Rough Creek

by Kaki Warner

  “Absolutely! I’m so proud of you and Rosco. Have you called Mama?”

  “You do it. Love you. Later.”

  Once Raney settled down, she called Mama and gave her the news. It still didn’t seem real. For a debuting trainer to make the Futurity finals was almost too good to be true. But Dalton had done it.

  Mama was excited, too. She didn’t say anything about boxer underwear or men’s deodorant being in her room, and Raney certainly didn’t bring it up. They talked for a minute about the baby, the new parents, and how well Len and Ryan were doing. “And did I tell you I heard from KD?” Mama said. “She sent the cutest little glockenspiel for Lyric, although it’ll be months before she can start banging on it, thank the Lord.”

  “What’s a glockenspiel?”

  “Some sort of keyboard percussion instrument. Sounds like bells. You hear them in Christmas music.” Mama went on to say that KD was still in Germany, but would be getting new orders any day. “Probably Middle East or Africa. She can’t say where, but the whole area is a war zone, so I’m already starting to worry.”

  “Don’t,” Raney said. “KD can take care of herself.” Raney hoped that was true.

  “You’re right,” Mama said. “Instead I’ll worry about what you’re going to do with all Dalton’s winnings. It’s a sizable amount for those who make the finals. Have you decided how you’re going to handle that?”

  Raney wasn’t sure why her mother was interested. “I believe it all goes to the owners, and they share it with the trainer if they so choose.”

  “Just don’t give him all of it. He might misunderstand.”

  “Misunderstand what?”

  “You know how men are. How is Timmy?”

  Grateful for the change in subject, Raney said he was doing well enough to go home tomorrow. “I’ll head back to Fort Worth then. Dalton and Rosco are riding in the first group, so I need to be there no later than four. I’ll go directly to the trailer. If you can, take the hotel shuttle to the arena early, so you can get us good seats. Look for Press. He might be there, too. The finals! I still can’t believe it!”

  Hours later, she was still in disbelief, but eventually fell into an exhausted sleep with Dalton’s name whispering through her mind.

  * * *

  * * *

  She awoke early, showered, dressed, and was on her way to the hospital by eight thirty. If she was to make it back to the arena by four, she’d have to leave no later than eleven, and she wanted to tell the Cardwells good-bye before she left.

  As she came through the hospital doors, she saw Dalton’s parents exiting the elevator. Mr. Cardwell waved and hurried on down the hall, while Mrs. Cardwell waited for Raney. “Glad you came early,” she said as Raney walked up. “Looks like they’ll be discharging Timmy fairly soon.”

  “Great! He had a good night?”

  “Yes, praise the Lord. Dad’s going to the accounting office to take care of the paperwork, and I thought I’d grab something from the cafeteria for the trip home. Timmy was worried he wouldn’t see you before we left. Why don’t you go on up and give him your good-byes? We’ll be along directly.”

  As soon as Raney walked into his room, Timmy gave her a big smile and asked the same question he had asked her every time she’d arrived, even if she’d been gone only a few minutes.

  “Where’s Dalton? Did Dalton come, too?”

  He seemed fixated on where his brother might be. It had seemed amusing and touching at first, but now Raney was beginning to wonder if there was more to it than that. And now, when Raney said Dalton didn’t come, tears filled Timmy’s eyes.

  “Timmy, what’s wrong?”

  “He’s mad at me. He’s going away again.”

  “No, he’s not mad at you, Timmy. Why would you think he’s mad at you?”

  “It’s not my fault my arm broke.” More tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “Of course it isn’t.” Raney moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. She took Timmy’s good hand in hers. “What’s wrong, Timmy?”

  “I don’t like it when Dalton goes away.”

  “He’s not going away. He’s at the horse show, remember?”

  “I didn’t mean to fall.”

  Raney patted the big hand in hers. “He knows, Timmy. He’s not mad at you.”

  He looked up with tear-filled eyes. “He’s not going to the bad place?”

  “What bad place?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell.”

  His gaze moved past Raney and she turned to see the Cardwells in the doorway. They looked distressed, too. “Timmy’s upset,” she told them. “He’s afraid Dalton’s going away again. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  The Cardwells exchanged a glance. Mr. Cardwell gave a slight nod and stepped around his wife into the room. “Let’s get you ready to go home, Timmy.”

  Mrs. Cardwell remained in the doorway. She motioned to Raney. “Best come with me, Raney. We can talk in the waiting area by the nurses’ station.”

  Raney rose from the bed and followed her out, a sense of foreboding jangling along her nerves. “Talk about what, Mrs. Cardwell?” she asked when they reached the waiting area.

  The older woman motioned to two chairs beside a big window along the back wall. “We can talk privately here.”

  Once they were both seated, Mrs. Cardwell rubbed her palms along the skirt draped over her knees several times, then finally said, “If you’re serious about my son, there’s something you need to know.”

  And at that moment, as if something that had been hidden in her mind all along suddenly shifted into view, Raney knew. She had sensed it from the beginning. Had questioned the incongruities, wondered at Dalton’s unwillingness to talk about it and his surprising lack of remorse that had troubled her so much. Yet, even knowing, Raney still tried to block it. The worst had already happened. Dalton had been convicted and sent to prison. What more could Mrs. Cardwell tell her?

  “Is this about the wreck that killed the county commissioner’s nephew?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Cardwell took a deep breath, and in a weary, defeated voice said, “First of all, you have to understand how deeply Dalton’s emotions run. As soon as his brother was born, he took it upon himself to be Timmy’s guardian and watchdog. Even more so when we realized Timmy was special. If his little brother fell, or skinned a knee, or broke a plate, Dalton assumed that if he had been watching better, he could have prevented it from happening.”

  Raney understood that. She’d felt the same way about Joss when they were younger. Even into high school, she was still covering for her little sister.

  “There’s no one in the world as loyal as Dalton is,” the older woman went on with a brief smile. “And no one more intent on keeping his word or doing what he said he would do.”

  “I know.” Raney thought of what Dalton had said in the diner about promises being the only thing in this world a person had any control over. “What are you trying to tell me, ma’am?”

  “It wasn’t Dalton who caused the wreck. It was Timmy.”

  Raney had expected it. Even so, hearing the words spoken aloud was like a blow to her heart. And beneath the shock and dismay and confusion, fury bubbled. “Why?” A part of her was surprised at how calm her voice sounded. “Why did he take the blame for it?”

  “Because that’s what Dalton always did for Timmy, what he thought his job was. And because that night he was tired and it was late, and when Timmy asked if he could drive the tractor across the road to the other pasture, he said yes.”

  The anger burst forth. “That’s no reason to allow yourself to be branded a felon and give up almost two years of your life.”

  Surprisingly, Mrs. Cardwell agreed. “No, it’s not. But we couldn’t talk him out of it. In Dalton’s mind, because he’d allowed it to happen—because he hadn’t been vigilant enough—it truly wa
s his fault.”

  “And he never spoke up about what really happened.”

  “No. He made us promise we wouldn’t, either. But I thought you should know.”

  Raney sat for a moment, staring out the picture window, trying to bring her anger under control. It was a stupid sacrifice. Considering his disability, nothing would have happened to Timmy had he admitted he was at fault. They don’t put the mentally challenged in jail. But even if Dalton insisted on taking the blame, if he had taken it to trial, he might have gotten off. She couldn’t get her mind past that. And even harder to accept was that Dalton hadn’t told her the truth of what had happened. How could they go on if there were secrets like that between them?

  “I can see you’re angry,” Mrs. Cardwell said, breaking into Raney’s thoughts. “Dad and I felt the same way. But nothing we did or said would sway him. Dalton loves Timmy. And that means he will do everything in his power to protect and defend his little brother. It’s part of his nature.”

  Raney knew that. She had seen it in action. Had felt it directed at her. It probably even accounted for his special bond with horses. But she still thought it was wrong. If he was so driven to honesty, why had he lied about the wreck? And why had he lied to her about it? And what else might he be lying about?

  She would ask him.

  Raney stood. “Thank you for telling me all this, Mrs. Cardwell. I know it was difficult. But I should leave now if I’m to make it back in time for the finals.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Talk to him. He owes me an explanation himself. If he won’t allow himself to give it, then I guess we’re done.” The thought of that opened a dark, empty place in her chest. But she couldn’t spend the rest of her life wondering what secrets might lurk between them. “Please tell Timmy and Mr. Cardwell good-bye.”

  Five minutes later, Raney was on the road to Fort Worth.

  CHAPTER 26

  Dalton didn’t hear from Raney that morning, and she didn’t answer her cell when he called. He thought that odd, but figured she had gotten out early and was on the road.

  He and Alejandro gave the horses a morning workout, then cleaned them up and let them rest. Dalton tried to rest, too. He’d been out late the night before, celebrating with other finalists, and had downed more than his usual two-beer limit. As a result, he had a low-grade headache and rumbly stomach. At lunch, rather than risk being accosted again by Rayburn or another owner, he grabbed something from a booth in the exhibition hall and ate it back at the trailer, then stretched out on the couch for a short nap.

  It seemed he had just closed his eyes when he heard the trailer door open. Still half-asleep, he looked over to see Raney coming through the doorway. She didn’t look happy.

  “You made it,” he said, sitting up.

  She closed the door, then stood there, a guarded expression on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I know what happened the night of the wreck.”

  It was so out of context he couldn’t process it. “What?”

  “Your brother let it slip and your mother filled in the rest. Why couldn’t you tell me, yourself, Dalton? Why did you let me think you were the one who caused Jim Bob’s death? Didn’t you trust me with the truth?”

  He was still so groggy he was having trouble making sense of what she was saying. Or why she was talking about the wreck now. Or why his mother had even told her about it in the first place. “Hey, slow down.” He raked a hand through his hair and waved her toward the armchair beside the couch. “Give me a minute to wake up. Then we’ll talk.”

  “I’d rather stand. I’ve been sitting for the last five hours.”

  And stewing, he guessed. “Sit down anyway. Please.”

  Wide awake now, he sat back, watched her settle into the chair, legs and arms crossed, her face stiff with anger. Shutting him out.

  He should have known this would happen. He should have told her. Raney wasn’t one to settle for half answers. Hell. If she was that determined to hear it, he’d give her the whole truth, ugly as it was. “I didn’t tell you because I promised my folks I’d never discuss it.”

  “And a promise given is a promise kept, right?”

  He’d never heard that tone before. It awakened his own anger. “Yeah.”

  “Well, not to worry. They released you from that promise, so now you can explain it to me. Why didn’t you tell anyone your brother caused the wreck? People like Timmy don’t go to prison.”

  “Maybe not. More likely he would have been warehoused in some state institution. Which would have been as bad as prison for Timmy.”

  “He might have gotten off with probation.”

  “I doubt it. Commissioner Adkins wouldn’t have settled for that. If he’d known Timmy was driving the tractor, he would have filed a wrongful death suit and taken everything my parents had. Since I had nothing, he didn’t bother to sue me and took his pound of flesh by sending me to prison, instead.”

  She studied him, leg swinging, arms crossed. “So you took the blame.”

  He spread his hands in frustration. “Because I was to blame, Raney. I let him take the tractor to the other pasture. And I forgot to tell him to stop and look both ways before he crossed the road. Such a simple thing you forget to mention it, you assume a person would know.” He sighed and shook his head, the burden of guilt no lighter now than it had been two years ago. “But I didn’t remind him like I should have and Timmy didn’t look and because of it, a man died. In balance”—he lifted a hand, then let it drop back to his knee—“a year and a half in prison for me, compared to the horrors that might await Timmy in prison, or being sent to an institution. I couldn’t do that to my brother.”

  They sat in silence. Then she said, “But if you hadn’t confessed, if you’d gone to trial—”

  He cut her off. “I don’t play what-if games, Raney. Not with the lives of people I love, and not after the fact. I did what I thought was right. Period.” Couldn’t she understand that? Couldn’t she see what she was doing to the fragile trust between them?

  In the distance, the announcer’s voice sounded. Dalton saw on his watch that it was after four o’clock. The lead-up to the finals had begun. “Are we done here?”

  “Not quite.”

  “What else do you need to know?” He tried to keep impatience out of his voice, but it was hard. Why now? All this was past history and rehashing wouldn’t change it.

  “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  “It was over and done with. I saw no reason to.” He rubbed a hand over his face, as if he could wipe the whole conversation away. How could this be happening? How could she see only the bad and ignore what they meant to each other?

  “So, you lied to me instead.”

  His head shot up. “I never lied to you, Raney. Not once.”

  “You let me think you’d caused Jim Bob’s death. Isn’t that a lie?”

  He felt half-sick. He didn’t know what to say or do, or how to make her see it didn’t matter anymore. All that was important was that they loved each other. He’d do anything in his power to make this right, but he couldn’t change the past.

  “I understand why you did what you did,” she admitted. “I might even have made the same decision. But what I don’t understand, Dalton,” she added, her voice starting to wobble, “is why you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. That’s what I can’t get past.”

  “You’re right. I should have told you. I’m sorry.” What more could he say?

  “I’m not sure that’s good enough.”

  The loudspeaker blared out the opening music. He shut his mind to it. “Then what do you want, Raney? What can I do to fix this? Tell me, and I’ll do it.”

  She just looked at him, tears filling her eyes.

  He saw defeat. An uncrossable distance spreading between
them. And the realization came—as unexpected and unimaginable as an incoming mortar round—that he was losing her.

  Panic paralyzed him. He couldn’t breathe or think. “Don’t do this, Raney. Don’t let this be the end of us.”

  Before she could respond, the trailer door opened and Alejandro stuck his head inside. “It is time. The horses are saddled and ready. We must hurry.”

  “You do it,” Dalton told him. “You ride for me.”

  “No!” Raney bolted from the chair. “You can’t do that to Rosco. Or to me. Do what you came to do. Go on,” she said to Alejandro. “He’s coming.”

  Alejandro left.

  Dalton rose. He started for the door, stopped, and turned back, watched the tears roll down her face, and felt like puking.

  “This isn’t over, Raney. Nothing’s changed for me. I still love you. But you need to figure out how you feel, and where we go from here. Whatever you decide, this conversation is done. Accept it or don’t. I’m not talking about it again.” Then, while he still could, he left.

  * * *

  * * *

  As soon as the door closed behind him, emptiness engulfed Raney. She doubled over, arms pressed against her stomach, sobs tearing through her throat.

  How had it come to this? How had they let it come to this?

  Dimly, she heard the loudspeaker calling out the opening order for first go. Heard Rosco’s name, his sire and dam, Dalton’s name, then hers, as the owner. It was starting. Without her.

  Left behind again.

  A moment later, she was racing toward the arena.

  Mama met her halfway. “Where have you been? They’re starting! Oh, Lord, Raney, you’re crying! What have you done?”

  “Hurry!” Raney shouted as she ran on.

  They made it into the arena just as the first rider’s name was called. “We have time to reach the observation deck,” she said to her mother as she raced up the stairs.

  They made it. Raney ducked through the other owners and trainers gathered on the deck and looked down, saw Dalton standing beside Rosco, and something seemed to rip apart inside.