Chapter 6
Thanks to Canyon Bill, Kayla had a fully functioning round pen again. So far, her only actual thanks to him had been to not throw him off her land. She could see vaguely through the trees that he was still camped over there. She heard his motorcycle coming and going from time to time.
Today, she had a couple coming by for a trail ride. There was an orange grove down the road that allowed her to bring guided rides through. She stepped out onto the side porch, and goddam if Canyon Bill wasn’t out there working on her barn. She marched down the crushed-shell driveway in flip-flops, which were useless in a barn, but faster to put on than boots.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Fixin’ your roof,” he replied around the nail he held in his mouth, without looking up.
“I didn’t ask you to fix the roof!” she blurted, angry at his casual air. Why was she so angry at him? She wasn’t a particularly angry person, but every time she saw him he was the only available target for her frustrations. For one, she hadn’t invited him to stay. But stay he did.
“Well, it needs fixin’,” he said simply.
It did. She didn’t want to admit even to herself how badly run down the farm was getting. She was embarrassed for him to see it. Some things she didn’t know how to do, some she couldn’t afford to do, and the rest she just didn’t have the time or energy for. She squinted up at him on the ladder into the bright sun and realized he’d replaced the piece of rusted sheet metal that had been leaking over the third stall. She needed all the help she could get. If Canyon Bill wanted to hang around and fix things for a while, she had to swallow her pride and her embarrassment, and let him.
“Okay. Well. I have to get horses ready for a trail ride…” She’d meant to say thank you. Instead, it had lodged in her throat like a stuck pill she couldn’t swallow.
“Glad to see some things ain’t changed all that much, fire ant,” he said, looking down at her with a lopsided grin through his bushy gray beard.
She stared up at him, wanting to be furious at him for waltzing in, setting up camp and using the childhood nickname he’d had for her as if he’d never abandoned them. But the charm that had always made Kay forgive him and love him seemed to be having the same effect on her. The edges of her mouth traitorously tugged into a grin in reply to his. In the end, she just walked away, muttering something about going to put on riding boots.
When her customers arrived, she walked out with the string of three trail horses to meet them. Bonnie and Clyde were exceptionally gentle horses that she had selected for this purpose. They could be trusted not to run away with novice riders. She rode Monty to lead the trail ride.
After the trail ride, she led the horses down to her wash rack. She drew them up, tying them up in a row under the shade of the simple metal roof. Canyon Bill was still there, but now sat on an overturned bucket, filling an empty gallon jug from her barn hose. The reality of it drew her up short. He was sleeping in a tent in the woods and getting drinking water from her barn. She didn’t know if he even had money for food. And he’d worked all day in brutal heat fixing her barn. She had two hundred dollars in her pocket from the trail ride. She counted off half of it and held it out to him.
“Thank you,” she said simply. He took a long look at the cash in her hand, but he shook his head and didn’t reach out to receive it.
“You’re welcome,” he said, and started to walk away. He paused, eyeing Joey in the round pen. She’d put him in there because it had the least grass and she was afraid for him to overeat in his thin condition and make himself sicker.
“That paint horse looks an awful lot like one your grandma used to have.”
Kayla nodded. “It’s Joey.”
Like Bill, he was aged and run down, but unmistakable.
“I found him at Thornton’s barn waiting for the auction, and I couldn’t leave him there.”
Bill walked over to the brown-and-white paint horse.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Joey. Kay sure loved you. Raised you right up from a baby.”
Joey nickered softly as Bill rubbed his neck.
“He can’t be ridden until I get him back to a healthy weight and see if he’s even sound. I can’t afford that sort of project on top of the mortgage… It was a stupid thing to do. But she loved him and…” I loved him too. Love was a luxury she couldn’t afford in any form. Life had taught her that hardness was the only way, and love made people soft. Or love was a lie. Trent had said he loved her once, and her foolish teenaged heart had believed. Love hurt people. But she loved the horses. They were the only thing besides her Gram Kay that she could trust. They were simple, and typically, if treated with kindness, they returned it.
“It ain’t stupid,” Bill said quietly. Without looking at her, he added, “Doin’ the next right thing ain’t ever stupid.”
Looking at Canyon Bill petting Joey, Kayla could almost imagine nothing had changed. The world hadn’t gone dark, and her grandmother hadn’t died. She would stroll out at any moment and chastise her for letting the horses stand there too long without being rinsed off. Her grief was like a deafening sound that drowned out everything else. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat, picking up the hose to get on with it.
Bill took the hint and headed off to his campsite without looking back.
As she sprayed the sweat off the trail horses, she steeled herself once more. She turned them out into the pasture next to where Joey stood in the round pen. He looked better already. Well enough that he’d eaten the grain she’d poured into the rubber feed pan and now was holding the feed pan in his teeth, flipping it this way and that.
It felt like a sign to find him just in time. He couldn’t have much time left in him and by all rights ought to have been doing nothing but standing in a pasture somewhere. But one day, he might still be able to carry tourists on gentle trail rides through the orange grove so she could stop borrowing Monty. More importantly, maybe she’d made one tiny thing right by getting him out of the auction barn where he would probably have gone to a kill buyer. He stopped flipping the feed pan and looked at her with a familiar sparkle in his eye.
“Haven’t I told you a thousand times not to play with your food?” she asked him. Her answer was an extra head flip, sending the feed pan flying. This time, it landed in his water trough with a huge splash. Joey was still Joey.
She heard the bark of an old motorcycle roaring to life, and she caught a glimpse of Canyon Bill, the very profile of the hardcore biker of the seventies with his beard and ponytail, winding his bike through the woods on an old path out to the road. Where he was heading or if he would come back, she had no idea.
The front gate squeaked in protest at being thrown open too quickly, and she glanced up, wondering what Bill was doing back so soon. But it wasn’t Bill. Her stomach plummeted as if she’d been suddenly thrown off a horse.
Evan and Dansat hunched over Dan’s laptop—because of course neither one of them owned a real TV—and toasted beers and laughed at themselves. The pilot was airing, and they were finally getting to see the finished product.
“Oh my God, look at you!” Dan exclaimed, snorting with laughter. “I’m too tough for TV. But my buddy dragged me into this.” He narrated in a low voice as Evan dismounted his motorcycle on the screen. Dan cackled as Evan punched him in the arm.
Evan had surprised himself by having a blast making fun of himself on TV with Dan. The last time he’d seen himself on TV was on the five o’clock news when he was released from prison. That was only a ten-second clip of him scowling and shoving cameras away.
How things had changed.
“All right, dude, I’m gonna go catch some surf. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dan said as he collected necessary items from the house.
“Yeah, all right.” Evan grabbed the keys to his bike and headed out. He felt more hopeful about the show. They’d already selected a house on Matlacha to rebuild for its former owners.
He slowed down well before her farm. It was habit now, to go slow and quiet his motor at a safe distance from her horses. He’d passed her farm dozens of times and never seen her front gate standing open. She told him she kept it closed all the time in case a horse ever got loose, so they couldn’t get out into the road. She was a stickler about the safety of her horses. It stood wide open now, and his senses went on high alert. He slowed even more to glance down her driveway.
He caught just a glimpse of a ratty green El Camino parked haphazardly across her driveway near the barn, and the form of a man looming threateningly toward Kayla’s unmistakable silhouette. One thing about prison was that it taught a person to be able to read dangerous body language and respond in an instant. Something bad was about to happen to Kayla. He hit his back brake hard, counter steered while he banged it into first gear, twisted the grip, and broke the rear wheel loose. With a cloud of smoke, he swung the ass end of his bike around 180 degrees and let her fly back toward Kayla’s driveway.
He took the driveway too fast and the bike fishtailed, flinging rocks, but his eyes were on his target. He hit the back brake and skidded out to one side, coming to a scraping stop in front of the interloper’s truck.
He swung off with a rattle of the chains on his boots. Now that he had the guy’s attention, he could afford to take stock. He sized up the man. Rangy, hungry looking. Vaguely familiar. Bad to the core. His blood boiled at the thought of Kayla alone with this scumbag, and he could tell from a glance at her face that he wasn’t wrong. She looked pale, haunted, and was hugging herself as if she wished she could disappear.
Evan stood still as a statue, facing off with the interloper. If something didn’t defuse this quick, teeth were going to fly.
“Hey, Evan. I’m glad you dropped by. Your dog is in my barn again,” Kayla said with a dim smile. As if he were just a friendly neighbor.
His eyes narrowed on her. He knew he had just interrupted something ugly.
“Trent, this is my neighbor, Evan,” she said stiffly, not making eye contact with either of them. Trent squared off with Evan. Still time for teeth.
“The kind of neighbor who just drops by, huh?” Trent asked possessively, taking a step closer to Kayla.
“Only when his dog is missing,” she offered, as if trying to sound casual. As if trying to sound like they hadn’t been dating. Why the fuck would she do that? Was she two-timing him with this douchebag?
“Or when I see some motherfucker who looks like he’s about to get rough with her,” Evan interrupted in a low voice. The facade was gone. Trent’s eyebrows rose immediately.
“I don’t need your permission to do anything with her,” Trent retorted. Evan stepped up, putting himself between Trent and Kayla. The gesture was unmistakable, and Trent radiated fury. Trent was taller, but lean. Evan was built like a bull and no less likely to charge.
“Guys,”Kayla interjected, still hoping to avoid the inevitable fists. She started to step out from behind Evan, and his big hand stopped her like an iron vise.
“Why don’t you leave,” Evan said to Trent. Evan’s voice was calm, but his eyes were steely. She could almost imagine his fingers twitching over an imaginary six gun on his hip.
Trent looked momentarily like he was about to explode. Kayla knew that look far too well, and she shrank back. Instead, Trent smiled. This scared her more than his anger. It was a mean smile.
“Call me,” he said pointedly to her.
She didn’t respond. Her mouth was suddenly dry and not cooperating with her brain.
Trent turned to his El Camino, but paused just before getting in. Here came the catch. With Trent, there was always a catch. It was never really over. He turned back, tapping his temple with an index finger as if suddenly remembering something. It was an act of feigned casualness.
“Hey, don’t I know you?” he asked, pointing a finger at Evan. “Wasn’t we in Dade County lockup together? You beat the shit out of some biker and got put on lockdown.”
“Must have one of those faces,” Evan said, deadpan, cold as ice.
Trent nodded a little.
“Yeah… I know you. Who could forget that mad-dog stare…” He cocked his head back, talking around Evan now. “Enjoy your ex-con flavor-of-the-week, Kayla. Call me.”
He slammed his truck door, and the truck rumbled at a maddeningly casual pace around the circular loop of Kayla’s driveway, designed for ease of use with horse trailers in tow. The center of the loop was a jungle of mismatched but beautiful flowers. Trent and his truck were a rude blemish against the backdrop. And then, at last, he was gone.
She let out a shaky breath.
“Thanks. Sorry. I?—”
He turned around and pinned her with his gaze. She stood frozen before him. Was this the next catch? Evan had just run off another man from her property. Was she about to meet the dark side of him?
“Who the fuck is that guy? Your ex-boyfriend?”
A rush of emotion boiled up inside her: shame, guilt, embarrassment. She’d never wanted Trent and Evan to come face-to-face. It was the two parts of her life that were never supposed to intersect, lest Evan find out about that missing nine years she’d never told him about. How could she possibly explain? He was still scrutinizing her. She had to say something.
“I mean, sort of…he…he used to be my boss.”
Evan stared at her, clearly dissatisfied with her explanation.
“He wanted more. I didn’t. It’s complicated,” she continued, squirming.
“Must be. You’re shaking like a leaf.”
She looked down at her hands, and sure enough, they were trembling uncontrollably. Her throat closed. Traitorous tears welled up in her eyes, and she tried desperately to wipe them away; wipe all of this away.
It was all getting away from her again, like it seemed to do whenever Evan was around. Despite the heat, she felt cold all over. He took a step closer to her, as if measuring her reaction.
Why did he see everything? How did he know that if he had just reached out and touched her, she would have bolted like a spooked horse? His steady presence undid her. She struggled desperately to swallow the tears back down to the secret place where she hid it all, and it just wouldn’t go. It was closing the proverbial barn door after the horses were long gone.
“Come here,” he said quietly.
She shook her head, half blinded by her tears. “No. Please go. Thank you. I’m really sorry about all this,” she blurted.
“Kayla.”
Somehow, the way he simply stated her name said everything. It said I don’t believe you want me to leave. And, you don’t have to lie. It said, You’re safe. And, Do as I say. So, she did. She could hardly see through her tears, but she did take a step toward him, and felt his hands close gently on her arms. She still wasn’t prepared for it, too much tactile input, and she whimpered a little bit when he touched her. Despite that, she wanted him to touch her. She wanted so desperately for it to be true, to be safe. She was never safe, had never been safe.
“Do I need to beat his ass?” he asked her.
“You beat the shit out of some biker…”Trent’s words echoed in her brain and sobered her. Nothing like a little survival instinct to bring a girl back from a nervous breakdown. Evan looked like someone who could have done time, and she ought to know. She scrubbed her face, drawing a slow, measured breath and swallowing down her tears. Evan probably wasn’t any better than Trent. She knew just how the bad boys rolled, offering protection from whoever was worse than them. She’d found out the hard way, who you needed protection from was them.
“No, you don’t need to beat his ass. Were you really in jail with Trent?” she asked, studying him.
He stared at her, carefully neutral. Then, he shrugged. “I don’t remember him.”
“So, you were in jail.”
His expression seemed to become even more closed and unreadable. For the first time, she was a little afraid of him. A bark from the barn broke the silence and the tension. They both glanced over and saw a little black blur bouncing up every few moments, just clearing the four-foot stall wall with a ridiculous look on her face.
“My dog really is in your barn,” he said, sounding surprised. She barked again, and a few seconds later, her face peeked over the stall wall for a split second, pleading to be let out.
“Your dog is a kleptomaniac, so she’s in jail,” Kayla said dryly.
A spontaneous laugh erupted from Evan. “What’s she done?”
“She steals shit. Four currycombs to date, a hoof pick, a pack of gum. What else have you taken, Abbey?” Kayla asked the dog, approaching the stall she was locked in.
“Wait, did you name my dog?”
“Well, I have to have something to yell at her when she’s running off into the sunset with my stuff.”
He laughed again, and she couldn’t help but chuckle a little herself. The dog was maddening, but somehow adorably precocious.
“Abbey,” Evan pondered. “Where’d that come from?”
“She just looks like an Abbey.” The dog was now sitting, eyes bright with joy and mischief, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, looking happily from one of them to the other as if she knew some great secret that they didn’t.
“Well, she does look pleased with herself. I’ll go get my truck and come back for her, okay?”
She nodded.
“Kayla,” he said, suddenly serious. “I’m not like Trent. You need to know that.”
She blinked at him. Nodded. Looked away. She did need to know that. But was it true?
Even his damndog was a criminal. When he came back to get her as promised, Kayla was already astride another horse, cantering around in the arena with a determined look on her face. She obviously didn’t want to talk further.
Parked where Trent had been only minutes before, he opened the cab of his truck and Abbey jumped in. He closed the door and drove back home, careful to latch and lock Kayla’s gate.
Back at his place, he walked his property line, inspecting the dilapidated fence. It had so many holes, it was more like a polite suggestion than a real fence. Abbey wasn’t a dog who responded to polite suggestions. He thought he should put up a better one before his outlaw dog got her stupid self killed running up the road to visit Kayla. Worried the dog had given him the slip yet again, he walked around back to see if he could spot her. There she was, paddling lazy circles in his pond, her ears floating on the surface like fuzzy black lily pads. With the alligators around here, that wasn’t really a safe hobby for her either.
“All you need is a rubber ducky,” he commented sarcastically.
Abbey did one more lap and then bounded out of the pond, ungracefully shaking off and running simultaneously, slinging water in every direction. She raced up to him and skidded to a halt, a gleeful smile on her face.
“Abbey, huh?”
She wagged her tail.
“That ain’t a very tough name. Maybe you should go stay with Kayla and I’ll get me a blue tick hound and name him Grizzly.”
As if she somehow understood, Abbey ducked her head slightly and looked up at him imploringly with big, brown, white-rimmed eyes. She was like a damn cartoon character. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, he’d grown fond of her.
“Oh, all right. You can stay.”
She followed him obediently up to the porch and flopped down, dripping next to the chair where he often sat to drink a beer.
The situation with Kayla and Trent was bizarre. He’d bet his bottom dollar she was terrified of Trent, and for good reason. So, what had the dirtbag done, and why was he still hanging around? Why did she let him hang around? Had she lied about him being her boss? Evan had the distinct impression she’d been trying to cover up something between them. Trent was the type of guy who sold drugs or women for a living, not a man who did honest work. Evan could spot a guy like that from a mile off.
Worse, that bastard had planted a seed of doubt. He saw it on Kayla’s face. After Trent’s comment about jail, she didn’t trust him. Not that she necessarily ever had, but now she definitely didn’t.
The injustice of it boiled up inside him with the taste of rage in the back of his throat. It was something that wanted to explode out of him, but couldn’t—exactly like when he’d been trapped in a cell going mad.
Hell, his own parents hadn’t truly believed him. Sometimes he thought they still didn’t. Their relationship remained strained and distant. He shared the bond of thieves with his brother Jake, but that well was poisoned too. Poisoned by his anger at Jake for getting them into the whole mess in the first place. Every relationship, past, present, and now future, was being ruined by the one big lie.
He knew in his bones that Trent was the worst kind of man, and Kayla needed to be protected from him. He knew he could do it. But she would never let him protect her if she thought he was as bad as Trent.
He’d had years inside to practice sizing men up by the spark in their eye and their fighting stance. He could take Trent.
He saw the shadow of doubt in her eyes. He saw it in his parents’ eyes. And always it was followed by the fury of the injustice of it all… The secret that he knew and they didn’t.
Honestly, he didn’t totally trust her either. Her explanation of her relationship with Trent was thin and wanting. And he would never take another chance on a deceitful woman.
He wanted to wash his hands of the whole mess, but this chick was really getting to him. She was the whole package: she knew bikes, she was badass, sexy as hell, and his dick jumped to attention at just the thought of her. Worse, she seemed much too alone with dangerous people sniffing around her. He wasn’t one to go for the damsel in distress, but his hackles were already up over her, big-time. Would she let him do his job? Was she worth it?