by Angel Smits
Emily thought for a minute then realized it didn’t matter. “I haven’t done anything wrong, but—”
“But someone could misunderstand.”
“Yeah.”
The silence returned and neither of them tried to break it. She might not have done anything wrong, technically, but she knew that she’d lost her objectivity a long time ago. Emily didn’t know what she would do, but she knew what she should do.
Someone else needed to handle this case from here. She was okay with that, except the only two options—her boss Warren and the other magistrates—were swamped. They couldn’t pay attention or... She stopped herself. Or give the special treatment she was thinking about giving. She stared out the window the rest of the trip.
Once they reached the ranch house and settled Tyler, Emily grabbed her things and headed to the door.
“Where are you going?” Wyatt’s arm slid around her waist and pulled her close.
“Home.” She leaned into his embrace. She had things to resolve in her mind, and she couldn’t do that with him around. She let herself linger a minute longer than she should, relishing the feel of him.
“I do have to go to work tomorrow,” she reminded him.
“Play hooky.” He nuzzled her neck, sending wishful desires all the way down her spine.
Oh, how she ached to give in.
Determinedly, Emily stepped back and hastily moved to the door before she buckled under her heart’s pressure. “Really, I have to go.” She hustled out into the predawn, hoping that distance and time would clear her thoughts and make it easier to live with what she’d done.
* * *
THE BUILDING WAS quiet. Of course, few people came to the courthouse at 4:30 a.m. Emily let herself into her office, flipping light switches as she went. No matter how many times she told herself she was independent, she hated being alone, especially in the middle of the night.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have piles of work to do. The stacks of court files still teetered on the conference table. She walked past them and sat down at her desk. She booted up her computer. And while it hummed and blinked, setting up all its paraphernalia, she put her purse away and hung up her jacket.
Her desk phone blinked. Not really a surprise. There were always messages on her phone from caseworkers, attorneys, coworkers. Usually, Dianne sorted through them.
But Dianne wasn’t in yet, and glancing at her desk calendar, Emily grimaced. She wouldn’t be in later, either—Dianne was off today. So Emily killed time sorting the calls, stalling.
The decision she’d made was right. She just didn’t know how Warren would react. Heck, she wasn’t sure how Wyatt would react. She hadn’t told him what she was doing. What if...? She tried to swallow her insecurity and stood to pace, hoping to cut the nervous energy threatening to engulf her.
Determined to get this done, she forced herself to sit down. The computer screen glowed at her, and she opened her email and pulled up the senior magistrate’s email address. The words were difficult at first, but as her fingers moved over the keys, they flowed.
She recused herself.
She admitted to her inability to remain impartial. She didn’t need to fill in all the blanks, but she did have to explain.
The bailiff’s presence in the E.R. had made her realize the risks she’d taken. The mistakes she’d made. The line she’d crossed.
She hesitated only an instant before she hit the send button. The little hourglass on the screen made her hold her breath. And then it was gone. Now it was a whole new ballgame...if there was anything at all.
What if Wyatt didn’t feel the same way about her as she did him? What if... She turned to look out the window, trying to break her mind from the path it had gotten stuck on.
The sun was just coming up. A few golden-red rays slipped in through the windowpanes, caressing the edges of her desk. Emily sat there for a long time. Out at the ranch, the hands would be getting the horses ready for their day out in the pastures. Chet had told her they planned to round up the last of the new calves for branding this week. It would be long hours of hard painful work for everyone.
She pictured Wyatt on Prism’s back. He’d be there at his men’s sides, in the thick of everything he loved—the animals, his ranch. He’d even talked about letting Tyler go along for a bit. She’d wanted to argue, to say he was too young, but she knew she was being ridiculous. He was probably going to grow up on a ranch. He needed to know what went on. She wondered if he’d grow up to follow in Wyatt’s footsteps and take over the ranch or if his parents would come back and everything would change.
She might never know.
Pain cut through her. She’d done the right thing. Half a second passed before she grabbed her purse and coat and headed to the door, slamming it behind her. The office would be closed today.
One mental health day coming up.
Emily went home and slept. Vague images of her parents, of Wyatt and the courtroom still floated disjointedly in her mind when she awoke late in the morning.
Her gaze fell on the dresser where she’d put the box from the trailer. She lay there for several long minutes staring at it. What was she going to do with it? It might turn into a disaster, but she had to take the chance and ask Mom.
She’d focus on that instead of the turmoil with Wyatt.
Mornings were busy at Sunset Haven, getting the residents up and about, plus the whole breakfast rush. Afternoons weren’t as crazy.
It was, however, a tougher time for her mother, but Emily walked through the front doors, anyway.
Staff greeted Emily as she walked to her mother’s room. She peeked in and saw her mom lying on the bed. Her eyes were open, but she was definitely someplace else. “Mom?”
“Oh, hello.” Helen didn’t sit up or even move.
“Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
Emily was having second thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Helen’s voice was monotone and she didn’t meet Emily’s gaze.
At a loss, Emily pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. She gave her mom time to adjust to her being there, gave herself time to figure out how to begin.
Emily figured starting with the picture of the kiss, rather than the coins, was the safest thing and so she slowly pulled it out. “I brought you something.”
Helen looked at her, surprising Emily with the dullness in her eyes. “What is it?”
“This.” She extended the old picture.
“Oh, my.” Helen sighed, pushed herself up on an elbow and stared at the photo. “He’s so handsome.” She ran her finger softly over the picture. “John,” she whispered.
Emily’s throat tightened. She was glad she’d brought the picture.
“Do you remember that?”
“Of course I do,” Helen snapped angrily. “I’d never forget something that important.” She stared at it for a long time. “That’s the day I got pregnant with my daughter.”
Helen turned the picture over and read the date printed on the back aloud.
Emily did a double take, and a little quick math. “Wait, you were pregnant when you got married?”
“Don’t tell my father. He’ll kill me.” Helen looked up, panicked.
“I won’t tell,” Emily reassured her, doing as the staff had trained her, following her mother’s thought journey instead of redirecting her. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Helen looked relieved.
Emily let her enjoy the picture for a while. “I have something else,” she said softly.
“Oh? What?” Her mom sounded so excited, Emily hated to disappoint her and almost didn’t pull out the bag. Firming her resolve, she reached into her purse.
Helen gasped as soon as she saw the blue velvet. She just stared at it.
“He stole them,” Helen whispered.
Confused, Emily thought of Drew. Had he lied when he said he hadn’t taken them? “Who stole them?”
“My husband.” Helen didn’t give a name, but Emily assumed she was talking about Earl.
“Who’d he steal them from?”
Helen fidgeted with the bedspread. “His boss.”
Earl had had dozens of bosses. “Who?”
“One of the guys who put stuff on his truck.” The picking increased and Emily stopped questioning.
Helen stared at the coins before quickly plucking one from Emily’s hand and stuffing it into her pocket.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“What I always do. Take it to the pawn shop.”
“What?”
“Put the others back. He can’t see them.” Helen stood and started frantically looking around the room. “Hurry. He’s never gone long. It’s all I have to take care of Emily.”
“I can’t.”
“Then give them to me.” Helen snatched the bag and the remaining coins. She glared at Emily, shaking a finger in her face. “And don’t you dare tell my Emily, you hear?”
Emily’s heart sank. Mom didn’t even recognize her. She blinked back the tears. “I won’t.”
“She can’t ever know about this. It would be too hard on her.”
“Why?”
“You silly girl.” Helen frowned. “She’d know what I did. She’d be heartbroken.” Helen took the coin from her pocket and struggled to put all three back in the bag. “She’d have starved to death rather than give up that horse. It’s all we have.”
Emily fought the urge to shoot to her feet.
“What happened to the horse?” Emily’s voice shook as she almost said Sugar’s name.
“That idiot tried to sell him.” Helen’s eyes grew blank and Emily knew she was back in time.
She let her go there, though she wasn’t sure if her mother was going to say anything more. “After that awful night, everyone thought the horse died.” Helen shook her head. “Sugar came back the next morning while Emily was at school,” Helen whispered.
Emily gasped and fought to catch her breath.
“I called John’s friend,” Helen continued as Emily tried to figure out which one it could be.
“Without the money from selling Sugar, we’d have never survived.” Helen spoke softly. She picked up the picture from the bedspread again. “I put that money with the coins I’d hidden from Earl.”
Then pieces started to fall into place. Her mother had never worked and yet, after Earl left, they’d managed to squeak by. There hadn’t been much money, but there’d been just enough.
Helen had taken the coins, letting Drew take the blame. She’d sold Sugar and let Emily think he’d died.
Emily knew desperate people did desperate things, but this was too painful.
She left Helen with the picture and the bag of coins. She didn’t ever want to see the damned things again.
Fifteen years. Sugar had been five years old. Where had he gone? What had happened to him? Her mind raced with questions, questions to distract her from the one emotion she was trying to avoid—betrayal.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WYATT’S CELL PHONE rang just as he reached the farthest corner of the south pasture. After Dancer’s injuries, he’d had his crew closely watch the fence line between here and Haymaker’s place. It was Wyatt’s turn to ride this afternoon.
He could’ve pulled rank and made one of the men do it. But after a hectic week, everyone was exhausted, so Wyatt let them get some rest. Except now he had too much time alone, too much time to think.
Emily wasn’t answering his calls. When she’d left abruptly the other night, something was on her mind, but he’d been too tired and focused on Tyler to ask. He hoped the tinny ring that echoed across the pasture was her, yet the number on the screen said otherwise. He considered not answering but too many people, personal and business, used this number.
“Hello?”
“Wyatt Hawkins?” A man’s voice, deep and solemn came through the airwaves.
“Yeah?”
“This is Major Dixon.” The man paused. “I’m your brother’s commanding officer.”
Wyatt froze. Prism sensed the change and froze, too.
“DJ?” Of course, DJ. “I—” Wyatt didn’t even want to hear what came next. “Is he...” Wyatt whispered a curse.
“Your brother’s been injured. Apparently, changes to his next of kin notification didn’t make it in before he headed overseas. I apologize for the delay in contacting you.”
Distorted relief forced the air from Wyatt’s lungs. DJ was alive. “How bad?” Some injuries weren’t much better than the alternative.
“He sustained broken bones and some severe burns.” There was another long pause, and Wyatt heard papers shuffling in the background.
“What...happened?” Wyatt asked, even though he knew the drill. He’d never get that answer. Special forces didn’t do things that anyone could ever really know about. DJ had warned him, but Wyatt had only half believed him, thinking this day would never come.
“Mission went bad. I can’t release the details, but there was an explosion. He was on guard duty when the device went off. Two other good men died.” The commander’s voice cracked. “Captain Hawkins is the only survivor.”
“Is he coming home?”
“He’s at Landstuhl in Germany right now.” The commander spoke again. “They’ve kept him in a drug-induced coma for a few days, but as soon as he’s stable, we’ll be transferring him to San Antonio. I know that’s near you. I’ll be in touch about the details as they’re made.”
“Th-thank you for calling.” Wyatt’s throat threatened to close. “Major Dixon? Is he going to make it?”
The major’s silence was loaded with unspoken warnings. “The bones are healing nicely, but burns are trickier. We’re hopeful.”
After a few more pleasantries the call ended. All Wyatt heard was the wind whispering through the prairie grasses. And his own heart’s pounding. Hard. Fast. Painful.
When DJ had been home after Mom was diagnosed, they’d talked about this. DJ had asked Wyatt to be his next of kin contact. Mom was too sick, and DJ hadn’t wanted her to be the first one to hear bad news if something happened. DJ’d wanted Wyatt to be the strong one, the one who took care of everyone else, just like always.
Tears burned Wyatt’s eyes. He jumped off Prism’s back, needing to move and escape the pain. Unfortunately, the pain followed him.
He stared at the phone, wanting to hurl the damned thing clear across the plains. But responsibility weighed on him. He needed to call the others and relay what little he knew. His fingers hovered over the keypad. He just stared. And then he watched as his fingers moved, not even certain of what they were doing.
The phone rang. And rang. Before Emily’s voice mail picked up, he ended the call.
No, she had enough to deal with. This was his job.
Swinging back up into the saddle, Wyatt kicked Prism into a run. He let the wind tear through the horse’s mane and dry the damp on his cheeks. By the time he reached the house, the tears were gone and he’d left all his pain out in that pasture.
Wyatt didn’t have time to feel. He had work to do.
* * *
EMILY FIGURED WARREN Litchfield had been head of the Civil Court Division since the invention of dirt. He was a staple in the county. Everyone knew him and most people respected him. Right now, as Emily sat in his office, staring at the empty chair across his desk, she wished she was anywhere else.
“Your email made me curious
.” Warren walked into the room, an open file in his hand, the glasses he always wore perched on the end of his nose. As he sat down, the look he gave her over those glasses reminded her of Dianne. Not reassuring her at all.
“I assumed that’s why you summoned me here.”
A single eyebrow lifted. “What’s the situation with this family? In a nutshell.”
Warren always wanted things in a nutshell so he could beat it to death with a hammer and dig around in it for a while. “Boy’s mother abandoned him and the uncle has provisional custody.”
“Provisional? Interesting decision.”
“It was the boy’s request. He believes one, or both, of his parents are coming back.”
“And what do you think?”
It wasn’t unusual to discuss cases like this with Warren or the other magistrates. She was just wondering how it connected to her email. “I think at some point, the dad will. He’s deployed overseas. He’s a marine. The mother, I’m not so sure about. For what it’s worth, the father doesn’t even know he has a child.”
Warren gave her that look again.
“Never dull, is it?” he asked, referring to their job. “So who is it you know that makes you think you should disqualify yourself?”
Emily paused to take a breath as images of Wyatt filled her mind and threatened to steal her concentration. “The uncle.” She went on to explain, “The caseworker for this one is out on maternity leave and after the Dean case, I couldn’t let it go unmonitored.” A smidgen of relief swept through her as Warren nodded. “I took on the caseworker role. I’ve gotten to know him, and the boy, quite well.”
Warren leaned back in his chair, the old leather squealing in protest until he stilled. “You do realize part of the reason we have caseworkers is to preserve our impartiality? They get to have opinions.”
“I do.”
“The Dean case was rough.” Warren sat staring at her for a long time. “And I understand your reasoning.” Another long, uncomfortable pause as he looked at the file. Her chest tightened—it was Tyler’s case file. “Did this relationship with the uncle in any way interfere with your decision here?”
