“Yes he is,” Sandi said. “I’ve put up with him for seven years. That makes us married. Common-law husband and wife.”
Charlie felt a stab of sympathy for Nate. What kind of miserable, empty relationship did the two of them have?
“I thought you left,” she said. “I thought you guys broke up.”
“He might have thought so, but he was wrong,” Sandi said. “I’m not done with him yet.”
Chapter 33
Taylor was sitting at the kitchen table when Nate came in from the barn. The actor was finishing off a bowl of the sugary cereal Charlie had insisted on providing for the duration of the clinic. She’d claimed everybody enjoyed reliving their childhood once in a while, and she’d been right. The sugary treats had made serving breakfast a whole lot easier, and infinitely more PETAfied. No eggs, no bacon, no animal products except for milk. Just Fruit Loops, Frosted Flakes, and an assortment of sliced fruit.
“Wife okay?” Taylor slurped up a spoonful of pink-tinted milk.
“She’s not my wife.” Nate kept his voice low. “Though she might tell you different. But, hey, I wanted to talk to you.”
Taylor wiped his mouth, then folded his napkin in half and laid it beside his bowl. “You got the wrong guy,” he said. “You want advice about girls, you’re better off asking just about anybody else.”
“It’s not about girls,” Nate said. “It’s about real estate.”
Taylor lifted his eyebrows. “You’re selling the place?” He looked stunned, as if he hadn’t been fishing for a deal the day before, and Nate wondered if the actor’s offer had been serious. Maybe he didn’t really want to buy the ranch. Maybe the guy was all talk.
“Yeah, I am. I have to,” Nate said. He pulled out the chair across from Taylor and sat down, folding his hands on the table. “Sandi wants her share, and she’s taking Sam to Denver either way. I need to move closer.”
“Nice to know she has her daughter’s welfare in mind,” Taylor said dryly.
“Well, I do,” Nate said. “So Sam will be okay. And Sandi thinks it would be better for her to grow up someplace more civilized.”
“And what do you think?” Taylor asked.
“Well, I don’t know about civilization,” Nate said. “Seems to me what few people there are out here are a whole lot more civilized than the folks in Denver. You know they have ‘drug-free zones’ around the schools? Makes you wonder about the rest of the town.” He shook his head. “But I’ll tell you, there’s not much of a hospital here. I mean, if Sam had been hurt like Sandi was, I wouldn’t want to have to drive an hour just to get to a hospital. And I wouldn’t want to trust her to the doctors here either. Doc Rafferty drinks, and his partner’s just incompetent.”
“It’s good enough for Sandi, though,” Taylor said, suppressing a smile.
“Kids are more fragile,” Nate said. “You don’t want to take risks.”
“That little spitfire of yours is tougher than any of us,” Taylor said. “She’s not afraid of anything.”
“That’s part of the problem,” Nate said. “Sandi doesn’t want her around the horses. Says she’s not careful enough. Especially with Junior being the way he is.”
“Junior’s not the problem and you know it,” Taylor said. “Besides, that kid handles animals a lot better than her mom handles anything.”
Nate looked away, his jaw working. Taylor was right. Sam was good for the animals, and the animals were good for her. Junior would never hurt Sam, because Sam knew her way around horses—and she knew enough to stay away from the stallion until her dad had worked with him some more.
But Sandi was scared, and she’d always wanted a different kind of life for Sam. She wanted her to live in what she called a proper house, and if he sold the ranch, she’d be able to buy one. Something in a neighborhood near Denver, with other kids for Sam to play with. Kids needed that—or at least, that’s what Sandi said.
And Sandi had always been the boss where Sam was concerned. After all, she was the kid’s mom. Carried her in her body for nine months. Sandi always said Sam was a part of her, so she knew what was best for her.
But lately, Nate was starting to wonder. Sandi seemed to want Sam to be her own little mini-me—a carbon copy of her own perfectly groomed, fashionably dressed self. And that wasn’t Sam. Not at all.
Of course, that was Nate’s fault. The way Sandi told it, you’d have thought he’d kidnapped the kid every morning and dragged her out to the stables kicking and screaming. Sandi just couldn’t face the fact that Sam had always chosen to go with him. That she loved the ranch life. That she belonged there.
But none of that mattered. Not to Sandi. She’d laid down the law, and Nate was going to have to toe the line.
Toe the line, or lose Sam.
“Why don’t you just sell half of it?”
Nate shook his head. “I can’t. One half has the house and barn and the stream. The other half’s pretty much desert—worthless on its own without the water.” He sighed. “Besides, shuttling Sam back and forth over that distance would just be wrong. Sandi wants her to go to school in Denver, so if I don’t move closer, I’ll only have her every other weekend. Maybe a month in the summer.”
“So you’re moving to Denver? What are you going to do with yourself?” Taylor asked. “Get a desk job?”
“No way.” Nate shook his head, suppressing a shudder. “I’ll try and get one of those little ranchettes in the suburbs with my half the money from the ranch,” he said. “That way I can hang onto some of the horses, teach kids to ride, maybe do some clinics—just on a smaller scale.” He relaxed his shoulders, thinking of the one positive thing in all this. “The good part is, I’m thinking maybe I can talk Charlie into moving there. She could maybe find work in Denver. Or finish school there, or whatever.”
“Did you ask her?”
Nate sucked in a deep breath and looked down at his hands. “Not yet. But I’m going to do my best to talk her into it.”
“That’s the one smart thing you’ve said so far,” Taylor said.
“Yeah.” Nate looked down at his lap, then shifted in his chair and looked directly at Taylor for the first time that morning. “So do you want it?” he asked.
“The ranch?”
Nate nodded, then held his breath, waiting for Taylor’s answer. If all his talk about buying the ranch had been just that—talk—it could take a year for Nate to sell the place. A year apart from Sandi and Sam. A year where Sandi would maybe meet someone else, force a stepdad into Sam’s life. If he had to stay on the ranch, Nate wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on his daughter.
Anything could happen.
He flushed, realizing the actor was watching his face. Sandi always knew what he was thinking, and sometimes he thought everyone else could see through him just as easy.
“You’re getting jacked, aren’t you?” Taylor eased back in his chair with the confidence of a man who had the whole situation figured out. “She’s making you sell the ranch, or she’ll take the kid.”
Nate didn’t answer.
“Fight her,” Taylor said. “Sam’s your child too. You have a say in her future.”
Nate shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“You do,” Taylor insisted.
Nate shook his head again. “No.” His throat tightened. “I don’t have any rights at all. Sandi says Sam’s not mine.”
Chapter 34
Charlie straightened a sheet and swept a few crumbs off the corner of a nightstand, then stood back and surveyed the bunkhouse. Cleaning was really Sandi’s job, but Charlie knew she wasn’t fit company for horse or human. She figured she’d better keep busy or she’d start screaming and throwing things. She didn’t know what had happened between Nate and Sandi, but whatever it was, it had gone Sandi’s way.
And that had to be bad news.
She took a deep breath and headed for the corral. Class had apparently started for the day. Doris was up on her buckskin, trotting figure eights while Nate to
ssed out instructions and the rest of the class watched. Taylor and Phaedra stood side by side.
Spotting her, Taylor whispered something in Phaedra’s ear, then strolled over. His interactions with his daughter had grown easy, natural. The guy was turning into a real father. And Phaedra had suddenly turned back into… Phaedra. She was decked out in full Goth regalia, with pale makeup accentuating the dark rims around her eyes.
“Looks like the Cowgirl of Death has been resurrected,” Charlie said.
Taylor grinned. “Yeah, and believe it or not, I’m glad. She kept wearing the same outfit, and when I asked her why, she said she didn’t have anything ‘appropriate.’ Just school stuff, she said. When I pushed her, she admitted she’d ‘cleaned up’ for me.”
“Yeah, that bothered me,” Charlie said.
“Bothered me too.” He shook his head. “Her mother used to change identities like a chameleon changes colors.” He scowled. “The whole time we were together, she dressed like a dudette in all these crazy cowgirl duds. She tried to convince everybody she was a gen-u-wine range-ridin’ cowgirl, even though she’d never been on a horse in her life. Then after we broke up, she started dating a singer from some band and did the whole grunge thing—flannel shirts, ripped jeans, the works. When she moved on to a producer, it was all red carpet gowns and designer stuff.”
“Ugh,” Charlie said.
“Exactly. I don’t want my daughter changing to please some man—not even if the man is me. I might think she looks better without all that goop, but she has a right to express who she is. Her mother was pretty much willing to sell her soul to the highest bidder. And her mom—Phaedra’s granny—was a socialite, all diamonds and furs, with a husband who looked like a troll. We’re ending that cycle right here, right now.”
“Good for you,” Charlie said. She thought of her own mother, battling issues of abandonment and betrayal and passing her fears down to Charlie herself. She knew all about cycles.
“Sandi about had a fit when she saw Phaedra this morning.” Taylor mopped his forehead. “Wanted to give her a makeover. I put my foot down, and I swear to God the woman growled at me.”
Charlie almost smiled for the first time that day. “You don’t like Sandi, do you?”
Taylor grimaced and shook his head. “I like Nate. And I don’t like what she’s doing to him.”
“What’s she doing to him?”
“What pretty women always do to a man,” Taylor said. “Manipulating him to get what she wants.”
“What’s she after?” Charlie asked.
“His everlasting soul,” Taylor said. “She’s making him sell the ranch.”
Charlie laughed. She couldn’t help herself. The idea that anyone could tear Nate away from any part of this land was ludicrous. Sandi wouldn’t get her way this time, that was for sure.
She felt suddenly hopeful. Maybe the woman would get a clue and leave. Things would never work between her and Nate. Not until she accepted the stone-hard fact that he was, and always would be, a cowboy.
A stupid, stick-in-the-mud, stubborn cowboy. A week before, that fact had made Charlie want to toss her cookies. Now it made her want to stand up and cheer.
If Sandi thought Nate would sell the ranch, she was bound to be disappointed. And then she’d leave. And then…
And then Charlie would have to go home, and that would be the end of it. But at least she wouldn’t have to think of Nate snared in Sandi’s web for the rest of his life.
“He won’t do it,” she said. “She’ll never talk him into it.”
“I think she’s about got it done,” Taylor said.
Charlie waved him away. “He won’t sell the ranch. He can’t. It’s part of him, and it’s part of Sam too.” She shook her head. “He’ll never go for it. She might as well ask him to cut off his—well, you know.”
Taylor set his lips in a thin grim line. “He offered to sell it to me this morning,” he said. “I’m thinking about accepting. Starting up a sanctuary for abused horses.” He looked down at Charlie’s shocked face. “You want a job?”
Charlie shook her head and quirked a smile.
“Yeah, I know. Your future’s not with me,” he said, smiling like he could see something good in front of her. She felt a sudden burst of affection for the man. For all his fame and wealth, he was really a nice, down-to-earth guy. A nice, down-to-earth but totally deluded guy.
“Look, I don’t want to burst your bubble, but you might need to hold off on your plans,” Charlie said. “I think you’re jumping the gun. Nate won’t sell the ranch. No way. He wouldn’t…”
Her voice faltered as she caught sight of Nate standing at the corral gate. He was staring off across the prairie toward the horizon, where a faint line of blue hinted at mountains in the distance. His face wore such a naked look of sorrow that Charlie suddenly knew, sure as if Nate had admitted it himself, that what Taylor was saying was true.
“No way,” she whispered. “How could he? How could he?”
“I guess she’s got him,” Taylor said. “She may not have asked him to cut ’em off, but the woman’s definitely got that boy’s balls in a vise.”
***
Charlie leaned against the bunkhouse wall and watched the setting sun paint the sky with gleaming strokes of coral and gold. For a city girl, the unobstructed view across the prairie made the evening light show a spectacular treat. Only the dark form of the barn and the silhouette of a cowboy standing at the paddock gate obscured the sky.
Nate was utterly motionless. He’d taken his hat off and was holding it over his heart, watching the sunset as if he was trying to absorb it into his soul.
“Seems like your cowboy’s going to ride off into that sunset soon if you don’t stop him,” Doris said, plopping down beside Phaedra on the bunkhouse steps. “Why’nt you go talk to him, Charlie?”
“About what?” Charlie kicked a stone and sent it skittering across the path. “He looks to me like a man who’s made up his mind.”
“Or had it made up for him.”
“If Sandi’s got that much power over him, I can’t help him.” Charlie sighed. “This place is everything to him—and to Sam. I thought he cared.”
“He does.” Doris nodded sharply. “So there must be something going on.”
“What? What’s going on?” Phaedra asked. Her eyes were fixed on the spectacular sunset, and she sounded like a girl awakening from a dream.
“Nothin’, honey.” Doris said. “Nothin’ important.”
Charlie smiled down at the teenager. The ranch was good for Phaedra in the same way it was good for Sam. What would life be like for Phaedra if Taylor bought the ranch?
Better. Much better.
And if Taylor bought the ranch, his financial resources would turn it into a thriving operation. He’d be able to save hundreds of horses like Junior, where Nate could only rescue a few. And best of all, Taylor’s celebrity would bring the place a ton of publicity, turning a spotlight on the plight of abused and aging horses.
Maybe she should just keep her mouth shut. Walk away. Let it happen.
But Taylor could buy some other ranch. In fact, Taylor could probably buy any ranch he wanted.
Charlie watched Nate prop one foot on the bottom rail of the fence and rest his arms on the top. Something about the way he was standing—the slump of his shoulders, the loose, hopeless way his arms were draped over the fence—twisted her heart and wrung it out, flooding her body with memories of the night they’d spent together. Her nerve endings twitched and wriggled, sending frantic messages to her brain. Touch him, they said. Talk to him. She could ignore those urges, but her heart joined in with a message of its own. Help him.
The dry grass crunched under her boots as she made her way across the yard. It was only mid-June, and already what little vegetation had managed to withstand the glare of the summer sun was crisp and nearly dead. How did he manage to make a go of ranching in this climate, anyway? It had to take incredible determination. He must ha
ve survived droughts, storms that destroyed the hay crop, horses going lame or getting sick—but he’d persevered through every difficulty fate threw his way.
So why was he giving up now?
Doris was right. Something was going on.
Charlie leaned on the fence beside Nate and watched the mustangs pluck at the scant grass, but she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. Maybe she was turning into an honest-to-God cowgirl. Maybe talking was the first thing to go.
***
Nate couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sky. Sunsets at Latigo were always a wonder, and he didn’t dare miss a moment of the magic. If he wound up in Denver, his sunsets were numbered, and he needed to memorize every one. He was so absorbed in the color and the light and the beauty of it, he didn’t notice Charlie until she rested her arms on the fence beside him.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“You heard?” He suddenly felt ashamed. How could he have messed up his life bad enough to lose the ranch? He kept his gaze glued to the sky. He couldn’t even look at Charlie.
“I talked to Taylor,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“I’m selling the ranch,” he said. “I have to.”
“What about Sam?”
“Sam is what it’s about,” he said.
“Really?” Charlie snorted. “If you think that kid would be better off anywhere but here, Sandi’s really got you snowed.” She leaned forward, scanning his face intently. “Funny. I can’t see the ring in your nose. So how’s she leading you around?” She let out a frustrated growl and walked away.
Nate gave her a few minutes, then followed her into the barn. He knew she’d head for the horses. Being with them calmed her like it did him.
Animals had been his therapists since he was a kid. He’d come out here to the barn at night and just sit, listening to the soft breathing of the big animals, smelling the sweet earthy scents of hay and horses, getting over whatever bad days and hard times came his way. He remembered discovering that magic as a kid, that calming, comforting aura even the wildest animals put out.
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