Lonestar Sanctuary (26 page)

"Good girl. I'm proud of you."

"Whatever. It's just one day."

"It only takes one day at a time. Believe me, I know." He watched
her sashay back upstairs. It was so easy to dispense advice and so hard
to live by it.

When was he going to let go of his past? All it took was a choice
like Latoya had made tonight. God had forgiven him he had no
doubt about that. It was time he forgave himself.

He bowed his head and vowed to make a choice this one day to let
go of the guilt.

SHE WOULDN'T EVEN NEED MAKEUP TO BE A RODEO CLOWN. ALLIE PEERED
through swollen lids at her reflection in the mirror. Purple discoloration bloomed around her eyes and forehead. Her lips looked
swollen too. A large goose egg jutted from her forehead.

It was enough to frighten little children.

She pulled on her jeans, wincing at the pain the movements
caused. Betsy watched her with big, scared eyes. "It's okay," she told
her daughter. "It looks worse than it is. I'm fine. My muscles are just
sore like when I work hard all day."

After two days, this soreness should have been gone. She should
be moving around by now instead of letting everyone force her to
stay in bed.

She held out her hand to Betsy, and the little girl climbed off the bed
and came to her. "Let's go fix breakfast," she told her. "Everyone will be
starved, and I need to get everything back to normal. I can't stay in this
room another minute. I might scream. Want to hear me scream, Bets?"

Betsy giggled, putting her hand over her mouth. She nodded. Allie
smiled back. "Ah!" she screamed.

Betsy giggled again. A giggle was a sound. It was the promise of
hope.

When Allie opened her bedroom door, she could smell the aroma
of bacon. "Guess they thought they were going to make me stay up
here another day," she said. Her head felt clear for the first time in three
days, but she took her time getting down the steps to the kitchen.

Rick stood at the stove with a fork in his hand. When the frying
bacon popped, he winced and put the back of his hand to his mouth.
The bacon was beginning to smell a little burned. Jem sat at his feet
with his tongue hanging out.

"You practicing for the fire department?" she asked.

He whipped around and pointed the fork at her. "You're supposed
to be resting. I can handle this."

"Uh-huh, I think your bacon is burning"

He turned back around with an exclamation and began to fork up
the bacon onto a plate. A few pieces fell to the floor, and Jem gobbled
them up.

Allie chuckled to herself and moved to the stove. She bumped him
out of the way. "Scoot before you have to break out the big hoses."
Plucking the fork from his hand, she turned off the heat and moved
the skillet away so she could get the bacon to the plate. Half-cooked
scrambled eggs were mounded in a bowl on the counter. The congealed mess looked hardly edible.

Allic got out a fresh skillet, transferred a little bacon drippings
from the old skillet and dumped the eggs back in to finish cooking.
The bacon was a little overdone but salvageable. "You can fix some
toast," she said.

He gave her a shamefaced grin and took the bread out of the
brcadbox. "I'm a lousy cook."

I noticed." Smiling made her face hurt, but in a good way.

God had protected all of them, and she was alive. There was much
to he thankful for.

"Did things go well with Jon's parents and Betsy?" she asked. She
vaguely remembered their brief visit in her room.

"They only stayed an hour. Betsy seemed afraid of them. Has she
not been around them much?"

"We used to visit every week, but they're so loud and bossy that
they scare her. And me," she admitted. "Sunday dinners were just
painful. Betsy could never sit quietly enough or eat nicely enough. I
quit going about three months ago except for an occasional visit. They
might be her grandparents, but they weren't helping her get well.
She'd wet the bed for two nights after every visit."

Rick put his big hand on her shoulder. "They won't get her away
from us," he said.

Smiling up at him, she thought about how she'd misjudged him the
night they met. For all his size, his gentleness and caring were rare.

And very appealing.

Rick called the rest of the bunch for breakfast. Latoya seemed
unusually quiet, and even the boys were morose. Fern didn't say anything, but that wasn't unusual.

"What's with everyone?"Allie asked. "You'd think someone died."

The kids just looked at one another, then their gazes went back to their plates. Allie met Rick's gaze across the table. He shrugged and
raised his brows as if to say he didn't know what was up.

"One week, and we're checkin' out," Devon said finally. "Gotta go
back to the city."

Latoya put out her lip. "I wanted to learn to barrel race first."

"How about if I teach you before you leave?"Allie stood and began
to clear the table.

"You're not well enough to do much with that," Rick said, taking
the plates from her hands. "Go rest."

"I'm not an invalid." She tried to snatch the plates back, but he
held them up out of her reach.

"Then go do your book work."

Her hands fell to her sides. She was so far behind on that book
work. Did he know? She examined his face. There was something in
his eyes that made her wonder if he realized how out of her element
she was with paperwork.

"I'll do that," she said evenly. She turned to the teenagers. "You
guys go curry the horses and get them saddled. We'll practice some
barrel racing"

"Can I take Betsy with me?" Fern asked in her soft voice.

Allie grappled with the thought of Betsy being out of her sight.
"She'd better stay with me."

"I'll be out there," Rick said. "It's okay."

Allie opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Rick had
been on her to quit coddling Bets, and he was right. Nothing would
happen to her daughter with Rick there.

"I'll guard her with my life. You know that."

Allie nodded. "I'll be out in a little while." She headed to the
office, and her head began to ache with every step toward the torture chamber. The bright sunlight cast spears of pain into her eyes, and she
crossed the room to close the blinds. When she turned back to the
desk, she saw a box on it.

It was addressed to her. Dread seized her throat. Could it be
another message from the killer?

Taking a step back, she stared at it. She wasn't going to let him terrorize her. She grabbed a letter opener and held it like a knife.
Flipping it around, she slit the tape and opened the box. She didn't
want to look inside.

He might have put a dead snake or something in it.

She should probably call Rick, but she told herself not to be a
ninny. It was only a package. Snapping open the top, she peered inside.
Wads of bubble wrap obscured the contents. Unable to help herself,
she popped a bubble before lifting it out. Under it was an eyeglass
case. Under that was a folder.

A movement by the door caught her eye, and she looked up to see
Rick leaning against the doorjamb with Betsy in his arms. They were
both smiling.

"Open the case," he said, crossing the room to join her at the desk.
He set Betsy on the floor.

"This is from you?"

He nodded. "It's to celebrate our new beginning." His smile widened.

Then she realized what this was. "Overlays for reading, and pink
glasses?" She didn't wait for him to answer but picked up the case
and opened it. The glasses were as precious as gold. She perched
them on her nose, and the soft color washed the hard glare out of
her vision.

"Rick, they're wonderful." She whirled and leaped at him. He
caught her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you!" Before she could have second thoughts, she kissed him.

His lips were firm and gentle. She pulled away and looked into his
eyes. "It's the nicest present anyone ever got me."

"I'm glad," he whispered.

"You can put me down now." Her feet dangled at least eight inches
off the floor.

"What if I don't want to?" He grinned, but his eyes told her he
was serious. He brushed her lips with a soft kiss, then set her on the
floor.

Allie stepped away and looked around the room. Her eyes widened
as she took in details of the room she'd missed before. The soft patina
of oak bookshelves, the detail in the oriental rug on the floor.
"Everything is so much clearer!"

"Glad they help you." He shoved his hands into the pockets of
his jeans.

"How'd you get them?"

"Ordered them online at the library. I want to give you what you
need," he said.

Her exuberance gave way to self-consciousness. Did he expect
something from her for them? She wasn't ready to do anything more
than share a quick kiss.

His gaze searched hers as if he were looking for something. A
heavy sigh eased out. She wasn't quite sure what he'd hoped to see,
but it hurt that she'd disappointed him.

The light in his eyes dimmed. He took Betsy's hand and disappeared from the room. Allie sighed and got to work. She found the
book work a breeze with her new eyeglasses and the overlays. The
numbers and letters didn't jump around, and she quickly input the
data in the account book and wrote the checks for the bills.

It only took an hour, then she shut the book and locked it in the
desk. The kids would be ready for their first barrel-racing lesson. She
stepped to the door. The phone rang, and she backtracked.

"Bluebird Ranch," she said into the receiver. There was only silence
on the line. "Hello, is anyone there?"

A song began to play. Eddy Arnold's rich voice came to her ear,
singing, "Gonna Find Me a Bluebird." The phone dropped from her
fingers.

How did he know she loved that song?

She backed away from the phone, then bolted from the room. In
her haste, she banged her shoulder against the doorjamb, but the pain
barely slowed her down. Her boots slid on the polished wood floor of
the hallway, but she managed to stay on her feet and ran to the front
door. Throwing it open, she stepped out into the sunlight and stood
blinking on the porch.

The hills had a watching quality, as if he stood hidden among the
rocks with binoculars trained on her. Maybe he did. How could he
know so much about her unless he was nearby?

RICK LENGTHENED THE STIRRUPS ON THE SADDLE HE HAD PDT ON BETSY'S
mare. "We're going to see how she likes being ridden, Betsy."

The little girl had an uneasy frown between her eyes, but she nodded. Her gaze cleared, and she looked up at him with such trust that
he felt ten feet tall and bulletproof.

"Don't you think she needs a name?" he asked. "It would make her
feel more at home."

Betsy hesitated, then nodded. The tip of her tongue came out, and
she wetted her lips. Rick held his breath.

Say something, honey. He didn't dare say the words for fear of breaking the spell.

"Bluebird," Betsy said in a voice so soft and hoarse it barely carried
above the sound of the wind.

Rick wanted to sweep her into his arms and lift her high, but he
tempered his excitement. He glanced toward the house, wanting to
run and tell Allie, but if Betsy thought it was a huge deal, she might
clam up again. "Okay, Bluebird is what we'll call her. She's a blue roan,
so it fits." He ran his hand over the horse's neck. "How do you like
your new name, Bluebird?"

The horse turned and looked at him, and he could have almost
sworn the mare recognized how important it was that Betsy had
named her. He rubbed the mare's face and ears. "I'm going to get on
your back, girl. I'll try not to hurt you."

He fitted his boot into the stirrup. Bluebird didn't move away but
stood still and quiet. Testing his weight, he stepped onto the stirrup,
then back off, but again she didn't move. Though she'd been abused,
she was going to let him mount.

With a smooth, easy movement, he swung onto her back.
Mistake. The mare began to buck and snort, arching her back into the
air like a rodeo bronco. She tossed Rick so high he could have
snatched at the clouds. Seconds later, he was flat on his back with his
mouth full of dust and staring up at the mare's underbelly. She was
still bucking, and he rolled away before she could trample him.

Betsy ran to him and patted his face with her small hands. "Okay?"
she asked in her rusty voice.

"I'm fine, Bets. We should go find your mother though."

Betsy must have thought he meant he needed Allie's help, because
she took off like a roadrunner, running so fast she kicked dust back into his face. He spit it out and sat up as Betsy returned with her
mother in tow. Allie must have already been outside and on her way.
At least she hadn't seen his humiliating fall.

He bolted to his feet before she could help him. "Betsy, tell your
mom what you named your mare."

Allie's eyes went wide, and her lips parted. "You gave your horse
a name, Betsy?"

The little girl nodded. "Bluebird," she said again in her rough
voice.

Allie dropped to her knees and pulled Betsy into her arms. "That's
a wonderful name, Bets," she said in a choked voice. "It suits her."

"Bluebirds can be vicious if you've ever seen them shaking a
worm. Bluebird isn't as sweet as she looks." Rick said, dusting off
his jeans.

"She threw you?"Allie stood but kept Betsy's hand in hers.

"Like a roadrunner shaking a snake." He grinned and took Betsy's
other hand, but the little girl pulled away from both of them and ran
to climb onto the fence to watch her horse.

"Are you okay?" Allie asked.

"The only thing hurt is my pride. The old girl fooled me. Stood so
quiet I thought she was used to being ridden." He looked at Allie then
and realized she was on the verge of tears. Her hands were clasped
tightly together in front of her. Her agitation wasn't the joyous kind
Betsy's talking would bring about.