The wind howled and raged outside the window like a pack of wolves baying for entrance. Allie stirred the pot of chili and watched the eddies of sand dance in the glow of sunset.
“Smells good.” Charlie stood with his thumbs hooked in his pockets. The expression in his eyes said he was talking about her and not the chili. He looked washed-out.
Allie hid her smile. Rick seemed to barely notice how she looked, let alone how she smelled. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes. You okay? You look a little pale.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Just a headache.” He smiled and held out a small, velvet box.
“What’s this?”Allie took the box and opened it.A diamond eternity necklace lay nestled on the satin. The diamonds circling the pendant made her blink. “Charlie, it’s beautiful. Who’s it for?”
“You.” His smile was shy.
Allie caught her breath. “Oh no, Charlie, I can’t accept something so expensive.” In her hand, the little box closed with a snap. She pressed it back into his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
He stuffed the box into the pocket of his jeans. “Someone in town said you and Rick got hitched.”
“It’s true.”
He blinked rapidly, and his eyes looked moist. “You married Rick? You just got here.”
“He knew my first husband.” She knew it sounded lame.
“That’s no reason to get married.” Charlie’s lips trembled like he wanted to cry. He pressed them together like he suddenly remembered he was a grown-up.
“Well, we did.” She clamped her teeth against any explanation. It wasn’t like Charlie was a good friend or anything. He was just disappointed not to make his conquest. He was on his way to growing up, and she’d just given him a valuable lesson in not counting chickens.
“Probably for Betsy,” he mumbled, then turned and shuffled away.
If only she had someone she could really talk to here. Or anywhere, for that matter. There was no one left to her now, no one to help her see the path through the trees. Had she even done the right thing? But Jon had trusted Rick. Surely she could do the same.
Rick just seemed so sure of himself. She was anything but. Part of her insecurity came from the trouble she had with light, and part of it was the life she’d led—that of a nomad. The rodeo was her family, but the personnel often changed with every event. She’d learned to hide behind a smile and her work.
The thump of Rick’s boots on the floor had become familiar, and she glanced up as he came into the kitchen. The expression on his face told her he had more questions.
“I’ve been thinking about who could be targeting you,” he said, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down. “I wonder if it could be someone who has something against Jon.”
“Against Jon?” Allie shook her head. “Everyone liked him.”
“Not everyone,” Rick said.
Allie joined him at the table. “What do you mean? He was like a pied piper. At the sound of his voice, people flocked to him. He had that certain something that made people instantly warm to him.”
“I know. But some people resented that. We had a colonel who couldn’t stand him. He thought Jon was a fake who used his charisma to advance himself.”
Allie stared at him. “Jon was genuine.”
“I know. I’m just saying not everyone liked him.”
“He’s dead,” she pointed out. “This stalker keeps saying he’s going to strip me of everything I love. So it’s personal and targeted at me.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Shoot, I thought maybe I was on to something.” He stared at her. “Tell me about your life with Jon. About the rodeo. Maybe we’ll see something you’ve missed.”
“It was a fairy tale,” she said softly.
“How’d you meet him?”
“He was on leave, and his buddy talked him into going to the rodeo. He hated it, you know. The dust, the smells. I was moving horses from one corral to the other, and he stepped into some horse dung. He was so mad. I laughed, and he looked up. Our eyes met and it was . . . magic. He asked me out, we saw each other every night for a week, and he asked me to marry him. I said yes.”
“He moved fast.”
“You moved faster.” They locked gazes, and Allie laughed. No magic there, though Rick’s steadiness drew her.
It was just as well. Loving Rick would be like trying to ride a horse that had never been broken. The flight into the air might be high, but the jarring when she came back down could crush her bones.
“We married right away, against the advice of his parents. They never really accepted me. He found a house off base, and we settled in. Betsy was born about ten months later. Life was perfect for three years.” The few years she’d spent with Jon had been the best of her life—a home, a neighborhood, a church. Bliss.
“Then he was sent to Iraq.”
“Yes.” She looked down at her hands. “A few months later I got the news. I had no choice but to go back to the rodeo. I had to support Betsy, and it was the only way I knew how.”
“Jon’s insurance?”
“Only a little left over after the burial costs. He meant to get more,” she added when she saw his frown.
“Anyone at the base you might have had a run-in with?”
She thought back. In her memory, the days spent with Jon at Fort Irwin, California were filled with sunshine and laughter. No darkness marred the halcyon days. She shook her head. “There was nothing.”
“And the rodeo?”
She shrugged. “You get a lot of transients. People who think the rodeo is glamorous until they are faced with the reality of dust, sweat, and cow patties. Some hate being told what to do and walk off. I’ve had the usual rounds of misunderstandings, minor arguments. Nothing that stands out.”
“What about competitors? Any sore losers?”
A face leaped to mind. “I just thought of someone,” she said slowly. “There was a stock contractor we used for about five years. Ted Rediger. I found him injecting some bulls with something to make them buck harder. That’s a big no-no. I turned him in, and he lost the contract with the rodeo.”
“Did he know you were the reason he lost the contract?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She hadn’t even thought about the incident until now. It had seemed so minor.
“He never confronted you?”
“No, I never saw him after that.”
“I’ll have Brendan check it out.” Rick leaned back, and his unblinking eyes focused on her. “Are you afraid?”
Allie shuddered. “Wouldn’t you be? Some faceless person wants to hurt me, and I don’t even know why. It would help if I knew the reason.”
“Did you date anyone before Jon?With looks like yours, you could break someone’s heart.”
Was that a flicker of awareness in his eyes? Allie wanted to look away and couldn’t. His gaze bore into her, and she realized she liked Rick. And was drawn to him as well. He was steady and strong, and those broad shoulders could weather any storm. She felt so battered by life. The thought of a port in her storm was attractive. But maybe only because he was a link to Jon, and she was so lonely.
She’d have to be careful or she’d find herself in love with him, and that would be disastrous. Their goal was to help Betsy. Nothing more. She wanted to smile at her rationalizations.
The chili. Glad to tear her gaze away, she rose and went to stir the pot. “Jon was the only man I ever loved.”
“But not the only man who ever loved you?” he persisted.
“There was a rodeo clown who asked me out a few times, and I went. He was . . . strange.” She heard his chair scrape, and she tensed when he came up behind her. His proximity set her nerves tingling.
“Strange how?”
“Intense. A little too attentive. It was more than I was interested in, and I kept turning down his invitations. He didn’t give up for six months or so.”
“What happened to him?”
She turned and found Rick standing inside her personal space. With the stove behind her, there was nowhere to back up. “I don’t know. He quit, and I never heard from him again.”
“What was his name?” He took out his phone and starting inputting letters.
“Mark Haskell.” She watched his focused, efficient movements. “You must be used to interrogating people. I’ve wracked my brain trying to remember anyone who might be behind this and came up blank. Not that I think either of these men is guilty, but at least we have a place to start. Somewhere to look.”
Even though she believed her memories would only lead to dead ends, it felt good to be doing something. To hang a possible name on the faceless enemy. In a few days they’d be back to square one with no idea who her enemy could be, but right this minute, she felt hope— a foreign emotion that had vanished when the soldier showed up on her doorstep to tell her the love of her life had given his.
“Why didn’t you come?” she said abruptly. “When Jon died. Why didn’t you come to tell me instead of letting a stranger do it?”
He took a step back, and his gaze iced over. “I was a stranger too.”
“Not really. You were Jon’s friend, so I considered you one too. If you’d come to tell me—” She tore her gaze away and turned her back to him. Stirring the pot, she waited to see if he’d lie to her, deny the way he looked at her.
“I—I couldn’t,” he said.
Her hand with the wooden spoon in it paused above the steaming pot. “Were you injured?”
“No, I didn’t have a scratch.” His tone sharpened with an edge of bitterness. “Jon died, and I didn’t have a bruise.”
She put the spoon down on the stove and turned to face him again. “I’d like to know about that day. How Jon died. If he said anything.”
“Now’s not the time.” He backed away. “I’ll call the rest for dinner.”
Watching him retreat—he was running away for sure—Allie began to wonder if there was more to Jon’s death than she’d realized.
She would swear she saw guilt on Rick’s face.
The whiskey glowed golden in the glass. Rick could see it in his mind, taste the hot, smoky taste on his tongue. He hadn’t wanted a drink this bad in two years. Seeing Allie’s trusting blue eyes on him, knowing she thought he could fix everything, made him feel like a scorpion hiding under a rock.
She had no idea he’d cost her the perfect life she’d loved.
The story would come out sooner or later. He hadn’t lived thirty-four years without seeing how wrongs never stayed hidden. What kind of friend was he that he’d kill his best friend and then take his wife? When he’d been doing it for Betsy and Jon’s memory, Rick felt less confused. But standing in the kitchen, he realized he wanted Allie. Wanted her for his own, not to make amends.
He couldn’t betray Jon like that. It would be as bad as King David killing Uriah so he could have Bathsheba. Somehow he had to find the courage to keep the wall up between them, to keep her from creeping into his heart.
Betsy and Fern were playing with the kittens on the back porch. He stepped through the screen door, and the two girls were so engrossed with the antics of the cats that they didn’t look up.
“Supper, girls,” he said. Betsy got up and ran to hug his leg. He lifted her in his arms. “You hungry?”
She nodded.
“How about after dinner we go check on your horse? She was moving around better today.”
Betsy’s brilliant smile was her answer. Watching her expressive face, Rick wondered if there was more to the story behind her silence. Could she have seen or heard something besides the plane crash that caused her to retreat?
He lifted Betsy to his shoulders and opened the door for Fern. “You liking it here, Fern?”
“Yes sir,” she said in her soft, nearly inaudible voice.
“You’re doing a good job with the horses. And with Betsy.”
She peeked up at him through her lank bangs. A tremulous smile flashed across her face before it disappeared. “Thanks,” she whispered. She went through the doorway ahead of him.
He bent his knees so he didn’t bang Betsy’s head on the doorframe and followed the others to the kitchen. Food covered the table, and the aroma of chili mingled with the scent of the apple dumplings she’d put on the windowsill to cool.
“Hey, man, I ain’t eatin’ no chili.” Leon dropped into a chair and stretched out his long legs.
“You chicken, Leon?” Rick asked, lifting Betsy and depositing her in the chair beside Fern. “Can’t handle the spice?”
Leon glowered at him. “Get off my grill. I can handle anything, man.”
“Bet I can eat it hotter than you.” Rick grinned and sat beside the boy. “Let’s have a chili face-off. You game, Devon?”
The boy shook his head. “Dude, that’s seriously messed up. Chili makes you fart. I want to be able to breathe tonight.”
The girls snickered. Latoya ruffled Devon’s red hair as she passed. “You don’t need no help. You smelled yourself lately?”
The rest of the kids hooted with laughter. Rick grabbed the ladle. “Want some chili, Betsy?”
The little girl nodded, her smile breaking out.
“Then tell me. Say yes.” He waited, but the little girl ducked her head. “Come on, Betsy, you can do it. You’re a big girl.”
Allie grabbed the ladle from his hand. “She already said she wanted the chili.” Moments later a big spoonful of chili was steaming in Betsy’s bowl. Allie crumpled crackers into it and blew on it before lifting a spoonful to Betsy’s lips.
“Oh for Pete’s sake! She’s not a baby, Allie. She can talk, and she can feed herself if you’ll let her.”
Allie flushed and glanced around at the others listening to their conversation. She sat down, but Rick knew she would let him have it in private. Their minor spat squashed any banter, and the staff and the kids vanished as soon as they gulped down their supper.
Fern took Betsy up for her bath, and Rick leaned back in his chair. “I shouldn’t have said anything in front of the others,” he said, when she opened her mouth. “But Allie, you’ve got to quit babying her. It’s not helping Betsy grow up.”
Allie banged a pot down into the sink. “She is my daughter, Rick. Mine and Jon’s, not yours.”
“She’s going to be mine shortly,” he pointed out. “Legally and in every way.”
“I think I know what’s best for my daughter. You don’t understand how fragile she is, Rick.”
“I know what it’s like to grow up too fast. I don’t want that for her, but I do want her to grow up eventually. Yes, she’s got a problem, but the way you coddle her, she’s never going to talk. Quit answering for her, and start putting her in positions where she has to speak.”
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
“She’s already been hurt. Your job is to help her get past it, not wallow in it.”
Allie’s face reddened. “You’re such a—a male!”
“I don’t know how to be anything else.”
“I love her. She’s just a little girl.”
“But growing up fast. We’ve got to get her past this no-talking thing before she goes to school. I’ve got a lot of experience here with kids. Trust me a little.”
The expression in her eyes left no doubt that he was asking the impossible. She began to put the leftover chili away with jerky movements. She wasn’t done with this argument, not judging by the tense set of her shoulders. When she finally whirled to face him, he was ready.
“Let’s get something straight right now. I’m not going to have my parenting questioned at every turn. Betsy will always be my little girl. A piece of paper doesn’t make her yours. You’re only going to be in her life a year, and I don’t want her confused about who her father really is. Jon is her daddy, and he’ll always be her daddy. I don’t want you mucking up her memories.”
Like he’d do anything to hurt Jon’s memory. “Where’d you learn to grip the people you love in such a stranglehold?” he asked softly.
She flushed nearly the color of the chili, but she didn’t answer. It might take more patience than he had to get past her defenses.