Promise Broken (The Callahan Series) (3 page)

Wiping her hands down her jeans, she hurried to the barn door and looked out just as Nellie embraced the man.

Nellie knew him. Could he be the son who’d abandoned Nellie and the Callahans, leaving them so desperate that Nellie was willing to hire her immediately even without references?

She’d seen pictures of Donovan Callahan in the house. She knew he looked different from the rest of the children who came here often. She’d wondered if maybe they were switching off their visits to keep an eye on the new hired hand.

They were a personable bunch, got along together, but what impressed her the most was the obvious love they had for each other.

From her position in the barn, she couldn’t hear what the two were saying, but Nellie looked happy. When the man turned slightly, she saw his profile. Even with the beard, she was sure it was the missing son.

Phyl went weak with relief, admonished herself for being so paranoid.

Taking a deep breath, she went back to Mark, who was doing his best to brush Lily. “You’re doing good, Mark.”

“Can I ride again tomorrow?” he asked, brown eyes pleading.

“Maybe.”

After feeding Lily, they walked toward Nellie and the stranger.

“There you are.” Nellie smiled. “I want you to meet my oldest son, Donovan. Don, this is Phyllis Leander and her son, Mark. I hired her to look after things while you were gone.”

He gave Phyl a hard look. One that screamed he didn’t think her capable. So she was thin. Too thin, Nellie told her that her first day. Did he think she couldn’t do the work? Or she couldn’t do it because she was a woman? Ignoring the look, she stuck out her hand. “Call me Phyl.”

He took her hand, squeezed. She let her gaze wash over his whiskered face. Dark blue eyes glared at her. Tall. She had to look up to him. Unusual since she was five-foot-ten.

Mark tugged on her jeans. “Is that Donovan?”

“Mark.” The man bent and shook hands.

Not many acknowledged a child.

“After all the stories the Callahans told Mark about you, my son thinks you’re the greatest.”

She turned to go into the house, giving him a look she hoped he could read. One that said he’d better not disappoint her child. There had been too much of that lately.

She entered the kitchen and let the warmth of the house seep into her, as she had every day since her arrival. She didn’t think it was the house itself, but the warm and caring woman who gave Phyl a job the very moment she thought she couldn’t run another mile or another minute. Here she felt safe. Mark was safe.

She gave Donovan another quick look. Would she have to leave now? A tug of concern turned into a ball of apprehension. One she wouldn’t pursue right this minute.

There was something in his eyes though, that made her wonder.

He wasn’t her problem. She had enough of her own. Those problems had escalated the minute the missing son came home.

Nellie went straight to the stove. Mark trailed alongside Donovan.

“Go upstairs and clean up, Mark,” Phyl told her son.

“I want to stay down here,” he argued.

“As soon as you’ve bathed and changed clothes,” she insisted.

“Mo-om!”

Phyl smiled to herself, Mark was a typical six-year-old, and thankfully showed no signs of the trauma they’d been through.

Donovan’s watchful eyes followed her, and they didn’t look happy. Interesting.

She washed up and began to set the table.

Donovan went upstairs. Nellie was busy at the stove. But Phyl’s thoughts were troubled.

Sheer luck had landed them on the Callahan ranch. She liked it here and didn’t want to leave.

Where would they go?

She’d sold her car in Arizona over a month ago, spent the proceeds on bus fare and the few clothes they had to have. When they got here three weeks ago, all they had were the clothes on their backs, a couple of changes of underwear, and one extra outfit each.

“Upstairs, Mark. Bathe and change, then you can come down.”

The bite of fear she couldn’t keep out of her voice sent Mark running.

She worried about him. Both of them had been threatened, but the thought that Mark could be hurt made her wary. “I’ll get you both and the kid will watch you die,” the killer had screamed. The words rang in her head every day. Now she had another fear. She was afraid Mark held Donovan up like some kind of hero. Not good. Not if they were to leave.

She finished setting the table and went upstairs to TJ’s old room. Nellie had told her when she was hired that it would be hers for as long as she stayed. Phyl let a half-smile cross her face at the first time she’d met the only girl in the family. Nellie introduced her as Taralyn. Phyl was told in no uncertain terms to call her TJ. Only her husband, Max, and her mother called her by her full name. There had to be a story there somewhere, but Phyl didn’t know if she’d be around long enough to hear it.

Her first day here, Nellie suggested one of the boys’ rooms for Mark. Phyl insisted he sleep in hers. No one understood. Not even Mark. But Nellie gave her a cot and Phyl put a foam pad on it. Mark was quite comfortable.

Her glance went to the cot. Though she was doing her best to teach Mark to make his bed, it left much to be desired. Half the cover was draped on the floor. Still, it was pulled up and covered the pillow. The remote-controlled car his father gave him before he died lay on top. She sighed. Mark loved that car. He’d carried it in his arms from California to Texas.

It made her sad to know what it represented and who it reminded him of.

Her thoughts flew to the small stash of bills in the dresser. It was all the money they had. Donovan simply couldn’t make them leave.

But the look in his cobalt blue eyes wasn’t promising. A trace of fear rose up and bit her in the gut. She pushed it down, tried to ignore her shaking fingers as she unbuttoned her shirt, stepped out of her jeans and into the shower.

If he made them leave, they’d be in danger again. She shuddered at the thought.

She was tired of running.

In fact, she was just plain tired. She’d worked hard all day, just as she had every day she’d been here. Growing accustomed to ranch work again made muscles she’d long forgotten scream in agony.

True, she’d worked on a ranch for years as a kid. But ranching had ended when her dad died while she was in high school, and an aunt took her to California.

After three weeks at the Callahans, she was just now getting used to the routine again. A good night’s sleep was what she needed.

Taking her time, she dressed in clean jeans and T-shirt, dried her hair with an old hair-dryer she’d found in a drawer, tied it back with a ribbon. She didn’t relish seeing Donovan again.

She and Mark both liked Nellie. She was like a mother to Phyl, and a grandmother to Mark. She didn’t remember the mother who died when she was barely five. She did remember her dad telling her that Mom was with the angels, and wouldn’t be coming back. She did remember the trauma that followed.

Nellie was a comforting and reassuring presence. Plus, she seemed to care for them. Phyl hoped so, now more than ever.

As usual, Nellie was at the stove when Phyl walked into the kitchen. Mark turned her way with a piece of apple in his hand.

“What can I do?”

“You’ve already set the table, and you’ve worked all day. There’s no need to do more.”

“You tell me that every day. Now tell me what needs to be done or I’ll just get in your way.”

“I guess you can fill the glasses with ice. The enchiladas will be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Smells wonderful.” She looked over at Nellie who was peeling avocados. “Will Dugan be here?”

“I’m sure he will. Set him a place.”

“You look happy.”

“I am.” Nellie smiled softly. “Donovan’s back.”

Phyl had never asked why Donovan left. If Nellie wanted her to know she’d tell her. But she
was
curious. Phyl couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to leave a place that to her was like a slice of heaven.

She stepped outside, cut a hand full of roses from Nellie’s garden, and arranged them in a vase.

“That looks nice,” Nellie said. “When Dugan called to tell me they were on their way home, I made Donovan’s favorite dessert.”

“And that would be...?”

“Pound cake with strawberries, and whipped cream,” Donovan’s voice sounded behind her.

Phyl jumped. He was supposed to be upstairs.

“Exactly,” Nellie said.

Going to her son, Nellie wrapped her arms around his waist, laid her head on his chest. “It’s so good having you in my kitchen again.” She reached up, kissed his whiskered cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

Donovan patted her back awkwardly, walked to the door, and headed upstairs. “When’s dinner?”

Nellie looked at the clock. “Ten minutes.”

“Good.” He started upstairs.

Mark followed right behind him.

“No you don’t, Mark. You can help me.”

“That’s girl’s work,” he whined.

“Says who?” Nellie and Phyl said together.

Phyl chuckled. She’d miss this.

With a frown, Mark did as he was told. When he finished, he headed for the back door.

“Can I play with Freckles and Queenie until dinner?”

“If you don’t get dirty. You wouldn’t want to take another bath, would you?”

Mark rolled his eyes as he went out the door. His happy voice as he called the dogs and their gleeful barks made her smile.

“He loves those dogs,” Nellie said.

“Yes, he does. Now I think he’s going to have a love affair with Lily.” She turned and went to stand beside the older woman. “Thanks again for letting us stay. It’s wonderful to see Mark so happy.”

“You’ve been more help than I can ever say.” Nellie chuckled. “I thought you were joshing when you told me you were applying for the job. It was hard to believe a little thing like you could do ranch work.” Nellie looked at Phyl fondly. “I enjoy Mark more every day. He’s an added bonus.”

“He loves it here.”

“What about you? I know how hard you work. Wouldn’t you be happier doing something easier?”

Here it was. Nellie was going to ease Phyl and Mark out the door. It didn’t matter that Nellie cared for them. Donovan was back.

Phyl let out a silent sigh. “I was raised on a ranch. Coming here has made me realize how much I missed the life.”

“Even the back-breaking chores?”

“Even those,” Phyl assured her.

“Dinner ready?” Dugan asked as he stuck his head in the back door.

Mark scooted in under his arm. “I’m hungry, Mom.”

“I’m hungry, too, Mom.” Dugan laughed.

“You boys are always hungry.” Nellie chuckled as she took a large tray out of the oven. “I think everything’s ready.” She turned to Phyl. “Why don’t you call Donovan down to eat?”

She didn’t want the task, but didn’t know how to get out of it. The thought of being alone with him made her nervous. It would give him the chance to tell her to leave without Nellie’s objection.

But Nellie was definitely on Phyl’s side. Maybe that would help.

Phyl found Donovan sitting on the top step of the staircase, his hands hanging between his legs, a look on his face she couldn’t fathom. “Your mom sent me to tell you that dinner’s ready.”

“I’ll be there,” he said, staring at her with cold, blue eyes.

Phyl felt a chill.

She turned to go back downstairs.

“Just a minute.”

Her foot froze in mid-air. Here it was. She clamped her teeth together, lifted her head. She’d survive this the same way she’d survived so far. Whatever it took, she would keep Mark safe.

Resolutely, she put her foot down, turned. “Yes?”

“Are there any problems?”

Her heart flipped with dread. Her throat closed. Problems? She could name a dozen. So which ones interested him? “What do you mean?”

“Mom said you’ve been taking care of things. Are there any problems I should know about?”

So this was how it would start. He’d find out that the west hay field hadn’t been baled. He’d get an update on the expecting heifers. He’d see where the northeast fence line needed repairs, that fifty cows from the north pasture needed shots. Maybe he’d thank her before sending her on her way. Maybe not. Then he’d take back the reins, the management, the work that had helped ease the fear that haunted her—that sent her and Mark running.

What had she expected?

Her mind raced. Where would they go? A large city? Maybe. They could hide there. Or would another ranch be better? Whatever she did, wherever she went, it was imperative they stay hidden.

She’d have to get a job fast or they’d be living in a shelter. Even that was better than being found.

****

What the heck?

Didn’t look as if she was going to answer. Probably because there were so many problems she couldn’t name them all. There was no way a skinny thing like her could do a man’s job.

Wisps of blond hair escaped the ribbon she’d tied at the back of her head. Dark brown eyes looked at him with such sadness it made him squirm. She wasn’t bigger than a minute. Yeah, she was tall, but way too thin. Her hands looked strong. Her arms had defined muscles. He couldn’t see her legs in those jeans, but from where he sat, they were long and shapely, maybe even muscular. Still, he couldn’t see her handling the hard work.

Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was just company for Mom.

Phyl cleared her throat. “I’ll make a list for you tonight. Is that all right?”

He nodded.

Probably take her hours.

He stood.

She moved downstairs.

His eyes fastened on those long legs, the sway of her hips.

She could leave now that he was back, her and the kid.

Not if you leave again,
a voice whispered in his head. Mom would need someone to help with the ranch. There had been times he’d needed help himself. But this woman? That was questionable.

He lost sight of her when she rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. Slowly, he continued downstairs.

His brothers and sister expected him to stay. So did Mom. But even Mom couldn’t expect him to work with a female ranch hand. Surely, she’d want things the way they’d been.