Lonestar Sanctuary (20 page)

"It wasn't like that." Rick clamped his teeth against any more
explanation. "It's about lunchtime. We'd better get back."

Charlie's face took on its hurt expression again, and Rick wondered how the kid could have fallen for Allie so fast.

Who's talking? The voice whispered in his head. You're just like
Charlie. He shook the thought away. He was just doing his duty.
Charlie might succumb to her charms, but he wouldn't.

"I'm heading in," Charlie said.

"Be right there." Rick sat on the back porch step and listened to
the cattle low in the back field. He pulled out his cell phone and
called Brendan.

"Me again, buddy," he said when his friend answered. "Trouble
came calling last night." He told Brendan about the intruder and the
note. "How could he have tracked her here?"

"She talk to anyone back in El Paso?"

"No. Oh wait, yeah, she talked to her friend one day, then her
friend's parents. The one who was killed."

"Maybe the guy had their phone tapped. You know how easy it is
to get hold of a listening device."

"But she didn't tell them where she was."

"She call on the house phone?"

"Yeah," he said, his heart sinking. "Caller ID."

"Yep. Nothing's secret these days. Anything else I can do?"

"Nope, not unless you've got some personnel with nothing to do
that you'd like to send me for protection."

"Wish I did, Rick. Sounds like you need some backup."

"I'll manage."

"She couldn't be in better hands." Brendan gave a knowing chuckle.
"Pun intended, Mr. Newlywed."

"It's not like that," he said for the second time in five minutes.

"Whatever." Brendan's voice became brusque again. "Listen, I've
gotta go. Keep me posted, and call if there's anything I can do."

Rick put his phone away and got up. Protecting Allie and Betsy lay
squarely on his shoulders, and he wasn't sure he was up to the task anymore. He'd gotten soft living here on the ranch, where the only danger
was from animals and the weather. Humans could be more treacherous
and more deadly than any of their counterparts in the animal kingdom.

THEY FOUND TOO MANY BLUEBIRDS TO COUNT. ALLIE'S MUSCLES ACHED IN
a pleasant way from the hike as she rested at the bottom of a rock formation Rick called Eye of the Needle. A thin plume of dust billowed
up from the car that pitched and rocked its way along the potholes
in the lane to the house. She watched it travel toward the buildings.
The vehicle looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite determine
the make from this far away. Betsy and the girls sat among the bluebonnets, and she turned back to them to take their picture.

Betsy's smile radiated up at her, and Allie smiled back. All seemed
right with the world this afternoon, and she wondered how she could
feel so happy when she knew her enemy had found her. But he wasn't
here today. Today she could lift her face to the hot sun and breathe in
the aroma of sage and creosote.

She snapped the picture and put her camera back into her shirt
pocket. When she turned to look back at the house, she saw a man
step out of the car. The lawyer. Wally Tatum. Maybe he brought news
about the adoption.

"I'm ready for some iced tea. How about you?" she called to the
girls.

"Ice cream sounds better," Latoya said, getting up and dusting the
dirt from her shorts. "With hot fudge."

"I think there's some in the freezer. How about you and Fern go
fix it, and I'll be in shortly. I need to talk to the man down there."

"We'll take Betsy," Fern said, clasping the little girl's hand.

"I'll walk you to the house."Allie wasn't about to let Betsy out of
her sight until they were safely inside.

As they neared the buildings, she saw Rick step off the front porch
to greet Wally, and she quickened her steps. The girls ran ahead of her,
and once they were inside, she stopped at Rick's side.

"Mrs. Bailey." Wally tipped his hat.

Mrs. Bailey. She saw the start Rick gave and knew the words had
shocked him as much as they did her. She wasn't a Siders anymore,
wasn't part of Jon's family. She hadn't even thought about that. Something squeezed in her chest, a sharp pang at just how much her life had
changed. She'd thought she would die a Siders, would lay beside Jon
in the little cemetery in El Paso.

Her fingers curled into her palms. "Mr. Tatum. Any news?"

"Please, ma'am, if you call me Wally, I'll call you Allie. We don't
like formality here." Wally gestured to the rockers on the porch.
"How about we set a spell, and I'll bring you up to speed."

Rick took Allie's arm, and they stepped onto the porch. She settled
onto the swing while the men took the rockers. "Is it good news?"

Wally smiled broadly. "About as good as you can get. With most
adoptions the child needs to reside with the adoptive parent for six
months. The judge is waiving that requirement in your case since she
knows Rick here. The home study will be done the first of the week if you're agreeable, and we can set the finalization of the adoption at the
end of the month."

"You're kidding," Rick said. "I had no idea it would move that fast."

Wally grinned and put his boots on the porch railing. "The judge
thinks you're a saint, and she was mighty fond of Elijah. Betsy's his
great-granddaughter. Stands to reason the judge would do everything
in her power to help out."

Allie could hardly believe it. All the dominoes were falling into
place. She was so used to things going wrong that it didn't seem possible the adoption would be this easy. "No problems at all?"

"Nope. The road is clear before us." Wally stretched his arms over
his head. "I could go for some iced tea right about now."

"With news like that, you deserve a hot-fudge sundae," Allie said,
getting to her feet.

"I wouldn't turn it down," Wally said.

"How about you?" she asked Rick.

"A celebration sounds good," he said.

His eyes were smiling, and he looked as relieved as she felt. Had
he thought it wouldn't go through? She knew so little about Rick. Was
she doing the right thing? When he adopted Betsy, he would always be
in their lives, even after the divorce. What if she found out things
about him later when it was too late?

Staring into his face, she searched his gaze until he lifted a brow in
question. "Anything wrong?" he asked.

"No, no, nothing," she said hastily.

But how did one ever know what was in the heart of another person? She had to trust that Jon had known him well and said she could
rely on Rick. Sometimes you just had to trust.

Trust came hard to Allie anymore. When had that happened? She remembered her younger years, when she believed the best about
everyone. Maybe she'd seen too much, lived through too much heartache to think there might not be secrets behind Rick's smile.

Today she would choose to trust though. Trust that God had led
her to the right place for help, even when she didn't quite understand
the method.

THE LANDSCAPE CHANGED FROM EMPTY DESERT TO SIGNS OF HABITATION
as the truck neared the city limits of El Paso. Mr. Fleming had said not
to come to the funeral, but Allie couldn't sit at the ranch while her
best friend was laid to rest. Her beater truck would never make the
six-hour trip each way to El Paso, and Rick wanted to take her anyway, so she'd agreed to let him.

She'd passed the drive dozing with her head against the window
until about an hour ago. It was better than trying to make conversation when her heart felt as barren as the landscape at the ordeal ahead
of her. She'd attended too many funerals the past two years.

Yo was Allie's last link with her old life. Everyone she loved except
Betsy was gone now. It wasn't fair. If she'd done something wrong, why did her family have to suffer? She wished she knew what caused
the man to fixate on her.

She dug her nail polish out and carefully applied a fresh coat of
hot pink.

"Whew, that stuff stinks," Rick said, wrinkling his nose. "Why do
you wear it anyway? It doesn't stay on long."

Allie held out a finished hand. "You don't think it looks pretty?"

"It looks fake."

Allie capped the polish and blew on her nails. "Nice nails are the
difference between a lady and a woman."

"Who told you that? You're a lady no matter what."

"My mother."

Rick grunted, then shuffled some papers on his lap. "You awake
enough to help me navigate?"

"Yes."Allie stretched and looked down at Betsy. "She's still asleep
though."

"Can you help me look for the street?You're more familiar with El
Paso than me."

Allie nodded and turned to look out the window. "The funeral home
is about five lights or so in.You'll turn right, so get in the right-hand lane."

The familiar streets looked alien and dangerous. She'd gotten used
to open land and blue skies. It would be hard to ever move back to the
city again.

"You doing okay?"

She turned her head to glance at him. "It's going to be a hard day.
Yo was the only Fleming kid."

"I still wish you wouldn't go. It's not safe."

She hunched her shoulders and ran her hand over the soft velour
of the seat. "It's not safe at the ranch. Nowhere is really safe."

His eyes narrowed. "I won't leave your side. And I'll keep hold of
Betsy every minute."

She nodded and turned to look back out the window. They
passed Cowtown Boots, and nostalgia swept over her.Yo had bought
Allie's boots there just three months ago. They'd mugged it up as
they tried on every outlandish pair they saw before settling on something practical.

How could that bright spirit be dead?

Allie reminded herself that Yo wasn't really dead. She'd gone on to
a better place. They would be together again someday.

But right now she felt like someone had ripped her heart out.

"Turn here," she said.

Rick slowed the truck and turned at the light. A few intersections
later, she pointed out the funeral home, and he parked in the lot.

"I'll carry Betsy," he said. Rick unbuckled the little girl's seat belt
and lifted her in his arms.

Allie's hand stayed on the door lever. All she'd done for the past
year was stand by the caskets of those she loved.

"You coming?"

"Yes." She pushed open the door and got out, but she might as well
have been slogging through knee-high mud.Yo's parents waited inside
that building, and she would be expected to offer comfort when she
had none.

Rick took her elbow and guided her toward the door. The strength
of his fingers was a support she badly needed. He held open the door,
and she walked into the crowd milling around the reception hall. A
young woman pointed her in the right direction when she asked for
the Fleming funeral.

Mr. Fleming spotted her first. His girth strained the buttons of his blue suit. The big lapels looked out-of-date, and Allie wondered if it
was the suit he'd worn to his wedding thirty years ago. His kinky black
hair was shorter than she'd ever seen it, and the dark face under it had
developed new lines.

He enveloped her in a hug. "Told you not to come, girl."

Tears welled at the sorrow in his voice. "I had to say good-bye."

His beefy hands patted her shoulder. "Who's the Paul Bunyan type
with Betsy?"

"Oh, I need to introduce you."Allie glanced around and gestured
to Rick, who stood a few feet off as if to give her some time alone
with the family.

He joined her with Betsy still in his arms. The little girl was awake
now, but she clung to Rick like he was her port in the storm. Allie
knew the feeling.

"Mr. Fleming, this is m-my husband, Rick Bailey."

The older man's smile seemed to freeze in place. He looked Rick
over carefully. "My Yo, did she know of this?" Suspicion coated his words.

"I told her the last time we talked what I planned."

Mr. Fleming and Rick locked gazes, thenYolanda's father nodded.
"You take good care of these girls, Mr. Bailey."

Rick shifted Betsy to his other arm. "I intend to."

THE WEEKEND HAD FILLED RICK WITH A STRANGE SENSE OF CONTENTMENT.
Attending church with Allie and the kids beside him just like a real
family, going bird-watching, watching Allie paint her nails and Betsy's
tiny half moons with color. Rick could get used to this.

There had been no more incidents, though Rick watched over the
ranch and every person there with a sharp gaze.

The home study on Monday had been a breeze. A form to fill out,
a few perfunctory questions, and the woman had smiled and left. Rick
didn't anticipate any problems. Everyone in town knew him and his
commitment to working with kids.

He and Emilio talked out how to handle the kids with Elijah
gone. Rick took over the group talk sessions and found them just
like his studies had told him sometimes frustrating and sometimes
rewarding.

Tuesday morning he and Charlie stood at the corral fence and
evaluated the condition of the horses. Three of them had been rescued
within the last three months, and the latest one, which they'd all come
to call Betsy's mare, was showing signs of lethargy not a good thing
when she'd been so perky.

"We can't lose her," he told Charlie. "Betsy would be devastated.
Did you call Grady?"

"He's out of town. His assistant is going to come take a look at her
this afternoon." Charlie popped a Hershey's kiss in his mouth from a
bag he'd nearly emptied in the last fifteen minutes. "We got company."

Rick turned to see a Ford sedan approaching the house. The sedate
blue color and tinted windows made his muscles tense, and somehow
he knew before the two men stepped out in their navy suits and neat
ties that the FBI had found Allie.

"I'll handle this," he told Charlie. "Don't say anything" He strode
over to intercept the men who were approaching the porch. "I'm Rick
Bailey, the ranch foreman," he said, sticking out his hand.