Lonestar Sanctuary (31 page)

"Dolly told me about your brother, Chad."

His brows drew together. "You could have asked me instead of
gossiping behind my back."

Her cheeks heated. "You're right. I'm sorry. So tell me now." She
held his gaze.

He took her hand again, rubbing his thumb over it. "I haven't seen
him since he was five. I looked for him for a long time, ever since I
threw over my career with the military and came back to Bluebird.
Every door was shut though, and I finally had to accept it. Maybe he'll
come looking for me someday."

Her trip today was on the tip of her tongue, but she so badly
wanted to surprise him. She choked back the information, imagining
his expression when Chad finally stood before him. No matter what it
took, she would find his brother.

"Why so serious?" he asked.

She put as much of her love into her gaze as she dared. "What happened to your back? The scars, they're dreadful."

A slight smile tipped his lips. "My mother didn't take kindly to me
burning the chili when I was ten. She took a whip to my back."

Tears burned Allie's eyes. "Oh, Rick." She squeezed his fingers. "I
can't imagine a mother doing that."

"Most people can't," he said dryly. "It was one reason I swore I'd
never marry. I didn't trust women. But watching you with Betsy has
shown me how a real mother loves her child."

With his thumb rubbing her palm, she found it hard to think. "My
parents were good to me," she said.

"Then why are you frowning?"

"My mom lied to me about Elijah," she said. "She said he kicked
her out when he found out she was pregnant, and that she lost the
baby. Instead, she gave my sister up for adoption, and Elijah brought
Maria to the ranch. All these years I could have known her. I don't
know why my mom broke ties with Elijah. It was only after she died
that I realized he was even still alive."

"Maybe she didn't want your father to know about the baby."

"Maybe. But why did she refuse to have anything to do with Elijah?
It doesn't make sense."

"Now that things have settled down, maybe we can try to find out."

The waitress brought their food, and the conversation lulled as they
ate their tender steaks. It was the best meal Allie could remember.
Maybe because she wasn't looking over her shoulder for danger every
minute. Or maybe because of the loving glances Rick sent her way.

Replete with hot food, Allie leaned back in her chair. "The kids
will be gone in a few days. When does our next batch come?"

"In a couple of weeks. The rest of the bunkhouse will be finished,
and we'll have a group for the month of April. Summer is busy, even
though it's hot. The kids like swimming in the river and riding the
horses early morning before the sun heats everything up."

Allie's sigh was a happy one. Life was going to be good. "I'll be
right back." She took her purse and walked to the bathroom.

The room smelled fresh from a pine detergent. Thankful it was
empty, Allie found a chair and opened her purse. She pulled out a
small photo of her and Jon together on their wedding day. They both
looked so young and happy.

Rick wasn't Jon. Maybe it was best they were so different. Rick
had his own place in her heart. "Good-bye, Jon," she whispered. "I
hope you're looking down from heaven and are happy Rick and I are
together. I think you are." Tears pricked her eyes as she put the picture away.

RICK HELD ALLIE'S HAND IN THE TRUCK. THE STARS AND THE MOON LIT THE
vegetation on both sides of the road with a golden glow. With his window rolled down, the fragrance of creosote and sage filled his lungs.

He parked in front of the house. "Looks like the kids are watching
TV." The blue glow of the television flickered through the window.

Rick's spirit deflated a bit. He'd hoped for the evening alone with
Allie. Peeking at his watch, he saw it was only seven. It would be an
hour before he could send the kids off to bed.

The security light illuminated the corral around the barn. They could
be alone in the barn. He got out and went around to open her door.

Allie looked up at him with such trust it scared him. What if he
failed her? She was bound to find out he had feet of clay soon.

"Let's make sure the kids took care of the horses," he said. Allie slid
out, and he took her hand again. Jem ran to greet them, doing his
little air dance of joy.

Allie stopped to pet the dog. "Hey, Jem, you keeping everyone safe
for us?"

Rick led her toward the barn. "He'd only lick someone to death."

"Poor Jem, did you hear that? Rick has no faith in you."

"Oh, I have plenty of faith." Rick squeezed her fingers. "Faith that
he's the friendliest dog on the planet."

The cougar screamed from a rocky hillside, and he saw Allie
shiver. "It's probably two miles away," he told her.

"I know. I worry one of these days it will come after one of the
horses. Or even worse, Betsy."

"Jem protects us pretty well from animal intruders. It's the human
ones that were the problem." He rubbed the dog's head as he trotted
beside them.

"That he does," she said, smiling.

They reached the barn, and he slid open the door. The scent of
horse and hay greeted them like old friends. A mouse scurried away
from their feet, then a dark shape swooped down.

Allie screamed and ducked behind him as the bat barely missed
her hair, then cruised on out the door. "I hate bats," she said.

"They're interesting," he said. "There's a big colony in an old mine
shaft about five miles from here. They're western pipistrelle bats, and
they only eat insects, not pretty girls."

She shuddered. "Interesting to you maybe. Nasty things."

"They eat tons of mosquitoes," he said. "And scorpions and centipedes."

"They're still not my friends." She went past him to the stall that
held Moonbeam. "Hey boy, you doing okay?" She rubbed the white
blaze on his face.

Rick did a quick walk through, and all was quiet. He eyed the
stack of hay in the corner. With a blanket over it, they could settle
there and . . . talk. Suppressing a grin, he grabbed an old quilt they
kept in the barn for sick horses. When he sniffed it, it smelled slightly
horsy but not bad. He spread it over the hay and fell back onto it. He
propped his head up with his arms folded under it.

Allie turned toward him and smiled when she saw his comfortable
pose. "I take it you are in no hurry to go check on the kids?"

"Emilio is with them." He patted the spot beside him. Her smile
widened, and she approached his little nest. "The kitchen is probably
a mess.

"I'll help you with it later." Reaching up, he grabbed her hand and
tugged her down onto the quilt with him. He put his arm around her,
and she snuggled against him. Her hair, smelling like a yucca blossom,
tickled his nose, but he didn't mind.

He settled his chin against the top of her head. The words he
wanted to say hovered behind his teeth.

I love you.

He'd never told anyone that except his little brother. His parents
weren't ones for soft words, and he'd learned that early. But Chad
was different. And so was Allie. He'd never imagined he could be so
happy, so content. But how did she feel? If she left him, he couldn't
handle it.

She still didn't know the role he'd played in Jon's death. And he
couldn't tell her. Not right now, with the hay so soft and sweetsmelling, and her trust in him so heady.

"Are you happy, Allie?"

"Very happy." Her voice had a little hitch in it. She pulled away and
looked into his face. Her hand came up to cup his cheek. "I love you,
Rick," she whispered.

Joy exploded in Rick's chest, radiating heat through his body. "You
do? Really?" He sounded like a sixteen-year-old kid, and he nearly
groaned. His lips found hers. So soft and yielding. He drank in the love
she poured over him like the desert drank up rain.

Tell her. The words lodged behind his teeth. Three little words. I
love you. Why couldn't he say them? He was afraid to let them loose
in case they grew into something he couldn't manage.

Love made you vulnerable, tore your heart out when you weren't
looking. If he said the words, they might bite him later. So instead he
poured how he felt into the kiss. Surely she would understand.

They necked like two kids at the drive-in until he heard the kids
laughing as they went past the barn to the bunkhouse.

"Let's go to the house," he whispered. "The bed is softer."

Her questioning gaze softened, and she nodded. Hand in hand,
they slipped out of the barn and moved through the pools of moonlight to the house.

CONTENTMENT SOFTENED RICK'S BONES. HE PROPPED HIMSELF ON ONE
elbow and watched his wife's face in the morning light. Had he ever
been this happy, even once? He didn't think so.

His conscience had torn at him all night in spite of it. Until she
knew the truth, how could he trust her vows of love? Before he got in
any deeper, he needed to know how she'd react to the truth.

And he still hadn't told her he loved her. Rick believed in showing
how he felt with action. She rolled closer, tucking her head onto his
shoulder. He pulled her closer.

"You okay?" Her voice was husky.

"Fine."

His hand rubbed against the flesh of her upper arm in a loving caress. He had to tell her. Tension tightened the muscles in his back
and arms. It wasn't fair to keep it from her. If only he had some whiskey
to bolster his courage.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"There's something I have to tell you," he said. Her smile bloomed
out, and he knew she thought he was going to say something sweet,
like the three little words that hovered on his tongue.

He rushed on before he lost his courage. "It's about Jon's death.
My part in it."

Rolling onto her back, she propped herself up on the pillow and
stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

He sat up and ran his hand through his rumpled hair. His courage
began to fail. How could she forgive him when he couldn't forgive
himself? "Forget it."

"No. No, I'm not going to forget it. Something is between us,
Rick, even after last night. If we are going to build a future, we have
to knock down the wall."

He knew she was right. "It's my fault he's dead."

She folded her arms across her chest as though to ward off whatever he was trying to tell her. "How can it be your fault?"

"Allie, I'm an alcoholic. A recovering one, but it's something I
struggle with every day." He couldn't look away from her stunned
face, though he wanted to.

"An alcoholic." Her blue eyes cleared, and she touched his arm.
"It's okay, Rick. We all have something we're ashamed of in our past.
I'll be here for you."

She wouldn't be so glib once she knew the truth. Rick held her
gaze. "You don't understand, Allie. I was drunk the day Jon died." He
looked away, unable to watch the words he was about to say pierce her. In an instant he was back in Iraq with the raw sewage making his
eyes water and the stink of gunpowder lingering on his clothes.

THE SOUND OF THE TROOPS' BOOTS CLOCKED ALONG THE PAYMENT. RICK
staggered when they stopped at the end of the street. The rest of the
unit hunkered down behind some trash barrels. Rick fell clumsily
beside his buddy. Some hair of the dog would clear his mind. He
fumbled for the little flask he'd slipped into his pocket.

"You've had enough," Jon hissed. He grabbed the flask from Rick's
hand and started to put it in his own pocket.

"No sermon," Rick slurred. "Give it back." He made an awkward
swipe at Jon's arm.

A shadow loomed over them. Colonel Preston glared down at
Jon. "I knew you weren't as pure as you tried to seem, Lieutenant
Siders. Hand it over. You'll be brought up for courtmartial on this."

Rick tried to slide out of the way. He had enough presence of
mind to know that if the colonel saw him like this, he'd be placed
under arrest. Jon was too good of a buddy to squeal on him.

"Yes sir," Jon said, straightening. He passed the flask to his superior.
"I'm sorry, sir."

"Sorry doesn't cut it," the colonel snapped. "Stand up. Walk a line
for me."

"I didn't drink any of it, sir. I'm competent to fight." Jon leaped to
his feet, walked a line, turned, and came back.

Shame clutched Rick's gut. He'd make it up to Jon though. His
buddy had been eyeing a dress for his wife but didn't have the money
to buy it. Jon sent every cent back to his little family in El Paso. Rick
would buy it and send it, then tell Jon what he'd done.

"Enough. But this isn't over." The colonel grabbed the flask and
moved away with a final contemptuous glare.

"Thanks, buddy," Rick muttered. "You saved my bacon there."

Jon's gaze held pity and love. "You've got to quit the drinking,
Rick. It's going to kill you."

"I know, I know." Rick stood, still wavering. "Let's get this job
done." He couldn't stand to look his buddy in the eye. Jon was the best
friend he'd ever had.

"Stop!" Jon grabbed Rick's arm when he started toward the house
that had pieces of plaster missing and no windows. "Wait for the order."

Rick shrugged off his friend's hand. "No glory in waiting," he said,
his words slurred. Before Jon could grab him again, he leaped to the
door and kicked it open.

His gaze collided with the five insurgents pointing guns at him. He
brought his own weapon up, but slowly, too slowly. Expecting to feel
bullets tearing through his skin, he closed his eyes. The next thing he
knew, Jon's rebel call echoed into the small room. His buddy leaped
into the house in front of the men.

The bullets meant for him entered Jon's chest, and his bloodspattered body fell across Rick as the other soldiers came through the
door.

HE COULDN'T LOOK AT HER AS HE RECOUNTED THE STORY. WHEN IT WAS
over, he lifted his gaze to her face. "Don't hate me, Allie. I hate myself
enough for both of us."