Counting on Love (Contemporary Cowboy Romance) (Carson Hill Ranch series: Book 3) (2 page)

Carey looked away, ashamed. “I don’t know, Dad. That seems to make sense but then I know I tried to haul him downstairs so he could face the music for having us woken up last night, and you’d have thought I ran him through with a pitch fork. It was bad. He screamed, and I’ve heard grown men scream in pain before. That was real.”

The fight seemed to go out of Bernard at Carey’s words. “I want to believe him, son, and I want to get him help. But I just don’t know how much of this is from a six-month-old injury, and how much of it’s just him being scared to get too far away from a bottle, whether it’s a pill bottle or a bottle of booze.

“I will say this much, he’s not to leave this ranch again. We have some serious figuring out to do, but I’m not having one of my sons turn into the town drunk. And if any of the workers on the ranch are giving him rides into town so he can bury his face in a beer glass, that man’ll be out of work before the end of the day. I mean it!” Bernard bellowed for the benefit of the few employees who were moving through the house.

Carey put his arm around his dad’s shoulders and led him back to his office as the kitchen door swung open and several of the ranch hands came through, followed by Amanda with a tray for Joseph. She shot Carey a look, then look pointedly at Bernard, almost as though she was asking permission to take it upstairs. Carey nodded, then pressed his father forward.

Later that afternoon, Amanda returned to the kitchen from retrieving Joseph’s tray. Without a word, she walked past Emily and stood in front of her, gesturing to the head cook to take the lid off the plate. Beneath the fitted cover, Joseph’s food had gone untouched. They exchanged a worried look.

“Emily, you have to say something to Mr. Carson,” Amanda began. “As far as I can count, Joseph hasn’t eaten anything in at least four days. You have to speak up.”

“I’ll do no such thing! I have a kitchen to run and a staff to supervise…”

“So that’s it? You’re not going to say something just because you’re afraid of pissing off the boss? And we just let Joseph kill himself while you say nothing?” Amanda said accusingly. Emily faltered for a moment, then steeled her expression again.

“If you’re so worried, Miss High and Mighty, why don’t you go say something to the old man? Huh? Afraid of ‘pissing off the boss,’ are we?” Emily sneered, turning Amanda’s own words against her.

“You know he’d listen to you better than any of the rest of us. You’ve been here for ages. You stayed by his wife’s side when…well, that’s not important,” she muttered, looking down and shaking her head sadly. “The rest of us barely know him, but you speak to him almost daily about the household and the budget and stuff like that. He can’t do without you, and he knows it! Sure, he might be mad at you for a little while for telling him what to do with his own son, but he can’t get mad enough at you to fire you. Please, Emily!”

Emily looked at Amanda’s worried expression, and looked around at the faces of the other members of the kitchen and household staffs. She shrugged, and silently shook her head.

“Emily, it’s not just about you being the one to tell him. You’re worried, too. I know you are. You raised all six of those boys, filling in for their mama when she left them. What do you think
she
would want you to do right now? Her son is hurting and he needs help! Now help him! Make his dad see reason!” Amanda urged tearfully.

The older woman wiped at her eyes with the edge of her work apron, then choked back a sob before putting her hand on Amanda’s arm. After giving her a tight hug, Emily nodded and went back to her work. Before turning away, she said, “I’ll find a way to speak to him tomorrow. I just have to figure out what to say to him.”

Casey and Miranda rode side by side, watching the herd carefully as they moved the cattle along toward a field about two miles away. Several other hands rode in a spaced apart formation, keeping an eye out for coyotes and wild dogs that might give chase.

“I know you have something to say,” Casey teased with his famous comfortable grin, looking straight ahead but stealing glances at Miranda’s expression. “so you might as well say it.”

Miranda shot him a playful look. “Oh, really? Married less than a year and you already think you can read me like a book?”

“Well, am I wrong?” he replied, flicking a large biting fly off his horse’s neck with the end of his reins.

“No, but that’s not the point. Now I’m not going to ask you just because I don’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking you have me figured out. I have to keep some of my ‘mystery’ about me.”

Casey leaned over his saddle dangerously close to sideways, grabbed Miranda’s elbow, and pulled her closer for a quick kiss on her neck. “I do have you figured out. I know that’s your favorite place to be kissed, for starters.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” she laughed. “It’s not even in the top three of my favorite places to be kissed.” She raised her eyebrows, hinting that there were far better places he could kiss her. Casey flushed for a second and laughed.

“Okay, then, favorite places to be kissed when there are other people around,” he whispered, before kissing her once more.

“If you two are done acting like teenagers, there’s a cow lagging behind,” Drew called out as he rode past them on his way to the front of the herd.

“I have this one,” Miranda called, steering her ride back the way they came.

“Are you sure?” Casey asked, concern in his voice. Miranda had only been riding for a short time, and he worried that her city girl roots might not have prepared her for making split-second decisions out here on the ranch.

“Sure. You just keep watching those cows and thinking about kissing me some more,” she said quietly, winking at him as she trotted back toward the spot where a cow stood lazily eating some grass. Casey watched her with pride swelling in his chest at the way she effortlessly nudged the cow with her boot, riding in circles around it until it went in the direction she wanted it to go.

Only a short time ago, she had stepped off the bus from New Jersey and had been a giant pain in his ass. It wasn’t her fault, he knew that, but she hadn’t been invited here, at least not by him. Now, even Casey had to swallow his pride and show some gratitude that his father had interfered. Miranda was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time.

When she caught up to him some time later, she looked over smugly and announced, “Piece of cake. It’s amazing that more people aren’t lined up to do this.”

“Oh, really? You call this easy? Good. I’ll be sure to wake you up next time there’s a calf to be birthed. Better yet, you can spend the night in the barn helping the mama through it,” he scoffed, waiting for the look of horror to cross her face. It never happened.

“I’ll have you know, I was in the delivery room when my sister was born. My dad had already shipped out, and my mom needed someone there. I was her coach.”

“Really? That’s kind of sweet,” Casey answered, a new layer of respect for his wife piling on top of the things he already admired about her. “Then reaching in there up to your shoulder and pulling a calf should be no problem for you,” he continued, trying once again to bait her.

“Bring it, cowboy,” she answered with a knowing smirk, aware of the game her husband was playing. He and his brothers had enjoyed trying every trick they could think of to test the limits of her love for ranch life. Everything from eating ants to bathing in the creek during an overnight trip, Miranda had done it all with a smile.

Partly, it was because of her love for Casey, but it was also out of sheer joy that she took so readily to life out here in the middle of nowhere. If a sprawling two-story home on 800,000 acres surrounded by forty people on any given day could be considered nowhere. For the first time since she could remember, Miranda felt carefree. Sure, the work was demanding and the circumstances were unlike anything she’d ever experienced growing up in the city, but it was all worthwhile.

And, of course, Casey was by her side for all of it.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Miranda began as she rode alongside Casey again, remembering her question from earlier. “I’m worried about Gracie.”

“What about her?” Casey asked immediately, turning his head sharply to look at Miranda. She smiled reassuringly, laughing to herself at Casey’s instant big brother mode kicking in.

Gracie had been Miranda’s only fear when she answered the emailed request on the online dating site. Since their mother had passed away, there wasn’t a single decision that didn’t also impact Gracie. Dragging her out here when Miranda finally decided to come to Texas had been her only apprehension, and it was worrying her still.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing serious!” Miranda promised him. “Well, I mean, it’s not serious to you or me. It’s deadly serious to a young teenage girl. Gracie’s worried about doing normal teenaged things, like hanging out at the mall or talking to girlfriends from school. I told her I would talk to you…”

“Well, I never talked to girlfriends from school…Dad was really strict about that,” Casey said in his casual, joking way, glossing over the fact that he was homeschooled on the ranch like the handful of other kids who’d been raised out there.

“Come on, honey, I’m being serious. She’s really worried about things like parties and dating and prom,” Miranda chided softly. He looked over at her and his expression melted from playful to concerned, just like hers.

“Wow, I guess us guys were spared from all that kind of stuff. Between having five other brothers and an endless clown car of guys to hang out with before, during, and after the work day, I never had to think of it like she does. What do you think we should do it?”

Miranda sighed. “I don’t know, I guess I was hoping you had the answers since you grew up out here. We’ll figure something out.”

“Of course we will!” Casey exclaimed. “We’ll all think about it. I guess we never had to worry about a girl growing up on the ranch…” His breath caught and his face clouded over. Miranda cast him a sideways glance, wary of the way he might react to his own words. She knew all too well that he was remembering his mother, and how she’d died giving birth to the only sister in the Carson family, a baby girl who died shortly before their mother. Miranda reached over and touched Casey’s elbow, smiling supportively when he looked her way. “Sorry about that, it just came out wrong.”

Miranda nodded, and spurred her horse forward lightly as though she could leave that painful conversation behind them. They rode farther out over the next couple of hours, letting the cattle graze at different points along the way, stopping to let both the horses and the cows get a drink at the wide creek that snaked through the property. Miranda and Casey took advantage of the rest times to simply appreciate being together in this place, at this time. All of their other struggles and concerns would be waiting for them when they came back but for now, this was where they were and they were spending it together.

“How ya holding up, sweetie?” Jennie asked Emma as they worked in the kitchen between the lunch crowd and the busy dinner time rush. She had been watching Emma closely for the past week, afraid for the girl now that she’d lost her best friend and her fellow survivor. Even more worrisome than the way Emma put on a sad attempt at a cheerful front was the way her hands were shaking now as she scrubbed at a saucepan.

“I’m great, why?” Emma called back, her cheerful voice almost overflowing with saccharine sweetness.

“Because you’ve just about scrubbed a hole through that pot, that’s why! You’re a hard worker, but you’re going to town on the same pan. You’re supposed to switch it up, you know, maybe try a different pan once in a while? We have plenty of ‘em.” Jennie’s scolding words were so playful, Emma had to laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m just thinking. I haven’t heard from Dee in three days, that’s all,” she answered, rinsing the first pot and reaching for another, taking out her frustrations on that one’s unsuspecting interior.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Emma. Didn’t she go back home? I’m sure they’re so glad to have her back, they haven’t let her stop for a second to call you up.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” Emma answered weakly, only this was another act, too, meant to keep others from seeing the problem too closely. Dee had confided in Emma once before that her family situation was far from ideal. After all, it’s what had led Dee to run away in the first place, straight into the grabby hands of Crazy Mack, drugs, and worse. She had promised Emma that she was going to her grandparents’ home, though, instead of her mom’s, and hopefully, that would make all the difference.

If only she would call me,
Emma thought sadly, reaching for another pot before Jennie could notice there was a problem.

She finished the dishes and went out front to see what else she could do. Emma had learned after the endless weeks of drying out in the Carson’s empty cabin that nothing would be the death of her more than not keeping busy. Staying focused on something, even something as mindless as refilling salt shakers or sweeping the floor, kept her from having enough time to think about meth. When it was quiet and she sat around, it was all she could think about.

“Well, well, if it isn’t little Emma,” a thick voice called out as she walked past. “I’ve missed you, baby. I’ve missed you a lot.” Emma’s stomach rolled over when she turned and saw the stubbly face of a former regular in Crazy Mack’s bar, one of the many who Mack had paraded through her and Dee’s rooms above the bar. She tasted vomit, wondering why, after all these months, anyone who had frequented Mack’s kind of establishment would come into the bar now that Tommy and Jennie had revamped it into a family-friendly place.

The disgusting man shot an arm out and slapped Emma firmly on the rear, laughing at the look of shock on her face. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already, now that you’ve gone and found yourself some class.” He licked his lips as he eyed her chest. Emma froze, her breaths coming faster and faster as panic gripped her.

The man stepped forward at her silent response, trailing his grimy fingers through the ends of her ponytail, down her neck, and across her breasts, making her whimper in fear, shaming herself at the involuntary sound. When he finally had the nerve to reach a hand between her legs and press roughly against her jeans, Emma threw a hand over her mouth to stifle a loud cry.

She jumped back and let loose a scream when the man’s eyes rolled back in his head, watching in confusion as he fell to the floor. Jennie stood behind him, still wielding Tommy’s baseball bat from behind the bar. She let it drop to her side but didn’t release her grip on it as she grabbed Emma in a hug.

“You’re okay, it’s over,” she repeated in a soothing voice as Emma broke from the strain. Tears coursed down the girl’s cheeks as fear, self-loathing, and humiliation fought to rule over her.

“I’m so sorry, Jennie. Please, don’t kick me out. I won’t let that happen again,” she promised hysterically. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, please don’t kick me out.”

“Emma! We would never kick you out! And this wasn’t your fault,” Jennie admonished her, horrified that the girl could even think this way. “This was
his
fault. He did this, not you!”

“But…I know him…I mean, from before…you know,” Emma stammered between sobs.

“That part of your life is finished. You’re a changed young woman. You do not have to keep paying for the mistakes you’ve already fixed, silly girl.” Jennie rocked Emma gently as she patted her back, hoping to soothe away the nightmarish hurts but knowing her words alone would never be enough.

“I’m just so sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You didn’t embarrass me! He’s the dumb ass around here, not you! Look at him! He’s laying there in the floor like we don’t have a dinner crowd to get ready for!”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh through her tears. “What are we gonna do with him?”

“Well, Sheriff McDade is gonna haul him off when I call her.
If
he comes to, he’ll find himself nursing that lump on his head in a jail cell for sexual assault.” Emma’s eyes went wide with terror as she began to shake her head. “Missy, don’t you shake your head at me. The only way people are gonna get it through their thick skulls that this is a different kind of establishment and you are a different kind of young woman is if someone has to own up for the way you’ve been treated.” She held Emma’s chin in her hand and gently lifted the girl’s face until her eyes met Jennie’s, then continued firmly. “You did nothing wrong. I don’t care who you used to be, I know the girl you are now. And I walked into my dining room here and saw a patron grope you against your wishes. He’s goin’ to jail, and that’s final.”

“But no one’s ever gonna believe me,” Emma whispered, a single tear forming at the corner of her eye now that she had cried herself hoarse.

“I believe you, and the sheriff has to believe me. I know what I saw. I saw a young lady who’s making something of herself get attacked right here in front of me. Emma, look at me.” Jennie cupped Emma’s chin gently and turned her face to look into the girl’s big brown eyes. “I saw the fear on your face just now. You are a different person, and you didn’t want that man anywhere near you.
That
is all anyone needs to know.” She hugged Emma close one last time then turned around to call the sheriff, giving the man a solid kick to the ribs with her white Keds as she passed him. The move only succeeded in making him moan quietly. Jennie looked at him with disgust before spitting on him, saying, “Shoot. He’s not dead after all.”

Emma sat rigidly in her chair, staring at the unmoving lump of disgusting flesh in the floor. She turned away, already memories of his sweaty body pressing on top of hers attacking her mind. She jumped up from her chair guiltily when the sheriff burst through the door of the bar, a deputy in tow.

As the new sheriff took her statement, the deputy bent to the floor to try to rouse the man, Jennie sneering down at him as Emma and Amy spoke. When he was finally able to roll over and sit up dizzily, the sheriff put down her notebook long enough to twist each of his arms behind his back and handcuff him as he yelled in protest.

Jennie came and put an arm around Emma’s shoulders as they began to lift the man to his feet, half-carrying, half-dragging him toward the door, but not before the deputy looked Emma up and down and gave her a hungry leer. Jennie jumped forward menacingly, shouting at him.

“What are you lookin’ at?” she screamed at him, causing Amy to turn around in alarm. “You wanna wear my baseball bat across the back of your head, too? ‘Cause I have plenty of power left in my swing today, Mister! You look at this girl like that one more time, and I’ll hit you in your
other
head with it, d’you understand me?”

Amy put an arm protectively across the deputy’s chest, blocking Jennie’s path. “Now, hold on, you can’t go threatening a law enforcement officer, Jennie.”

“And he can’t go looking at this sexual assault victim like he’d get in line to jump her! Is that how you run your department, Sheriff? I’d have thought better of you than that.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and made an indelicate, angry huffing noise. Emma stood mute, her eyes at the floor.

“I will certainly look into this and I will have a word with my deputy,” Amy promised, eyeing the younger man suspiciously. “But you keep your head about you, got it? I don’t wanna go dragging you across the street to the jail, too…I only have the one pair of handcuffs!” she said with a laugh. Jennie nodded curtly, then watched them go.

“Jennie,” Emma began in a quiet sort of voice. “you can’t go hitting everyone who looks at me funny. Because you’re gonna wear yourself out and then end up in jail. People here know about me. They know what I did. And they’re not about to let me forget it.”

“Well, when enough of them get amnesia from my Louisville Slugger, the rest of them will forget soon enough all on their own,” Jennie growled.

“You can’t hit them all. It’s just not possible. But I appreciate it,” she answered. “No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”

“It’s high time someone did, Emma. And until you find somebody to go through this with you, I’ll be right here…practicing my swing.” Jennie hugged her close then turned and walked back to the kitchen, leaving Emma to stare after her in silence.