Ryan looked at the desk warily, making no move to do as she said. He had a reason. “But that’s Chris’s desk.”
“I know that, but I’m sure Chris wouldn’t mind if you sit there just for a few minutes. He’s outside, playing,” she reminded the boy.
After hesitating for another second, he finally walked over to the desk she had pointed out. Still hesitating, Ryan lowered himself into the seat as if he expected it to blow up at any moment.
Watching him, Wynona was more convinced than ever that there had to be something wrong, most likely in his home life. Was his father abusing the boy?
Taking care to make and keep eye contact as she spoke, she kept her voice as warm and friendly as she could as she began to talk to the boy.
“I know that I’m still new here at the school, Ryan, but I just wanted you to know that if you have something you need to talk about, or if there’s something that’s bothering you, no matter how small it might be, I’m here for you.”
It was everything she could do not to put her arms around the boy and hold him to her. He looked so terribly vulnerable.
“You can tell me absolutely anything you want.” She peered down into his face, trying her best to maintain that eye contact. The boy had attempted to look away, but she wouldn’t let him. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Ryan?”
Ryan pressed his lips together and nodded, but he didn’t say anything.
It was like pulling teeth, Wynona thought. Very elusive teeth.
But she was determined and she tried again. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Ryan?”
Ryan shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
His answer was so low, she almost couldn’t hear the boy.
She knew that she could only push so much without scaring him off.
“Okay, but if you change your mind,” Wynona told the boy, “my offer still stands. And you know where to find me.”
Ryan responded to her question in complete seriousness. “In school.”
The corners of her mouth curved ever so slightly, but she managed not to laugh.
“Exactly.” Wynona glanced at her watch. “You’d better get outside, Ryan. I’ve used up part of your recess playtime.”
He obediently rose to his feet. “That’s okay,” he told her. “I wasn’t going to play anyway.”
Wynona took advantage of the opening, hoping to get a better understanding of what was going on in the boy’s head.
“Why not? Don’t you like to play, Ryan?”
She watched the small shoulders rise and fall in a helpless shrug. “Everybody already picked who they wanted on their side and what games they’re gonna be playing,” he told her.
She came to stand beside him, trying to convey in spirit that she was on his side. “Nothing’s cast in stone, Ryan. There’s always room for one more.”
The look he gave her said that they both knew that wasn’t true, at least not in his case. As he began to slip out of the classroom, Wynona called after him. “Would you like to help me put out the books for our reading lesson?”
Sensing that would only put him even further apart from the others, Ryan answered, “That’s okay. I’ll just go outside.”
Watching him go, Wynona blew out a long breath. Granted, she hadn’t been a teacher for all that long, but she could definitely recognize a cry for help when she saw it, even though none of those particular words had actually been spoken.
“Oh, Lord, what happened to you, Ryan?” she murmured under her breath as she observed the boy from the window as he made his way outside.
As she watched, Ryan went to a space on the playground that was totally devoid of any students. It was as if he had voluntarily placed himself in exile.
She needed to do something about this, Wynona thought. She honestly didn’t know what, but there had to be something she could do. She couldn’t just stand back and do nothing while she watched the little boy almost wither away and die on the vine.
* * *
Over the course of the next two days, Wynona attempted to call Clint Washburn three more times. Each time she called, the phone rang five times and then the call went to his answering machine. She already knew that she was calling a landline. Apparently, Clint Washburn didn’t have a cell phone.
He also didn’t answer his landline or check his messages, she thought, growing progressively more and more annoyed. Being annoyed was something rare and out of character for her but she was definitely getting there, she thought, frustrated.
When she “struck out” again, waiting in vain for the man to return any of her calls, Wynona made up her mind as to what she was going to do next.
She obtained Ryan’s address from the administrative office—a closet of a space, she thought as she walked out—and drove over to Ryan’s family ranch.
She knew that this was highly unorthodox, given that they were only entering into the second full month of the school year, but she was out of options. At this point she was dead set on giving Washburn a piece of her mind. She wasn’t used to being ignored like this. Especially not when it came to a matter that concerned one of her students.
* * *
When she drove her vehicle up to the ranch house that afternoon, Ryan was the first to spot her. The sound of an approaching vehicle had already drawn him to the front window. He was looking out that window when the car pulled up.
The car was unfamiliar to him. The person emerging from it was not.
“It’s Ms. Chee!” he all but shouted in surprise. Turning for a split second to look over his shoulder in Lucia’s direction, Ryan repeated what he’d just seen. “Lucia, it’s Ms. Chee! She’s here. My teacher’s here!”
Caught by surprise, Lucia quickly wiped her hands on her ever-present apron as she hurried toward the front door. Puzzled, she spared Ryan a glance. “Did she tell you she was coming?”
“No,” he answered, his head moving from side to side like a metronome set on high. “She didn’t say anything to me about coming here.”
“Are you sure?” Lucia prodded. “Did you do something bad in school?”
Even as she asked the question, Lucia was certain that the answer was no. Ryan was the model of obedience at home, but nothing else occurred to her at the moment.
“No,” Ryan answered in a small, uneasy voice that said he was wavering in his belief about his own innocence in the matter.
Lucia had reached the front door by now and began to open it.
“Well, she has to have a reason for this visit,” Lucia insisted. The next moment the small, dynamic housekeeper was standing on the porch, a one-woman welcoming committee. “Hello, I’m Mr. Washburn’s housekeeper, Lucia Ortiz.”
Wynona quickly made her way up the steps to the housekeeper. She took the woman’s outstretched hand, shaking it.
“Hello, I’m Ryan’s teacher, Wynona Chee.” She peered over the shorter woman’s shoulder, looking into the house. “Is Mr. Washburn around?”
Lucia remained standing in the doorway, making no move to let the other woman in. Her first allegiance was to the family she worked for. “Yes.”
Wynona had come this far; she was not about to back off or turn around and go back to town. “I’d like to see him, please.”
“He’s at the corral,” Lucia informed Ryan’s teacher politely. “But this is his busy season. He’s breaking in the new horses.”
From what she remembered, ranchers were always busy, Wynona thought. She hadn’t come to discuss what the man was doing; she had come about his son, whose well-being was far more important than any horses or cattle.
“I’m sure that’s all very important,” she told the woman, “but what I have to say to him is far more important.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Just point me in the right direction and I’ll be out of your hair,” she promised the housekeeper.
“Maybe you should wait in the house,” Lucia tactfully suggested. “I can bring you some tea to drink. Or perhaps you’d rather leave a message for Mr. Washburn and he’ll get in touch with you.”
Right, because that had worked out so well, Wynona thought. “Sorry, but I did and he didn’t so now we’re past leaving messages and waiting politely. I need to speak to him now.” She looked down at Ryan. “Ryan, can you take me to where your dad’s working?”
Torn, it was the moment of truth for Ryan. Hesitating, he wavered for just a second and then he chose his side.
“Okay,” he said, taking her hand. “Follow me.”
Chapter Three
Taking a momentary break, Jake leaned against the corral fence. That was when he saw her, a tall, willowy woman with jet-black hair. She was dressed in jeans, boots and a work shirt. And she was heading straight for them.
“Hey, don’t look now, boss, but from the looks of it, there’s an angry lady coming your way,” Jake alerted Clint. “And if you ask me, it looks like the lady’s loaded for bear.”
Roy was already looking in the woman’s direction and she had his complete attention. “I don’t care what she’s loaded for as long as she brings it my way,” Clint’s brother declared wistfully. “Who is she?” he asked, intrigued. “I don’t remember ever seeing her around before. I would have remembered that face,” Roy assured his brother and the other man.
Jake hadn’t taken his eyes off the woman since he’d first spotted her.
“Yeah, me, too.” He glanced toward Clint, who was still working and hadn’t bothered to look at the interloper. “You know her, boss?”
“Whoever she is, Clint, she’s got your boy with her,” Roy added, still not looking away.
“What the hell are you two going on about?” Clint demanded shortly.
He’d been up early, going between the stable and the corral, and working since before his son had gone off to school. He had only spared a minimum of time for the cattle today. He was in no mood for guessing games, or unannounced guests. He just wanted to finish what he was doing and get in out of the sun.
“I don’t know about Jake, but I’m talking about the prettiest sight I’ve laid my eyes on in a long, long time,” Roy answered.
Exasperated, Clint dropped what he was doing and finally looked up just as the angry-looking young woman stepped up to the fence. Rather than ducking between the slats the way he would have expected her to do, he saw her climb up and then over the fence, jumping down on the other side as if she’d been doing it all of her life.
He was aware that his son was taking all this in with awe. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said that the boy had the makings of a crush on this woman.
“Which one of you is Clint Washburn?” Wynona asked, walking until she was right in the middle of them.
Clint noted that both his brother and Jake would have been more than willing to say they were, but since he was standing right there, they couldn’t. Both looked in his direction.
“I am,” he told her, taking off his work gloves and shoving them into his back pocket. “Can I help you?” he asked. His tone of voice clearly indicated that there were a great many other things he would have wanted to do first before turning his attention to whatever it was that this woman had come to see him about.
Wynona did a quick scrutiny of the man. He had broad shoulders and a small waist. His dirty-blond hair could have used a haircut, but it was his attitude that really needed work. The man was just as unfriendly as she had imagined he’d be.
“I’m Wynona Chee,” she informed him, introducing herself. And then she added, “I’m Ryan’s teacher,” in case he hadn’t listened to any of the multiple messages she’d left—which she was beginning to suspect he didn’t.
“Well, Wynona Chee, if you’re his teacher, why aren’t you at school, going about your business?” Clint asked.
She resented the way he said that, but snapping at the man wasn’t going to help Ryan and it was Ryan who was the important one here. So Wynona bit back a few choice words that instantly rose to her lips and kept her temper in check.
“I am going about my business,” she informed him tersely, ignoring the other two men taking all this in. “Since you weren’t returning any of the countless messages I left on your phone, I decided that a face-to-face meeting with you might be the better way to go.”
“Oh, is that what you decided now?” Clint asked and she got the distinct impression that he was mocking her.
“Don’t mind my brother,” Roy said quickly, speaking up. “He gets kind of ornery when he’s been working all day. Around here, whenever rattlesnakes take one look at him, they just head the other way.”
Clint shot his younger brother a dirty look, which didn’t seem to affect the other man at all.
Instead, Roy just shrugged in response. “I just thought she needed to be warned,” the younger man told Clint.
At any other time, Wynona might have even been somewhat amused by this exchange between brothers, but she wasn’t here to be amused. She was here because she felt that Ryan Washburn needed help in coming out of his shell before that shell wound up setting around the boy permanently, walling him off from everyone around him.
Wynona opened her mouth to state her purpose, then stopped. While Clint Washburn seemed uninterested in what she had to say, the other two men with him appeared to be all ears. She had a feeling that what she had to say wasn’t something that Washburn would want the others to hear.
“Is there someplace we could speak privately?” Wynona asked Ryan’s father.
Since he could see the woman wasn’t going to just leave even if he didn’t encourage her, Clint resigned himself to hearing her out about whatever minor, imagined complaint she had come to voice. It was the only way he figured he could get rid of her.
Gesturing around at the vast area surrounding them, he said, “Pick a place.”
She felt that he was humoring her, but it didn’t matter as long as he listened to what she had to say and, more important, took it to heart.
“How about over there?” she asked, pointing to the far end of the corral, away from the horses and the other two men.
Broad shoulders rose in a careless, disinterested shrug. “Works as well as any other place,” he told her in an equally disinterested voice.
As she led the way to the spot she’d pointed out, Wynona noticed that Ryan fell into step right beside her. She didn’t want to risk the boy overhearing his father saying something negative about him.
“No, you stay over there for now, Ryan,” she instructed the boy gently.
“But you’re gonna be talking about me, aren’t you?” Ryan asked. It was obvious that he felt that since this meeting was about him, he did have a right to be there.
She had a feeling that he was always being excluded, but this time it was in his best interest.
Wynona did her best to temper her answer. “I’d like to talk to your dad alone first, Ryan. When that’s done, you can join us.”
Because she took the time to explain this to him first, Ryan felt a little better about having to be left out. Nodding his head, he stopped walking and obligingly fell back.
His uncle came up behind him and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder as Ryan’s teacher and his dad kept walking. He waited until they were a little farther away.
“You getting into some kind of trouble?” Roy asked his nephew good-naturedly. He ruffled Ryan’s hair with affection.
Ryan turned around to look up at him. “No, sir,” he answered solemnly.
“No, I guess not,” Roy laughed. “You wouldn’t know trouble if you tripped over it.” Ryan had always been a good kid, almost too good, Roy thought. A kid needed to get into things once in a while, but Ryan never did. “Why don’t you come on back and help me and Jake get the bridle bits ready for those new ho
rses?” he told his nephew.
He’d seen time and again how eager the boy was to help and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why his brother kept turning a deaf ear to Ryan’s offers. It just didn’t seem right, he thought.
Both he and Clint had grown up working around the horses and doing every imaginable chore there was when it came to running the ranch. They’d practically been born in a saddle and it certainly hadn’t done them any harm. It had come in handy when their father had totally stopped doing any work on the ranch at all.
Roy had told his brother more than once that working with the horses was good for the boy, but Clint never seemed to hear him.
He shook his head. If Clint kept this up, he was certain that his brother was going to drive a permanent wedge between himself and his son.
Roy certainly hoped that that young, pretty teacher had better luck talking some sense into his fool brother’s head than he did, he thought, looking over toward where the two were standing.
With a shrug he caught up to his nephew and went to rejoin Jake.
* * *
“So what’s so important that you felt you had to come all the way out here in person to tell me?” Clint asked once they finally stopped walking and Ryan’s teacher had turned around to face him.
Wynona got right to it. Hands on her hips, she demanded, “Do you have any interest in your son?”
Clint felt his back going up instantly.
“What kind of a fool question is that?” he asked.
He’d raised his voice, but she wasn’t about to be intimidated. “A pretty straightforward one as far as I can see.”
His dark blue eyes narrowed. “Then maybe you have blinders on.”
Wynona didn’t take the bait, didn’t get sidetracked by the hostility in his voice and she didn’t get caught up in an argument. Instead, in a very calm voice, she told him, “I would still like an answer to my question.”
The Cowboy's Lesson in Love Page 3
