Elusive Echoes (38 page)

When Joe stepped into the living room, Sean
almost got up and left. But no one accompanied the other man, so he
stayed put. Apparently, they hadn't decided on an intervention
after all.

"Got some interesting news here from Ben
Jamison." Joe set a thick folder on the arm of Sean's chair. "About
Mel's baby."

Sean looked at the folder like it had just
grown fangs and a rattle. "That has nothing to do with me."

"Doesn't it?"

Sean glared up at Joe and laughed. "Breaking
news, buddy. Sean and Mel are over."

Joe sent him a long, hard look.

"Okay, guess not. Well, information's there.
Up to you what you do with it, though I'd appreciate it if you'd
find some way to pass it on to Mel."

Joe slipped from the room while Sean was
trying to think of a snappy comeback.

"Yeah, that's right. Run away," he muttered
under his breath instead.

Sean tossed back the shot and picked up the
folder. He tapped it against his other hand. The fire was low.
Perfect. He pulled the screen and started to lay the folder on the
bed of embers. At the last minute, he pulled his hand away, cursing
his weakness. He'd never be able to obliterate her from his life
the way he needed to.

"Fine, I'll find a way to get it to Mel," he
mumbled to the empty room. The warmth of the fire and the whiskey
he'd already consumed made him drowsy. He stroked a thumb across
the edge of the folder.

Hours later he awoke with the folder
clutched against his chest. The fire had mostly gone out, leaving
him cold and stiff from sitting nearly all night in the chair. He
closed his eyes hard and rolled his head to work at the kinks in
his neck. But with his eyes closed, his father's face floated at
the front of his memory and he opened them quickly. Too quickly.
Pain stabbed behind his eyeballs.

Closer to hung over now than drunk, he
stared down at the folder he gripped. Calling himself all kinds of
fool, he opened it and pulled out a handful of newspaper clippings.
As he read them by the soft lamplight, he knew they would give Mel
peace. She needed to see them.

But he wasn't going to deliver them. He'd
send them in with Sandy.

****

"No." Sandy deftly taped Bethany's diaper
then picked up the baby. She gave her a kiss and a cuddle before
sitting her in the infant seat. "Joe gave it to you to deliver.
This isn't some game of post office where you pass it to the first
person willing to do your job."

"Fine. Where's Ry?"

"Ryan isn't going to do it, either."

"You speaking for him now?"

"Not at all." Ryan's voice came from behind
Sean. "Sandy was there when I told Joe I wouldn't do it last
night."

"Then I'll give it back to Joe and he can
deliver it himself."

Ryan snickered. "He probably would have, but
he's on Life Flight duty for the next three nights. Get over your
issues and deliver it." He shrugged. "Or don't."

Sean's exhaustion caught up with him and he
slumped. "Ryan, do you know what's in here?"

Ryan shook his head. "Nope. Wasn't addressed
to me."

"Joe's investigator found what happened to
the baby. She didn't just go to some landfill." Sean shook his
head. "Don't you think Mel should know?"

"Yeah," Ryan said on a matter-of-fact shrug.
"I do." He picked up the infant seat and followed Sandy from the
room.

Alone, Sean ran a hand through hair that was
in desperate need of a barber. Catching a whiff of himself, he made
a face and tried to recall the last time he'd hit the shower. Since
the memory was so dim, he decided that might be the appropriate
place to start his day.

On his way to the shower, Sean dropped Mel's
folder on the foot of his bed. He frowned, struggling to remember
the last time he'd slept there. He came to the conclusion that it
was probably the last time his brother had put him to bed drunk,
more than a week gone. They'd all apparently gotten tired of
nursing his sorry behind after that.

The hot water coursed over his tired and
aching body, washing away the stench along with much of the
anesthetic he'd coated his emotions with since leaving Mel. He
toweled himself dry and pulled on clean clothes, frowning when he
had to tighten his belt by a full notch.

Along with the release of emotions from
Sean's cocoon of numbness crept a deep sense of regret. His old man
hadn't deserved the way Sean had lashed out last night. Shame
heated his face as he recalled some of his hurtful words. He needed
to find his dad. That part turned out to be dismayingly easy. Sean
would have preferred a couple of extra moments of looking for his
father. Justin sat behind the ancient desk that had served as the
centerpiece of Cross MC ranch business for probably more than a
hundred years. He perused a blue ledger, every once in awhile
turning to enter something into the computer.

"I didn't know you knew how
to use the computer," Sean blurted.
Nice.
Great way to open, slick
. That even sounded
lame to
his
hung-over ears.

Justin drew a deep breath, glanced up and
subjected Sean to a long, silent stare. Then he shrugged and looked
back at the ledger. "Lotta things you don't know."

No, of course the old man couldn't possibly
make this at all easy. "I . . . was . . . out of line last
night."

His father snickered without lifting his
eyes from the book in front of him. "Only last night?" He entered
something else into the computer.

Sean grimaced, felt his teeth set,
concentrated on relaxing out of the irritation. "Yeah, a lot of
nights, actually, but can we talk about last night first?" He
sighed. "What I said . . . about you drinking, when Mom—died. That
was—" Oh, man, where was the strength he'd always had to make
things right?

About to drive out of your
life forever, jerkface
.

His father held his silence.

"I'm sorry, Dad. That's not—how I feel. It's
never been how I felt."

Justin picked up a pen and made a note in
the ledger before he raised his head. He rubbed his jaw. "Your
mother was stolen away from all of us. She was there one minute and
not there the next." He sighed heavily. "A lot of men might have
found themselves in a place where they wanted another woman around
the house. Someone to help with running the place, and with raising
his children, maybe even having more children." He smiled at Sean,
and his eyes warmed. "That wasn't me. I couldn't even stand the
thought of hiring a woman to keep house and cook. Might be I . . .
shortchanged you and your brother somewhere in all that, not having
a woman to balance my influence in your life."

"No, Dad. Ryan and I never felt like that.
What I said last night—it was me being a mean drunk." Unable to
meet his father's eyes, Sean dropped his gaze and mentally traced
the jagged lines on the Southwestern patterned rug.

"Now, that last statement I'll agree with."
Justin chuckled. "But I think you're missing my point. Your mother
was all I ever wanted. If I could have wished her back, I would
have. But I wasn't in the market to replace her. Since you and
Melanie were kids, you haven't looked seriously at another female
unless she had four legs and wore a saddle. I couldn't get your mom
back, not for me, not for you and your brother."

Justin stopped talking. After a long moment,
Sean glanced up and found himself under his dad's steady
regard.

Right. The moral of the story being the ball
was in Sean's court.

"You don't have much time to make a
decision," said Justin, setting his pen down on the blotter. "You
let the opportunity pass, you could spend the next seven years
looking for her like your brother did Sandy." He angled his head.
"Or never see her again."

"I have to get Dev ready to go with the
Racing Commission."

Justin raised a friendly hand and went back
to has task.

Right, good cop-out, Sean. Stellar.

Picking up the folder with Mel's name
scribbled across the front, Sean stepped outside. The November
chill bit at the exposed skin of his neck and Sean raised his
collar. It had snowed again overnight, leaving the landscape
crystal white beneath the dull gray sky.

A tan pickup towing a small horse trailer
made its way along the driveway toward the stable. Sean dumped
Mel's folder on the seat of his own pickup then crossed the yard to
the barn where Dev was housed. The charred skeleton of the stables
mocked him as he passed.

Dev wasn't at all interested in cooperating.
Ears back, feet slashing, he squealed and shrieked at anyone who
came near, especially the elderly veterinarian, who had been hired
to haul the horse and the vet technician accompanying him. The
assistant made the mistake of showing outright fear. He probably
had no business working with animals larger than lab rats.

Mel hadn't had any problem with the horse.
She'd clucked and shushed him until he was nearly eating out of her
hand. Sean had no doubt given time, Mel would have tamed the horse.
He also was aware that if it hadn't been for Mel risking her life,
he never would have gotten Dev out of the stable.

Finally, the vet threw out his hands in
surrender. "I'll call Mr. Windsor and see if I can put the horse
down here and haul him away instead of waiting until I get him back
to the clinic."

Sean's head came up sharply, unable to
believe what he heard. "What did you say?" he asked softly.

"I'm not interested in killing myself just
to haul him to the clinic and put him down when it's obviously
going to be easier to destroy him here and have him hauled
away."

Sean shook his head. "You're not destroying
that horse."

"Mr. McGee, that's the plan. Whether I do it
here or at my clinic is the only thing in question at this
point."

"People risked their
lives—the woman I love risked her
life
rescuing this horse from a
burning stable. She has second and third degree burns from saving
this horse's life." Sean put himself between the vet and the barn.
"Trust me when I say you are
not
going to destroy this animal."

"With all due respect, Mr. McGee, that's not
your call." But as Sean advanced, the vet retreated a few
steps.

"Problem here?" Ryan appeared in the
doorway, a coiled rope dangling from his left hand.

The vet appeared relieved to see what must
have seemed like the voice of sanity emanating from a calm human
being. "The California Racing Commission has contracted with me to
pick up this horse."

"They think they're going to put him down."
Sean took another step forward.

Ryan hung the rope on the nearest fence post
and folded his arms across his chest, subjecting Sean to a long
contemplative look. Then something sparked in his eyes, and he
glanced at the vet. "That true?"

"Yes, but I'm thinking it would be less
stressful to the animal if we put him down here and have him hauled
off."

Ryan's eyebrows shot skyward. "Really, now?"
He looked from Sean to the horse, then with narrowed eyes back to
the vet. His voice slid into a slow drawl. "'Cause I'm sorta
thinking here that getting dead is going to end up pretty freakin'
stressful to the horse."

"Look, Mr. McGee isn't the owner here. The
horse was confiscated and now the plan is to put him down." The
vet's hands flexed against his legs. "I'm sure Mr. McGee will be
compensated for the housing and care he's provided since the
fire."

Sean snorted. He could imagine the pittance
that would be but it was the least of his concerns. Dev didn't
deserve to be chucked out like yesterday's trash. He'd been through
enough. Sean shifted his stance more firmly between the horse and
the vet.

"How about we agree to compromise here?"
Ryan sauntered to stand shoulder to shoulder with Sean. "I'll give
you two minutes to climb in your truck and get off my land before I
have the sheriff out here looking at trespassing charges."

"But, the horse—"

Ryan shrugged. "If you can load him in the
next two minutes, you're free to take him."

The harried veterinarian looked at Dev, who
laid his ears back, showed his teeth, and squealed. The little man
edged his way toward the pickup, where his assistant already waited
behind the wheel.

"I'll be calling Mr. Windsor."

Ryan took a step forward. "What a
coincidence. I'll be speaking with him myself in the next few
minutes to make him an offer he can't refuse."

Tires spun on the snow when the assistant
put the truck in gear.

His eyes still on the departing vehicle,
Ryan shook his head. "You are more than likely going to pay an
exorbitant price for an unstable horse that's not ever going to be
a hundred percent sound. I hope to high heck you know what you're
doing here."

Sean eased out the breath he'd been holding.
"So do I," he admitted.

Ryan laid a hand on Sean's shoulder.
"Welcome back."

As he strode to his truck, Sean glanced over
his shoulder. "I'm not back yet. There's someone I've got to
see."

****

Mel eyed the pathetic pile of belongings.
Her life, all packed up. Her eyes slid across the room to the
wooden box on the table in front of the sofa. A pair of hot pink
spiked heels sat on top. One more thing for her collection of
important memories. They'd probably fit if she did some
rearranging.

She sat on the sofa and pulled the box into
her lap, lightly running her fingers over the top before she opened
it. In an absent motion, she grabbed a cracker from the package
sitting on her coffee table and munched as she removed everything.
This was her typical ritual. She'd look over her cherished items,
take comfort in her memories one last time before she reorganized
them. The shoes went in first, and took up most of the space. Next,
she unwrapped the brass horse and caressed his forehead with the
tip of her finger. Her eyes moistened as she rewrapped the figure.
The horse swam out of focus, lost in her tears as she tucked it
into one of the shoes.