by Nika Dixon
She fought through guilt at wondering if there was a catch to his offer. “Is this one of those small-town things?”
“What is?”
“Letting strange people stay in your guest room?”
“Would that make you say yes?”
“Maybe.”
“Then, yes.”
Clutching his hand like a lifeline, she turned to the open window and faced the quiet darkness.
Would Alan honestly think to look for her way out here? Absolution was probably the best hiding spot she could ever have asked for. Plus, it did include shelter, clothes, and food. Three things she had no way of providing herself in her current predicament.
A flicker of hope began to form. Maybe she could give it a few more days?
“Once I find a job, I’ll pay you back, I swear.”
She had no idea what kind of job she could possibly find with no ID, no experience, and no one who could vouch for her, but she would. Somehow, someday. She’d find a way to make it happen.
“I don’t recall asking for money.”
He sounded almost put off. She shook her head in disbelief. How could these people get anything done if they kept giving everything away? Maggie had fed her twice without asking for money, and that was in an actual restaurant. A business needed money coming in to make up for the product going out. Alan would never let anything be done without repayment—with interest. Free now just meant you’d owe him more later.
Marshall gave her hand a light squeeze. “Would it help if I told you, you give Dad a couple more of those drawings of yours, I’m pretty sure he’d count any account as paid in full?”
Emma couldn’t stop a sad laugh from escaping. “Maybe. Yes.”
“Then consider it a deal.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What’s that one going to be?” Lucy shoved her textbook off her thighs and flopped over to peek at the sketchbook in Emma’s lap. “Ooh, a snake! That’s going to be a really good one! Although not as good as the one you did of Daisy.”
Emma lowered her pencil and leaned back against the footboard of Lucy’s bed. “You don’t think any of them are as good as the one of Daisy.”
Lucy crawled up to the headboard and touched the sketch of her horse that was pinned to the wall. “Nope. It’s the best one so far. You did such a good job with her! Even the notch in her ear is right.” Flopping backward across the bed, Lucy sighed happily. “She’s perfect.” She rolled onto her stomach. “But your snake is still good, too.”
Emma smiled at the girl’s procrastination. She waved her hand at the textbook and binder Lucy was lying on. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing your homework?”
“Homework sucks. What you’re doing is much more interesting. Even if it is a rattler.”
“A rattler? You mean a rattlesnake?”
“Yup. It’s going to be a rattler. You can tell by the way you did the tail.”
“Snakes are poisonous, aren’t they?”
“Nah, not all of them. Some of them are kind of cool. But rattlers make this really neat rattle sound to warn you they’re close, so you can walk away from them.”
“Pretty sure I’d run, not walk!”
“Oh no, you shouldn’t run. Snakes can be fast. If you stand really still, they’ll calm down and go away. But if you move too quickly, they might get mad and bite you. That’s why they make that sound. Then you know they’re mad.”
“What’s the rattle sound like?”
“Um…like a rattle.”
“Well, that’s helpful.”
Lucy giggled, then listed off all the different types of creatures living on the ranch land.
“It sounds like you live in a zoo.”
“That would be awesome! I’d love to live in a zoo. I’d live with the polar bears in the summer—no, no, the penguins! We’d have such a great pool. Oh, oh, and then in the winter, I’d move in with someone warm. The giraffes.” She flipped up onto her knees and waved her hand at Emma’s art pad. “Can you draw a giraffe? I’d love a giraffe.”
“Really?” Emma laughed. “A giraffe?”
“Yes! I need a giraffe. Please? Please, please, please?”
Emma flipped to a new page. “A giraffe, it is.”
Lucy fist-pumped. “Yes!”
“But only if you finish your homework.”
Lucy grabbed her books and a pencil. “Race you!”
Emma grinned. “Go!”
After a few minutes, Lucy snapped her books closed with a flourish. “Done.”
“Me, too.”
Emma handed over a sketch of two giraffes—the taller one was wearing mirrored sunglasses and a tan hat, while the smaller one had a long black-and-orange-striped braid.
“Oh! It’s me and Dad! Emma, this is wicked. Dad’s going to laugh his butt off!” Lucy pointed to the silver star on the chest of the big giraffe. “Sheriff D. Giraffe? And, oh! I have a penguin!” She wiggled the paper, giggling at the little penguin standing on the smaller giraffe’s back.
“Well, you said you wanted a zoo with penguins and giraffes, right?”
Lucy crushed her in a tight hug. “This is the best present, ever.”
Emma closed her eyes and froze the entire moment in her mind.
Someday, she’d have this for her own. A life. A family. A beautiful little girl to draw pictures of giraffe-riding penguins for.
Lucy ran over to her desk for a roll of tape. She hopped back up onto her bed and, with concentrated care, taped the picture on the wall right next to the sketch of Daisy. “I love it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Lucy kicked her feet out and landed on her bed with a bounce that sent her schoolbooks tumbling to the floor. She gazed at the pictures on the wall, sighing. “They’re so cool.”
Emma stood and stretched, then walked around the bed to the window. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the breeze blowing soft and sweet. It was a beautiful day—yet she was completely content with being inside looking out. For years she would have promised the devil anything he wanted for even just a few minutes of alone time outside the walls of her prison. But hanging out with Lucy had brought back good memories from a childhood Emma had all but forgotten. Sleepovers with friends. Playing at the park. School classrooms and mall dates.
Today was her choice. Her decision. No one else had made it for her, which made the day absolutely perfect.
And there was the added bonus of not having to face any of the adults. Lucy had been more than happy for the company, and none of the Boyer men seemed to be bothered by that, so Emma had stayed put, drawing pictures and enjoying the freedom to talk about whatever she wanted to talk about, not what she’d been told to talk about.
Lucy picked up a stuffed wolf and crammed it down on top of her face, smothering a frustrated groan. Then she shoved the animal away and rolled onto her side. “Did your dad ever ground you?”
“I never knew my dad. My mom said he was some kind of businessman. He left before I was born.”
“Sounds like my mom. She didn’t want to have children, either. At least, that’s what she said.”
Emma was horrified. “She told you that?”
Lucy sat up and crossed her legs. “Not to me directly. I heard her on the phone with Dad once.”
“Oh, Lucy, I’m so sorry.”
Lucy shrugged. “What about your mom?”
“She died.”
“I wish my mom was dead.”
“Lucy!”
“Well, she kind of is. I mean, it’s not like she’s ever even been my mom, so it’s not like she’s really alive to me, anyway. Besides, if she were really gone, maybe Dad would finally find someone else and get me a new mom. Carlie Hunter’s dad married one of my teachers, and she’s, like, the best second mom ever.”
Emma had no idea what to even say.
“You know what you should do today?” Lucy’s sour expression flipped to a smile with the speed of a light switch.
“No, what
?”
“You should go out to the pond.”
“You have a pond?”
“Yep! It’s really pretty, too. It would make an awesome picture.”
The afternoon sun was awfully inviting, and a new location would give Emma more fuel for her inner artist, but leaving now would mean Lucy would be stuck alone. “What about you?”
Lucy grimaced. “Dad said I have to help Grandpa and Kent in the barn as soon as I’m done with my homework.”
“Kent?”
“Grandpa’s best friend. He helps Grandpa run things and helps with the horses and the hands.”
Emma frowned. “He helps him with his hands?”
Lucy giggled. “Not hands, hands, silly. Hands, like help. You know, for fixing stuff, taking care of the horses, mucking out the stalls.”
“Mucking? Sounds…messy.”
“Yeah, it’s so not fun. I have to do Daisy’s myself today, since I’m grounded.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. It won’t take long. Will you draw me a picture of the pond?”
“Is it far?”
“No, it’s really close. You can see part of it from your window.” Hopping off the bed, Lucy grabbed Emma’s hand and tugged her across the hall to the guest room. She moved the curtains aside and pointed to a cluster of trees off to the left. “See that big old oak tree? The one that’s taller than all the rest? Right over there. Look right behind it. You can see part of the pond sticking out.”
Emma pressed her nose to the glass. It took her a moment, but she finally located the tree and the sliver of blue on the ground behind it. “Oh! Yes, I see it.”
“It’d be super-fast if you took Daisy, but you can still get there pretty quick if you walk. Just cut across the pasture. It’s empty for the next couple of weeks, so you don’t have to worry about bulls and such. Go right up the hill and straight on ahead. If you aim for the tree, you can’t miss it. You’ll need some boots, though. I have a pair of Shannon’s that should fit. And socks. You need socks.”
Ten minutes later, art supplies safely stored in the leather satchel, and hand-me-down boots on her feet, Emma set out to find the pond.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Marshall rode up to the barn and nodded at Kent, who lumbered out to meet him. His father’s lead hand was a bowlegged, crotchety old coot, but he knew horses, he knew ranching, and he’d been working for the Boyer clan since before Marshall was even born.
“Where’s yer pa?” Kent asked in his usual gravelly grumble.
“Still riding the north fence line. Why? What’s up?”
“Well—” The old man scrunched up his weathered and wrinkled face. “Mebbe something. Mebbe nothing. But that lady friend of your’n been standing at the top of the meadow starin’ at a rock for near an hour now.”
Marshall bit back on correcting the old man about Emma being his lady friend and homed in on the fact that she was staring at a rock somewhere. “What?”
“You got dirt in yer ears, boy? I said the lady’s been standing at the top of the hill in the pasture for an hour now starin’ at a rock.”
Marshall urged Castor forward around the edge of the barn. Sure enough, Emma was standing in the pasture a short distance below the rise. She wasn’t moving her arms, so she couldn’t have been drawing. He squinted, trying to figure out what on earth she was doing. An hour seemed like an awfully long time to be standing on a hillside. There was a good chance Kent was exaggerating about the time she’d been standing there, although in all the years he’d known the old man, he hadn’t been one to embellish. Ever.
Kent lumbered up beside him. “You gonna go get her or what, boy?”
Marshall spurred Castor into a gallop, quickly crossing the meadow. As he neared the top, he was thankful at least this time she was walking around in proper footwear.
A few feet from where his houseguest stood, Castor stopped short, his ears flat.
A fraction of a second later, the telltale rattle sounded.
Shit.
Rattler. And it was somewhere directly in front of Emma.
Usually they would rather run than fight, giving off a parting rattle to let you know they were there. But this one was shaking off a steady pulse of warning. The fact that Emma had been standing there for any length of time, let alone an hour, told him all he needed to know.
The snake was pissed, and Emma was the closest target.
“Emma! Do not move.”
“Marshall?”
The warbling fear in her voice turned his blood to ice. “Were you bit?”
Hopping off Castor, he plotted how quickly he could get her back to his truck and over to the doc’s.
“No.”
Relief rushed through him. “Okay.”
“I heard a rattle. I didn’t know what it was, but Lucy said ‘rattle sound’ so when I heard it, I stopped.”
He took a few tentative steps toward her. “Can you see it?”
“It’s on my right somewhere. I think. Should I—”
“No! Don’t do anything. Don’t look. Don’t move. Stay very, very still.”
He eased a few feet down the hill to come back up directly behind her. The rattler’s warning drew him closer until he was able to pick out the slender coils neatly camouflaged in a big crack on the side of the boulder.
She’d walked right into it.
With its angry fangs inches from her thigh, the options were very, very limited. If she hadn’t been standing almost on top of the blasted thing, his first choice would have been to knock it away with a stick. If she’d just come across it, he could inch her back, but if she’d been standing as long as Kent suggested, her legs were more likely to give out than hold her up. Shooting it wasn’t an option, either. The rock could kick the bullet right back at her.
He slowly backed away again.
“Marshall?” She whispered his name in a panicked squeak.
“It’s okay. I’m not leaving you, Em,” he assured her.
He unhooked his jacket from where it was tied over the back of his saddle. He took a wide path around the boulder to where he could finally see her face. She wasn’t crying, but there was an added glassiness to her stare that told him she was damn close to cracking. Despite her obvious panic, he had to give it to her for being able to keep it together as long as she had.
“Just a few seconds longer, honey, I promise.”
He inched his way forward until he was leaning against the back half of the boulder. If he could block the snake’s hiding hole with his jacket, it would have to get through the material before it could get to her. The coat wasn’t heavy like his winter wear, but it had enough bulk to do the trick. He grabbed a couple of rocks from the ground and stuffed them into the pockets, adding additional weight.
“I’m going to count to three,” he said, sliding closer to her side of the rock. “When I hit three, you jump to me as far as you can, okay? Not up. Not away. To me. Got it?”
“Yes?”
“On three. Say it, Emma. On three.”
“On three,” she repeated.
“Okay. Ready?”
“Yes.”
“One.” Holding his jacket open, he draped it as wide as it would go and held it up above the crevice and its rattling occupant. “Two.” He twisted his hands in the material, making sure he had a solid grip on the seams. With a flick of his wrist he leaned over, flipped the jacket out, shouted, “Three!” and slapped the material down against the rock.
The second the denim left his fingers he grabbed for her as she half jumped, half stumbled toward him. The head of the snake struck forward with force, dragging his coat right off the rock. The cloth tangled as it dropped, covering the snake when it hit the grass.
He yanked her around to the back of the rock, keeping her upright when her legs buckled. With a quiet sob, she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.
“You’re okay. You’re okay,” he chanted, crushing her against him. “I’ve got you.�
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The serpent slipped out from beneath his jacket and slithered quickly away into the tall grass. With it gone, he sagged against the rock and pulled her closer against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.
“Please tell me it’s gone,” she said, her voice muffled against the front of his shirt.
“It’s gone.”
“Lucy said if I waited it would go away…but it wouldn’t leave.”
“You had it cornered. It didn’t have anywhere to go.”
“I didn’t know what I was supposed to do,” she said, twisting her hands in the back of his shirt.
“You did fine.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Which was exactly what you were supposed to do.”
“It was poisonous, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. It was.”
A bite might not have killed her, but not knowing what to do very well could have. He choked down his growing anger. If she’d been over the hillside, out of Kent’s line of sight, no one would have known she was here.
Frustrated with himself over the emotional roller coaster he was experiencing, he straightened up and stepped to the side, forcing her to release him. But breaking contact didn’t bring the relief he sought—if anything, it just made it worse. She was so completely frazzled he wanted to take her back into his arms and reassure her over and over that everything was okay.
He turned his back on the gold-green eyes burning through him and retrieved his jacket, dumping out the rocks. “What the hell are you doing all the way out here, anyway?”
“Lucy asked me to draw her a picture of your pond.”
He secured his jacket to the back of his saddle again with frustrated, angry yanks. Lucy should have known better. He was going to have to remind his niece the ranch wasn’t a garden park. The next time she felt like giving out tasks, she was to stick to areas within sight of the house. Or hell, inside the damn house. “Come on. Let’s get you back home.”
When Emma didn’t answer, he glanced toward her and found himself as frozen as she had been in front of the snake, only this time the culprit was a 100 percent disappointed female.
Goddamn it.
“Can I still see the pond?” she asked hesitantly.
