Ranch at River’s End

by Brenda Mott

  “It is against the law to ride a skateboard on the sidewalk,” Eileen scolded, grabbing hold of Saylor’s collar. She shook her finger at Chris, causing the loose skin above her elbow to jiggle. “I heard about what you did in Denver, and if you don’t stop roaring past my house on that thing, I’m going to call the police.”

  Christopher smirked. “Fine.” With some fancy footwork, he popped the board into the air, carried it into the street where Darci’s car was parked, and set it back down, hopping on again. “I’m not on the sidewalk.”

  “Christopher!” Darci strode forward but the boy had already taken off.

  Eileen turned to glare at Darci. “You need to discipline that boy,” she said, her gaze raking Darci judgmentally. “From what I just heard, a trip to the woodshed might do him some good!” With that, she flounced up the steps, tugging poor Saylor along, and slammed the front door shut behind her.

  “We don’t have a woodshed!” Darci called after her, echoing her son’s sarcasm. “Argh.” She pushed one hand through her bangs, whirling to face Jordan. The look of surprise and despair in her eyes got to him. “How did she—” Darci began, then shook her head. “Never mind.” She helped him with the painting supplies as he took them from the cargo space.

  “Don’t let her get to you,” Jordan said, wondering what exactly Eileen had meant by her comment. What had Chris done that had the woman so upset? Did it have anything to do with the spray-painted graffiti? “Eileen yells at everyone’s kid. She reamed Michaela out a while back for letting our dog pee on the grass near the curb when Mac took Chewy for a walk. And yet she owns a dog big enough to poop buffalo chips.”

  “Yeah, well at least everyone in town isn’t gossiping about your daughter,” Darci said. “Sorry.” She pressed her fingers to both temples. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

  “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “I’ve got to go find Chris. Thank you for everything, though. I’ll get your stuff back to you later today.”

  “No problem.” He waited as she ducked inside the house to retrieve her car keys. “Call me if you need anything.”

  There he went again. But she obviously did need someone to talk to.

  Darci nodded, then drove off.

  Jordan stood for a moment in the driveway, still holding the bucket of paint. He eyed the garage door. Darci had enough on her hands, and he had a little extra time. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to paint the door.

  Opening the can of yellow, he stirred it, telling himself he wasn’t doing this because he was attracted to her. He was simply being a good neighbor. It bugged him that he found her attractive and that he’d seen something in Christopher’s expression when the boy interacted with Eileen’s dog. A change in his mannerism that gave Jordan the impression of a nice kid longing for something….

  He hadn’t been able to save Sandra from the shooter who’d taken her life. He hadn’t been able to protect his little girl from the injuries she’d sustained that cold December day nearly two years ago, or from the psychological fallout of watching her mother die.

  So why did he feel the need to reach out to Darci and Christopher?

  Using the roller, Jordan hurriedly painted the section of Darci’s garage door that had been covered by graffiti, going over it a couple of times to make sure it blended into the older paint.

  Then he poured the excess paint back into the can, sealed the lid, and left it beside the garage door in case Darci needed it later. He had no use for the yellow and had only kept it in case Mimi needed a little touch-up work.

  Folding the canvas tarp, he loaded it and the paint supplies into his vehicle and drove home.

  DARCI DIDN’T HAVE TO LOOK far to find Christopher. He was at the skate park a few blocks away, practicing tricks on the half-pipe. The park was located in an area of town that had once been farmland and open country. As more and more construction occurred, the city limits of River’s End had gradually encroached on the wilderness, eating up hillsides of sagebrush and trees, though the town still retained its rural character. It was just no longer the place Darci remembered.

  The town had grown by leaps and bounds since her last visit a few years ago. The population had been only six hundred when she was a kid. She’d loved coming here summers to visit her aunt and uncle on their ranch after her parents had moved their family to Denver when Darci was nine.

  Which reminded her—she’d invited Stella and Leon over for a barbecue this evening to celebrate the holiday weekend. She needed to get home and paint the garage door, and do some more unpacking so the house would look presentable.

  And Christopher was darned sure going to do his share of the work, including the paint touch-up.

  He glanced up as she parked at the curb, but kept right on skating on the neon-green board. Darci couldn’t help but notice three other boys about his age with skateboards, hanging around the park’s perimeter. The trio kept looking Chris’s way, as though debating whether or not to approach him.

  Darci wished he’d make some friends. If her neighbor knew about what Chris had done at his old school, had other people in town found out, too? Darci swallowed over the scratchy lump in her throat. What had the world come to, when a child could be bullied and harassed over the Internet to the point of being pushed to do something completely outside his nature? Cyberbullying was on the rise, and her son had become just another statistic.

  Unfair. Yet they had to deal with it.

  Surely Chris would make friends with someone at his new school, someone who wouldn’t prejudge him. He’d enrolled in River’s End Middle School a few days after the school year started, but that couldn’t be helped. Darci had gotten them into the rental house as quickly as possible, once it had become available. She’d also had to wait for Christopher to serve out the four-month sentence the juvenile-court judge had rendered before making big changes in their lives.

  At least Chris hadn’t missed out academically, since Darci had been homeschooling him ever since he’d been expelled from North Star Middle School in Northglenn in the middle of the school year.

  She’d thought putting him back in the public school system this year would be good for him. The family counselor they’d been seeing in Northglenn had advised it, as had Christopher’s psychologist, both of them agreeing Chris had to learn to make friends again, to fit in with society. Basically, play well with others, Darci thought as she tapped the horn, then motioned for Christopher to come to the car. He ignored her, running the skateboard up and down the cement bowls.

  Her patience frayed, Darci got out of the car.

  “Chris!” she called, walking over to stand near one of the ramps. “Let’s go. You’ve got work to do.”

  “Can’t I stay awhile longer?” Sulkily, he looked at her as he brought the board to a halt. “The garage door isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Nope. Work first, play later. Besides, I don’t want people seeing that mess, so come on.”

  Grumbling, he got into the car, and Darci did her best to ignore the sneers on the faces of the other kids. She hated having to embarrass her son, but he was the one who’d taken off without permission. Of course, at his age even walking through the mall with her could classify as embarrassing in Chris’s eyes, depending on the mood he was in. She longed for the days when he was a little boy who needed her, and the worst of her worries was making sure he didn’t wander out of sight, or decide to draw a mural on his bedroom wall with a pack of crayons.

  He still needs you.

  But what had happened to the boy who’d loved to read about Harry Potter and go hiking and horseback riding with his great aunt and uncle in the mountains, happily helping them out in the stables?

  “By the way,” Darci said. “I don’t want you mouthing off to Mrs. Hathaway anymore.”

  “Why? She’s a nosy old bat.”

  Darci struggled for control. “That may be. But she’s our neighbor, and if we’re ever going to fit into this town and have pe
ople accept us, we need to show them that we’re nice people who are above pettiness. So be polite to the old bat.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye and saw him trying not to smile. “All right?”

  “Okay.” He pulled his iPod from his pocket.

  “And it wouldn’t hurt to apologize, either.”

  Chris paused, his earbuds halfway to his head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Nope. Maybe you can take that big ol’ dog of hers a treat. A peace offering, say some leftovers from our barbecue tonight? I’ll wrap up some cobbler or potato salad or something for Mrs. Hathaway, as well.”

  “How about a dose of arsenic. For her, not the dog.”

  “Chris, that’s not funny.”

  “Why not? Everyone thinks I’m a mass murderer anyway.”

  “Don’t you think you’re blowing things out of proportion?”

  “Mom, someone painted leave on our garage. Hell-o.”

  “Well, you know they’re wrong about us, and I know they’re wrong. Now let’s show them.”

  “Fine.”

  They reached the house, and as soon as Darci pulled up in front, she spotted the paint can—and immediately noticed Jordan had already taken care of the garage door for her.

  “How about that,” Chris smirked. “Guess I don’t have to paint the garage after all.”

  Darci knew Jordan had meant well—still, his actions riled her, especially in her present mood. Didn’t he realize she’d wanted Chris to help?

  “Go finish writing your report,” she said.

  “Thrills-ville.” Chris strode to the house.

  While it was nice of Jordan to loan her the supplies, Darci wished he’d simply left the stuff. And to make matters worse, he’d forgotten the can of paint he’d brought over. Now she’d have to face him when she was annoyed with him.

  Or was she more annoyed with herself for finding him hot?

  The imp in her head was back.

  Darci picked up the gallon can and strolled down the walkway, her palms growing damp at the thought of seeing Jordan again, which only irritated her further.

  Michaela answered when she rang the bell. She peered at Darci from behind the partially opened door, safety chain in place.

  “Hi, sweetie. Is your dad here?”

  “Just a minute.” Michaela closed the door in her face, and Darci heard the distinct sound of a dead bolt sliding into place.

  What the heck?

  She could understand safety precautions, especially having lived in the Denver area, but here in River’s End? Had things changed that much in recent years with the town’s growth? Or had Michaela not recognized her? No, she’d just seen Darci a short time ago.

  The door opened again, this time without the safety chain, and Jordan stood framed in the entryway. “Hi there. What’s up?”

  “You forgot your paint,” she said, holding out the can.

  “No, I didn’t. I meant for you to keep it, in case you need it for further touch-ups.”

  “Are you insinuating someone might graffiti my garage again?” Darci knew she was being crabby.

  “I hope not,” Jordan said. “I only meant you might need it sometime down the road. Scrapes and dings, peeling paint…” He shrugged. “I don’t need it. Like I said, I got it for Mimi when she lived in your house.”

  “Fine. Thank you.” Darci tried not to notice how good he looked in his boots and faded jeans. “However, I wish you hadn’t done the paint job for me. I’d intended to make Christopher do it as punishment.”

  “Oh?” He looked curiously at her. “Sorry about that. I just wanted to help.”

  Suddenly Darci felt contrite for being short with him. It hit her that he had no way of knowing that Christopher’s actions were behind the graffiti.

  “Okay. Well, thanks again for the paint.” Darci could see Michaela hovering behind her father, listening to their every word. Remembering how the kid had bolted the door so abruptly, Darci wanted to put the little girl at ease.

  “How are you, Michaela? You know, you don’t have to lock the door next time I come over,” she teased. “I’m not planning to rob you of your silverware or anything.”

  Michaela gasped loud enough for Darci to hear. Then she covered her mouth and turned to hurry up the stairs with her cane, clinging to the railing for support.

  “Mac!” Jordan called, turning to watch his daughter. When he faced Darci again, his dark eyes were filled with a mixture of sadness and irritation.

  What had she said?

  “I—I’m sorry.” Darci was truly perplexed. “I didn’t mean to upset her. It’s just that she closed and chained the door while she went to get you.” She shrugged. “This neighborhood’s pretty safe, isn’t it? River’s End isn’t exactly the center of crime.”

  Jordan’s features tensed. “It’s not as safe as you think,” he said. “See you later, Darci.” With that, he closed the door.

  Darci stood there, her mouth literally hanging open.

  She wasn’t sure what rattled her more. The fact that she’d somehow upset Michaela, or that Jordan had practically slammed the door in her face. What had she said?

  Darci plunked the can of paint down on the porch, turned and headed home.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE LINGERING AROMA of barbecue smoke drifted pleasantly around the patio as Darci sat with Stella at a small folding table, enjoying one last hamburger. At the back of the garage, her uncle Leon shot hoops with Chris, having coaxed the boy into a game of horse after Christopher had wolfed down two hamburgers and three hot dogs.

  “You’ve got paint on your nose,” Stella said. “Right there.” She indicated the bridge of Darci’s nose. “What were you painting?”

  Darci used a paper napkin to wipe the spot away. It must have gotten there when she put away the paint. “The garage door.” She sighed. She hadn’t wanted to bring up the incident in front of Chris. She’d hoped to enjoy the barbecue and forget that someone didn’t want them here in River’s End. “Somebody sprayed graffiti on it.”

  “Taggers?” Stella asked. “In River’s End?” She shook her head. “What’s this world coming to?”

  “Not taggers,” Darci said. “Someone painted leave on my garage in big, red letters. Why would they do that, unless they know what Christopher did. And how could they? His name was never on the news.”

  Stella squirmed uncomfortably. “Well—um—I might’ve said something about what happened.”

  Darci’s jaw dropped. “Who did you tell?”

  “Just Lucy Long, down at Trail’s Inn Pizza.”

  “Oh, Aunt Stella. You know Lucy talks to Suzanne.” The owner of the local beauty shop was a renowned gossip. “And if you tell Suzanne, you might as well broadcast it over the local news.” That explained how Eileen Hathaway had heard about Chris.

  Stella pressed her hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Darci. I wasn’t thinking. But I only spoke in Christopher’s defense, which is exactly what I told Lucy—those kids were cyberbullying him.”

  Her aunt had a point, but it didn’t excuse Chris’s actions. With his love of horses and Southern-country rock, he hadn’t fit in with the kids at school, not even the other skaters. He’d been teased for the way he dressed, for the music he listened to and for hanging out at the boarding stables with Darci. And the teasing had escalated.

  “It’ll blow over,” Stella said. “You’ll see.”

  “But what’s next? What if someone damages my car, or breaks one of our windows? Maybe I should get a guard dog.”

  “Now, don’t go borrowing trouble.” Stella’s gaze softened as she leaned in close. “I’m sure this was a onetime thing.”

  “Yeah, well, I wish I felt the same.” Darci plunked her half-eaten burger down on her plate, no longer hungry. She had gone through hell in Northglenn. She didn’t think she could take another round.

  “Everything will work out—you’ll see,” her aunt assured her.

  Darci had her doubts. Especially if C
hris kept being such a little shit. She watched him hook a shot using fancy wrist work. A grin spread across his face as he shouted playful abuse at Leon.

  He was still her little boy.

  “You’re worrying too much.” Stella reached out and took both of Darci’s hands in hers.

  The familiar scent of lavender drifted over Darci, taking her right back to her childhood, when her aunt Stella could fix anything with a word of encouragement and some chocolate-chip cookies. If only life were so simple now.

  “You know what you need?” Stella said. “To do something fun. There’s a horse auction next weekend. Why don’t you plan on going with me and Leon? I’m looking for a few more lesson horses, now that I’ve got you as my partner. You can help me pick ’em out.” She gave a wink, and Darci managed a smile.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Okay. It’s a date. Chris will have a great time.”

  “I just wish I could help him settle in here and get adjusted.”

  “Adjusted my tail.” Stella waved the thought away like a fly at their cookout. “He’s a big boy. Let him adjust on his own.”

  “Aunt Stella.” Darci could hardly believe her aunt would be so callous. “He’s been through a lot.”

  “And so have you. Chris is playing you as sure as he’s playing your uncle in that game of horse.”

  Darci’s jaw dropped.

  “You heard me. ‘Poor me. Poor Chris. Everybody hates Christopher.’ The boy made a dumb mistake, but he’s done his time, and I’m here to tell you that the sooner you get past all that and let that kid deal with things on his own, the better it will be for both of you. Hell, he’ll land on two feet. Just toss him in the air and see if I’m not right.”

  Darci knew Stella’s tough-love approach hid a heart that was as big as the Colorado sky, but still she felt edgy. “I was starting to second-guess my decision to put him back in public school. I wish I could afford to quit work and homeschool him.”