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Troy’s stepmother lived in a ritzy old sub-division close to downtown Fort Worth. As his shadow
brought them to a stop in her driveway, he glanced toward the park across the street and spotted another black unmarked SUV with dark windows parallel-parked against the curb. A dude the size of a refrigerator his peers called “Baby Cakes” was probably inside. His given name was Angelo. He was half of Mom’s security detail.
Troy strode toward the front door and pressed the doorbell. She answered dressed up as usual, her face perfectly made up, her straight silver hair touching her shoulders. Tonight, she was wearing something red and festive-looking. Even when she lived at the Double-Barrel and had done much of the cooking and some of the cleaning, she had always looked as if she had stepped out of a bandbox. Her appearance belied that she was in her late fifties. Why had his dad been such a hound? Why hadn’t he been satisfied with the good-looking woman he already had?
She greeted him with a wide smile and open arms. “Troy. Come in.”
Smiling back, he lifted off his hat. “Hi, Mom.” They hugged, touched cheeks and kissed air, laughing and back-patting. As usual, she smelled like a bouquet.
She stepped back and looked past him. “Did you see Angelo out there?”
“Across the street.” Troy set his hat on a fancy carved table.
“Good, I suppose. As much as I dislike the reason he’s here, he does make me feel safer now that Drake has moved away.” She hesitated. Staring at the front door, she shook her head. “I just don’t know. It’s so hard to believe we’ve come to this. When is it going to end?”
Good question. Circumstances being what they were and Drake being the kind of man he was, Troy suspected that some kind of paid security would be present around the Lockhart family members from now on. “Before long, probably.”
“It’s driving me crazy. It’s such an intrusion. I feel like I can’t do anything without someone watching me.” She did an about-face and smiled up at him again. “Let me take your coat.”
Troy reached into the pocket for her gift, then shed his coat. She hung it in the entry closet, turned back to him and curved her hand around his arm. “So. Is this our Christmas visit? Or a celebration of your big win in the World Finals?”
“I guess it’s both.”
He followed her into her living room, lit to an amber glow from lamps on two sofa tables and light from several chunky candles. A spicy scent that was always around during the Christmas holidays permeated the air.
A gas log fire burned in the fireplace. Troy made a mental grin. No way would she ever burn real wood. She had complained about the messiness and inconvenience of the wood-burning fireplaces at the Double-Barrel.
Her home, though old, had a regal feminine appearance and a calm atmosphere, unlike the rustic Double-Barrel ranch house she had left behind. She must not have hated the ranch too much because she still had a few paintings and pieces of furniture she had taken when she made her escape years back. Troy recognized them.
He handed her the gift bag. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”
“Aww,” she said, smiling as she took the gift. “Thank you, Troy. It touches me so much that you do this. I have a present for you, too. Let me get it.”
She walked over to a thick fancy Christmas tree that filled the far corner of the room and reached down for a small wrapped package. She returned to where he stood and handed him the gift. “I mailed presents for Drake and Pic and Katherine down to the ranch last week. I didn’t send yours because I knew you’d be by.”
Just as he always gave his stepmother a present, ever since she had moved away from the ranch, he had always stopped by her home after the world finals for a one-on-one visit away from the chaos that usually prevailed when the whole family got together.
“Would you like a drink before supper?”
“Sure. Whatever you’re having is fine. Make it light. I don’t drink much these days, you know.”
“Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
She walked out of the room and he sank to the comfortable cushions of a light-blue velvety sofa. She soon came back with two heavy glasses showing a couple of inches of amber liquid. “It’s Crown.”
Troy took the glass and sipped, but she swallowed half her drink then set her glass on the coffee table. “I was so happy about your win.”
“You didn’t see any part of the show?”
Her head shook. “I thought about going to watch this year, especially the finals with you riding your own horse. I always liked seeing the good horses and riders perform. And with both you and Kate having horses competing. ... well, it was chilly and I’m not in touch with cutting horse people anymore.”
But the day of the finals had not been cold. The temperature had been in the sixties. When she was younger, she had always gone to the shows, had known a lot about the participants, but for some reason, she had stopped attending well before she moved away from the Double-Barrel. Was the real reason because Bill Junior had something going on with some woman Mom knew in the show horse world?
“It’s been a little chilly all right,” he said, excusing her absence. “Those concrete benches would’ve felt like a deep freeze on your bottom if you were sitting as a spectator.”
“Bill Junior told me how hard you and Katherine worked to come up with a winning horse. He told me what you paid for semen. My God, Troy—”
“I didn’t argue or give much thought to the cost. Sandy Dandy was the stud Kate picked out and you know her. When it comes to genetics, she knows her stuff.”
“That could be said of you, too.”
A parade of the many horses he had worked with passed through his mind. “You know, Mom, it’s weird. All these years I’ve been teaching horses, there must be hundreds I’ve trained. But I’m just now starting to feel it in here.” He placed his fist over his heart. “I’m communicating with them and getting the most out of them in a way I haven’t before. It’s a spiritual thing, like we’re on our own special wave length. It’s hard to explain. Too bad most of them go home with owners who are half unconscious.”
“You have a gift, Son. Bill Junior believed it even when you were a boy.”
“But it’s no big deal, really. Treating them with kindness and quelling their fears is something every horse owner should know.”
“I know. I’ve heard that dozens of times from Silas and your dad.” Smiling, she picked up the gift bag he had handed her and began to untie the ribbon. “Let’s open our presents.”
“You bet.” He fumbled the square gift she had handed him through his fingers. “You’re going to Santa Fe again?”
“I sure am. Last year, it snowed up there and it was so beautiful.”
Last year, because of her absence, Dad had been shitfaced and depressed most of the holiday. He hadn’t even rallied to join Troy and his brothers and sister for hunting. The blow that had laid him low was heavier than his wife not being present for Christmas. What had pushed him all the way into a bottle of Jack Daniel’s was her decision to celebrate the holiday with her boyfriend. She’d had a boyfriend for years and Bill Junior knew any number of women, yet, both of Troy’s brothers believed their parents still slept together, like friends with benefits. Troy would never figure out their relationship.
He stopped his own effort at opening the package she had handed him and gave her a look. “You don’t want to reconsider and spend Christmas with us?”
“I meant it when I said I’m never going to the Double-Barrel for Christmas again. I didn’t miss it last year and I’m sure I wasn’t missed.”
She was wrong about that. Last Christmas was the first Christmas ever that she hadn’t been at the ranch and the holiday had felt as if it had a hole in it. The Double-Barrel might not have been her home for years now, but until last year, she had always come back for Christmas.
But Troy wouldn’t get into the reasons—and she had many—for her not being there. As far back as Christmas-before-last, she had intended to go to Santa Fe with her boyfriend, but for Kate’s sake, after her barn burned and she got hurt, Mom felt the family needed to be together to support her. Thus, she had canceled her trip. Then, before they even sat down for Christmas dinner that year, Mona Luck, one of Dad’s girlfriends from Drinkwell, had shown up drunk and all hell had broken loose.
That Christmas ended with a loud cussing fight between Mom and Dad. In a rare fit of anger, Pic had thrown the fancy Christmas tree out into the yard and Drake had driven Mom back to her home in Fort Worth. Troy was the one who had scooped up and delivered Mrs. Luck back to her house in Drinkwell. Mom had hardly been back to the ranch at all since then.
They busied themselves opening their respective gifts. As she pulled a cloud of tissue paper from the gift bag, she looked up at him and smiled. “Except for Bill Junior, you’re the only one who gives me presents, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When she reached the small box and opened it, her breath caught. Whew! She liked it. He had been anxious, waiting for her reaction. Satisfaction settled within him. She hesitated a few seconds, then dabbed a tear from one eye with her pinkie fingertip. “Thank you, Troy. This is lovely.”
“When I saw it, I thought of all you’ve done for me and where I might be if you and Dad hadn’t taken me in. I just want you to know I think about it often and I’m grateful.”
She wiped another tear from her eye. He looped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “C’mon now. It’s Christmas. You’re not gonna cry on me, are you?”
She gave a great sniff. “No, I am not. This is a happy occasion.” She placed her hand on his arm. “But I want you to know something, Troy. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this in so many words. I was so distressed when you first came to live with us. I don’t want to go into details, but I’ll just say those were dark days for me.”
“I know, Mom. I understand—”
“What I want you to know tonight, Troy, is that looking back, I no longer resent Bill Junior bringing you to share our home and our lives. My only regret is that we never adopted you. He wanted to. It was my fault that we didn’t.”
Troy had known for years that she was the one who kept his father from officially and legally adopting him. That a man had to adopt his own son to give him his name was just plain ridiculous, but a lot of things in life were ridiculous Troy had discovered. “Mom, c’mon now. All of that doesn’t matter now.”
Only a sort-of lie. It mattered less now, but back when he was younger, it had mattered a lot. Even as recently as two years ago, that fact was as painful as a stone in his hoof. “Lord, it was over twenty years ago. And you and Dad have never treated me any different from the way you treated your real kids. I know that.”
“Don’t say that. You are one of our real kids, Troy. You’re Bill Junior’s son the same as Drake and Pic. He never thought any differently. And you’re my son, too. I’m proud of you and your accomplishments. I like to think I’m partly responsible for the good man you’ve become.”
“I believe that, Mom, and I think most other people do, too.” Thinking of Dorinda Fisk, her husband and her friends caused Troy to add a caveat. “That is, the ones who still think I’m a good man. There was a time a while back when I wasn’t sure how I felt, but I finally worked it out in my hard head.” He tapped his temple with his index finger.
She sniffed again and tucked her hair behind her ear with her fingers. She looked down at the brown heavily lacquered gift box in his hand. He had removed the wrapping paper but hadn’t opened the box. M. J. LEDDY was printed in gold across the top, so whatever was in the box would be something he liked.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
“You must’ve got this a while ago. Leddy’s is out of business now, you know.” He lifted the lid off the box and found a silver and gold money clip, the silver heavily carved with a western design and accented with a gold Texas Star. A narrow banner unfurled across the bottom on which his name was engraved—Troy W. Rattigan. A tiny bubble of joy burst inside his rib cage. “Hey. I lost mine a few months ago. Or maybe somebody stole it. How did you know?”
“Pic mentioned it. He said you thought someone stole it along with the cash that was in it, so I had your name put on this one. Maybe that will keep someone from taking it.”
Troy nodded. “The one that disappeared didn’t have that.”
“I know. That’s what Pic told me.” She patted his arm again. “Let’s go into the kitchen. Supper’s all ready. I’ve had a roast cooking in the Crock Pot all-day.”
She stood and started for the kitchen. He followed, studying the excellently crafted design on the money clip and the star of buttery fourteen-karat gold.
“I hope you don’t mind eating in the breakfast room,” she said. “Since it’s just the two of us, it’s a lot cozier than that big ol’ dining room.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “You know me. I’m not into formal. Half the time, when I sit down to eat at home, I’m in front of the TV and covered with horse shit.” They laughed together.
“Well, that never happened when you kids sat down to a meal at my table. I’m sure you remember that.”
She had been the disciplinarian. No one was allowed to eat if they weren’t washed and wearing clothing free of barn dirt.
The round table was already set with red and green dishes. The bottle of Crown stood on the counter. She poured a dollop into her empty glass and sipped. She continued talking. And sipping. “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll just get a couple of things off the stove.”
He took a seat and watched as she put the finishing touches on their supper.
“You had a milestone birthday this year,” she said. “You and Kate turned thirty. She still doesn’t have a man and you still don’t have a woman to look after you.”
“I’ve got Sergio’s wife Tania. She sees that I’m taken care of. Her cousin cleans my house, takes care of my clothes, does my laundry. Sometimes, if Tania’s cooking up something for Sergio and his brothers, she includes me.”
“That isn’t what I meant. What I’m talking about is affection and companionship. Drake and Pic have found that. Why haven’t you and your sister?”
Her attempts at matchmaking for Drake and Pic with disastrous consequences were well known in the family and in Pic’s case, the whole town of Drinkwell. The last thing Troy wanted was her trying to do the same for him. She hadn’t yet attempted to pair him or Kate up with anybody. “Guess I’m not looking very hard and Kate’s too ornery.”
“Hm. She’s edgy like her father. And her big brother.”
She brought a platter holding a perfectly cooked pot roast with potatoes and carrots and onions to the table, one of his favorite meals as a kid. “Hope you’re ready to eat. I made those rolls you kids used to like so much. Also, a red velvet cake. I hope you still like that.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“Bill Junior told me you had stopped seeing your girlfriend in Dallas.”
Shit. Just as he thought, she and Dad still shared more secrets than anybody knew. So she knew about Dorinda, but exactly what did she know? “Yes, ma’am. She wasn’t really a girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend” was a label his brothers had stuck on Dorinda, along with a derisive sneer when they mentioned her. Troy had never called her a girlfriend. Hell, she had a husband. Still, because of her, in the past two years, he hadn’t sought or felt a need for a relationship with a woman nearer his own age. Relationship games scared him. Dorinda had satisfied his carnal needs.
“Go ahead and eat,” his stepmother said.
His taste buds singing, he served himself a chunk of roast beef and filled his plate with vegetables.
“Have you found another girl?” she asked. “I remember what those horse shows are like. I’m sure the ladies chase after you.”
Indeed, women did pursue him. In the cutting horse world, he was a minor celebrity, unmarried and part of a wealthy family. Also, he and his horses were consistent winners. Those commonly known facts drew a little cadre of buckle bunnies whether he wanted them or not. Now that he and Dandy Lady had won the World Finals, no doubt there would be more. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. I’m so busy these days, I don’t have a lot of time for women.”
He tucked into his meal. She returned to the stove and continued to chat as she placed several crowns of bright green broccoli on a dish. One slipped out of her tongs and landed on the floor. “Oops,” she said and giggled. She bent to pick it up and grabbed the edge of the counter to keep from falling.
She drank considerably more and more often than when she had lived at the Double-Barrel. Troy quickly got to his feet, walked over and helped her straighten. “You okay?”
She waved him off with a flop of her hand. “I’m fine.”
Troy hesitated, looking into her eyes. For sure, she was a little tipsy and her words were starting to slur. “Maybe you should back off the Crown for a little bit.” He eased the half-empty bottle out of her reach. “Tell you what. Let me do this.” He took the tongs and finished placing the broccoli crowns on the dish with the others. He chuckled. “You have a few toddies before I got here?”
“What?” she said. “N—no. Of course not. I only drink on special occash—occasions.”
He picked up the dish of broccoli and a basket of fragrant yeast rolls and carried them to the table. He returned to where she still stood hanging onto the counter’s edge. He gently grasped her elbow. “Let’s have a seat.”
He walked her to the table and helped her seat herself adjacent to him. She picked up a small pitcher, reached across and poured a copious amount of creamy sauce on his serving of broccoli just as she had done when he was a boy. “Here’s saush for the broccoli.”
He caught her wrist and lifted the pitcher of sauce from her hand. “That’s okay, Mom.”
“I suppose Drake and his wife and baby will be at the ranch for Christmas,” she went on as if she hadn’t just smothered his plate with sauce for the broccoli. “Good Lord, Little Will is over a year old and I’ve never seen him.” She gave a laugh Troy classified as bitter. “I still can’t believe they named him the Fourth.”
“Yeah. William Drake Lockhart, IV is kind of a mouthful for a little kid. I suggested they call him ‘Quad,’ but they had already decided on Will.” He grinned and winked at her.
“I talked to Bill Junior earlier today. He said Drake’s wife is pregnant again.” Her voice broke. “Another son.”
Tears showed in her eyes. Damn. She was hurt. And drunk. “Yes, ma’am. She’s about ready to drop. February, they said.”
Holding her fork suspended, she stared at him for a few seconds, then ducked her chin. Was she going to cry again? She cleared her throat and returned to her meal. “This is not how I planned for my relationships with my grandchildren to be.”
“Mandy will probably be pregnant before long. Maybe you’ll have a relationship with Pic’s kid.”
“I wonder why she isn’t pregnant already. Bill Junior told me she wants to be.”
Instantly, an image of Mandy with Chris Taylor flashed in his mind. “Yeah, it’s no secret. It’ll happen before long. Once people start co-habiting, that’s usually the result.”
Mom gave a little laugh. “Bill Junior’s told me about all the time they spend having sex. I don’t suppose you’ve heard why she hasn’t gotten pregnant. I mean, if they’re having sex so often...”
Mom had never been shy in discussing sex with her sons. Until the day Drake left home for college, she had lectured him daily, usually at the breakfast table, about the hazards of teenage sex and knocking up his steady high school girlfriend, Tammy McMillan. She had even sent Drake off on a summer study trip in Britain trying to prevent it.
The day after Troy’s thirteenth birthday, she had come home from town with a box of condoms, handed them to him and told him to go find his father and discuss what he, Troy, should do with them. He had been mortified.
In truth, he hadn’t needed a father/son conversation about the birds and the bees. Besides living on a cattle and horse ranch from the time he was eight years old, where animal breeding was the livelihood and cattle and horse breeding in particular was discussed or practiced every day, he had sexually-active big brothers.
When Mom had handed him the condoms, there wasn’t much left for Dad to tell him about sex and the man wasn’t enough of a hypocrite to lecture Troy on morality.
Mom was waiting for an answer to her question. Troy was rarely embarrassed by conversations about natural processes even when they applied to human beings. Still, this was his stepmother talking. Warmth crawled up his neck. He shook his head. “No, ma’am, but I don’t pay a lot of attention to what’s going on at the ranch house. I’ve got enough to take care of at my own house.”
That wasn’t a fib. He disliked the never-ending drama that had always existed at the ranch house and did to this day. He found the atmosphere suffocating, though the house was a sprawling structure. He helped out if they needed an extra hand and he had a standing invitation for meals, but he hadn’t lived there since he left home for college.
During those college years, he rented an apartment in Stephenville and never really moved back to the ranch house to live permanently. He had needed his own barns and grazing land for the horse rescue and training operation he planned to start after he graduated.
He had made a substantial amount of money on stock market investments. After all, he had earned a degree in finance and had a knack for picking winners. Using his stock market earnings for seed money, he had started his small business.
As his rescued horse population expanded, he began to search for land to buy when, to his surprise, the family voted to deed him outright ownership of an old homestead Bill Senior had bought from an estate years back—a quarter-section of grazing land on which sat an old four-bedroom house.
A Double-Barrel ranch hand with a family had lived there for years. After they moved out, the house had sat vacant for a couple of years. All Troy had to do was remodel it and build barns. As a college graduation present, Drake sent down a designer and a construction crew who built his main barn and turned the house into the rustic sanctuary that Troy loved.
“Let’s change the subject,” Mom said. “I don’t need a reminder at Christmas that my kids don’t share their lives with me.”
They discussed the horses he had in training and his successes in the arena. After they finished the meal, his stepmother rose and took their plates. “Time for cake.” She walked over to the layer cake and stared at it a few seconds, then turned to him. “You’d better cut it.”
“Right.” He got to his feet, walked over to the counter and sliced into the cake. They returned to the table with two plates holding two huge slices. “How are you doing with your clinics?” she asked. “I’ve heard you’ve held several this year all over the place.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ve done some traveling. Doing horses a favor, you know.”
“And your books? Are they still selling well?”
Published by a small specialty press, the books hadn’t made him much money, but to make money hadn’t been why he had written them. They were teaching books. Seeing how many horse owners misunderstood and even mistreated their horses out of ignorance had driven him to write them. He donated all of his profits from the book sales to his animal rescue foundation. “Yes, ma’am. They’ll probably always sell a little bit. Most people who have horses for pets will never know how to treat them or teach them.”
“Sounds like you’ve had another successful year. Good for you, Son.” She saluted him with her wine glass.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s been good. Thank you, Mom.”
Troy left his stepmother’s house a little after ten. The first thing he did after he settled into the Redstone SUV’s backseat was check his phone for text messages. Nothing else from Sarah. No new message from Jordan Palmer.
His thoughts drifted to his stepmother. She might finish the bottle of wine they’d had for supper and she might even finish off that bottle of Crown. He sighed. She was an unhappy woman. If Drake weren’t so damn hardheaded, he and Mom could patch things up and she could be a part of her grandkids’ lives.
