Between the Reins (Gold Valley Romance Book 4)

by Liz Isaacson

  “Oh, it’s me too.” She tucked her hands in her pockets and stayed where she was. “So a curfew sounds great. And I can drive myself back and forth so you don’t have to drive me home. I guess I usually do. Yesterday was just…different.”

  He nodded and turned back to the kitchen to gather his thermos, his lunch, and his wallet. Yesterday had been different, and not just because he’d gone too far with the kissing. “I’ll get Marie from school today,” he said. “I already sent her a text about it, so would you make sure she looks at her phone before school?”

  “Yeah, of course. Why are you getting her?”

  “I want to talk to her about us.” He shoved his wallet in his back pocket and his phone in his front one. “You can come over after dance if you want.”

  “Maybe,” she said, a new awkwardness between them that Owen wanted to erase if only he knew how.

  He dipped his hat in her direction. “See you later then.” He moved into the living room, right into her personal space. “I sure like you, Natalie.” He brushed his lips across hers for barely a moment and headed out the front door before she could say anything in return.

  “Toby, that saddle is backward.” Owen tamped down his rising frustration. Today marked the fifth week for this group of boys, and every one of them should know how to saddle a horse properly by now.

  “Which one?” The tall, gangly boy glanced around like it was his first day at Silver Creek.

  “The one on Bluebell. Hurry up and fix it. The girls will be here any minute.” He turned to the other boys, who’d all finished their tasks correctly. “Davy, you and Kelton go get the guitar out of my truck. It’s unlocked. Vinchenzo and Griff, will you go get us all some water?” The two boys nodded. “Kyle, you stay with me and Toby. All right, boys?”

  “All right, Mister Carr,” they said, and some of the tension that had been riding in his muscles since the previous night bled away. He watched Davy and Kelton start toward the end of the barn and disappear around it, where the parking lot was. The two hadn’t gotten along when they’d first arrived, so Owen had paired them up and told them to figure things out.

  “How’s this, Mister Carr?” Toby panted as he jogged over. “Better?”

  Owen pretended to inspect the saddle, even going so far as to pull on the straps to test the tightness. “You got it, Toby.” He flashed him a quick smile. “Now come on, boys. I’m tired today, and we’re gonna go sit down and have us a sing-in.”

  “A sing-in?” Kyle, the biggest boy in this batch, scoffed. “I don’t sing, Owen.”

  “Well I do, and you can just listen.”

  He spotted the two boys he’d sent for water lugging it out of the cabin where he used to live. “Right there, boys,” he called. “Just leave it on the porch.”

  Kelton came around the end of the barn, alone and in a dead sprint. “Owen!” He waved his arms, skidded to a stop, and pointed back the way he’d come. “Davy took your guitar and ran off!”

  Owen reached for the radio on his belt at the same time he started running toward Kelton. “Which way did he go?” he called.

  “North. He went north!”

  Owen pressed the radio button at the same time he barked at the boys to gather on the porch of the cabin and stay put. “This is Owen Carr, at-risk counselor for unit thirteen. I have a runner,” he said into the radio as he gained the corner of the barn. “David Thomas Yeates. I sent him with another boy to collect my guitar from my truck in the southwest parking lot. I was just informed that the boy took my guitar and ran north. I am arriving in the parking lot now.”

  “David Yeates,” the secretary said over the radio. “Seventeen years old. Drug charges, and use of a weapon to injure or kill a small animal. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, stands at five-foot-nine-inches. Any known weapons?”

  “Just the guitar that I know of,” Owen said, scanning the area. He couldn’t see anything but cars. The road leading up the canyon to the cabin community ran along this side of the parking lot, and across that—to the north—the trees started.

  Thunder crashed overhead, and Owen called, “Davy, come on back now. It’s gonna rain and you’re gonna get real wet.”

  A quick movement in the trees across from him caught his eye. “He’s across the street,” Owen said quietly into the radio. “I repeat, he’s left the parking lot and the Silver Creek facility and entered the woods on the north side of Canyon Road.”

  People chattered on the radio about the authorities being notified and personnel being moved, and Doctor Richards came on. “Owen, do you think you can get him by yourself?”

  “Possibly.” Owen’s gut screamed at him to request backup. And he didn’t ignore his gut. “But send someone over to stay with my other boys, and I’d like a hand with Davy too.” He’d read the boy’s file, just like he always did. He’d been in lots of fights at school, mixed up in drugs and girls. It wasn’t until his mother had found the neighbor’s dead cat that she sought help and Davy had ended up at Silver Creek.

  “Davy,” Owen tried again. “I’m not upset with you.” His boots crunched on the gravel as he went up the bank to the road. “You don’t even have a jacket.” Work in the barn was often sweaty, even in the colder months. It hadn’t snowed yet, but Owen knew what a Montana rainstorm looked like, and the sky was about to open.

  Owen crossed the road and stood on the other side, scanning for movement as he searched his mind for what Davy had been wearing. Jeans and a brown sweatshirt. “Come on now, Davy. Tell me what’s goin’ on.” He’d turned down the radio, but heard that the police had just arrived. Behind him, he heard the unmistakable footsteps of another person. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder and saw Trenton. Owen motioned for him to go further down the road, and Trenton complied.

  “The police are here,” Owen called. “I bet they brought their dogs. I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

  Davy stepped out from behind a tree, Owen’s guitar held tightly in one hand. His expression stormed across the distance between them, and Owen stared right back. “I don’t like horses,” Davy yelled.

  Thirty yards separated them, and Owen didn’t take another step. “All right.”

  “And I don’t like Kelton.”

  “I’ll pair you up with someone else.”

  Davy looked at the guitar in his hand, and Owen’s heart squeezed. He’d recorded his album with that guitar, but a boy’s life was worth more than a musical instrument. He searched, prayed, for the right thing to say.

  “You want me to teach you how to play that thing?” he called into the wind.

  Davy lifted his eyes back to Owen’s. “Could you?”

  “Of course.” Owen went down the bank and crashed through the undergrowth. “You must not know who I am.” Owen wove through the trees, keeping Davy in sight until they stood only a few yards apart. He hadn’t planned on hiking that day, and his cowboy boots weren’t fit for tromping through the woods. “I’m your counselor.” Owen infused as much compassion into his voice as he could. “But I also recorded an album with that there guitar. The album went platinum, and one of my songs topped the country music charts.”

  Davy blinked at him and then the guitar, and back to him. “No way.”

  “Yes way. Down on Your Luck? Ever heard of it?” Owen chuckled, though he didn’t feel settled or happy. “Of course you haven’t. It was nine years ago. You’d have only been a little kid.”

  “I’ve always wanted to learn to play the guitar. My mom wouldn’t pay for lessons.”

  Owen stepped forward and extended his hand toward the boy. “Good thing you came to Silver Creek then. Guitar lessons here are free.” He silently thanked the Lord that the words were there. He hadn’t thought of them himself; wouldn’t have dreamed of offering to teach Davy how to play the guitar at all.

  Davy started to hold out the guitar for Owen to take, but he shook his head. “Davy, I don’t care about the guitar. I care about you.”

  The teenager’s chin shook, and Owen cros
sed the distance between them, taking the boy into his arms and holding him tight against his chest. “There you go.” Davy cried, and Owen’s guitar made a reverberating, discordant sound when it hit the ground.

  15

  “I can’t get Marie,” Owen said to Natalie an hour later. “Something happened with one of my boys. Can you get her? Tell her I really wanted to be there, and I’ll come get her at the studio as soon as I can?” He glanced over his shoulder to where Davy stood with Dr. Richards and two police officers.

  It wasn’t even lunch time yet. He probably could still get Marie, but Owen had a feeling his boys would need him. He felt stretched thin, even when Natalie said, “Of course, Owen. Is everything okay?”

  He exhaled. “Everything will be okay. I have to go.” He hung up and returned to Davy’s side. He listened while Dr. Richards told him he’d have to call his mother, and explained that there wasn’t anywhere to go after Silver Creek.

  “Besides jail,” an officer said. “I’m sure you don’t want to go there.”

  Davy shook his head, his cheeks still tear-stained.

  “Time to make different decisions then,” the officer said, and then turned to Dr. Richards. “I don’t think you need us for anything else.”

  Dr. Richards thanked them for coming so quickly, and they left. “Davy—” he began.

  “I want to keep him with me,” Owen interrupted. It was standard for the offending boy to be removed from the group, sometimes for several days. “I was just gonna sing with them until lunch. Maybe he can come over and meet with you after that.”

  Dr. Richards searched his face, and Owen silently pleaded with him to understand somehow. “Are you sure, Owen?”

  “Absolutely sure,” he said. “He’s a good kid. Just got…mixed up.”

  Davy lifted his chin off his chest and stared at Owen, the disbelief plain to see.

  “What about Kelton?”

  “Kelton said nothing happened. Davy didn’t touch him.”

  Dr. Richards sighed. “One o’clock, in my office. I want you, Kelton, and Davy to come together.”

  “Will do.” Owen saluted as the director walked off. “You owe me,” he whispered to Davy. “And I have to teach you how to play the guitar. I don’t see what I’m gettin’ out of any of this.” He gave the boy a smile, and Davy actually returned it.

  “I’m real sorry, Mister Carr.”

  “You will have to explain yourself,” he said. “But I bought you a couple of hours.” He swung back toward the barn. “Now, I left the other boys at my cabin. Let’s go make sure they haven’t ransacked the place.”

  Natalie exchanged a glance with one of Owen’s boys. Davy he’d called himself when he’d “accidentally” run into her as she’d arrived with Marie. The teenager had gone to great lengths to get in touch with her—something Owen had told her the boys couldn’t do when she’d asked—last week, and now he nodded toward the door.

  She glanced at Owen, who seemed fully engaged with Marie and Ole Red, and followed Davy outside. He stood on the porch of the cabin several yards past the barn, and Nat made her steps slow and casual so she could just be pretending to walk somewhere if someone asked.

  She knew Davy was the one who’d taken Owen’s guitar and fled three weeks ago. She knew Owen had been giving the teenager guitar lessons ever since. She knew, because he’d been coming home later every Tuesday and Thursday.

  “Davy,” she said as she approached. “What is going on?”

  “I just need your email address,” he said, pulling out a phone Natalie knew he wasn’t supposed to have. A benefit of her and Owen not kissing all the time—if there was one—was that he’d told her a lot about his job, his boys, the rules at Silver Creek.

  “What for?” She glanced at the phone. “And where did you get that? If Owen sees you with—”

  “Which is why you need to hurry.” He flashed her a look of irritation. “Look, Owen’s been teaching me how to play the guitar, right? Well, he’s been singing a lot lately, and he’s been teaching us one of his songs. I asked him if I could record it, and he sort of freaked out, but then Kyle said he could cut it and make it sound professional, and we all begged him, and he brought in the equipment. Computer, microphone, the whole works.” He glanced toward the barn.

  “And I talked to Doctor Richards, who said I could email you the file. But I don’t want Owen to know, and I just need your email address.”

  Still confused, but following along well enough, Natalie gave him her email address. His thumbs moved feverishly as she asked, “What do you expect me to do with it?”

  He tapped a final time and shoved the phone inside his coat. “I don’t know. I just thought you’d want to hear it.” He grinned at her as he moved down from the shadowy porch. “Owen says it’s about you.”

  Her phone chimed as Davy hurried back into the barn. Natalie sat down on the steps of the cabin where Owen said he usually sat with the boys while he played his guitar. Since they’d started dating, she hadn’t heard him play or sing once. But she’d seen the guitar at his house, sometimes in the kitchen, and sometimes the living room. He obviously picked it up from time to time.

  The email from Davy sat in her inbox, but she hesitated to open it. She’d brought Marie to Silver Creek early tonight, because she was headed to Wyoming. Julie was expecting her by noon tomorrow for Thanksgiving dinner, and if she could get out of the mountains and into Butte, her drive tomorrow would be much easier.

  Feeling brave and trying to act like it, she opened the email. No message. No subject. Just an mp4 file. She touched it and her phone started to download it. She stood suddenly, not wanting to hear Owen’s feelings for her portrayed in a song he’d only sung for six teenage boys. Not her. He hadn’t even mentioned that he was still composing music and lyrics, still singing the way he used to.

  Was he not satisfied with his life in Gold Valley? Did he want to return to Nashville and try for a career in country music again? The fact that she didn’t know—hadn’t even thought to ask him—grated against her nerves.

  She pushed the power button on her phone and it went dark. She needed to get on the road if she was going to get ahead of the storm. Owen and Marie were leaving for Idaho Falls the following morning, their drive three hours shorter than hers. And Owen didn’t worry about driving in a storm in his truck.

  Glancing at the barn, she decided she’d listen to the song in the car, a safe distance from Owen and after telling him goodbye for the weekend. He appeared in the barn doorway when she was about fifteen feet from it.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he said. “I thought you’d left without sayin’ goodbye.”

  She pushed a smile to her lips. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  He received her into his embrace and she pressed her face to his neck and got a noseful of cologne, and musk, and horse. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him.

  “Mm.” He kept his eyes closed after she broke their connection, a slow smile making him even more handsome. “That was nice. I think someone’s gonna miss me.” He chuckled and she smiled at him with all the emotion she could muster.

  “I think someone will,” she said. “I’ve never seen Ole Red all pouty like that.” She danced out of his arms at his protest and squealed when he grabbed her by the arm and twirled her back into his chest.

  His amusement faded as he gazed down at her. “I will miss you, Natalie.” He pressed his lips to hers again, the intensity in his kiss matching what she’d poured into hers a few moments ago.

  She stroked her fingers down the side of his face, over his beard, and along the back of his neck. “Owen, I think I might be in love with you.”

  His navy eyes sparked, but he didn’t open his mouth and repeat the sentiment back to her. Her heart flopped around in her chest like it was choking, gasping.

  “You let me know when you know for sure, all right sweetheart?”

  “How are you feeling about us?” she asked, something she’d never done in high school.
She’d let him kiss her, and hold her hand, and make her promises without knowing how he really felt. She’d told herself that his actions spoke louder than words, but once he’d finally told her he loved her, everything had changed.

  “I’m wild about you,” he whispered. “I feel great about us.”

  She pressed into him, leaning up on her tiptoes. “Can I tell my family that you’ll be joining me for Christmas? Are you feeling that great about us?”

  “I am, sweetheart.” He glanced over his shoulder and fell away from her. When she checked the doorway, she didn’t see anyone. “Has Marie said anything else to you?”

  He’d spoken to her a few weeks ago, a couple of days after the incident with Davy. She was eight, but she knew Natalie was always at Owen’s, holding her uncle’s hand, and that they were dating.

  Natalie hadn’t been present in the conversation, but Owen said he explained that dating was a way to get to know someone. Get to know someone well enough to know if you wanted to marry them. When Marie had asked him if he was going to marry Natalie, he’d said he didn’t know. He’d asked her if they should get married, and Marie had asked if she’d have to call Natalie mom.

  That, combined with his opinion that he’d pushed too far physically, and he’d backed off over the past few weeks. Sure, she still saw him most mornings and evenings. They still held hands, and ate dinner together, and cuddled on the couch. But there was far less kissing, and definitely nothing as passionate as that night she’d eaten dinner with his parents.

  “Nat?”

  She swung her attention back to him. “No, Marie hasn’t said anything else to me.”

  “Me either.” He exhaled. “I’ll talk to her on the way to Idaho Falls. Sort of see how she’s feeling.”

  Natalie nodded, but what she really wanted to know was how Owen was feeling. She didn’t think he’d use his niece as a reason why they couldn’t get married, but the wicked thought lingered in her mind as she walked back to her car alone.