Rough Creek

by Kaki Warner

  Ten minutes later, she was putting Sassy through her paces in the arena.

  The mare was amazing. Smooth gaited, responsive, sensitive to the lightest touch on the reins, and a rocking-chair lope. “Oh, Dalton,” Raney said, reining in where he waited by the gate. “She’s awesome! An absolute dream!”

  He grinned up at her, so tall she could almost bend down and kiss him without shifting in the saddle. “You like her?”

  “I adore her!” And you. A dangerous thought. Too soon, she reminded herself, remembering how Press had said to break him in slow.

  “Then she’s yours.”

  Raney laughed. “I know. I wrote the check.”

  “Then how about I buy her back, then give her to you.”

  “How about you saddle up and ride with me. I have a hankering for wide-open spaces, a fast horse beneath me, and the wind in my face. Open the gate, cowboy!”

  He did and they shot through. Within moments she heard a horse coming up behind her and looked back to see Dalton racing toward her on one of the geldings, riding bareback, his long legs reaching past the horse’s belly, his dark hair whipping in the wind. He rode like a warrior. Like he was born to it and the horse beneath him was simply an extension of his will.

  She slowed until he came alongside, then pointed to a lone pine a hundred yards away. “Race you!” she cried, and kicked the mare into a gallop. By the time they neared the tree, she was laughing for the pure joy of it. This was what she’d been missing, what she needed. The speed. The wind. The pounding of the hooves as the ground swept by. Freedom to run, to escape, to fly.

  “God, I’ve missed this!” she said as he pulled in beside her. “I forgot how much fun it is to just ride.”

  “I can tell.” He smiled, watching her, his expression almost tender. “You should do it more often.”

  “I wish I could.”

  “What’s holding you back?”

  They continued on toward a watering hole near the back fence line, keeping the horses at a walk to cool them down. “Paperwork. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in it.”

  “Then hire someone to help you. You don’t have to do it all yourself.”

  She wondered if she could do that, if she could relinquish control so easily. With the right person, maybe. Someone she could trust to care for the ranch the same way she did. She glanced over at Dalton, wondering if he could be that person. Or if it was too soon to ask.

  “Do you consider me a workhorse?” she asked when they stopped at the pond to let the horses drink. “Joss said I was.”

  He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not a workhorse. More like a sleek, spirited Thoroughbred who’s been penned too long. Or maybe a high-stepping Arabian. Or a—”

  Laughing, she raised a hand. “Enough with the horse analogies. Sorry I asked.”

  They reined the horses away from the water before they drank too much, and rode on through tall grass already turning brown in the summer sun.

  Raney took in a deep breath and let it out. She’d hadn’t felt so relaxed in a long time. It was a beautiful, cloudless day, not too hot, despite summer knocking on the door. Blue sky above her, a beautiful horse beneath her, and a handsome man at her side. One of those perfect moments she’d treasure forever.

  They came across a small herd of yearling bulls. Remembering what Press had said about keeping the mare away from cattle until she knew what the horse would do, Raney studied them from a distance as they rode by, seeing several strong possibilities for the breeding program.

  As they neared the barn, she became aware of Dalton studying her, a thoughtful look on his face. “What?” she asked.

  “I was just thinking about all you do to keep this place running. I can see it’s a lot of work. It wouldn’t be a sign of weakness to ask for help, you know.”

  “You offering?” she asked.

  “You asking?” he countered.

  She brushed a horsefly off Sassy’s mane and thought about what it would mean to let someone else carry a little of the load. Someone like Dalton. He couldn’t train horses all the time. He was probably bored as it was. And Glenn was getting old. No doubt he would welcome the help. Plus, he’d be there to keep an eye on things and let her know if Dalton wasn’t cutting it. Although, she wasn’t truly concerned about that. Dalton was a smart, capable guy. He’d pick it up in no time. Besides, she’d already turned over her prized colt to him. Why not let him take over some of the ranch chores, too?

  She looked over at him. “Yes. I guess I’m asking.”

  His smile told her she’d given him the answer he wanted. “What do you want me to do?”

  “For now, help Hicks. He’s good at managing the workers and the stock. But he’s a bit baffled by the AI program. It’s mostly a matter of paperwork. We have technicians who come in weekly to monitor the equipment and handle the semen extractions and the impregnations, and a vet comes once a month to run labs on the bulls. You willing to take that on?”

  “Sure.” His smile broadened to a full-on grin, which told her a smart-ass quip was on the way. “I’ve always been interested in breeding.”

  “I bet you have. I’ll give Glenn the good news at supper. He’ll be delighted. Tomorrow he can start familiarizing you with how we do things, the equipment, the bull rotation, our client list, and so on. That way, when the vet comes at the end of the month, you’ll be trained on all the breeding procedures.”

  “I already know how to breed.”

  She gave him a shut up look.

  “And what equipment is needed,” he went on. “In fact, I’ve been told, I’m—”

  “Stop! Just stop!”

  He laughed. “Lighten up, babe. We’re just talking about cattle, right? Or were you thinking of something else?”

  “You’re incorrigible.” He was such a goofball. The king of innuendo. His quirky sense of humor always lightened her mood and made her laugh.

  A sudden thought burst into her mind. Dalton makes me happy.

  It was true. Dalton Cardwell, ex-con, gifted horse trainer, awesome kisser, and unrepentant smart-ass, made her happy. He gave her hope again. “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him through a sheen of tears.

  “For what?”

  “For earlier. For this. For making a terrible day into one of the best ones I’ve had in a long time.”

  That crooked smile. “For you, Raney, I’d do anything. Don’t you know that by now?”

  Raney was still smiling as she headed to the house, hoping for a quiet moment on the veranda before cleaning up for supper. With the days growing steadily hotter, she’d already had Harvey and Chuey convert the outdoor patio into an air-conditioned room. Woven see-through blinds now hung from the outer roof beam to block heat and sun. Flexible sprinkler lines strung along the eaves pumped out a fine mist that turned hot, dry air into cool, moist air. Evaporative coolers at either end of the long, rectangular space added more cooling, while three overhead fans kept the air circulating. It was Raney’s favorite summertime retreat, and she was looking forward to stretching out on a chaise for a few minutes and enjoying a glass of wine.

  Until she came up the steps and found Joss hunched over in one of the cushioned chairs, arms pressed to her stomach, sobbing.

  CHAPTER 15

  “What is it?” Raney cried, rushing to her sister’s side. “Is it the baby? Is she coming?” Be just like Joss to go into premature labor while Mama was gone.

  “No, silly,” her sister said between sniffs. “She’s not due for weeks yet. It’s that bastard, Grady. Damn him!”

  Raney hurried to the kitchen, ripped off a couple of paper towels, wet one, and went back to her sister. “Wipe your face,” she said, holding out the wet towel.

  She vaguely remembered Joss mentioning someone named Grady during their drive from Waco. Since her sister had refused to elaborate, Raney w
asn’t sure what he meant to her, but she was beginning to get an idea.

  When Joss finished wiping her face, Raney handed her the dry towel. “Now quit crying and tell me who Grady is.”

  “My baby daddy.”

  As Raney had suspected. “What did he do that has you so upset?”

  “This!” Joss pointed.

  Raney saw a wad of hundred-dollar bills and a crumpled letter on the floor by her chair. “He gave you money?” she asked, confused.

  “Like I was a whore! Like he was paying me for sleeping with him! God, I hate that man!” More tears rose.

  While Joss wiped her face again, Raney gathered up the bills—a thousand dollars’ worth—put them on the side table, then picked up the crumpled letter.

  “Is this from him? Can I read it?”

  “Like I care.”

  There wasn’t much to it. The money is for the baby. Our baby. I’ll send more soon. I still do and always will love you, Joss, even though you’re being irresponsible and hardheaded about this. See you soon, Grady.

  Nothing about whores or services rendered.

  Dalton came up the steps, saw Joss was crying, and did an about-face.

  “Joss is upset,” Raney said.

  “I can see that.” With reluctance, he turned back around, walked over, gave Joss an awkward there, there pat on her shoulder, and said, “What’s up, Buttercup?”

  Raney rolled her eyes. The guy had been in a war and prison, but a few tears freaked him out? “She got a letter from Grady, her baby’s father. Can Dalton read it, Joss?”

  “He can post it on the Internet, for all I care.”

  Dalton read the letter, glanced at the money, then at Raney, his brows raised in question.

  Raney shrugged.

  “He sent you money,” he said to Joss.

  “Exactly! The bastard! I can’t believe he’d do that to me!”

  “Money is bad?”

  Seeing that her sister was about to go nuclear, Raney explained that Joss saw the money as Grady’s payment for sleeping with him, like she was a prostitute.

  Dalton studied the letter again. “It doesn’t say that. All it says here is that the money is for the baby. Nothing about you being a prostitute.”

  “She’s not a prostitute!” Raney defended.

  “It’s implied,” Joss muttered.

  An implacable expression came over Dalton’s face. Raney had seen it twice before—at their run-in on the day she’d tried to fire him, and earlier in the car when he’d told her he didn’t want her money. She had hoped never to see it again.

  “No, it isn’t, Joss,” Dalton said with a noticeable lack of sympathy for Raney’s distraught sister. “You’re putting in words that aren’t there. All I see is a guy trying to do the right thing for his baby. And you.”

  “He said I was being irresponsible and hardheaded.”

  “Maybe you are.”

  Raney glared at him.

  Joss teared up.

  Dalton thrust the letter at her. “Read it again, Joss. He also said he still loved you. Isn’t that worth something?”

  While she read it again, Dalton hunkered beside her chair and stroked a hand down her back. “Whatever happened between the two of you,” he went on in a gentler tone, “at least the guy’s trying. Can you give him that, at least?”

  Joss smoothed the crinkles out of the letter then carefully folded it. “He doesn’t deserve it,” she said. But her voice held less anger now and the tears had stopped.

  How did he do that? Raney wondered. How did he know exactly what to say?

  “Probably not,” Dalton agreed, still stroking her back. “But he’s just a guy, and we can be pretty dumb sometimes.”

  Joss gave him a wobbly smile. “Sometimes?”

  Raney sank into another cushioned chair, relieved the sobfest was over. Joss’s emotional fits always left her rattled. She never knew what to say or do, other than to lose patience. And as happened too often in the past, she had been so desperate to end the shitstorm and do something, even if it was wrong, she hadn’t realized what Joss really needed.

  But Dalton knew. Like when Raney had panicked and shut down. He hadn’t given up. Not then and not now with Joss. With the same soothing approach he used on frightened horses, he had calmed her fears and Joss’s hysterics, while giving them both the reassurance they’d needed. He should be canonized.

  With a last pat on Joss’s back, Dalton rose. “You done crying, Buttercup?”

  “For now. Fancy Pants.”

  “Good. I don’t like it.” He settled in another chair. “Now tell us about this Grady guy and why you’re mad at him, and what you want us to do about it.”

  Us? We’re a family now? The man certainly knew how to take charge.

  Raney knew within a few minutes after Joss began that her sister was still in love with the man she claimed to hate. As she talked about him, her expression softened into something wistful, almost sad. Her voice lost that sharp edge of anger, and she trailed her fingers over the letter in her lap almost as if she were touching the man himself.

  This could be bad, Raney thought.

  His name was Grady Douglas. He was seven years older than Joss and close to Dalton’s age. Raney got the impression from things her sister said—and things she didn’t say—that Grady was a lot more mature than she was and had taken on the role of protector in the drug-and-alcohol-infused world of touring musicians. Protector, and lover, it seemed.

  Grady managed Crystal, the headliner, Joss explained. He booked appearances, arranged transportation, handled security, and kept the aging singer sober enough to go onstage. “Touring with a band isn’t as glamorous as I thought it would be,” Joss admitted. “I wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did if it hadn’t been for Grady.” She gave a sad smile. “I know I said some mean things about him, but he really did take good care of me.”

  “In what way?” Raney asked.

  “It was his idea to have me open for Crystal. And he’s the one who convinced her to sing a couple of my songs at the concert in Houston. They sounded amazing with the band behind them, although between you and me, I might have sung them better. He also showed me how to copyright my songs so no one could record them without paying me. And he even helped me cut a demo and showed me who to send it to. He’s smart that way. He told me I would be a star if only I could get my music in front of the right people.” She gave a long sigh and slumped back in her chair. “Fat chance that’ll happen now.”

  “Why? What’s changed?” Dalton asked.

  “I got pregnant, that’s what changed. As soon as I told him, he started ragging on me all the time. That’s why I got off the bus in Waco. I couldn’t take it anymore. Now I’m afraid he’ll show up here and start nagging me again.”

  “He won’t,” Raney assured her. “Dalton and I won’t let him bother you.”

  Dalton nodded. “Just part of my new job as household security.”

  “What does he nag you about?” Raney asked.

  “Everything. What I eat. How much I sleep. How I feel. Who I spend time with. Will I marry him? Do I need a back rub? He never lets up.”

  Raney glanced at Dalton. He seemed as baffled as she was. “Grady asked you to marry him? And you said no? Why?”

  “I already told you. He nags me all the time. Sort of like you and Mama, if you must know. And for the record, I’m not an idiot. I can manage my own life.”

  And how’s that going for you? Raney couldn’t say that, of course, or point out that if Joss was so adept at managing her life, why was she living at home again, unemployed, with an unplanned baby on the way and an unplanned future ahead?

  “So, you don’t intend to marry him,” Dalton said as if trying to find a place for that idea in his head.

  “Not unless he quits ragging on me and doesn’t in
sist I give up my music.”

  “He’s asked you to do that?”

  “He implied it.”

  Dalton got that look on his face again, but before he said anything, the hall clock chimed the hour.

  Raney checked her watch and saw that it was almost time for supper. The mutes would be showing up soon, and she had planned to talk to Glenn about turning over the AI program to Dalton. She stood, figuring this was a good place to stop before Joss and Dalton said things neither would like hearing.

  Knowing his manners, Dalton stood, too.

  “We’ll finish this later, Joss,” she said to her sister. “It’s almost supper. You have time for a quick shower, if you want.” If she came to the table looking as weepy as she did now, the mutes would turn tail.

  “I think I’ll skip dinner tonight.” Joss stuffed the money and letter back into the mailer they’d come in. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You need to eat something. I can have Maria send up a tray.”

  “Don’t bother. I think I’ll take a nap instead.”

  Seeing her baby sister hurting threw Raney back into the anxious-big-sister role she thought had ended years ago. It was weird, but nice to be needed again. “I’ll come up and check on you after the guys leave. We can talk then.”

  “Dalton’s not allowed upstairs.”

  It was no surprise that Joss would want Dalton there while they talked. He had that effect on people. Calm, reassuring, willing to listen. It made people open up to him, like she had that night here on the veranda, and today, when she’d spewed all that garbage about Trip. Maybe he could help her little sister, too. “All right.” She patted Joss’s shoulder. “Go take your nap. I’ll have Maria set aside a plate.”

  As she watched her sister walk away, Raney felt Dalton’s arm slide across her shoulders. Pulling her against his side in a one-arm hug, he muttered, “You’re a fucking saint,” and kissed her temple. “And a hell of a good big sister.”