But the Ability Ranch would be different. He couldn’t just wing it there. No. He’d have to explain. He’d have to watch their faces as he admitted to being a thirty-year-old dropout who struggled to read and write.
Shit. He couldn’t do that. It’d kill him.
Walker was the one shifting restlessly this time, and the horse danced a few feet to the side.
“Sorry,” Walker murmured. And he was sorry. Because even admitting his fears to himself made him ashamed. Those kids at the Ability Ranch had a lot more to deal with than dyslexia and pride, and here he was, telling himself he couldn’t do something simple like ask for help or admit his weakness.
Maybe he should be more worried that he was a jackass and a coward than the fact that he didn’t have a diploma. “Shit.”
He frowned and eased his mount forward a few feet as the first heads of cattle were loaded up.
A truck pulled up next to the trailer and a man got out to speak to one of the cowboys down below. Walker watched as the guy nodded and then swung his mount around to ride up the trail.
“Walker!” he called when he got closer. Walker moved the last dozen feet to meet him.
“Hey, there’s an emergency back home. Your dad is in the hospital and your brother’s flying in this afternoon.”
Walker cursed and looked away for a moment before nodding. “All right. Thanks for the information.”
“You should get going.”
“Naw, it’s fine. It’s already three. If my brother said he’d be there this afternoon, he’ll be at the hospital sooner than I will.”
“Yeah, but...it sounded pretty bad. I didn’t want to scare you, but they said your dad’s on a ventilator. That’s serious stuff.”
Walker nodded and said thanks again, but he walked his horse back to his post. Micah could take this one. There was nothing Walker could do anyway. If the old man was dying, he’d go more peacefully if the son he hated wasn’t there. And if he wasn’t dying, then Walker would get there tonight and spell his brother for an hour or two.
Walker had enough to deal with. He shouldn’t have to deal with his dad, too. He hadn’t even seen the man for two years before Micah had decided he had to go into a home.
It wasn’t fair, goddamn it. None of it was fair.
But then he remembered that last moment at the hospital, when his dad had so sweetly asked for his wife. A woman he thought he’d only been married to a year.
Jesus.
Walker pushed the cattle down the hill, his jaw aching from the way he clenched his teeth. It wasn’t fair, but it was fucking life, wasn’t it?
He broke away and rode down to the trailer. “I guess I’ll head out, after all,” he said, and took off for the campground to head back down.
He couldn’t let Micah face that alone. He couldn’t let Micah watch by himself as their father died. Walker might be a failure and an idiot, but he wasn’t the man his father was. He was better. He had to be better.
* * *
DESPITE THE LONG hours of waiting next to the hospital bed, Walker didn’t cry when his dad died. He didn’t feel even a lump in his throat. But he held Micah while he broke down, and Walker was glad to be there for his little brother. It’d been a long night, but in the end, it had been over mercifully fast. Faster than James Pearce had deserved, maybe.
He and Micah spoke to someone in hospital administration to make the initial arrangements, and then Walker drove his brother to his favorite diner for some much-needed food. The morning sun seemed too bright after that endless night in the hospital room.
“Shit,” Micah sighed into his coffee. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I always thought he was too mean to die.”
“Ha. Isn’t that my line?”
“Hell no. You think it wasn’t hard for me to watch how he treated you? And I know you protected me, but I still got my share of whippings.”
Walker laughed. “Remember that time you snuck the truck out to go drinking? I think you were fourteen.”
“Oh, shit. I couldn’t sit right for a week.”
“Spare the rod, I guess.”
Micah snorted. “I suppose. It’s a miracle I didn’t develop a taste for leather daddies and canings.”
“Jesus, Micah. I don’t know what either of those things is, and I don’t want to. I’m a nice country boy.”
“Nice, my ass.”
“Also something I don’t want to know.”
They both broke into deep laughter, which surprised even Walker. But it felt good. Cathartic. Like having a wake and letting someone go. There wouldn’t be a service. Their dad didn’t have any friends around, as far as they knew, and no family. They’d have him cremated and then interred at the local cemetery, so this place was as good a location for a wake as any.
“Do you remember that dog?” Micah asked.
“Which dog?” They’d had a couple over the years.
“That little terrier. Damn thing was smaller than a barn cat.”
For a moment, Walker drew a blank, but then he frowned in surprise. “God, I think I do. It died when we were little, though. You were only five or six, I think.”
“Killed by a coyote. Dad always acted like the dog was a nuisance, but he let him sleep inside at night and sometimes he’d feed him scraps under the table. Do you remember that? It was the weirdest thing. That big man and that scared little dog. And when it died, Dad took it out to bury it behind the barn like it was just another chore, but I heard him crying.”
“Dad?”
“I know. I snuck around the back of the barn, and he was sobbing as he dug that grave.”
Walker shook his head. “I swear, I don’t even know what to say to that. It makes no sense.”
Micah nodded and sipped his coffee. “It doesn’t make anything better, I know, but...I think Dad was the way he was because of Grandpa Pearce.”
Walker blew out a long breath. “That man was a true bastard.”
“Yeah. Meaner than Dad. I think Dad was terrified of him.”
Walker felt a shock at those words. “You think? He just always seemed angry. I can’t picture him scared.”
“I know, but whenever Grandpa Pearce came around, Dad spent all his time in the barn. He even skipped meals if he could. However mean Dad was, however badly he treated you, I think he got it worse as a kid. From his dad and his older brother. That’s what he learned. It’s what he knew.”
“Well, he could’ve learned better if he’d bothered. I’d never treat a kid that way.”
“I know that. You’d be a great father. If you ever managed to settle down.”
Walker didn’t know what to say in response. The thought of having his own kids filled him with a joy so deep it scared him. But the idea that he might pass his learning disability on... That scared him in a deep and different way.
But even if he didn’t have his own kids, maybe he could make up for the way his dad had lived. Maybe he could make that better even for himself.
Walker cleared his throat and shifted the last of the pancakes around on his plate. “Speaking of settling down...”
Micah raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve been thinking of getting that GED.”
“Holy crap, brother.” Micah reached across the table to slap his shoulder. “Yes. Don’t think about it. Just do it.”
“It’s just... It’s hard for me, Micah. It might take a while.”
“Because of your dyslexia? They make accommodations for that. I told you a long time ago that you can listen to the test on audio instead of reading it.”
“You did?”
“Hell yes, I did. How can you not remember that?”
Walker scrubbed a hand through his hair and told himself not to change the subject no matter how much he wanted to. “I don’t know. I don’t like to talk about it. Not even with you.”
“You just have to go to the community college and talk to someone.”
“At the college?”
“Yes, they’ve got clas
ses. They can give you extra time on the test. Jesus, Walker, just do it already. I’ve never seen somebody drag his feet more about anything.”
His brother said it so simply. As if it were no big deal. “Fine,” Walker said, pretending it was easy to face. “Christ. You’re like an old lady about this.”
“You think? Because I’ll take you out back and whip your ass if you don’t get it done.” Micah froze as soon as he said the words. “I’m sorry, Walk. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Walker just rolled his eyes. “Please. You couldn’t whip my ass if you tried, Mr. Administrator. I’m a man’s man.”
Micah grinned. “No. I’ve definitely got you beat in that department.”
And just like that, it was easy again. The horrible conversation was over. Walker would get his GED and then they’d never have to speak about it again.
They finished their food and drank another half a pot of coffee, and Walker let himself wonder if he could do something different with his life. Something he’d never expected.
“I’d better find a hotel,” Micah said, suddenly looking exhausted despite all the coffee.
“No way. You’ll stay with me.”
“I’ll be here for a few days. I’m not sleeping on your damn couch that long.”
“Fine. But at least come hang out tonight. We’ll order pizza. Watch a game.”
“Sure. Drop me off at my car?”
Micah excused himself to use the restroom, and Walker threw the tip down and headed for the cashier to pay. A stack of newspapers caught his eye with an unusually large headline across the front. Nothing like the normal celebrations of local parades and kids getting awards. This was real news.
Local Business Developers Under Investigation for Fraud
Walker grabbed a paper and handed over an extra dollar before moving slowly outside. Brow furrowed, he forced himself to concentrate on the tiny print. Even as slow a reader as he was, it didn’t take him long to find the names Keith Taggert and Meridian Resort. And then another name: Brad Allington.
He breathed out a curse and kept reading. This had to be about Charlie. It had to be. But he scanned the whole front page and didn’t find her name.
“Shit!” He closed his eyes for a second and then started over.
“Hey, brother, I was going to pay for breakfast.”
“Hold on,” he muttered, and held up a hand when Micah kept talking. “Just give me a second.”
He tried reading faster, but that didn’t work, so he slowed down again and just read the first sentence of each paragraph. Finally he found it.
An employee with security ties to the resort first brought this story to the attention of the paper via a voice recording. Owing to the explosive nature of the allegations, the paper contacted the district attorney’s office about—
“What’s going on?” Micah pressed.
“Holy shit,” Walker breathed. “It’s Charlie. It has to be.”
“Who’s Charlie?”
Walker looked up at his brother and shook his head. “No one.”
“No one? You look like Dad’s ghost just walked up and smacked you in the forehead.”
“She’s...no one,” he tried again, but Micah stared him down, suddenly looking every inch the older brother despite that he was younger by two years.
Walker spilled the whole story.
Five minutes later, they were sitting on the curb staring out at the highway together.
“Well, damn,” Micah said.
“Yeah. Damn.”
“You really like this girl?”
Walker nodded, his head slightly dizzy when he moved too much. “Yeah.”
“If this is true—” Micah tapped the story, which he’d read quickly through and then summarized for Walker “—you’re going to have some apologizing to do.”
“Yeah,” he said one more time, aware that it was likely the understatement of the century.
“Then drop me off at my car and get to it.”
“Sure. But... What if she doesn’t want to see me?”
His brother offered a hand and pulled him up. “Then I guess you’ll have to suffer in silence until she does.”
“Thanks. That helps a lot.”
“Come on. You’re the expert on women, Walker. Not me. If anyone can effectively beg forgiveness, it’s you.”
Walker felt so dazed he had to concentrate on driving to keep his mind from drifting. Had Charlie really done that? And had he pushed her into it?
He’d taken off at five o’clock the morning after their argument, and he hadn’t been back in town since. He hadn’t even been in cell phone range. One week on the mountain and all hell had broken loose. A hell he might have set in motion.
Micah looked at him as they pulled up to the hospital. “Whoever this girl is, whatever happens, she’s right about the Ability Ranch, you know.”
“She might be,” Walker conceded. “We’ll see.”
“If that’s why you’re looking into the GED, then you already know she’s right.”
He shrugged, feeling worse about it than ever. “Probably.”
“All right. I’ll call you later.”
“You think we should check about Dad?”
“I’ll call the mortuary,” Micah said. “You go on and find her. I’ll see you tonight.” He shut the door and walked toward his car.
“Micah!” Walker called, rolling down the window. His brother turned around. “Thanks for taking care of him. When I didn’t want to. When I refused to. Thanks for that. I’m the older brother. I should have done it.”
Micah just watched him for a moment, and then he smiled. “But you did everything else. You had to leave a little for me. I love you, Walker. Now go on. Make me proud.”
Shit. Walker felt the burn of tears in his eyes as he pulled away. But he managed to blink them back, too overwhelmed by panicked worry to indulge in anything deeper right now.
Her car was there when he arrived at the Stud Farm, and even though he’d feared he wouldn’t be able to find her, the fact that she was there felt like terror. Now he really would have to face her. He’d have to apologize. He’d have to walk away if she slammed the door in his face. Whatever anxiety he’d felt about his educational failings was nothing close to this, but he’d face it for her.
He ran to the building and took the stairs two at a time, the newspaper still clutched in his hand. The building was empty. No reporters milling about or police parked at the door. It seemed anticlimactic, but his heart was thundering like crazy when he stopped in front of her door and raised his hand.
Two deep breaths and then he did it. He knocked. And she opened the door right away.
Her face was pale. Her eyes shadowed with exhaustion. Her hair was mussed as if she’d just woken.
“Charlie?” he whispered. “Are you okay?”
Charlie took one step forward. Her lip trembled. And then she fell into his arms, sobbing. Walker just picked her up and held her. “I’m sorry,” he said, and she cried harder. His own tears finally fell.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“I’M SORRY,” he murmured again against her hair, pulling her tighter to him on the bed.
“You don’t have to keep saying that,” Charlie insisted, though she took the chance to kiss his chest one more time.
“I do have to keep saying it.”
“No. Anybody would’ve believed the worst. The whole thing was set up because it was so believable.”
“I’m not anybody,” he insisted. “I should’ve known.”
She just kissed his chest again, wishing she could sneak her hands beneath his shirt and feel his skin. But she didn’t know if that’s what this was now. After he’d shown up, she’d cried herself into such a mess that she’d kicked him out so she could shower. She’d stood in there for what seemed like an hour, letting the water wash away her tears, then she’d gone to his place to crawl under his covers and hide.
He’d joined her after his own shower. Even though he hel
d her, she didn’t know what it was. Even if it was only pity, she didn’t care. She’d been so alone all week. So utterly alone. Now she wanted to crawl inside him and feel safe. Thank God he seemed happy to play the part of protector for a little while.
When Rayleen had first told her he’d be gone for a week or two, Charlie had felt relieved. She wouldn’t have to face him or apologize or even explain. But then things had gotten intense. And scary. And she’d gotten so tired.
After she’d played the audio of her conversation with Keith for the editor of the paper, there’d been no turning back. A reporter had made a copy of the audio and contacted the D.A. right away to find out if they had a comment. Charlie had known that would happen. The point hadn’t been to keep the law out of it, but to get the truth in the public eye so Keith’s connections couldn’t sweep it under the rug or paint her as the bad guy.
But of course, her past had come into it. And then the interviews with police and attorneys. The phone calls from the paper. She’d been afraid then, and she’d wished for Walker. Just as a friend. Just as a presence who brought her a little peace.
“I should have told you earlier,” she said. “About Tahoe. I’m so sorry I didn’t. I just—”
“Stop, Charlie. You don’t need to apologize.”
“I do. Because I kept it from you on purpose, Walker.” Her throat burned and tried to close. She hoped he wouldn’t feel a few extra tears on his shirt. She’d already cried so many. “I wanted you to see me the way I used to be, before everything went so wrong. I lied to you. Even about this place. I had a room at the resort, but I didn’t want to tell you I was being bullied and harassed, because I didn’t want to be a woman who’d put up with that.”
“Hush. It doesn’t matter. I called you a thief. I think we’re even.”
“You think?” she asked, smiling past her tears.
“Damn close, at least.”
His chest rose beneath her and then he blew out a deep breath. She raised her head to look at him, but his hand guided her head back down. “Since we’re telling truths...”
“You don’t have to tell me anything else. You should sleep, Walker. You haven’t gotten any sleep, and your father—”
So Tough to Tame Page 26
