A Home in Hill Country (Harlequin Heartwarming) (10 page)

He could see Hayden’s dad leading a horse into the barn, and a couple of men over by a pen of cattle. Someone was riding a horse in the big outdoor arena. Everywhere he could see, there were neat, white pipe-fenced corrals and pastures filled with horses or cattle.

By the time they pulled to a stop in a parking lot in front of the barns, Hayden was standing there, tossing a football in the air.

Mom reached for her door handle, then hesitated. “I might just sit in here and read for a while,” she said. “Go on now—he’s waiting for you.”

Suddenly feeling shy, Cody slunk down in his seat.

Ryan came out of a nearby barn and sauntered up to his mom’s window. “Thanks for bringing your son over.”

“It’s so nice of you to invite him.”

Ryan shrugged. “It’ll be good for everyone. I just need to wrap up a few things in the office, and then I’ll be ready. The boys can hang out for a while. Knowing Hayden, he’s probably got a million things he’d like to show Cody.”

“The kittens, Mom,” Cody stage-whispered, hoping she hadn’t forgotten.

Ryan leaned down to peer through the window
at Cody. “I’m sure we have plenty of those.” To Mom he added, “Either Donna or I can bring Cody home.”

“I don’t want to be any bother. I don’t mind waiting, really.”

“Donna says she’d love to have you come over for coffee, in that case.” Ryan pointed to the road that led past the barns. “They’re just a couple miles farther.”

Cody climbed out of the truck and wandered over to Hayden. “You wanna practice while we wait for your uncle?”

Nodding, Hayden stepped back twenty paces and lobbed the ball at Cody. He caught it in a bear hug at his chest, then scrambled to send it back again. Out of the corner of his eye Cody saw his mom’s truck pull away and the ball accidentally went wild, arcing way over Hayden’s head. “Sorry.”

Hayden ran after it and sent it flying back harder than the last time, and it stung Cody’s hand so much that he dropped it on contact. “Hey!”

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Hayden turned away in disgust.
“Loser.”

They weren’t good friends at school. They were in the same classroom, though they sat across the room from each other, and there’d been a thread
of competition between them in gym and at recess since the first day they met.

Now, that whispered word bit deep as Cody watched Hayden disappear into the barn. He stood alone in the empty parking lot, then wandered down the dark, cool aisle of the barn, wondering where Hayden had gone.
The jerk.
Who wanted to be friends with someone like him, anyway—just ’cause he had a rich grandpa and lived on a fancy ranch?

At the end of the aisle he heard voices on the other side of a half-opened double door, so he kept going—then froze when he heard Hayden’s angry voice.

“I’m ’sposed to be nice to him, but I wanted to go to the horse sale with Dad today!”

A deeper male voice murmured something Cody couldn’t quite hear.

“I don’t care,” Hayden said stubbornly. “I coulda gone if Mom hadn’t made me stay home. Cody’s a creep, and anyway, I
heard
about what his grandpa did. Mom and Dad were fighting about Nate last night, and I heard.”

Feeling as if an iron fist had grabbed his stomach, Cody held his breath and eased forward until he could see around the corner. A man with the same dark hair as Ryan was leaning against the bumper of a pickup, a beer can lowered at his side and a cigarette in his other hand.

The man made a wide gesture toward Hayden with the beer. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop on your parents, kid.”

“Well, Uncle Ryan had to come home because of it. I know you don’t like that, ’cause I heard you and him argue, too,” Hayden shot back.

“You are the nosiest nephew I have,” the man growled with a hint of exasperation. “The
only
one you have,” Hayden retorted, as if it were an old joke between them. “Anyway, it isn’t fair. I heard Dad say Nate was Cody’s grandpa, and that it was all Nate’s fault that a
lot
of money disappeared. He stole it when he worked here, then he died, and no one ever found it. How come no one ever told
me?
Is that why Dad won’t buy me a new four-wheeler?”

Cody felt himself go cold, then hot.

Grandpa Nate?

He took a step farther back into the shadows, humiliated. Every time the Gallaghers looked at him, were they thinking about what his grandpa did? Maybe even watching to see if Cody was a thief, too?

He spun on his heel and dashed down the aisle, ignoring the squeal of the door behind him and the call of his name.

Outside, he squinted in the bright sunshine as he scanned for any sign of his mother’s truck. Then he started running down the road toward the
highway. It had to be miles and miles away, but there was no way he wanted to stay here now—not with humiliation burning in his stomach and the sound of Hayden’s scornful voice still ringing in his ears. Had he told kids at school already?

At the top of the first hill he stopped to catch his breath. Glancing behind him, he could see Hayden and his uncle standing in front of the barn, looking around—probably calling his name—though it was too far away to hear them.

He shaded his eyes as he studied the rolling hills to the east, considering the possibility of cutting across country to find his way home.
Not likely.
Heaving a sigh, he started toward the highway.

Sooner or later Mom would come by.

He wouldn’t tell her about the lies he’d heard. She’d be upset—and what could she do about it anyway, since Grandpa was dead?

He would think up a story about why he’d started for home, and then make sure he never talked to Hayden or came to the Four Aces again.

A
T THE SIGHT
of a forlorn figure trudging along the side of the road, Kristin breathed a sigh of pure relief. She dialed the Four Aces number on her cell phone and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel of her truck until an unfamiliar male voice answered.

“Garrett here.”

“This is Kristin. Tell Ryan I found Cody walking home. I’ll have a talk with him about not running off like this, I promise you.”

“Uh…good. That’s good.” He ended the connection abruptly, leaving her to wonder at the odd note in his voice.

The Gallaghers were all probably thinking Cody was impulsive and undisciplined, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was seeing her son ahead. If he’d tried to cut across the pastures… She shuddered, imagining rattlers and scorpions, and envisioning him lost through the heat of the day.
And it’s my fault,
she said to herself as she pulled to a stop.
He didn’t want to come over here, and I made him anyway.

She rolled down the window on the passenger’s side and leaned across the seat. “Hey, buddy—need a lift?”

He stopped walking, but he kept his eyes forward, his hands clenched tight at his sides. She could see dusty tracks down his cheeks where he’d been crying, and without a ball cap to shade his face, his nose was already turning pink.

Without a word, he climbed into the truck and fastened his seat belt.

“Kind of a warm day for a hike, isn’t it?” She checked the odometer. “You walked a whole mile and a half, honey.”

He made some sort of unintelligible sound in response.

“You know that the Gallaghers have been looking for you? They’ve been searching all of their barns and corrals in case you went hunting for those kittens. When Ryan called me a few minutes ago, he was worried about you.” She considered how much she should say. “It was very nice of them to ask you to come over, and it was wrong of you to just take off like that.”

He stared out the side window as if he didn’t even hear her.

“If you don’t think this is a problem, maybe we’ll need to look at grounding you for a while.” When he still didn’t respond, she added, “And that
would include riding and television. I’m sorry, but—”

The cell phone on the seat jingled, and she grabbed it on the second ring.

“Kristin? This is Ryan. Garrett tells me you found Cody.”

“On his way home. Without a word to any of you. I’m really sorry.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and then Ryan cleared his throat. “I’ve been talking to Garrett. I need to talk to you privately. Can I stop by your place in a half hour or so?”

A lecture, perhaps, on her lack of parenting skills? A tactful discussion regarding the end of any further visits to the Four Aces? “Sure. Why not.”

There’d been a time when her world had revolved around Ryan Gallagher, but what he thought about her didn’t really matter. Not anymore.

The sooner they got this little discussion over, the better.

K
RISTIN SENT
C
ODY
on up to his room until lunch, then settled in at her newspaper-covered dining-room table with her shoe box of acrylic paints.

She’d just opened up the midnight blue when she heard heavy footsteps on the porch steps and a familiar voice calling her name.

“Come on in,” she said, selecting a brush from the assortment soaking in a Mason jar of water. She dried it against a paper towel and dipped it in the paint, then began touching up the shadows on the bluebonnets she’d painted around the edge of a weathered board.

Maybe Ryan had some things to say, but she didn’t need to give him her full attention.

He walked through the living room to join her at the table. “Nice,” he said, as he studied the sign. “I’d forgotten this place was called Cedar Grove Farm. I don’t think there’s been a sign up for years.”

“There is one—but it’s old and faded, and hidden by some scrub cedars.” She touched up another flower, then held the brush aloft. “But I’m sure you didn’t come over to check out my beginner artwork.”

He frowned, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “It’s about Cody…we need to talk.”

Sighing inwardly, she dropped her brush into the water glass with the others, and capped her jar of paint. “And?”

“I thought it strange that Cody took off like he did, because I knew he’d been looking forward to some extra football practice.” Ryan cleared his throat. “I feel much of this is my fault, really. If I hadn’t had those phone calls to make before noon…”

This wasn’t what she’d expected at all, and a sixth sense sent a chill across her skin. She glanced toward the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, where Cody might still be able to overhear, then nodded toward the kitchen. “Maybe we should go in there to talk.”

She bustled over to the coffeemaker and started a pot brewing, while Ryan stood looking out the windows by the kitchen table, his thumbs hooked in his back pockets.

He’d changed so much.

Not just the limp when he walked, or the way he favored that damaged shoulder. Even when he was simply conversing, there was a weariness in his eyes that didn’t fade. But now…he seemed to carry the weight of the world.

She spilled some store cookies onto a plate and set them on the table, retrieved two mugs from the cupboard and poured the coffee. “Please, have a seat.”

He tipped his head in acknowledgment, but simply stood behind a chair with his hands resting on the back. “I had a long talk with Garrett, and I’m not exactly sure where to start.”

“Sit. Eat a cookie.” She managed a smile, even though her stomach was tied in knots. “You’ll feel better.”

“Trevor took off for a horse sale this morning. Donna had already made plans for Cody to
come over, so she wouldn’t let Hayden go. He was upset, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior.” Ryan snorted with disgust. “He walked off after Cody arrived. He found his Uncle Garrett and said things he shouldn’t have—things that Cody must have overheard, because Garrett saw the boy run out of the barn.”

“Kids can be cruel sometimes. Maybe the boys can just talk it over.”

“It’s not that simple.” Ryan splayed his fingers on the back of the chair, then pulled it out and sat down to face her across the table. “Hayden told Garrett he’d overheard his mom and dad arguing about Cody’s grandfather. Hayden would’ve been just seven when Nate worked at the ranch, so I’m sure he hadn’t realized until now that Cody and Nate were related.”

“Dad worked for Clint off and on, through the years. They had some business deals together, too, but I think all of them went south.” She shook her head. “Even at his funeral, I heard whispers about my dad being ‘in Clint’s pocket,’ but I’ll never believe that he would do anything underhanded.” She blushed as she realized what she’d just said to Clint’s own son. “Er…sorry.”

“Isn’t anything I haven’t heard before.” Ryan shrugged. “Oscar, our foreman, took off, leaving the financial records in a mess. Leland tried to sort it out before your dad was hired. Nate stayed
on just a few months until he quit…or was fired.” Ryan cradled his cup in both hands and studied the steaming liquid. “I’m not sure who said the words first, but Adelfa says they had quite an argument.”

“So Hayden talked about Nate being fired?” That could hurt, she knew. Though Cody and his grandfather had never been close, it could still feel like a personal attack to hear those words about your own flesh and blood. “That’s not so bad, really.”

Ryan’s eyes met hers. “After your father left this ranch, Leland brought in a forensic accountant to try to figure out the books. Records were missing or altered, but the guy figured your father embezzled at least sixty grand in four short months. Cody overheard that.”

Kristin’s heart faltered. “That’s…that’s impossible. My father was an honest man, and he had nothing. Almost
nothing
in his bank accounts when he died, and he drove a beat-up old truck. Even if he thought about it, he’d have known that Clint and Leland would keep a close eye on things.”

“Or…he might have figured that with the state the financial records were in, it would be much easier to filter more away. The losses might still appear to be Oscar’s errors coming to light.”

Her anger flared. “So you think my father was
guilty. Where’s your proof? Where are the police reports—the investigations?” She stood abruptly and braced herself against the table. “Why didn’t I ever hear a thing about this? Or was it hushed up because your own father has a few things that ought not be revealed?”

Ryan lifted his hands in a placating motion. “Please—sit down, okay?”

She pushed away from the table and stalked across the room, then pivoted and came back to the table, her arms crossed. “Where is all that money, then? My father died just a few weeks after he left the Four Aces. He barely had enough money to cover his funeral.”

“Clint hired a private investigator, as well as the forensic accountant.” Ryan’s tone was regretful. “The P.I. discovered a bank account in another small town, set up for an agricultural spraying business that doesn’t exist. The deposits were always under ten grand…and cash withdrawals were made several thousand at a time. There may have been other accounts he hasn’t been able to trace yet.”

“You’re wrong about my dad, and I’m going to prove it.” Kristin glared at him, even though her heart was breaking. “Furthermore, I don’t believe his death was an accident. With everything I’ve just heard, I’m even more sure. Now you tell me—who would want my father dead?”

R
UNNING A HAND
over his face to check for stubble, Clint scowled at his dim image in the mirror. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He’d worked hard all his life. He’d done right by his family. His constituents. He sat in his own pew at church every Sunday when he was in town.

He deserved better than bad eyes and a family that had fallen apart.

Right now Garrett was probably sleeping off another drunken night at the Saddle Up…unless he’d crashed at Trip Dooley’s sleazy Rise and Shine Motel on the edge of town.

The thought of his young son drinking himself into oblivion made his stomach roil. The thought of him riding bulls was even worse.

Ryan had defied Clint almost from birth, had a way of staring Clint down as if he was dissecting every last flaw. Trevor was solid—a hard worker—but without imagination or brains.

But Garrett…

His favorite son. Garrett had inherited Clint’s ambition and drive, his mother’s charm. He’d chosen to throw away every golden opportunity rather than give up his obsession with rodeo, but one of these days he’d wake up and realize just how much time he was wasting. And then there’d be no stopping him.
If the right person was still there to guide him.

Which was why Clint had finally agreed to his doctor’s appointment today.

He dressed quickly, knotting his dark tie by feel rather than sight, assured of a good match by the fact that he wore only navy and black, and had long since ordered Adelfa to throw away any socks and ties that didn’t coordinate.

The Homestead clinic nurse had been calling daily, leaving messages for him to come back about his lab work and EKG. He’d finally capitulated yesterday, agreeing to come in on Wednesday when the
real
doctor was there.

It was all a lot of waste, anyway, throwing money on doctoring something that was perfectly fine. His heart felt strong. Healthy. He wasn’t a weakling like Enfield, who looked as if he had his hair styled and nails buffed—a man who was all hat and no cattle, far as Clint could see.

Pocketing his billfold, he slipped into his Italian loafers, ran his hands over his short cropped hair and went out to the kitchen where Adelfa would be waiting to hand him a cup of dark roast coffee on his way to Trevor’s truck.

A familiar voice in the kitchen stopped him dead in his tracks before he walked in.

Clint Gallagher bowed to no one, but now he felt his pulse grow unsteady and he had to force himself to move forward.

Adelfa stood by the stove, her round face
wreathed in smiles. A tall, elegant figure stood facing her, one hand propped carelessly on the counter. Well-cut linen slacks molded to the woman’s long, slender legs. A sweater—something in one of those nubbly, natural weaves—skimmed her graceful back.

“Ah, here he is,” Adelfa beamed at him as if she’d just come across a great prize. “Look who is here—Señora Gallagher!”

As Lydia turned, he was struck—as always—by the loveliness of her sculpted cheekbones. The elegant flare of her eyebrows. The quiet beauty of her large, expressive eyes. She was—and always would be—the most beautiful thing in his life, despite the divorce.

She was also the one person in the world who could argue him to the ground with an amused and patient look in her eyes that made him angry enough to spit nails.

She gave him a leisurely head-to-toe assessment. “Nothing’s changed here, I see. You’re looking well.”

“I wasn’t expecting a visit.”

“Ever the gracious host.” Her musical laugh filled the room. “I believe you’re supposed to say, ‘And you’re looking good, as well,’ or some such pleasantry.”

Adelfa, apparently sensing trouble, nodded to both of them and sidled out of the kitchen.

He knew his social graces—he hadn’t risen to prominence in state politics by sounding like the backwoods kid he’d once been. But with Lydia, it was generally best to cut to the chase. “Why are you here?”

“Don’t worry, dear. I want nothing from you. If you recall, I didn’t even ask for much of anything in our divorce.” She wandered over to the windows facing the sweep of lawn and beyond that, the stables. “I drove in from Dallas this morning because Ryan is here. I doubt I’ll be much of a nuisance if I stay a few days.”

A few days.

A few days of turmoil. Subtle insults traded over supper. Glances filled with hostility. Tension that had him popping antacids and Tylenol.

“That would be fine. Adelfa can prepare the guest room.” He ground the words out. “I suppose now that Ryan is in Texas, it’s convenient for you to see him?”

He caught a flash of hurt in her eyes, but then she lifted her chin and leveled a haughty stare at him. “I wasn’t able to go to Walter Reed to see him, if that’s what you mean. But I called him every day. Did you go? No, wait—you were too busy.”