by Kaki Warner
Timmy was the same as always, only bigger. A big, friendly teddy bear. He was no longer a harmless little kid, but a fully grown, very strong young man. Mama had told her that part of the reason for the Cardwells’ move to Plainview was to find a group home for Timmy, which sounded like a good idea. For Timmy and his parents.
Right on time, the three guys showed up. “Welcome,” Raney said, waving them inside. “The others are in the den.”
Alejandro looked like he’d had a rough night. Hicks looked the same, except for trading in the plaid for a white shirt with snap pockets and adding a slightly frayed string tie. Dalton wore a clean, but faded, light beige shirt and one of Alejandro’s bolo ties. She recognized the silver arrowhead tips and the garish four-inch-wide silver-and-turquoise sliding clasp. Another Christmas gift. He was partial to silver.
“I hope this is fancy enough,” he murmured to her as he stepped inside. “It’s as close as I have to a white shirt. I’ll get a proper one next time I go to town.” He looked down at the bolo tie. “And a better tie.”
“You don’t like that one?” Raney fought a smile as she walked with him to the den. “I was thinking to have Alejandro loan you his matching belt buckle, too.”
He started to say something, but was interrupted by Timmy shouting, “Dalton! You came back!”
Seeing his brother charging toward him across the crowded den seemed to fluster Dalton, but he recovered quickly, accepting Timmy’s boisterous bear hug with a tolerant smile. “Hey, buddy, what you been up to?”
As the other people in the room went back to chatting, Raney watched the brothers, impressed by Dalton’s patience and his obvious love for Timmy. There was an element of protectiveness there, too. She recognized it, had felt it directed at her earlier, when he’d asked why she needed a gun. Maybe because of his size and military training, Dalton felt he had to watch out for everybody. Or maybe it was that protective instinct that sent him into the army in the first place. A complicated guy, Dalton Cardwell. And not nearly the hard-ass she’d thought him to be.
Timmy pulled out of the hug with a hurt look. “Why did you leave, Dalton? You said you would work with me.”
“I know I did, buddy. I’m sorry. But I had to come here to work instead.”
“Here?” Timmy looked around the opulent room, his eyes round with wonder. “You work here?”
“In the barn out back. I’m training horses.”
“Horses.” Timmy’s face fell again. “Our horses went away. Dad says they won’t ever come back.”
Raney could see that Timmy was getting worked up, but his mother arrived in time to head him off. “Timmy, did you see the buffalo head mounted in the other room? Come, I’ll show you.”
“Yeah. Okay. Just the head? Where did the rest of it go?”
With an apologetic smile to Raney, Mrs. Cardwell led Timmy to Daddy’s office—the one room in the house Mama hadn’t redecorated at least twice.
Beside her, Dalton let out a deep breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “This might not be such a good idea.”
“Bringing Timmy? He’ll be fine.”
“He might break something.”
“It’s just stuff, Dalton. Around here, stuff is like Doritos. We always get more.”
As it happened, Timmy didn’t break anything. In her usual efficient way, Mama replaced his china plate and crystal goblet with a plastic Superman set she kept on hand for visiting ranch children.
His parents were relieved. Timmy was thrilled and mentioned several times—five or six, at least—that Superman was his favorite. Raney was filled with pride, and mentally added Hostess Extraordinaire to Mama’s list of remarkable traits.
This time, there was actual conversation as they ate. Mostly about weather, cattle prices, and how spring practice was going for the various college football teams, mostly Texas Tech. Hicks was even moved to nod once in answer to a direct question from Mr. Cardwell.
When the meal ended, since the day was mild and sunny, Mama sent an invitation to the workers’ quarters inviting everyone, especially the children, for ice cream and cookies and games on the veranda and back lawn. She loved children, and her rowdy, impromptu gatherings were some of Raney’s fondest childhood memories. As soon as Mama brought out her gigantic box of toys, the children crowded around, the younger ones pulling out trucks and dolls, the older ones challenging their parents to a soccer match. Timmy thought it was great fun and one time even connected with the ball, which took them fifteen minutes to track down by the creek.
By late afternoon, Hicks had awakened from his nap in one of the patio chairs and had made his escape with Alejandro. The parents began rounding up their kids and putting toys back in the box, while the elder Cardwells said their good-byes and herded Timmy toward their car with the new kitty Mama had insisted he take. One down, five to go.
Only Dalton stayed behind.
Raney offered him another beer. His second. She’d counted. Mama often warned her girls, “You watch how a man drinks and you’ll see the future ahead.” It looked like Dalton Cardwell wasn’t destined to be a big drinker.
He accepted the beer, knocked back half of it in a single breath, then sighed and plopped down into the chair Hicks had kept warm for him. “That went better than I expected.”
“It was fun.” Raney topped off her wineglass and took the chair across from him. “Mama’s gatherings always are.”
“She’s a hell of a lady.”
“That she is. But please don’t tell her. It’ll only egg her on.” She studied him as she sipped from her glass. “What had you worried? Timmy?”
When he didn’t answer, she went on. “He’s a sweet guy. And was very gentle with the children. They loved having him play with them.”
“Kids instinctively know. They don’t judge.” He took another swig, then idly scraped at the label with his thumbnail. “But he’s getting too big to play with little kids. He could hurt one and never know. It’s best that he goes to the group home in Plainview and learns how to fit in with other people like him. People with learning disabilities. He’d be better off there.”
He didn’t sound convinced. Raney wondered whom he was trying to persuade. Then a piece of the puzzle that was Dalton Cardwell fell into place. “You feel like you’re letting him down, don’t you? That you should do something—keep him close so you can watch out for him.”
He looked over at her but didn’t say anything.
His silence made her want to fill it. “You shouldn’t. I felt that way when Daddy died.” It surprised her to hear the words spoken aloud. She’d never admitted those feelings to anyone. But once started, she couldn’t seem to stop.
“I was in the truck when he had his heart attack. We were taking hay to the cattle in Pasture Three. I don’t know what we were talking about. Nothing important. Just talking. Then, suddenly, he yanked the wheel to the side. I thought maybe an animal had jumped in front of us. Or a tire blew. I remember slamming into the door and the truck careening off the road and into the fence.” She looked down at her wineglass. Deep red liquid. The color of blood where it met the sides.
“For a moment, the truck bucked against the barbed wire, the motor revving. The wheels dug up such a cloud of dust it filled the cab. Then the wire broke and we lurched forward and into a tree.”
Hardly aware she was doing it, she touched the faint ridge of a scar hidden in the hair by her temple. “I hit my head against the window post. Next thing I knew, the airbag was hanging out of the dash and smeared with blood, and Daddy was hunched over, grabbing at his chest and making terrible groaning, gasping noises. Like a cow having a calf, only worse.”
The words came faster. Her voice started to wobble. “At first, I thought his airbag had hurt him. I yelled at him and shook his shoulder. Panicky. Crying. Desperate to make him stop making those awful noises. But he didn’t.
“Until he did. And everything went quiet.”
Dalton’s silence weighted the air.
She struggled to take a deep breath. She wanted to cry but couldn’t. Hadn’t since that day.
And the words kept coming. “I always felt I should have done something. God knows I wanted to. But I didn’t know what. It was so quiet and still. Not real. So, I just sat there, watching blood soak into my jeans and hoping it would all go away.”
More silence.
Embarrassed to have blurted out such a thing, Raney gave a shaky laugh. “How’s that for a mood killer?”
When Dalton still didn’t respond, she looked over to see him staring at her, unmoving, the beer warming in his hand.
“I didn’t mean to burden you with all that,” she told him. “I just wanted you to know I understand why you might feel like you might be letting Timmy down.”
He set the beer aside and moved over to hunker beside her chair. The look in his eyes was as full of pain as the memories clutching at her throat.
“I’m sorry you went through that, Raney.” He cupped her cheek, his palm warm against her cold skin, his fingers so long they reached into her hair at her temple. “I would change it if I could.” Leaning in, he put his lips against hers. Gently. Briefly. Without passion. Like Daddy would do every night before he said good night and turned off the light.
It nearly broke her.
Then he drew back and looked so deeply into her eyes she felt stripped bare. “But I’m glad you told me.”
Then he rose and walked away.
CHAPTER 6
I’m in trouble now, Dalton thought, heels coming down hard on the packed-gravel drive as he walked toward the bunkhouse. It was probably written somewhere—in an FBI memo, or an OSHA manual, or a Supreme Court ruling—that it was against the law to kiss your boss. Workplace harassment, they’d call it. Rampant sexism. Toxic masculinity.
It hardly even qualified as a kiss. A quick, passionless press of his lips to hers. As a kid, he’d kissed his dog’s head the same way. Nothing to it. Almost fatherly. Meaningless, as far as kisses go. He could definitely do better.
But he wouldn’t.
Couldn’t even try.
Because she was his boss, and he didn’t want to be that guy.
He played it through his mind. Every word, every move, that sad, lost look in her eyes, the way her mouth trembled against his. A man and a woman and an expression of sympathy. He refused to consider it might have been more than that. Just an innocent kiss, that’s all.
With a woman who happened to be his boss.
Shit.
There was no way around it. Despite the power games she and her mother played, Raney was the boss of Whitcomb Four Star. It was Raney’s signature on the checks. Her voice issuing the orders. Her guidance the workers sought when they had a question or a problem. In only a few days, he had seen it happen again and again. No matter whose name was listed first on the deed, Raney ran the show.
And he wouldn’t be that guy. The one who overstepped, opened her to speculation and innuendo, diminished her in the eyes of the men who worked for her. He’d suffered that same kind of scrutiny since the day of his arrest. And he wouldn’t be the guy who brought it down on her.
Shit.
Doing an about-face, he walked back to the main house and knocked on the kitchen door. When Maria opened it, he said, “I need to see Mrs. Whitcomb as soon as she’s available.”
* * *
* * *
Raney was sitting at Daddy’s desk, calculating the projected irrigation costs versus the hay yield in Pasture Two when Mama walked in with a bemused expression on her face.
“I just had the oddest conversation with Dalton Cardwell.”
“About what?” Surely not what happened on the veranda an hour ago.
“About working with Press Amala. Did you talk to him about it?”
“I may have mentioned it. Is that a problem?” Raney bent over the ledger again. She didn’t want to talk about Dalton Cardwell. Or even think about him kissing her an hour ago. What was that about?
“Well, he’s all for it.” Her mother walked over to straighten a picture of her and Daddy with some long-dead senator. “He even gave me a half-dozen reasons why he thought it was a good idea.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I suppose. But he was so pushy about it. He even insisted I call Press this evening to see if he could start right away.” She brushed dust off a bookshelf, then turned and frowned at Raney. “Did something happen between you two?”
“Happen?” Raney put down her pen and sat back. With the shift of weight, the worn leather gave a soft exhalation that carried a faint scent of the cigars Daddy would smoke at his desk when Mama wasn’t home. “Like what?”
“Like you trying to fire him again.”
“Who told you about that?”
“Glenn. He heard it from Alejandro. I know you were opposed to—”
“No, I didn’t try to fire him again,” Raney cut in. Hadn’t even thought about it.
“Then why is he so intent on leaving? He’s only been here a few days.”
Probably embarrassed to face her after that emotional scene on the porch. Raney was embarrassed, too, but she wasn’t going to hide because of it. “Maybe one of his prison buddies is in town.”
“It’s the Sabbath,” her mother scolded. “At least try to be charitable.”
Raney flipped to another page in the ledger. She had no idea which one. “What’d you tell him?”
“That we’ll set it up. He seemed quite eager to get going.”
Eager, my ass. One little kiss and he cuts and runs as if he expected to feel the barrel of a shotgun jammed into his back. Like that would ever happen. A Whitcomb and an ex-con? Mama would have a conniption.
Besides, it wasn’t that great of a kiss. Pleasant, maybe, but no heart-stopper. Certainly not something a girl would put in her diary. Which Raney wouldn’t have even if she’d ever owned a diary, which she hadn’t, not with three sisters nosing around and an overprotective mother lurking at her shoulder. Still, it was disappointing. She had actually started to like the guy despite all the baggage that came with him.
Her mother cruised the room, then stopped by the desk. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Haven’t you been listening? About sending him to Press.”
“Send him, if that’s what you want.” Raney picked up her pen. “I’ll have Alejandro work Rosco.”
“Still . . .” Her mother dragged out the word, a sure sign she had more to say.
Raney didn’t bite.
That didn’t stop Mama. “It does seem odd that he would be so anxious to leave. Especially after the way he kept looking at you at dinner.”
And there it was. The bait had been flung. In silence, Raney watched it drop with a thud, then smiled up at her mother. “I wouldn’t go down that trail if I were you. I suspect he’s gay. Probably something he picked up in prison.”
“Gay? Really?” Mama thought about it and shook her head. “I think you’re wrong about that. He would be staring at Alejandro, rather than you, I’d think.”
“Whatever. You calling Amala, or should I?”
“You do it. I’m going to bed.”
Raney made the call. Press wasn’t there. His stable hand told her he was over in Arkansas, visiting with his married daughter and wouldn’t be back for a week. Raney asked him to have Press call when he got back and left her cell number. Then she went to bed, too. First thing tomorrow she’d give Dalton Cardwell the bad news that he wouldn’t be able to avoid her for at least a week.
* * *
* * *
Another restless night and she was wide awake Monday morning in time to see dawn lay a bright orange line along the eastern horizon.
Not wanting to show up early and have Dalton Cardwell think she was anxious to see him, she took her time showering and getting dressed. But when she was finished, she realized she’d overdone it, and Cardwell might think she’d fixed up just for him.
She checked the mirror and shook out her hair. She did look hot, even if she said so herself. Certainly better than how he usually saw her, except for last night at dinner. And after. When he kissed her. Unwilling to let all this hotness go to waste, she picked up her cell phone and called Bertie.
“Breakfast or lunch?” she asked when Bertie answered.
“Brunch. Mellie’s Diner.”
“Ten.” Raney hung up, dabbed on a spot of perfume, and headed to the barn.
Dalton Cardwell was gone, left the previous night, Glenn told her.
“He left?” Raney was caught off guard by the strength of her reaction. First, disappointment. She was actually beginning to enjoy their little confrontations. Then on the heels of that realization, came irritation. At him, for being such a coward. And at herself, for getting so upset about it.
“Left for where?” she asked Glenn. “Why?”
“His folks called last night. Needed his help, he said.”
Irritation faded. “Nothing bad, I hope.”
Glenn shook his head. “Their rental truck came through sooner than they expected. Said his folks need him to load it and drive it to their new place in Plainview. Didn’t say when he’d be back.” The foreman scratched his bristly chin. “Probably not long, the way those rental places charge. Maybe Wednesday. Want me to have Alejandro work Rosco? Or do you want to do it?”
