Coming Home to You

by Fay Robinson

  She had taken extra care with her makeup and pulled her hair into a practical yet flattering French braid, but here, cowboy hats seemed mandatory, even for the women, and the most popular hairstyle was no style at all. She hadn’t felt this out of place in years.

  She shrugged off her self-consciousness, having learned a long time ago that worrying about being different was even worse than being different. People can’t hurt you unless you give them the power to hurt you. Wise words from a wise man. She had listened and remembered.

  She sidestepped a pile of manure covered with thousands of tiny flies and wished she hadn’t worn open-toed shoes. Wood shavings inadequately covered the dirt floor, which was littered with empty popcorn boxes, cigarette butts and peanut hulls. More than once she’d watched someone spit tobacco juice.

  The place was awful. Why would anyone willingly come here? But they did. Hundreds of them. The crowd was so large near the main entrance Kate could barely move. And then she saw what had attracted everyone: along one wall were tables where vendors sold hand-tooled belts, buckles, hats and clothing.

  Twenty minutes remained until the horse sale began, so she eased through the crowd and walked up and down the aisles admiring the horses, separated from them by the flimsiest of metal fencing. Their bodies glistened with sweat from the heat, which large exhaust fans at each end of the building couldn’t remove. The air hung hot and heavy with moisture, and the rumble of thunder could be heard over the country songs playing over the public-address system.

  She spotted her quarry the same moment he spotted her. Bret Hayes stood at one of the pens talking with two men. His expression instantly turned hard. He said something to the men and stalked toward her.

  “Come with me,” he said, roughly grabbing her elbow.

  “I don’t think I want to.”

  “Too bad.”

  She struggled, but it didn’t do any good. He out-weighed her by at least seventy-five pounds and had arms of steel. As he dragged her from the building into the dark night, her brother’s warning to be careful echoed in her head. For once she wished she’d listened to him.

  “WERE YOU PUT on this earth to drive me insane?”

  In the quiet of the parking lot Bret’s voice came out at a deafening level. He couldn’t believe this annoying woman had tracked him down again. The Saturday night horse sale was one of the few pleasures he had in his life, and he wasn’t about to allow Kathryn Morgan to ruin it like she’d ruined his breakfast.

  She stood at the side of his truck and horse trailer. Bret paced the dirt in front of her, afraid that if he stopped moving he might be tempted to put his hands around that pretty throat and squeeze.

  How had this one tiny woman been able to plunge him into a living hell in less than forty-eight hours? She’d shot holes in what he’d come to think of as a comfortable, if not perfect, life. Like grit, her abrasive personality rubbed him raw.

  He’d bitten back what he wanted to say until he got her away from the crowded barn. But now, at the far end of the dirt lot where the curious couldn’t hear them, Bret released his pent-up anger. He stopped abruptly in front of her and leaned down until their faces were inches apart.

  “What did you think you were doing, following me here? Don’t you have any respect for a person’s privacy? I’ve told you over and over again to leave me alone and you don’t listen.”

  “I wanted to see what a horse sale was like.”

  “The hell you did.”

  “I did!”

  “You expect me to believe you had no idea I was going to be here?”

  “Well…”

  “I thought so.”

  A zigzag of lightning pierced the dark sky, and thunder lumbered across the hills. A few large drops of rain peppered the vehicles and the ground. When the rising wind threatened to whisk away his cowboy hat, Bret reached up with one hand and held it in place.

  “What gives you the right to mess with my life? Do you know what you remind me of? That character in the cartoon that whirls around like a tornado and chews up everything in its path. You eat people alive before they even know what hit them.”

  “That’s not fair! I’m not like that.”

  “Yeah, you are. Ever since you whirled into town, you’ve done everything in your power to make me miserable. Do you think I don’t know you’ve been running around all day asking questions about me, bothering my friends and trying to trick them into telling you something juicy you could use in your book?”

  “Your friends? I’ve got news for you, Hayes. You’re grossly lacking in the friends department. I couldn’t find ten people in this town who could even recall talking to you, much less counting you as a friend.” She poked him in the chest. “And it’s pretty obvious why. You’ve got a personality problem only electric shock could fix.”

  Bret gave her an incredulous look. “You think I’ve got a personality problem? Well, lady, let me tell you something. You’re the most irritating unlikable person I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. You’re annoying. You’re devious. Your mouth stays open so much I’m surprised something hasn’t nested in it by now. You’ve trespassed on my property, ruined my breakfast, followed me around with no purpose but to harass me. You’ve turned my life into a nightmare. And I’ve had enough!”

  Thunder cracked loudly overhead and the rain that had threatened for days finally began to fall in earnest; it came down in torrents to soak the thirsty ground and sent steam rising with a hiss from the hot metal of the trucks and trailers. The dirt parking lot became a swamp in a matter of seconds.

  The woman lifted her hands in a gesture of frustration. “Why am I standing here listening to this?”

  She stomped off muttering loudly to herself, but she hadn’t gone more than a few yards before she slipped and went down in a puddle. The sight of her sprawled on the ground in those white clothes did a great deal to improve Bret’s bad mood. He laughed.

  She crawled back up, flinging mud from both hands, cursing because she’d also broken the heel of her shoe. His amusement deepened her anger, and she turned and threw the shoe at him, missing. She took off the other shoe and threw that, but it missed, as well, making him laugh harder.

  “You have lousy aim, Morgan.”

  She whirled and squished off in the mud. He watched with a satisfied smile as she climbed into her car, cranked it and tried to move, burying her wheels in the slush. The lot was for pickups and trailers with heavy tires, not fancy rental cars.

  Bret grabbed his slicker from the truck and exchanged his hat for a baseball cap that the rain couldn’t ruin. He leaned against the door, folded his arms over his chest and waited for her to ask for help. He was going to enjoy telling her no. She could get a ride from someone else. He wasn’t giving her one.

  When she didn’t get out, he went over and tapped on the window. She opened it slightly and he leaned down and looked in. For once he had the upper hand with this woman, and he intended to take full advantage of it.

  “Ah, Morgan…” She glared at him, and that made him chuckle. “Morgan, you should’ve known better than to park this car down here. I guess common sense isn’t one of your strengths.”

  “Go away.”

  “Better plan on sleeping here, because there’s no way you’re getting out of here tonight, even with a tow truck. Yep, it’s gonna be at least morning before this car’s going anywhere.”

  “Leave me alone!”

  He grinned. “You might find a ride, but that’s pretty dangerous, asking some stranger to take you home. And irritating as you are, you’re likely to get yourself murdered between here and the motel. Now that would be a real shame.”

  His words had the desired effect. She rolled up the window, flung open the door and pushed him out of the way. She stomped to his truck, searched until she found her shoes and put them on. He thought she’d head for the barn, but she limped toward the highway.

  Apparently the woman wasn’t only stupid, she was crazy. Did she plan to walk? The to
wn’s one half-decent motel was three or four miles down the road, but she’d never make it in the dark, in the rain, without good shoes.

  He watched as she passed beneath the last light and the darkness swallowed her. Well, it wasn’t his problem. Maybe after this experience she’d go back home.

  KATE HADN’T GONE far when a dark-colored truck rolled up beside her. No. Not him. Please, not him. She kept walking.

  The passenger window slid down. “Get in, Morgan, and I’ll take you back to the motel.”

  “I’d rather walk.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Get in before you fall and break your neck or get hit.”

  “And deprive you of the pleasure of knowing something bad happened to me?”

  A car came up behind them, swerving to the other lane at the last second. A horn blast conveyed the driver’s anger. Hayes cursed. “Will you get in the truck before we’re both killed?”

  Deciding it was ridiculous to let her anger overrule her good sense, Kate relented and got in the truck. He produced an old flannel shirt with ripped seams.

  “Here, this is headed for the garbage, anyway. You can use it to get some of the mud off you.”

  Kate used the shirt to dry herself as best she could. She undid her braid, bent her head and rubbed the shirt vigorously over her hair. When she lifted her head, she found him watching her. He quickly shifted his gaze back to the road.

  “What did you hope to accomplish by following me tonight?” he asked.

  “To talk to you, for once, without us arguing.”

  “You make it impossible for me to keep my temper.”

  “I seem to have that effect on you.”

  “Because you enjoy creating chaos everywhere you go!”

  “Are you going to start yelling at me again? Because if you are, you can stop this truck right now and let me out. I’m wet. I’m covered with mud. I’m cold. I’m not going to sit here in misery while you tell me again how horrible I am when I’m simply trying to do my job. And for your information, nothing has ever tried to nest in my mouth.”

  He reached down and turned on the heater. Warmth poured into the cab, pushing back the slight chill she felt from being in wet clothes.

  “Thank you,” she said begrudgingly.

  “You’re welcome,” he answered curtly.

  They continued in silence until Kate couldn’t stand it anymore. “Look, I’m really not trying to turn your life into a nightmare. I’m only trying to get information that’s very important to my book. The people at the feed store and the hardware store agreed the best places to catch you were here or at Pine Acres, so I tried here first. I thought it would be less intrusive than my showing up unannounced at the children’s ranch, and I really did want to see what a horse sale was like.”

  “You’ve been even busier than I thought. Did you interview everyone in town?”

  “No, just the ones I could trick into telling me something juicy about you,” she quipped, repeating the accusation he had made against her earlier.

  A fleeting grin crossed his face but was quickly replaced with his usual sour expression. “I don’t doubt that.”

  “Do you want to know what I found out about you?”

  “That I’m a candidate for electric shock?”

  Kate forced herself not to smile. Well, well, the man had a sense of humor. “Besides that.”

  “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  “That you’re either a saint or a pretty good actor.”

  “Oh, why’s that?”

  She turned in the seat so she could better talk to him. “Your old high-school classmates remember you as a guy only interested in making a fast buck. Yet the few friends you’ve made here, like Emma Lang at the library and Mr. Harper at the feed store, talk about you with great affection. Miss Emma said you donated a hundred thousand dollars to renovate the children’s area, and I went by and took a look at the new playgrounds you had built at the elementary and middle schools. Apparently you’ve also set up some kind of free dental program for low-income children.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it. Did James’s death really change you that much? What happened to that guy who used to think only of himself?”

  “Why is this any of your business?”

  “Agh!” she said, frustrated. “Where did you learn to be so stubborn?”

  She thought he actually smiled then. “The same place you learned to be so relentless.”

  “Hayes, even relentless and stubborn people know when to compromise. Can’t I talk you into letting me interview you?”

  “No. I don’t even like you.”

  “You don’t have to like me. The book is for James’s benefit, not mine.”

  “Go home, Morgan. You’re wasting your time here.”

  They reached the motel and he parked his pickup with its long trailer at the side of the building. He started to get out, but she leaned over and grabbed his arm.

  “Don’t you even care what I write about you in this book, what people think about Bret Hayes?”

  He hesitated, but then said, “No. I don’t care.”

  “People believe you resented James’s success and coveted what he had.”

  “Do they really think that?”

  “Yes, they do. Is it true?”

  “No, Morgan, I never resented him or his success.”

  “You didn’t want to be him?”

  Pain flashed across his face. “Yes,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “In the six years since he died, I’ve wished a thousand times I could change places with him.”

  THE RAIN STOPPED and the dark clouds that obscured the moon thinned until only a few raced across its silver surface. The neon sign above the motel office buzzed like a giant insect, its bright colors reflecting on the wet pavement, creating a surreal atmosphere.

  The parking lot was empty but for a single car. Raucous laughter and music coming from the tavern across the road explained why the rooms were all dark and the motel seemed deserted.

  Hayes had been silent since his revelation, afraid perhaps of having said too much. And his words had been revealing, telling Kate two things she hadn’t known before: He’d loved his brother. And he still suffered from his death.

  She took out her room key and opened the door. When she turned to look up at him, she felt uncharacteristically tongue-tied and strangely sad. She wished she could think of something profound to say, but the only thing that came out was, “Well…thanks for the ride.”

  He nodded.

  She started to offer him her hand, decided it was a foolish gesture and withdrew it. “See you around, Hayes.”

  “Not if I can help it, Morgan,” he countered, making her chuckle.

  He crossed the parking lot, hands pushed deep in the front pockets of his jeans. Kate watched him go with an unexplainable sense of loss. When he had almost reached the corner of the building, she called out, “I met Jamie once, you know.”

  He stopped and turned. “What?”

  She walked from under the shadow of the overhanging metal canopy out into the moonlight where he could see her and she wouldn’t have to shout.

  “I said, I met your brother once. It was years ago, and although I only got to spend a few hours with him, I’ve never forgotten it. I was a scared kid trying to survive in a tough college program with people who were a lot older than me and resented my being there. Jamie was kind to me. He made me feel good about myself.”

  Hayes didn’t say anything.

  “I wanted you to know that,” she added, “so you’d understand why it’s important to me to write a truthful account of his life. This book finally gives me the chance to pay him back for his kindness that day.”

  Hayes stood quietly, motionless for a long time, then nodded slowly and raised his hand in farewell. She raised hers. He turned and walked away.

  Kate went into her room and closed the door. A hot bath would feel good. So would going home. Until that moment she hadn’t known she was going home. But without hop
e of an interview, she really had no reason to stick around. Hayes wasn’t willing to cooperate. He’d made that perfectly clear.

  Taking off her dirty clothes, she wrapped herself in a red silk robe. She was about to check her messages when a hard knock sounded at the door. She looked through the peephole and her stomach turned a somersault. Despite her disheveled appearance, she unlocked the door and jerked it open.

  “Can you ride a horse?” Hayes asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Be ready at one o’clock tomorrow and wear something practical.” He wheeled abruptly, walked out to his idling truck and drove away.

  Kate closed the door and leaned against it. “Well, I’ll be…” She squealed with glee. Then a thought suddenly struck her and her glee changed to horror. Oh, no! Where, between now and one o’clock tomorrow, was she going to learn to ride a horse?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “YOU LIED to me, Morgan,” Bret said, hands on his hips. The blasted woman couldn’t even sit on the horse without looking like she was about to fall off. “You don’t know the front end of a horse from the back.”

  “I most certainly do. The front end is the one that bites, and the back end is the one that…doesn’t.”

  The children sitting atop the fence at Pine Acres giggled. They watched as the woman attempted to ride around the large corral without mishap. Every time the horse trotted, she shrieked, Bret lost his temper and the children got more amused. Twice she’d almost taken a tumble.

  “Hang in there, Miss Kate. You’re gettin’ it,” shouted twelve-year-old Kevin.

  Bret shook his head, not believing what he’d just heard. The boy hadn’t said that many words in the six months since he’d arrived at the ranch.

  Surprisingly, all the kids were animated today. Morgan’s antics were the cause, and that made Bret feel a little better about his insane decision to bring her. None here could claim a happy childhood, but this bunch from Dorm K, they’d had it rougher than most. Tom, seventeen, had lost his family in a freak accident. Melissa, thirteen, and LaKeisha, nine, had been abandoned by teenage mothers. Shondra, seven, had been abused from the time she was born, as had Kevin. The twins, Adam and Keith, also seven, had seen their father kill their mother, and little Henry, who’d recently turned two, had almost been a murder victim himself.