A Wife in Wyoming (20 page)

Ford straightened up. “Don't worry about that right now. Just get some clothes together for you and Amber, and we'll take you to the ranch.”

Still protesting, Susannah allowed Caroline to assist her in packing up Amber's clothes, plus a bag of toys. As she crossed the threshold of the front door, Nate's mother looked back into the room. “So much for a fresh start,” she said. Then she closed the door behind her and walked away.

* * *

A
S
F
ORD
DROVE
up to the ranch house, Caroline noticed a line of eerie white lights floating across the dark front porch. “What in the world are those?”

Coming closer, she answered her own question. “Oh, yes. The ever-present cell phones.”

Despite the late hour, all of the teenagers had gathered on the porch. “Not one of them would stay in bed,” Garrett explained as she left the truck. “They wanted to wait up till Nate came.” He lowered his voice. “Though none of them would admit that, of course.”

She nodded. “Of course.” Turning toward the kids, she grinned. “Everything is okay, and we're all safe and sound.” Physically, anyway. “So you guys should get to bed and go to sleep.” The usual groans met her announcement. “Yeah, yeah. You're all night owls. But morning will be here before you know it. Nate will be along as soon as he gets his mom and sister settled. Vamoose,” she said, making a shooing motion. “Git along, little doggies.”

Still grumbling, the boys ambled toward the bunkhouse, except for Justino, who walked with Lena in the direction of the cabin.

Lizzie paused as she got to Caroline. “Was there a fight? Did Mr. Ford beat Nate's dad up?”

“No!” A vision of Ford's grim face as he choked Travis Bradley flashed across her mind. “It's really not your business, Lizzie. Go to bed.”

The girl sighed and glanced at Becky beside her. “I always wanted to watch two guys fighting.”

Becky rolled her eyes. “You're weird. Come on, I'm tired.”

“I'll check on you three in a few minutes,” Caroline called, mostly for Lena's benefit, since she and Justino were lingering in the shadows on the side of the cabin. “I'll expect you to be asleep.”

Inside the house, she found Susannah sitting in one of the living room recliners with a mug cupped in her hands. “Hot chocolate,” Garrett explained. “Can I get you a cup?”

“Sounds perfect.” Something warm and sweet might dispel some of the cloud that had been hovering over her all afternoon and evening. But then she saw Ford, sitting forward in the other recliner, his elbows propped on his knees, and knew that no amount of chocolate or ice cream would cure her.

She gave a mental head shake and refocused on the matter at hand. “Did Amber settle in all right?”

Susannah smiled. “She fell asleep on the ride and never woke up. Nate's sitting with her in case she does, but I'm sure she'll sleep till morning.” She pressed her lips together, glancing from Ford to Wyatt, standing in the doorway. “I can't ever thank you enough for taking us in. It's such a huge imposition, just showing up in the middle of the night.”

Wyatt lifted a hand, as if to stop her. “It's not a problem at all.” Caroline had never heard his voice so gentle. “I'm glad we're able to help. If there's anything else we can do, just say the word.”

Nate's mother turned her face away, blinking hard.

Dylan got to his feet. “Want me to walk Nate to the bunkhouse? He's probably dead on his feet.”

“Excellent idea.” Ford stood up, too. “We all could probably use some sleep.”

Caroline stepped forward to put a hand on Susannah's shoulder. “We'll get everything worked out. Just be confident that you and Nate and Amber are safe now.”

“Thank you so much.”

Ford followed as Caroline left the house. They reached the steps of the cabin at the same time as Nate and Dylan reached the bunkhouse. “Everybody where they're supposed to be,” Ford commented. “Some days that's all you can ask.”

Facing him from the bottom step of the porch, she gave an involuntary shiver. “That was scary, for a minute. I wasn't sure who would get hurt.”

“I'm just glad it wasn't you.”

She managed a small smile. “I'm beginning to wonder if you're right, after all.” He waited, a question in his blue eyes. “Maybe some people just can't be saved.”

Ford blew out a breath. “Maybe. But tonight it was three to one.”

She gave him a puzzled look.

He took her hand. “Three people are safe who deserve it, versus the one who probably can't be changed. Pretty decent odds, if you ask me.”

Across the yard, the door to the bunkhouse shut, loud in the quiet night. “Just in case,” Dylan shouted.

Ford rolled his eyes.

Caroline put a hand on his chest, where his heart beat beneath her palm. “Good night,” she said quietly. “Sleep well.”

He touched two fingers to the curve of her cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

She went into the cabin immediately, without watching him walk away. But she was certain that her dreams would be melancholy, just as she knew Ford would hardly sleep at all.

Goodbyes had that effect on people.

* * *

L
ATE
AS
IT
WAS
, Ford couldn't go straight to bed. Too much had happened tonight, and he was too keyed up to rest.

He wasn't the only one who couldn't settle. When he went into the house, he found his older brother in the dining room with insurance papers spread across the top of the table. Honey, of course, had no trouble sleeping and was stretched out on the floor at her master's feet. Snoring.

Wyatt glanced over as he came in. “This is a disaster.”

Ford sat at the opposite end of the mess. “Leave it alone and I'll get to it tomorrow.”

“Because you're the only one with brains?” Anger roughened the deep voice.

“Because I'm used to dealing with corporate crap. What is your problem?” He didn't feel so calm and collected himself.

“I'm tired of people around here treating me like an invalid. I'm not.”

“You should be careful, though, if you want to still be walking when you're eighty.”

“That's another thing. I don't want to be handled like I'm a frail old man. I'm not that, either.”

“No, you're an ornery young man who won't listen to the doctor. Maybe the best thing I can do is leave for California and let you get on with destroying yourself.”

“Maybe so.”

That stung. “Really, you don't have to thank me,” he said sarcastically.

Wyatt shook his head. “We're always glad to have you here. But you don't owe us anything.”

“You were in trouble. What else would I do?”

“Give us a little credit. We would have managed.”

“Right—with seven teenagers on top of a broken back.”

“Maybe the kids wouldn't have come. I generally know my limits. But you rode to the rescue like you're the only one holding things together.”

“I wanted to help.”

Having gotten wound up, the boss barely heard him. “You seem to think that if it weren't for you and that job of yours, the whole damn place would fall to pieces.”

“Not at all. I just want to be sure you don't have to worry about finances. Now or in the future.”

“That's my job, dammit.” Wyatt pushed himself to his feet and walked to the window. “Nobody asked you to go off and make lots of money. If it's what you want to do, well, okay, but we can manage one way or another. Things might not be as fancy, but the ranch will still be working and selling cattle. Dylan might have had to stay here for school, but given some of the attitudes he came home with, that might not have been such a bad thing.”

“Garrett—”

“Garrett is satisfied with his church work. He doesn't need or want more than what he has.”

“So if I quit tomorrow, you would all be just fine.”

“Damn straight.” Wyatt snorted a laugh. “Better, even, because we might get our brother here where he belongs.”

Ford planted his elbows on the table and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “What am I supposed to do?” He sounded like a little kid. He expected his brother to respond with an insult.

Instead, Wyatt's tone was kind. “Make your life what you want it to be, where you want it to be.” He paused a few seconds. “With those you care about.”

Words failed him. He didn't dare look up.

“You can't control other people. You can only make choices for yourself.” After a silence, he walked close enough to put a hand on Ford's shoulder. “I'm going to bed. See you guys tomorrow.”

As his footsteps retreated down the hallway, Ford dropped his hands into his lap and sat staring at nothing. He hadn't felt this confused in years—not since his dad died, and he didn't know what was going to happen to the four of them. He'd lived under a black cloud of worry for an entire decade. And he'd sworn never to experience that uncertainty again.

Today, in many ways, he faced the same dilemma. What would happen to his brothers if he left the big-money job? If he came home and built a different life?

Caroline might be willing to take the risk. His brothers, too.

But
, Ford wondered,
am I?

* * *

F
ORD
SPENT
A
lot of the day Saturday in his truck. He left just after breakfast, to catch Wade Daughtry while he was still on duty. Beside him, Marcos sulked in the passenger seat.

“I'm sorry to have to take you home,” Ford told the boy. “But you crossed the line once too often.”

Marcos shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever.”

“Do your parents know you're coming?”

“Like they care.”

“Would you want to come back to the ranch?”

He caught the quick glance Marcos sent in his direction. But the mask stayed in place. “Nah. It's lame.”

“Okay.” Ford didn't say anything else until he pulled to a stop in front of the address Caroline had given him. “If you decide you want to try again, you could call, say after a week or so. Caroline might be persuaded to let you return to the program.”

“Yeah, right.” Marcos dropped out of the truck and pulled out his duffel. “I'll think about it,” he said quickly before slamming the door shut and trudging toward the house. Ford made sure the boy got inside before driving off, feeling more like an executioner than an executive.

He found Wade at the sheriff's office in Bisons Creek and together they visited the Family Crisis Center in Buffalo, picking up paperwork to petition for a protection order. Back at the Circle M, they entered the house to be hit with the heavenly aroma of breakfast cooking.

Wyatt sat at the kitchen table with a full plate in front of him. Susannah turned from the stove as Ford came through the door. “What can I make you to eat?”

“I'm good, thanks. I ate with the kids. Wade, you need a working man's breakfast, don't you?”

“I'll have what he's having.” The deputy sat down across from Wyatt and tucked into the plate Susannah made for him. While he ate, she went into the dining room with Ford to fill out forms.

“We'll keep visiting judges until we get one to sign an order,” he promised her. “Then Wade will deliver it personally to Travis.”

Susannah drew a deep breath. “Will he obey the order?”

“For his own sake, he'd better.”

“Or I'll track him down,” Wade said, coming in to join them. “That's a violation I don't require your permission to arrest him for.”

They left Susannah cleaning up the kitchen and got into the truck, heading for the nearby ranch of Judge Raymond. “He's a good ol' boy,” Wade said. “I'm expecting him to make the process quick.”

But Judge Raymond wasn't home. The next three people they tried were also out of town. “Must be a judges' convention in Vegas.” Ford grinned. “Wouldn't that be a sight?”

Wade shook his head. “I don't want to think about it.”

During a late lunch at Kate's, they were served by the owner herself. “I hear you're turning tail and running to the coast,” she said to Ford, letting his plate clatter as she set it down. “I expected better of you than that.”

He winced and looked at Wade to find an expression of distress on the deputy's face. “You're leaving? Man, I had no idea.”

“I have a job,” Ford declared. “Remember?”

Kate frowned, and Wade shook his head. The remainder of their lunch passed in silence. They drove to the fifth judge's ranch and found him at home, but without the necessary papers to issue the restraining order. So they headed back to Buffalo, with Wade not volunteering a word on the way.

“I'll wait for the judge to get here,” he said, finally, when Ford parked at the sheriff's office. “I can bring a copy out to Susannah tomorrow, once I've served the order.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Ford was all too aware of his time ticking away. That 6:00 p.m. Sunday flight kept getting closer. He'd barely seen Caroline all day. Would it be easier to leave if he kept his distance? Or should he grab every minute to remember?

Wade stared at him through the open driver's window. “I understand you're not a criminal lawyer out in California. But we sure could use somebody honest here. I doubt it would take you long to get up to speed.” He put up a hand to keep Ford from interrupting. “I'm just saying...” He pivoted on his heel and went into the sheriff's offices without so much as a wave.

Ford left the window down as he drove toward the Circle M, letting the Wyoming wind blow the cobwebs out of his brain. He hadn't slept much, and the business of the day had been a challenge. Right now he needed a clear head and a sharp focus. The next few minutes would decide the rest of his life.