danger of being transported to a Mexican slaughter house. That’s all.”
She put a hand over her mouth but she couldn’t say a word. The horses she was looking at were so beautiful. Some had young colts or fillies dancing alongside. The thought of them being slaughtered made her sick to her stomach.
“Come on,” he said, turning his horse. “We have to get back. I just wanted to show you.”
The ride back was even scarier than the ride to the sanctuary had been. When they were finally in the car and heading back to Destiny Ranch, she finally turned to him and asked, “What are you doing, Joe? Why would this get you in trouble?” Because it would. She didn’t have to wonder about that.
He took a deep breath and pulled the car into its place by the barn, then turned to her. “We’ve been working on an official sanctuary for over a year, but our plans never get approved. We’re going to have to hide the horses from the feds until we can get something more permanent set up. If we don’t, they’ll cart them off to who knows where—probably a slaughter house. We have to move soon.”
She shook her head, bewildered. “Move where?”
“I’ve got some land up in the mountains. I don’t want to say where. But we’re going to begin carting them up there, a few at a time.” He looked at her and a smile began to break through his intense manner. “Don’t worry about that. Don’t worry about anything. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you? Really?”
“Really. We’re being very careful.” He gave her a quizzical look. “And taking you out to the sanctuary was about the most dangerous thing I’ve done yet. But you won’t tell anyone. Will you?”
Never. At that moment, she was sure hot pokers could burn her flesh and she wouldn’t repeat a word of what he’d told her. She looked at him with shining eyes, ready to deem him her hero for all time. He was saving horses. What more could you ask of a man?
“Joe Carrington,” she said softly. “I think you’re wonderful.” And she kissed him on the mouth, hard and hot, and then she turned and opened the car door and fled to the house. She had a lot to think about.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE FISH ARE JUMPING
Sunday was a red-letter day. Phyllis suddenly decided she was well enough to join the rest of the family. Everyone stood around, mouths agape, as she descended the stairs from her room, her little legs seemingly as sturdy as trees. She wore a flowing orange caftan and made a lot of dramatic gestures. A real crowd pleaser.
“Hello, all my loved ones. Look! Isn’t it wonderful? I’m so much better now. I’ve decided to come down and make breakfast for my grandchildren.”
“Make breakfast?” they echoed as one, still stunned.
Carly glanced at Joe. He was as surprised as she was. But she was pretty sure she knew what was behind this wonderful recovery. The woman wanted to prove that they didn’t need Carly.
“Of course I’ll make breakfast.” Phyllis beamed at them all. “How would you like pancakes?”
“Oh goody!” Beth cried, clapping her hands.
“How about waffles?” Jeremy said grumpily, standing close to Carly, but he never had any hope of penetrating the layer of good cheer Phyllis had wrapped herself in this morning.
“It’s a miracle,” Joe said, a bit of his sarcasm showing.
“Call it a rebirth,” Phyllis corrected sunnily. “I feel as though I’ve been born again. Like I’m ready for anything.”
“You may be ready for anything,’’ Joe said. “But is anything ready for you?”
“Oh, you little devil.” She pinched his cheek and laughed, and he grimaced and went outside to see about things that men see about when they want to get away from their mothers.
She shrugged, watching him go, then turned and walked into the kitchen, pulling open cabinets as she went. “Now let’s see, where do we keep the mix? Oh, someone’s been changing things around, haven’t they? Naughty, naughty. It’s going to take me some time to get readjusted, I can see that.”
“Would you like some help?” Carly offered, coming forward to point out the canister she was looking for. “I’d be glad to help you.”
Phyllis turned and gave her a smile that was closer to a sneer. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve heard about your lack of experience in the culinary arts, dear.” She laughed as though it were supposed to be a joke, but Carly felt her cheeks redden, and looking down she could see the stricken look on Beth’s young face.
“Carly makes good pancakes,” Beth said stoutly, joining Jeremy at her side. “Carly makes the greatest. Doesn’t she, Jeremy?”
Her brother nodded vigorously and Carly felt something stinging her eyes. She wanted to wrap them both into her arms and squeeze them very tightly, but instead she managed a light laugh and said, “Your grandmother has had lots more experience at pancakes than I have. Years and years of it.” Her eyes flashed as they met those of the older woman. It was best that Phyllis know right away that she wasn’t going to get away with this stuff without a fight on her hands. “So let’s see how she does, okay?”
The children nodded, and Beth turned to frown at the woman who had been mostly invisible and upstairs in bed for most of the two years she had been living with them.
Beth looked at her, head to the side, considering. “Are you going to be our grandmother again?” she asked at last, her little brow furrowed.
Phyllis’s laugh was a bit hollow. “Darling, I’ve always been your grandmother and I’ll always be your grandmother. That’s one of those things about life— you can’t divorce a grandmother.”
Carly looked quickly at the children to see how that reference to their mother’s absence affected them. Their eyes were bland, emotionless, and she wondered exactly how Joe had explained it to them. On the whole they seemed to have adjusted very well. They had their behavioral problems, but she had seen no evidence that they were in any real trouble. Emotionally they seemed pretty stable.
She asked them to set the table and they went to the flatware drawer, squabbling over who would take what to the table.
Phyllis watched them, shaking her head. “They need a mother, poor dears,” she said to Carly in a loud stage whisper. “If only Joe and Millie would hurry up and get married, these kids would have a happy home once again. Don’t you think?” She smiled as though to say, “Two can play this game, dear.”
She did make great pancakes, Carly had to admit. They all sat around the table, including Joe, and ate until they could eat no more.
“No
w, I have big plans for our Sunday,” Phyllis announced as they were finishing up, clapping her hands for attention. “We’ll play board games and make fudge and—“
“Uh... Mother.” Joe’s voice wasn’t quite as diffident as Phyllis surely would have liked. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we already have plans.”
Everyone turned to stare at him, including Carly.
“Oh?” Phyllis said coolly. “And what are they, dear?”
There was just a moment when it was apparent to anyone watching really closely that he had no idea what he was going to say next. Carly could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he searched quickly for inspiration. “We’re taking Carly fishing,” he said at last, his tone triumphant. “She hasn’t been since she was a little kid. And Beth and Jeremy want to teach her all about fishing on the Kennison River.”
Phyllis frowned, her foot tapping on the floor with frustration. “You know I hate fishing,” she snapped.
“Yes, Mother. I do know that.” Joe’s smile was exceedingly innocent. “But after such a long illness you’ll hardly be up to an outdoor trip at this point anyway, will you? So why don’t you just stay home and watch a little TV and we’ll be back by dinner time. Okay?”
What could she say?
Probably a lot, if Joe had given her the time and space, but he didn’t. He hurried them all and had Carly in the kitchen making sandwiches and the kids packing the car, and before she knew what was happening she was on her way to go fishing. In a boat. On a river.
“Do I have to bait the hook?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“I’ll do it for you,” Jeremy assured her, and she smiled her thanks. He was still the quietest little boy she’d ever known, but lately he had taken to sitting beside her at every opportunity, and she was taking it as a compliment, whether it was meant that way or not.
They stopped at a sporting-goods shop to get bait and pick up a license for Carly, and then they were off. The area of the river where they were headed was actually a series of small lakes that emptied into each other. Joe had a boat docked at one of them. The four of them piled aboard and Joe started the motor, taking them out into the center of the lake where the water was like glass and the wild-bird calls echoed from bank to bank.
