A Family for Tyler

by Angel Smits

  The yearning was painful now, throbbing in her chest. What would it have been like to be part of a real family?

  Her dad had died under the hooves of a horse while trying to make their dreams come true. A wild stallion they’d wanted to breed with McPherson’s stock over in Harrisburg. All her mother’s dreams, and Emily’s future, had died in that barn with her father that day.

  Suddenly, she wanted—needed—to get out of here. She opened the front door and stopped. A light rain was beginning to fall. Just like back then. The memories she’d been outrunning swept full force into her mind.

  She was back to that night all over again. The rain had come down in a torrent, splattering against the thin windowpanes and turning the semblance of a yard into a huge mud hole. The lights of Earl’s truck created twin beams of gold that swept the side of the trailer. He slammed on the brakes, barely missing the front of the house. An old horse trailer was hitched to the back bumper.

  He shoved the driver’s door open, slipping on the clay mud and cursing loud enough to be heard above the storm. He didn’t head to the house, but instead to the small shelter several yards away. Sugar stood under the enclosure, trying to avoid the drips of rain falling through the holes in the roof.

  Emily stood at her bedroom window, watching. “No!” Without thinking, she ran through the house and out the door. The metal door on the side of the trailer made a wicked whacking sound.

  She ran through the mud. “Earl!” she screamed. By the time she reached the barn, Earl had the halter on Sugar and was trying to pull the reluctant horse out of the stall.

  “Get your ass back in that house, girl,” he yelled.

  “No.”

  She thought he might come after her, but he never had before. Sugar shuffled around in the small space, whinnying loudly over the roar of the storm. His confusion shone in his wide eyes. “Let Sugar go.”

  “I said get,” Earl yelled. “He’s not yours anymore. I sold him.”

  “He’s mine. You can’t do that.”

  “I already did.” He yanked on the halter and Sugar reared back, his hooves pawing the air. He thumped back to the ground just inches from Earl. Anger flared in Earl’s eyes as the reins slipped from his fingers. “I’ll show you.”

  Earl reached for the nearest thing to him, a pitchfork that Emily had used earlier to clean the stall. Sugar’s scream of pain broke through the night, echoing forever in Emily’s brain.

  “No!” Emily ran toward Sugar, but not before another scream finished breaking her heart. Risking everything and knowing she’d regret it later, she slapped Sugar’s flank and gave the command to run.

  The horse bolted through the yard, nearly trampling Emily in his haste to get away. Thunder roared across the sky, drowning out the sound of Sugar’s hoofbeats as he ran into the storm.

  A flash of lightning lit up the fields and Emily saw the horse racing toward the horizon, his white coat stained with streaks of night-blackened blood. She’d never see her beloved Sugar again. She hurt all over, inside and out, but it was worth it. At least out in the hills, on his own, he’d have a fighting chance.

  “You little brat.” Earl grabbed her hard, his big hand fisting in the neck of her shirt, making it impossible to breathe. The cloying scent of his whiskey-soaked breath made her gag. She struggled, but she was only a kid, just fifteen. He was well over six feet tall and a good two hundred plus pounds. For the first time, she thought he would hit her.

  “Earl. No. Stop.” Her mother’s voice came out of the fog that had filled her brain.

  “What the hell are you going to do about it, woman?”

  At last, his grip loosened and Emily could breathe. She fell to her knees, struggling to pull air into her lungs. Her throat hurt from the pressure of her shirt collar. She couldn’t stop coughing long enough to catch her breath.

  “Please, Earl. Don’t hurt her.”

  “Do you know how much money she just cost us? Making me damage the horse that way? That damned horse is more trouble than it’s worth.”

  That wouldn’t be a problem any longer, Emily thought, though she couldn’t yet speak.

  “It’s not her fault, nor the horse’s,” Mom tried to explain.

  “Then whose is it?” He stalked toward Mom. “Must be yours.”

  The crack of his fist against her mother’s cheek was loud, and Emily screamed as her mother fell. Earl had never hit Helen in front of Emily before. He’d pushed her, like the time she’d hurt her arm on the oven door, or waited until later when Emily could only hear, not see. Something had changed. Emily searched her mind for something she had done that would have caused all this....

  Mom didn’t move.

  “That’ll teach you both,” Earl growled as he stalked to the truck. Emily heard the door slam, and the rev of the engine as he backed out of the drive.

  He left. Thank God he left, she thought, and then she panicked. Mom wasn’t moving. Her eyes were closed, and her skin was as white as the lightning that split the sky.

  “Mom?” Emily crawled across the rough mud. “Mom?” She heard her mother breathing and relaxed a little. Still, she didn’t move. Emily had to get help.

  Emily stood, stumbling and nearly falling over the pitchfork. She looked down at it and realized it was blurry. She wiped the tears from her eyes and struggled through the muddy yard to the trailer. She dialed 9-1-1 and soon the blue-and-red strobe lights broke through the storm.

  Mom’s going to be okay, she kept repeating to herself as the paramedics checked her out and helped Helen wake up. Even as they loaded Mom into the ambulance, those words kept echoing in Emily’s head. The police officer who put her in his car said very little that interrupted the words.

  Mom had brought Emily home a few weeks later, after struggling with social services to get her back from the foster home where she’d been living.

  But Emily didn’t want to go back to the trailer. She’d liked the Wilkerson family. They were good to her. The house was cozy and they’d actually sat down to dinner at the table every night, together. And the TV wasn’t even on. The other girls who lived there were nice, too, and everyone was quiet. No one yelled.

  And while she’d missed Mom, Emily missed Sugar more. After Mom stopped the car, Emily quickly looked over at the meager stable before tearing her gaze away.

  Life and Mom were never the same after that. Thankfully, Earl never came back. But he didn’t send a single dime of money, either. They survived on welfare checks, food stamps and the few vegetables Mom grew in the garden. By the time Emily was sixteen, she was working full-time at the Dairy Barn and going to school. She had straight As and a burning desire to get even.

  Too bad Earl was already dead by that time. His own stupid drunk driving had gotten to him before Emily could get him through the legal system. She’d have enjoyed putting his backside behind bars. Now he was lying on one side of the cemetery next to an eternally empty plot. Helen Walker was getting a fresh new plot clear across the green pasture. On the side with the pretty trees, and no assholes to torment her for eternity. A place near Dad.

  Grabbing the box and the pile of clothes, Emily headed to her car. She popped the trunk and settled everything inside before slamming it shut.

  She had a long drive back into town. When she reached the gate at the main road, she stopped and looked left, then right. She didn’t bother to glance back in the rearview mirror.

  There was nothing else she wanted there.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TOSSING AND TURNING most of the past two nights had left Wyatt in a foul mood. He’d considered the idea of a cold shower twice, but with the bathroom right next to Tyler’s room, he’d refrained. It was bad enough trying to explain to a kid who’d grown up in the city what a “stud” meant in regards to horses. Explaining a cold shower was not even on the list.<
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  By noon, Wyatt was exhausted. He’d had way too much coffee and his stomach made sure he knew that. He stood at Dancer’s stall, beside Chet. Neither of them spoke as the horse moved around, apparently feeling much better already.

  “You look like hell, boss,” Chet said, breaking the silence.

  “Why, thank you,” Wyatt snarled. “You’re lookin’ particularly lovely yourself today.”

  Chet threw his head back and laughed. “Now I know why I like working here so much.” Dancer came over to them and Chet rubbed the horse’s broad nose. “Hey, boy. You come to see what’s eatin’ the boss, too?”

  “Nothing’s eatin’ me,” Wyatt denied, though the image and lingering feel of Emily in his arms flashed bright and clear in his mind. Yeah, nothing.

  “Man, you can’t lie worth a damn.” Chet chuckled again without even pausing in his gentle rub of the horse’s ears.

  Wyatt half expected the horse to roll over and start purring. “What do I have to lie about?”

  “You think every man in that room the other night didn’t feel the tension between you and that judge? Hell, Yolanda didn’t even have to fire up the stove.” He shook his head in amusement. “She sure has her opinions about you two.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She’s already planning what to make for a wedding feast.”

  Wyatt cursed, and even Dancer gave him a wide-eyed, surprised stare.

  “It’s not like that.” Yet Wyatt didn’t know what it was like. Nothing he’d ever experienced before.

  “She know that?”

  “Yeah.” That she did. She’d been the one who couldn’t get away fast enough that night. The one who’d told him to pretend it never happened. He should be relieved. So why was he wrestling with disappointment?

  “Why don’t you get the hell out of here?” Chet turned away from the horse, who nickered in protest.

  “What?”

  “Take some time off. There’s nothing me and the boys can’t handle this afternoon. You’ve been running hell-bent for leather ever since the boy arrived. When was the last time you did anything besides work?”

  The idea held way too much appeal. Wyatt glanced at his watch. Tyler would be home soon. He remembered times like this when he and DJ had been kids. They’d take their poles and go fishing. He glanced around the big barn. “Fishing poles still where we left them?”

  “Yep.”

  “Tell Yolanda not to plan on Tyler and me for dinner. I’ll take us some sandwiches.” Anticipation brought a smile to his lips. Dancer tossed his head and whinnied. “You agree, too, huh?” He gave the horse a nice rub between the ears and headed toward the shed.

  * * *

  WYATT DUMPED THE bag of ice into the cooler, the clatter loud. He grabbed the six-pack of soda and a couple beers and shoved them into the mound of frozen water. Yeah, it was going to be a good afternoon. There was just enough room left to ice down the lunches he’d made for them.

  Tyler was upstairs, changing out of his school clothes. Wyatt had told him that he couldn’t wear his good clothes to the pond. He needed his rattiest, dirtiest jeans. That should keep him busy long enough for Wyatt to get things packed up.

  No boy, city or not, should grow up without learning how to fish properly. The fact that Tyler was DJ’s son made it even more imperative that Wyatt teach him. DJ had always said it was a great way to waste a Friday afternoon.

  “I’m ready.” Tyler bounded down the steps and ran to the passenger door. Wyatt peered around the truck. Yep, he’d found a very disreputable pair of jeans. Wyatt chuckled. And he wore a T-shirt with a huge fish emblazoned across the front. Where had he gotten that?

  Wyatt slid the cooler into the truck bed, right beside the poles and tackle box. Two of the poles were Wyatt’s and the small one had been DJ’s when he was a kid. He didn’t think DJ would mind Tyler using it. Wyatt had filled the time until Tyler got home from school cleaning it and getting the pole back in shape. Still, it looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. If it didn’t work, he had the backup.

  He tried to recall the last time he and DJ had gone fishing. He couldn’t remember. A couple years, at least. Too long. He shut his thoughts down and slammed the tailgate into place.

  “All right, buddy, let’s get going.” He ambled over to the driver’s door. The handle was hot against his palm, and just as he yanked the door open, a tail of dirt rose up on the road. Wyatt cursed, wondering if he could get in the truck and gun the engine fast enough to outrun whoever was headed this way.

  It was a wayward thought and instead of racing away, he sighed and waited. Whatever it was would probably involve him, anyway.

  “Who’s that?” Tyler asked, leaning out the driver’s window and looking over Wyatt’s shoulder.

  “Don’t know. Guess we’ll wait and see.”

  “Do we have to?” Tyler was fast stealing Wyatt’s heart. He forced himself to think like an adult.

  “Yes, we do. This shouldn’t take long.”

  Wyatt regretted those words as soon as they came out of his mouth. When Emily’s rental car turned into the yard, he groaned, part of him dreading what lay ahead. The other part he completely ignored.

  “Uh-oh. She’s back.” Tyler slipped back into the cab.

  “Now, don’t you abandon me.” Wyatt tried to lighten the mood. “Let’s say hello and be nice. Then maybe she’ll go away soon.”

  “Okay.” Wyatt could tell Tyler’s heart wasn’t in it. Still, Tyler dutifully stayed put.

  Emily pulled her car to a halt a few feet away. She climbed out, her pretty high heels and skirt totally out of place. She forced a smile, he could tell, as she struggled across the rough dirt drive. He expected her to twist an ankle, but he knew better than to offer help. So he leaned back on the cab door, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

  “Hello, Wyatt, Tyler.” She walked toward them. “Are you getting ready to leave?”

  “Yeah,” Tyler piped up. “We’re going fishin’.”

  “Oh.” She looked at Wyatt, tilting her head sideways like she always did when she didn’t quite understand something.

  “Uncle Wyatt says no cowboy worth his salt grows up without learnin’ fishin’,” Tyler explained.

  Wyatt didn’t say a word. He just waited. The silence grew too heavy. He couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is there a reason you came out here today?”

  “Actually, I was just...” She looked over at him then and he saw her swallow hard. “I um—”

  “Just in the neighborhood? Checking on us again, Judge?” He failed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He knew it would get a reaction from her, and it did. He almost laughed at the way her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. He recognized that look from his sisters. She wanted to hit him. She held back, however. He was impressed.

  “Of course not.” Emily lifted her chin defiantly. “I needed more information, and this is the last day this week my schedule is open.”

  “Uh-huh.” He almost believed her.

  “Uncle Wyatt?” Tyler interrupted the glares.

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “Do judges need to learn to fish?”

  “What?” Wyatt looked back at his nephew, who was again leaning out the driver’s window. The little rat.

  “You should come with us, Ms. Ivers.” Tyler looked back and forth between the two adults, not looking nearly as innocent as an eight-year-old should.

  “Oh, I couldn’t.”

  “Well, then, we’ll be off.” Wyatt pulled open the cab door and tried to guide Tyler back across the seat.

  “But—”

  Wyatt turned around slowly and peered back at Emily. His heart thumped. She was actually considering it.

  “’Cept you can’t wear your good clothes. Uncle
Wyatt said so,” Tyler volunteered.

  Was that disappointment he saw flash in her eyes? “I don’t have anything else with me. I do have a pair of tennis shoes in the trunk.” She looked down at herself and frowned. Wyatt’s eyes followed hers.

  The image of her in nothing but cute little running shoes down by the lake nearly gave him a heart attack. He should have his head examined.

  “I’m pretty sure there’s some of your dad’s old clothes up in your closet. They’d probably fit Ms. Ivers,” he told Tyler. DJ had been a scrawny kid until he’d joined the marines.

  “Cool! Come on, Ms. Ivers.” Tyler, with a kid’s enthusiasm and no clue about the tension between adults, jumped down, grabbed Emily’s hand and started toward the house. She had no choice but to follow or get dragged.

  “Uh...I guess I’m going.” She shrugged, but didn’t argue.

  The woman who came out of the house a few moments later stole what was left of Wyatt’s breath. The worn jeans were cut for a boy, but her girl curves filled them out way too well. The navy T-shirt she wore was knotted at her hip, most likely to keep it from hanging clear to her knees. Her dark hair hung loose, whispering against the dark clothing. Wyatt rubbed his hands down the sides of his jeans, trying to get rid of the itch to touch every inch of her.

  “Let’s go!” Tyler leaped off the steps and was up on the running boards, pulling open the passenger door of the truck before Wyatt could blink. Emily followed more slowly.

  That gave Wyatt time to get around the truck and boost the boy in. “Sit in the middle,” he instructed. It was probably totally illegal, or at least immoral, to use a kid as a shield, but in this case, it was all Wyatt had. If she sat next to him on that wide bench seat, they might not make it off the property.

  * * *

  HICKSON’S POND WAS a whole lot more than a pond. Climbing out of the truck, Emily could barely see the opposite shore. She knew from growing up around here that it had been much smaller back in the day.

  “Wow!” Tyler’s eyes were wide as he jumped down behind her. “It’s huge.”

  Wyatt laughed as he reached into the truck bed to retrieve their gear. “Here, buddy. Take this.” He handed Tyler a blanket and a small lawn chair. He met Emily’s gaze. “You want the poles or the cooler?”