Ryelee's Cowboy (19 page)

“I know what you did,” Clint said in a
tight, even voice.

“Clint…”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it.
You’ve ruined our future. I almost had enough money saved to buy
back my ranch, and now I’m going to have to reimburse Burke for the
stolen cattle. I’ll be unemployed and homeless. I believed you, and
look where that got me. What the hell is wrong with you? If you’re
not getting stuck in trees, you’re risking my daughter with your
harebrained sledding attempt!”

Clint walked up to Ryelee, almost
touching her. “I can’t be around you just now. I trusted you, and
you made a complete fool out of me. We’ll have to figure out some
other arrangement.”

Ryelee could see he was dead serious.
She knew there wasn’t a thing she could say that would placate him.
Tears filled her eyes as she realized what he had just said. He
wanted her gone.

“Arrangement? What about Rheenie?” she
asked tearfully.

“I never wanted anything like this to
happen. I never imagined that you would betray the Dawsons and me.
It’s too much. I can’t be around you, and I don’t know if I trust
you with Rheenie. Hell, Ryelee, why?”

Ryelee flinched at the sound of the
door slamming. He was gone. There would be no explanations, no
forgiveness. His words pierced her heart. She wrapped her arms
around the baby. She would figure something out. She always did.
Now she wished she had saved her earnings instead of buying Clint
that saddle for Christmas. She shook her head. She didn't regret
the gift—it was given in love. She just regretted that she was
broke.

She didn't relish going upstairs to
her old room. She couldn’t face the loneliness of it. It all seemed
surreal to her, and she wasn’t sure she had absorbed everything
yet. Perhaps she was in shock. That would explain the feeling of
numbness that had overcome her.

Ryelee put on her coat and walked out
onto the porch. She sat on the first step, looking at the stars,
wondering if anyone was looking over her. Texas nights were
wonderful. The stars were so bright. She felt incredibly small
compared to the massive heavens.

She would have to go home, she
reasoned. It was the only place she could afford. Her father was in
jail, so she would be alone. Placing her hand on the moving baby,
she knew that she would never be alone again. The worst part of the
whole mess was her guilt. She should have told Clint about the
threats against his horses, but now it was too late. He would never
believe her again.

Ryelee couldn’t face going back into
the house, Clint’s house. Looking up at the full moon, she decided
she had enough light to walk back home. It wasn’t too far if she
went through the woods.

Ryelee stood up and walked down the
steps. She couldn’t even bring herself to look back. As the
numbness wore off, Ryelee’s heart fractured into infinite pieces.
Her footsteps felt as heavy as the emptiness in her chest, and she
headed toward the woods.

Once in the woods, it became a great
deal darker. Tears blinded her eyes, but she knew the way. Branches
scratched at her skin, drawing blood, and she tripped a couple
times. Her hands and knees had abrasions, but the baby seemed all
right. That was all that mattered.

The old run-down shack finally came
into view. Here she was, right where she’d started. Sadness
overwhelmed her spirit as she realized that all her hard work to
better herself was for naught. She was pregnant, broke, and living
like trash. Dottie had been right about her—she was trampy
trash.

With tears pouring down her face,
Ryelee walked up the rickety steps to the front door. It bruised
her heart to have to open the door, but she did. The offensive odor
of sweat and whisky filled the filthy place. She didn’t deserve
dignity or pride. This was her own fault, and she had to accept the
consequences.

Ryelee flipped the light switch and
wasn’t surprised that the electricity had been turned off. That
meant no heat either. She lit an old oil lamp and checked the
fireplace. She praised God when she saw the pile of wood next to
it. She wouldn’t freeze, not tonight. Nevertheless, she was in dire
circumstances.

She dragged her old mattress from her
bedroom to the fireplace. Grabbing a few clean threadbare blankets,
she made herself as comfortable as possible. Exhausted and
heartsick, Ryelee wiped away her tears and decided she would find a
way to survive.

* * * *

“Mama’s gone! I can’t find my mama!”
Rheenie screamed into Clint’s ear.

“I hear you, pumpkin,” he said,
opening his eyes. He could see the distress on her face and
groaned. How was he supposed to explain all that
happened?

“Mama’s not here,” he said gently.
“She had a trip to take.”

“She’ll be back?” Rheenie asked,
holding her breath.

“I’m sure we’ll see her soon,” Clint
lied. He figured Ryelee would show up. “Why don’t we get dressed
and we’ll have a big breakfast?”

“She left this,” she said, tearfully
to holding out the necklace to him.

Rheenie put the necklace around her
neck.

Clint’s heart contracted as he looked
at Rheenie’s bleak face. He didn't have any answers for her.
Apparently, Ryelee had gone the night before without taking any of
her things. It disturbed him considering how possessive she had
been of her dress. He remembered her up in the branches of the
white ash tree not wanting to rip it..

He had too much anger boiling in him
to be upset at her absence, but it hurt to see Rheenie suffering.
She hadn’t even said good-bye to Rheenie. “Come on. Let’s go to
Annie’s for a while.”

Rheenie walked next to Clint, her head
hung down, as they crossed the yard to Annie’s. The sadness
emanating from her made Clint mad. Mad at Ryelee for putting them
in this position. Mad that she had made them care so much for her.
Mad that she had betrayed him.

Annie opened the door and immediately
took Rheenie into her arms. “Where’s Sunshine?”

Rheenie shrugged her shoulders as she
put her face in Annie’s neck.

“
Could you watch Rheenie
this morning?”

“Where is Ryelee? Is she feeling
unwell?”

“No, nothing like that. Ryelee had to
go visit a sick relative.” He wouldn’t look her in the
eye.

Rheenie looked at Annie and touched
her face with her little hand. “My new mama left me just like my
old mama.” She pulled out the necklace she wore. “I have this to
member her.” Tears began to pour down Rheenie’s face. “Why do
mama’s always go away?”

“It’s going to be okay,” she said as
she sat in the rocking chair with Rheenie on her lap. They rocked
in silence.

“We can do girl stuff together.” Annie
suggested. “Go on, cowboy, we’ll be ok here.”

Clint nodded. He couldn’t even muster
up a smile for Annie. He could tell by the crease between her brow
and her thin lips that she wanted details, but he wasn’t up to it.
”Thanks, Annie.”

* * * *

Ryelee woke to bitter coldness. The
fire had gone out sometime during the night. Pain slammed into her,
overwhelming her, as she remembered why she was in her old shack.
Her muscles and bones protested, but she didn't have a choice. She
had to get up and find food, water, and more firewood.

Looking down at her wrinkled clothes,
she frowned. She hadn’t even brought a comb with her. Quickly she
got the fire going again. She turned on the faucet in the kitchen.
The lack of water she expected. Immediately she grabbed the old
metal water pail. This wasn’t the first time she’d lived without
electricity or water. She would have to go to the creek and get
water. It would have to be boiled. She couldn’t take any chances,
especially with the baby.

Ryelee glanced at the woodpile and
realized how little was left. She had a lot to do during the
daylight hours. The oil lamp looked almost empty.

It wasn’t as though she had any
choices. Ryelee grabbed the pail and headed for the creek. The air
outside smelled clean and sweet, and she dreaded having to clean
the shack. The walk to the creek was longer than she’d remembered.
The water-filled pail was much heavier than she recalled too, and
she ended up pouring half of it out before reaching the
shack.

She hoped it would warm-up today and
she would be able to let the fire die, but first she needed clean
water. Ryelee grabbed a grate from the oven and placed it over the
coals then put the metal bucket on top of it. She knew it would
take a while to boil, so she headed outside to search for
firewood.

She found a pile of logs by the old
chopping block. Ryelee wanted to cry, but she convinced herself she
was made of sterner stuff. Grabbing the ancient axe, she started
chopping the wood. She had chopped plenty of wood in her life and
was quite adept at it. The physical strength required slowed her
down.

By the time she finished, she ached.
She had blisters on her hands and her arms throbbed. Her back felt
as though it was on fire. Mostly she was hungry and thirsty. She
was not optimistic of finding much food in the cupboards. Her
father usually drank his meals.

Ryelee carried in a heavy armload of
wood, relieved the water was at a slow boil. She carefully took the
pail off the fire and put it on the warped kitchen counter to cool.
She began to take inventory of the food. Just as she suspected, the
cupboards were bare. Three cans of tomato soup and a box of
crackers was all she found.

Her heart sank. Things looked rather
bleak. Ryelee drank a glass of water and ate a few crackers. She
felt so stupid for leaving without her things. Once again she let
her heart lead instead of her head. When was she going to learn to
think first? Her impulsiveness had become a fatal flaw.

Sitting down to rest, Ryelee looked
around the disgusting ramshackle shack. For her baby’s health, she
knew she had to scour it. She needed more water, and she groaned at
the thought of going back down to the creek. The shack wasn’t going
to clean itself, she lamented, grabbing the water pail.

Luckily, she found a bottle of bleach
under the kitchen sink. Stepping outside every few minutes due to
the fumes, it took a long while to clean the cabin. At least the
exercise kept her warm.

The sound of a dog barking surprised
her. Ryelee carefully opened the door and saw a beautiful golden
retriever barking at her. He dropped a pheasant in front of him.
Ryelee laughed as the retriever picked the bird up in his mouth and
brought it to her, dropping it at her feet.

“Are you bringing me dinner, boy?” She
reached out to pet the dog.

The dog licked her hand then barked at
her.

“I wish I knew what you were saying,”
she said.

“She wants to be your
friend.”

Startled, Ryelee looked up. “Hey, what
brings you to this neighborhood?”

Jimmy McKeegan smiled and approached
her. “Val and I are hunting. I guess she decided that you needed
the food more than I did.” He chuckled.

“Val?” Ryelee looked at the dog. “Are
you a girl or boy?”

Jimmy smiled at her. “She’s a female.
Her name is Valentine.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“I’ve become attached to her.” Concern
filled his blue eyes. He shuffled his feet as though he was
debating what to say next. “Why are you here?”

“Long story.” Ryelee gazed at the
ground. “I’ll be living here now.”

Jimmy’s brows furrowed “Problems at
home?”

Ryelee nodded. “Something like that.
It’s fine, really. I grew up here. I know all about surviving in
the woods.”

“I can’t leave you here. You know
that, don’t you?”

Ryelee sighed. “I’ll be fine. I need
some alone time. I’ll be perfectly safe here, Jimmy. I have water
and heat. I’ll be absolutely fine. I’m a lot stronger than you give
me credit for. This is my family home. ”

“I have to tell you that you look
awful, no offense,” Jimmy said walking toward her. He stopped just
in front of her and took her hand. He ran his fingers over her
blisters and grimaced. “These look very painful, Ryelee. Whatever
the problem is, I can’t leave you here.”

Ryelee looked at Jimmy’s hands. “I
have nowhere to go,” she admitted, choking on her words.

Jimmy tipped her head up with his
finger. “Come home with me,” he said gently.

“I’ve done things. I’ve ruined
everything, and the last place I should be is on the Dawson’s
ranch. Clint told me to leave. I can’t go back there,
Jimmy.”

“Nothing could be that bad. Listen.
I’m not leaving you here. Either you tell me what’s going on, or
I’ll have to go to Clint.”

Ryelee stared him straight in the eye.
“I was part of the rustling.”

“I don’t believe that. Try another
one.”

Ryelee knitted her eyebrows together.
“I’m telling you the truth.”

“Chief Bodin cleared you on that,
Ryelee. What’s really going on?”

“I was involved in the Thanksgiving
rustling.”