Rough Stock (10 page)

R
owan sat in
the passenger seat of Emma’s car, just staring at the Stop’N’Save’s neon sign. “He wanted to talk,” she said numbly.

Emma shrugged. “Okay, so he heard about Dad and wanted to offer his condolences. It’s the least he could do. I mean, we sent a card when Mr. Barlow died.”

Rowan shook her head. “No. He wanted to
talk
, Emma. He didn’t know about Dad. Seth hadn’t heard about it from anyone. Court wanted to talk. Can you believe that? After all this time?
He
wants to talk.
He
has something to say.”

Emma sighed. “Well, you know, Rowan, if you’re going to live here, you’re going to have to face this. You can’t put it off forever.”

Rowan’s gut clenched at her sister’s words. “I’m not ready. It’s not time. I want to wait until Dad is better.”

Emma was silent.

“What?” Rowan demanded.

Still no response.

“You think I should’ve told him?”

Emma bit her lower lip.

“
How?
” Rowan demanded. “How would I have done that?!”

“I don’t know,” Emma replied.

Rowan stared at her. “But you think I should have.”

“I said, I don’t know, Rowan! Okay? I just…I mean, maybe you should just do it now, as soon as possible. Just get out in front of this thing. Call him up, tell him you have something to say. Arrange to meet him if you don’t want to do it over the phone. Or, hell, I don’t know, hire a lawyer to tell him.”

Rowan scoffed. “Oh, come on, Emma. I can’t afford a lawyer. I can’t tell him. Not right now. It’s just not time,” she insisted. “I’m not—”

“Ready. I got it. But Rowan, I don’t think you’re ever going to
be
ready.”

Rowan didn’t want to hear any of this, any more accusations about how this was her fault. She got out of the car, slammed the door, and stalked into the Shop’N’Save, where at least they wouldn’t have to discuss it for a few minutes. She slammed items into the shopping basket, paying for them with her credit card, the balance of which was steadily rising.

Child support might have helped, but it came with strings. Very large, very long strings that would have been difficult to sever should things go to shit, which they always seemed to do where Court Barlow was concerned. She’d have to tighten the purse strings again, but she’d done it before.

Back at the house, Rowan left Emma to put away the groceries, which was a shitty thing to do, but she was still so pissed off that Emma had taken Court’s side. Part of that was Rowan’s own fault. She hadn’t wanted to burden Emma with all the painful details of their breakup all those years ago. Emma didn’t know what she was saying.
She should have told Court.
Yeah, right. Like it was just that easy.

Rowan headed upstairs, carefully edged open the door of the spare bedroom, and watched her daughter’s chest rise and fall softly as she slept. It would be hardest on Willow. Rowan could never explain, never even begin to try. How did you explain to your child that you’d made a mistake but that
she
wasn’t a mistake? How did you tell her that her daddy wasn’t lost, he just didn’t care? At least not about anyone but himself. She looked down and imagined her arm burning where Court had held her, refused to let her go. How ironic that now it was
him
chasing
her
. If Rowan had her way, Court would be chasing her for the rest of their lives, never able to catch her.

She walked to the window to pull the curtains together tightly to keep out the air. It was pitch black and freezing outside and seemed to perfectly mimic how she felt these days. The sheep were tucked away safely in the barn for the night, unaware of the predators circling them in the dark. Also exactly how Rowan felt, like the truth was closing in on her, making it difficult to breathe.

She traced her finger along the windowpane, following the pattern of frost while huddling deeper into the jacket before she remembered it wasn’t her own. Dipping her hands into the side pockets, her fingers found a pair of leather gloves. She pulled them out and inspected them in the soft glow of the nightlight beside her. They were supple and worn and had scratches all over. They were work gloves, belonging to a man who maybe never rested, judging by the hole over one of the knuckles. He certainly didn’t stop long enough to get himself a new pair. At the hospital, Rowan’s gloves were made of latex, but she worked just as hard in them.

It somehow felt comforting to have met a kindred spirit.

Seth Barlow appeared to be the only one who knew what she was going through. He was the only one who looked at her and could see that she wasn’t fine. Though he didn’t know the whole truth, it was strange to think that a man she barely knew might be the only one on her side. He wouldn’t be once he found out about Willow, though.

She stuffed the gloves back into the pocket and yanked the curtains closed, shutting the world out, for now, at least.

Rowan knew one thing for sure. Keeping secrets was a lonely business.

*

The next several
days were a blur of waking early to feed the sheep, visiting Dad in the hospital, and trying to keep Willow on a somewhat normal schedule. Rowan bent to rip open a sack of grain and groaned when she realized she was down to the last one. She’d have to put in an order for more, and she’d have to take Willow to get it, since both Emma and Troy were at work this morning and wouldn’t stop by until later.

The Feed and Seed in Star Valley was out of the question. Too many people who knew her and her family shopped there. She supposed Alpine wasn’t too far a drive. They could make it there and back before Rowan needed to be at the hospital for visiting hours. She’d planned on updating her CV and handing it in at the nurses’ desk today, but she’d have to put it off for the feed run.

She drew her cell phone out of her jacket pocket—or rather, Seth Barlow’s jacket pocket. She no longer had a barn jacket of her own, having swapped it years ago for a nylon coat. Seth’s was more durable for farm work. She still hadn’t worked out a way to get it back to him, and it seemed like a waste to hang it up inside, when she needed one out here and could put it to good use in the meantime. She’d had it for four days, though, so she should really get it back to the man.

She poured the last of the feed into the trough and set the sheep loose, with the dogs to guard them, in the pasture to chow down. Then she bundled up Willow, transferred her car seat to the backseat of Dad’s Chevy, and headed for Alpine, twenty miles away.

The feed store was a hit and a much-needed break in the daily routine, at least for Willow, anyway. There were rows upon rows of bird feeders, horse tack, and boots. To say nothing of the bins of baby chicks and ducks covered with infrared heat lamps. They only caught her eye for a moment before the rabbits stole the show. In tiny, lined hutches, their little eyes peered out and their little noses twitched. There was a steel bowl of alfalfa treats near the display. Willow reached in and plucked one cube out.

“Be careful,” Rowan warned. “They can bite.”

The little girl looked so happy that she apparently thought it was worth the risk. Rowan sighed, watching her play. So much had gone wrong in such a short time. And so much of their lives was about to change permanently. Willow had a few friends in Cheyenne, other kids who lived in their apartment complex. Thankfully, though, she hadn’t started kindergarten yet. Hopefully the transition wouldn’t be too difficult.

She loved the farm, at least, the sheep and the dogs and playing in the mud.

“They’re all so cute!” Willow squealed, peering into the cages at each one.

Rowan couldn’t argue. A bunny might be nice, she thought. Certainly cheaper than a pony, a good compromise, she supposed. Easter was next month. They should be all settled into the farmhouse by then. It seemed like great timing, under the circumstances.

“I have to get the feed,” she told Willow.

Willow’s eyes never left the rabbits on display. “Can I stay here?”

“Yeah. Don’t open the cages, though.” Rowan had had enough of chasing sheep for the last few days. Rabbits might be easier, but she still didn’t want to do it.

At the back of the store, Rowan gave her name at the counter so the clerk could call up her grain order and get it ready to put in the truck. As she was reaching for her wallet, someone spoke from behind her.

“Make sure you get your money, Edith,” said a deep-timbered voice. “This one’s a thief.”

Rowan spun and came face to face with Seth Barlow, looking just as he had in the Silver Spur a few nights ago, half-cocked smile, liquid brown eyes twinkling with amusement. He actually winked at her before he looked over her head toward the woman behind the counter. “She stole my jacket. I see she’s taken a liking to it. Guess I’m not going to get it back.”

He reached for her, or rather the lapel of his barn jacket, and Rowan’s heart leapt to her throat. For the second time in a week, she felt dangerously close to panicking. She backed away from him, like she could make herself disappear, or him. If she just shut her eyes, count to three, then open them, he’d be gone. He was just a hallucination, a specter fueled by lack of sleep.

Seth frowned. “Rowan?”

Rowan tried to see behind him, tried to spot Willow in the other part of the store.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. “Rowan, it was a joke.”

When she didn’t answer, he peered at her, looking really concerned now. “Are you all right?” He started looking around then, which pushed Rowan into a full-blown panic. “Maybe you should sit down. Edith, can we—”

Rowan pushed past him without speaking.

Seth caught her arm, though and held her gently, as though he thought she might fall. “Rowan, you—”

But Seth’s words were lost. All Rowan could hear was another voice, high pitched and lilting, excitement bubbling through. “Mama!” Willow called.

Rowan shut her eyes, which was foolish. She couldn’t stop this from happening any more than she could stop a bull from charging. “Mama, mama! The black one ate from my hand!”

Willow grabbed Rowan’s other sleeve and tugged on it. When Rowan opened her eyes, Willow was looking up at her, grinning widely, oblivious to the man standing with them, the man who looked so much like her with her deep-set eyes and brown sable hair, several shades darker than Rowan’s own.

Seth had let go of Rowan’s arm, and she started to move away. He reached for her again, but she jerked back suddenly, out of his reach. She was aware she was making a scene, making it worse, and she silently cursed herself. As she gazed about, she saw everyone in the store looking at them, eyes going from Seth to Willow and back. She could practically see them doing the mental calculations. When she turned back, she could tell Seth had already arrived at the answer.

This time she reached out and grabbed
his
arm. “Don’t say anything!”

He gaped at her. “Rowan!”

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, God, don’t say anything. Don’t tell him!”

Seth looked at her, ashen faced, as though he were seeing her for the first time. “
What the hell, Rowan?!
”

She could see in his eyes that she’d lost him. That he was no longer on her side, assuming he’d ever really been. She let go of him and stumbled away, backing into a display of camping supplies. It crashed to the floor, scattering batteries and cans of Sterno everywhere. She spun wildly, grabbed her daughter, and hoisted her up into her arms. Feed order abandoned, Rowan ran for the door.

On the highway, she compulsively checked the rearview to see if he was following her. He wasn’t, but it made the twenty miles back to the farm no less harrowing.

“Mama, who was that man?”

Rowan glanced in the rearview and gave Willow a fake smile. “Just a friend, baby. I hadn’t seen him in a long time.”

Willow wrinkled her nose. “You made a mess.”

“I sure did, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t pick it up,” Willow accused.

“I’ll apologize the next time I’m there.” Which would be soon, she realized, because she’d forgotten the damn feed order. Well, she wasn’t going to risk going back there now. She’d have to do it tomorrow.

The sun was beating down, and it melted the slush, making the drive easier and faster. Within twenty minutes, she was already home.

“Where’s the feed?” asked Troy when she pulled into the driveway.

Rowan pressed her lips together and helped Willow jump down from the cab. “I…I didn’t get it,” she told him, slamming the door.

Emma frowned. “Rowan, we have to—” But she stopped abruptly when she saw the look on Rowan’s face. “Troy, there’s still some hay in the barn. Can you toss it out?” When he was far enough away, she whispered, “
What happened?
”

It. It had happened. And it seemed too big to say out loud, at least not in front of Willow.

“Hey, baby,” said Rowan. “Why don’t you go play with the dogs for a while?”

“Okay!” she called out, waving her plastic pony by its tail as she ran.

“Come inside,” Emma ordered.

It was all Rowan could do to nod and follow her through the front door.

“Was it Court?” Emma asked after closing the door firmly behind them.