Easter in Dry Creek Page 5

  “Those horses are never coming,” she said, letting her troubles spill out to Clay like she’d done so often. “My father gave someone money, and he’ll never see anything from it.”

  “That’s my guess, too,” Clay said.

  Then in the distance Allie heard the sound of a heavily weighted truck coming.

  She glanced up at Clay. He nodded to show he’d heard it, too.

  “If that is them and they’re here, that five hundred is probably only a down payment,” Allie said. “I’ll... We’ll be paying for those horses for the rest of our lives.”

  She was still looking at Clay. Suddenly the years fell away and his face seemed the same as it had before. His eyes were the same warm blue. His eyebrow furrowed a little in concern. He looked like nothing was more important at that moment than what she was telling him.

  “That’s ranching for you,” he said.

  “We’re flat broke,” she told him and then stopped to listen as the truck slowed down at what must have been the cattle guard where their driveway came off the county road. “I don’t even want to look.”

  “I’ll see about it,” Clay said as he straightened up.

  Allie wondered if there was any possibility that the truck would go by on the gravel road. It was the long way around to the Redfern ranch, but maybe whoever was driving was lost and was just slowing down to ask directions.

  She watched Clay. He hadn’t moved from where he stood.

  “We haven’t even had breakfast yet,” Allie said.

  Clay grunted. “If it is those animals, we’ll need to get them settled first.”

  “You’re a good man,” Allie said as she sat there. “I have a little money saved. But not enough to pay standard wages to a ranch hand.”

  Clay smiled. “I don’t think you’re supposed to pay me. Free labor for a year. That’s the deal.”

  Allie frowned. “We will make some arrangements. You can’t work for free. I won’t let you.”

  “It’s fine,” Clay murmured and then added hesitantly, “I think food is included, though. And I’ll starve on toast.”

  She grinned. She saw the twinkle in his eyes. “Sorry about this morning. And you will get a full breakfast just as soon as we deal with that truck.”

  He smiled back at her, and her day tilted until everything felt balanced in her world again. She wished with a fierce stab of longing that Clay and her brother had stayed in the bunkhouse playing checkers that night.

  “My dad’s not really an alcoholic,” she whispered at last. She hoped this was still true. “I wouldn’t want you to think that.”

  “It’s not your fault if he is,” Clay said and buttoned his coat.

  She shook off her nostalgia. “That’s kind of you to say.”

  The truck sounds grew louder.

  Maybe it wasn’t all her fault, but Allie knew she’d fallen down on her duty. She had liked the warmth of Clay’s breath on her neck, but there was nothing about this that was going to turn out well. She couldn’t recall a thing her mother had done when her father’s craziness had already happened except for doing all she could to hide everything from the neighbors.

  She wondered how they could cope with a bankruptcy. They had fought it off for so long, but she was tired. She really would need to paint the house. She’d always thought white with green trim made a house look prosperous. That might keep the pity from the neighbors down some. Or at least give them some doubt that the gossip was true.

  Allie heard a vehicle door slamming outside. Whoever was out there was coming inside. And she wasn’t ready.

  She looked up and saw compassion in Clay’s eyes. She might not want him to know her father’s weakness, but it felt good to have someone stand beside her in the troubles of this household.

  Allie heard footsteps outside. She needed to remember that her goal these days was to see Mark recovered. Their family had been given a second chance. She wouldn’t see alcohol or bankruptcy or problems from the past take it away from them.

  Then her father cleared his throat. She looked over and saw him standing in the shadows of the hallway. His expression was so guilty that she wondered if there might be a bottle of liquor next to him in the coat closet.

  “I should have asked you about the horses before I bought them,” her father said.

  Allie nodded. “We’ll get by.”

  She forced herself to breathe calmly. She was only vaguely aware of the squeeze Clay gave to her shoulder before he moved toward the door. His brow was furrowed. His shoulders were hunched over in that sheepskin coat as though he was still cold even though it was warm in the kitchen.

  A loud knock sounded at the kitchen door. Allie was relieved she didn’t need to open the house and let anyone inside. Whoever was outside was going to give her trouble.

  Chapter Four

  Clay squinted as he opened the door. A sturdy middle-aged man, with a Stetson pushed down on his head and a red plaid shirt showing through the opening in his coat, waited on the steps with a clipboard in his gloved hands. Deep footprints showed where he had just walked through the snow. After studying the indentations, Clay guessed the snowfall was close to six inches deep. The man’s black jacket had a logo and Farm Transportation embroidered on the front pocket, along with the name Stan Wilcox.

  “This the Nelson place?” the man asked. His breath swirled up in a thin white puff. Even though the storm had stopped, temperatures had not risen yet.

  “Yes,” Clay admitted.

  The man frowned and looked at his paper. “Mr. Floyd Nelson.”

  Clay realized with a start that he had never known Mr. Nelson’s given name. He didn’t remember anyone ever using it. “I’ll get him for you. Stan, is it?”

  The man nodded.

  “I’m Clay West.” He hesitated. “New ranch hand here.”

  “Good to meet you,” Stan said.

  Clay turned around then and saw that Allie and her father were walking toward the door. Clay opened the screen door for Stan. “Might as well come inside for a bit.”

  The other man entered and stood on the rug beside the open door. “We’ll need to start unloading. I just wanted to check that we were at the right place and to find out where you want the shipment let down.”

  “Is it the horses?” Mr. Nelson asked as he walked closer.

  “Yes, sir,” Stan said. “This is them.”

  “I’ve been waiting.” Mr. Nelson’s face was as excited as a kid’s on Christmas morning.

  Clay smiled. The older man might be making a mistake, but he was at least enjoying it. Clay had to admit he wouldn’t mind putting his hands on a horse again, either.

  “I’ll need you to sign.” Stan held his clipboard out to Mr. Nelson.

  Clay turned then and saw Allie walking over to the trucker and squaring her shoulders. He wondered for a moment about what she was doing.

  “I’m afraid there is a change of plans,” Allie said. Her voice was steady. “We need to send the horses back for a refund. I need to talk with my father some more, but we can’t sign.”

  The man started to laugh.

  “Someone will pay you for your delivery, of course,” she added with a stiff smile. “Including the return trip. We honor our commitments as best we can.”

  Clay was proud of Allie. She’d obviously worked hard over the years to learn to speak her mind with confidence. He remembered how she’d hated to disappoint anyone and wouldn’t confront them to say what she thought needed to be done.

  Stan’s laugh finally slowed to a rumble, and his eyes were kind. “That’s not the problem, ma’am. These animals, though—there ain’t no back to send them to. The man paid us in cash for the delivery, but then he got on a plane for Hawaii. Some messy divorce he’s in. Didn’t care how much money he lost. His ranch
sold the day we left. He sent a few more animals over here with us. They were strays no one else wanted. If you don’t want them, either, we’ll have to shoot them.”

  “Goodness.” Allie gasped. Clay saw the shock in her eyes. “We can’t do that.”

  She turned to Clay, and he nodded in agreement. He knew how Allie was. She had taken injured birds and doctored them until they could fly again. She couldn’t stand to see any animal hurt. She would never turn away an animal that needed saving. But Clay knew full well the problems that might be coming. He hoped none of the animals in the truck were ill.

  “What do you need from us?” Clay asked Stan.

  “For starters, just tell us where we should unload.” Stan turned and opened the screen door. “We can sign the papers later. I’ll tell my driver where he needs to park. Could take some doing, so you might as well stay inside for a few minutes. No point in all of us freezing.”

  Clay had never taken his coat off, so he was prepared. “I’ll come give you a hand.” He turned to Mr. Nelson. “Is the barn the best place to put them for now?”

  The older man nodded. “The only place out of this cold. The weather report says the storm will continue off and on.”

  The kitchen door was opened again, and Clay stepped outside. He saw a long silver horse trailer and matching pickup sitting in the middle of the drive. A layer of snow had collected on top of the whole outfit. The sides were covered with dry mud, too, so Clay figured the vehicles had come some distance. In any event, he guessed it was too late to prevent any sickness from spreading if one of the animals had been infected with anything. They had all been together in that trailer.

  “You’re from Montana?” Clay asked as he walked down the steps with the other man. The sound of their leather boots was muffled by the snow. Clay liked the crisp air in his lungs. If the other man hadn’t been in a hurry, Clay would have taken time to look around the ranch from where he stood midway between the house and the barn.

  Stan nodded. “We came from over west by Helena.”

  Clay was glad that the trailer hadn’t crossed any state lines. That might be complicated if there was illness in any of the animals.

  A tall trail of exhaust rose from behind the pickup. Clay couldn’t see much through the open slats along the sides of the metal trailer, but he saw dark shapes that were tall enough to be four horses.

  “I’m assuming you have a ramp with you?” Clay asked Stan as they walked toward the vehicles. Clay wouldn’t want to have to coax horses down a homemade ramp that was nothing more than several pieces of plywood laid one on top of the other. The ranch used to have something that worked pretty well, but he had no idea if it was still in the barn.

  “We’ve got one built into the trailer,” the other man said. “A couple of the horses are shy about using it, but we help them along.”

  Just then Clay heard a lot of flapping and squawking and the loud crowing of a rooster.

  “Guess it’s getting lighter inside the trailer,” Stan said with a grin.

  Clay noted that the sky was heavy gray still, but enough rays were getting through so that people—and apparently birds—could see.

  “Big Red is waking up the crew,” the other man added.

  Clay heard the rooster again.

  “You can’t have chickens in there!” Clay muttered in protest. “I can’t tell the guys I came here to babysit some old hens.”

  He’d forgotten about his few friends inside the prison, but suddenly he remembered his promise to send them postcards. They’d get a big laugh out of this. No one should get out on parole to tend poultry. He grinned some more at the thought of what they’d say when they heard.

  What a day this was, Clay thought as he looked around. There were no telltale drips of snow melting off any roofs, but he supposed that would happen in a few hours if the temperature rose high enough. He heard the sounds of the front door opening, but when he looked, no one was stepping out to the porch yet.

  “I suppose those birds are the animals you were going to shoot?” Clay asked. They were almost at the trailer.

  Stan shrugged. “I was exaggerating a little about the shooting. I figure we can always give the chickens away. The woman at the café where we stopped to ask directions said she’d take them if nobody wanted them here. It’s the goat that wouldn’t find a home. He’s an ornery old fellow. Name of Billy Boy. Thinks he’s a dog. I can’t believe how he tries to herd the horses. Him, we might have to shoot.”

  Clay groaned. “I think we can handle a goat.”

  Stan looked over at him. “Trust me, you don’t want to cross him. He butts people when he feels it’s necessary to protect his charges. I don’t turn my back on him.”

  Clay heard steps on the porch and turned to see Allie coming toward them. She’d walked several yards when Mr. Nelson came out of the door, holding Jeremy by the hand.

  It would be a family welcome.

  “The boss lady won’t let anything be shot,” Clay said, keeping his voice low so she wouldn’t hear. “Don’t even talk about it around her. Or around the boy.”

  “She’ll want to keep the miniature pig, too, then?” Stan asked thoughtfully. He arched his eyebrow as he looked over at Clay. “It’s a little black Juliana pig of the teacup variety. About eighty pounds. The missus in the divorce at that ranch had the pig for a pet. I hear they’re worth a fair bit of money, but the husband got him in the settlement. Cute little thing. They call her Julie.”

  “Please tell me you have regular horses in there,” Clay said. His confidence in this exchange was shaken. “Nothing miniature or with a pet name. This is a ranch for working horses.”

  Stan grinned. “Wish we did have a Shetland pony or something. My grandson would like that. But, no. The horses are full-size.”

  Clay nodded, but he knew better than to trust the man.

  Stan called out to his partner behind the wheel in the pickup. “We’re going to put them in the barn over there.”

  Then he pointed out the structure as though there was more than one barn in view. The red slats on the sides of the barn were rough with age, but Clay knew it would do well enough.

  The partner dutifully started the engine and began backing up.

  Clay figured he had done all he could to keep the proceedings sane. He was beginning to think that Mr. Nelson had been right, though. The older man couldn’t manage this menagerie. And he sure couldn’t afford to pay anyone to do it. As far as Clay could see, most of these animals wouldn’t bring any profit to the ranch. No, Clay was the only one to tend them.

  * * *

  Allie stood in the drive for a minute, her arms crossed to keep warm inside her corduroy jacket, as she watched the pickup maneuver the horse trailer closer to the barn. The old structure was in fair shape, she thought, but the corrals would need to be fixed. Patches of snow covered most of the ground, but coarse gray dirt poked up here and there. They would need feed for the animals. Her father had sold the last of his horses three years ago, and the ranch hands had been let go at the same time. She mentally reviewed what might still be around and figured there were a few bags of old oats in the hayloft sitting on top of the plywood left after building the bunkhouse. The oats had probably gone moldy by now, but she’d check. She hadn’t even gone out to the barn in over a year. With it empty, there seemed no reason.

  They couldn’t afford to feed a bunch of livestock for long. She’d already warned her father. They would have to sell the horses. As to the other animals that Stan had mentioned, she wouldn’t send them to their deaths. But she couldn’t afford charity. She’d work on finding other places for them.

  Allie felt a twinge of guilt and then squared her shoulders. It was time she recognized that she didn’t owe the whole world a living. She had enough to worry about with her father and Mark. And, Jeremy, of course, although he was
nothing but a joy to her.

  She looked over at where Clay was standing with Stan. A small frown crossed Clay’s forehead. Dark stubble showed on his face. He probably hadn’t shaved since he left prison. He looked tired. And it was only the beginning, she thought. Her father was right; they needed Clay for a while. What with the horses and Mark, they would be in a fix right now without him. Maybe after Easter, though, she could contact the parole board and find him another wrangler job near here. The Redfern ranch always seemed to need more workers. It would all work out.

  Allie reached Clay about the same time that the pickup maneuvered the trailer into position.

  “We’ll need to close the side gate on the corral,” she said, and Clay walked with her to do that. Then they opened the big barn door. The barn was like a large, dark cavern inside. A row of small windows was cut into each side of the barn, but the panes were dirty, and not much light filtered in, even on a sunny day.

  “Smells musty,” she said as she looked around. It was worse than she thought it might be. She should have at least aired it out when she came home to visit.

  She heard the two men in the pickup setting up a ramp from the back of the horse trailer, and so she and Clay headed back to the front.

  The rooster crowed again. This time Allie thought he sounded indignant.

  “We haven’t had a rooster around here for years,” she said. They hadn’t had hens, either. The ranch hands generally didn’t like to tend to poultry, and they said the birds made the other animals nervous.

  “He makes a good alarm clock,” Clay said, glancing at her with humor in his eyes. “I thought you might not be too keen on him, though.”

  She smiled. “It’ll give my dad a reason to get up and do the chores. I’ll be in Jackson Hole, so I won’t hear the rooster anyway.”

  Allie saw a flash of dark blue material in the corner of her eye and then heard her father grunt.

  “I heard that,” he said.

  Then he came up beside them. “I don’t need anyone to tell me when to do my chores. I’ve been working this farm for over sixty years.”