Promise Kept

by Mitzi Pool Bridges

  For the millionth time, she wondered how she could have been so stupid and quit school. It wasn’t that she didn’t like what she was doing; she’d loved it. It certainly wasn’t because she was failing her courses; she’d made exemplary grades. No. She’d fallen in love, had been swept off her feet by Victor Whitmire. With his litany of home, family, security, she thought she’d found a man with all the attributes she wanted in a husband. But he’d been a big disappointment almost from the beginning.

  She joined Mark and Nellie in the family room. Thanks to Nellie, Mark was ready for bed. Seeing him sitting there, eyes glued to a movie, his hands mechanically moving popcorn to his mouth, gave her more pleasure than anything. This was the reason she’d run so far.

  Mark was everything.

  She adored him. From the moment she had seen him in the delivery room she’d known it would be the two of them against the world.

  When the nurse asked if there was anyone she could call, Phyl had smiled her thanks and said no. Victor was off on one of his get-rich-quick trips. There was no one else. No loving family. Not even a close friend.

  She’d called Victor’s cell phone to tell him that he had a beautiful son, but the phone was disconnected. Probably because he didn’t pay the bill. It was the one thing she wouldn’t pay for. Not after the three hundred dollar bill he ran up in one month. She’d canceled the contract, paid off the bill in installments, and told him if he wanted a cell phone he had to get it on his own.

  She’d had Mark alone.

  So far, she’d raised him alone.

  She would protect him alone.

  Leaving him with Nellie, she took another hot shower, put on a T-shirt and a hip-length robe TJ had left in her closet.

  Gathering up her dirty clothes, Phyl went downstairs.

  Luckily, Donovan was nowhere to be seen. She started the laundry, then walked back to the family room. Mark had scarfed down his bowl of popcorn, the evidence visible on the coffee table.

  “Time for bed,” she said.

  “The movie’s not over,” he whined.

  “We’ll finish it tomorrow night,” Nellie promised, turning off the TV. She picked up the bowls, and headed for the kitchen.

  “Help Nellie, then come upstairs. I’m too tired to argue.”

  Mark, sensing the truth in his mother’s words, did as he was told. He grabbed their glasses, took them to the kitchen, and followed Phyl to their room.

  Once there, he picked up his car, crawled into bed with it.

  She kissed him on the forehead. “‘Night, Mark.”

  “‘Night, Mom.” He paused a minute, put his arms around her neck. “Can I ride Lily tomorrow?”

  “We’ll see,” she said as she tucked the covers around him.

  He was asleep before she turned away. Little wonder. He’d been on the go since dawn. Never slowing down. Never stopping. Mostly her fault, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Even now, in the safety of the Callahan ranch, she turned out all the lights, except the small nightlight in the bathroom, and went to the window. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stood there and watched.

  Everything looked as it should. Nice and peaceful.

  If only her life were the same.

  Donovan walked out of the barn. She leaned closer to the window to watch. From the way he walked, steady and sure, she knew everything was all right.

  She watched him until he disappeared under the eave of the porch.

  Please don’t make us leave.

  She waited for his door to close before she went downstairs. After checking to make sure the blood had washed out, she put her clothes in the dryer. Going back to her room, she climbed into bed, stretched, moaned into the darkness as her arms and shoulders reminded her they didn’t appreciate the treatment she’d given them.

  She heard Donovan in his room, could imagine him walking across the floor, taking off his shirt, then his jeans. Stop! Sure, he was a hunk. He was also the man who could send them away, put them on the run again. If he did, she’d be looking over her shoulder every minute, watching, waiting for that promised bullet.

  Turning over, she tried to get more comfortable. Was he thinking of how he’d tell her she wasn’t needed anymore?

  Mark snored lightly not ten feet away, the sound comforting in the silence.

  If they had to leave, could she keep him this safe? This happy? She didn’t think so. He’d taken to the ranch, to Nellie and to Donovan so quickly it frightened her in a different way.

  What could she possibly tell Mark that would convince him they had to leave?

  Flopping onto her back, she tossed and turned, then realized that even as tired as she was, sleep wasn’t coming.

  Sitting up, she knew why.

  She’d promised Donovan a list of jobs unfinished or pending on the ranch. In the excitement of the birthing, she’d forgotten. Anyway, she needed her clean clothes for tomorrow.

  Scrambling out of bed, she pulled on her robe and went to the door. Opened it.

  Silence.

  She padded downstairs in bare feet.

  She folded her clothes, went to make the list. It wouldn’t take long on the computer.

  Familiar with the house, she made her way to the office with no light other than the moon’s glow filtering through the windows. There, she flipped on the desk lamp, then the computer.

  Just as she’d thought, it didn’t take but a few minutes. Of course, she could only catalog the big and the obvious. On a ranch there were always little things that took your time and attention—always a few surprises. But Donovan knew that.

  Reading down the short list, she decided it was complete enough and set it to print. She felt a tug of satisfaction at just how short it was. She’d done a good job here. Would Donovan see that? Or would he see she hadn’t done everything?

  Just as the printer came on, there was a noise.

  Her heart stilled. Her mind flew to Mark, alone in their room.

  Grabbing a stapler, she pushed the chair back, stood and turned, raising the stapler to her shoulder at the same time.

  “You goin’ to hit me with that thing? Or just staple me to death?” Donovan drawled.

  He had on jeans and nothing else. Dark hair covered his chest. She couldn’t keep her eyes from following it down.

  A real hunk. She felt a shiver of appreciation, the first in a very long time.

  Slumping in relief, she put the stapler back on the desk. “You frightened me.”

  “Sorry. Heard noises. Didn’t know I’d find you. Figured you’d be knocked out.”

  He moved into the room, and though it was large, it seemed small with him in it.

  She gave him another quick glance. He looked good with his hair tousled, and dangerous with his scruffy beard and dark, somber eyes.

  She took a deep breath, grabbed the paper from the printer, and handed it to him. “The list you wanted. Couldn’t sleep until I finished it.”

  He shook his head. “It could’ve waited.”

  Anxiety tore at her. She had to know what to expect. If she had to leave, there were plans to make.

  Looking straight into his eyes, she decided now was as good a time as any. No matter what, she’d keep Mark safe.

  The scene in her house the day they left California whipped through her head and made her hands shake.

  Swallowing hard, she asked the question that would decide her and Mark’s fate. “What are your plans now that you’re back? Will you keep me on? Or will Mark and I have to leave?”

  Chapter Four

  Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fright. He’d startled her. But her reaction was too intense for the situation. It seemed to take an effort on her part to smooth away the scare.

  Just who was Phylis Leander?

  She tilted her head expectantly.

  How could he answer her question?

  He looked down at the paper in his hand. It was the kind of list he’d make himself. The big jobs were listed first, the smaller one
s last. And it was short. Did that mean there were jobs she hadn’t listed? Or that she didn’t know? No. She’d proven earlier that she knew her way around a cattle ranch, but he still had doubts.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked.

  He looked up from the paper in his hand into large anxiety-filled eyes.

  His plan had been to come home, make sure his mom was well, then leave. Not complicated at all.

  Only it was. Even though he’d expected either she or Dugan would hire someone to tend the ranch, he hadn’t expected it to be a woman. Certainly not one who lived in the house with a kid who acted right at home—and certainly not one who seemed frightened out of her wits at the slightest provocation.

  He cleared his throat. The thing of it was, Mom seemed taken with them and he didn’t have his plans squared away just yet. Truth was, he didn’t have any plans. “Let me get my feet on the ground. Then we’ll see,” he said.

  “Fair enough. Good night, then.” She nodded curtly, grabbed an armload of clothes, and left the room.

  He watched her leave. It was easy to do. In that short robe all he could see were a pair of floor-to-ceiling legs—legs that were definitely worth looking at. Jeez! Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he tried to wipe out the picture. Failed.

  What was there about her? She seemed awfully anxious about her job. The ranch demanded hours of grueling labor. There had to be other things she could do that wouldn’t be so hard on the body or so demanding, something less rigorous. Or was it that she liked ranching?

  The question was still there. If he decided to stay, would it be practical to keep her on?

  The answer was a resounding no.

  He trudged upstairs, passed TJ’s old room where Phyl and her son were making themselves at home. A flick of the switch in his own room revealed the same maple furniture he’d had as a kid. A round multi-colored braided rug his mom had made years ago lay on the floor at the end of the bed. All familiar, yet he felt alienated.

  He flipped off the light, sat on the edge of the bed, let his head drop into his hands. This had been his home since birth, but the woman and her son across the hall probably felt more comfortable here than he did.

  He stood, went again to stare out the window. The moon illuminated the barns, the horses, and the small herd of cattle locked in the corral. According to the list in his pocket, they were scheduled for shots in the morning.

  He had to commend Phyl on her organizational skills, and on her composure and skill with birthing calves. But why had she been so frightened when he came in the office? It didn’t compute.

  Still, her question nagged. Would he stay and let her go? Or leave again, and she wouldn’t have to worry about her job?

  ****

  When he awoke, sun was pouring through the window. In less than ten minutes, he was in the kitchen.

  His mother sat at the table, a pen and paper in hand.

  “Donovan. You should have slept in.”

  “I did. It’s late.” He looked around.

  Mom anticipated his next question. “Phyl’s been up a while. She’s always out of here by the time I get downstairs.” She chuckled. “The first couple of days after she came, it bothered me. She’d grab breakfast on the run and work all morning without a break. I’ve grown accustomed to her routine now.”

  “What about the kid?”

  “With his mom.”

  “She takes him with her?” That didn’t make sense. He could get in the way—get hurt.

  “She insists. I told her I’d be glad to watch him, but she won’t hear of it.”

  Nellie dished up Donovan’s breakfast, which he ate in record time. When he slammed on his Stetson, he realized he couldn’t wait to see how Phyl managed the ranch and a boisterous kid at the same time.

  Donovan spotted Mark immediately. He was in the barn, hanging over the rail, watching the newborn calf with avid interest while ignoring a coloring book and crayons on the straw-covered floor beside him.

  He sprinted over to Donovan. “Come look.”

  Donovan couldn’t hold back a smile. How could he? The kid was jumping up and down with pure excitement. Sure enough, the calf was getting her breakfast. “She’s hungry,” he told Mark. After watching a minute, Donovan walked off toward the corral. Mark followed.

  They were just in time to watch Phyl swat the rump of a six-month-old heifer, usher her out the gate and into the pasture.

  He admired the efficiency with which she moved one out, then another into the headlock. She patted the calf on the head, reached behind her for the needle. With practiced skill, she shot the calf in the rump, unlocked the gate. Another calf was vaccinated.

  “Need help?” he asked.

  She spotted Mark. “You’re supposed to stay in the barn, Mark. You know the rules.”

  What rules? Donovan thought. The kid had to be bored out of his skull with nothing to do but color in a book.

  “Can I help?” Mark asked, looking up at Donovan. “Mom says I’m too little, but I like to work.”

  “You would be in the way. Let’s stick to the routine.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt for the kid to get his hands dirty,” Donovan drawled, unable to stop himself from siding with Mark. Inwardly, Donovan groaned. Just what he didn’t need—a kid underfoot.

  She looked at Donovan with anything but appreciation. It was a look that said his interference wasn’t welcome.

  “Can I, Mom? Please? I promise to be good.”

  Phyl wiped sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her shirt. “I won’t have him in the way. There’s too much to do.”

  Donovan’s gaze flicked over the half-empty corral. “Guess you have this chore under control.”

  She nodded.

  “Then I’ll take Mark and repair the northeast fence line. According to your list, there’s some wire down.”

  “You don’t have to take Mark. I’d rather he stay with me.”

  “Mom...” Mark whined.

  Uncertainty played across her face. It was clear she wanted to please her son. It was equally clear she didn’t want him out of her sight. Was she that protective?

  “If he gets in the way?”

  “I’ll bring him back.”

  Still uncertain, she nodded.

  The kid wanted to work. Donovan would see that he did just that. Once Mark was too tired to move, he wouldn’t be so eager to help.

  “We’ll take the truck, Mark. Let’s load up.”

  With a mile-wide grin, Mark scampered in that direction.

  ****

  With every step Mark took away from her, Phyl’s anxiety accelerated. Her gaze swept beyond the pair and over the ranch. It was quiet and peaceful. No strangers. No reason for the nagging fear she couldn’t dispel.

  Before they came here, Mark had been a city kid. He rode the bus to kindergarten. He rode his bike, played with the neighbor kids. He’d never seen a cow or horse except on TV and the movies. But he’d taken to ranch life. She gave him simple chores—feed the dogs, fill the water trough. Little things. His desire to help Donovan with bigger jobs could be disastrous.

  It frightened her.

  Everything about ranch life was new to Mark. If Donovan didn’t watch him closely, Mark could get hurt. Worse, he was out of her sight, away from her protection.

  He’d turned six on the road. In a few weeks it would be time to think of school. Her blood ran cold. She wouldn’t be able to protect him if they were apart.

  She watched the farm truck until it disappeared.

  Mark was in heaven. She was in hell.

  A few hours later, she swatted the rump of the last calf as it ran out of the chute, then she headed toward the barn. Though she’d checked the newborn calf earlier, she wanted to make sure mama and baby were adjusting well before letting them out.

  Every day, she was more and more comfortable on the ranch. Mark had made it clear from their first day that he liked it here. His immediate attachment to Donovan, however, worried her.

  The only ma
le figure in his life had been a dad neither of them could count on. Mark wanted a dad. That need had kept Victor in their life longer than was wise. When Nellie and the rest of the family praised Donovan, Mark soaked it up. Now it was evident her son looked up to the kind rancher who didn’t seem to mind a kid full of questions underfoot.

  That would be a good thing if they stayed. Mark needed a male figure in his life. Not so good if they had to leave. She wouldn’t have him hurt.

  Right now it was imperative they have the safety the ranch provided. It wouldn’t do for the authorities to look at them too closely.

  There were times when she worried that Dugan, being the county sheriff, would come across something that would make him suspicious. But it wasn’t likely. She was using her maiden name, and though the electronic age kept the authorities on the alert with the touch of a button, California was a long way from the Texas Hill Country.

  Three hours later, she heard the truck rattle its return.

  Heart in her throat, she went to greet Donovan Callahan and her son.

  ****

  Donovan watched her stride out of the barn, her steps long and hurried, her face unsmiling. The sudden clench in his lower body surprised him.

  Mark bounded from the truck. “Donovan says I helped real good. That if I wanted to, I could be a real rancher like him.”

  Donovan chuckled to himself. That wasn’t exactly what transpired. But he supposed from a six-year-old perspective, it’s what went down.

  “That’s good,” Phyl said, giving Mark a quick hug. “Now, go wash up for lunch.”

  Mark didn’t have to be told twice. He was off and running.

  “Did my best to wear him down,” Donovan said tiredly. “Looks as if I didn’t make it.”

  “It usually turns out the opposite. Was he too much trouble?”

  “No more than you’d expect.” Actually, he’d enjoyed the kid, but had to admit he could use a break.

  They walked into the barn. “You let them out?”

  It was understood she’d know what he meant.

  “They were ready.”

  “Good.” Donovan felt like the hired hand. Phyl had the ranch running smoothly. He wasn’t needed. Sure, another willing hand was always useful. But Phyl was in control. If he chose, he could pack up and leave any time.