It Had to Be Him (12 page)

But then one day, his mother never showed to pick him up from school. The principal had stayed and waited with him until it had become dark, then a stranger came for him and took him to his house. After the apartment manager let them in, the lady who’d picked him up told him to pack a bag of clothes and that he’d never see his mother again because she’d been killed by a man who’d robbed the store where she worked. At six years old he’d become a ward of the state, moving from place to place until he’d ended up at the ranch.

The few memories he still had of his mother were good ones.

He didn’t have many fond memories of the ranch, though, and little desire to relive the painful ones, but he needed to close out the circle. Return to that part of his past and do something good for those boys who were like he’d been. Make a positive out of one of the biggest negatives of his life.

And maybe Charlie would still be around.

Mr. Jennings, the only decent counselor he’d ever had, had seemed genuinely happy to hear from him when Josh had called earlier and mentioned he’d like to lend a hand in some way and that he might stop by if he had time.

So, no more stalling.

Josh climbed into his truck and headed south.

With each mile he traveled closer to the ranch, childhood memories of uncertainty and fear about his future kicked around in his gut. Sometimes he’d make himself so sick with worry it’d bring on another asthma attack. If it hadn’t been for Charlie, he’d never have survived all the years there. So, he’d embrace his current physical discomfort, file it away, then use it for when it was his turn to help some lost kid in return.

After just under two hours, he approached the tiny town near the ranch, noting the stark contrast between it and Anderson Butte. The neglect, the boarded-up shops, the tumbleweeds, and the pothole-lined streets. There was no nearby lake or hotel for tourism. It was just another of the fast-disappearing small towns in northern New Mexico.

Bumping down the narrow excuse for a road, he finally spotted the familiar sideways double Ds seared into the weathered wood that framed the entrance to the Lazy D’s Ranch.

As he pulled up to the main house, a group of boys tending to a broken fence stopped working. Four sets of eyes, all sending him suspicious glares, tracked his progress as he parked and got out of the truck. Newcomers usually brought bad news. Either one
of their friends was being shipped somewhere else or heading off to a trial and they’d never see the kid again. Or it might be a new counselor. Someone twice as mean as the last one.

“Hey, guys.” Josh lifted a hand in greeting as he approached the tatted-up teens. “Mr. Jennings around?”

The biggest kid in the group crossed his inked-up arms over his puffed chest. “Who wants to know?”

There’d been kids just like this one when he’d lived here too. Mr. Tough Shit.

Just as Josh was about to answer, a familiar voice rang out. “Granger? That you?”

When Josh turned around and spotted the man he’d come to see, he smiled. Mr. Jennings didn’t seem so big and imposing anymore; he looked . . . old. Still the same shaggy haircut but with streaks of gray now. What he’d used to think of as arms as big as tree stumps had gone a little flabby with age and his belly had followed along the same path. But the ever-present kindness in his pale-blue eyes hadn’t changed.

“Good to see you again, Mr. Jennings.” Josh held out his hand for a shake, but Mr. J gave him a bear hug.

“Great to see you, Josh.” He released him, then shook his head. “How did a scrawny little kid like you turn out looking like a ripped NFL player?”

Determination to never be the one others picked on ever again. “Just a late bloomer, I guess.”

When Jennings leaned back to study Josh more closely, his eyes grew wide. “What happened to your face?”

“Forgot to duck. How are things around here?”

“About the same.” Mr. Jennings turned to the kids, who were obviously curious but trying to look too cool to care. “Say hello to Mr. Granger, guys. He grew up here too.”

Two of them sneered but the other two lifted their chins in
greeting. After figuring out Josh wasn’t a threat, they all went back to fixing the fence. The big guy told the others what to do while he watched.

Mr. Jennings tilted his head and started walking toward the barn. “There’s a boy I’d like you to meet. Reminds me an awful lot of you.”

Josh wanted to ask about Charlie, but he’d know soon enough if he was still there.

Jennings lowered his voice. “This kid lost his mother in a car accident. Father was a cop killed in the line of duty a few years before his mom died. Eric is older than you were when you first arrived, though. He’s ten. His grandmother is his only relative, but had a stroke and is rehabbing, so she can’t care for him. We’re hoping it’s just temporary. He had a little brother and sister who died in the accident too. Talks about his family in his sleep sometimes. The others tease him for it, as you can imagine.”

It was always harder on the kids who knew what it was like to come from a nice home. Josh didn’t remember the details much, but somehow knew his mom must’ve cared.

Jennings said, “He’s only been here a few months. Hasn’t had time to develop the hard shell, you know? Since school got out for summer he spends all his time out here with Buck, my manager, and the horses. I suspect he’s getting bullied more than he lets on, but whenever I draw him aside and ask, he says he’s fine. I’d appreciate it if you could talk with him. You’d understand better than anyone else.”

“I can try.” The barn needed a coat of stain, but otherwise was just as Josh remembered. Two long rows of stalls, a hayloft, and tack room. Metal feed buckets stacked in the same corner on the dusty earthen floor. All the stalls were empty, their gates standing open. Dust motes hung in the air above the last stall on the end, and the clang of a shovel against a wheelbarrow meant the
mucking out was almost done for the day. He used to hate that part of caring for the horses, but now his hands itched to help.

A skinny, dark-haired kid bobbed his head in time to whatever his earbuds played as he leaned down for the last of the mess.

Mr. J said, “These kids. Pump music into their ears so loud they’ll be deaf by the time they’re twenty. Can’t ever get their attention anymore without scaring the crap out of them.” He tapped on the kid’s shoulder.

The boy’s thin frame stiffened before he slowly turned around, his grip tightening on the shovel. The quick flash of recognition in his eyes had the kid quickly lowering the shovel before he tugged his left earbud out.

“Hi, Mr. J.”

“Hey, Eric. Like you to meet Josh. He used to live here too. He knows his way around horses.”

Eric’s right hand instantly extended for a shake. A kid this polite would struggle with the thugs he’d met earlier.

Just like he had.

He returned the shake. “Nice to meet you, Eric. Can I give you a hand with something?”

Eric shrugged his slight shoulders. “I’m done now, but thank you.”

Mr. J cleared his throat. “Well, in that case, I’m sure Josh would like a look at the stock. Mind showing him around?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Jennings gave Josh a quick eyebrow hitch before he disappeared. It was now his job to try to get the kid to talk.

Josh followed as Eric led him to the pasture behind the barn. There were a few horses nearby, quietly grazing. They all picked up their heads as Josh approached. They scented a stranger in their midst.

Eric climbed up and stood on the second rung of the fence, his eye level even with Josh’s. “So, we have a few boarders. That big
brown one there, the black one, and then the spotted white one. The other two are rescues.”

The rescues were thin and forlorn. “Never understood how people could let a horse suffer like that. Any others?”

Eric nodded. “Yeah. Some out in the far pasture. I’ll go get them a little later.”

“Is Charlie still here?” It was probably ridiculous to think he’d still be here after all this time. The ranch made money by boarding and selling horses. Josh had raised Charlie from a colt, but he’d belonged to Mr. J, so maybe?

“Yeah.” Eric smiled for the first time. “He’s one of my favorites. Mr. J told me he used to come if he was whistled to just right, but I haven’t been able to get him to do it.”

Josh stuck two fingers in his mouth and blew out the long then short whistle he’d trained Charlie with. It wasn’t long before he saw him. A big caramel-colored Arabian thundering toward them at top speed.

Josh’s lips stretched into a big smile as all his trepidation about coming back to the ranch instantly faded away. Amazing that Charlie still remembered the whistle.

Eric laughed. “Wow! That’s awesome.”

Charlie skidded to a halt in front of them. The horse butted Josh’s shoulder as if punishing him for being gone so long.

“Hey, buddy.” Josh gave Charlie a thorough rub. “He looks great, Eric. You’re doing a good job. Ever worked with horses before this?”

Charlie, obviously fond of Eric, moved to the side so the kid could pat him too. “Nope. Buck and Mr. J have been teaching me.”

“It’s easier out here. Away from the others. Right?”

Eric’s response was a shoulder jerk. The pain in the kid’s eyes told him things were worse than he let on.

Josh took out his cell and shot a few pictures of Charlie, and then one of Eric with his arm around Charlie’s neck. “I’ll send you this one.” He tucked his phone away. “You can trust Mr. J. I finally did, and things got a whole lot better for me.”

“You don’t understand. If I say anything, it’ll just get worse.” Eric hopped down from the fence and walked toward the barn.

Josh gave Charlie one last pat, then followed behind. “Mr. J can help you without the others knowing. Schedule your chores at different times from theirs, things like that. You should tell him.”

A fluffy black-and-white puppy scampered in front of Eric, nearly tripping him. Eric quickly scooped the pup up, terror widening his eyes, as two more pups wiggled out from behind the trees.

Pets weren’t allowed. It was hard enough to find the funds to feed the kids and the horses.

Josh leaned down and scooped up a pup. “Who are these little guys?”

“Um. They just showed up one day with their mom. I save half my food for them. I don’t use any of the ranch’s feed.” Eric quickly gathered the puppies and put them back in their hiding place. When he reemerged from behind the trees, he asked, “Are you going to tell?”

Eric was too thin as it was. The last thing he needed was to share his food with the dogs. “Nope. What I’m going to do is go into town and buy plenty of dog chow. Then Mr. J won’t have any reason to make you get rid of them. But in return, you need to tell him what’s going on with the other boys. Deal?”

Eric’s eyes searched Josh’s for the truth. The kid was in a new world, away from his family, just figuring out that sometimes adults lie—or can’t always keep their promises. Eric glanced toward the trees again before he slowly nodded. Eric clearly cared for those puppies. Just as Josh had cared for Charlie.

“Deal.”

Josh laid a hand on Eric’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll get your e-mail address from Mr. Jennings and send that picture of you and Charlie, along with my cell number. Just in case you ever need anything.”

“I’ll be fine.” Eric worried his bottom lip with his teeth. It looked as though he was going to say something else, but then he turned away and mumbled, “Thank you.”

After he disappeared into the trees again, Josh let out a long breath. He couldn’t save all of them—he could only do his best to help whomever would take it.

After getting the promised dog chow, Josh had the long drive home, along with a quick stop for dinner, to give himself a pep talk about staying detached. He’d had no problem doing it as an agent. Surely he could do it with the kids.

He tugged the heavy wooden door open and walked into Brewster’s for the second time that day. He only had a few minutes to spare before he was supposed to meet Meg.

His arrangement with Brewster to hold a dart-throwing contest giving a car away to the first person who could shoot ten bull’s-eyes in a row had its flaws, but if everything went just right, Meg would win a car fair and square and never have to know he was behind it. She was a damned good dart thrower.

He’d whiled away a lot of hours in his solitude working to match her skills. It’d helped pass the time.

When the door closed behind him, he stepped deeper into the packed bar. Loud country music mixed with laughter, and the aroma of fried appetizers filled the air.

As his eyes swept across the dimly lit room, he spotted Meg beside the bar wearing a sexy, soft shirt, tall heels, and tight jeans. She was laughing with Brewster and drinking a beer. He liked that about Meg. That she drank beer, threw darts, and raced Jet Skis, and now he knew she could fly a helicopter too. The perfect woman.

Shouldering his way through the crowd, he moved to the bar. When their eyes met, a little smile started to form on her lips before she caught herself and reined it back. “Hey, Josh. Uncle Brewster has Blue Moon on tap. Want one?”