ROYAL'S CHILD

by Sharon Sala

  Another string of curses erupted. It was all Royal needed to hear. Without waiting for Fat Louie Tureau to answer, he hung up the phone and stalked out of the office. He went to her room and stood in the doorway. He glanced at her clothes laid out on the bed and then at the expression on her face.

  "Do you have enough hangers?" he asked.

  Her shoulders slumped, but only slightly, as if giving herself permission to relax. She glanced at the bed and then at the open closet door.

  "Yes, I believe that I do."

  He nodded. "Good. As soon as you get your things hung up, why don't you meet me outside? I'll walk you over the place. You need to know where things are located, especially Maddie's favorite hiding places. And we can talk money and days off then."

  The urge to giggle was strong, but Angel nodded, waiting until Royal had walked away before allowing herself a small smile.

  Royal wasn't as easy in his mind about what he'd just done as Angel had been in accepting it. All he could think as he walked outside to where his daughter was playing was that he hoped to God he wouldn't live to regret this.

  * * *

  Tommy Boy Watson pulled off the blacktop onto the graveled shoulder and got out. He stretched lazily then tilted his head to gaze at the stars. They were thick and bright: tiny pinpoints of white, blinking lights on a blanket of black velvet. The air was warm and humid. His blue and white striped shirt clung to his body like wet tissue paper to the side of a glass. But he didn't care about comfort. He didn't care about anything except that he was all right with the world.

  A few miles north, the horizon was aglow from the lights of Abilene. He'd never been to Abilene before, but he was headed there. His belly growled, and he remembered he hadn't eaten a bite since early this morning. He rubbed a hand over his face, wincing at the two-day growth of whiskers. Tonight he'd get himself a room, then a steak. A great big steak. Sleeping in his truck was okay now and then, but tonight he was celebrating. Tonight he would shower and shave and sleep in a real bed. Tommy Boy liked a clean shave.

  Somewhere to his right he heard a calf bawl, and he jumped. Then a few moments later a cow answered. He relaxed. No big deal, just a calf that had lost its mother. He shook a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lit one up, savoring the night, the silence and his smoke. When he was finished, he dropped the stub into the dirt, then ground it out with the toe of his boot until it was indistinguishable. He turned toward his pickup truck. It was time to get to business.

  He let down the tailgate and pulled the tarp-wrapped body onto the ground as if it was so much trash. With a few quick tugs on the tarp, the lifeless body of Carol Jo Belmont, late of the Big Wheel Truck Stop, rolled into the ditch.

  Anxious to be on his way, he folded the tarp and laid it in his truck, weighting it down with his spare tire to keep it from blowing away. He would need it again, of that he was certain. A few minutes later, he pulled onto the blacktop and drove away without looking back. By the time he'd reached the city limits, he was exhausted. But it was a good exhaustion. The kind that comes from knowing you've done a good day's work. He smiled. His daddy would have been proud.

  * * *

  By the time a week had passed, the trio at the ranch had settled into their routine. After a couple of days of hovering around the ranch house making certain Angel could cope with his daughter's antics, Royal began to relax. It would seem that Maddie's angel wasn't afraid of work. The house had never been cleaner. And coming in to hot meals, meals he didn't have to cook, and having clean clothes in his closet that he didn't have to wash were blessings he hadn't expected. But there was still the discomfort of living with a stranger.

  On the other hand, Maddie had never been happier. And Royal was seeing a change in her he wouldn't have believed. His little tomboy was turning toward things of a feminine nature.

  * * *

  Royal glanced at his watch and cursed beneath his breath. In less than fifteen minutes, he was supposed to have Maddie at Paige Sullivan's birthday party, and he still had to change his clothes. Frowning, he screwed the lid on the bottle of leather cleaner and hung up the bridle he'd been working on. Life with Maddie had been a lot simpler when she was a baby. A female's maturation was difficult enough for a man to handle without all the added social events that seemed to come out of nowhere. Granted, she and Paige had been playmates and friends almost from the day they could toddle, but back then it hadn't been such a big deal. They played together when Royal and Tom, Paige's dad, had business to deal with, and that was that. But in the last year, Maddie had learned how to dial a phone, and to his disgust, so had Paige. At the age of four, Maddie had already been given a five-minute phone curfew. He was beginning to wonder what it would be like when she started school. More friends. More calls. And for a man who understood horses better than he did his own daughter, more worries. He didn't even want to think what his life would be like by the time Maddie was old enough to date. Then he reminded himself to concentrate on the present, and right now he was late for a date with his very best girl.

  He entered the utility room, glanced into the kitchen and saw Maddie and Angel sitting at the kitchen table. Without paying attention to what they were doing, he bent to pull off his dirty boots.

  "Hey, peanut, sorry I'm late. Just let me change my shirt and shoes, and we'll be ready to go to Paige's birthday party."

  Oblivious to her father's presence, Maddie's gaze was fixed on the still-wet, rose-colored polish gleaming on her nails. She mumbled okay.

  Angel looked up. From where she was sitting, she could just see her employer's backside as he bent to pull off his boots. One soft grunt, then another. It would be fair to say her attention wavered.

  She bit her lip and looked away, making herself focus on the last two tiny nails she had yet to paint.

  "Just another minute and we'll be through," she told Maddie, and smiled at the intent expression on the little girl's face.

  Maddie blinked and nodded, but only slightly. Angel's caution to remain still had turned Royal's child into a small, living, breathing statue. The female fascination of having her fingernails painted for the first time in her life had overtaken every outside stimulus. Except, of course, the completion of the project and gloating to her friend, Paige, about the acquisition of an angel.

  Unaware that her presence was going to be Maddie's small coup, Angel dipped the brush into the bottle, then pulled it out, carefully removing the excess polish on the lip. Then she took Maddie by the hand and leaned forward, bent on finishing the task they'd started.

  Sock-footed, Royal produced almost soundless steps as he entered the kitchen. Whatever he'd been about to say slipped out of his mind. He inhaled slowly, fighting an unexpected surge of tears as an errant thought came and went.

  So this is what little girls do when left to their own devices.

  Spellbound by the innocent beauty of their profiles as they bent to the task, it was all he could do to breathe. He looked at his daughter and saw her—really saw her—as the individual she was and not an extension of him.

  She was wearing a dress he didn't recognize. It took a few moments for him to remember Ryder and Casey had given it to her for Christmas last year. To his chagrin, he realized this was the first time she'd worn it. His conscience pricked.

  Her hair was in a braid. That made him feel better. He braided her hair, too. Then he looked closer. This was a fancy braid, with five plaits rather than three. And the ribbon in her hair … it matched the pink and white dots on her dress.

  He knew a moment of loss, as if he'd stepped off balance. It was one of the few times in his life he could remember feeling helpless. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his gaze from his daughter to the woman who was holding her hand. Emotion hit him belly first. It was jealousy, pure and simple.

  If it had been possible at that moment to turn back time, he would have done it. If only he'd taken a different road home that day in the rain, this wouldn't be happening. This woman wouldn't be givin
g his daughter things he couldn't. But Maddie looked up, and every selfish thought he'd been having died. He couldn't remember ever seeing such joy in her eyes.

  "Daddy, look! Angel is painting my fingernails. I'm going to be so beautiful."

  He shook his head as if coming out of a trance. And when he bent to kiss the top of her head, the smile on his face was only a little bit sad.

  "You already are," he said softly. "Now hold that smile. I'll be right back." He started out of the room, then stopped. As difficult as it was to say, there was something he had to get said. "Hey, Angel."

  She looked up.

  "Thanks."

  "For what?" she asked.

  He cocked his head toward his daughter. "For that."

  "It is nothing," she said quietly.

  "Not to her," he said.

  Angel could feel the power of his gaze even after he was gone. There was something in his eyes she kept dodging—a message she wasn't sure she should read. She screwed the lid on the polish and leaned back in her chair.

  Lonely. That was what she'd seen. Royal Justice was just possibly the loneliest man she'd ever met. Although he had the love of his family and his daughter, this was a different kind of lonely. The kind that comes from not having anyone to share yourself with.

  She wasn't sure he knew it. And if he did, she knew he'd never admit it. But it was there just the same. She knew because every time she looked in the mirror, she saw the same emptiness on her face.

  A few minutes later he was back, and the indecision she'd seen in his eyes was gone. The take-charge man was back.

  Royal breezed through the kitchen on his way out the door. "Come on, girl, you're gonna be late, and don't forget your present."

  Maddie stood like a queen rising from a throne. Her pink and white dress belled around her legs, and the ribbon at the end of her braid was bouncing against the middle of her back.

  "You carry it," she solemnly announced, pointing toward a neatly wrapped package. "My nails are still wet."

  He stopped, flummoxed by the inability to cope with all this femininity.

  "Oh … uh, sure," he muttered, and went to the cabinet to retrieve the present.

  Maddie sailed out the door ahead of him as if she was going to war, marching with her head held high and waving her hands in the air to dry them as Angel had shown her.

  As Royal was pulling the door shut behind him, he could have sworn he heard a snicker. But when he turned, Angel was busying herself cleaning up the cotton balls and polish.

  "We should be back in a couple of hours," he said shortly.

  Angel answered without looking up. "Yes, sir."

  Royal frowned. "Don't call me sir," he growled.

  "All right, Mr. Justice."

  His frown deepened. "And don't call me mister, either."

  Angel stopped. She knew she'd pushed him enough.

  "Okay."

  "Okay what?" Royal asked.

  Angel flinched. Saying his name, even to herself, seemed too personal. But he was the boss.

  "Okay … Royal."

  Royal nodded. "Like I said, we won't be too long. Consider the next two hours free time for yourself."

  She nodded.

  He started out the door and realized she wouldn't know where they'd gone. He couldn't imagine why, but there was the outside possibility that she might need to reach him. But when he looked back, she was gone.

  "Daddy! Come open the door for me! I'll mess up my nails," Maddie yelled.

  Royal rolled his eyes. "Damnation, Madeline Michelle, you're pushing your luck," he yelled.

  * * *

  A magazine lay half open on the floor where it had fallen from Angel's lap as she'd drifted off to sleep. The digital clock in Royal's bedroom blinked, sending out a new number to indicate the passing of time. Outside, a light breeze blew, cooling the afternoon heat. Down in the barn, Dumpling, the old mamma cat, lay dozing in the hay while her babies nursed and slept. Peace pervaded.

  * * *

  Sonny French took the wrong road home, which was understandable considering the amount of liquor he'd been consuming. It did occur to him to wonder why his driveway had a curve he didn't remember, but by the time his mind had considered the thought, it was too late for him to miss the tree. He hit it head-on, bouncing his truck over a ditch and through the tightly strung wires of a five-strand fence and scattering the herd of cattle that had been grazing there.

  It came through the depths of Angel's sleep. First the thud, then a crunching of metal, then the frantic bellows of animals gone wild. She came off the couch in one motion, staring in sleepy confusion and wondering if she'd been dreaming in stereo. But then she realized she could still hear the cows and ran to the window. Even from the house, she could see the crumpled front end of a vehicle jammed through Royal's fence. In the pasture beyond, cattle were bawling and milling in nervous congestion. She didn't recognize the pickup but was relieved to see it wasn't Royal and Maddie.

  She ran for the phone, only to discover there were no emergency services in the area and wasted time looking up the police number. To make matters worse, when they asked her for directions to the accident, she realized the only thing she knew to tell them was Royal Justice's ranch. As luck would have it, the dispatcher on duty knew the place well, and promptly dispatched an ambulance and a sheriff.

  Angel dropped the phone onto the receiver and dashed out of the house. By the time she got to the wreck, she was in adrenaline overdrive. The driver was slumped over the wheel with blood dripping from his forehead. Smoke poured from the crumpled hood of the truck, but Angel could tell it was steam rather than fire. Unwilling to move him for fear of injuring him more, she turned in a panicked circle, unsure what to do first.

  To her dismay, the cattle had run to the opposite end of the pasture and were now coming toward her at a steady walk, curious to see what had invaded their space. She took one look at the length of fence that was down and groaned. She had no idea how to reach Royal and it would be several minutes at best before help arrived.

  Panicked, she started toward the break in the fence. An expert on cattle she was not, but the least she could do was try to keep them from getting out until help arrived.

  "My head," Sonny groaned.

  Angel pivoted. One good thing. At least he was alive. She darted toward the cab.

  "Don't move, mister. An ambulance is on the way."

  "Don't need no ambulance," Sonny drawled. "Jus' need my bed. My good ol' bed." Then he groaned again and passed out.

  Angel's eyes narrowed angrily. She'd seen the empty beer cans in the floor of his truck. Stupid man. She turned toward the pasture. The cattle were getting nearer.

  "Now what?" she muttered, and once again started toward the broken fence.

  But this time, as she circled the truck, she spied something in the pickup bed she thought she could use. Without hesitation, she crawled in on her hands and knees, grabbed a cattle whip from beneath a jumble of trash and jumped out.

  The long handle was coated with a film of greasy dirt. The whip on the end wasn't much more than a yard long, but its tip was forked like a snake's tongue. She tried popping it over her head and almost popped herself in the butt.

  Dancing sideways to dodge her own wrath, she began moving toward the converging herd with the whip over her head, waving it in the air and, when she got up the nerve, giving it a sharp crack to one side. After a few tries, the motion became easier. A flip of the wrist, then a sudden jerk back. That's all it took. She looked nervously at the cattle. Now if they just got the message, she'd be all right.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  The party was a huge success. Within five minutes of leaving Paige Sullivan's house, Maddie had slumped sideways in the seat and gone to sleep. Royal drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on her. The tires on his truck hummed as the miles sped away, and he thought as he drove that there was something inherently comforting about living in ruts.
He'd been driving down this particular stretch of highway most of his life. He knew every bent tree and rusty fence post, every windmill, every owner of every acre he passed. He even knew the identity of the old fellow on the tractor in front of him.

  Old Man Hargis drove, as his daddy used to say, like the dead lice were falling off him. Instead of being impatient with the snail's pace, he grinned. It was just as well the old fellow didn't drive much faster than he walked, because his eyesight was worse than his hearing.

  Finally the road ahead cleared, giving him room to pass. He glanced at Maddie, giving her seat belt a tug to make sure she was still buckled in, then whipped out from the trail of Hargis's diesel smoke. At peace with the world, Royal waved at his elderly neighbor as he passed, then slipped into his lane, leaving the old man far behind.

  He thought back to the party. It had gone well. As always, he was the only male parent, but he'd long gotten over the oddity of being the only male present. In fact, there'd been times in his past when he'd secretly enjoyed all the female attention. Even if they were only friends. Even if they were all married to some of his buddies. A little fussing never hurt.

  But that was before Maddie's blossoming. Today their appearance at the party had been the topic of conversation.

  Maddie was wearing a dress.

  The women couldn't believe it.

  And Maddie's nails were bright with new pink polish.

  Their eyes were round with wonder.

  And then there was the hairdo and the fancy pink ribbon. The list went on and on. Add to that Maddie's announcement that their new keeper was an angel, and Paige Sullivan's fifth birthday had become the second most important event of the day.

  Royal sighed, picturing the gossip around supper tables tonight, then leaned back and grinned. He had to admit, Maddie had dropped a bomb on them all with that one. He'd let her talk. And why the hell not? Her explanation was better than his. He still didn't know what to say about what he'd done.

  Out of habit, he took a hand from the wheel and smoothed it over his daughter's head, then her shoulder, patting her gently before turning his attention to the road.