Lonestar Sanctuary (4 page)

"I could use a jump," she said. She kept her voice cool. Rattletrap
indeed. Maybe it was, but the comment held too much contempt for
her liking.

"Hop in."

Her trust would only go so far. "We'll meet you down there. Who
are you, anyway?"

His sigh was loud and exasperated. "Look, lady, I'm not an ax murderer. Just get in the truck, and I'll give you my resume later."

Betsy shrank back at his harsh voice and buried her face in Allie's
waist.

Instantly, the man squatted. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm not mad." Betsy
peeked at him from between her fingers, and he smiled. He stood and
put his hands in his pockets. "It's not safe to walk out here by yourself.
I'll let you drive my truck back and I'll walk."

"How about you ride in the back and let me drive?" Allic didn't
think he'd agree, but she didn't feel right about making him walk.

If only Jon were here.

"Okay." He tossed her the keys and strode to the pickup's rear,
where he put one boot onto the wheel well and vaulted into the back.

The guy was a mountain. Allie didn't like big men. They made her
feel even smaller than she already was and more inept.

She stared at the keys in her hand and forced a smile. "Let's go get
our truck, Bets." She opened the driver's-side door, and Betsy climbed in, then scooted across the seat. Allie slid inside after her daughter.
Nice wheels. The vehicle wasn't new, but he'd taken good care of it.
Its gray interior didn't hold a speck of dirt.

She started the truck, turned around, and drove back toward her
pickup. The headlights picked out the silhouette. When she reached it,
she angled the man's vehicle so the headlights shone on her hood.

The man jumped out and opened the hood of his truck, then
fiddled with something inside. She watched him walk around to her
truck and open the driver's door. She thought she'd locked it. No,
only Betsy's door, she remembered.

She got out to help. Only one boot showed under her open driver's door. The battery clicked, then he exited the vehicle.

"Lady, you're out of gas," he said with a disgusted thrust to his lip.
"Don't you have any sense at all? Dragging a kid out into the middle
of nowhere without gas, putting her in a nest of bumblebees, and not
even taking any water with you."

He had no idea what she'd been through. Stiffening her back, she
stared at the man until he looked down.

"Sorry, it's none of my business," he said.

"No, it's not. We're on our way to Bluebird Youth Ranch. Is it close?"

His head came up at the mention of the ranch. "I work at the ranch.
It's just a mile down the road. We weren't expecting any visitors."

"I know. I've come a long way to talk to someone there." Two men
actually, but he didn't need to know the details. If she had the nerve,
she'd ask him if he knew Rick Bailey, the foreman.

The surly man stalked to his pickup and flipped down the tailgate.
Tight-lipped, he stalked back with a gas can in his hand. He drained it
into the gas tank, then went back to his truck. Revving his engine, he
called out the window, "Try it now."

Allie ran to the truck and slid under the wheel. "Please, please
start," she muttered under her breath. She cranked the engine. It
ground slowly, then picked up speed and turned over. It was running
so rough that the truck shook, but at least it would go.

"Come on, Bets," she called. Betsy ran to get into the passenger
seat.

The man's pickup pulled away, the tires spitting sand and dust.
Allie dropped the transmission into drive and followed him. The
blackness of night cloaked the land as she followed him into a wide
dirt lane, hard and packed from the weight of vehicles. At a distance,
the lights of the house and four outbuildings shone a welcome, and
Allie felt the weight of fatigue press heavier.

So this was the Bluebird Ranch. Even the name had intrigued her
when her mother talked about it. A longing for home and family rose,
and she squelched it. She had to stay focused.

Surely they wouldn't turn her away tonight.

The man switched off his engine and walked back to her truck.
"I'll take you to Elijah. He's probably in the barn. Cupcake is about to
foal. Come with me."

Grabbing Betsy's hand, Allie leaped from the truck and followed
the man's long steps toward a big white barn. It had a hipped roof, and
white paddocks stretched as far as she could see in the moonlight. The
last building was a hangar that held a small plane.

"Who's the pilot?" she asked, pointing to the plane.

"I am. The distances are so great out here, it makes sense to fly
when we can."

A border collie, tail wagging, came to meet them. The animal rose
on its hind legs without touching either of them. The joyous expression of the dog's excitement brought a smile to Betsy's face.

"Nice dog." Allie said, pausing to pet the collie. "Male or female?"

"Jem's a male. Don't spoil him. He's a herd dog."

"He's gorgeous." With a last pat, she and Betsy followed the man.

The good scent of horses and hay lifted her fatigue when they
stepped into the barn. The man led them to the back, where they
found a short, sinewy old guy tending to a laboring horse. The bay
mare was down in the straw, and the man had her head on his lap. His
brown skin was leathered with age and sun, but when the dark eyes
under the cowboy hat met her own, she saw a depth of love and compassion that made her feet move toward him.

This was Elijah? She tried to hide her curiosity but was unable to
look away. She hadn't known he existed until her mother died.

His stare seemed a bit intense for just having met, then his gaze
settled on Betsy, and his face softened even more. "Hello, nina. Do
you like horses? We're going to have a colt soon."

Betsy nodded, her gaze locked with the old man's. Allie's hope
surged. Betsy's face held more interest than she'd seen in a year. The
little girl stepped forward with her hand out, then pulled it back.

"You can pet her." Elijah's voice was gentle.

Betsy knelt and touched the mare's nose. The horse blew her
breath into Betsy's hand, and she scrambled back. A huge yawn
erupted from her mouth.

Mr. DeAngelos nodded to the corner. "It will be a long night.
There are blankets for the nina. You both look tired."

"Want to lay in the hay, Bets?" Allie wouldn't have minded curling
up in that soft mound herself.

Betsy nodded. Allie led Betsy to the hay in the corner and sat her
down with a blanket over her lap. Dust motes danced into the air
when the little girl rustled in the mound. Betsy kept her gaze fas tened on the horse, but her lids drooped, and Allie knew it wouldn't
be long before she would be asleep. Then she could make their case
to the old man.

And then she would find Rick Bailey.

Elijah glanced up at the other man. "Rick, would you get us some
hot coffee? The stuff in the kitchen has been sitting there since morning, so brew some fresh."

Rick. Allie sank into the straw next to Betsy. How could Jon have
told her to come to this tight-lipped man for help? The only assistance
he'd give would be to escort her right out of here.

RICK MUTTERED UNDER HIS BREATH AS HE STRODE ACROSS THE YARD TO
the ranch house. Jem did his little air dance at Rick's side, then stopped
at the front door when he went inside. Women like that one gave the
word mother a bad rap. Some just weren't born with a maternal instinct.

She had only been thinking of herself.

And what was wrong with the kid? Betsy hadn't said a word.
Something weird going on there, and it was likely the mom's fault.
Everyone that pretty had entitlement problems anyway. She wasn't
much bigger than a kid herself, and she'd probably used her tiny
stature and big blue eyes to her advantage.

He was going to advise Elijah to get rid of her as soon as he could.

He stepped into the kitchen and threw together some sandwiches while the coffee brewed. He put them in a knapsack along with some
apples and bottles of water. The most he would do is feed them. After
pouring coffee into a thermos, he started back to the barn.

To give Elijah and the woman more time to talk, he stopped at the
smaller barn to check on the horse they'd hauled back this morning.
Scooping up the sweet feed mixture, he offered the mare another
handful. The dull eyes looked at him, then her teeth nibbled at his
palm. She was far from out of the woods.

The wind changed and brought the odor of manure to his nose. He
winced as memories of another stench washed over him.

He was back in Fallujah, moving past puddles of raw sewage running in the streets. Joking with his buddy Jon and tossing pennies at
the children who ran shouting and laughing beside them.

At one time, he'd thought to save the world. Right now, saving this
horse would make him happy.

ELIJAH RUBBED THE MARE'S BELLY. "MY FOREMAN IS NOT AS GRUFF AS
he seems."

Allie didn't believe the old man, though she wished she could.
Allie glanced at Betsy. She was asleep. Now was the time.

She wet her lips. "I've come a long way to talk to you, Mr.
DeAngelos."

He held up his hand. "Please, call me Elijah." He nodded to Betsy.
"The niiia has been hurt."

Allie nodded. "My name is Allie Siders, and this is my daughter,
Betsy." The old man made a sudden movement, and she stopped. "Is
anything wrong?"

"No, no, continue."

Was it her imagination or had he paled? She hoped he didn't have
some kind of heart condition. When he didn't move, she went on.
"She hasn't talked for a year. I've taken her to therapist after therapist,
and there's been no change. I've tried everything I know to help her.
You're my last hope." Especially now that she knew she'd rather die
than ask Rick Bailey for anything.

"How did you hear about us?"

She hesitated. How could she explain without telling all? "One of
your hired hands came to a rodeo I worked in El Paso. He told me about
this place. I had to try it." She decided to see if she could get a reaction
out of him. "I found a scrapbook about this place in my mama's things."

"Your mother? She stayed here?"

Allie nodded. "Her stage name was Anna Morgan." Something
seemed to shift in the room when she said the name, but everyone
reacted that way.

"The barrel racer?"

"Yes."

"She is dead now, killed in a plane crash."

Allie took a deep breath. It had been the worst day of her life. "A
year ago.

Her mother had been as beautiful and flamboyant as a flamenco
dancer. Her half-Hispanic blood was further diluted in Allie, who had
her father's blue eyes and calm temperament. Her mother brought
passion and excitement to everything she did, and Allie's life seemed
to be lived in dull black and white since her mama's death.

She studied his impassive face. Did he know his Selena had changed
her name and become famous? Until Allie found the scrapbook and
began the research, she thought her grandparents were dead. She found
no evidence the old man knew he was her grandfather.

"You are hurting too, mujercita. What happened to you and the niiia?"

He'd called her "little woman," and she drew herself up to her full
five foot two. "It's Betsy I'm worried about. She's been like this for a
year, and I've tried everything. I don't have any money to pay you, but
I'll work. I know horses. I've grown up in the rodeo. I can cook, clean,
anything you need." She rushed on, certain he would refuse when he
found out she had nothing.

He didn't have to know she'd sold everything her horse, her new
car. She had some pride left.

"I was once a bronco buster," Elijah said. Then his gaze shifted as
the horse groaned, and the hay darkened with fluid. "Ali, our foal is
coming. Sleep. There will be time to talk tomorrow."

Allie squatted beside him. "I can help you."

"Cupcake is an experienced mother. She'll do it all herself."

"I'll wait with you then." If she could show how much she knew
about horses, maybe he'd find her a job. It was no secret Rick Bailey
wouldn't be in favor of that. But Betsy needed Allie to do this. Though
Elijah couldn't help the other things that threatened them, if he could
heal Betsy, it would be enough.

Elijah lifted the mare's head enough to ease away. He stood back
and watched the horse labor.

Rick came back in carrying a coffee thermos and Styrofoam cups.
A knapsack was slung around his shoulder. He set the cups on a bale
of hay and poured out a cup of coffee. Digging in his jeans, his hand
came up with small containers of creamer. He still hadn't said a word.

"Thanks."Allie accepted two creamers and dumped them into her
coffee. The aroma made her mouth water. Then the hot liquid filled
her empty stomach. She'd been hoarding the last of her money to
make sure Betsy had enough food and hadn't eaten herself since breakfast, part of an omelet in a greasy spoon at nine this morning.
Even then, she hadn't eaten until Betsy was full.

Rick slipped the knapsack off his shoulder and unzipped it. "Turkey
sandwiches," he said, handing her the sandwich wrapped in plastic.
"There's fruit in here too." He handed her an apple.

Maybe he had some compassion to spare for adults after all. Allie
smiled at him, but he still hadn't looked her in the eye.

"Let me see if Betsy wants some first."

"There's plenty for you both," Rick said. "And more where that
came from. Let her sleep."

He was right, but Allie felt wrong to eat when her daughter might
be hungry. A peek in the knapsack reassured her. There were two more
sandwiches in it, and four apples. She took a cautious bite. Relishing
the hot sting of horseradish on her tongue, she devoured the sandwich.

Food had never tasted so good.

She swallowed the last sweet bite of apple and looked up to find
both men watching her. "Thanks," she said, clamping her lips against
the explanation that pressed against her teeth.