Rick muttered under his breath as he strode across the yard to the ranch house. Jem did his little air dance at Rick’s side, then stopped at the front door when he went inside. Women like that one gave the word mother a bad rap. Some just weren’t born with a maternal instinct.
She had only been thinking of herself.
And what was wrong with the kid? Betsy hadn’t said a word. Something weird going on there, and it was likely the mom’s fault. Everyone that pretty had entitlement problems anyway. She wasn’t much bigger than a kid herself, and she’d probably used her tiny stature and big blue eyes to her advantage.
He was going to advise Elijah to get rid of her as soon as he could.
He stepped into the kitchen and threw together some sandwiches while the coffee brewed. He put them in a knapsack along with some apples and bottles of water. The most he would do is feed them. After pouring coffee into a thermos, he started back to the barn.
To give Elijah and the woman more time to talk, he stopped at the smaller barn to check on the horse they’d hauled back this morning. Scooping up the sweet feed mixture, he offered the mare another handful. The dull eyes looked at him, then her teeth nibbled at his palm. She was far from out of the woods.
The wind changed and brought the odor of manure to his nose. He winced as memories of another stench washed over him.
He was back in Fallujah, moving past puddles of raw sewage running in the streets. Joking with his buddy Jon and tossing pennies at the children who ran shouting and laughing beside them.
At one time, he’d thought to save the world. Right now, saving this horse would make him happy.
Elijah rubbed the mare’s belly. “My foreman is not as gruff as he seems.”
Allie didn’t believe the old man, though she wished she could. Allie glanced at Betsy. She was asleep. Now was the time.
She wet her lips. “I’ve come a long way to talk to you, Mr. DeAngelos.”
He held up his hand. “Please, call me Elijah.” He nodded to Betsy. “The niña has been hurt.”
Allie nodded. “My name is Allie Siders, and this is my daughter, Betsy.” The old man made a sudden movement, and she stopped. “Is anything wrong?”
“No, no, continue.”
Was it her imagination or had he paled? She hoped he didn’t have some kind of heart condition. When he didn’t move, she went on. “She hasn’t talked for a year. I’ve taken her to therapist after therapist, and there’s been no change. I’ve tried everything I know to help her. You’re my last hope.” Especially now that she knew she’d rather die than ask Rick Bailey for anything.
“How did you hear about us?”
She hesitated. How could she explain without telling all? “One of your hired hands came to a rodeo I worked in El Paso. He told me about this place. I had to try it.” She decided to see if she could get a reaction out of him. “I found a scrapbook about this place in my mama’s things.”
“Your mother? She stayed here?”
Allie nodded. “Her stage name was Anna Morgan.” Something seemed to shift in the room when she said the name, but everyone reacted that way.
“The barrel racer?”
“Yes.”
“She is dead now, killed in a plane crash.”
Allie took a deep breath. It had been the worst day of her life. “A year ago.”
Her mother had been as beautiful and flamboyant as a flamenco dancer. Her half-Hispanic blood was further diluted in Allie, who had her father’s blue eyes and calm temperament. Her mother brought passion and excitement to everything she did, and Allie’s life seemed to be lived in dull black and white since her mama’s death.
She studied his impassive face. Did he know his Selena had changed her name and become famous? Until Allie found the scrapbook and began the research, she thought her grandparents were dead. She found no evidence the old man knew he was her grandfather.
“You are hurting too, mujercita.What happened to you and the niña?”
He’d called her “little woman,” and she drew herself up to her full five foot two. “It’s Betsy I’m worried about. She’s been like this for a year, and I’ve tried everything. I don’t have any money to pay you, but I’ll work. I know horses. I’ve grown up in the rodeo. I can cook, clean, anything you need.” She rushed on, certain he would refuse when he found out she had nothing.
He didn’t have to know she’d sold everything—her horse, her new car. She had some pride left.
“I was once a bronco buster,” Elijah said. Then his gaze shifted as the horse groaned, and the hay darkened with fluid. “Ah, our foal is coming. Sleep. There will be time to talk tomorrow.”
Allie squatted beside him. “I can help you.”
“Cupcake is an experienced mother. She’ll do it all herself.”
“I’ll wait with you then.” If she could show how much she knew about horses, maybe he’d find her a job. It was no secret Rick Bailey wouldn’t be in favor of that. But Betsy needed Allie to do this. Though Elijah couldn’t help the other things that threatened them, if he could heal Betsy, it would be enough.
Elijah lifted the mare’s head enough to ease away. He stood back and watched the horse labor.
Rick came back in carrying a coffee thermos and Styrofoam cups. A knapsack was slung around his shoulder. He set the cups on a bale of hay and poured out a cup of coffee. Digging in his jeans, his hand came up with small containers of creamer. He still hadn’t said a word.
“Thanks.” Allie accepted two creamers and dumped them into her coffee. The aroma made her mouth water. Then the hot liquid filled her empty stomach. She’d been hoarding the last of her money to make sure Betsy had enough food and hadn’t eaten herself since breakfast, part of an omelet in a greasy spoon at nine this morning. Even then, she hadn’t eaten until Betsy was full.
Rick slipped the knapsack off his shoulder and unzipped it. “Turkey sandwiches,” he said, handing her the sandwich wrapped in plastic. “There’s fruit in here too.” He handed her an apple.
Maybe he had some compassion to spare for adults after all. Allie smiled at him, but he still hadn’t looked her in the eye.
“Let me see if Betsy wants some first.”
“There’s plenty for you both,” Rick said. “And more where that came from. Let her sleep.”
He was right, but Allie felt wrong to eat when her daughter might be hungry. A peek in the knapsack reassured her. There were two more sandwiches in it, and four apples. She took a cautious bite. Relishing the hot sting of horseradish on her tongue, she devoured the sandwich.
Food had never tasted so good.
She swallowed the last sweet bite of apple and looked up to find both men watching her. “Thanks,” she said, clamping her lips against the explanation that pressed against her teeth.
Without a word, Rick held out another apple. She took it and squirreled it away in her backpack. Betsy might need it later. She did the same with the rest of the food. If Rick and Elijah turned down her plea for help, she and Betsy would be in desperate straits.
She settled on the hay to wait for the foal’s arrival. With a full tummy, her lids drooped and her breathing eased. Maybe she’d close her eyes for just a minute.