Wildflower Bride in Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad
RUNAWAY BRIDE Marry a secure businessman, or become a bunkhouse cook for twenty hungry cowboys on a cattle ranch? When Angelina Brighton chooses the ranch, she runs from the wedding her billionaire father arranged. Angelina won’t marry a man she doesn’t love.Then along comes former special ops solider Tyler Stone, barreling into Dry Creek to bring her back home. Or so she thinks. But Big Sky country is full of surprises for everyone—especially for a faithful gal and rugged cowboy who discover what home really means. Return to Dry Creek: A small Montana town with a heart as big as heaven.
Runaway bride
Marry a secure businessman, or become a bunkhouse cook for twenty hungry cowboys on a cattle ranch? When Angelina Brighton chooses the ranch, she runs from the wedding her billionaire father arranged. Angelina won’t marry a man she doesn’t love. Then along comes former special ops soldier Tyler Stone, barreling into Dry Creek to bring her back home. Or so she thinks. But Big Sky country is full of surprises for everyone—especially for a faithful gal and rugged cowboy who discover what home really means.
“I’ve grown up. I don’t flit from thing to thing like I did in high school,” Angelina said.
Tyler nodded, his eyes measuring her.
“You can trust me,” she whispered. “I know what my feelings are. They’re not going to go away tomorrow because some new and exciting thing happens.”
Angelina watched the emotions roll across Tyler’s face. His disbelief. His uncertainty. Followed by something she thought was hope. And then it was all gone. There wasn’t a flicker of anything left.
“You don’t believe me,” she said, her voice flat.
He swallowed and looked at her. “No, I think maybe I do believe you.”
He didn’t look very certain about it, though, and Angelina blinked back the dampness in her eyes. “I’ll prove it to you. Wait and see. I’m a changed person.”
“But I’m not,” he said.
She could not argue with that. Only God could change the heart of a man. She knew without asking that there would be no more confiding in each other tonight.
Grant me patience, Lord, she prayed silently. Help Tyler to see he needs to change, too.
JANET TRONSTAD
currently lives in Pasadena, California, but she grew up on a farm in central Montana so she knows how dusty the back roads can be in those rural areas. She’s driven down many of them, although not in a red convertible as Angelina Brighton does in this book. Maybe someday. In the meantime, she drives a modest car and enjoys travel, plays and spending time with friends and family.
Wildflower Bride in Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Honor thy father and thy mother:
that thy days may be long upon the land
which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
—Exodus 20:12
I dedicate this book to my buddies in the
East Valley Authors group, my local chapter within the Romance Writers of America organization. The writers in this Azusa, California, group are unfailingly encouraging and persistent. Each year we have an “Outwrite Janet” contest and everyone tries to get down more words than I do in the month. One year a team of two even won the challenge, which delighted me. To call out just some of their names—there’s Beth, Charity, Alison, Shannon, Laura, Julie, Debra, Joy, Riccarla, Carol, Roberta, Mary, Maria, Erin, Sherry and Marlene.
Contents
Chapter One (#u18d3bbc6-f04c-5369-a16a-9c90c6710664)
Chapter Two (#u6cd61789-4e35-5f05-be05-5da79d7b66d5)
Chapter Three (#u60c1bd18-8231-5899-917e-51685dc7ddea)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Tyler Stone loosened his grip on the steering wheel and eased his pickup to a stop at the edge of the small town of Dry Creek, Montana. He would never call this place home again and yet, here he was, looking down the street with a longing he hadn’t expected. All of the old clapboard houses stood silent, their cement steps leading to doors that were firmly closed against the July heat.
“Nothing has changed,” Tyler muttered to himself as he kept staring at the empty street.
It seemed impossible that the betrayal his family had experienced in this town hadn’t left some outward mark on the buildings themselves. But none of the windows were boarded up. Not one house was deserted. Ten years ago, reporters had been knocking on the doors of all the buildings, demanding to know what kind of a woman Tyler’s mother had been that she could kill her husband. The media had little compassion as she went on trial for her life, and Tyler wished he knew which of these doors had opened to spill the gossip about the Stone family. His father’s drunken abuse, their general unhappiness, even the time their electricity had been turned off for lack of payment had all made it into the news.
Suddenly, Tyler saw a flash of movement out of his left eye. A tremor raced through his hands until he realized it was only the reflection of the afternoon sun on his windshield.
“Easy now,” he said to himself as he wiped his hands on his jeans. He didn’t have time to worry about which neighbor had done what in the past. He had enough problems in the present. He had been hired to escort Angelina Brighton back to her home in Boston. If he couldn’t convince her to go, he’d be out of a job. And not a newspaper in the world would even care.
This wasn’t the first time he had been hired to babysit Angelina. She had been his last assignment with Brighton Security, the one right before he went into the military. Her father had received some kidnapping threats regarding her so Tyler had been assigned to serve as one of her bodyguards during her senior year of high school. At nineteen years old, he’d been chosen for the job because he could blend in with the other students and stay close to Angelina. All he was supposed to do in a bad situation was to summon the older Brighton guards who were there in the distance. No one had expected him to stop the kidnapping, identify a stalker and then dance with Angelina at the prom after her date waltzed off with another girl.
He remembered her father had barely blinked an eye at the kidnapping attempt, but he’d almost fired Tyler over the dance. Mr. Brighton had coldly informed Tyler that he had higher aspirations for his only child than for her to marry some half-breed Native American boy with criminal blood flowing through his veins. Tyler didn’t mind what the man said about his heritage; he had always been proud that he looked like his Cherokee ancestors and nothing much could change that.
But he never talked about his mother or the fact that she was in prison for murdering his father. The shame of that burned deep inside him because, when all was said and done, Tyler knew the tragedy had somehow been his fault. He had been twelve years old, which in the Cherokee world was grown enough to be considered a man. But he hadn’t had the nerve to go into the barn that awful day when he overheard his father throwing things and cursing his name. The man had a violent temper, and Tyler still had the bruises from his last beating. So he ran away, back to the house, where he hid. He never knew what his mother had said in response to his father or how long they argued or how she happened to strike that fatal blow. All Tyler knew was if he had gone inside that barn, things would have ended differently.
He glanced down at the photo of Angelina that he had taped to his dashboard. He hadn’t asked for the photo, but her father, his boss, had given it to him anyway. Blonde, blue-eyed and petite, Angelina looked like a fashion doll at twenty-three years old. Tyler was only a year older than her, but he felt like he had been dragged through the bottom mud long enough to be many times her age. Of course, being in the military could do that to a man, especially when he was a special ops guy trying to infiltrate the Pashtun tribal region with only his wits for backup.
Just then a faint humming sound made Tyler look up into his rearview mirror. A car was approaching from behind. His left arm was still healing so he reached over with his right hand to roll up the window on his pickup, hoping whoever it was would drive by. Then the car got closer, and he saw it was a shiny red convertible—one that he recognized all too well.
Angelina was coming into town with the top down on her sports car and her long blond hair blowing in the wind. She always did live with gusto, he thought as he grinned for the first time in months.
When the convertible sped past, he realized Angelina was driving much too fast. What did she think she was doing? He knew she never took the slow way anywhere, but she had to live long enough to make it back to Boston or there would be no paycheck for him.
Tyler turned the key in his ignition. He had barely pulled back onto the road when he saw a sheriff’s car come out from behind the café.
Good, he thought. The law was going to deal with her.
Just then the convertible screeched to a halt and started to back up at the same speed it had gone forward. Tyler had no choice but to pull off the road again. Only Angelina would try to outrun a lawman by putting her car in Reverse. Life was too precious to drive like a maniac and someone needed to tell Angelina that, he told himself. By the time she came parallel to him, the convertible screeched again as she put on the brakes.
Before it seemed possible, Angelina had flung open her door. The dust was still settling when she stepped out of her car. Then she stood up, turned and leaned forward, bracing her hands against the side of her convertible.
“Where’d you get that pickup?” she demanded.
Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t one of them. He knew she couldn’t see him clearly enough to recognize him. She confirmed that when she put up one of her hands to shade her eyes from the sun as she squinted in his direction.
“I’d know that pickup anywhere,” she continued, her voice still strong but sounding less sure of herself. “Not many old black pickups have a dent on one side and an Indian head bumper sticker like that on the other.”
The bumper sticker, a chief in full headdress, was one of the few things Tyler had taken with him when he left the family ranch. He had been determined to be a warrior after that day by the barn. Longing to be self-sufficient and strong, he pledged not to fear anyone, or need them either. If he’d taken his beating like a man, no one would have died and his mother would be home in her kitchen baking pies instead of sitting in some prison.
Tyler opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He couldn’t do much more than breathe. He’d forgotten how vibrant Angelina was when she was stirred up. Her blond hair looked like spun gold and it floated around her as she started marching around the car on her way toward his pickup.
“That’s Tyler Stone’s pickup.” She rounded the side of her convertible and pointed right at him. “He left it at my father’s place and no one has permission to drive it. No one.”
She was fearless.
Tyler finally forced his pulse to slow down. All he owned was this old pickup truck and maybe some interest in his family’s deserted ranch. His modest prospects were the main reason her father had forbid him to show any interest in her. And, on that one point, Tyler had agreed. He was poor and he knew what it was to do without. He could never ask Angelina to give up her trust fund money and he couldn’t accept any of it either. A man had to have some pride. No, they had no choice but to part at the end of her senior year.
“It’s me,” he managed to say.
Her face had gone paler than Tyler liked, but he supposed he had no right to expect her to be happy to see him. She’d called him her jailer more than once. He was used to hauling her out of trouble. He should have told Brighton Security to send someone else.
“But you’re supposed to be dead!” she said with shock in her voice.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Tyler said as he scrambled to make sense of what had happened. “I wasn’t really dead. The notification was a mistake.”
He remembered how he had managed to get the three Pashtun children to safety before the bomb exploded, but he was left standing too close. He ended up with a big red burn along his right side and a piece of metal in his knee that slowed him down considerably. His left arm suffered some damage and he couldn’t easily make a fist on that hand. After the explosion, the parents of those children had carried him to a hospital where he’d lain semiconscious and unidentified for weeks. He’d been gone so long that, when the villagers said he’d been killed in the bomb blast, his unit had given him up for dead. The notification was supposed to say Missing in Action, but somehow things had gotten confused.
“And you never thought to tell me you were still alive?” Angelina exclaimed, her sapphire-blue eyes flashing at him.
“I—ah—” He hadn’t thought she would have cared.
Tyler moved his head, leaning farther out the window, hoping it would ease the situation if she could see him better. That’s when the brim of his Stetson hit the edge of the open window and was knocked off his head. He watched the cream-colored hat fall straight down into the dirt. Without his hat, the sunlight hit his face full strength.
“You really are Tyler Stone.” Angelina’s lips pursed together and she shook her head. Then she did the most amazing thing. She calmly walked over to where his hat sat on the ground, bent down and picked it up, then brushed it off and offered it to him.
“You’ll need this,” she said, her words clipped.
The Angelina he remembered was never that matter-of-fact and controlled.
“I’m sorry,” he managed to say. “I should have thought to—to—”
He really wasn’t sure what he could have done. “You know, I never even had your phone number. How did you expect me to get you the news anyway?”
He certainly couldn’t pass the word through her father, and she must have known that.
“You could have figured it out,” she snapped back. “Before I made a fool of myself.”
“You’re no fool,” he protested automatically.
He never guessed she had known about the death notification from the military. Tyler had asked to list her father’s firm on his papers as next of kin because he didn’t want to disturb his mother in prison. The man had reluctantly agreed. That’s why Mr. Brighton had known to meet Tyler’s plane when he got back from Afghanistan. He never thought anyone but the office staff had ever known or cared about the notification.
Tyler reached out to retrieve his hat from Angelina, but had completely forgotten about his left hand. So when he went to grip the hat, he couldn’t grab hold of the brim. Before he could stop it, the Stetson floated to the ground again.
“Oh.” He heard a gasp and looked up.
“Why, you’re hurt,” she whispered, her voice thick with pity. All of the color rushed back into her face.
Tyler looked down at his hand. The nerves had been damaged and the skin was still puckered red from the burn. His whole hand had a tendency to swell in the heat and look puffy. He planned to start physical therapy after he got Angelina back home.
“I’m fine,” he said because he didn’t know what else to say.
By now, the sheriff’s car had pulled up on the other side of Angelina’s convertible. As the man in the patrol car stepped closer, Tyler realized it was Sheriff Carl Wall. He looked just the same. Then Tyler noticed the sheriff held the leash of a brown dog that had a pink ribbon draped around its neck. At least that was something new. The lawman hadn’t been in charge of animal control duty before.
The canine whimpered a little in the silence. Tyler wondered if the dog sensed the tension.
If there was one person Tyler had never wanted to see again it was Sheriff Wall. The last time Tyler had set eyes on him had been a cold winter day. The sheriff had come out to the Stone ranch and helped carry his father’s murdered body out of the barn. Then he had turned right around and arrested Tyler’s mother.
“I heard rumors you were in the military,” the lawman finally said, rocking back on his heels. “Special Ops, I thought it was. Run into problems?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Tyler didn’t want sympathy from the sheriff or Angelina so he unlatched the door to his pickup and started to open it. “And I got out of the service a week ago.”
The door of Tyler’s pickup swung wide. When he had room, he stepped to the ground and reached out with his right hand to pick up his hat. He brushed the Stetson against the sides of his jeans.
Tyler couldn’t stop his left hand from trembling.
Just then the dog walked over to smell Tyler’s boots.
“Come back here, Prince,” the sheriff commanded with a tug on the animal’s leash.
The dog just raised its head and stared at the lawman.
“What kind of name is Prince for a dog like this anyway?” Tyler asked as he bent down to scratch the canine behind its ears. He was at a loss as to what to say to Angelina, but he didn’t want her to leave either. “Looks more like a mutt to me.”
“It’s a stray,” the sheriff replied with a shrug.
“Prince is my dog now,” Angelina interrupted them both as she took a step closer. “And I thought he needed a boost to his self-esteem after being on his own so I named him Prince Charming.”
“I shortened it to Prince,” the sheriff hastened to add.
“So what did Prince do to earn a ride in the county car?” Tyler asked, letting go of the dog and standing up.
“Prince ran away,” Angelina answered, her voice wavering a little. “The sheriff called me to come get him.”
Tyler had heard that little hitch in her voice before and he knew what it meant. Without thinking, he did what he always did. He turned to pat her shoulder with his right arm. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as smooth with his movements as he used to be and somehow the pat turned into a hug and, before he knew it, Angelina was sobbing against his shirt and he had his arm around her like he had the right. That’s when he forgot himself and kissed the top of her head, right where she parted her golden hair. She smelled of coconut and sunshine so he breathed deep. He looked up to see the sheriff watching.
Tyler glared at the man.
“Hey.” The lawman held up his hands in surrender. “I never come between—” He paused and thought a moment. “What are you two anyway? Boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Angelina gasped and looked up. “Certainly not.”
Her cheeks flamed.
“She was my employer,” Tyler said. “The daughter of my employer, I mean.”
“He saved my life,” Angelina added and burst into a whole new set of tears. “And now—I’ve killed him.”
She stepped away from him at that.
“What?” Tyler blinked. He knew Angelina didn’t always describe exactly what she meant. That was part of her charm. But she made a pretty bold statement for an unarmed woman who couldn’t even see clear enough through her tears to do any damage to a fly.
He looked to her for further explanation and all she did was hiccup.
“I think she means there’s an event planned in your honor for this evening,” the sheriff finally said with a grin. “I hadn’t thought I’d go, but I just might show up. Should prove interesting.”
“I was making those little quiches,” Angelina added in a soft voice. She looked up at him and her eyes shimmered. “The tiny ones, you know—and homemade, not the frozen kind. They’re lots of work. And some sausage-stuffed mushrooms, too. That’s why Prince got away. I couldn’t cook and watch him at the same time.” Her eyes brightened. “I’ve been the relief cook for the Elkton ranch for a month now. It’ll be another month until the regular cook comes back. The ranch has ovens big enough for the appetizers so I volunteered to make them there.”
“You have a job?” He was dumbfounded. Tyler had thought her father must be wrong when he told him that. With her trust fund, Angelina had enough money to live like a princess. “Why?”
“Everyone needs to contribute to the world,” she said, squaring her shoulders.
Tyler lifted his eyebrow. The Angelina he remembered had never worried about the good of the world.
“Jesus didn’t sit around doing nothing,” she added, as if he hadn’t heard her the first time.
“You mean you cook for the church parties?” Tyler asked, figuring that must be her latest passion. Maybe she made appetizers and folded napkins and offered up some kind of a prayer for a ladies tea or something. “The ranch cook has to feed the cowboys and, when they’ve been working, they eat like a pack of wild animals. You can’t be doing that job.”
She didn’t respond, but she looked like she was gathering her defenses.
“So, you’re giving me a party?” Tyler offered her an olive branch. He was rather fond of those little quiches anyway and wouldn’t mind eating a few. He supposed it didn’t matter who Angelina was cooking for. It wouldn’t last. She’d be on to something new before long.
That’s when a realization hit him. “But nobody knew I was coming.”
Not that he couldn’t appreciate a welcome-home party as much as the next guy, but he hadn’t been back in the States long enough to contact anyone but his employer. And nobody in the offices at Brighton Security would give out the location of a guard who was on duty. They’d be fired if they did. If there was a leak, he needed to know about it.
That’s when Angelina took a deep breath and brushed her hand over her eyes. She looked at him through her tears. “I can’t believe you’re really alive.”
“I know.” It was rather endearing, he thought. Maybe she did have some affection for him, after all.
She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand.”
She took another deep breath and still hesitated a moment. “I planned a funeral for you tonight.”
“A what?”
“Well, technically it’s not a funeral since we don’t have your body.” She rushed through the words and then stopped. “At least, we didn’t have your body earlier. I guess we do now. But it’s a memorial service out at your family’s ranch. I have a lot of wildflowers being delivered from Miles City. Some organic ranch by Missoula grows them for sale.”
She looked at him, stricken again by some feeling. “I hope you like wildflowers. I never really heard you say what your favorite flower was.”
“I don’t think I have one,” Tyler finally managed to answer.
The sheriff shifted his stance and spoke. “Roses are nice.”
“I think I need to sit down,” Tyler said and stepped back so he could sit on the sideboard of his pickup. “I’m not sick or anything though. Definitely not dying. Don’t order any more flowers.”
The sheriff chuckled at that.
The day was certainly hot, Tyler thought to himself as he sat there. He’d faced death a number of times in his life, but he’d never expected to face his funeral. The people of Dry Creek might have gossiped about his mother, but that would be nothing compared to what they would say about him now.
* * *
Angelina tried to get a good look at Tyler’s face, but his Stetson shaded him as he sat there. He had dark stubble on his chin, so he probably hadn’t shaved today. She used to be able to tell what he was thinking by the expression on his face, but she couldn’t right now. Suddenly, he lifted his head and his brown eyes flashed at her like he didn’t welcome her scrutiny. She felt a rush of embarrassment and turned away so she wasn’t staring at the man.
She always did seem to do things wrong when it came to Tyler. He didn’t know it, but he’d been her best friend in high school. Of course, after that kidnapping attempt, he was always there, guarding her, so she found herself talking to him more than anyone. She hadn’t even complained too much about him being there because she’d never been as scared as when she’d been grabbed and forced into that black van. If Tyler hadn’t astonished everyone by pulling out a knife from somewhere and throwing it at a front tire on the vehicle, she could have been taken away and maybe even killed.
“I only planned the memorial service because you saved my life,” she finally said. And she had only come to Dry Creek because her best friend, Kelly Norton, had told her that she’d never feel comfortable marrying anyone until she found closure with Tyler. Her father was pressuring her to marry his attorney but she refused to even get to know the man.
“Nice shirt,” Angelina added just to hide her nerves. She didn’t know how much closure she’d have now that Tyler was alive. He was wearing a Western-style beige shirt with pearl snaps on it and the way it opened at the collar showed the strength of his neck. She was glad Kelly wasn’t here to see that or she’d be going on about how handsome and manly Tyler was. Angelina certainly hoped he didn’t think she was snooping around his hometown because she still had a crush on him like she had in high school. She never would have come if she thought he’d show up.
“You don’t owe me for saving your life,” he said finally. “Your father gave me a bonus. I got the engine rebuilt in my pickup with it.”
“Well, I didn’t go to much trouble,” Angelina said, gathering her dignity around her. Fortunately, she hadn’t arranged for anyone to sing at the funeral. And the reception afterward was going to be simple even if she expected fifty or so people.
Then she remembered in dismay that she had ordered the gravestone with the custom-carved angel sitting on it. She had figured there should be some marker for Tyler even if he didn’t have a final resting place for his bones. Hopefully, the receipt wouldn’t be attached when the company delivered it to the ranch. It had been a little expensive, but the salesman had told her it was a memorial forever to a good friend. One of those priceless gestures that are supposed to be important in life.
Now it was just an awkward chunk of marble, nothing but a tribute to her impetuous nature. She couldn’t send it back, either, not with the custom features she’d added.
“You couldn’t have any event out at the ranch without going to some work,” Tyler said as he stood up again. “The house had to be filthy since no one has lived there for over a decade now. It would take a week just to get it in shape.”
“Oh,” Angelina said and felt the rest of the air go out of her. The gravestone might not be her biggest worry.
The sheriff chuckled again and turned to her. “You best take him out to the ranch so he can see how things are. And won’t Mrs. Hargrove be out there rehearsing her prayer?”
“You’re having someone pray over me?” Tyler asked, clearly alarmed. “I don’t have much to do with church and praying, you know.”
“Well, you will at your funeral,” Angelina snapped. She was trying to learn patience, but, really, she had meant the service as a kindness to him. “That poor woman prayed for you every day when you were in the military so you can accept a few words at your funeral. She said she’d prayed for you as a boy and she wasn’t about to stop when you needed it most.”
“She did?” Tyler seemed surprised. “I always liked her. She used to carry lemon drops in her apron pocket for all us kids.”
“Well, I want you to know that Mrs. Hargrove kept right on praying for you even when they said you were dead,” Angelina continued. “That’s why I thought we needed some kind of a service. Lots of people here were praying once they found out you were in the military and they needed closure so they could say goodbye.”
Tyler looked stunned. “Why would people pray for me? I never went to the church here—well, except for that one time to Sunday school in the basement. I thought they’d chase me off if I tried to go to the upstairs meetings. My brothers and I were troublemakers. Everyone knew that.”
“You were soldier of the month in the prayer chain four times last year,” the sheriff said. “They had your picture in the bulletin recently and everything.”
Angelina thought the lawman was enjoying this a little too much.
“How did they get a picture of me?” Tyler asked, looking bewildered. “I had just turned thirteen when my brother and I were sent to that state group home. And I don’t think anyone took my photo back then anyway.”
Sheriff Wall seemed to take delight in pointing to her.
“I gave them the photo,” she confessed. Really, it was no big deal. She’d taken pictures of everyone she hung out with in high school. She might have a few more of Tyler than the other students, but that was just because he was always there.
In addition to the closure with Tyler, part of the reason she’d come to Dry Creek was that she remembered him describing the community. This place had always felt like home to her even though she’d never seen it. The church. The small café. The town was like some distant Camelot just waiting for her. Besides, something was going on in her father’s house in Boston and she didn’t want to stay there. The staff kept whispering and no one would tell her why.
“You go to the church?” Tyler asked her.
“I plan to become a woman of deep faith,” she said. She and Mrs. Hargrove were reading the New Testament together. “At least as deep as possible, with God’s help.”
Tyler looked pained. “You’re not becoming a nun or anything are you?”
“Are you working for my father?”
Tyler nodded.
“Then you must know I’ve become a Christian.” She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Being patient was a hard virtue to learn, but she was determined. “I want to know what God wants me to do with my life, not only what my father wants.”
“Your father is concerned about you and he’s also worried about your trust fund. Said you’d mentioned giving it away.”
“I said I might set up a charitable foundation. Really, my father never paid any attention to me when I was growing up. And now that I’m doing something responsible, he gets all protective.”
“He wants what’s best for you.”
She forced herself to smile and continue. “I have a perfectly ordinary job as a relief cook for the Elkton ranch. Their regular cook is taking care of her ill mother up in Oregon. It was last minute, so they were glad to get someone to fill in for her. I go to church in Dry Creek on Sunday and I read the Bible. That’s my life here.”
“Well,” Tyler said, looking down like there was something interesting about his boots. “Your father said the other reason you’re out here is that you’re supposed to marry some Daryl guy, but you have cold feet.”
“Derrick,” she corrected him with more force than was probably necessary. “His name is Derrick Carlson and my feet are perfectly fine.”
“So what’d the guy do?” Tyler asked, looking up at her.
The sheriff cleared his throat again. Angelina had forgotten the lawman was there.
“I’ll just go take Prince for a walk,” the sheriff said.
“You don’t need to leave,” she told him and then turned back to Tyler. “I have no secrets. Derrick didn’t do anything. Nothing at all. I barely know the man. He asked my father for his permission to marry me. I’m afraid my father is suffering from some stress-related problem. I had to try some wedding dress on just to calm him down. And he booked a small church for the ceremony—he actually scheduled it. He gets so agitated when I say I’m not marrying Derrick that I’m afraid he’s going to have a heart attack.”
“Your father says he’s just concerned about your future.”
Angelina folded her arms. “He’s anxious about something, all right. But it’s not me.”
“Maybe he just wants you to get to know this Daryl guy.”
“It’s Derrick. He wears Armani suits and plays golf with my father. I doubt he even wears T-shirts on the weekend.”
“Well, that’s not a crime,” Tyler said. “And he might have a problem with expressing himself.”
“He’s my father’s lawyer. How much of a problem could he have?”
She glanced over at the sheriff. The man was inching away from them.
Angelina turned back to Tyler. She didn’t have time to worry about making the sheriff squirm. “I think Derrick needs to be investigated. Who was that guy who used to sneak around and find out things for you anyway? You always made him do that before I could date anyone.”
“Clyde?” Tyler looked surprised. “I don’t know if he’s still in business. And that was high school. It was easy to find out who the jerks were back then. Clyde just hung out in the lunchroom when you weren’t around and listened to what they said. He always charged me for his lunch, too, by the way.”
“Well, maybe Clyde can investigate Derrick. And have him check into my father, too.”
Tyler scowled at her. “Again? I thought you would have learned to trust your father by now.”
Angelina willed herself to take a breath. “This isn’t like high school. I’m not asking you to investigate my father because I want to get his attention. I really think something’s wrong. Maybe Derrick is blackmailing him and that’s why my father is insisting I marry the man.”
“What would he have on your father?”
“I don’t know, “Angelina tried to stay calm. “But even though my father is, well, my father—he could still have this secret life I don’t know anything about.”
“I thought we settled that. You’re not adopted. And your father doesn’t have another family hidden away somewhere.”
“But you always told me to trust my intuition. And something’s wrong.”
Tyler closed his eyes. “I meant you should pay attention to your surroundings. If you thought the bush was moving, assume it was.”
“Well, the bush is moving—it’s my father.”
“That’s not—” Tyler started and then stopped. “Fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll call Clyde.”
“Thank you.”
“As I remember, Clyde was taking classes to earn a finance degree,” Tyler said. “Claimed he wanted to end up on Wall Street. He’s probably wearing an Armani suit himself now.”
“We’ve all changed.” She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed Tyler. She wondered if he’d stay in touch with her this time. After high school, he had just ridden off into the sunset without a look back to see if she was standing there watching him leave.
“And even if we give Clyde a free lunch, he’ll want to be paid regular, too,” Tyler said.
Angelina nodded. “You know I have money.”
He grunted at that. “You’re an heiress. I know.”
“That’s not who I am,” she snapped back.
Then she realized she was a working woman now. And she was supposed to have the evening meal on the table by five-thirty in the Elkton bunkhouse. She had a nice beef stew in the oven and had told the ranch hands to be punctual because Tyler’s memorial service was scheduled for seven-thirty. She had insisted they all go, and the foreman had backed her up. When the cowboys hesitated, she had promised them biscuits with honey butter. She didn’t know what the foreman had offered them.
Whatever it was though they would probably still want their biscuits. But before she could make any, there was something else she needed to do.
“I need to go out to your ranch,” she told Tyler. She had to explain things to his family before she could think of feeding the ranch hands. “You may as well ride with me.”
“In that?” Tyler looked at her convertible like it was a leaky tub she was planning to set afloat in a raging flood. “That thing isn’t made for these country roads. And your driving isn’t—”
“Fine,” she interrupted him. Why had she decided to have a funeral for the one man who felt free to criticize her? Maybe he only spoke his mind so freely because they were friends. But right now she didn’t have time to argue. “I’ll ride with you then.”
She walked over and pushed the button that put up the roof on her car.
“Don’t forget Prince here,” the sheriff said as he let go of the dog’s leash.
“He rides in the back,” Tyler said.
“But he could fall out,” Angelina protested as she pushed another button to roll up her windows.
“Not at the speed I drive these roads,” Tyler said. “Only fools go fast on gravel roads. It makes too much dust and ruins your shocks.”
With that he turned his back on her and headed toward his pickup. Prince, the traitor, followed right along with him, his leash and the ribbon she’d put on him this morning, trailing behind.
She wished she could just refuse to ride with Tyler, she thought as she hurried after them. But she needed to prepare him. She really hadn’t intended to meddle in his life, she assured herself as she walked to the other side of his pickup. Of course, it couldn’t be seen as interfering since she’d thought he was dead.
Tyler opened the passenger door for her and she started to climb into the vehicle. He was reasonable. Maybe he would even see the gravestone with the angel as a compliment. It’s not like she had gotten the one with the inset photograph on it, she reminded herself. Now, that would have been extravagant.
She sat down on the seat in the cab. And that’s when she saw the photo.
“You’ve got my picture,” she said, pointing to it. “Right there.”
She hated that picture. Her father’s secretary had taken the shot, and Angelina thought it made her look like a porcelain doll. No one needed a wedding dress with that much netting. But when she complained, her father had merely sent the garment back for adjustments.
“Ah—” Tyler stopped with his hand on the door. “It was for identification purposes.”
“You needed a picture to identify me! We spent my whole senior year together.”
“Well, of course, I know what you look like,” Tyler said as he put his right hand up and ran his fingers through his hair. She remembered that gesture. It meant he didn’t want to admit something.
“Then why did you have the picture?” she asked, some of her pride soothed.
“I was trying to figure out why you were marrying that Daryl guy.”
“Derrick,” she corrected him automatically. “His name is Derrick. And I’m not marrying him.”
“Your father said the wedding was all set and is just postponed.”
“There is no wedding.”
“I have a feeling that will change,” Tyler said gloomily and with that he shut her door.
She watched him walk around the pickup toward his own door. Strangely enough, she kind of liked that he was curious about her and Derrick. She had confided in Tyler when she was in high school, but that was a long time ago. She wondered if he might be just a little bit jealous.
The truth was she didn’t have good radar when it came to men. Mrs. Hargrove was helping her correct that and, when she had gotten to know the older woman, Angelina could see that Mrs. Hargrove and her husband were deeply in love with each other and with God. They had given her hope that she might find someone special like that, too, someday.
All of her life Angelina had felt like she was on the outskirts of something warm and cozy because she was not important to anyone’s happiness. Maybe if her mother hadn’t died when she was young, she would have more of a sense of being part of a family. But it had just been her and her father for as long as she could remember and he had been preoccupied with building his empire. What he had was never enough for him.
Tyler opened his door and climbed into the driver’s seat of the pickup.
Of course, Tyler never needed anyone or anything but himself, either.
Her big problem, she told herself still looking at him out of the corner of her eye, was that she always fell for the bad boys. She liked to believe one of them would draw her so close that his life would be empty without her. Unfortunately, good girls with trust funds should never go for the bad boys. Her father hadn’t given her much advice, or attention, over the years, but he had drilled that one lesson into her teenage head.
She wasn’t sure, but she thought her father had Tyler in mind when he gave her that lecture.
Of course, she doubted Mrs. Hargrove would think Tyler was the one for her, either. It’d be hard for him to claim he was a godly man and that was number one on the older woman’s qualities for a husband.
“Don’t you ever pray?” she asked him now, her voice quiet.
Tyler looked at her and shook his head.
Well, she knew that, she told herself. There was no need for disappointment. She just needed to press forward with the memorial tonight. Maybe that would help her say a final goodbye to Tyler.
Chapter Two
Tyler kept his eyes on the road as he drove. The afternoon sun was low in the sky, but it was behind him so he could see clearly without squinting. His window was down a little and the faint smell of sage drifted in. He was trying to keep things between him and Angelina in perspective. Her tears hadn’t been for him personally. It had been unsettling for her to see someone she thought was dead, but that would pass.
Her feelings had always been delicate.
Besides, her father was right to warn him away from her. If he ever married, Tyler told himself he should marry someone who knew what it was like to survive with little money. Someone who’d grown up in the country like he had. He might still think about Angelina, but that was probably just because that year guarding her had been the happiest one of his life. He hadn’t had many friends in his life and no one bubbled over with happiness like she did.
He tried to relax the muscles on his shoulders. The more he thought about it, the more likely he decided it was that Angelina was going to marry that man. She always was skittish about serious relationships. All of her worry about having the man investigated was probably a stalling tactic, just something to allow her some breathing room. It was hard for her to trust men. Her father might not have spent much time with her when she was growing up, but he was unerring in his understanding of her.
Tyler unclenched his teeth and smiled at her. He’d call her bluff on this one and contact Clyde.
“I forgot how dry it can be this time of year,” Tyler said, feeling the slight movement of air on his face. “It’s nice though.”
He glanced over at Angelina and she was looking straight ahead.
Clumps of scrub grass covered the ground on both sides of his pickup and the prairie spread out into the distance with a few weeds and some tiny wildflowers showing up here and there. He’d guess they were bluebells. Back down the road a piece, he had seen a desert cottontail rabbit, its brown body crouched low beside a fence post. The blue sky faded to white in the heat of the day.
“There’s not too much breeze coming in for you, is there?” he asked her, suddenly realizing he hadn’t found out if she minded if he kept his window open a little. He might not be in her social class, but he had always tried to have common courtesy. And women worried about their hair no matter how much money they had. “I know it can be dusty.”
“I drive a convertible,” she replied, turning to him with a quiet smile. Her hair had fallen into place after her ride to town and he hadn’t even seen her pull out a comb.
“Oh.” He looked down to see if she had a purse with her that might hold a brush of some kind. That’s when he saw she was tapping one foot on the floorboard. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard above the engine, but he knew her well enough to know that any kind of foot tapping was a sure sign she was nervous.
“I see someone worked on the road out here,” he said as he looked up again. He didn’t know what could be wrong. Maybe she was worried he might misinterpret the funeral she was planning for him. He should assure her that he understood she had done it because she remembered him from the past.
Before Tyler could say anything, his eyes were drawn down again. He’d always worn cowboy boots, but he marveled at the sparkly footwear Angelina seemed to find. She had tiny leather straps running over her feet and the largest rhinestones he’d ever seen were cinching the pieces together. At least, he hoped they were rhinestones. With her money, he wasn’t sure that they weren’t some kind of rare jewel.
He reigned in his thoughts and tried to focus. “My father kept calling the county officials about the road before—”
Angelina’s tapping stopped. Tyler winced. He should have known better than to bring up his father. Not everyone was comfortable being reminded of a man who had been murdered.
“Not everyone knows that the gravel needs to be just right for these roads,” Tyler pressed on, turning his eyes completely away from her feet and trying to salvage the conversation.
He could feel Angelina looking at him even though he kept staring ahead.
“For the road to be bladed,” he continued, set in his course, “it needs at least four inches of rock and clay mixture. If the rocks are too small they get pushed to the side and nothing is left but dried dirt. If they’re too big, they can fly up and hit a car that’s following someone. Not that two cars ever meet up on this road anyway. Our ranch is—I mean, was—the only place out this way. Well, except for the Mitchell place and they didn’t drive the roads much, either. It was just Amy—she was my brother’s girlfriend. Sort of, anyway. And then there was her grandfather and her Aunt Tilly.”
“I’ve met Amy and Aunt Tilly.”
Now that he was talking, Tyler realized it was very unusual that a county as poor as this one would have spent money to regrade a gravel road leading to a couple of old ranches, one of them deserted and the other one almost as bad since they hadn’t been farming it much even when he left. There was a barbed-wire fence on both sides of the road and somebody must use that land for grazing, but there still wouldn’t be enough traffic to justify the price of new gravel.
Then it hit him.
“You didn’t pay to have the road done, did you?” He turned to Angelina. “I know you’ve invited lots of people out to the ranch, but it’s not worth having the road repaired just so they have a smooth ride in. They’re probably all driving pickups anyway.”
She had always thrown herself into anything she did, so Tyler couldn’t fault her for that. But he didn’t want his funeral to be one of her charity projects. Just because she had money to burn didn’t mean she should waste any on him. Better she should pick up another stray dog like Prince.
“I didn’t do anything to the road,” she assured him stiffly.
“Good.”
Then Tyler heard her take a deep breath. “About the road—”
His stomach muscles rolled again.
“I think your brother did,” she added softly. “Fixed the road, that is.”
That made him brake to a stop, right there in the middle of the road. A couple of sparrows flew up from the tall grass beside the road and a cloud of dust floated up from his wheels.
“My brother? Which one?” he asked, joy racing through him as he turned to her. He’d been meaning to call both of his brothers on the telephone. He hadn’t spoken to them for years. They hadn’t been close as boys, but he figured that was because they were each trying to survive their father’s wrath in their own way. “Was it Jake? He left a few phone messages on a number I had given him, but I was overseas and didn’t get them until a week ago. Of course, it could have been Wade, too, I suppose. He wouldn’t have my number, but he’d call if he could. Wade’s my oldest brother, but Jake’s right behind him.”
He stopped before he made a blabbering fool of himself.
“I’m sure they’ll both be happy to hear from you.” She turned to look at him then. Her blue eyes were kind and somewhat earnest. “In fact, they’re at the ranch now.”
“Here?” Now that was good news, Tyler thought.
She nodded and hesitated again. “Along with your mother.”
Tyler was glad he’d already stopped the pickup. He would have run into the ditch otherwise.
“They let my mother come? Here?” he said, relief flooding him. Then he realized. “Oh, of course—because of the memorial service.”
He’d heard of prisoners being given a compassionate leave to attend such events. His mother had to be near the end of her sentence anyway. The judge had gone light on her after news of all of his father’s abuse had come out in the trial. Tyler decided it wasn’t so bad to have this whole mix-up if it gave his mother a few days of freedom.
“I hope the memorial service doesn’t give her a problem with the authorities. Now that I’m not dead or anything. Surely they’ll know it wasn’t intentional.”
He turned to Angelina for confirmation. Her eyes were so somber he wondered if his mother was in more trouble than he knew. Then Angelina reached over and put her hand on his arm. He didn’t flinch even though it was his bad arm and he wondered if he wasn’t feeling the burn all over again.
“They released your mother last Christmas,” Angelina said quietly. “She’s free for good. And she has other news, but I’ll let her tell you that.”
Tyler blinked suddenly. He reached over with his good arm to pat Angelina’s hand. He started the pickup again. And then he remembered.
“They really think I’m dead? My whole family?”
Angelina looked miserable, but she nodded.
“I’m so very sorry,” she stammered. “When Mrs. Stevenson—you remember her? My father’s secretary. Well when she finally told me about the death notice, I had to come here and tell someone you’d died. I didn’t know who I’d find, whether you had any family left here or not. But it didn’t seem right for you to die and no one even know about it.”
She spread her arms at that. “You grew up in this part of the country. It’s your home.
“Oh.” She stopped and brought her arms back to her sides. “I put an obituary in the Billings paper, too.”
He swallowed at that. But what was done was done. And he was going to see his family.
Giving him a memorial service wasn’t the worst thing a person had ever done to him. And she meant well. One thing he’d say for Angelina is that she had a heart of gold.
She still sat across from him with her head down so he reached over with his right hand and ruffled her hair like he used to. “It’s all right, Angel.”
“You remember?” She looked up at him in surprise.
“Of course, I remember.” Was there something he was missing? “It wasn’t much of a code name. Not like they have with the Secret Service. But it worked when we needed it to—”
Tyler thought she would be pleased that he had remembered something like that. But she looked aghast so he added, “I never told your father we had a secret code name or anything. It wasn’t like ‘dear’ or ‘sweetheart’ or anything anyway. It was strictly business. Just between us.”
“You never thought of me as your angel?” she asked, her face pinched.
“Well, no,” he stammered. “I knew I was your bodyguard and nothing more. I’d never presume to—that is, I’d never take advantage of our relationship. Not that we had a relationship. It was a business arrangement more than anything even though it did get me through that last year of high school.”
Tyler kept digging himself a deeper hole until finally he wondered if he hadn’t dug too far. “Not that I didn’t consider you a friend.” That didn’t seem enough, either, so he added, “A very kind friend.”
Angelina was just staring at him.
“I get it,” she finally said. “You would have taken a bullet for me, but only because it was your job.”
Tyler flinched. “I wouldn’t say only, but I was getting paid to protect you.”
She nodded and sighed. “I know. It’s just when you threw that knife at the van tire that day—well, it was magnificent, and I couldn’t even see all of it. You were like a superhero. All my friends said so. The ones who were standing there and watching it all. My friend, Kelly, still talks about it.”
She looked at him fully now and there was a softness in her eyes that made him want to protect her all the more. She didn’t need to know he would have taken a bullet for her even if no one had paid him a dime.
“If I’d been paying more attention, they never would have snatched you off the street like that,” he said instead. “I would have had time to call in the backup guards and it would have been handled without all the excitement.”
They were both silent for a moment, remembering those days.
“It was still very brave.” She sighed. “How’d you learn to throw a knife like that anyway?”
“Rattlesnakes,” he answered, thankful to move the conversation along. “You have to be quick and deadly if all you have is a knife and you’re facing a rattler. Growing up here, I always kept a small knife in my boot.”
“You still have the knife?” she asked.
He nodded and puffed his chest up just to amuse her. “Still have the boots, too. You see any rattlesnakes around, you let me know.”
Finally, he got a smile out of her.
Neither of them said anything as he drove the rest of the way to the dirt road that turned off the main gravel road and led up to his family’s old ranch.
He stopped just after the turn. Someone had been busy. The field to the right had been plowed and planted this year. Tall stalks of wheat went back deep in the acreage. He wondered how they were controlling the grasshoppers. On the left side of the driveway, the ground was freshly turned. He’d guess someone was going to plant something else there. And in the distance, behind the barn, he saw a herd of cattle, some of them with calves. The place had never looked so good.
His brothers weren’t just home, they were working the land. And then he saw a house. No, two houses in the far field. He wondered if his brothers had sold some of the ranch.
“They’ll be happy to see you,” Angelina whispered as she sat there with him.
He glanced down before she could see the dampness in his eyes. Even if some of the land was gone, he was glad to see his family on this ranch again.
Just then he heard a thump from behind and he turned around to see the dog leap to the ground.
“Prince!” Angelina rolled down her window and called out, but it was too late.
The mutt was off and running, with so much joy evident in his whole body that Tyler had to smile. “He looks like he’s home.”
“But he can’t live here,” Angelina protested. “I rescued him.”
“He won’t be happy going back to Boston,” Tyler said. “Not if he’s used to running around in the country here.”
“I’m still here for another month.”
“Well, you’re going to break his heart when you leave. That’s all I have to say.”
Tyler didn’t dare think about his own heart.
* * *
Angelina sat in the pickup. “Do you think I’m being selfish? Wanting to keep Prince with me?”
“You’ll need to ask Prince. Maybe he’d like to see the ocean.”
“Everybody should have a dog.”
By then, Prince had run all the way up to the house and another dog came out from behind the barn, barking. Prince didn’t seem to mind the other dog and he started chasing what looked like a Rhode Island Red hen that was now running toward the barn. Angelina smiled as the chicken slipped inside the slightly open door at the side of the building.
Prince nosed at the door, but couldn’t get it to move so he turned his attention to the three pickups parked next to the house.
“I don’t want to startle everyone,” Tyler said then, looking over at her. “Maybe you should go inside first and tell them to all sit down, at least.”
“That’s what I told them to do when I told them you were dead.” Angelina wished she could take that conversation back. “I don’t want to make them think something else is wrong.”
Tyler stopped his pickup next to the other vehicles. “I’m surprised no one’s come outside yet. Maybe they’re not here.”
Angelina shook her head. “They are probably just upstairs in your room getting your boyhood treasures for display. We were going to show them tonight at your service.”
“My marbles.” Tyler looked at her. “That’s all I ever had. Who would want to see my marbles?”
“Well, people do that at funerals. We wanted to give everyone the sense of who you were growing up here. At first I thought of a slide show, but your brothers didn’t have pictures of your childhood.”
“Of course not. Didn’t you hear about the Stone boys? We were fortunate to survive childhood. We didn’t have any picture-worthy moments.”
“Well, yes, I know, but we wanted to celebrate your life tonight. We had to have some good times to talk about. There must be something.”
“Mrs. Hargrove gave me a plate of chocolate chip cookies once when I snuck into her Sunday school class. I think she meant them for the whole class, but she just scooped them all into a bag and gave them to me. I was supposed to be hunting rattlers down in the coulee, but I rode our horse into town and went into the church basement just before she started talking. I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was really surprised.”
“Well, see, that’s a good memory.”
“Later, she offered Jake a whole pie if he would go. I almost figured I’d come in second best on that one.”
“Life isn’t about measuring how much you have against how much someone else might be given.” She might sound a little pompous, but she had to say it. She was turning her life around and that was an important part of it.
Tyler grunted. “Easy for you to say when you can have all the pie in the world just waiting for you.”
“As a matter of fact, it’s not easy for me to say,” Angelina protested. “And maybe I don’t always have all the pie.”
She’d known for a long time that money didn’t buy happiness. But she was just coming to understand that the loneliness she felt when she looked at loving families was the same kind of ache that other girls had in high school when they looked in her closet and thought she had every pair of designer jeans in the universe. It wasn’t just the missing of the other thing—whether it was clothes or money or loving parents—it was when the lack of that one thing tricked a person into feeling like they were not important to God. That’s when people were in trouble.
Just then Prince found another chicken and started to bark again.
“Maybe you should be going,” Tyler said to her as he looked toward the dog. “I don’t think my brothers will put up with much more barking before one of them comes to see what’s going on. The cattle could have gotten out.”
Angelina nodded. “Follow close behind me. It’ll only take me a minute to tell them.”
She opened the door and stepped down to the ground. Without the shade of the cab, the sun beat strong on her. She started walking to the house and, just before she arrived at the side porch, she turned to look back at Tyler. She remembered how difficult it had been to come to the Stone ranch when she first arrived in Dry Creek. If only she had waited to tell everyone that Tyler had been declared dead, she wouldn’t have put his family through the grief of it all.
She squared her shoulders as she knocked at the door.
Lord, help me do this right this time, she prayed as she stood there waiting for someone to answer.
Mrs. Hargrove had assured her she could pray to God about any of the struggles in her day. Prayer was new to Angelina, but she had started asking God to guide her even when she didn’t know how to pray.
Angelina heard footsteps and took a second to motion for Tyler to come. She was sure his family would want to see him the very minute that she announced he was alive.
It would be like Lazarus bursting forth from his tomb, she assured herself, recalling the story she’d just read with Mrs. Hargrove in the Gospel of John. Then she heard someone start to turn the knob on the door. They were all happy to see Lazarus, weren’t they, Lord? Help me to do this the right way.
She was certainly happy Tyler was alive.
Chapter Three
Tyler wondered what people would have remembered about him if he had died in that bomb blast. He had no land to claim him. No wife to mourn him. He didn’t even have a dog like Prince to howl at the moon in his absence.
He frowned, realizing he could have done more to keep in touch with his brothers and his mother. Some people thought hard times brought people together, but his father’s rages had destroyed his family. Birthday cards and Christmas greetings had seemed too impersonal after all they had gone through together. Tyler had been in a group foster home for juveniles with his brother, Jake, for several years so he’d seen him for that time. Then, once he was out of there, Tyler had sent money to his mother from time to time, but his messages had been short and full of forced cheer. He’d gotten his job with Brighton Security with a referral from the foster home, but he didn’t want to talk to his mother about that. He never knew what to say to someone who was in prison.
When Tyler saw someone open the door for Angelina, he decided it was time to get moving. It wouldn’t take her long to explain that the news of his death had been premature. He took a moment to adjust his shirt collar so it would hide more of his burn scar. He didn’t want his mother to worry.
Prince came over to run around him as Tyler started walking up to the house. He liked to listen to the crunch of his boots on the hard dirt. He’d gotten used to not hearing footsteps in the sand of Afghanistan, but it made him feel disoriented. He was a Montana man and glad to hear some sound again, especially on his family’s ranch.
Tyler kept looking around and noticed someone had been busy with the buildings. Growing up, he always remembered this old house as being in need of paint. It had been built by his father’s great-grandparents. Every winter, more white paint would flake off and more of the gray in the boards underneath would shine through. His mother had suggested once that they paint the house, but his father said he didn’t have time for all that scraping. He wanted to wait until the winter weather took all of the paint away and then, he said, he’d be happy to slap some new paint on.
Tyler wondered if the flaking had happened like his father had predicted. If it had, someone had put on a light peach color in its stead. It looked good with the white trim on the windows and porch. Looking down, he saw a border of rocks framing a raised flower bed that grew a few purple plants. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, his mother’s old Christmas rose was still alive at the far corner of the house.
His mother loved flowers and her lilac bushes were green and healthy. Most of the blooms were usually gone by this time in the summer, and he couldn’t find their scent so there had been no recent flowers. He was happy that his mother had been released in time to enjoy her lilacs this spring.
Tyler stepped onto the porch, walked through the screened-in area and faced the back door of the house. Someone had taken a paintbrush to this door, too, and it was white. Whoever it was had put a lot of effort into making it look nice and that made him feel good. It honored the whole place.
Tyler realized he was just standing in front of the door, stalling. He didn’t know if he should knock or just wait a minute and slip into the kitchen. He could hear people talking, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He didn’t want to startle anyone by appearing before Angelina had time to tell them what had happened.
Finally, he decided to open the door just a little so he could hear where she was in her explanation.
“It’s too nice to keep out in the barn,” a man’s voice said.
Tyler wasn’t sure which of his brothers was talking, but it sounded like a few people might be gathered in the kitchen.
“Well, of course, we can’t keep it there,” another man’s voice responded. “I’m just saying we don’t want to put it in the cemetery on top of Dad’s grave. People will think its Tyler resting underneath it.”
“You’re right. We can’t do that to our baby brother,” the other voice agreed.
“Before you do anything,” Angelina said, and Tyler could hear the stress in her voice, “I have an announcement—”
“Could you pass me that pitcher of water first?” his mother asked. She sounded hoarse. “I’m a little dry.”
Tyler smiled. He recognized her voice; it had always had a lilting quality to it.
“Of course,” Angelina said. “Let me pour it for you.”
“I’m going to miss him, you know,” one of his brothers said, sounding mournful.
“I know what you mean,” the other brother answered. “We haven’t seen him for a while, but the world was a better place with him in it.”
Now that’s what a man likes to hear when he’s dead, Tyler thought to himself in satisfaction. He wouldn’t want to cause his family any prolonged grief, but it was nice to know he would be missed. He wasn’t so sure about the baby brother comment, but the overall tone was nice.
“Actually, there’s no need to miss him,” Angelina said, her voice brighter now.
“Well—” One of his brothers started to protest.
“He’s here,” Angelina finished quickly.
There was a pause.
“You mean because of the gravestone?” the other brother asked. “It’s nice and everything, but I’ve never believed a man’s spirit comes back and hangs around any place.”
Someone pushed their chair back and Tyler could hear the squeak it made on the linoleum.
“Your great-grandfather would have believed,” his mother said. “But then he was pure Cherokee. And the Bible doesn’t give us any reason to think the dead stay on the earth as spirits. As nice as the sentiment is, though.”
“I don’t mean his spirit.” Angelina’s voice grew more desperate as she went on. “Tyler is here. Alive. With us.”
Now, there was absolute silence. It never was easy to tell the Stone family anything, Tyler thought with a grin. Once they had their minds made up to grieve, they would stay the course no matter what anyone said.
“It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” his mother finally said, her voice polite.
“I almost thought I heard his footsteps a minute ago,” one of his brothers added cautiously. “He used to love those boots of his. I wish we had them. We could bury them under that gravestone and it would be almost like he was here.”
Well, Tyler told himself, there was never a better moment to enter a conversation. He opened the door and stepped inside the kitchen. Angelina had done as she said and had everyone sitting around the table that stood in the middle of the kitchen. Unfortunately, she was the one facing him and the others were looking down, probably not wanting to talk anymore about how he was or wasn’t there.
“Nobody’s going to bury my boots,” Tyler said.
His mother gasped so hard it sounded like a squeal. Jake spilled the glass of water he had in his hand. Wade half stood from his chair, looking startled and fierce.
Tyler glanced around quickly. The kitchen had been his favorite room in the house because that’s where his mother usually was. It had been painted light green since he’d been here last and it smelled like cinnamon. The appliances were all white and looked new. Someone had painted a red bird on the wall by the refrigerator.
“I paid good money for my boots,” Tyler finally said, standing there grinning. “They’re not going into the ground.”
“Well, praise the Lord!” his mother whispered. Tears were starting down her cheeks.
Tyler nodded and took a step closer to her. She stood then and turned to embrace him.
“It’s okay,” he said as he felt her tremble in his arms. She seemed more fragile than he remembered. He hoped she couldn’t feel the weakness in his left side. She had enough to worry about without adding him to her list.
As soon as he stepped back to give his mother room to breathe, Jake was there, hugging him. Then Wade stood beside them, slapping them both on their shoulders. Fortunately, he’d chosen Tyler’s right shoulder so he didn’t hit the burn area.
“Easy,” Angelina said as she stood up then. She took a step closer to them. “His shoulder is hurt.”
Jake and Wade both stepped back.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Wade said, looking stricken. “I never thought.”
His brothers looked at him as if he was going to fade away.
“I’m okay,” he hastened to say. “Just a little—accident.”
Everyone just kept looking at him.
“I heard it was a bomb,” Jake finally said. Then he turned to Angelina. “In fact, she told me it was a bomb.”
Tyler could see where this was going. “Angelina only passed on what the military sent to her father’s firm.”
His mother was starting to frown as he talked.
“But that’s what I never understood,” she said. “Isn’t the military supposed to notify your next of kin?”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” Tyler explained. “So I listed Brighton Security as my next of kin.”
“Not bother me—” his mother said, her voice rising. “I’m your mother. I’m supposed to be bothered if you’re dead.”
“And just who is this Brighton Security?” Wade demanded. “If you didn’t want to put Mom down as your next of kin, you should have listed me.”
“I didn’t have anyone’s address,” Tyler said in his defense. Maybe he’d taken his independence too far, but he never thought the military would need to contact someone anyway. “And Brighton Security is where I work.”
“But that’s—” His mother still sounded confused. “Isn’t that Angie’s last name?”
“Angie?” Tyler didn’t understand. “You mean Angelina?”
Even in high school, Angelina had never allowed anyone to shorten her name. Not that many tried. He turned to look at her now.
“I didn’t want to be different,” she said. “Everybody here is Amy or Susie or Mary or something short. Even your mom is Gracie Stone.”
All he could do was shake his head. Here Angelina was, a bona fide rich society woman, and she wanted to sound like she’d grown up in Dry Creek. Kids here spent their summers dreaming about going to the big city. He could suddenly sympathize with her father. Mr. Brighton had worked for decades to give his daughter every advantage possible, and all she wanted was to blend into a small Western town like Dry Creek.
“I think I need to sit down,” Tyler said as he walked over to the chair Wade had been sitting in. He looked at his brother. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Anything for you,” Wade said.
Tyler closed his eyes, feeling tired. The doctors had warned him he’d have some bad days for a while, even before he began his physical therapy. He doubted they’d counted on this kind of a day, though.
“I should make you some tea,” his mother said.
Tyler nodded, not bothering to open his eyes.
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