Peace River (Rockland Ranch Series) (9 page)

             
After five days he still knew so little about her.  He and Rossen had just realized they didn’t even know her last name or how old she was.  They were both convinced that boredom was not the real reason she’d come with them.  They were also convinced that whatever her reasons, they were valid.  This girl was absolutely stable, he was sure of that.  She was capable, but at the same time so completely feminine.  Naturally beautiful, she didn’t have a drop of that obnoxious, catty teasing most women used on him.  He’d never known a girl he felt this comfortable with except his own sister.  But Isabel definitely didn’t seem like a sister.  That was the one thing about her that actually did trouble him.  He was drawn to her—like a quiet, but insistent magnet. 

             
In the last five days, he’d completely lost the urge to eat out, go dancing after the rodeo, or hang out with the guys.  In all honesty some of those things had begun to pale before she’d come with them.  Now however, after the rodeo or when they’d made it to wherever they were headed for the day, he just wanted to come back to the trailer, sit on the steps or in the old lawn chairs and quietly watch the stars.  She wasn’t a big talker and neither was he, but the silence was comfortable.  Without even knowing it, she was bringing him peace.

             
It had been a long time coming.

                                                        ****

              Rossen watched Slade watching Isabel again.  Something told him that maybe Slade had finally found whatever it was he’d lost. He smiled to himself for his friend. 

             
He lay back on his bed and linked his fingers behind his head to stare up through the small window at the moon and ponder. 
Okay Lord, what have you got in mind for me?  I’m trying to be patient, but I’d really like to settle down as well.  Any ideas?
  Just then a wisp of cloud blew across the moon and he thought to himself,
How silly that some truly don’t know God is watching over us.  He’s so obvious sometimes.

                                                        ****

              Slade and Rossen woke to ham, whole grain blackberry muffins hot from the oven with real butter, fresh squeezed orange juice, and cold milk.  The tiny kitchen had been straightened and Isabel’s bed was neatly made.  They could hear her outside talking to her horse as she lounged him in a circle.  Opening the curtains over the table, they watched her as they ate. 

             
Around a bite of his muffin, Rossen wondered, “What do you ‘spose, Slade?  Why did she come with, and why won’t she take the sheet off that poor horse?  I wonder when she’ll either ride him or turn him out to run.”

             
Slade washed his own muffin down with a glass of milk before answering, “Actually, first thing the other morning I stepped out just in time to see her finish sliding the sheet back on him.  I think she’d been grooming him, although it was still so dark out I don’t know how she could see what she was doing.”

             
Rossen looked puzzled.  “Maybe he has a skin condition and can’t be exposed to the light.  I wonder if he’s contagious.  Maybe we should ask.”  He was warming to his topic.  “Or maybe it’s just a dang ugly horse and she just doesn’t want anyone to see it.” 

             
Slade was thoughtful.  “If I hadn’t come to really trust her, I’d almost wonder if she was trying to hide that horse.”

             
Rossen swallowed another bite of muffin. “Nah, what would a nice girl like her have to hide?”

              Later that afternoon, they’d cared for their horses, roped for awhile, confirmed their entries for that night’s rodeo and checked their gear.  They were sitting at the table eating the Asian salads Isabel had built for them before leaving to run a few errands.  Rossen was clicking through the channels on their little TV and paused on TNN.  It was a beer commercial so he waited to see what was being televised. 

They’d both ju
st taken a bite of their salads when the announcer came back on with a special report about the mysterious disappearance of a world class Thoroughbred stallion and his owner Ms. Carrie O’Rourke, granddaughter of the late Hugh O’Rourke, and owner of the beautiful Wind Dance Farms of Woodland Hills, California.  The missing stallion had won both the Preakness and the Belmont Stakes, and had then gone on to be one of the most successful racehorse sires of their time.  Slade and Rossen stopped chewing in unison as across the screen flashed a grainy picture of Isabel, followed immediately by footage of the several-million-dollar stallion Ebony Wind with the distinctive marking of a wild lightning bolt down the side of his sleek face. 

             
Rossen stared and Slade whispered a mild expletive.  They simultaneously erupted from the table to explode out the door of the trailer and sprint to the row of stalls where their horses were stabled. 

             
Slade slipped quietly into the stall and approached the big horse in the sheet and hood.  He gently slid a lead rope around its neck and pulled the hood.  Neither man uttered a word; they just stared open-mouthed at the unmistakable jagged lightning strike.  Slade pulled the thin sheet off the horse’s body and almost hesitantly ducked to look under its belly.

             
In utter disbelief, the two cowboys stared at each other, speechless for several moments until sounds at the far end of the barn prompted Slade to hurriedly replace the sheet and hood.  Ebony Wind stood quietly listening to the tall cowboy at his side swearing under his breath. 

             
Slade took the lead rope off the big horse’s neck and exited the stall, carefully shooting the bolt on the closure. He stood there while Rossen went to the trailer and returned with a hardened padlock to secure the stall door.  Still speechless they walked back to the trailer and sat looking at their salads.  Finally, Rossen broke the silence. “And I thought he was just ugly.”  

Chapter 4

Ten minutes later, w
hen Isabel came breezing into the trailer, Slade and Rossen were still sitting at the table in shock and Slade was still wondering what they needed to do about their discovery. With her usual easy smile, she said, “Hi, guys!” She put down the bags of groceries she was carrying and went back out to bring in the clean laundry. 

As she came in with the next load, b
alancing the laundry on her hip to close the door, she set the folded jeans on the table and said, “Sorry, I’m not really sure which ones are which.”  Laughing, she said, “Which can’t be that big of deal because they are all exactly the same size, and style.” She laughed again as she turned and started to put groceries into the cupboards. 

             
Rossen began hesitantly, “Um, Carrie.  We were, uh, thinking we should, uh . . . ” 

She turned and tossed a packag
e of chocolate licorice to him.  “Your licorice.”  She turned back to the groceries, humming to herself. 

She suddenly stiffened, standing perfectly still for a moment
, and then silently turned around to stare at the two of them with wide eyes.  “What did you say?”  She stood looking from one to the other, searching their faces.

             
Slade answered, “He said--Carrie, we need to talk.”  He wasn’t necessarily angry but he certainly meant business.  And he wanted to know why she had lied to them.  He’d trusted her.

             
Hesitantly, as she left the groceries and came to sit at the table next to Rossen and facing Slade, she asked, “So . . .  What’s going on?” 

             
“That’s exactly what we were hoping you could tell us, actually.”  Slade knew his voice was cool.  “During lunch we just happened to see a segment on TNN about a missing horse worth millions, and a missing horse owner worth more millions.  Her name was Carrie. She looks a lot like you.”

             
She let out a big breath and Rossen said, “We went to the barn, Isabel.  We looked at the horse.”  His voice wasn’t nearly as cold and accusing as Slade’s.  He continued, “I’m sure you have good reasons for what you’ve done.  Even in the short time we’ve known you, we’ve grown to trust you.”  He was looking pointedly at Slade. “But under the circumstances we think we deserve an explanation.  You do realize we can’t drive around the country indefinitely hauling a horse worth millions of dollars, don’t you?  And if we’d known he was a stud, we probably would have done a few things differently.”

             
She nodded, and a look of defeat crossed her face as she said, “Please forgive me for not being completely honest with you.”

             
After a short pause that felt long, she went on, “Look, I know you probably won’t believe me, but I’d already decided to tell you.  I do have my reasons for not telling you.  At first I didn’t know you.  I didn’t know I could trust you.  And now that I know I can trust you, I didn’t think it very fair to involve you.  But then I guess I already have, so . . .  Last night getting ready for bed I was trying to figure out what to do about the ports of entry.  Of all the things I tried to think through, the ports of entry have me stuck. I’ve thought and thought and come up with nothing.  I could never falsify information to the government and it’d never work anyway.  He’s pretty distinctive.  There’s just no way.  But I can’t just waltz in and announce to the world where I am either.” 

She took a deep breath
and continued, “I know I’m a burden to you.  I realize much more than you what a responsibility the horse is, and I also realize much more than you that I could be putting you in danger.  Give me a day or two to figure out what to do and I’ll get out of your hair.  I’m sorry for putting you in a bind, but I do have to tell that you’ll never know how much you’ve helped me even just for these few days.”  She got up to go back to the kitchen counter and the groceries. 

Slade
sat silently at the table thinking.  He hadn’t meant to tell her to leave, and actually had no intention of letting her go.  He just didn’t know what to say, exactly.  He hadn’t had time to even fully comprehend this turn of events. 

Rossen
, on the other hand, got up to help her unload the groceries and got straight to the point.  “We aren’t asking you to leave.  In fact, you can’t, no matter what kind of a mess you're in.  We can no longer function without you so we’ll just have to find solutions.

             
“That being said, we can’t just keep driving around the country with a stallion worth Fort Knox in the trailer.  We’ll get through this rodeo tonight and tomorrow.  Then first thing the next morning, we’re heading home to Wyoming to stash him away somewhere safe.

             
“Secondly, is there anyway you would feel comfortable with telling Slade and me exactly what kind of trouble you're in, so we could help?”  He continued without giving her time to answer.  “And thirdly, what the heck is your real name anyway?”

             
Carrie looked at her feet. “I never told you my name was Isabel, you know.  Anna was the one who intimated that.”  She smiled a mellow smile. “You see, when Anna and I were little we played this game where we were damsels in distress, and our knights in shining armor came and saved us.  Anna just knew I needed to disappear and she recognized you for what you are, two wonderful men I could trust to get me and this horse safely away.  I needed Carrie O’Rourke to cease to exist for awhile, so Isabel was just a logical choice.  I realized what she was doing and went along.  I’ve never even figured out a last name.”

             
Almost to herself she said, “You know the funny thing about it, I actually like it.  I feel safer as Isabel, and wouldn’t mind keeping that as my name forever.  Whether I stay with you or not, I can’t just go back and be Carrie right now, so Isabel is great for me.”  The groceries were put away and Carrie came back to the table and sat down across from Slade.  She looked up into his eyes as if trying to read his thoughts and he returned the gaze.  She took a deep breath and began the necessary explanation.

             
“Denzel Judd, my father, biologically at least, is a violent and abusive crook who’s lately become a compulsive gambler, among his myriad of other character flaws.  He’s also recently acquired some very interesting friends who do things like money laundering, drug dealing, and illegal gambling.  You know, kind, gentle, trustworthy types.  I believe he came by these friends by way of some huge gambling debts he can‘t repay.”  Isabel knew she sounded as bitter as she felt about her father.  “It’s a very long story, so I’ll give you the bare bones version.

             
“He’s been messing up my life from well before I was born.  He lives in the house right next to mine on Wind Dance Farms that became his when my mother passed away six months ago.  He’s always lived there.  I used to live there too until I moved over into my grandfather’s house when I was twelve to get away from him.  Let’s just say he’s never been good to me or anyone else, especially my mother, and if it hadn’t been for my grandfather, my mother’s father, I honestly don’t know how I would have survived all these years at all.  While my grandfather was alive, Judd was much easier to live with, for whatever reasons.