“Who’s Carol-Sue?” Travis asked.
“A character in one of Tori’s books.”
To her daughter, she said, “Everyone’s different. Cindy doesn’t like being called Grandma.”
Rachel caught his eye. “Cindy loves being a grandmother.”
“Gramma loves me.”
“Yes, she does, sweetie-pie, but being called Grandma makes her feel old.”
Vy returned with pots of both regular and decaf, topping up Travis’s mug and filling Rachel’s empty cup.
“Thanks, Vy.”
Tori hummed beside him and colored on her paper place mat with three crayons.
“May I ask you a question?” Rachel asked.
“Go ahead,” he answered. “Won’t guarantee I’ll answer it, but ask away.” He craved privacy, especially after a childhood of being on the receiving end of too much gossip.
“Why would a single man buy that Victorian? I would have pegged you for a ranch house kind of guy.”
“You’d be right about that, but I bought it for my sister and her two sons.”
She smiled suddenly, brilliantly. “That’s okay, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“That house deserves a family. It should be full of children and happiness.”
Her selflessness—she even put a house’s needs before her own!—rattled him, maybe because she accepted her burdens with grace while he itched to be free, with nothing more on his mind than a good ride over a green field.
Even if he wished that he and Sammy had had a mother half as committed as Rachel, resentment bubbled. Was the woman a saint?
“It’s just a house, Rachel.”
She didn’t seem to notice the hard edge to his voice.
The longing, the wistfulness he’d seen in her last night when they talked about his house painted her cheeks pink.
“Children will live there. That’s all that matters.”
A burst of intuition hit him, or maybe it was the slight hint of rancor in her tone.
“Should have been your children? Right?”
“Yeah.” She sounded bitter. “In a perfect world.”
The flash of unhappiness on her face vanished in an instant. The woman was resilient.
“Again, why the Victorian?” she asked. “Why not the Podchuk ranch house? It’s up for sale.”
Not usually a man for introspection, Travis had asked himself that question a hundred times. “I can’t rightly say. It’s old-fashioned. I guess it looks like it could make a nice home.”
She nodded.
He sipped his coffee, then said, “Can I ask you something?”
Rachel nodded.
“How did your husband die?”
“A accident,” the pip-squeak piped up.
He glanced down at the child. Damn. He’d forgotten she was there, or he wouldn’t have asked. “I’m real sorry about that.”
“He rided a motorcycle and wented too fast and hitted a tree.”
Aaaahhh. Hence the deep concern he’d seen on Rachel’s face when he’d tipped his bike yesterday. He’d recognized something more, though. Anger.
“Motorcycles is bad,” Tori said. “Really bad.”
Travis glanced at Rachel but she’d shut down, her hazel eyes blank, as though she’d pulled blinds down. The windows to her soul weren’t sharing anything with him. Both resentment and anger at her late husband churned through Travis. It was all well and good for him to ride, but he didn’t have dependents. Rachel’s husband should have behaved more responsibly.
But was Travis truly free? What about Sammy and his nephews? Now that Sammy’s husband had farted off to the Himalayas to find himself and she had a crook like her former boss on her tail, weren’t she and the boys his responsibility? Wasn’t he the only person they could depend on? Was he being careless when he rode his bike? What if something happened to him? What would Sammy do?
Maybe he’d park it in the garage for a while and just use the truck. Next week, he’d take out a life insurance policy on himself with Sammy as the beneficiary.
Man, why hadn’t he thought to do it months ago?
“Tell me about your sister,” Rachel said.
Travis rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t share, not like Sammy who blurted out every thought.
Still, Rachel seemed genuinely curious, not prying, and not one to spread gossip.
“She’s six years younger than me. Thirty-one. Our Mom died of cancer when she was only twelve. Dad had died the year before. I was eighteen, so she never went to a foster home.”
No need to mention he figured the big C had been floating out in the atmosphere looking for the most tired, sorriest woman around and had found Cerise Read. Once it took hold, she’d succumbed quickly. Dad had died the year before of cirrhosis of the liver.
“But it did mean you were a teenage boy taking care of your sister.” Rachel cut to the heart of the matter. “Must have been hard. No time for yourself, I’m guessing?”
Travis nodded. “It was just the two of us for years until Sammy got married and had her two boys, now nine and five.”
“She and her boys are coming here? Husband, too?”
“Nope. Sammy’s divorced. Her ex is off in a Hindu temple in the Himalayas somewhere.” For all intents and purposes, Travis was their stand-in father.
When their breakfasts came, he dug in, but put down his fork when Rachel reached across the table to cut up Tori’s pancakes.
“Let me,” he said. “It’s easier from this side of the table.”
Having spent time with his nephews, he knew how small to make the pieces and how much syrup to pour on, or how much not to. “My nephews like to drown their pancakes in syrup and their fries in ketchup.”
“Mommy, Travis got sausages. I don’t got sausages.”
“I didn’t order any for you, honey. I didn’t know you would want them. Besides, you won’t be able to finish your pancakes if you have something else with them.”
“Uh-huh. I can. I want sausages.”
“Okay.” Rachel raised her hand to flag the waitress, Vy, but Travis stopped her.
“Why don’t I give her one of mine? She won’t eat a whole order of sausages. If she can’t finish her pancakes, I’ll eat them.”
“You don’t mind?”
“No, ma’am. I’m used to sharing with my nephews.”
“What’s nephews?” the pip-squeak asked while Travis sliced a sausage first lengthwise, then crosswise into small bits and put them on her plate.
Rachel explained the concept of nephews.
“What’s their names?” Tori stuffed two pieces of pancake into her mouth. Travis wiped the syrup from the corners of her lips.
“Jason and Colt.”
“Do they like Carol-Sue books? She gots a dog and a cat.”
Travis smiled. “Somehow I doubt those boys are reading about a girl named Carol-Sue.”
“What are they like?” Rachel asked, and Travis was off and running on his favorite subject outside horses.
He exhausted the subject of his nephews. To her credit, Rachel didn’t look bored. Neither did Tori, who kept asking questions about them. Curious kid.
After breakfast, they stepped out of the restaurant. Remembering last night’s fiasco with Rachel’s dinner, Travis didn’t make the mistake of denting her pride by offering to pay for breakfast. They settled their own bills.
Before Travis could go his own way, the pip-squeak took hold of his hand and started to drag him down Main.
“Travis, come on. I got to show you something.”
“Tori, no,” Rachel protested. “I’m sure Travis has stuff to do.”
“But, Mommy—”
“No, Victoria. Leave Trav
is alone.”
The child looked so crestfallen that Travis asked, “What does she want to show me?”
Rachel sighed. “A pair of boots she wants. She checks every Saturday to make sure they’re still there.”
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s only five minutes out of my day. Where are they?”
Tori saw which direction the conversation was heading and took hold of his hand again. Rachel shrugged. They followed Tori to the window of a shop that sold Western clothes.
Tori let go of him and pressed her hands and nose against the glass.
“My boots,” she whispered, and Travis leaned close.
“Which ones?”
She pointed to a pair of bright pink cowboy boots, probably the tiniest pair he’d ever seen. So damned cute.
“Those sure are pretty cowboy boots.”
“Yeah,” she breathed. “I want them, but Mommy says we don’t got the money.”
He heard Rachel groan behind him. “Thanks for airing all of our secrets, Tori,” she said with a gentle laugh.
“We got to save our money for Beth.” Tori sounded so adult and so accepting that his heart went out to this little girl.
“Your mom is a smart woman,” he said.
They parted ways, with Rachel driving out of town while Travis paid Artie for his truck repairs.
Before returning to his truck, he made one more stop, his feet overtaking his better judgment, but there was a method to his madness.
Yesterday morning on the carousel, Rachel had given him a gift unlike anything he’d had in a long time—five spectacular minutes of freedom from weight and responsibility. He’d been carefree and filled with joy.
He needed to balance the scales. He didn’t like being beholden.
More than that, he hadn’t liked how resigned Rachel’s little girl was already to the realities of life. He remembered the same resignation in Sammy when she was little. Give Tori a few more years, for God’s sake.
He stepped into the store and asked how much the pink boots in the window cost.
The low price surprised him until he saw them up close. They weren’t real leather, but would that matter to a girl who would outgrow them in four or five months?
“You think these might fit a little girl about this tall?” He gestured with his hand in the vicinity of his knees.
“Probably,” the clerk responded. “If they don’t fit, bring them back. No problem.”
He bought them and tossed the bag into the bed of the truck.
Not ten minutes into the drive home, Travis noticed Rachel’s car on the side of the road. Empty. Out in the middle of nowhere.
His gut did a nervous jig. He might not want to care too much, but the woman was pregnant and had a small child with her. He remembered last night’s swollen ankles. If her car had broken down and she was walking, her feet wouldn’t thank her.
In the distance, two dark shadows, one short and the other shorter, trudged toward the horizon. Travis drove on until he came alongside them, slowed and then passed to pull onto the shoulder far enough ahead that he wouldn’t cover them with dust.
He got out of the truck and approached.
He didn’t like the begrudging acceptance on Rachel’s face, a lack of surprise that something had gone wrong for her, or the way Tori’s little feet, clad in pink rubber boots with bright purple flowers, scraped the gravel.
“Car broke down?” he asked.
Rachel nodded.
“We been walking forever, Travis.” Tori’s bottom lip trembled. “Mommy can’t carry me ’cause Beth is in the way.”
Tori spread her hands to be picked up. “Can you carry me?”
“Sure.” He settled her into his arms, her weight, her slim limbs and her tiny wrists fragile compared to his sturdy, rough-and-tumble nephews.
“Any idea what’s wrong with your car?” he asked Rachel.
“Old age. It does this regularly. I’m pretty sure I need to replace the battery.”
“You need to consider getting a new car.”
“Yeah.” Behind him, she sighed.
He settled Tori into the backseat of his truck and strapped her in.
“She’s too tiny to ride without her car seat,” Rachel objected.
He knew that from taking care of his nephews, but they were still a ways away from her home. “We’re not going far. I’ll be careful.”
Rachel climbed into the passenger seat, Travis giving her a gentle boost with a hand to her elbow.
Once behind the wheel, he pulled onto the road and Tori immediately observed, “Travis, you don’t got no music.”
“Don’t have, sweetie,” Rachel corrected.
“I know, Mommy. Travis don’t have no music.”
“Any music.”
“I know. That what’s I’m saying, Mommy. He don’t have any music. Where’s his music?”
Travis laughed, silently, because he didn’t know whether Tori’s emotions were as fragile as her tiny body. He flicked the radio knob and Taylor Swift’s voice filled the cab.
“‘Love Story!’” Tori squealed. A second later, in a high sweet warble, she sang, “‘Baby, just say yes.’”
He shot an amused glance at her mother. “She knows this song?”
“She knows all the Taylor Swift songs. She loves music. We have the radio on in the car all the time.”
Travis studied her tired profile. “You working tonight?”
“Yeah. People are generous on Saturday night. I’ll make good tips.”
He pulled into the driveway directly across from his own. Cindy stepped out of her front door, dressed to kill with sparkles galore on her Western shirt, and made up to within an inch of her life. Travis glanced at his watch. Not quite ten. Must be gearing up for a hot lunch date or something.
“You took my daughter out this morning?”
Travis didn’t miss the bite in Cindy’s tone. “No, ma’am. Her car broke down on the highway. I’m just giving her a lift home.” No sense mentioning they’d actually had breakfast together. Even if it wasn’t by design, Cindy might not like it. He did his best to avoid drama in his life.
He rounded the truck to help Rachel from the passenger seat, but she was already out and lifting Tori from the back.
“Careful!” he admonished.
A rueful grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I can lift her. I just can’t carry her.”
“What are you going to do about your car?”
“Call Artie at the garage and have him tow it.”
That would cost her. “I’m handy with an engine. I’ll take a look at it.”
“I’ve got some sense with engines, too.”
He smiled. “Yeah. The carousel.”
When she answered him with a smile, they seemed to share a sweetness he wasn’t used to. It unnerved him.
It seemed to do the same for her. The smile slowly fell from her lips. “I’m sure it’s just the battery. It’s time for a new one.”
Travis addressed Cindy. “You think you could watch the little one for a minute while I take Rachel back to her car?”
Cindy nodded. “C’mon, Tori. Let’s go inside.”
Rachel climbed back into the truck. When they arrived at her car, Travis popped the hood and retrieved jumper cables from the bed of his truck.
“You’re a regular Boy Scout, aren’t you?”
He checked for sarcasm, but all he noted on her face was appreciation.
“Get in the car and turn it on when I tell you to.”
After he’d lined up the truck with her car, he hooked up the cables to the two batteries and got her car started. He instructed her to drive it for twenty minu
tes before returning home.
“Thanks, but I know that much.”
“Yeah, sorry. I guess you would.”
He leaned his forearms on the open window well of the driver’s door. She smelled like coconuts. Her shampoo, maybe? “You going to be able to catch a nap before you head to work?”
Her smile showcased even white teeth with one slightly crooked eyetooth. The imperfection didn’t detract from her looks. Not at all. Her laugh tinkled on the fresh sunny air. “Not likely.”
She drove away.
He waited until her car disappeared and he was sure the thing was still running before driving home and putting her out of his mind.
Neither she nor her daughter nor her unborn baby were any concern of his.
He changed into work clothes and headed out to the Double U to give Dusty a ride. He brought tools with him and picked up a couple of steel posts from Udall’s supply. He located and repaired the fence where yesterday’s sheep had gotten tangled, pounding the posts deep into the ground. Felt good to have a hammer in his hands again, to use his muscles, to work.
He worried about Rachel.
“Stop it.” His voice echoed across the fields.
Dusty snorted as if in agreement.
“Right,” Travis said. “I need a woman and a couple of kids like I need a hole in the head.”
After a good long ride across the land that left both him and Dusty satisfied, and during which he’d pinpointed a troublesome spot close to a creek, he returned to his house. He made a note to tell Udall where some of his jackleg fence had been flattened by something big. Moose or elk, maybe. It would need to be repaired before the snow set in for the winter, which could be any day now despite the unseasonably mild weather. You just never knew when winter would roar in this close to the Rockies.
He lunched on tuna sandwiches while those tiny pink cowboy boots sat on the sofa, asking him when he was going to give them to the child. What was appropriate?
Confused, he stepped outside and surveyed his land.
His land.
Lord, what a responsibility.
Chapter Six
“Travis,” a tiny voice called from across the road. Tori stood on the front porch of the sorry-looking trailer.
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