A sudden stab of pain through his temple left Daniel wincing. “Intact might be an overstatement.”
“You’ve been out for a couple of hours. You probably do have a headache.”
He made an exploratory move of his arms and legs. “Plus some bruises.”
“But no broken bones,” a third voice informed him, as a woman wearing green surgical scrubs strode into the room. “And no damage to that erector set of pins and shafts holding your right leg together.” She offered Daniel a handshake. “I’m Dr. Dobbins. Other than the concussion, you’re in good shape. We’ll let you stay overnight, just to keep an eye on you, then send you home in the morning.”
Before he could protest, she gave a quick wave and hurried off. Daniel frowned at Willa, instead. “I don’t need to stay overnight.”
She laughed at him. “I would have predicted you’d say that. Men never want to follow medical advice. But I can tell you that I’m not taking you home, and there’s nobody else here to do it. So unless you’re planning to walk, I’d say your best bet is to do as you’re told.”
“I’ve taken more medical orders than any one person ought to put up with,” he grumbled, even though he knew the cause was lost. “I thought I was finished with hospitals.”
“Occupational hazard. Most folks who work with cattle and horses have to visit them now and again.” Leaning back in her chair, she glanced at their bland surroundings. “At least you got as far as the hospital. Jamie didn’t.”
Daniel sensed she didn’t want an apology. “How long was he in the National Guard?”
“He joined at the start of the war. He had a lot to say about patriotism and defending the country, but I think he was looking for excitement. Contrary to today’s experience, ranch life gets to be pretty routine after a while.”
“He had to know the risks, though.”
She shrugged. “Jamie liked taking risks, with money and with his own safety. Toby’s just like him—reckless, adventurous, usually forgets to look before he leaps. Robbie and Susannah are more like me, thank goodness.”
“Cautious,” Daniel suggested. “Always prepared.”
“I prefer knowing what to expect.”
“Is that why you married a man you’d known all your life?”
Willa gasped and jumped to her feet. “What gives you the right to ask that kind of question?”
“Blame it on the concussion. Are you going to answer?”
She stalked to the window and looked out, keeping her back to him. “It’s none of your business.”
“I disagree.” He waited through a long silence, wondering if she would trust him enough to explain.
Finally, her shoulders lifted and sank again. “My sophomore year in high school, I fell madly in love with the captain of the football team.”
“Jamie?”
The long braid hanging down her back swayed as she shook her head. “On our first date, he told me he loved me. After a week, he told me if I loved him, I’d go all the way. So I did.”
Daniel winced.
“By the next school day,” she continued, “the whole football team knew what I’d done, and they made sure to tell everyone else. Teachers looked at me differently, thinking I was a slut. My mother found out, though somehow my dad never did. Or didn’t care enough to say anything.”
Finally, she turned around and gazed at him, her face expressionless. “Jamie had been my friend since first grade. He knew it was my first time, and he knew how upset I was when Mr. Football never called again. We hung out together and gradually fell in love. That’s why I married him.”
“I understand.” He searched for the right words. “Willa, I’m not the evil Mr. Football.”
“I know. And there are lots of reasons I should fall into your arms, begging you to be part of my life.” She stuck up her thumb. “You’re great with my kids. My aunts love you.” Her index finger came up. “You’ve obviously got a decent amount of money.” Middle finger. “You’re a sincerely nice man—” ring finger “—and you’re terrific in bed.” All five slender fingers stretched long.
Daniel grinned. Willa did not, but she stuck up her other thumb. “I admit I could use your help and your support.” Dropping her arms, she braced her hands on the footboard of his bed. “But I simply don’t want to take the risk.”
“There’s no risk, Willa.” He stretched his arms out wide. “I am what you see.”
Her smile was rueful as she shook her head. “There’s always a risk. Jamie should have been the safest choice of all, and look what happened.” She sighed. “These days, what I want is to take care of my family and the Blue Moon. It’s enough.”
“You deserve more, Willa. I’d like to give you more.”
“That’s sweet.” She gave him a small, sad smile. “But as your friend, I’m telling you not to waste your time.”
A nurse poked her head through the open doorway. “Visiting hours are ending. You’ll need to leave.”
Willa straightened her back. “Right.” Her gaze, when she looked at Daniel, was distant. “Nate said he would be here tomorrow morning to take you home. I hope you get some sleep tonight.”
“Willa—” He stretched out a hand.
But she shook her head, turned and quickly left the room.
Daniel let his arm drop to the bed. Exhaustion overpowered him suddenly, and he sank back against the pillow, letting his eyes close. His first day as a full-fledged rancher had ended in disaster. What did that say about his chances for long-term success? He had a feeling the odds against him had gone up significantly.
If Willa wasn’t part of the package, though, maybe he didn’t care.
Chapter Eight
Willa drove home with the radio tuned to one of the kids’ rock stations and turned up loud, hoping the unfamiliar music would keep her from thinking about…well, anything, really. Over dinner, she gave the favorable report on Daniel’s condition to Lili and Rosa and the children, then escaped as soon as possible, pleading paperwork to finish.
What greeted her on her desk, of course, was the October calendar, its first days marked off with big red X’s. She gazed at the blank days still to come, thinking about her conversation with Daniel at the hospital. Seventy-four days until December twenty-first. Would she hold out against him that long? Would he take her at her word and stop trying?
What would she do if he didn’t leave by Christmas?
Avoiding the questions she couldn’t answer, Willa turned her attention to paying bills and figuring accounts. Unfortunately, the picture presented by those accounts and the remaining balance in her checkbook was a grim one, indeed. Daniel’s payment had only postponed the crisis. If she couldn’t figure out more ways to economize, she’d have to cut back on her crew, all of whom needed their jobs. Last summer’s sales had covered the costs of production, with nothing left over for expansion or decreasing her debt. She could sell part of the herd—at the wrong time of year, with prices down. Her profit lay in marketing fat calves, not pregnant heifers. But if she changed her tax structure…
When the numbers didn’t look any better at midnight than they had at 10:00 p.m., she forced herself to quit calculating and go to bed. On the way to her room, however, the clatter of pans drew Willa toward the kitchen. From the doorway, she saw Susannah working busily at the counter, reading a recipe book at the same time as she stirred something dark and chocolatey in one of Rosa’s big mixing bowls.
“What’s the occasion?” Willa asked. “Did I miss the announcement of a bake sale?”
Susannah jumped and dropped her spoon into the bowl. “Mom!” Her voice squeaked in surprise and, Willa thought, embarrassment. “What are you doing up?”
“What are you doing still awake this late on a school night?”
“Um…well, I forgot to tell anybody about the bake sale.” Her daughter wiped a hand across her face, leaving smears of chocolate on her smooth skin. “So I figured I’d better take care of it myself.”
Willa crossed to
the counter. “What are you making?” She turned the recipe book in her direction. “Chocolate fudge cake with black cherry frosting? Sounds pretty decadent for a school bake sale.”
Susannah shrugged. “I wanted something different. Everybody makes brownies.”
“That’s true.” Willa scooped up a fingerful of batter. “Mmm. Shall I stay and help?”
“No!” Susannah shook her head firmly. “I’m doing this all by myself. You should go on to bed.” She gazed at Willa with a softer expression. “You look tired, Mom. You work too hard.”
“Hard work is good for you.” She said it automatically, because that’s what mothers were supposed to tell their children.
“You always say that.” Susannah butted her hip against Willa’s, pushing her away from the counter. “Go on. I can do this all by myself.”
Lying in bed, in the dark, Willa willed herself to sleep, without success. Her body refused to relax, and her mind wouldn’t slow down. She did work hard, all day, every day. She hadn’t had a vacation since Jamie was killed, and for several years before. He’d spent the money on some wild scheme or the other. There’d never been a good time to get away.
You deserve more, Willa. I’d like to give you more.
I simply don’t want to take the risk.
But in her dreams that night, she wished she could.
WHEN DANIEL AND NATE PARKED in the carport Tuesday morning, they found a small cardboard box on the kitchen doorstep. Feeling every bruise he’d acquired in yesterday’s fall, Daniel picked up the box and carried it inside to the table. After a long welcome session with Trouble—who looked none the worse for having challenged fifty longhorn cows the day before—they prepared to unveil the latest treat from the Mercado kitchen.
“A cake,” Nate guessed. “No doubt Miss Rosa and Miss Lili wanted to welcome you home.”
“Cookies would be good, too.” Daniel removed the box’s lid. “Nope, you win. It’s…” He hesitated, gazing at the concoction he’d revealed. “I think it’s a cake.”
“It’s round, anyway. The top’s kinda bumpy.”
“And slanted. That bulge around the middle indicates two layers, doesn’t it?”
“I hope so. Or else it’s gonna erupt.”
“What flavor do you think the pink icing is?”
“Uh…strawberry?”
“Maybe. Get a knife and we’ll see what the inside looks like.”
The interior of the cake was a gooey chocolate. “Strawberry and chocolate.” Nate scratched his head. “I’ll eat a piece if you will.”
Daniel took a deep breath. “Sure. Why not?”
Armed with plates and forks, they each took a helping. “Tastes better than it looks,” was Nate’s conclusion.
“That wouldn’t be too hard.” Daniel dragged his fork through the half-baked cake. “I have to say, this isn’t up to the Mercado ladies’ usual standard.”
“No, it ain’t. Maybe they weren’t feeling too good.”
“I don’t think I’d be feeling too good if I ate any more of this…cake.” With Trouble hopefully observing, he scraped his plate into the trash, did the same for Nate’s and dropped the box with the remainder into the can. “So, are we driving more cattle this afternoon?”
After Daniel’s fall, Nate and the hands had needed the rest of the day to round up the scattered cattle and convey them to their proper place. Today, with Trouble locked in his crate inside the locked house, they moved another group of cows to pasture before dark.
“Half-done,” Daniel commented as they unsaddled back at the barn that afternoon.
“We should get the rest settled by dark tomorrow.” Nate rubbed a rag over Daze’s chest, back and belly.
Daniel used a brush on Calypso’s white-and-black coat. “I wonder how long it’ll take the rustlers to move in.”
Nate said, “Not long enough.”
But Daniel hoped that, for once, his foreman would be wrong.
WILLA’S CREW KNEW BETTER than to interrupt when she was breaking in a horse. So when Jorge hailed her to take a phone call in the middle of a ride on Wednesday morning, she knew immediately that a problem had come up.
Still, she wasn’t prepared for the principal’s voice. “Mrs. Mercado, I need you to come to school right away.”
She gripped the phone tightly. “Are the kids all right?”
“Everyone is fine. But I have Robbie in my office, and I must see you as soon as possible.”
Thirty minutes later, Willa strode into the school building and struggled against a tide of children to reach the administrative suite.
Her breathing eased a little when she saw Robbie sitting safe and sound in front of the principal’s desk. But the sullen look on his face and the rigid set of Mrs. Abrams’s shoulders signaled trouble.
“What is it?” she asked, still standing. “What has he done?”
Mrs. Abrams took a deep breath. “He brought this to school.” With an unsteady hand, she indicated the big, black weapon lying in the center of her desk.
“A gun?” Willa swung around to stare at her son. “You brought a gun to school?”
“Is this yours, Mrs. Mercado?”
“No!” Willa didn’t take her eyes off Robbie. “Why would you do something so…so stupid?”
Robbie shrugged one shoulder and lowered his gaze to the floor between his shoes. Taking one stride, Willa grabbed his shoulder and jerked.
“You will sit up like a man when you’re in the principal’s office, do you hear me?” Her voice shook with the effort not to scream. “And I want an answer. Why did you bring a weapon to school?”
Her son straightened up in the chair. “I thought it was cool. I thought the guys would like to see it.”
“Where did the gun come from?” Mrs. Abrams came around to stand beside Willa. “Did someone give it to you?”
When Robbie didn’t answer, Willa tightened her grip and shook his shoulder again. “Answer the question, Roberto. Who gave you the gun?”
He flinched away from her. “Nobody!”
“You took it? Without permission?”
His silence confirmed her guess. Willa released him and faced the principal. “I know whose weapon this is. My neighbor is retired Army. He is not a danger to the school or the community in any way. Roberto must have…” God, it was hard to say! “…must have stolen the weapon from this man to bring to school.”
The principal nodded. “I see.” Returning to her chair, she sat down and propped her forearms on the desk. “Well, Mrs. Mercado, I’m sure you realize what a serious offense this is. We have zero tolerance for weapons of any kind at this school.”
“I know.” Willa sank into the chair beside Robbie’s. “My son does, as well.”
“The punishment for bringing a gun to school is automatic suspension. I’m allowed some latitude in determining the duration, but the minimum, as directed by the school board, is four weeks. All academic work during that period will receive a failing grade.”
With her hands gripped together, Willa held onto her control. “I understand.”
Mrs. Abrams smiled slightly. “Robbie’s always been a good student, and we’ve never before had the slightest trouble with him. I believe this incident is unique and will not happen again. So I’m going to impose the minimum suspension.”
Aware of the irony, Willa said, “Thank you.”
“There will, of course, be a report to the sheriff’s office, and I expect they will want to interview Robbie. If the local media gets hold of the story…” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Willa got to her feet. A single glance at her son brought him out of his chair. He stood for a moment without speaking but then saw the second, furious look Willa sent in his direction.
“I’m sorry, too, Mrs. Abrams.” Hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped, he managed to look the principal in the eye. “I didn’t plan to hurt anybody. I didn’t bring the bullets. I just—” He shrugged, then sniffed. Wh
en he turned his face away, Willa knew he was crying.
Well, she would be, too, when she had the privacy. “Thank you for your tolerance.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Mrs. Abrams ushered them to the door. “And I will look forward to having Robbie back in school.”
“He’ll be a changed boy,” Willa said. “I can promise you that.”
The walk outside through the lunchtime rush might have been as much punishment as Robbie needed—silence fell as the crowd of kids parted to let them through, with all eyes focused on the boy who’d so completely screwed up. Willa didn’t shield him or say a word, hoping the ostracism would do some good.
Once in the truck and on the way home, she waited for some kind of voluntary statement from her son. Finally, though, she gave in and broke the silence herself. “Talk to me, Roberto.”
For another five miles, he resisted. “I just wanted to show the guys,” he said, at last.
“Show them Major Trent’s weapon? Why?”
Robbie shook his head. “Not him, so much. I figured…figured Dad would have used one like that. But Trent told me what it was like, being a soldier, fighting the war. I thought the gun would show how cool it was.”
Now Willa was the one who let the silence lengthen. “Have you been…hassled…about your dad?”
His one-shouldered shrug meant yes.
“But, son, you had to know how much trouble you’d be in if anyone found out about the gun. How many news reports have we seen about kids who brought weapons to school and what happens to them?” Then, when he didn’t reply, she supplied the response herself. “You thought it was worth the risk.”
There didn’t seem to be much more to say. When they reached the house, Willa unlocked the doors and looked at Robbie. “Go to your room and stay there until I get back. You’re grounded from the TV, telephone and video games. Understand?”
He nodded and left the truck without looking at her. Willa made sure he went inside, then followed to be sure Lili and Rosa understood the program. “He can eat lunch in his room,” she told them. “I’ll be back within the hour.”
Christmas at Blue Moon Ranch Page 9
