Lonestar Sanctuary (18 page)

Betsy and Fern were playing with the kittens on the back porch.
He stepped through the screen door, and the two girls were so engrossed with the antics of the cats that they didn't look up.

"Supper, girls," he said. Betsy got up and ran to hug his leg. He
lifted her in his arms. "You hungry?"

She nodded.

"How about after dinner we go check on your horse? She was
moving around better today."

Betsy's brilliant smile was her answer. Watching her expressive
face, Rick wondered if there was more to the story behind her silence.
Could she have seen or heard something besides the plane crash that
caused her to retreat?

He lifted Betsy to his shoulders and opened the door for Fern.
"You liking it here, Fern?"

"Yes sir," she said in her soft, nearly inaudible voice.

"You're doing a good job with the horses. And with Betsy."

She peeked up at him through her lank bangs. A tremulous smile
flashed across her face before it disappeared. "Thanks," she whispered.
She went through the doorway ahead of him.

He bent his knees so he didn't bang Betsy's head on the doorframe and followed the others to the kitchen. Food covered the table,
and the aroma of chili mingled with the scent of the apple dumplings
she'd put on the windowsill to cool.

"Hey, man, I ain't eatin' no chili." Leon dropped into a chair and
stretched out his long legs.

"You chicken, Leon?" Rick asked, lifting Betsy and depositing her
in the chair beside Fern. "Can't handle the spice?"

Leon glowered at him. "Get off my grill. I can handle anything,
man.

"Bet I can eat it hotter than you." Rick grinned and sat beside the
boy. "Let's have a chili face-off. You game, Devon?"

The boy shook his head. "Dude, that's seriously messed up. Chili
makes you fart. I want to be able to breathe tonight."

The girls snickered. Latoya ruffled Devon's red hair as she passed.
"You don't need no help. You smelled yourself lately?"

The rest of the kids hooted with laughter. Rick grabbed the ladle.
"Want some chili, Betsy?"

The little girl nodded, her smile breaking out.

"Then tell me. Say yes." He waited, but the little girl clucked her
head. "Come on, Betsy, you can do it. You're a big girl."

Allic grabbed the ladle from his hand. "She already said she wanted
the chili." Moments later a big spoonful of chili was steaming in
Betsy's bowl. Allie crumpled crackers into it and blew on it before
lifting a spoonful to Betsy's lips.

"Oh for Pete's sake! She's not a baby, Allie. She can talk, and she
can feed herself if you'll let her."

Allic flushed and glanced around at the others listening to their
conversation. She sat down, but Rick knew she would let him have it
in private. Their minor spat squashed any banter, and the staff and the
kids vanished as soon as they gulped down their supper.

Fern took Betsy up for her bath, and Rick leaned hack in his chair.
"I shouldn't have said anything in front of the others," he said, when she opened her mouth. "But Allie, you've got to quit babying her. It's
not helping Betsy grow up."

Allic banged a pot down into the sink. "She is my daughter, Rick.
Mine and Jon's, not yours."

"She's going to be mine shortly," he pointed out. "Legally and in
every way.

I think I know what's best for my daughter. You don't understand
how fragile she is, Rick."

"I know what it's like to grow up too fast. I don't want that for her,
but I do want her to grow up eventually. Yes, she's got a problem, but
the way you coddle her, she's never going to talk. Quit answering for
her, and start putting her in positions where she has to speak."

"I don't want to hurt her."

"She's already been hurt. Your job is to help her get past it, not
wallow in it."

Allie's face reddened. "You're such a --a male!"

"I don't know how to be anything else."

I love her. She's just a little girl."

"But growing up fast. We've got to get her past this no-talking
thing before she goes to school. I've got a lot of experience here with
kids. Trust me a little."

The expression in her eyes left no doubt that he was asking the
impossible. She began to put the leftover chili away with jerky movements. She wasn't done with this argument, not judging by the tense
set of her shoulders. When she finally whirled to face him, he was
ready.

"Let's get something straight right now. I'm not going to have my
parenting questioned at every turn. Betsy will always be my little girl.
A piece of paper doesn't make her yours. You're only going to be in her life a year, and I don't want her confused about who her father
really is. Jon is her daddy, and he'll always be her daddy. I don't want
you mucking up her memories."

Like he'd do anything to hurt Jon's memory. "Where'd you learn
to grip the people you love in such a stranglehold?" he asked softly.

She flushed nearly the color of the chili, but she didn't answer. It
might take more patience than he had to get past her defenses.

THAT COUGAR'S LONELY CRY SENT GOOSE BUMPS RP HER BACK. ALLIE LAY ON
the sagging mattress and listened to the animal's wail. Even though
she knew what it was, the moan made her shudder. Betsy slept
peacefully.

Allie rubbed her burning eyes.Yo's death still weighed heavily on
her. The reality was impossible to wrap her mind around. She peered
at the clock on the bed stand. It was after midnight, and the moon cast
a soft wash of light through the curtains. She sat up and untangled her
legs from the sheet before swinging them to the floor. On nights like
this, she wished she didn't struggle so much to read.

She stood and walked to the window. Nothing moved tonight but
the wind. The dust storm had descended with a vengeance after din ner, and drifts of dust piled against the porch, the barn, and the pump
house. The howl of the wind had become more muted in the past
hour, and she thought the storm had about blown itself out.

Her argument with Rick was another reason for her sleeplessness.
Did she really have a stranglehold on Betsy? Her gaze touched her
sleeping daughter. She wanted only the best for her baby girl. Rick
didn't understand how important it was to keep Jon's memory alive.
Maybe the most important thing in her life, other than Betsy herself.

A whisper of sound came from behind her, and she turned to see
a white square of paper on the floor, highlighted in the glow of moonlight. Someone had slipped it under her door. Rick maybe? Allie
stepped to the door and picked up the note, then carried it back to
the window to look at it in the moonlight.

She laughed softly at the way her pulse raced. A midnight tryst
with her husband. Husband. She'd never thought to experience marriage again. But why hadn't he knocked and asked her to talk?

Maybe it was an apology.

She unfolded the note. Holding it up to the light, she tried to make
out the words, but her eyes refused to cooperate. Glare bothered her,
but this small bit of light wasn't enough either.

Glancing at Betsy, she saw her daughter was still sound asleep.
Allie grabbed her robe, stuffed her feet into slippers and tiptoed out
of the room. She could use some company. Jem was outside, and the
porch light might be enough to read by.

Padding noiselessly through the quiet house, she slipped out onto
the front porch. The dog wasn't around, so she whistled for him, a
light sound that seemed unduly loud in the night.

After a few minutes, she saw him coming over the hillside. The
porch light illuminated the yard enough that she could see him do his little excited dance in the air before he joined her, but he didn't make
any noise.

She patted his head, and he settled at her feet. "I could use some
company," she told the dog in a soft voice. He wagged his tail and
licked her hand. She slipped to the porch floor and wrapped her arms
around him, relishing his warm fur and his happy tongue.

Yo was dead. The realization kept surprising her, then grief would
well afresh. Tears slipped down her face, and she buried her face in
Jem's fur.

He whined and nuzzled her neck. She let him comfort her until
the pain eased, then pushed him away and got up. The forgotten note
fell to the ground. She grabbed it from the floor, settled on the swing,
then held the note under the wash of light, which was soft enough not
to cast a glare on the page. Still, the black typewritten letters jumped
around on the white paper. If only she had the money to replace her
pink glasses.

Maybe someday.

She blinked and squinted and managed to make out the letters.

I've found you. Tag, I'm it. Your worst nightmare.

The blood congealed in her head, and she felt faint. "No," she
whispered.

Jem whined, and she rubbed his ears, clinging to the contact with
another living thing.

He couldn't have found her. It was impossible. She was misreading
this. Squinting, she reread the note, but the words remained the same.
Ominous words full of menace.

She gasped, her hand going to her throat. How had the guy gotten
in? He was out there somewhere, maybe standing in the shadows.

Betsy!

Allie sprang to her feet and threw open the door. Rushing pellmell up the steps, she bolted into the bedroom and ran to Betsy's bed.
Her daughter was still sleeping, but a lingering scent of some kind of
men's cologne made Allie whirl and flip on the light. She blinked at
the bright light and stared hard into the shadows.

She and Betsy were alone.

Could it be one of the teenagers' idea of a joke? Maybe one of them
had overheard her telling Rick about the stalker. They'd been up the
night she found out about Yolanda's murder. She didn't want to believe
they'd be so cruel, but they might not realize how hurtful it was.

Allie hugged herself. She had to tell Rick about this, but she didn't
want to leave Betsy alone. Better to wake her daughter up than to have
some madman take her. Allie scooped Betsy up in her arms, grunting
softly with the little girl's weight as she headed down the hall to
Rick's room.

Leaning against the doorframe, she supported Betsy with one arm
and rapped on the door with her other hand. "Rick?" she called softly.

The silence of the house set Allie on edge. She wanted to turn her
head and look behind her, but she was almost afraid to find out if he
was watching her. "Rick," she called louder. A muffled click came
through the door, then a light shone out from under the crack. Relief
flooded her.

Rick could handle anything.

The door swung open, and she nearly fell into the room. Rick's hair
stood on end. Dressed in pajama shorts and no shirt, he leaned on the
doorframe and blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Allie? What's wrong?"

Allie's fears left her as soon as she saw him. She wanted to walk into
his arms, let him wrap her in safety. How did he do it? She could be a
bundle of terror, but one moment in his presence and she felt safe.

He lifted Betsy from her arms. "Is she sick?" His voice, roughed
with sleep, held concern.

"No, no, she's fine."Allie walked past him into the bedroom. She'd
been in here to clean, but it looked different at night with Rick's presence filling the room. His jeans lay atop his boots at the foot of the
bed, and the rumpled covers lay in a heap.

Rick stepped past her to the bed and laid Betsy on it, then drew
the covers around her before turning back to Allie. "You look scared.
Did someone call?"

"Worse." She handed him the note.

He frowned and held it out to read it. His expression changed
from bewilderment to anger. "Where was this?"

"Under my door."Allie cinched the belt on her robe tighter. "I was
awake and heard him slip it into the room."

"Did you try to see who it was?"

She shook her head. "I -I thought it might be a note from you, so
I wasn't concerned at first. I tried to read it in my room and couldn't,
so I went to the porch. I didn't see anyone."

"The house wasn't locked. We never lock it in case one of the hands
or the kids need something in the night. Anyone could have gotten in."

"How did he find me so fast?" Had it really been less than two
weeks since she drove the long, lonely stretch of 1-10 from El Paso?
Life here at the ranch seemed so normal, so right.

"I don't know." Rick put the paper down on the bed and came to
her. His hands dropped onto her shoulders. "I'll protect you, Allie.
Don't look so afraid."

"I'm afraid for Betsy," she admitted.

He pulled her against his chest, and she inhaled the musky male
scent of him. It had been so long since she'd relaxed in a man's arms. His arms and chest were hard with muscle, and the hairs on his chest
tickled her cheek. For the muscle-bound type, he was pretty nice.

She wasn't attracted to him, but to the safety he offered.

No!

She drew away and stepped back. Rick wasn't Jon. She was just
lonely. It would be easy to forget herself in his arms, and she couldn't
let that happen. The year would be up before she knew it, and her
heart couldn't stand being broken again.

Besides, falling in love with anyone would be a betrayal of Jon. Jon
had been an easygoing guy, content to let her do what she liked. She
sensed controlling Rick would be like lassoing the wind. There were
few things she still controlled in her life Betsy and her heart and
Allie planned to keep a tight grip on both.

Rick's hands dropped away. "I'll find him, Allie. I promise." His
gaze held hers. "I'm going to go search the house. Prop a chair against
the door. I'll call to you when I come back. Don't go outside of this
room until I tell you it's safe, okay?"

"Okay." He bent over his shirt and jeans, and Allie gasped. "Your
back."

Thick scars crisscrossed his back. Someone had beat him badly, or
cut him with something. Allie reached out and touched the worst one,
and Rick flinched away.