Lone Tree (32 page)

He stepped down from the pickup and walked to her,
eyes searching hers. He stopped within touching distance but left space between
them. He didn’t attempt to kiss her. “Your house is ready.”

“Oh.” He was trying to make amends by starting all
over? “Well, I already knew that.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his forehead, knuckles pushing his
hat back. “What I meant was, it’s ready to move back into. Carried all your
stuff over there for you. Seemed that’s what you’d wanted.”

Exactly what she’d wanted. Yet not at all what she
wanted.

“Thank you,” she said formally. Where were they
going now? Who was going to make the first move?

As if he’d heard the unspoken question, he took that
one step to close the distance between them, leaned down and brushed his lips
across hers. The touch was feather light but she felt it all the way into her
heart. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she said in answer, and her voice cracked. She
put her hands on his shoulders, leaned her forehead against him and felt the
tension leave his body the same instant it left hers.

“You going to invite that boy in here to drink some
coffee with us?” Margene called from inside the house.

“Yes, ma’am,” Reed answered. “She just did.”

*

“Miles, I have to talk to you,” Lainie said as soon
as he walked into the office the next morning. Before the last word was out of
her mouth, she was on her feet and turning to face him.

When she’d returned from the Cooper house yesterday,
her boss was nowhere around, and he was later than usual coming in today. The
longer she’d had to wait, the more nervous she got, yet also the more resolved.
She had to face her grandfather; face Reed and their love; face herself.

Miles glanced her way. He appeared to be taking in
her stance, and not liking it. “No, you don’t.” He resumed walking toward his
desk.

She blinked. “Well, yes, I do. It’s...this is
important.”

“All the more reason not to talk now.”

“Miles—”

“Want me to spell it out?” He reached for the rotary
file of cards and clumsily rotated them. “Fingers crippled this morning,
couldn’t sign my name if I had to, and I got a touch of biliousness to boot.
Only reason I came in here was to get young Doc Talbot’s number so I can ask
for a stool softener. Any questions?” Appearing exasperated with the file of
cards, he picked up the whole thing and carried it across the room.

He stopped at the door, turned back. “You okay?” He
pointed at her knee.

She nodded, feeling as exasperated as he looked.

“Made it up with Reed?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re fine.”

He left. She sat down, leaned as far back as her
chair would allow and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t enough to make the
decision and find the courage to carry it through. She also had to make him
listen.

*

The next week, which would conclude with
Thanksgiving, started out cold and busy. The ranch was shorthanded. Carter and
his wife were visiting family in Oklahoma, and Glen Charles was housebound with
flu. His oldest son had brought it home from school and shared it with the
whole family.

Mack’s contract labor crew was also short because of
the holidays, and every man he had was already working. The Lazy L loaned them
a wrangler for two days. Miles was feeling better and was out each day in his
truck, filling in where he was needed. Lainie suspected that if she were
capable of sitting atop a horse or manipulating a brake pedal, she’d also be
drafted. Her tough luck she wasn’t; she would’ve jumped at the chance to get
some hands-on activity.

Cows had to be sorted by body condition and age then
moved to appropriate pastures. The thinnest and youngest got the best pastures
and extra rations.

Salt blocks had to be replenished. Water supply was
crucial; in a recent drought, when creeks had quit flowing and as tank after
tank (man-made ponds) had gone dry, water troughs had been put out near the
house and filled with water bought in town. Expensive, but necessary. At most
wells, windmills had been replaced with submersible pumps, and everything
needed constant checking and fixing. Gate and fence repair was an ongoing,
never-ending job.

From sunup to sundown strays had to be routed out
and rescued. Lainie learned about “brush rats,” and couldn’t help but grin,
though she doubted anyone else saw humor in the situation. Brush rats were
cattle who absolutely refused to be gathered, and would actually lie down on
the ground to avoid being seen. Dogs found them by smell, and then the stubborn
cattle would actually run and fight.

Lainie saw little of Reed early in the week, less of
Miles.

Every once in a while she’d see her boss talking to
Rosalie, then he’d disappear. She found signs of him in the office—he’d leave
work for her or finish up something she’d left for him—but they never crossed
paths. Which meant that she had to swallow her uneasiness yet hang on to her
resolve. The resultant effect had her feeling as anxious and frazzled as the
proverbial long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers.

As she exited by the kitchen doorway on Wednesday,
the day before Thanksgiving, Lainie spied Miles’s SUV driving up.

She drew in a long breath, hoping to quiet the knot
of anxiety that formed in her gut at the sight of her grandfather...and the
thought of finally being able to wipe the slate clean. No matter where it took
her, took all of them, it had to be done.

She detoured to the parking shed, walking as fast as
the bum leg would allow. Miles walked out of the shed, saw her, stopped and
waited. At least he wasn’t heading in another direction this time.

“Still got the limp,” he observed.

“Don’t you start, too. Miles, we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.”

She rested her weight on her left foot and crossed
her arms. Not again. “What’s up with you? You’re always available to talk, but
lately I can’t even find you. It’s like you’re avoiding me.”

“You’ve got something on your mind I don’t want to
hear,” he said matter-of-factly.

She felt like the air had been sucked out of her.
“What?”

“Give it a while. Get the holidays behind us. You
still want to talk then, then we will.”

“But...what...what do you think I—”

“Uh-uh, Lainie Sue. Leave it alone.”

“You can’t gag me, Miles. I won’t let—”

“Put it any way you want. And you don’t have to
let
me. It’s done.” He walked around her.

Oh, for the love of...

“Is this because I got hurt?” she called after him.

“Part of it. I want you well. Healthy and strong.
Till then you just hold on to it, whatever it is.”

She stared after him, blew her breath out in a loud
whoosh, then in resignation followed him. He entered the main house but she
went on around the corner to her own place.

What, exactly, did he not want to hear? He already
suspected who she was and didn’t want to deal with it? Or did he think a
problem had developed between her and Reed? If he’d had a hand in Carl Henry’s
death and thought she was suspicious, he wouldn’t relish talking about that
either. Whatever he thought the issue was, she realized, he wouldn’t want to
mince words once they got to it. He’d want her strong enough to handle whatever
he threw at her.

He was right about one thing: her knee had to heal.
Unless she wanted to call a cab and then buy an airline ticket, she was
presently confined at Lone Tree.

*

A week before Christmas, once supper was cleared
away in the main house, Reed, Randy, Carter and Luke carried in an eight-foot pine
and anchored it in its holder in the corner of the dining room.

Each man cautioned another. “Be careful.”

Then, “Watch out.”

“Not that way. Hey! You backed me into the wall
here.”

Lucky Glen Charles had gone home to his family and
was spared the squabbling. Even the room the tree went into had been debated
for five minutes at the front door.

“The drawing room,” Randy said. “It’s tradition.”

“Too remote in there,” Reed said. “We can enjoy it
three times a day in the dining room.”

“Should go in that little room in the front,” Luke
declared. “Right in the window. Now that’s tradition.”

Miles shrugged, allowing the debate to continue.
Lainie thought he was enjoying it. Then Rosalie marched down the hall, pointed
into the dining room and kept pointing until they carried the tree in there.

“Red and white,” Luke said as he set up an accessory
stool ladder next to the tree. “White lights and red ornaments. Seen it once
and it’s pretty.”

Randy shook his head. “Tree’s gotta have color.
Needs all kinds of lights and ornaments.”

“You and traditional,” Luke scoffed. “Doesn’t have
to be the same every year. Nothing wrong with something different every long
once in a while.”

Reed opened his mouth and then closed it. Clearly he
was considering the role of mediator instead of leader; the trick was figuring
out how to mediate without taking sides.

Retreating from the tree and its combatants, Carter
accepted a glass of bourbon from Miles. Apple cider was available, hot and
potent, along with homemade eggnog. The ever-present coffee pot and a fruitcake
were also on the sideboard. Miles was eyeing the fruitcake.

Despite the holiday atmosphere, or perhaps because
of it, Lainie felt blue. The season evoked memories of her parents, special
times, special gifts, and made her heart ache. Because of her homesickness—and
the lack of harmony among the decorators—she was observing instead of
participating. She sat at the table, facing the tree, next to Rosalie, who was
on her second cup of hard cider. Nelly sat on the other side of Rosalie, cradling
his cup of the strong drink. Lainie stuck with coffee. She feared she’d end up
a crying drunk if she sampled the cider.

“Don’t think Luke’s going to win this one,” Carter
observed, voice as mild as always. He sat at the end of the table, chair turned
to face the tree. Miles sat on the other side of Lainie, one empty chair between
them.

“Got to agree with you,” Miles said. “Appears our
Randy is growing up. Even Reed backed off.”

“Maybe instead of getting one big tree, you could
get a bunch of small ones,” Rosalie suggested dryly. “Then each man could have
his own.”

Lainie could too easily imagine a row of men, a row
of trees, a row of boxed ornaments, and each man guarding his own. She lowered
her face into her hands and giggled. The laugh felt especially good because of
the heavy mood that had been hanging over her.

“How come you’re not helping?” Rosalie asked Carter.

“Done my share. Melanie and I did up our tree this
past weekend. In red and white, same as Luke wants, and it turned out right
pretty.”

“Don’t you be tellin’ them that,” Nelly warned.
“If’n you do, Mr. Luke won’t never give up, Mr. Randy won’t never back down,
and you ain’t never gonna get this tree done.”

Carter chuckled. “Nary a word, Nelly. I know
better.”

Miles got up and freshened his and Carter’s drinks.
Rosalie watched, but said nothing.

Looking at her, he said, “Yes, ma’am,” and she
smiled. “I’m behaving myself. I get two of these, then later I’ll have a sliver
of that fruitcake over there and wash it down with coffee, and that’ll do me
for the night.”

Once the last strand of lights was in place, Reed
plugged the cord into the wall socket. The audience made appreciative noises,
but he and Randy weren’t happy with the arrangement of lights and began
switching bulbs. Lainie could see this was going to be a long night.

She was also reminded of her mother standing off to
the side, tolerantly watching Walter and Lainie exchanging bulbs until they
reached the harmony they wanted. Her eyes burned. She massaged them,
surreptitiously wiping away the sting.

Although it’d taken a long time for Lainie to make
the decision to talk to her grandfather, the resolve had immediately been there
to carry it through. But she’d had to accept Miles’s edict about postponing
issues he might not appreciate. In one way, she was relieved to defer the
confrontation, yet she also felt stymied and resentful because putting it off
served no constructive purpose.

Here she was, homesick, yet sitting with her
mother’s father. She looked sideways at the family she had left—and found his
gaze on her.

Nelly got up to replenish his cup of cider and
waited patiently in front of Rosalie, giving her a toothless grin while she
tried to decide if she could handle one more cup of the intoxicating drink.
Carter put his bourbon down and went to the boxed ornaments. Luke was still
grumbling, but joined Carter as he investigated boxes. Rosalie gave Nelly a
decisive nod. “Once a year I can indulge,” she told him. And she hiccupped.
“Oh!” She looked scandalized.

Miles’s hand covered his mouth as if to stifle a
laugh. But until then, the gaze he’d leveled on Lainie had held strong emotion.
She’d seen longing in it, and pride and regret. Directed toward her personally,
or was it because of the holiday season, and in memory of the two women now
gone? Each of them, wife and daughter, had been at an age near Lainie’s when
he’d lost them.