She and Ridge were checking missing persons reports in towns along the rodeo road, hoping somebody was looking for the kid. Meanwhile, Sharlene became a part of Phoenix House, acting as a big sister to Sierra’s unruly army of boys.
Now that Sharlene was taken care of, Ridge’s wife was determined to save Suze Carlyle, and she’d decided it was Isaiah she’d send to the wrecked rider’s rescue, whether he wanted to be a pint-sized knight in shining armor or not.
Ridge was surprised when Sierra chose Isaiah for the job. Suze had a bit of the devil in her, just like Isaiah, and he couldn’t see the two of them getting along. But Sierra had pointed out that Isaiah was the only boy at Phoenix House who could stand up to Earl Carlyle, and Ridge knew she was probably right. Carter might have done okay—the boy was so endlessly cheerful, Earl’s hostility would probably slide right off him—but Isaiah was the only kid who had the guts to answer back.
In fact, Ridge would pay money to see Earl and Isaiah go toe to toe. It would be better than an MMA match.
But right now, his job wasn’t to speculate on the final outcome of the matchup. His job was to convince Isaiah that the matchup was a great idea.
Unfortunately, Isaiah’s life experience had taught him to be deeply suspicious of everything and everyone. He’d come a long way in a year at Phoenix House, but he still questioned authority on every possible occasion.
Glancing at the kid in the rearview mirror, Ridge thought of a neighbor lady who’d declared the boy had devil’s eyes in an angel’s face. He could sure see the devil today. Isaiah’s features were so delicately sculpted that he looked almost elfin, but his dark eyes looked straight through anybody who tried to trick him or lie to him or even shade the truth.
Which was exactly what Ridge and Sierra were doing now. Dealing with Earl, and Suze too, would be a challenge even for Isaiah, but Sierra was determined to think positive.
Isaiah? Not so much.
“So if this Suzy Q is such a nice lady, how come she needs me to help her?” he asked. “Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?”
“Her name is Suze. Suze Carlyle, not Suzy Q,” said Sierra. “And maybe she doesn’t want a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, maybe she’s a lesbian.” Isaiah folded his arms across his skinny chest and nodded, as if the problem was settled to his satisfaction.
“It’s none of your business,” Sierra said.
“Yup.” The boy nodded sharply. “Lesbian. I thought so.”
Ridge kept his eyes resolutely on the road. One of these days, Isaiah was going to drive him straight off a cliff. Or crazy. One or the other.
Maybe both at once.
“Isaiah.” Sierra’s tone was a warning in itself.
“Okay, so she’s not.”
“Isaiah…” Her tone was even darker this time.
“Well, how am I supposed to help her if I don’t know what she needs?” Isaiah bounced in his seat, briefly acting his age before the old soul took over again. “Sounds like she needs a boyfriend. How ’bout if I set her up with one of those Match.com accounts?”
Ridge could almost see Sierra’s blood curdling. Isaiah was her biggest challenge, and Ridge tried to help when he could. Right now, that meant changing the subject.
“You met Suze once,” he said. “She came to pick up her horse when you kids were at the ranch. Remember? It was the first time you met my brothers.”
“Was she the blond with the nice—”
“Watch your mouth,” Ridge warned.
“I was going to say she had a nice trailer,” Isaiah said, all indignation.
Ridge doubted that had been the boy’s intention. Even now, the kid said the word trailer in a way that seemed to signify something else. At his age, he probably didn’t know what he was saying half the time, but he sure enjoyed saying it. Anything to rile people up.
“Yes, she was the one with the nice trailer.” Ridge flushed as he said it. Dammit, now he’d never be able to look at Suze’s elaborate horse trailer without thinking of the girl’s caboose at the same time.
“Well, she wasn’t a nice lady,” Isaiah said. “She was mean.”
“When was she mean?”
“She was mean to Brady. And he likes her.” Isaiah might be a pint-sized package of trouble, but he was fiercely protective of those he loved, and he loved Brady. Of course.
Everybody loved Brady.
“I don’t know why Brady likes her,” the boy mused. “She treats him like dirt.”
“How do you know how she treats him?” Ridge didn’t know how he ended up in these crazy conversations with Isaiah. The kid just knew how to push his buttons. As a matter of fact, Isaiah knew how to push everyone’s buttons. He’d make a great lawyer when he grew up—if somebody didn’t strangle him first.
“You didn’t even remember who she was a minute ago,” Sierra pointed out.
“Yeah, but now I do.” Isaiah pooched out his lower lip, an expression that didn’t bode well for anyone. “I like Brady. He’s the funnest one of your brothers. He’s way more fun than your big brother, Shane.”
Ridge grinned. Anything he could rib Shane about was a good thing. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Shane likes to boss folks around. I wasn’t put on this earth to be bossed, you know. Not by him or anybody else.”
“I noticed that.”
“Yeah. And Brady’s a lot funner than you too.”
“Why?”
Ridge hated to admit it, but he was a little jealous whenever the boys cottoned to either of his brothers. He was married to Sierra, the group mom for Phoenix House. That practically made him the group dad. He ought to be the favorite.
“Why is Brady funner than me?”
“’Cause he talks. You don’t hardly ever say a word if you don’t have to.”
“I’m talking now.”
“Yeah, but that’s only because I’m goading you into it.”
Ridge didn’t know if he should laugh or bang his head against the steering wheel in frustration. Fortunately, they’d reached the Carlyle place.
As he turned in the drive, he saw Suze’s father, Earl, outside, sitting on the front porch.
“Who’s that mean old man?” Isaiah asked.
“That’s Suze’s dad,” Sierra said. “What makes you think he’s mean? You haven’t met him yet.”
“He just looks mean,” Isaiah said. “Look how his eyes and nose and mouth are all squizzened up into a little knot in the middle of his face. And how his chin sticks out like he wants to fight.” Isaiah nodded. “He’s mean, all right. I got my work cut out for me at this place.”
As the van rocked up the pitted drive, Suze’s father stood and peered at the vehicle, using one hand for a sunshade. Ridge wondered if the old man really was spoiling for a fight. If he was, he just might find himself on the losing end of things.
Because Sierra was right; if anyone could take on Earl Carlyle, it was Isaiah.
* * *
Suze had always liked Sierra Cooper. She’d blown into town as the temporary group mom for Phoenix House, and stayed to marry Brady’s brother Ridge. The sunny social worker and the gruff, laconic cowboy were an odd match, but they seemed to make it work.
So the sight of the Phoenix House van pulling into the driveway wasn’t unwelcome. Rising from her seat in the shadows of the broad front porch, she tucked her crutches under her arms and limped down the steps and past her father to make sure Sierra and her cargo got a happier greeting than her dad would provide. Earl had been sulking on the porch steps all morning. Sure enough, as she exited the shade of the porch, her father stomped into the house.
The big side door to the van opened and a boy stepped out and stood in the drive with his hands on his hips, gazing around the Carlyle ranch like a pint-sized real estate mogul. He was a skinny kid with skin the color of a triple-shot latte and bright ey
es that seemed to take in every dilapidated detail as they flashed from the barn to the house to the front door, which was still blocked by Ellen’s old chair.
When the kid turned to Suze, his dark brows arrowed down over his eyes to make him look almost comically angry.
“What is this, some kind of crazy house?” He pointed at the recliner. “You got a chair stuck in the door, there. How’re people supposed to get inside?”
“Isaiah, hush,” Sierra said. “That’s rude.”
But as she approached the house, Sierra looked from Suze to the chair and back again. Suze didn’t know what to say. How could she explain the series of events that led to the chair jammed in the doorway?
“It’s kind of a Brady thing,” she finally said.
“Oh.” For Sierra, that seemed to be enough of an explanation. She ducked under the chair and motioned for the boy to follow. “Isaiah, it would be much nicer if you offered to help with the chair, now, wouldn’t it?”
“I can’t help with that chair,” the boy said. “That thing’s dang near as big as I am.”
Suze couldn’t help smiling. The kid was all city smarts until he cussed like a born cowboy. He’d evidently spent some time hanging around Decker Ranch.
“Why don’t you and Ridge go visit Suze’s horses?” Sierra asked.
“Because I’d rather find out what’s going on with that chair.” Isaiah’s bright eyes flashed. “Our teacher said there’s stories everywhere, and I bet there’s one in that chair.”
Sierra gave the kid a hard look. “That wasn’t a suggestion.” Her tone was mild but evidently effective. Isaiah headed straight for the barn and Ridge hastened to follow.
“How are you, Suze?” Sierra asked as Isaiah’s chatter faded into the distance. “I heard about the accident and thought maybe I could help.”
Great. She knew Brady wouldn’t listen to her. He’d gone around behind her back and told folks how pathetic she was. “Brady sent you, didn’t he?”
“Not really. He told Ridge and me what happened, of course. He feels awful about it, but I’m sure you know that.”
Sierra headed over to the long bench that sat in the hallway beneath a row of hooks that held jackets, hats, and various implements ranging from an ancient flyswatter to an assortment of dog leashes. Relieved to get off her feet, Suze joined her.
“I’m afraid my motives aren’t entirely pure,” Sierra continued. “I’ve been looking for ways the boys can give back to the community, and I couldn’t help thinking this was a great opportunity.”
“An opportunity?”
“A chance for them to help someone.”
“Someone less fortunate.” Suze picked at her cast, trying not to let the implication of what Sierra was saying bother her. She’d suddenly become less fortunate than a bunch of motherless, fatherless foster kids. When had that happened?
“It’s not like that.” Sierra touched Suze’s arm, and the look of compassion in her green eyes made Suze feel a little ashamed of herself.
Which was an improvement over feeling sorry for herself. Maybe she was evolving. They always said adversity made you a better person. This was the first hopeful sign she’d seen.
“Everybody sees these kids as charity cases, and they know it.” Sierra kept her voice low, even though Isaiah had gone off with Ridge.
Suze knew she couldn’t let Isaiah volunteer here, no matter how bright and amusing he was. She didn’t want the poor kid running afoul of her dad. Isaiah would be scarred for life.
“So it’s important for them to help others,” Sierra was saying. “It gives them a feeling of self-worth, and makes them feel like a part of the community.”
Just then, Suze heard Ridge’s voice hollering, “Isaiah! Get back here!”
A youthful voice piped up in the living room. “Whatcha watching?”
Suze realized Ridge was too late. Isaiah had found the back door. She braced herself for her father’s answer, but there was no response.
Isaiah didn’t give up, though. “Hey, your chair matches the one in the doorway. You oughta bring that one in here and then you’d have a matched set. You could maybe even invite a guest to sit down, so he doesn’t wear himself out watching TV standing up. Right?”
Chapter 47
Suze had to resist the impulse to slap her hand over her mouth. She and her father had avoided the topic of the chair since the day he’d discovered it. Brady refused to move it, and so it hung there, jammed in the doorway, a constant reminder of their problems.
Now this poor, innocent kid had brought it up. She waited tensely for her father’s answer.
“I was trying to bring it in here,” her dad finally said. “That’s how it got stuck.”
“Maybe Ridge and me could help you unstick it.”
“That’s ‘Ridge and I.’ And ‘unstick’ isn’t a word.”
“Well, it oughta be.” Isaiah seemed completely unfazed by her father’s hostility. Suze was starting to like this kid.
“Can we keep him?” she asked with a grin as Ridge ducked under the recliner.
“I heard that.” Isaiah came rushing in from the living room. “I’m not some puppy in the pet store you can just pick out, you know.” He punctuated his words with a jabbing finger. “I’m a full-grown human being.” He looked down at his slim frame. “Well, almost.” He looked up, frustrated. “You know what I mean.”
“I know you’re not a puppy,” Suze said. “First of all, a puppy would have tucked its tail and run when my dad used that tone of voice.” She deliberately spoke loudly, so her father would hear.
“That’s right.” Isaiah puffed out his skinny chest as best he could. “I’m no sissy puppy. I’m one of the big dogs!” He made a snarling sound and lunged at Ridge, who looked pained and backed away. Suze smothered a laugh.
“Isaiah, sit down and behave.” Sierra moved over, making room on the bench.
“Do I have to? I’d rather go watch Bonanza with that old guy,” the boy said.
“All right. Then go. And his name is Mr. Carlyle.” Sierra glanced at Suze, who nodded her approval.
Isaiah went.
“What do you think?” Sierra asked. “If you channel that energy, he could be a big help.”
“Doing what?” Suze asked.
“I was thinking he could come over for a couple hours after school and take care of whatever you needed,” Sierra said. “He could put dishes in the dishwasher, do some light housework, and just generally help out. And he makes a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“Brady did send you,” Suze muttered, but the idea didn’t make her mad anymore.
Sierra lowered her voice. “We talked a little, sure. And from what he said, it sounds like you’d be a good mentor for Isaiah. He’s a little bit of a handful, but that’s mostly a defense so people won’t see he’s vulnerable. He’s bright and funny and kind—and determined nobody will find out he can be hurt.”
“I’m not sure how much help I’d be,” Suze said, almost laughing. “I think a lot of people would say the same thing about me—the handful part, anyway.”
“Exactly.” Sierra smiled. She had such a kind face that Suze felt somehow blessed, and knew she’d been right: she and Sierra really could be friends. “I’ve heard you fit the other part too.”
“Well, don’t tell anybody.”
Sierra laughed, but then she shifted into a more serious mode.
“Isaiah loves to cook, although he’ll need some guidance as far as following recipes and making up menus. Be careful, because he’ll put you on a constant diet of chocolate cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if you let him.”
“Does he make good chocolate cake?”
“It’s pretty darn good,” Sierra admitted.
“That might not be so bad, then.”
“True.” Sierra smiled. “All the
boys have learned basic horse care and safety from Ridge, but they have different levels of interest. This one is capable, but he’s not horse crazy. I understand your horses are valuable and highly trained, so I didn’t think you’d want a kid who wants to ride them.”
“Not unless he’s highly trained too,” Suze said. “But this sounds like a lot of work for a kid.”
“Isaiah has a lot of energy. And I’m also going to ask for something in return.”
There was always a catch.
“Okay,” Suze said.
“Make him feel needed, like part of the family. He especially needs a fatherly or even grandfatherly force in his life. I’d like him to spend some time with your dad. And it seems like that’s already working out.”
“For now,” Suze said. “But my dad’ll never agree to it. He’s—he’s not an easy man.”
The truth was, he wasn’t even fatherly to his own daughter.
“So don’t ask him. Just let Isaiah spend some time with him. I don’t care if they just sit and watch TV.”
“I thought Ridge was their father figure.”
“They have to share him. Isaiah needs somebody all his own.”
“I hate to tell you this, but Isaiah’s getting a pretty tough grandpa.”
“That’s what he needs.” She clasped her hands, pleading. “Give it a try, please? He’s a great kid.”
Suze felt a smile twitching at the corner of her lips—a mischievous, knowing smile. “He’s driving you nuts, isn’t he?”
Sierra nodded. “School can’t come fast enough.”
“Okay,” Suze said. “Let’s do it.”
Sierra let out a little whoop, her smile lighting the room. Suze couldn’t help envying her, with her pretty face, her handsome horse-trainer husband, and a job that truly made a difference to the world.
“I don’t really care if he does any work or not,” she whispered to Sierra. “I just want him around to annoy my dad. And he’s funny.”
How to Kiss a Cowboy Page 29
