by Home Fires
“You like them?”
“They’re fantastic.”
“Bareback?” Casie said.
Colt shrugged, but his expression was sheepish. “What can I say? She’s a prodigy.”
“Aren’t prodigies …” Emily shifted her dubious attention to Linette’s lined face.
Silence settled in for a full heartbeat.
Ty shifted his gaze from Em to Linette, nerves already cranking tight. “Taller?” he guessed.
The laughter started with Linette, spread to Emily, then caught on like wildfire.
In the end Ty himself could do nothing but laugh. It felt odd—frightening and soothing and helpless all at once—warming his belly, loosening something in his chest he hadn’t known was tight.
The sounds were just beginning to dissipate when tires crunched on the gravel outside.
Still chuckling, Casie turned toward the door. “That must be Dr. Sarah now,” she said, but Sophie was already on her feet and hurrying around the table.
“I’ve got it,” she said.
“Ask her in for breakfast,” Em said.
“Be nice.” Casie’s voice was very quiet as the girl passed her, but even Ty heard it.
Sophie slashed her glance to his, cheeks pink again. “I hardly ever eat anyone,” she said.
Casie raised her brows in mock fear as Sophie disappeared from sight. The door opened. There was a murmur of voices.
Emily shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Sometimes death threats are extremely effective.”
Casie grinned and turned her mind back to Linette. “You’ll be careful, right?”
“Careful’s for kids,” she said. “If I’m not going to take risks now, when will I?”
“After you leave the Lazy perfectly healthy and happy?” Casie suggested.
Linette laughed. “I am happy, and sometimes that’s all you can hope—”
“Case.” Sophie appeared in the doorway. “There’s someone here for you.”
“What?” She straightened and turned toward the entry.
“It’s not Dr. Sarah?” Emily asked.
Sophie shook her head as she retrieved her coffee mug. “Some guy with a briefcase.”
“A briefcase,” Colt said and chuckled a little as he leaned back in his chair. “He must be lost. Hey, Em …” He motioned to his plate. “Someone stole my breakfast.”
“Geez,” she said, building a new pile of pancakes onto a platter. “We could feed a thrashing crew for less than—” But her words stopped abruptly as Casie stepped back into the room. “What’s wrong?”
They turned toward Casie in unison. Her face was pale. There was a manila envelope in her hand.
Colt rose to his feet. All humor had been leached from his face.
Ty felt his gut clench, felt premonition curdle like old milk in his stomach.
“Casie,” Colt said, eyes narrowed as he stepped toward her. “What’s in the envelope?”
“A subpoena.” Her voice was ghostly.
“A subpoena?” Linette glanced from one to the other. “For what?”
“I don’t …” Casie glanced down. Her hands looked unsteady. “I can’t even guess.”
“Because you haven’t done anything wrong?” Linette asked. “Or because you can’t narrow it down to a single event?”
Casie laughed. The sound was shaky. She turned her gaze to Colt, and in that second Ty felt that awful knot of jealousy twist tight in his stomach again. He wanted to be there for her. He wanted to save her. Make her smile. Make her face light up like a spring morning. Instead, he made her life harder at every turn.
“I don’t know …” Casie began brokenly, but Colt stopped her.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be all right.”
“But …” she began and brought her gaze to Ty’s. There was no accusation there. No animosity whatsoever. And maybe that’s what made the situation unbearable.
Rising woodenly to his feet, he pushed away from the table and escaped.
CHAPTER 24
“How’s she doing?” Casie kept her voice low as she approached Ty from behind, but he jumped anyway, his chapped hand jerking where it rested on Angel’s neck.
It took him a second to respond. “All right, I guess,” he said, but he didn’t turn to look at her. It was reminiscent of the early days, when he would come here for refuge. Come here with a bruised face and battered soul. Her heart twisted at the thought, crumbled at the idea that they were back at the beginning.
“We’re becoming a regular convalescent camp,” she said and stepped a little closer. He didn’t respond. She gazed over the stall door at the gray, who nudged Ty with her nose, silently complaining about the lack of attention.
He stroked her distractedly.
“She seems more comfortable,” Casie said.
He said nothing.
“Sam’s supposed to come today to check on her. I think that will—”
“I’m sorry.” He said the words quickly and a little too loud.
“It’s okay.” Casie forced a smile. “She’s not that bad. Maybe she’ll even wear a real shirt this time,” she said, but he failed to laugh. Instead, he turned his eyes toward her. They were haunted and tired, as old as forever.
“It’s because of me, isn’t it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what—”
“The subpoena—” He bit off the word as if it were poison. “It’s because of my folks.”
She stared at him. “Don’t worry about that, Ty. It’s going to be fine.”
They stared at each other. He shook his head, choked a laugh. “Or is it because I …” He motioned toward the pair in the adjacent stall. “Is it because I stole a horse?”
She shook her head, agonized by his expression, by his faultfinding. “Freedom needed saving. It was an act of kindness.” She didn’t have to force a smile as she turned toward the stall next door. “Look how happy she is.”
There was no more pacing, no wild-eyed worry. Instead, the mare stood in the center of her stall, one hip cocked, muzzle resting lovingly on her scrawny baby’s bushy tail.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” he said.
“The way I heard it, it was Sophie’s idea.”
“It wasn’t. It was—”
“You don’t need to lie,” she said quietly.
He swallowed and shook his head. “I should have talked her out of it.”
She laughed, despite everything. “God himself couldn’t have talked Sophie out of that, Ty.”
“I’m a weakling,” he said. The words were almost inaudible.
“What?” She stepped closer, drawn in by the pain in his voice. “What’d you say?”
“Mom’s right,” he said, and swallowing, turned away. “I ain’t got no backbone at—”
“Ty!” Her voice was sharper than she meant it to be. She took a deep breath and steadied her hands. “Your mother’s a …” She stopped herself, though it took every ounce of fortitude she had. “Your mother’s not right. Not about that … not about a lot of things.”
A muscle twitched in his face. He shook his head, but she rushed on before he could speak.
“I’m not condoning theft,” she said. “But this horse …” She glanced at the mare next door again. She was nibbling gently at her foal’s rump, delicate kisses that spoke of adoration, of unbridled happiness. “Freedom …” She smiled. Her eyes stung. She cleared her throat. “It took a lot of nerve to sneak into that barn. A lot of nerve to bring her here.”
He shook his head again, expression pinched. “Sophie’s the brave one. I just followed along. I didn’t mean to cause you no trouble. I didn’t think …” He paused, winced. “I just didn’t think,” he whispered. “And now here you are in trouble because of my stupid—”
“It’s not something you did,” Casie said.
He stopped, scowled.
She cleared her throat, fiddled with a piece of straw cau
ght between the stall door and the frame. “It’s something I did.”
He stared at her in silence for several seconds, eyes narrowed, breath held before he spoke. “You’re lyin’,” he said. “You’re lying to protect me. But I ain’t no little kid, Case. I can handle it. Just tell me the truth.”
“It’s because I didn’t guard Sophie closely enough. I shouldn’t have allowed her to go out with a guy I knew nothing about. I should have said no, regardless of what her father wanted. I’m sorry you had to be the one to protect her.”
He blinked at her and for a second she thought she might have won this battle, but he pursed his lips. “So you are in trouble cuz of me.”
“No!” she said. “The Pritchards don’t have a case. They’re lawyers—just looking to make trouble because their idiot son is …” She shrugged. “An idiot. It’s not your fault. Listen to me, Ty. This guilt thing you have going on … I’m no therapist, but you’ve got to quit blaming yourself. It’s going to eat you up.”
“You afraid I’m gonna go crazy or something?”
She opened her mouth, though honestly, she had no idea what she planned to say.
“You think I’m crazy already?”
Casie exhaled and raised her chin a little. Calm settled in like a fog, making her limbs feel heavy, her mind feel free. Let the bastards sue her, she thought. See where it got them. “I think you’re the most honorable person I’ve ever met,” she said.
He shook his head once, but she spoke again before he could argue. “I think that I’m lucky to know you. I think we’re all lucky to know you. And I think your mother—” She stopped before she found herself climbing into Puke and kicking the stuffing out of the stupid cow again. “She didn’t deserve you.”
He searched her eyes and she let him. There was nothing to see there but the truth.
He drew a deep breath as if trying to believe, as if struggling for balance. “What you going to do about the subpoena?”
She shrugged, nerves cranking up a little again. “I’m going to show up in court and tell them the truth.”
He looked like he was going to throw up. And for some reason that made her laugh. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“They can put you in jail.”
The laughter froze on her lips. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach, too, but she took a deep breath and smiled, pretending confidence as best she could. “They’re not going to put me in jail,” she said.
“You could lose the Lazy.”
Well, yes, she thought. That could happen.
It was later that night that Casie stood in Freedom’s stall. The mare swished her tail, seeming unconcerned by her uninvited guest’s after-hours visit. The foal touched his muzzle to Casie’s leg tentatively, then jerked away and galloped a wild circuit around the narrow enclosure.
His antics brought tears stinging to Casie’s eyes.
She could lose this, she thought. She could lose it all. She gritted her teeth against the injustice of it, but her tears fell nevertheless. Anger flared through her. She banged her fist against the wall.
“It’s easier if you use a hammer.”
She jerked at the sound of Colt’s voice, pivoting away to hide her tears.
“I was just …” She cleared her throat. Closed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know. I was bored.”
“It’s two o’clock in the morning.”
“Yeah, not much going on this time of day.”
“Go to bed.”
“Is that an invitation?”
She snorted and chanced a glance in his direction. His grin was cocksure, but there was something in his eyes. Understanding, maybe. Or pity. She hated pity.
“Linette’s right,” he said, changing the subject as he folded his forearms across the top of the stall door. “That is one ugly foal.”
She glanced at the colt, then surreptitiously swiped at the tears with the back of her hand. “Is not.”
“He looks like a llama.”
“He doesn’t …” She tilted her head a little, studying the misshapen head, the long curling whiskers on his chin. “Llamas are cute.”
He chuckled as he stepped into the stall. For a second she was tempted to brush past him, to hurry out of sight. But she hated being a coward. Or maybe she was just tired. She turned toward him, hoping against hope that he hadn’t heard her crying, that he couldn’t read her eyes. But his expression was atypically sober, his mouth for once unbent by humor.
“Let me help,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” She took a step back and gave him her best look of confusion, her best upbeat tone. “Help with what?”
“Anything.” There was angst in his voice suddenly, sounding harsh in the aftermath of her forced cheeriness.
“I don’t need any help. Everything’s fine. Angel’s recuperating. Freedom’s doing well. The Lazy—”
“Let me hire an attorney.”
She gave him a shocked expression. “For what?”
“You did the right thing,” he said, and there was something in his eyes. Something that threatened to warm her belly and soften her heart, but she refused to acknowledge it. Just stood, instead, watching him. “God, I’ve never been happier than when you beat the crap out of Ty’s bitch of a …” He stopped himself with an obvious effort. “Just let me help.”
The rumbling sincerity of his tone was desperately tempting, but she’d been seduced into letting others run her life before. And look where that had gotten her. She’d all but lost the ranch. All but lost herself. She shook her head and reached up to stroke Freedom’s face. It was as delicate as a porcelain vase. “It’ll be fine. Like you said …” She swallowed. “I was justified. Besides, that’s not what the subpoena was for.”
“What then?”
“David Pritchard’s parents are suing me.”
“Pritchard! The snotty kid in the Camaro?”
“They allege that he was in danger while on my property. Therefore I’m responsible.”
“Are you kidding me? He was drinking. And he’s twice as big as Ty.”
“I’m still responsible.”
“That’s bull. That’ll never stand up in court.”
“Maybe you’re not an expert on responsibility,” she said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone had gone dark.
She turned to face him. “Are you even paying child support?” she asked and felt a dark release at the change of topic.
He said nothing.
“For your daughter,” she said, voice rising as she faced him. “Are you even helping with the day-to-day—”
“I don’t have a daughter,” he said.
She stared at him, then huffed a laugh. “What is it, Dickenson? Don’t tell me you thought the mother should be exclusive even if you—”
“She had an abortion.”
Casie blinked. “What?”
He glanced away. His jaw looked hard, but his eyes were wounded. “She, ahh … she said she was going to if I didn’t … If we didn’t …” He swallowed.
“If you didn’t marry her?” Her voice was just a whisper.
He cleared his throat but didn’t look at her. “I didn’t believe her. I mean, I knew she was …” He chuckled. The sound was broken. “I knew she was seeing Hedley.”
“Brooks? She was dating Brooks?”
“She’s a mounted shooter, too. She’s good. Nationally ranked. And maybe she didn’t want the baby… .” He cleared his throat again. “Maybe she thought she’d lose her competitive edge if she was pregnant. Or maybe Hedley …” He shook his head. “He and I … we always butted heads. I should have known he wouldn’t have wanted her to …” He drew a deep breath and straightened to face her. “I made mistakes, Case. Terrible mistakes. But the thought of having a baby … a little girl …” His eyes misted. He glanced away. “I learned everything I could about …” He exhaled. “About labor and delivery. I would have supported her in
every way I could.”
“Except emotionally.” She knew all about that. Her own father had been as distant as a mirage. “Except for being a real father to her.”
“I screwed up,” he said. “I realize that.”
“And how do I know what you would have done?” she asked.
“I thought you knew me.”
“Did you?” she asked. “Really? How would I? It’s not like you confide in me. Geez, you were going to be a father, and I would have never even known if Brooks hadn’t told me.”
“So you want to know about me now? Okay.” He jerked a nod. “I broke a couple of ribs last year. I don’t like asparagus. I can be a bear in the morning if my coffee—”
“Maybe you wanted her to get an abortion.”
He stopped cold. “Maybe I did.” His voice was very soft. “Maybe in some cowardly part of me I hoped she would.” He swallowed and clenched his teeth. “If that’s the truth, I’m sorry. But I can’t turn back the clock.” His eyes were dark and pained, drawing her in, but she held tight to her reserves.
“Brad lied to me, too,” she reminded herself.
“I’m not your damn fiancé!”
“No. As it turned out, he didn’t get anyone pregnant!”
The world went silent. He stared at her a long moment, then opened the door behind him and disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER 25
Linette was soaring, flying on horseback. The world below spread out beneath her like a magic carpet, robed in colors so bright they all but hurt her eyes. Between her legs, the palomino stallion glided like a silken ribbon.
She reached forward to caress the animal’s neck. His hide was as smooth as sun-warmed satin, as bright as gold. His muscles rippled like waves beneath her palm.
But something sprang at them suddenly. She saw the movement from the corner of her eye, and in that instant the stallion reared. She leaned into his crest, reaching for the mane that sprayed across her waist like corn silk. Her fingers caught nothing but air, and suddenly she was falling.
The earth rushed toward her. The impact hit her like a rock.
She awoke with a start. Pain burned her hip. She put a hand to the ache and sat up slowly, grappling for her bearings. But instead of the white walls and blinking monitors she had become accustomed to, she found she was surrounded by a rustic simplicity that eased her heart rate and steadied her breathing. The burnt-umber walls and rough-cut furniture reminded her where she was. Who she was. Who she used to think she would become.
