Firelight at Mustang Ridge (21 page)

“Are they going to get a d-divorce?”

Danny closed her eyes, wishing she had an answer. “I don't know, Sonja.” When that didn't seem like nearly enough, she added, “But I do know one thing for sure. They both love you very much. And that's never going to change, no matter what happens.”

She kept rocking, kept soothing, lost track of the time it took for Sonja's tears to fade to hiccups, and from there to steady breathing. “You're okay,” she whispered into the child's sweaty, dusty hair. “It's going to be okay.” One way or the other.

“Danny?” Sam called. “How's it going in there?”

“I'm fine. We're fine.”
Getting there, anyway
.

“Can you come on out? There's someone out here who wants to talk to Sonja.”

Figuring that Kevin was probably getting anxious—either to see his sister or take his turn in the cave, Danny groped around, found the flashlight, and clicked it back on. “What do you think?” she asked, her voice steady though her lungs ached like she had run a marathon in the space of ten minutes. “You ready to get out of here?”

Sonja eased back, blinking reddened eyes. “O-kay.” Again, a whisper. “Kevin misses me.”

Thinking it was good that the kids had each other, Danny said, “Let's go see him, and you can give him a good nyah-nyah because you were in here first.”

That got a small, wobbly smile that made her feel like a million bucks.

The trip out was far easier than the way in, especially when Sonja went from a belly crawl to a sudden blur and shot out of the tunnel, hollering, “Mommy! Daddy!”

With her out of the way, Danny could see the kids' parents standing near the cave mouth, looking strained and awkward, but standing closer together than before.

“Sonja!” Mindy went down on her knees and caught her daughter in a fierce hug. Moments later, Declan crouched beside them and put his arms around his wife and daughter with Kevin sandwiched in the middle, in a whole-family hug that had Danny's heart swelling in her chest.

“I'm sorry.” Declan's voice was rough with emotion. “I'm so sorry you guys saw that, and that it got to this point. I don't want to be like this with you and your mom. Not anymore.”

Mindy nodded against his throat, eyes wet. “We're going to fix things,” she told the kids, sniffling as she said it. “We promise. We love you and we love each other, and that's all that matters.”

“Ohh,” Danny breathed, her chest tightening with hope.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam's face appeared suddenly at the end of the tunnel, and his hands reached for her. “Come on. Let's get you out here.” He pulled her the rest of the way out, and then into a hard hug that
squeezed the air out of her lungs. “I can't believe you did that,” he said into her hair. “You're incredible!”

It didn't matter that she couldn't breathe, couldn't even really move. She burrowed into him, her pulse throbbing as it hit her—not just that Mindy and Declan had had the breakthrough they so badly needed, but that she had just conquered the fear monster. “I did, didn't I?” She levered herself away to grin up at Sam. “I did it!”

He lowered his head and kissed her in celebration, his lips avid and ardent on hers, and blocking out all rational thought. It suddenly didn't matter that the others were right there, or that this was her job, as informal as it might be. What mattered was the way they fit together and the heady knowledge that he hadn't tried to fix things for her. He had stood back and let her fix them for herself.

She had come to Wyoming to find herself, and she had done that. But she had found something very special with him, too.

*   *   *

Friday afternoon, as the rockhounds crested Mustang Ridge and headed down into the valley, where the ranch spread out pretty as a picture and distant horses whinnied a welcome, the mood was high. Each saddlebag contained a stone or two; Jon was making plans to head home with Abel and Maura to meet his bio-mom; and Declan and Mindy rode close, with their heads tipped together as they talked and talked, as if a dam had broken between them.

As prospecting trips went, Sam figured they had
done just fine. And as Reunion Weeks went, they had struck gold.

“See down there by the lake?” Danny asked Sonja and Kevin. “Where all that wood is piled up? That's for the bonfire we're going to have tonight. And the smoke there is from the barbecue. Gran and Dory have probably been cooking all day, getting ready for the party. We're going to have pulled pork, chicken, burgers, the works . . . and then, once it's dark and the bonfire is going, we'll toast marshmallows and learn some line dances.”

Face alight, Kevin reined his horse around. “Mom! Dad! Did you hear that?” When they didn't answer immediately, he sent his horse back toward them, with Sonja and her pony tagging doggedly behind, the little girl calling, “Ke-vin, wait for meeee!”

Sam chuckled and nudged Yoshi up beside Danny's docile bay gelding. “I used to think it must be a drag, having to get excited for the same big send-off barbecue-slash-bonfire each week and trying to act like it was new and different.”

Her lips curved. “And now?”

“Now I figure the whole guest routine is far more like prospecting than I realized. You might find two pockets right next to each other, might even find the same kind of crystals inside. But everything else is going to be different—the clusters, the way they come out of the ground, the way they polish up . . . No two gem deposits are ever going to be identical, and I'm never going to get tired of mining them.”

She knocked her boot against his, in the mounted
version of bumping him with her shoulder or squeezing his hand. “That's exactly the way I feel. Every tour group is different because the people are different. Sure, some are more fun than others, but that's life. If I hadn't been leading tours out of Mustang Ridge, I would have missed getting to know some really interesting people, and I wouldn't have gotten to see their faces when they saw their first eagle or ate their first wild berry.”

“Or found their first piece of aquamarine.”

“Exactly! And next year, I'll have even more variety. Six adventure treks with Mustang Ridge, six that I'll be leading for the Card Sharps' Inn, at least two for the tourism bureau.” She ticked them off on her fingers, her face alight. “I've already started doing the research on old-timey gambling in the area, and brainstorming some new themes. How does Wagon Train Walk sound, or Railroader's Ramble?”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, beyond adorable. Giving her a boot knock in return, he said, “They sound spot-on. Mark my words, Wyoming Walkabouts is going to be a huge success.”

She twinkled over at him. “That's nice to hear, especially since you're not the slightest bit biased.”

“Maybe I am, but I'm also darn good at seeing a whole lot of stones and picking out the rough gems.”

“Are you saying I need polishing?” she challenged.

He dropped his reins to hold up both hands, trusting Yoshi to follow the other horses through the big gate into the ranch proper. “Hey, we're talking about Wyoming Walkabouts here. As far as you're concerned, there isn't a thing I would change.”

“Ha! Good save.” But she was grinning at him as they came around the corner of the barn into the parking lot. There, barn staffers were helping the guests down from their horses, and several of the other guests—the ones who had opted for cattle roping rather than rock hunting—were waiting to see what the prospectors had found. Danny guided her mount to a clear spot and swung down, saying over her shoulder, “I think you're right, though. I've got a really good feeling about—” She broke off, her expression going slack as her boots hit the ground. “Oh. My. God.”

Sam stiffened. “What?” Not seeing any reason for the sudden horror in her voice and on her face, he scanned the horizon. “Do you see smoke? A fire?”

But her attention was fixed on a man and a woman standing some distance away from the other guests, waving at her. “No,” she said in a dire tone. “It's my parents.”

“D
anny!” Bea Traveler flapped her Red Sox cap, startling a snort out of the horse nearest her. “Over here!”

Danny almost couldn't process the sight of her parents standing there, so out of their normal context, but hard on the heels of shock came a rush of emotion. “Oh! What are you . . . How did you . . . I can't believe this!” She took a step toward them, then realized she was still holding her horse.

Out of nowhere, Wyatt stepped up. “How about I take the horses?”

She didn't ask whether he had known they were coming—was this a setup, or had her parents just crashed the Mustang Ridge party? She didn't dare ask, not right now. She just tossed her reins, grabbed Sam's hand, and said, “Come on!”

There was no point in asking if he wanted to meet her parents when they were standing thirty feet away.

“Mom!” she said as they drew near, “Dad! I can't believe you're here.”

“They wouldn't refund the ticket,” Bea Traveler said briskly, her eyes going to Sam. “Who is this?”

And that was it, Danny thought. Her own big reunion for the week. No giddy squeals, no happy tears, not even a
Hi, sweetie, you look great
. But that didn't mean she had to play the same game, so she stepped up and hugged her mom. “I missed you.” She didn't get much of a return clasp before she moved on to her dad. “This is such a nice surprise!”

He hugged her back, and his eyes held a hint of amusement when he drew away. “Is it?”

“Of course.” She stepped aside. “Mom, Dad, this is Sam Babcock. Sam, these are my parents, Bea and Harris Traveler.”

Her father gave him an up-and-down. “And you are . . .”

“Very fond of your daughter,” Sam said, settling an arm around her shoulder. “It's a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Danny never mentioned she was seeing someone.”

Flushing, she looked sidelong at Sam. “I didn't want it to sound like I was moving so I could stay with him.”

“Are you?” her mother asked.

“No.” Saying it put a twist in her belly, though. Not wanting to examine that too closely, she added, “Why don't we go for a walk? I'll show you around and we can talk.”

“Do you want company?” Sam's quiet offer came in an undertone, and his eyes were steady on hers. His expression said
I'm here if you need me,
but he didn't push. Once again he was there to back her up, not fix things for her.

She went up on her toes and brushed her lips across
his. “Thanks, but I need to do this myself. See you later, at the barbecue?”

“I'll save you a seat.”

“Save three.” One corner of her mouth kicked up. “I'm going to do my best to get them on my side.” Not because she was afraid they would try to force her onto a plane headed back east, but because she didn't want to fight. She might not totally get her parents, and vice versa, but life was too short, too fragile, for her to take her family for granted. “Come on,” she said, turning back to them and gesturing toward the trail she and the others had just ridden down. “Let's take a walk. From up on top of the ridge, it's like you can see forever.”

*   *   *

Of course, it was one thing for Danny to decide she was going to convince her parents that she was making the right decision, but quite another to actually
do
it. They had barely made it through the outer fence line before her father said, “So . . .” then let it trail off.

It was his favorite interrogation technique, and had long worked with her and Charlie, who invariably filled the silence.

“It's pretty up here, don't you think?” She looked west, to where the sun was just kissing the distant mountains. “Can you imagine the guts it must've taken to claim a homestead up here back in the eighteen hundreds? That's how Mustang Ridge got its start—Jenny and Krista's great-great-whatever grandparents built a little log cabin and bought some cattle. By the time the market started dying off, Mustang Ridge was one of the biggest cattle stations in the state. Now, thanks to Krista, it's one of the most successful dude ranches.”
Turning to her father, appealing to his love of good business, she added, “The tourist industry is trending up, fast. There's room for an outfit like mine.”

“You don't have a company yet,” her mother pointed out. “Just some ideas.”

“But they're good ideas.” As they neared the top of the hill, she laid out her plan point by point, like she had done at the tourism council meeting last week. She finished by saying, “I already have a dozen trips booked for next summer, and that's not even scratching the surface.” Reaching the marker stones, she stopped and looked out toward Blessing Valley. “And, really, you can't tell me this isn't heaven on earth.”

Barely glancing at the rolling, sun-toasted fields, her father turned to face her. “We're not saying it's a bad idea, sweetie. But if you want to lead hikes, why not do it from the shop?”

Because it's your shop. And it's in Maine
. But she didn't want to hurt them; she just wanted them to understand, or at least try to see her position.

Before she could think of another angle to try, though, her father said, “About this Sam . . .”

“He's a good man, Daddy. He makes me happy. But he's not the reason I'm staying.”

“You're still shaky,” her mom said, “still having nightmares. Of course you'd look for someone strong to—”

“Don't,”
Danny said, the word coming out harder than she meant it to. Blowing out a breath, she said, “I'm sorry. I know this is probably hard for you to believe, but Sam really doesn't have much to do with my decision. I like it here. I like who I am here.”

“You should talk to someone,” her mother insisted. “A sports psychologist, maybe. Or, what was her name? Farah?”

“You're not listening,” Danny said. “I don't need more therapy, physical or otherwise.” She would tell Farah, of course—they were friends, and it was thanks to Farah's gentle nudging that she had wound up at Mustang Ridge. But she wanted to make all her decisions first, on her own. “This isn't a democracy, Mom. It's my life, and I'm calling the shots.”

Bea sniffed. “It sounds like you're not open to discussing this. I don't know why we came all this way.”

Me, neither
. Jamming her hands in her pockets, Danny said, “Do you have someplace to stay?”

“We had a room at this little motel about a half hour away, but when the head chef—Gran, is it?—heard that we had come looking for you, she insisted on us staying in one of the guest rooms at the main house.”

“That sounds like Gran.” She had probably thought she was doing Danny a favor. And under other circumstances, she would have been. This wasn't working, though. It might never work—her parents were so convinced that they knew what was best for her, they couldn't see beyond what she had looked like right after the accident. Which came from love, she knew, and concern. But that didn't make it any easier to bear. Dashing away a tear prickle, she said, “We should head back down. You won't want to miss the barbecue.”

The return trip passed in the silence of a whole lot of things left unsaid.

*   *   *

By the time the barbecue was well under way at the pimped-out gazebo, with Dory and Gran manning the buffet and the guests sitting at scattered picnic tables to plow happily through their piled-high plates, Sam was getting edgy waiting for Danny.

“Go on.” Wyatt elbowed him. “Go find her already.”

“She doesn't want me butting in.”

“So? That's what guys do.” Wyatt grinned. “At least that's what Krista tells me when I get it wrong.”

Movement near the barn drew Sam's attention, and he blew out a breath. “There they are.” The sight wasn't entirely a relief, though, because Danny's jaw was set and she walked several steps ahead of her parents. He stood and crossed over to her, then gripped her shoulder, because he had a feeling that if he did more she might shatter in front of all the guests, and she would hate that. “Tell me what I can do.”

“There's nothing. But thanks.” He didn't like the hollow defeat in her voice, but her shoulders were square, and when she turned toward her parents, there was a smile on her face. “Come on in, you two. I'll introduce you to Krista and Wyatt, and we can grab some food.”

Pride kicked deep in Sam's gut. She wasn't giving up, wasn't giving in. But standing her ground was taking its toll.

“Sit,” he said, leading her to an empty picnic table. “Give yourself a minute. I'll get you a plate.” To her parents, he said, “If you'll follow me, I'll do a couple of introductions, and we can load up on some of Gran's famous pulled pork and biscuits.”

They hesitated, looking from him to her and back
again before nodding and following him. He hadn't gone more than a few steps before Danny's father said, “So, Sam. About you and my daughter . . .”

“Danny is a wonderful woman,” he answered, turning to meet the other man's eyes. “She's smart, warm, caring, and funny, and she's one of the bravest people I know. Did she tell you about how she saved the day by climbing up into the rafters of a half-built barn and fixing the electrical connection? She had to be thirty feet in the air.”

“That's nothing for my girls,” Bea said. But then she added, more softly, “She didn't tell us.”

Taking that as an invitation, Sam launched into the story, giving them the background on Gabe and Winny Sears, and how the community had come together to help get them on their feet. He didn't know if there was any hope of changing Bea's and Harry's minds about Mustang Ridge, but it looked as if it was going to be a long night.

*   *   *

Later on, with the bonfire lighting the darkness and music playing from the gazebo, Danny got a lesson in toasting the perfect marshmallow.

“Like this.” Kevin concentrated on hovering his stick a consistent height above the flickering flames while rolling it between his palms. “You gotta keep it moving, or it'll burn.”

She felt bad abandoning Sam with her too-quiet parents—they weren't far, only on the other side of the fire, but the distance felt greater. She had needed a minute of peace, though. And considering how the rest of her day had gone, a cooking lesson from a nine-year-old totally counted. “You don't like yours burnt?” she asked him.

He scrunched up his face. “Not for s'mores. The burnt part makes the chocolate taste funny.”

“Gotcha.” Withdrawing her stick from the fire, she held out her marshmallow. “How does this one look?”

He leaned in for a careful inspection, then nodded. “That's a good one. Now you take a graham cracker and a piece of chocolate . . .” He walked her through the procedure, which involved making sure the crackers and chocolate were perfectly parallel, then okayed her to take a bite.

It was too sweet and coated her mouth with sugar, but she grinned. “Best one I ever had.”

“Me!” Sonja piped up, reaching for Kevin's stick. “I'm next.”

“Yes, you are.” Declan scooped her neatly into his lap and produced a marshmallow-loaded stick as if by magic. “Here, help me hold it just right. Kevin? Do you want to show me how you got it to twist like that, so it cooks all even?”

Smiling, Danny returned to the other side of the blaze and settled back into the chair between Sam and her parents. She bought herself a few extra seconds by finishing her s'more and then licking the stickiness off her fingers, just like she had back when she was a kid and she and Charlie had competed to see whose marshmallow burned the longest. “Well,” she said, feeling the strain already creeping back. “I think I'm officially an expert marshmallow toaster.”

Sam caught her hand and squeezed, warming her with his continued support.

“So you do this every week?” her mom asked.

“The ranch does,” Danny answered, trying—and
failing—to interpret her mother's expression. “I try to make it as often as possible, especially when I've gotten close to some of the guests.” She nodded over at Kevin and Sonja. “Like them. They're good kids.”

“And they owe you more than they'll ever realize,” Mindy said from behind her. Fabric rustled and she came around in front of Danny, her boots sinking into the soft lakeshore sand as she crouched down in front of Sam, Danny, and her parents. “I wanted to thank you for what you did for Sonja. And I wanted to say that if you ever need anything—and I mean anything—you call us.”

“No, Mindy.” Danny leaned forward and caught the other woman's hands. “There's no obligation, truly. Anybody else there would have done the same thing. She just picked me, that's all.”

“Maybe that's true, but it wouldn't have been as hard for the others as it was for you, would it?”

Flushing, Danny said, “Krista told you.”

“I saw your face when you came out of that tiny little cave. I knew there had to be a story.”

“I'm sorry,” Bea said, puzzled. “What are we talking about here? What cave?”

“Oh!” Mindy's face lit up. “You didn't hear how your daughter saved the day for my little Sonja?” She launched into the story, fumbling a bit when it came to describing the fight between her and Declan, then making Danny sound like she had kicked into superhero mode, swooping down and spiriting Kevin and Sonja away from the fight, and then lighting the crystal cave with her UV-laser eyes.

Okay, not really. But Mindy gave her way too much
credit. “Like I said,” Danny protested, “I just did what any of the others would have, if Sonja had asked them to take her into the cave.”

“But she asked you,” Mindy insisted. “And you came through for her.”

“She did,” Sam agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “She did us all proud. Better yet, she did herself proud.”