A Husband in Wyoming

by Lynnette Kent

  Back in the living room, she picked up her camera. “I have to report this to Ford and Caroline. I don’t have a clue about what they’ll decide to do.”

  “You can’t send me home,” Lizzie said. “There’s nobody there.”

  “True. But we could hand you over to the sheriff. He might put you into a foster home under temporary custody until your parents get back.” She pretended to consider the idea. “Or into a juvenile detention center. I’m sure there’s one in Wyoming somewhere.”

  Then her despair got the better of her and she gazed at the two of them, sitting side by side on the couch. “I just don’t understand why you would risk what you have here. People who care, who are spending money and time on you...for what? An hour’s fun? Just because you can? I guess I should know the answer, because I was a kid who made trouble. But mostly I made trouble for myself. I didn’t try to hurt other people. Especially not the ones being nice to me.”

  Jess turned and opened the door. “I guess I’m not as much like you as I thought.” Then she crossed the porch and descended the steps, holding the camera under her jacket against the rain.

  She found Dylan in his studio, working on the mare and foal sculpture. He looked up as she stepped through the door and she pulled the camera out for him to see.

  “You found it? Where?”

  “Becky and Lizzie had it.”

  “What?” He got to his feet. “Did they take everything? Did they do—” he gestured to the rest of the room “—this?”

  “No. They invited me to search their bags, and I inspected every cabinet in the house. I believe the camera was separate. Stupid, but separate.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “These kids—I hate to say it—but I don’t understand how they can stay here. The situation gets worse by the day.”

  Jess put a hand on his arm. “Wait until tomorrow, when the deputy comes. If there’s new information, or no information, if the kids don’t have anything to say...then you can talk to your family about closing the camp.” She gave him a wry smile. “As Lizzie pointed out, you’re stuck with her till her family returns. I suggested detention or foster care, but those probably aren’t real options.”

  “Too bad,” Dylan said, his expression glum. “Maybe we’ll just lock her in a stall until her parents can be bothered to show up.”

  “I’ll volunteer for the first shift of guard duty.”

  That made him laugh. “You would, too.” He pulled her into his arms and set his cheek on her hair. “You’re a pleasure to have around, Jess Granger. I’m glad you careened into my life last Wednesday afternoon.”

  “Is that a comment on my driving?”

  An argument, especially a manufactured one, was a way to keep her emotions under control. Jess wanted to pull away as easily, as slowly as possible, putting distance between them so the break wouldn’t be as hard when it came.

  “What do you mean by ‘careened’?”

  * * *

  THE SHERIFF’S CAR arrived at promptly 10:00 a.m. on Tuesday morning. Wade Daughtry stepped out, and Dylan could tell he’d taken special care with his uniform to look as official and intimidating as possible. He was a big man, anyway, as tall as Wyatt and square with muscle. Dylan felt a little intimidated himself.

  “Hey, Wade.” They shook hands and then faced the kids, seated in a line on the edge of the porch. The rain had dried away and the day had dawned bright with sunshine. “Any news?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. Let me break it all at once.”

  “It’s your show.”

  Wade nodded to the rest of the Marshall clan and Caroline, and Dylan saw his eyes widen when he caught sight of Jess. But then he got right down to business.

  “I’m here because there’s been theft and vandalism recently on this property. Phones and computers went missing, along with money and credit cards. Property was damaged, and there was an attempt at arson. I want to ask each of you, at this moment, if you have any information related to these crimes or the person who might have committed these crimes.”

  Wade stared for a minute at each kid. He started with Becky, who flushed bright red, till all her freckles looked dark brown. She gave a tiny shake of her head. Lizzie, beside her, had gone white. Huddled with her arms wrapped around her waist, she said a silent, “No.”

  Lena hadn’t lost her self-confidence. “Nothing,” she said loudly. “I don’t know who would do that.”

  “Turn your phone off,” Wade told her, “and put it away till we’re done here.”

  She flashed him a resentful glare, but did as he said.

  Justino tried bravado. “You don’t have the right to question us,” he declared. “We’re minors. You need our parents’ permission.”

  “Understand that I’m here for information,” Wade said. “If I have to, I’ll take you to the office, call your dad and then I’ll question you. But you would probably prefer I do it right here.” The threat chilled his voice. “Do you know anything about these crimes?”

  The boy’s “no” sounded small.

  Nate didn’t have to be asked twice. “I would tell you if I did.” But Dylan saw his gaze slide toward Thomas and Marcos, sitting on his other side.

  Wade moved to stand directly in front of Thomas and Marcos. “You two have been in trouble before. I’m giving you a chance right now to get out of this before things get rough.”

  “I don’t know nothing,” Marcos said.

  Thomas snorted. “That’s crap. Ask him about his brother Jimmy. Go on, ask him.”

  Wade looked at Marcos. “Well? Your brother is Jimmy Oxendine. He’s got quite a record.”

  “Maybe, but I didn’t have nothing to do with this. Maybe you ought to check his friends out.” He nodded at Thomas. “Some of them ain’t such good guys.”

  “Don’t put this on me.” Thomas shoved at Marcos’s shoulder. “You’re the one who’s hanging with a gangsta crew.”

  The fight exploded in that instant. The boys lunged at each other, all the tensions of the past few days coming to a head. Swearing, punching and kicking, they rolled off the porch and onto the ground as the rest of the kids cleared the area.

  Standing closest, Dylan went for Marcos while Wade grappled for a grip on Thomas. Ford and Garrett joined the effort and finally, with one man holding each arm, the four of them pulled the struggling adversaries apart. Bloody noses and swollen eyes testified to the sincerity of their violence.

  Before anyone could say a word, a petite dynamo marched into the space between the two. “Enough,” Caroline shouted. “That’s enough. I’m ashamed of you both.” All the fight went out of Thomas and Marcos. They stood slumped and silent.

  Dylan did not, however, let go of the arm he held.

  “These boys are not going to admit knowing anything,” Caroline told Wade. She was as angry with him as with the boys. “If you have news, just tell us. If not, we’ve got wounds to patch up here.”

  “We found the phones and computers in a pawn shop down in Cheyenne,” Wade said. “And we got a video of the kid who brought them in. Roberto Pena.”

  Justino jumped to his feet. “I don’t believe you. My brother wouldn’t do something like this. No way!”

  Marcos lifted his head. “I told you I didn’t have nothing to do with it.”

  “So did I.” Thomas glared out of a rapidly blackening eye.

  “I didn’t doubt you,” Wade told them. “You’re the ones who fought about it.”

  Now they looked embarrassed as well as battered.

  “Why would Roberto come out here to steal?” Justino demanded. “To—to wreck things?”

  Ford sent the girls and Nate back to the bunkhouse and the cabin. Now he came to stand beside Justino. “Marcos and Thomas, go to the kitchen with Miss Caroline to get cleaned up and put some ice on those bruises. Justino, we can talk in the living room.”

  Once they’d settled, Wade explained. “It seems you’d been texting Roberto about this place you were staying and all th
e nice things just lying around. You know Roberto’s been caught stealing before. You know he has a drug habit. Maybe you didn’t know how jealous he’s been of the deal you’ve got here.”

  Justino looked genuinely surprised. “No, I didn’t—I wasn’t helping him do this. I swear.”

  Wade glanced at Ford and Wyatt. “I’m leaving that to the Marshalls to decide. But Roberto took advantage of all of you being on the cattle drive, which you told him about, too. And he decided to help himself to some of the property. Then, being the unpredictable sort, he got mad and did some damage. Maybe he thought you’d get blamed, and he’d get even.”

  Sitting with his head in his hands, Justino started speaking in Spanish. Some of the words even Dylan couldn’t translate, but some of them he could. “That’s enough.”

  The boy looked up. “I’ll go home. I’m sure you won’t want me here anymore. I can only say I’m sorry. I never meant for him—” He shook his head. “He’s so messed up.”

  “We’ll talk about it,” Wyatt said. “If we have the computers and phones back undamaged, that’s the main thing.”

  “We’ll need to keep them for evidence,” Wade said. “But eventually they’ll be returned to you.”

  “How old is Roberto?” Ford asked.

  “Eighteen,” Justino said.

  “He’ll be tried as an adult,” Wade added.

  “I’ll talk to him.” Ford got to his feet. “We’ll find out what can be done.”

  Dylan followed him into the dining room. “Are you saying you’re going to offer to defend Roberto on these charges?”

  “I’m saying I’ll learn what the situation is. He might be able to reduce the sentence if he pleads guilty and gets into rehab.”

  “Ford, you saw what he did in my studio. He ruined Jess’s bag and stole our property. Why would you defend him?”

  “Because the legal system works when even the guilty have representation. I’m not the best criminal attorney in the state. But I may be the only one he has access to.”

  “We have public defenders in this county.”

  “Overworked, underpaid public defenders. Let it rest for now, Dylan. We’ll have a meeting tonight and talk over the options.” He went through the door into the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation.

  When Dylan turned, he found Jess standing behind him. “Did you hear? Ford—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this. That aspect of the man’s mind is beyond my comprehension.”

  “Dylan?” Wade had stepped into the room. “I’m going to head out, unless there’s something else you folks need right now.”

  “No, we’ve got the facts, finally, thanks to you. When you arrived, I didn’t have a chance to introduce you to Jess Granger. Jess, this is Wade. He was a good friend of Ford’s in school.”

  Wade’s grin was shy as the two shook hands. “I’d heard Dylan brought a lovely lady into Kate’s the other night, but beautiful was obviously a better word choice. It’s nice to meet you, Jess. I hope you’ll be staying around for a while.”

  “Thanks, Wade. I wish I could stay, but I’ll be flying back to New York this week.”

  Dylan heard the finality in those words. She’d already booked a reservation. Jess had made definite arrangements to leave.

  “Well, that’s too bad. Maybe you’ll visit again sometime soon? Dylan could bring you into town for dinner again.”

  “It’s possible. I can’t say I enjoyed this morning, but I do appreciate what you’ve done.”

  It’s possible in that tone of voice meant not likely. And though Dylan had known the inevitable was coming, he still felt as if his insides were being shredded.

  “I’ll look forward to that,” Wade said. He held a hand out. “Take care. If you want my advice, you’ll wind up this camp and return those kids to their families. You’ve got an explosive situation up here.”

  “I believe I’ve mentioned that to the people in charge. But the kids deserve help and we’re doing what we can.”

  Wade shook his hand. “Good luck. I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Thanks, buddy.” He walked Wade to the front door, and saw Justino still sitting on the couch in the living room. The boy usually carried himself with pride, but at this moment he was hunched over his folded arms, defeated.

  Despite his reservations, Dylan couldn’t leave him there alone. He sat down on the recliner next to the fireplace. “It’ll work out, Justino. If you say you didn’t intend for your brother to hurt us, then we’ll believe you.”

  “I’m ashamed that he’s done this to your family. And I wish I could make it up to you, what he did to your workshop, your sculptures. But I can’t.”

  “No, you can’t. Except by making sure you don’t follow his example in your own life. Stay away from the kind of influences that led him to do these things. That would be what I would ask as a way to make amends.”

  Justino nodded. “I understand. Can I be excused now?”

  “Yes.” Dylan figured the boy would make a beeline for Lena—he hadn’t realized she’d been waiting on the front porch until he saw them walking away together, hands tightly clasped.

  Jess came into the living room and sat where Justino had been. “You are the most amazing man. What you said to him about making amends was perfect.”

  “It’s the only thing he can do.”

  “But not everyone would have been able to forgive and forget that way.”

  Dylan shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I guess, from what you said to Wade, that you’re getting ready to leave. Had enough of the Wild, Wild West this morning? It’s been pretty rowdy, I’ll say that.”

  “No. But I have to go back.”

  “I know.” He got to his feet, suddenly very tired. “I just hoped maybe I’d get a chance to change your mind before you left.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The meeting Ford had promised took place late in the evening, after a morning of rodeo practice and another bareback lesson for Lizzie, plus a long trail ride in the afternoon. The overall mood was tense, given the morning’s revelations, but Jess enjoyed her tour through different parts of the ranch. She found herself blinking away tears as she brushed out Cash’s coat. He’d been a good friend to her.

  Over a chili dinner, Caroline told the teenagers they could watch weeknight television that evening, something they hadn’t been allowed to do since coming to the ranch. Jess couldn’t help being pleased that most of them kept books in the vicinity as they sat around the bunkhouse—even Marcos had laid his baseball book on the arm of the sofa. He wasn’t reading it, but the possibility existed, which she considered a real achievement. Although her time with the kids had been short, she liked the idea that she’d made a difference in someone else’s life.

  With the kids occupied, the Marshall brothers and Caroline took their coffee and pieces of the apple pie Susannah had made into the living room and settled in the various chairs. Jess stayed with Susannah in the kitchen, but the open doorways made the conversation easy to hear.

  “So, we have some issues to deal with,” Ford said, his voice calm and cool. Jess smiled as she realized she could recognize each brother’s voice, having known the four of them for a only week. “We were aware this project would be a challenge when we took it on. I admit, these are the kinds of problems I foresaw when Caroline proposed the plan. But while I opposed the idea to begin with, I now believe we should do everything we can to keep the camp functioning with all the kids here. The question is...how?”

  “I agreed with Ford from the outset.” Dylan’s tone carried more energy, more urgency. “Because I was thinking about this show I have coming up and the work I wanted to complete. I understand that these teenagers need help, that their lives are at a tipping point, for better or for worse. But we’re the ones taking the punishment, here. I suggest we at least rearrange the program, make the schedule less intense. Have them on the ranch a couple of times a week, rather than staying here 24/7. I’ll drive around and pick th
em up myself, on the days they come. It would reduce our risk. There’s nothing to guarantee the same kind of crazy situation won’t come up again.”

  “The judge handed Justino, Marcos and Thomas over to my custody,” Caroline pointed out. “If they aren’t here, they go into a community service program five days a week.”

  “Then they could come here on the weekends,” Dylan replied. “Why wouldn’t that work?”

  “I’m tied up at church all day Sunday,” Garrett said. “I wouldn’t be here to help. And I think sending them home for most of the week dumps them into the environment we are trying to neutralize in the first place.”

  “We can’t save the world,” Dylan countered.

  “We can try.” Ford and Caroline said it together and there was laughter—though not, Jess thought, from Dylan.

  “Wyatt, what about you?” Ford asked.

  “We’ve had trouble, and I regret that.” The oldest Marshall’s voice was deep and measured. “But I’m of the same opinion now as at the beginning. We owe Henry MacPherson to help other kids the way he helped us.”

  “So we just continue on with the same plan?” Dylan’s patience had worn thin. “Not protecting ourselves, not making any effort to counteract the violence that shows up on an almost daily basis?”

  “That’s exaggerating, Dylan.” Garrett was irritated. “Come down off your high horse.”

  Jess caught her breath. “He shouldn’t have said that,” she whispered. Across the counter, Susannah shook her head, apprehension in her wide eyes.

  “My high horse? No, actually, that was not one of the sculptures that got damaged when Justino’s brother vandalized my studio. Thanks for your concern.”

  Garrett tried to retreat. “Look, I didn’t mean—”

  “And don’t worry about the destruction of Jess’s property, either. Some makeup, a leather bag—no big deal. She gets her phone and computer back, and we’ll cover the cash.” The rocking chair creaked, as it did when someone stood up. “Except that a guest in our house can’t assume she’s safe because we’ve got criminal elements on the property.”