Lonestar Angel (24 page)

Clay wished he could smile at the memory of her shock, but his own had been too great. There she was, about to accept another man’s proposal. “I’d always known where she was, but my stupid pride wouldn’t let me chase her. I found her in the middle of a marriage proposal.”

“But she was still married to you?”

“Yep. But she didn’t know it. She’d signed the papers and didn’t realize the final decree hadn’t been issued. Her attorney had a heart attack and never followed up after he got back to work.”

“Hoo-ee, you mean this was one of those scenes like in the movies? You showed up and told her the happy news?”

“At least I got there before she actually said yes.” Clay managed a weak smile.

“Bet that was a shock when she saw you.”

“I thought she might faint. But I’ll give her this—the minute she heard Brianna was still alive, she didn’t hesitate. She walked away from the guy and never looked back.”

Rick stretched out his legs. “What about him?”

“He let her go. Seemed to think finding Brianna was the best thing for her to focus on.”

“So what’s the problem? She’s resistant to trying again?”

“Bull’s-eye on your first guess, my friend. I’m working on it, though.”

“My wife is pretty perceptive,” Rick said. “She said the other day that it warmed her heart to see the way the two of you look at each other.”

Clay wanted to cling to that encouragement, to hope Eden held some kind of feelings for him besides disappointment and betrayal. “I’m crazy about her,” he said. “From the first time I saw her, I haven’t looked at another woman.”

“She’ll find it hard to resist that kind of devotion.”

“Well, that’s the hope anyway.”

Rick’s stare was speculative. “Where will you go from here when that guy is behind bars and you have Brianna back?”

“Wish I knew. She’s agreed to live together to give Brianna more stability.”

“I don’t know much about the problems in your relationship, but I know one thing,” Rick said, his expression grave. “God can work miracles.”

“That’s what I’m going to need.”

“And that’s what I’ll pray for with you.”

When Rick bowed his head, Clay realized he meant now. God had sent him a prayer warrior right when he needed it.

22

A
FTER CHURCH AND
S
UNDAY DINNER
, E
DEN WENT WITH
A
LLIE TO TAKE POSSESSION OF A
donated horse. The misery in the old mare’s eyes clutched at Eden’s heart. “Where’d she come from?” she asked Allie, who was coaxing the animal from the battered trailer with a sugar cube in her outstretched hand. “She doesn’t look like she’s been fed very well.”

Allie’s dark eyes flashed. “The way people mistreat their animals makes me furious. I’d like to put this girl’s owner in a barn and feed him every three days and see how he likes it.”

“Is that what happened?” The horse moseyed toward Eden, and she stepped back, even though she wished she had the courage to touch that rough fur.

“Yes. A neighbor turned him in. Rick talked the guy into letting us have her for a hundred dollars.”

“You bought her?”

“It was the only way to save her.” The mare finally nibbled at the sugar in Allie’s hand, but she flinched when Allie touched her nose. “Easy,” she murmured.

“Will she live?” Eden wanted to touch the poor, mistreated thing. She put out a timid hand, then withdrew it.

“I think so. Shannon seems optimistic. This old girl is malnourished, but the right food and some love will fix her right up. We have plenty of both.”

“You seem to have an abundance of horses. Do you do this all the time?”

Allie stepped back when the horse meandered away. She wiped her hands on her jeans. “My grandfather had a dream. He saw how abused children responded to mistreated animals. A bond of love helped them both. So he opened this ranch to help children and horses.”

“And you’ve run it ever since?”

“Well, Rick has. I came later.” Allie smiled. “I love it here.” She glanced at Eden’s tan slacks. “There’s a really great jeans store in town. Nice selection. We should go shopping.”

She couldn’t wear jeans any easier than she could shoot someone. Well, maybe she could. She’d been dreaming about jeans and boots. What did that mean? Was she changing? Being here had opened her eyes in some ways. But she wasn’t quite ready for jeans.

“Maybe,” she said. “I do love to shop. I need to make a call. Do you mind watching the girls a minute?”

“They’re fine. Buzz and the guys have them under control. I’ll sit right here and oversee.” She hopped onto the top rung of the fence.

“Thanks.” Eden went to the house, got the portable phone, then settled on the back step. Maybe she shouldn’t, but she wanted to tell Daniel what had happened with her mother.

Glancing at her watch, she saw it would be two o’clock back in Indiana. Daniel would be working on his bills this afternoon, maybe watching sports on TV. Sometimes the two of them used to play Monopoly while they ate fudge and popcorn. She missed those days.

The phone rang and rang. She was about to hang up when he finally picked up on the other end. She knew he was on because she heard the TV in the background but he said nothing. “Daniel?”

“I told you not to call me, Eden.”

“I know, but I thought you might want to know that I met with my mother,” she said before he could hang up.

There was a long pause. “Oh? And why should that interest me?”

His voice was so cold. This was a mistake. “If you’re not interested, that’s all there is to say. Sorry I bothered you.” She hesitated, but when he didn’t say anything more, she clicked off the phone.

Her eyes burned. Daniel had been her brother in all the ways that counted. She must have hurt him terribly. Her chest heaved, quick little gasps of air. Daniel was so bitter, so angry. What had she done to him? It was as though she’d worn blinders all her life and didn’t see anything clearly.

“Eden?”

She lifted her head at the sound of Clay’s voice. “You were right,” she said. “Daniel hates me. Hates me!”

He embraced her. “I’m sorry.”

She leaned her head into his chest. “I’m not sure why this has hit me so hard.”

“What did he say?”

“I called him to let him know I’d seen my mother. Since he gave me the agency’s number and all.”

“They say there’s a fine line between love and hate. He crossed it?”

“It appears so.” She leaned into him. His shirt smelled of Downy. She wished she could stay here all afternoon, sheltered by Clay’s strength.

He dropped a kiss on her head. “We have that international dinner tonight, right? How about you go do your cooking and try not to worry. I’ll look after the girls.”

She knew he was right. There was no repairing the damage now. Daniel would get over it or he wouldn’t. She went to the kitchen of the main house.

Rita had an apron for Eden and supplies laid out for her. And a pot of coffee on. “You know me too well,” Eden told her.

Rita wrinkled her nose. “You’ll need all the strength you can get to endure the coconut smell.”

Eden grinned, then poured a cup of coffee. “You can leave if it’s going to be too painful.”

“I’m a big girl. I think you’ll need some help.” She glanced around. “Where’s Clay? I made him some oatmeal-scotchie cookies.”

“Those are his favorite!”

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“You’ll have to give me the recipe.” Eden turned to her ingredients. “The last batch I made turned out okay, but I have to double it for tonight.” Fortified by coffee with cream, she set to work. The rice came out a little sticky, but the chicken mixture looked and smelled right.

She tasted it. “I think it’s okay.” What a relief. She hadn’t wanted to let Allie down. She held up a spoonful. “You can’t really taste the coconut.”

Rita shook her head. “I’d be able to taste it.”

“Are you going to the dinner tonight?” Eden asked.

Rita flipped a blond braid over her shoulder. “I should say! There’s a cowboy who works for Jack MacGowan that I have my eye on. I’m not letting one of the other women get ahead of me.” She smiled. “Besides, it’s good fodder for my novel.”

“How’s that coming?” Eden had never known a writer.

“I’m halfway through. I got me a book on how to write a romance. I have one of those brooding heroes. One who sweeps the heroine off her feet. Like Clay.” She sighed blissfully. “I bet I get a movie offer when it’s done. Maybe Clay can land the lead role.”

Rita had self-confidence at least. Eden chuckled. “He’d have all the girls after him.”

She smiled and put the cover on the dish, then went to find Clay. They had to be at the community center in half an hour. He wasn’t at the barn or at the ranch house. Rick told her Clay had asked about a handsaw and suggested she check the shed at the back edge of the property.

The building was on the west side of the back pasture, a dot in the distance from the backyard. Eden followed a crushed-stone path through knee-high scrub and sage to the building. Painted red like the barn, it appeared to be a fairly new addition to the property, about thirty feet square. The door was shut tight but the padlock hung loose. She opened the door and peered inside. It contained tools, a yard tractor, and various gardening items.

“Clay?” she called. The scent of oil and dust made her sneeze. She advanced into the building. “Are you in here?” There was no answer.

The gardening tools hanging on the wall reminded her of when she was a kid. Her foster mother had loved azaleas. There was a small plot of flowers at the edge of their house that held four plants, and her mother deadheaded them and mulched them all summer long. Eden touched a pruning shear, then turned to go.

Strange. She thought she’d left the door open. She twisted the handle and pushed, but it didn’t move. Maybe she had to turn the knob the other way. She tried that, but the door still refused to budge. She yanked on it and tried everything she could before she admitted that she seemed to be locked in. Maybe there was another way out. She saw another door at the back and went to try it. It refused to open as well.

And what was that smell? She sniffed the air and the hair stood on the back of her neck. It was cologne, the same smell that had been in Clay’s truck after it was taken. “Who’s there?” she asked, hating the way her voice shook. “Show yourself.”

Was that a scratching sound? Her skin crawled. She had to get out of here. Whirling, she ran to the window on the front of the building. She flipped the latch and tried to raise the sash. It seemed stuck. Maybe she needed to be taller to get better leverage. Grabbing a nearby bucket, she upended it and stepped on its bottom. She shoved the top of the window with all her might but it still wouldn’t open. From her vantage point, she realized someone had locked the padlock on the door.

She hopped from the bucket and ran with it to the back window. The back door was padlocked too. She tried to lift the window there and managed to get it up a crack before it stuck again. She smelled gasoline, and the odor began to intensify. The shadows grew deeper too. Was someone hiding behind the tool bench or the yard tractor?

She shrank back against the wall. Would Clay miss her and come searching for her? Maybe Rick would tell him she was out here looking for him. She heard something else. A faint
whoosh
. Then another smell, acrid and noxious, began to overpower the gas. Smoke? Surely not. She sniffed the air again. It was stronger now. No mistaking it. Something was on fire.

A green hose was coiled on the wall. She rushed for it and grabbed it off the hook. Where was the faucet? She frantically looked around the space but saw no spigot. Maybe the hose was simply stored here. The smell was stronger now, and a haze hung in the air. She coughed at the burning in her lungs. There, on the workbench. A crowbar. She grabbed it and ran for the partially open window. With the hook of the crowbar on the bottom edge of the sill, she pried as hard as she could. It went up a bit but still not far enough to squeeze through.

The smoke swirled around her, obscuring her vision even more. The windows were small panes. Standing back a bit, she swung the crowbar at the window. The end of it smashed through the middle pane. The grids were part of the window, not removable. But maybe she could knock them out. She swung the heavy metal bar again and the thin wood popped out. Encouraged, she began to batter the window as hard and fast as she could. Her vision swam and she coughed.

She wasn’t going to make it.

23

C
LAY WIPED HIS DAMP BROW
. H
E
’
D JUST FINISHED CLEANING OUT SOME STALLS
. S
OME ICED
tea would be in order after he returned the saw. He found Buzz in the barn. “Thanks for the saw. Where’s it go?”

The old cowboy glanced up from messing with a horse’s hoof. “It belongs in the shed out yonder. I just had it up here to work on a fence.”

“If you tell me where it goes, I’ll put it back.”

“Just inside the door to your left are hooks with other tools. Any of those hooks will do.” Buzz went back to his chore.