“It was built in nineteen fifteen after the original log schoolhouse was destroyed in a fire. My father bought the building at auction when I was a kid and moved it from its former location in town to here. He had plans to renovate it himself, but that was one of the things he never got around to.”
“Ella told me about your father’s passing. I’m sorry for your loss,” Lindy said with sincerity.
“Thank you.” He glanced at his watch and asked, “Do you want to see inside? It’s furnished similar to the one I just showed you, only there’s more space.”
She knew this “tour” was keeping him from his work and didn’t want to hold him up. “I’ll see it later when Ella gives me my full instructions. I don’t mind heading back to headquarters on my own. Feel free to go back to your work at the cabin.”
“Before I do, I promised to introduce you to Butch and Sundance. And I’m a man who doesn’t break my promises.”
“All right,” she said, doubting that was true. She’d never met a man yet who didn’t break promises, except for Griffin—and he was paid not to break them.
Her mouth gaped in surprise when they settled beside a fenced-in area behind the barn and two furry miniature donkeys trotted over to greet them.
Through the fence, Cole rubbed the nose of one. “This gray-dun is Butch.” When the other animal stuck his head through the opening and nudged Lindy’s knee, she giggled and scratched the fuzzy patch sticking up between his long ears. “That spotted one is Sundance,” Cole said.
“They’re precious. How long have you had them?”
“Only a couple of weeks now. They belonged to an elderly neighbor who could no longer care for them. Cute, huh?”
Competing for attention, the donkeys playfully lunged at each other’s necks and brayed loudly. “They’re so sweet, and small,” she gushed. “How tall are they?”
“These two are about thirty-four inches at the withers and they weigh around three hundred pounds each. Do you think the guests will like them?”
She felt her eyes widen. “Yes! Especially children. Do they graze with the horses?”
“Not at this time. They’re so little we thought it best to keep them separated. But they’re herd animals, like horses, so it’s a good thing they have each other for company, or else they’d get very lonely.”
“Just like people,” she mumbled quietly.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Lindy noted the run-in on the far side of the pasture, a trough full of water, and a round mound of hay in a feeder. It was apparent Ella and Cole Roberts knew how to care for animals properly.
“I suppose you saw the horses in the field when you drove in,” Cole said.
“Yes, they’re beautiful. Is that one of the main reasons people will be drawn to the Painted Pony? For the trail riding?”
He nodded. “Guests will be able to sign up for one or two rides per day, depending on how many guests we have at any given time. Based on each person’s experience, the wranglers will take them across the desert or up into the mountains. Either way, they’re going to have fun. Do you ride?”
“No,” she smiled. “I’ve been a city girl most of my life.”
“Do you think you’ll want to learn, now that you’ll be working here?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
His gaze raked her up and down. “I’d guess you to be a natural on a horse. You look athletic. I could teach you the basics, if you’re ever interested. Just let me know.”
“I will.” A look of satisfaction filled his face, and Lindy’s nerves rippled beneath her skin. Why had she said that? She shouldn’t have implied that she’d be taking him up on his offer, but his intense stare had gotten her flustered and the words had just flown out of her mouth. After taking some steadying breaths, she said, “I should probably find Ella. Thank you for the tour, and for introducing me to Butch and Sundance.”
At the mention of their names, the miniature donkeys bounded off, hee-hawing, and jumping into the air nipping at each other.
“I’d best be getting back to help Bobby and Tony,” Cole said. “I’ve already wasted half a day running errands in town and doing other stuff.”
She didn’t think he meant it as a dig, but it felt like one all the same. After all, he’d inadvertently been involved in the incident with Mrs. Smith earlier, and now he’d spent valuable time showing her around the ranch. “Headquarters is that way,” she said, getting her bearings and pointing in the direction of the house. “Right?”
“Right. I’ll see you at supper. The wranglers and I will be there. Mom is holding a staff meeting afterward.”
“Oh. Okay. Goodbye.” Lindy turned and started the short trek up the hill, but spun around before she’d taken too many steps. Surprised to find Cole still standing at the fence watching her, she felt gooseflesh rise on her skin and called out, “I forgot to ask. Is there a pay telephone in the house?”
“A pay phone?” His head angled in question. “No, but cell phones work out here.”
“I don’t have a cell phone.”
His head cocked again. The expression on his face was one she’d seen before. No one these days believed her when she admitted she didn’t own a cell phone. But you had to apply for them, which meant giving out personal information. And cell phones could be tracked, which was the primary reason for her not carrying one. She didn’t even trust the disposable kind.
“I need to make a call, but I assure you it’ll be collect, if that’s your concern.”
“That’s not my concern. I was wondering about something else,” he said cryptically. His face sobered, and after a few seconds of appearing to be thinking something over, he said, “I’m sure Mom will let you use the phone in her office.”
“Thanks.” Lindy turned again, hoping she’d acted distant enough during their short time together for him to realize she wasn’t interested in anything more than a business association, but polite enough not to annoy him. She needed—and wanted—this job.
Inside, she found Ella, who offered the privacy of her office for Lindy to make her phone call. Once she heard Ella’s footsteps retreat, and her and Luz conversing in the kitchen, she closed the door and dialed Griffin’s number. He picked up after two rings and accepted the reverse charges.
“I take it you made it there safely,” he said.
“Yes, but an old lady hit my car as soon as I got into town. I can get by without fixing the dented bumper, but I’m going to have to repair a broken taillight. I can’t afford a ticket.”
“That’s a tough break,” Griffin said. “What about Ella Roberts and the ranch? Are you going to do okay there?”
Her face felt flush with gratitude. “Griffin, it’s wonderful here. I know you went out of your way to set me up with this one. I want you to know how much I appreciate it.”
“You deserve this after three years of hell. I’m glad for you.” After a brief pause, he said, “You know the rules, kid. No conversations longer than two minutes. Do you have any questions for me before we hang up?”
“Am I still safe, Captain?” she asked. It was the only question she ever had for him.
He answered with the same response he always gave. “Aye, matey.” It was the language of their secret code. Lindy knew if he ever returned her question with something different, it meant she was in trouble. “Call me next week,” he said before disconnecting.
Lindy held the phone next to her ear for a few seconds before placing it in the receiver. She leaned back in Ella’s leather chair and closed her eyes, remembering a time when life had been normal.
Would it ever be that way again?
She sighed and opened her eyes. Hanging on the wall in front of her was a large oil painting of a horse galloping across a field with his mane blowing in the wind.
“What are you running from?” she asked softly.
Five
“Fifteen minutes ’til lights out. Want to play a hand of cards before bed? Or bet on the fight to
morrow?” Roy, a prisoner at the California State Prison in Sacramento, asked his cellmate.
Skin shook his head, not wanting to be bothered with cards, betting, or this idiot, whose near constant yammering drove him insane.
Ever since he could remember, Skin had a difficult time making friends. As a young child, he’d known he was different because people stared at him wherever he and his mother went. They gaped and whispered behind their hands. Some insensitive clods even pointed to him, said rude things out loud and laughed, causing him to cry.
“Don’t pay those ignorant jackasses any mind,” his mother would grit while flipping them with what he later learned was “the bird.” “They’re as tacky as the toilet paper I wipe my butt on,” she’d say. As if that would make him feel better. It didn’t. Her language and behavior only embarrassed him.
His mother was rough, but she was all Skin had. There were no aunts, uncles, grandparents, or cousins. They’d rarely associated with their neighbors, so he hadn’t known if she was a good parent or bad. But he’d had a pretty good idea.
There’d been no one for him to compare her to—least of all his father. The man had run to the corner store to buy cigarettes a couple of days after Skin had been born and never came back. This was the story Mother had given him the only time he’d asked if he had a father. She’d said the two of them were better off without the jerk, because his father didn’t have a brain anyway, and he’d been too stupid to realize what a special boy he’d sired.
The realization of just how special Skin was hit home when he turned five years old and began kindergarten. From that first day of school until he dropped out on his sixteenth birthday, kids teased, bullied, and ruthlessly tormented him. All because of the way he looked.
His condition was called albinism. According to the definition in the dictionary, which he’d memorized at age eight, he appeared the way he did because of “a congenital disorder characterized by the complete or partial absence of pigment in the skin, hair and eyes due to the absence or defect of an enzyme involved in the production of melanin.” In layman’s terms, Skin was an albino.
His body was very pale, leaving him to burn easily if exposed to the sun for long. His hair, eyebrows and eyelashes were as white as an old man’s. But it was his eyes that garnered the most attention, frightening most people. They stood out like dark pomegranate seeds that had been stuck in a bed of snow, appearing purple due to the lack of pigment to color the iris.
And as if his rare disorder weren’t enough, to add insult to injury, Skin had grown to six feet four inches by the time he was thirteen. He’d been a thin, lanky, ghost of a kid. Now he was a thin, lanky ghost of a man. Even here, in prison, men stared when they first set eyes on him.
Through the years, people had asked, “Is Skin your real name?” Of course, it wasn’t. His mother hadn’t been that crazy. But it was the one he’d been branded with on that first day of school, and it had stuck. It was the name he’d spit at the police all those times he’d been arrested as a troubled teenager. Seven years ago, he began to wear the moniker proudly, like a badge of honor, when his true family, the Brotherhood, took him in as one of their own. And Skin was what the losers in this hellhole called him now.
At twenty-seven years old, Skin was not just his nickname; it was who he was, what he stood for. There was no sense in trying to become someone else now. Besides, doing so would only confuse her.
Leaning against the chipped plaster wall with his fingers clasped behind his neck, he stared at the Polaroid picture taped to the wall next to his bed. Those big brown eyes had been staring back at him for three long years.
Every day he thought about her. Did she still think about him? How could she not, with shadows following her from city to city? His allies in the Brotherhood had tracked her down twice, only for her to vanish before they could retaliate for what she’d done to him.
Grinding his teeth in rage at their incompetence, and the memory of his trial three years ago, his teeth sank into his bottom lip. Numb to pain, he had no idea he’d drawn blood until he felt something warm trickle onto his chin.
Two months and no one from the Brotherhood had sent him a message as to her current whereabouts. He didn’t expect any. They’d already let her get away, not once but twice. Skin no longer had confidence in his brothers to get the job done. Which meant he had to do it himself.
With the bedsprings squeaking, he rose from the thin mattress and traced his finger over her face in the photo. Inside his mind, he asked her the same questions he asked every night, as if the woman in the photo might start talking and give him answers.
What color is your hair now? Who is hiding you? Are you still screwed up in your thinking? Have you accepted yet which race is supreme?
His thoughts flashed back to the night that changed both of their lives. She’d proven to be much stronger, physically, than he’d anticipated. After he’d killed those blacks and that wetback and chink, he’d shot her in the arm as she ran out the back. But she’d somehow managed to escape, call the police, and he’d been captured. Her emotional strength had been demonstrated on the day she faced him in court and testified against him, leading to his conviction.
On one hand, Skin had to respect such a woman. On the other, his resentment sheathed him like armor. The determination to see her suffer grew more potent each day, and particularly at night before he went to sleep. He’d get on his knees and pray for her to screw up somehow. And then he’d lie in bed practicing what he’d say to her when they finally met again. For they would meet again, he smiled, returning to the bed just as the cellblock went dark.
It was time. They would meet again, and it would be very soon.
Six
“That meal was delicious.” Cole praised Luz while pushing his plate back. A chorus of contented cheers echoed from the wranglers, Lindy and Ella. Luz smiled and began to collect their empty plates.
“I’ll help with those,” Lindy said, scooting out from the table.
“All right. Thank you, Lindy. You get the plates and I’ll get dessert ready,” Luz said, stepping into the kitchen and uncovering a pie.
“A pie, too?” T.J. marveled, stretching his neck out to catch a glimpse over the counter. “I’m sure glad it’s in my job description to eat meals with the guests,” he said with enthusiasm. “Miss Luz cooks a whole lot better than my own ma. But don’t tell Ma I said that, Mrs. Roberts, or she’ll skin me alive.”
Ella chuckled. “I won’t, T.J. Scout’s promise.”
Cole watched Lindy glide around the table picking up everyone’s empty dishes, wondering what her story was. He sensed she was hiding something and was determined to find out what it was. She could be a criminal out to charm her way into his mother’s bankbook.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Dalton drawled when Lindy passed by.
Her lips curved into a smile. “You’re welcome, Dalton.”
The wrangler grinned, and his wistful gaze followed her movement around the table. This slightly annoyed Cole, until he realized Lindy wasn’t paying him any further attention. Why Dalton’s attentiveness to her irritated him, he had no idea. Especially since he was resolute in swearing off women for the time being, and untrusting of the mysterious Miss Grainger.
Or was he lying to himself? Although he was hard-pressed to admit it, the reason seemed clear. It was a matter of male pride. He’d always had a way with women, and had never lacked for female attention until Jordan had put him in his place and Rachel had chosen her occupation over him. Both instances had caused him to question whether he’d lost some of his masculine prowess. Even though he didn’t need a woman in his life right now—particularly a close-mouthed one—he still needed to know he could attract the attention of one.
When Lindy sidled next to him and leaned over to pick up his plate, Cole grabbed for it and brushed his arm against hers on purpose. Their gazes met and he said, “Did you make your phone call today?”
Her eyes widened and her back stiffened. “
Yes, I did. And I made it collect, as I’d promised.” With that curt response, she jerked the plate out of his hand and strutted to the kitchen where she began loading the dirty plates into the dishwasher.
Across the table, Ella narrowed her eyes at him in question. Shrugging, he didn’t know what he’d said wrong. He’d just wondered if she’d made her call. Next to him, Sandy elbowed him in the ribs and chuckled.
“Who wants apple pie?” Luz asked. Six hands flew into the air, including Lindy’s.
“While Luz is passing out the pie,” Ella said, sitting ramrod straight in her chair, “let’s get down to business. We can talk while we eat. I want to go over the schedule for tomorrow and Saturday and make sure we’ve got everything ready for our first guests to arrive.”
Lindy finished up quickly in the kitchen, returned to her place at the table and fixed her attention on Ella. Although Cole tried to catch her eye several times while his mother spoke, not once did she gaze his way.
When the staff meeting was over, Ella thanked everyone for all the hard work they’d put in to get the ranch ready to open. “Go home and get some sleep,” she told the boys and Luz, “and we’ll see you bright and early in the morning. It’s going to be a busy day.”
Sandy and T.J. grabbed their hats off the backs of the chairs and stomped toward the door. “You coming, Dalton?” Sandy asked, plopping his cowboy hat on.
“Be right there.” He nodded for them to go on and then stood next to the fireplace twisting his mustache between his fingers. His gaze pierced Lindy across the room. He watched her intently as Ella handed her a ring of keys and explained what each key went to.
Cole watched Dalton shift from one foot to the other. He’d seen the man as cool as a cadaver while assisting in several emergencies that had arisen on the ranch in the past ten years. The nervous energy he displayed now could only be the result of one thing. Dalton was smitten. Cole eyed Lindy and felt his blood fire when she laughed at something his mom said and tossed her head back.
He sauntered over to Dalton. “I don’t believe there’s anything else we need you for tonight. You’re free to go.”
Tularosa Moon Page 4
