Page 47 of Deadly Vendetta

A light sound on the ladder rungs told him he’d soon have more company than just the cats. He looked longingly outside, wishing he could simply spread his arms wide and fly away. Which was nearly as useless as the dream where he saddled Blaze and headed for Denver, then kept on going until he’d been everywhere, seen everything there was to see in the whole United States.

“Hey,” Mom said as she dropped down next to him.

There just wasn’t anything to say in return.

More patient than Job, she sat quietly next to him for a good ten minutes. “Nice place to just come and dream, isn’t it?” she said at last. “Of faraway places, and adventures? When I was a kid, I loved sitting up in the hayloft on rainy days with my books. I’d spread a blanket out and pretend I was camping.” Leaning into him, she gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. “How about you—what do you dream about when you come up here?”

“What does that matter?” He snorted. “Look how you ended up.” The words were out of his mouth before he could catch them, and hung like razor-sharp arrows in the air between them. “S-sorry.”

A heavy silence lengthened, and he almost wished she’d just yell at him and get it over with. When he was a kid, she’d had a low tolerance for back talk and he’d probably accumulated a year of time-outs on a kitchen chair before his twelfth birthday. Instant punishment was better than guilt and regret.

“How do you think I ended up, Alex?”

There was no anger in her voice, just quiet curiosity, but he still waited, expecting a lecture on respect. When it didn’t come he finally said, “I didn’t mean anything.”

“No—tell me.”

The fact that he was responsible for so much of the hardship turned his words bitter. “You’re on-call twenty-four hours a day at the clinic. Have us kids to feed. A ranch to run on your own. Except for old Ben and me, and the two of us probably don’t add up to one good man.”

She smiled at that. “I could never do this without you guys.”

“But you have to say that, ’cause you’re a mom.” He took a deep breath. “You can’t ever go out for parties and fun stuff without ending up on an emergency call in some feedlot. You never travel because you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere with all of this. Doesn’t it make you angry sometimes?”

“What if I told you that I loved being a mom? That I loved being a vet and seeing that I could really help my patients? Or that I think these wide-open spaces are the most beautiful place on the planet?”

“You never wanted anything else? Ever?”

A shadow crossed her expression. “I suppose. Would we even be human if we didn’t dream?” She reached out and laid a hand on his knee. “What do you want, Alex?”

Too many things, and most of them are impossible. To turn back the clock and take back everything I said to Dad before he died. To change what I did that day, so he’d still be with us. To get away from here and never look back, and hope that I could leave all those memories behind.

“Well? There must be something.”

The gentle tone in her voice made him feel worse. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Jumping to his feet, he slapped the loose hay from his jeans as he headed for the ladder. “I need to go work with the foals because I missed yesterday.”

“Alex—”

He didn’t slow down.

* * * *

EVERY DAY FOR A WEEK after he’d seen the black Mustang, Zach had found reasons to head for town. There’d been no further sign of the car, but Katie had certainly enjoyed her series of lunches at the Pink Petticoat.

Today he’d taken her back to Miller’s after lunch, just for a change of pace, and had purchased another new outfit and a pair of pink shoes. Surveillance in Fossil Hill was proving to be an expensive affair, yet it warmed his heart to do anything for Katie that might make her happy.

All the way home from town, Katie held that little shopping bag as if she’d been given the greatest treasure on earth. Zach concentrated on the road ahead and tried to picture the car he’d seen last Wednesday. A dead ringer, he was sure, for one he’d seen in his neighborhood the day of the bombing.

If he could remember that much, maybe his brain was finally starting to clear. Perhaps he’d remember a stranger loitering near the building, waiting to view the results of his handiwork. Or someone on the other side of the street...

Or perhaps he hadn’t really seen the Mustang the day of the bombing, and he was confusing memories from other days. Other totally ordinary days.

At home, he stopped at the mailbox to collect the mail, which included just an electricity bill, then cruised slowly up the narrow lane to the house. Everything looked the same, with the windows and doors closed securely.

The geese came rushing at the yard fence in a great, flapping display, honking madly at the intruder in their territory. The peacock, far less demonstrative, gave a single ear-piercing shriek.

“Quite an alarm system, right?”

Clearly not understanding, Katie frowned. “Bad birds.”

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