A Damaged Trust (19 page)

“I am.”

“Hop in, then. I’m going too.” As they got into the truck together, he grumbled, “Gotta pick up some stronger nails than the ones that Jack got yesterday. The ones he bought are bending.”

“Can we stop at the store for some potatoes?” Carrie asked quickly.

“Sure,” he replied. “But we can’t stay long, you know. I’m behind already on those fences, and I’ve a lot to do before tonight.”

Carrie stirred uneasily. “Dad,” she ventured, “couldn’t you take it easy for a while today, instead of rushing about so frantically? I mean, Steven and Ralf can see to the fences, can’t they?”

“I’ve yet to see the day when I hand my work over to someone else because I took it off!” he barked, hitting a hand hard against the steering wheel. “Let alone to those two puppies! Leave be, girl, leave be. I don’t want to hear anything more about it!”

Carrie subsided reluctantly. But, for the rest of the day, worry gnawed at her from time to time. She knew her father was doing himself harm by pushing too hard, and yet no one seemed to be able to stop him. He obstinately pushed on, shrugging off opposition like he would a bothersome gnat.

As they climbed into the truck and prepared to leave for home, Cliff started to say something, then stopped.

She grinned. “Oh, he’s being tactful, is he?” she teased, and he gave a grunt, “Come on, out with it!”

“Stop prying!” he grumbled, ill at ease.

“Why,” she asked, amused, “weren’t you going to pry?”

“Well, yes,” he said reluctantly. “Oh, all right. Is that chap Stanton someone you’re serious about?”

She was quiet for a moment. “At one time I was, yes,” she admitted painfully. “But it’s all over, and it has been for some time. He just wouldn’t realise that, and he came out here to try again. He’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

Cliff’s relief was obvious. “Good,” he stated with satisfaction. “I don’t like him.” And that, my dear girl, Carrie thought, is that. She tried not to smile. “Why don’t you stick with the Jackson fellow? He’s a good man, but a little obstinate.”

She laughed. “I just might do that, Dad. I just might, at that!”

Later in the day, Steven managed to catch her alone in the back yard. He came up to her and they talked for a few minutes about the coming evening, but then he came to what had obviously been on his mind since Neil’s arrival at the ranch. “Look, Carrie, is Stanton the one who forgot to tell you he was married?” Steven asked, characteristically blunt.

She hesitated. “Yes. He’s the one I told you about.” She looked at him and found him frowning ferociously at the fence they were leaning against, as if he would like to beat it with his bare hands.

The question burst out of him violently. “What’s he doing here, for God’s sake? Couldn’t he take no for an answer?”

She replied mildly, “Apparently not. He’s filed for a divorce, Steven.” The silence that followed her remark was long and intense. “He wanted to ask me again, to see if it would make any difference.”

“And you said yes.” Briefly he stated the fact. It was really a question, she realised. She had heard the pleading in his voice.

“And I said no to him, Steven. You see, Neil never got around to asking me to marry him, and I wouldn’t have accepted anything else. No,” she shook her head impatiently, “I wouldn’t have accepted anything at all. If he could leave his first wife as he did, then what guarantee do I have that he’d stick with me? All that hurt I felt when he told me he was married—it was the hurting one feels when one has lost a dream. Looking at what I’d thought was gold, I polished it and found it to be only tarnished brass—or should I say, a very sadly damaged trust.”

“My God,” Steven breathed thankfully. “I was afraid for a while that you—that he—never mind. I’m glad.”

“You know, you aren’t the only one to warn me against Neil. Dad did earlier on today.” She chuckled, then she grew serious. “Please be nice to him, Steve. He’s only here until tomorrow, and I’d feel terrible if the holiday was upset because of me.”

“All right,” he complied reluctantly, then snorted. “But don’t expect me to like it!”

That evening when the two Metcalfe trucks arrived at the open site where the picnic was held, several trucks were already there, parked and waiting. It was about an hour before sunset. As Carrie jumped down from the cab of the truck she had ridden in, sounds of merriment wafted over on the warm summer breeze from other tailgate parties well under way. Janet and Emma began to set out things for supper on a red-checked tablecloth that was spread in the back of the truck, while Cliff and Steven started to open coolers of beer and soft drinks in the other truck. Ralf had disappeared after explaining to the general group that he had a date to meet. Carrie exchanged a wry look with Jack at this. The chances of Ralf getting thoroughly sloshed before the night’s end were about fifty-fifty. It depended on how well he got along with his date.

Neil made himself useful in a charming way, first helping the women as they prepared the food and then helping the men sample different drinks at the other truck, a few feet away. He was treated with a polite courtesy by all the family, a courtesy that never got any more friendly than a lukewarm response. If he noticed anything odd or different about how everyone treated him in comparison to others, he made no comment to Carrie.

She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him after all. If she had been in the least bit in love with him still, the family would have welcomed him with open arms, for her sake if not for his. But as it was, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, she was sure. And there was nothing she could do about it.

The bright, glowing sun began to set very rapidly towards the end of its day’s march, and Janet called everybody around. On occasions like this, ranch hands and family shared alike, with no distinction between employer and employee. “Time for supper, everyone,” she called out. There were a few ragged cheers and a pleasant commotion lasted for several minutes as everyone crowded around the tailgate to get a paper plate laden with food.

Carrie stayed to help serve with her mother and Emma, and when everyone had dispersed for the time being to wolf down their first helping, she piled her own plate up with different goodies. Then she set her plate on the top of the truck’s engine while she went off to the other truck to get herself a can of soda. Opening the can as she headed back to the cab and her food, she stared, stopped, then ran forward. “Hey!” she protested, “that’s my food!” Gabe was calmly helping himself to different selections of her supper. She noticed that her helping of potato salad was entirely gone.

“Why, you, rodent!” she exclaimed, running over and tickling him in the sides.

“Ow! Stop!” he yelled. He managed to set the plate down without dumping it on the rocky ground, then he turned, lightning fast, and made a grab for her behind him. But she was no longer there. Dancing out of his reach, she laughed in his face before running to the other side of the truck. Gabe followed, his feet sure and unerring on a terrain where there was a good possibility, of spraining an ankle.

Carrie had made it to the other side of the truck and was heading for the truck with the beer and inevitably, the men, when Gabe snatched her from behind. He turned her around. “How is your back?”

She blinked. “Why, just fine, thank y—” Her reply turned into a shriek as he threw her up into the air. The opened can of soda fell unheeded to the ground where its brown, fizzy liquid spilled out and over into a little puddle. She was breathless from
laughing, her face red from the upside-down position she found herself in, thrown over his shoulder. Laughter and jeering remarks came from both the trucks.

“Now’s our chance!” Steven called out. “Free whacks on Carrie’s seat!” Everyone cheered.

“Why don’t you run away with her?” Emma called from the other side. “We don’t want her anymore.” There was more laughter.

Gabe was chuckling deep in his chest. She could feel the vibrations on her thighs and she wriggled protestingly. Reaching down, she sneaked a furtive finger under his shirt and began to tickle his sides. Immediately the world around her began a crazy dance as Gabe started to jerk.

“Stop that!” he ordered. She tickled harder. Suddenly she was looking at a brown, fizzy puddle and an overturned can that was still leaking liquid. He was holding her over the mess. “Now, I said stop,” he warned, still chuckling. A wicked grin lightened the darkness of his saturnine face. “If you don’t you’ll be sitting in that mess!”

She turned limpid blue eyes at him, an innocent, injured look on her face. She said in a small voice, “All I wanted to do was to eat my supper.”

He set her on her feet at last. “You’ll have to get yourself another plate, won’t you?” he teased. “The food on your first one is about gone.” She turned her nose up in a snooty gesture.

“I wouldn’t eat after you anyway,” she informed him haughtily. “I’ll go and get a
clean
plate.” Gabe raised his eyebrows, mocking her expression. Carrie swiveled to go and get her food. When she had just about finished filling her Second plate, she happened to glance up, catching Neil’s eyes on her.

She straightened slowly. Looking into his face for a long moment, she was profoundly shocked at the expression in his eyes. Light grey fire smouldered out of his blazing eyes. There was such a concentrated amount of
hate
in them that she nearly lost her hold on her plate, and she sucked in her breath sharply. Then, after that one moment, the look was completely gone. There was nothing on his face.

This, she thought dazedly, was much worse than anything else. She hurriedly avoided his eyes and carried her plate to the front of the truck. Gabe was eating the rest of what had been on her first plate. He sighed with satisfaction. “That was delicious!”

“Go and help yourself to more,” she told him. “There’s more than enough. We always end up taking home about half the stuff we bring.”

He grinned, much like a little boy who has been naughty, but who loved every minute of it. “Do you think Emma would mind?”

Carrie chortled. “You’ve got Em twisted around your little finger and you know it! Didn’t you bring supper with you?”

“Only three sandwiches,” he said mournfully. “And they didn’t last long at all.” Three sandwiches! she thought. Good grief! “I ate them hours ago,” he added.

“How long have you been here?” she asked with her mouth full.

“Since about four-thirty,” he replied. “I’ve been helping set up all of those lovely fireworks that you’re going to see tonight.” He slid off of the hood of the truck with the empty plate. “Can I bring anything back for you?”

“Sure, bring me a cupcake,” she said at once. He started for the back, and she called out, “And another can of soda! You made me spill my other.”

She saw him scoop up the can on the ground and deposit it in a trash bag that Janet had set out. Presently he returned with a laden plate in one hand and two precariously held cans, one soft drink and one beer, in the other. He deposited the cans quickly, presenting the soft drink to Carrie while he kept the beer for himself.

“Quite the little waitress,” she commented, wrestling with the top of her can. She got it open and looked up, her expression teasing. “I bet you look great in a skirt.”

Gabe was unperturbed. “It’s my terrifically sexy legs,” he drawled as he began to tuck away the heaped up food on his plate. “I get marvellous tips.”

She snorted and tipped the can up to her mouth, drinking deeply. As she righted her head again, she caught Gabe looking at her with a strange, thoughtful expression. She wiped her mouth.

“Do I have potato salad on my face?” she asked. He appeared to start, and shook himself out of his reverie.

“No. Sorry, didn’t mean to stare.”

“What is it?” she asked curiously. “Got a burr under your saddle?”

“Actually, yes,” he replied suddenly. “Why is Stanton sitting over with the other men, while you’re here by yourself?”

She looked surprised. “He probably wants to be by the beer, and I wasn’t aware that I was by myself.”

“That’s not a real answer!” he snapped, and her eyebrows shot up.

“And you don’t have any real manners!” she retorted.

“Excuse me, I’m going back for some potato chips.” She started to slide off the hood, but was stopped by Gabe’s hand that circled her upper arm.

“Hold on. All right, I’ll word my question differently,” he said, attempting patience. “Why isn’t Stanton with you, if he came to visit you?”

“Because,” she said, frustration in her voice; she was fed up with the confrontations of the past few days, “I told him he was wasting his time! Now, will you let go of my arm? I don’t appreciate this!”

Gabe let go of her suddenly, and she almost fell off of the hood. She took off for the back of the truck, her hands shaking and her stomach bothering her in a strange way. She felt exposed after what she’d just confessed to Gabe, and very vulnerable. All of a sudden, she wasn’t too sure about anything, and she felt especially insecure with Gabe. She stayed at the back of the truck and munched one celery stick after another, listening to Janet’s and Emma’s conversation. The sun was just about gone and the whole scene was thrown into a dark sort of duskiness, making everyone’s face grey in the dim light. Soon it would be time for the fireworks, the main event of the evening. She was beginning to wish that everything was well and truly over with. She wanted to go home.

A sound behind her had her turning her head. Gabe stood just by her shoulder, and he was very close. “We have to talk,” he said in a low voice, so that only she could hear.

“I know,” she sighed.

His hand came up to the back of her neck and massaged her gently, and his eyes studied her face intently. “I have to go and see if they need my help with the fireworks. I’ll be back in a little while. How long is Stanton staying?”

“He has a morning flight tomorrow,” she replied, speaking as softly as he. “Ralf is driving him to the airport.”

“Is there any possibility of you getting away from here tonight so we can talk later on?” There was an expression in Gabe’s eyes that sent Carrie’s heart pounding rapidly. Of course, she thought dazedly, his hand on my neck isn’t helping matters. She put a hand over her throat. It felt as if her pulse was going berserk.