One day when she’d been out playing in the yard past ten o’clock, the woman had come out. “Go on inside, girl. Or your mama will worry.”
She’d wished Mama would worry. She’d wished she’d even notice. “I don’t matter to my mama,” she’d said. It was the truth. Nothing had mattered to Mama except her drugs.
Ruby James had marched to the sidewalk where she was sitting on Grady’s skateboard. “Your mama might be lost right now, Katie, but that don’t change the fact that you matter. Every person matters. Especially the people who have it the hardest. They’re most important, you understand me?”
She shook her head no. She didn’t understand that at all. She wasn’t important to anyone, not really.
Ruby James had knelt down in front of her, the woman’s gnarled fingers tipping up her little chin. “You’re the one who’ll change this world, Katie,” she’d said. “You’re the one who’ll use that hurt in your heart to heal someone else’s.”
Though her seven-year-old mind couldn’t fully comprehend those words, they’d sunk into her, engraved a purpose into her heart.
Now, nineteen years later, here she was hanging out with kids who had backgrounds just like hers, kids who wondered if they mattered.
And Sawyer was about to make them feel like they didn’t.
He was determined, and now so was she. She’d find out who was behind the thefts herself. She had no idea how, but she’d show Sawyer that Javon had nothing to do with it.
Resolve rose up and steadied her enough to march up the porch steps. She unlocked the front door and slipped inside, bracing herself for Nellie’s exuberant welcome celebration. Though she’d swung by twice during that day to check on the dog and let her out, you would’ve thought she’d been gone for a decade. Yipping madly the fluffy bundle of joy bounded over to the door, her whole backside wagging with excitement.
“Hey, girl.” She knelt and let the dog jump into her arms. Nellie lavished kisses on her face, only proving that a dog could make everything in the world seem better. “Are you hungry?” She stooped to place the dog back on the floor and Nellie jumped around her, crying and leaping for joy.
“Let’s get you some food, little sweetie,” Ruby said over the noise, then dropped her purse on the couch and went to the kitchen to dish out the canned food the clerk at the drugstore had insisted was the best. “There you go, love.” She set the dish on the floor and the dog went at it snarfing and snorting until there wasn’t a morsel left.
“Wow. You were hungry, weren’t you?” She scooped up Nellie again and brought the dog to the backyard, peeking out first to make sure Elsie wasn’t home. What would the woman think if she knew Ruby’d gotten a pet without asking? Guilt skittered through her. She’d tell her. Eventually. Or maybe she’d start looking for her own place. Until then she had to make the dog’s bathroom time a convert operation.
The windows next door were dark, so she stepped outside and set Nellie on the grass.
The night air was cool, thick with an uncharacteristic humidity. Though the duplex sat in the middle of town, an echoing quietness made it so peaceful. The multitude of stars glimmered overhead, reminding her of the night before, when she and Sawyer had kissed on the porch swing. It played back again like a fairy tale. She never dreamed she’d be wrapped in someone like Sawyer’s arms, kissing on a quaint front porch while the stars winked their approval from above. She’d let her past label her as damaged goods, let it steal the hope of a stable, beautiful future. Her eyes closed, sealing her in an empty darkness. Would it? Would her past always taint her future?
It didn’t have to.
The realization popped her eyes open. Like Sawyer had said, everyone was damaged. People overcame it all the time. Look at Bryce. His first wife had died. He was an alcoholic. But now he and Avery were so happy, starting a family, living a life he probably hadn’t dreamed he would find, either.
Courage flickered. Maybe it was possible. Maybe she could find a way to put the past to rest.
Ruby watched Nellie trot back to her feet. The dog jumped and put her front paws on her leg.
“What do you think, girl?” She knelt in the soft grass, scratching behind Nellie’s ears until the dog went limp. “Can I do it? Can I let go so I can move—”
Headlights cut through her vision. On the other side of the house, a car drove slowly down the street.
Her heart stopped for a second before her pulse accelerated. It was time to go inside. Before anyone saw the dog. “Come on, Nellie,” she called, smacking her thigh. “Let’s go.”
Nellie bounded up the porch steps as though going inside was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. Ruby grinned. It was definitely therapy to have a dog around.
“You’re a sweet one.” She plopped onto the couch and the dog jumped right into her lap, nestling down, slumping over so Ruby could pet her belly. “Want to watch Dogs with Jobs, Nellie?”
The dog licked her cheek in a hearty yes.
Just as Ruby grabbed the remote, the doorbell chimed.
Her hand froze on the dog’s back.
Nellie nudged her hand, begging for another scratch, but Ruby slowly stood. No one ever dropped by to see her. Well, except for Sawyer. Had he come to apologize? To finish their argument?
Nell whimpered, then started to yip, but Ruby gently put a hand against the dog’s snout. “Shhh.” She scooped up Nellie and hurried to her bedroom, closing the dog securely in her walk-in closet. “Hang tight, sweet girl,” she called as she went back to answer the door.
Heart clattering, she unlocked the dead bolt and opened it a crack.
Not Sawyer. Definitely not Sawyer. No. It was the mean man from down the street. The owner of her stolen dog…
Ruby exhaled her fear, a protective instinct making her feel taller, stronger. She glared at the man, who looked to be in his mid-sixties with a rim of white hair and a permanent scowl etched into his weathered skin.
“Can I help you?” she asked, making sure to look bored by his sudden appearance.
“I’m looking for my dog,” he growled. “Nell. You seen her?”
“Nope.” Ruching up her shoulders she opened the door all the way so he could glance around the room. Thank god she’d straightened up and put all of Nellie’s toys in the front closet.
Grayish watery eyes narrowed at her. “You sure about that?” he asked as though he knew she was lying.
“Yep.” She combated a rush of heat to her face with a shrug. “I’m sure. I mean, I haven’t been home much, but I’ll keep an eye out.” She forced a polite smile, praying the man wouldn’t see through it.
He grumbled out his address. “Let me know if you see her.”
“Of course,” she called as he lumbered down the porch steps and into the darkness. She closed the door, latching it tight again.
Hurrying to the window she watched the man stop in front of her house, looking carefully at her front yard. Then he finally turned and continued on his way.
A yip came from the bedroom. “I’m coming, Nellie.” Ruby rushed to the closet and set the dog free. “Everything’s okay.” She lifted the dog into her arms and planted a kiss on Nellie’s forehead. “I promise I’ll never let him hurt you,” she whispered.
“You’re the one who’ll use that hurt in your heart to heal someone else’s.” Miss James’s words had never been so real.
Together she and Nellie were healing each other’s hearts. And maybe someday the past would no longer matter.
* * *
Ruby slid the muffin tray into the oven and straightened. Wiping her hands on her apron, she glanced at the clock. She had exactly twenty minutes to do a little detective work and search for some evidence before Sawyer confronted the kids during breakfast.
Even though Elsie had offered her the morning off since she’d put in so much time with the kids, she knew getting there before everyone else would have its advantages. It would give her the opportunity to look around in the one place she suspect
ed she might find the real criminal behind the thefts. Since she always woke up at four-thirty anyway, she figured it didn’t matter much. She never slept in anymore. She never broke into buildings, either, but Sawyer hadn’t exactly given her a choice, now, had he? He’d called her last night and left a message, apologizing for scaring her and also informing her that he was planning to talk to the kids during breakfast. Before he went in for a shift and they left for their horseback-riding excursion with Paige and Shooter. He wanted her to be there, he’d said. But hopefully she could find something to divert Sawyer’s attention away from the kids so he wouldn’t have to confront them at all.
It’s now or never. Pulling the apron over her head, Ruby darted to the back door and hung it on a hook. Glancing outside, she made sure the coast was clear before she dashed down the stairs and across the dew-laden grass until she’d made it to the path that led to the maintenance shed. The air was cold enough to chill her cheeks and hands. Small clouds of steam rose from her mouth. The early-morning haze made the whole thing feel very cloak and dagger, which caused her heart to thump against her ribs. It wouldn’t look good if she got caught sneaking around, but if she could find any piece of evidence it would be worth it.
With the day dawning all around her, she hurried past the stables to the large barnlike structure where they kept the extra equipment—rafts and maintenance tools and backpacking equipment. Sure enough, the shed was dark. Actually “shed” wouldn’t be the most accurate description. It was more like a sturdy outbuilding, all winterized and insulated, with indoor plumbing, too. At least that was the rumor. She’d never actually had a reason to go into the maintenance shed.
Not that she wouldn’t be allowed to, right? She did work at the ranch, after all, and she had a master key.
Glancing around, she crept to a side door and peered in through a dingy window. As far as she knew, the only ones who spent any time in here were the maintenance guys, Yates and Timmons, who were so part-time she’d only seen them once in the past month. And Shooter, who was full-time between maintenance, running the stables, and helping out as a guide when required. Not that she knew him well, either. He’d hit on her a few times before he’d gotten the hint that she wasn’t looking for a fling. Once she’d made that clear, he’d ignored her, which was more than fine with her, seeing as how he wasn’t exactly her type.
Lifting a hand to the doorknob she tried to open it. Locked. Quickly she dug the master key out of her pocket and fit it into the lock. The old knob creaked and stuck, but finally opened.
With a look over her shoulder, she rushed inside, her flats slipping on the concrete floor, and closed the door behind her, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness.
The place stunk. Horse manure, dust, grime, grease. The scents were so powerful she could almost taste them. A few windows up high let in just enough sunlight for her to see. She passed rows of odd machine parts, some rusted and broken, others whole and shiny. Then she walked past the ATVs and plows and headed for a door at the back. That had to be the office.
It wasn’t locked. Heart racing, she pushed through and left it open, not liking how isolated she felt, how vulnerable. A row of lockers hung along the back wall with names on them. Timmons, Yates, Shooter. There was a desk, cluttered with paper and screwdrivers and a few other small tools she didn’t recognize. She glanced at her watch. Twelve minutes until her timer went off, until the muffins were done, and until it was a good bet that Shooter would be around. He usually came in around seven, unless he’d been out drinking the night before. But she probably wouldn’t be that lucky.
Pulse hammering in her temples, she darted to the lockers and popped open the first one. If someone stole the money, maybe there’d be something. A stash of cash, a receipt for something expensive. She wasn’t dumb enough to think they’d be hiding the cash here, but maybe she’d get lucky. Rumor had it that both Yates and Timmons had been in trouble before. A couple of DUIs. Drunk and disorderlies. So they were the most likely place to start.
Quickly she rummaged through the mound of junk in Timmons’s locker. A sweatshirt, a belt…underwear? She dropped the rumpled plaid boxer shorts hoping she’d never discover whether they were dirty or clean. What…did the guy store his dirty laundry in his work locker? Her hands felt contaminated. Carefully she pillaged through some papers—pay stubs—then a small zippered pouch, which turned out to contain ChapStick and hand lotion. No wonder he didn’t want the rest of the boys to see his fruity ChapStick and hand lotion.
That was it, though. No money. No receipts. No evidence of Avery’s bracelet.
She was just about to pop open Yates’s locker when the barn door burst open. She froze, eyes darting for anything that would give her an excuse for being in the maintenance office when no one else was around.
Footsteps thudded closer.
Screwdriver. She quickly swiped one off the desk and bolted out of the office door, nearly running over Shooter in the process.
“Holy shit, Ruby!” His hands went up. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Heat lashed her face but she smiled. “Sorry about that.” Fear clawed at the words, tearing them apart. She so wasn’t cut out for breaking and entering.
“What’re you doing in here?” His eyes narrowed and in the dim light the sheer bulk of him made him look the slightest bit dangerous.
“I was looking for this,” she managed, holding up the screwdriver, praying he wouldn’t see it tremble in her hand. “The mixer broke.” The lie made her wince. Elsie always said one lie started an avalanche of untruths. Boy did she know that to be fact.
Shooter half laughed, the lines of suspicion smoothing from his face. “You’re gonna fix the mixer?” With a martyred sigh, he swiped the screwdriver out of her hand. “What is it with women these days? Never want a man’s help with anything, do ya? Too proud to ask for it.”
“Ha-ha.” She coughed out a fake laugh. “I didn’t want to bother you, that’s all. I know how busy you are.”
“It’s no bother.” He sauntered a step closer, all swagger and confidence, though he didn’t have much to brag about. He was a big guy, well over six feet, and hefty, too. But looks-wise he reminded her of a younger redheaded Jack Black.
“It’s my job. I actually like fixing things,” he said, bouncing his eyebrows as though that should entice her for some reason. “I can fix all kinds of things—”
“Oh! The muffins!” She’d forgotten. Hopefully they weren’t burned by now. She dodged around him and ran for the door.
“I’ll stop by the kitchen later,” Shooter called after her.
“Great!” she yelled back, then escaped, lungs heaving, sweat itching on her forehead. Lordy, was she in a mess.
She’d better get back up to the kitchen and break that mixer before Shooter found out she’d been lying.
Chapter Twenty-One
Well, shit. This was a hell of a lot harder than he thought it’d be. From the safety of the sitting room, Sawyer surveyed the kids, who were already sitting around the long table just past the fireplace in the dining room. The next ten minutes would be more painful than a switchblade twisted into his gut.
Ruby’s arguments from last night still hazed over his thoughts. Would a confrontation really ruin their entire ten days at the ranch? She’d been where these kids were, so she should know. But what choice did he have?
One of them might’ve needed the cash. He didn’t doubt that. He heard stories all the time about foster kids who were basically on their own, their parents simply pocketing the state’s money. But that didn’t change the fact that stealing would get them into a hell of a lot of trouble. Sure, a thousand dollars might not be much, but if one of these kids was responsible, they had to learn a lesson now or things would only get worse.
So while the whole thing made him feel like an ass, he trudged into the dining room and sat at the head of the table. “Hey, everyone,” he said as if nothing was different. Except he knew everything was about to change.
“What’s up, copper?” Javon said, while a few of the other kids smiled and waved. They were busy eating. Aunt Elsie had just filled their plates with some type of egg casserole dish. His plate was full, too, but he wasn’t hungry. He pushed it away.
“Where’s Ruby?” Brooklyn asked him. Her thick, dark lashes made her eyes so innocent. Another pang of regret gouged him. “Not sure.” He should go find her. He needed her here for this. Aunt Elsie said she’d been in earlier, but she must’ve gone out to run an errand. She’d probably decided to avoid him until he left for Denver. Wouldn’t surprise him after last night. He flicked a glance at his watch. He’d have to figure out how to patch things up with her later. Half an hour until he had to head to the station, so he couldn’t keep putting this off.
“Hey, gang.” He let his voice slip into the official police officer tenor that always seemed to grab people’s attention. “We need to talk.”
Sure enough, the room quieted, well, minus the throbbing of his heart. God, he hated this.
“Is everything okay?” Neveah asked, her face white with fear. She likely got scared any time an adult approached her with a serious conversation because it usually ended with her being uprooted again.
His shoulders felt like lead, but it was too late to turn back now. To stall, he lifted his mug and sipped the coffee Aunt Elsie had poured for him, but the kids’ round, worried eyes forced him to put down the mug and get to the point.
Heart of Rockies 03 - More Than a Feeling Page 18
