Cowboy Tough

by Stacy Finz

  Grandpa Dalton used to say that Angie danced to the beat of her own drum. Jace, who loved her like crazy, thought his grandfather was being kind. Flaky was more like it. She lived a high-risk nomad’s life, hooking up with fringe groups, traveling to remote corners of the world, and getting involved with weird causes.

  No one had ever voiced it out loud, but being a family of law enforcement types, everyone but Sawyer had thought it.

  Angela was likely dead.

  An exhaustive search and an open Los Angeles Police Department missing-persons investigation had turned up nothing. Not a body nor any clues to her whereabouts.

  Despite the lack of leads, Sawyer had never given up trying to find his sister, harboring what Jace thought was false hope that she was out there somewhere, alive and well.

  What about the cattle?” Sawyer returned to the topic of taxes. “How much do we stand to make when we bring our calves to market?”

  “Not enough,” Jace said. “We’d be lucky to come up with a third.”

  “A third is better than nothing.” Sawyer, the eternal optimist. Of course, unlike Jace and Cash, he’d grown up with wealthy parents and did plenty well on his own, especially without a family to feed. But even he didn’t have that kind of cash lying around. “I could hit up my folks for a loan.”

  “I don’t want to do that,” Jace said. He loved Uncle Dan and Aunt Wendy like they were his own parents, but when you started borrowing money from family, things got weird. Besides, if he and his cousins wanted to keep the ranch, they had to pull their own weight. This wasn’t a one-time deal. New year, new property-tax bill. And the amount on five hundred acres of prime California real estate was nothing to sneeze at. If they could at least get caught up, though, they might be able to manage the biannual payments.

  Maybe.

  “We’re once again at an impasse, I see.” Cash threw his hands up in the air. “You don’t even want to see if the county will let us break off some of the property to sell? You could keep the house, Jace. Sawyer could keep his barn loft and Aubrey and I the property where the cabins are, so we can build.”

  It wasn’t just the house, though Jace hated to uproot his sons. They’d been through enough, losing their mother, and the ranch house was the only home they knew. But unlike Cash and Sawyer, Jace had grown up here. After his parents and baby brother died in a car accident, his grandparents had raised him. Dry Creek ran though his veins like blood. And ranching was his heritage—a way of life for four generations of Daltons. Without the acreage, the ranch would amount to a gentleman’s farm and everything his grandfather had worked for would be gone.

  “I’ll cash out my 401(k) before I’ll split up the ranch.” The truth was, his retirement plan didn’t have all that much money in it, but at least it was a start.

  “And pay a huge penalty and get taxed up the ass?” Sawyer said. “Nah, we’ll figure something out. Maybe my book will get optioned for a movie and Bradley Cooper will play me.”

  “Yeah, more like Danny DeVito,” Jace tossed back, and Cash laughed. They needed to keep Sawyer from getting a big head. It was bad enough he was the best-looking of the three of them.

  “I guess we’re right back where we started.” Cash toed the dirt with his boot. “I’ve got to get to work, so let’s adjourn yet another fruitless meeting.”

  “What time is it?” Sawyer grabbed Jace’s wrist and checked his watch. “I better motor too. I need to make it to Sacramento in time to catch a flight to New York.”

  “What’s in New York?” Jace asked. He’d been hoping that Sawyer could watch the boys. School was closed for a teachers conference. Although Travis was old enough to look after his younger brother, the two of them left to their own devices were trouble.

  “Meeting with my agent and then catching the train to DC to do some interviews for the book. I’ll be back by next week, so don’t do anything rash while I’m away.”

  Jace turned to Cash. “What are you doing with Ellie?” Cash’s little girl was a year younger than Travis.

  “She and Aubrey went to San Francisco last night to go dress shopping for the wedding.”

  “Your wedding isn’t until June.”

  Cash shrugged. “According to the magazines Aubrey reads, now’s the time to buy the dress. Hey, what do I know? I’m just along for the ride.”

  Bullshit. Jace had never seen his cousin happier. And Aubrey, she was so freaking in love with Cash it made Jace nauseous. He fervently hoped their marriage worked out better than his and Mary Ann’s had.

  “You got someone to watch the boys?” Cash asked.

  His family was more than aware that Mrs. Jamison had quit. Jace was pretty sure Travis kept a secret scoreboard stashed under his bed of how many babysitters he and his brother had run off.

  “They should be okay for the day.” If Jace restricted their movements to the house and the immediate yard, they couldn’t get into too much mischief. “I’m working on getting them into an after-school program until I can hire a full-time person.”

  He desperately needed someone to shuttle them to their various activities, fix them supper when he couldn’t get home in time, and do light housekeeping.

  “Good luck with that.” Sawyer bobbed his chin at Jace. “Grady and the barn mouse incident have become the stuff of legend.”

  Jace’s youngest had dropped a rodent down one babysitter’s shirt. “Mrs. Jamison handled them just fine.”

  “Then why’d she quit?” Sawyer laughed. “You think it was because they called her Yoda?”

  Jace fixed Sawyer with a look. “Don’t you have to get to the airport?”

  “I was just leaving.” He headed to his Range Rover and Jace and Cash watched him drive away.

  “I better run too. A ranch in Rough and Ready got hit a few days ago. Three hundred sheep.”

  “Shit, that’s a lot of mutton. At least it sounds more exciting than my day. I have to meet Tiffany about the new campaign slogans.” He groaned. “Good times.”

  Cash elbowed him in the ribs. “Let’s hope Mill County has a short memory.”

  “You talking about that crap last summer with Aubrey dumping Mitch because of Jill? Everyone’s over it.” Jace waved his hand in the air dismissively, got in his truck, and drove the rutted trail back to the house.

  The CR-V was still in the driveway when he pulled in, which didn’t surprise him. Charlie was probably fast asleep. At dinnertime yesterday, he thought she might open up. But she’d stuck with her original story. None of it rang true to him, not even the part about going to Colorado to open a store. It was perfectly plausible, but his gut told him she’d made the whole thing up.

  He wished she would trust him with the truth. Otherwise, his hands were tied.

  By the time he got home from work this evening, she’d be gone. Hopefully, she’d go somewhere safe, somewhere where she could have a good life and leave behind whatever trouble plagued her.

  The boys were in the kitchen eating cereal when he got inside. Grady had the same shirt on that Charlie had mended for him the night before.

  “Hey, buddy”—Jace tugged on the Henley—“let’s wash this, okay?”

  “It’s clean.” Grady got up and put his bowl in the sink. “Smell it.”

  “Nah, I don’t want smell it. Go put another one on and I’ll throw it in the machine before I leave.”

  “Can I go to Ruben’s today?” Travis asked. “He got a new PlayStation.”

  Jace didn’t care much for Ruben. He thought he was a spoiled brat and a bully and would prefer that Travis hang out with his other friends. But he’d made it his policy to let his sons figure these things out for themselves.

  “Not today, bud. I want you and Grady to stick to home and go no further than the driveway.” He got down a bowl, filled it with cereal and milk, and took a big bite. “We clear on this?”

 
“Yes, sir,” both boys said at the same time.

  “I’ll try to get off early and we can have dinner at the coffee shop. How does that sound?”

  “Can we have waffles?” Grady asked. The kid could eat waffles morning, noon, and night. And Jimmy Ray, proprietor of Dry Creek’s sole restaurant, made the best chicken and waffles in the state. Hands down.

  “Sure.” Jace lightly squeezed the back of Grady’s neck. “Whatever you want, kiddo. Now go put on a clean shirt. Travis?”

  “I guess, but I’d rather go to Ruben’s. Can’t I just go for an hour?”

  “I need you around here to look after your brother. Okay?”

  Travis acted put-upon, but nodded.

  “Come here.” Jace called his eldest over. “Thank you for manning up.”

  “You’re welcome.” Travis shuffled his feet.

  Jace tried not to lean on him too hard. Ever since Mary Ann left, Travis had designated himself the family caretaker. It was a lot of weight for one skinny kid to carry.

  “No minibikes today, okay?”

  Travis rolled his eyes but tacitly agreed. Grady was too busy spinning around on the barstool.

  “Good morning.” Charlie came into the kitchen, carrying an overnight bag.

  She had on a pair of jeans and another oversized sweater. He suspected she was probably still showing a little bit from the pregnancy. What was different today was makeup. Not a lot, just some eye stuff that made her brown eyes look even larger and a little color on her cheeks.

  Again, he was struck by how pretty she was.

  He scanned her left hand and noticed the ring was missing.

  “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Have some coffee and breakfast before you hit the road.”

  “I couldn’t impose any more than I already have.”

  “No imposition,” he said and got up to make a fresh pot of coffee. “I have to get going, but I’ll load up your car before I go.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Your sewing machine is heavy.” He patted one of the barstools, signaling for her to sit. “It’s unlocked, right?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He took her duffel and grabbed the machine on his way through the mudroom. When he came back in from loading her CR-V she was getting two mugs down from the cupboard.

  “I’ve already had mine,” he said. “But help yourself. There’s eggs in the fridge and bread for toast, or if you’d prefer, cereal.” He pointed to the half-full box of Cheerios that was still on the counter. “I’m gonna take off.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.” She walked him to the back door.

  He stopped and gave her a long look. “Are you safe?”

  Her eyes fell to the ground. “Of course.” But her hands were shaking.

  He hesitated, tempted to tell her to stay until they could stop whoever was hurting her. But as long as she was reticent to tell him what was really going on, there was nothing he could do. “Do you have a solid plan?”

  This time she met his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Good. But if you change your mind and decide to get the law involved, you know where to find me.” He slipped her his business card. “Safe travels, Charlie.”

  She nodded and stood at the open door while he drove away.

  It hit him as soon as he reached the highway that he would never see her again and a strange kind of melancholy set in.

  * * * *

  Charlotte made herself an egg and sat at the breakfast table to eat. When she got on the road she wanted to keep going until she reached Utah. Then, maybe, she could stop looking over her shoulder. At least for a little while. But it was so cozy here in this big, mountain house that it was a little tough to leave.

  The ranch was so off the beaten path that it made her feel safe, even though it was too close to the Bay Area.

  Grady left the kitchen, came back several minutes later wearing a different shirt, and was clutching an old sock in his hand.

  “Mrs. Rogers, can you sew this with your machine for me?” He handed her the worn sock, which on closer inspection was a handmade sock puppet.

  A cowboy sock puppet, to be exact. The wool had faded to a light gray, the felt cowboy hat was slightly askew, and the poor thing was missing an eye. The toy seemed too young for a boy his age.

  She assessed the puppet’s empty eye socket. “Do you have the other one, Grady?”

  “No. Can you just make one?”

  “Not like this.” It was a sew-on wiggle eye from a craft shop. But a black button might do the trick. A winking cowboy. “Let me go out to my car and see what I can find in my sewing basket.”

  She could do it by hand and it would only take a few minutes.

  “I’ll come with you.” He leapt up and with his hand hit the top of the door frame separating the kitchen from the mudroom.

  “May I finish my breakfast first?”

  “Sure.” He sat his butt on the table next to her plate of eggs.

  “Where’s your brother?” The last time she looked, the older boy had been moping around the kitchen, like he’d lost his favorite dog.

  “Being a butthead because he can’t go to Ruben’s.”

  She presumed Ruben was one of his friends. It certainly wasn’t her place to look after him, but she knew Jace was in a bind as far as babysitters, though the boys were probably old enough to take care of themselves. The least she could do was keep an eye on them until she left.

  She got up, found his room, and knocked on the door. “Travis, is everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” he called.

  “May I come in?”

  No answer. But a few seconds later she heard footsteps and his door swung open to a large room with a full-size bed, a beanbag chair, and rodeo posters covering the walls. “I’m on the phone.”

  “Oh, okay. Sorry to disturb you.”

  She headed back to the kitchen when he called, “I thought you were leaving.”

  “Soon.” Clearly she’d worn out her welcome with at least one of the Daltons. “Come out and say goodbye when you finish your phone call.”

  Back in the kitchen, Grady was standing on the kitchen counter reaching inside one of the upper cabinets.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Candy. My dad keeps it up here so we can’t get into it.”

  “Hmm, sounds like you’re breaking the rules, then.” She hated to be a buzzkill, but it was sort of early for candy.

  “It’s okay, he won’t care.”

  She arched a brow, doubtful. But why stop him? He’d just eat it the minute she left.

  Charlotte took her plate to the sink, where a pile of dishes was starting to resemble the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and washed them all. And because she couldn’t help herself, dried and put them away as well.

  “You ready to see what I’ve got in the back of my car?” she asked Grady, who was now shooting wadded up Starburst wrappers across the room with a rubber band.

  “Let’s do it.” He thumped his chest and she hid a smile.

  By the time they got to the car, Charlotte wished she’d remembered her coat. Grady, who only had a T-shirt on, seemed oblivious to the weather.

  “How come you’ve got so much stuff back here?” He sat on her bumper as she rummaged through her basket.

  “Uh, because I’m moving. How about this?” She held up a black button about the same size as the existing wiggle eye.

  “That’ll work. Where are you moving?”

  “Kan—Colorado.” She’d almost forgotten what she’d told Jace the night before. Lying had never been her forte. Perhaps if she’d been good at it, she would’ve managed to hide her pregnancy from Corbin. “Let me just find a needle and some gray thread.”

  She got what she needed and they walked back t
o the house; rather, she walked. Grady ran, jumped up and down the back porch stairs, then walked across the railing as if it was a tightrope, nearly giving her a heart attack.

  “Where’s the sock puppet?” It wasn’t on the kitchen table where Charlotte had left it.

  “I threw it away,” Travis said. He was leaning against the sink counter, eating a banana.

  “It’s mine, Travis. Not yours.” Grady pushed him aside, opened the cabinet door, and dug through the trash until he found it.

  “It’s stupid.” Travis shoved him and grabbed the puppet, holding it over Grady’s head.

  The next thing Charlotte knew, the two boys were on the floor, brawling. They were yelling and slugging each other. For a second, she disconnected, blocking out the noise. The hitting. And just as quickly she remembered she was the only adult in the room.

  “Boys, stop it! Stop it now.”

  They either ignored her or couldn’t hear between the punching and shouting.

  She raised her voice. “Travis. Grady. If you don’t stop it now, I’ll call your father.”

  That got their attention. Travis rolled off Grady, who got an extra jab in before crawling across the floor to retrieve his sock puppet.

  “Look what you did,” he whined. “You pulled out the other eye and the hat’s off. I hate you, Travis.”

  “It’s a stupid puppet for babies. You’re not a baby anymore, Grady, so grow up.”

  Grady began to cry. “Mom made it for me and you ruined it.”

  And there it was. The boy loved his mother. The woman clearly wasn’t around anymore, but the puppet still was. Charlotte felt her chest squeeze.

  “I can fix it, Grady. I can make it like new.”

  He looked up at her with big blue eyes and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Then he turned to Travis and socked him in the arm. To Travis’s credit, he didn’t hit his brother back. Still, there was resentment there. The older boy’s entire body fairly vibrated with it. It didn’t take a psychologist to decipher who the anger was directed at. And it wasn’t Grady.

  She held her hands out to both boys and helped pull them off the floor. They were solid kids and still weak from her miscarriage, she staggered back from the effort.