Page 42 of Silent Deception
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ryan led Jazz overto the electric walker, snapped one of the dangling lead chains to the colt’s halter, and gave him a congratulatory pat on the neck. “Good job, fella.”
Outside the enclosure, he flipped a switch to start the rotation of the octopus-like metal arms that radiated from the central motor. The colt obediently set off at a slow walk around the circular path. In a half hour, he’d be cool and dry, ready to turn out into a corral for the night with his kindergarten-level buddies, who were all in training, too.
Ryan shouldered the colt’s cotton lead rope and started for the tack room, feeling better physically than he had in a long time.
Months of surgeries and therapy had put him back on his feet again. Leaving behind the wheelchair, and then his cane, had been victories hard won.
He knew he’d never forget the horrors of what he’d seen and done in the service. His shoulder and knee might never be right again. But on the back of a young horse, he’d felt trulyalive...as if he was finally able to decide his own future without the shackles of permanent disability holding him back.
He’d stepped into the tack room when he heard a soft rustle, and the presence of another person suddenly registered. He turned back into the darkened aisle.
Partway down, almost hidden in the shadows, a tall, thin figure stood at one of the stalls, petting the nose of the horse inside. She turned. “Hello, dear.”
A multitude of emotions surfaced—surprise, delight, a touch of irritation at seeing her standing so casually here as if she’d never left. “Hi, Mom.”
She sauntered forward, all angular sophistication and grace, her salt-and-pepper hair swinging in an oblique cut at her jaw. Her rough-woven cream sweater and beige slacks looked more Houston than Homestead. “It’s been a long time, dear.” She rested her slender fingers on his shoulders, brushed a cool kiss against his cheek, then leaned back to survey him. “You look marvelous.”
Marvelouswasn’t the way he felt right now, but he returned her smile. “As do you.”
Her face seemed to fall for a split second, then she rallied, a conspiratorial smile deepening the feathery wrinkles at her eyes. “I do believe I surprised your father this morning, the old goat. I probably took two years off his life.”
“I’m not sure he’d want to give you that pleasure.”
“Score,” she said lightly. “Although it might surprise you to hear that I really don’t wish him any harm.”
“I remember. You were the best of friends.” He laughed. “As long as there were at least three hundred miles between you.”
“Divorce was the right choice,” she agreed. She fingered the heavy gold chain at her neck. “For the two of us at least, but not for you boys. I’ll always regret some of the decisions made back then.”
He doubted that. Charlotte Gallagher had been a free spirit, a strong woman with a streak of stubborn independence that matched Clint’s, and they’d been like gasoline and flame. They’d married late and should have been mature enough to work through their problems. The wonder was they’d stayed together long enough to produce three children.
“What brings you here?” He smiled. “Or do you come out often, now?”
“Youarejoking.” She pulled a face. “I see the boys, of course, and Trevor’s family, but I choose to not overstress your father by arriving when he’s in town, and I always stay with Trevor. I believe Clint prefers it that way, and so do I.”
The Gallagher home had been a shining example of marital bliss—and where it could lead, if everything went wrong. Armed camps. Careful awareness of enemy lines. At least with the Gallagher money, there hadn’t been the financial devastation of divorce he’d seen in the lives of some of his buddies in the service.
Long separations and the continual stress of knowing a loved one was facing constant danger certainly took its toll.
“But you’re staying here this time?” he asked. When she nodded he raised a brow, imagining the silence and solitude of the big old house erupting into World War III.
“I heard you were here, and I knew I had to come. It’s been so many years since we spent any time together.” Her breezy veneer seemed to crack just a little. “I know I wasn’t very attentive when you were tykes, and that your father and I can’t undo how we handled things. But I’d like a chance to be with you for a while.”
She studied him, the faint hope in her eyes making him feel as if perhaps he should hug her, though his first impulse was to shake her hand. The awkward moment lengthened, trapping him as if his boots had been glued to the floor until she released him with a light laugh.
