Lonestar Angel (26 page)

“It may be more than that, Mr. Larson. I will do what I can, but the risks to Eden are grave.”

Clay’s neck prickled. “What do you mean?”

“I can say no more. You will have to guard her carefully.”

“At least you care a little about your daughter,” Clay said.

“I doubt she is my daughter, but I can’t have a rogue—”

“Of course she’s your daughter!” Clay saw Eden’s eyes widen, and he wished she hadn’t heard that. Clay heard a click and stared at the phone. “He hung up on me.”

She lifted her head. “He did that to me too. I think he likes the power. He says I’m not his daughter?”

“He didn’t seem sure. It sounds like he told whoever was after you to lay off, but the guy disobeyed. I think your father isn’t sure he can call him off.”

Her eyes went wide. “So he
was
behind it? But why?”

If only he knew. It appeared this was far from over.

24

C
LAY SCOOPED UP HAY WITH HIS PITCHFORK AND TOSSED SOME TO THE HORSE IN THE FIRST
stall. The sweet scent of the grass blended with the earthy smell of the horse. He liked the combination for some reason. The barn was like a secret friend, living and breathing the odor and life of the horses and the cowboys. Living here on the ranch had changed him in some fundamental ways.

He wanted something different in his relationship with Eden too. He’d thought revealing his heart to her would bring about that sea change. If anything, she’d been a little more aloof the last two days. He’d tried to tell himself it was because she was hurting from her burns, but he wasn’t sure that was the reason. Their talk the other night may have made her want to keep her distance.

A shadow fell on the haystack, and he glanced up to see India in the doorway. “Want to help?” he asked her.

She smiled and nodded, coming forward. “I brought Frost some sugar.” She dug into the pocket of her jeans and produced two cubes covered with lint.

Her black hair was in cornrows tied with pink bows. Eden loved messing with the girls’ hair, and they seemed to enjoy it as well. India’s pink top had chocolate on it, and a smear of chocolate frosting dotted the corner of her mouth. Her jeans were getting too short, and he made a mental note to ask Eden to take her shopping.

He leaned on his tool and smiled. “The pitchfork is a little big for you, but you can feed Bluebird some hay when you’re done spoiling Frost.”

The little girl offered the sugar to the young gelding, then scampered back to where Clay stood. She seized a handful of hay, then held it up to Bluebird, Betsy’s horse.

“Are you enjoying yourself here?” Clay asked.

India nodded. “I wish I could stay here forever with you and Miss Eden. I don’t want to go back.” She sounded forlorn.

The little girl had endeared herself to him in the past two weeks. Always cheerful, always smiling. But sometimes he caught her by herself with a pensive air and tear-filled eyes. She would never tell him the problem, though. He’d often wished she were Brianna, though her nutmeg skin made it impossible. His heart called her his, though.

She shuddered and clasped her arms around herself. “The fire was scary,” she said. “I hate fire.”

“I’m sure you do, honey. I’m sorry about your parents.”

She hopped down from her perch on the fence where she’d been petting Bluebird. Two puppies raced to flop in her lap. “I can’t remember my mama’s voice anymore.” Her voice was choked. “I never wanted to forget it.”

He put his hand on her head. “I’m sure she loved you very much.”

“Do you think she’s looking down from heaven and watching me? The preacher says she is.”

They were killed in a meth lab explosion. What were the chances that her parents were Christians? “Did your mama take you to church?”

India nodded. “We went every Sunday. Sometimes at night too. And Mama went to a Bible study across the street.”

“How about your daddy?”

“I didn’t see him much. He was always working. Sometimes he gave me horsey rides on his back.” Her eyes were moist when she glanced up at him. “About heaven?”

“I think your mommy is there waiting for you.”

“Mama threw my dad out, you know. She said he was doing bad things in the basement. I guess he was. He came back when she was at work. When she got back, she yelled at him and he slammed the door to the basement. Then she took me to bed and went back downstairs. The boom woke me up.”

“How did you get out?” he asked.

“An angel,” she said simply, her tone grave.

“An angel?”

She nodded. “He was dressed in a firefighter outfit, but when he carried me out, he disappeared and I never saw him again.”

He could see she believed it. And who was he to say it wasn’t real? When did he start thinking God would never do something miraculous for him? He brought about miracles every day. He’d saved Brianna when they all thought she was dead. What the kidnapper meant for evil, God had redeemed. Though danger was still out there somewhere, Clay had to trust God was going to see them through this. He’d done it so far.

“Mr. Clay?” India plucked at his shirtsleeve. “You have a funny look on your face.”

“I was just thinking about how God takes care of things for us.”

“Mama always said that too. And he let me come here. I prayed and prayed for him to take me out of that house.”

“What’s happening there, honey?” he asked, making sure to gentle his voice.

She was quiet a minute, her small face serious as she worked out what to say. He could see the indecision on her face, in the twist of her mouth and the darting of her gaze from him to the ground.

“There’s five of us orphans,” she said finally. “Cal and Wanda take their two kids to do fun stuff and leave us home. We usually have soup or peanut butter sandwiches for dinner.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The older kids say they just took us in for the money.”

Clay didn’t doubt it. There were great foster parents out there but some stinkers too. The good and the bad mixed up together, as in all of life. He wanted to do something for this little girl. Did she have to go back to that situation? Could Rick make a recommendation that she be moved?

He’d never expected to be so embroiled in the lives of these kids.

Her burns had faded to darkened skin. Eden had avoided talking about anything personal with Clay. She didn’t want to rush into anything, the way she had crashed into their marriage. Everything in her wanted to take his declaration of love at face value, but she hadn’t been able to handle his frequent absences. What made her think she could endure them any more easily now?

India held Eden’s left hand and Lacie held her right. Clay herded the other girls behind them as they hurried toward the store. Madeline wore her princess costume over her jeans. The girls stepped over the weeds sprouting through the cracks in the sidewalk, chanting, “Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.”

The morbid song brought an image of her birth mother’s face to Eden. What was she going to do about her mother’s desire to have a relationship? There was no animosity in Eden’s heart, just caution. She didn’t have the energy to focus on her mother when all she wanted to do was find Brianna and rebuild her life.

India yanked on the store door, and the cool rush of air hitting Eden’s face brought her out of her thoughts. “Who’s ready to buy jeans?” she asked.

“Me!” Madeline said, shuffling behind her in the plastic heels that went with her costume. “I don’t want ones with holes. Can we get some with lace?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Clay said, keeping a straight face.

Eden smiled and led the way to the stacks of girls’ jeans. She pulled out sizes ranging from fives to sevens. “Let’s try some on.”

“I want red ones,” Lacie said.

“How about a red top? I don’t think they make red jeans,” Eden said.

“Right here are some,” the child said, pointing to a stack of colored jeans.

Sure enough, there were red ones in her size. Eden shrugged and draped two pairs over her arm. “Whatever you want,” she said.

She found jeans for all the girls, then realized Clay was missing. When he reappeared, the smug expression on his face told her she wasn’t going to like the reason he’d disappeared.

“What have you been up to?” she asked, narrowing her gaze at him.

His grin widened. “Who, me?”

Then she noticed the jeans on his arm. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. You need some too. And some boots.” He held up what looked suspiciously like snakeskin boots.

Katie clapped her hands and jumped up and down. “Yeah, we can match!”

“I don’t think so,” Eden said. But when the girls’ pleading faces turned her way, she began to relent. Surely she was adult enough not to care what people thought of her anymore. Who said she had to maintain that old image? She could re-create herself here. With Clay and the girls, she could be herself and not worry that someone might think she was poor white trash.

“It’s hard to fit jeans, and I don’t have time to try on half a dozen pair,” she said.

Clay’s smiled turned even more smug. “These will fit. Trust me.” He held them out. She held his warm gaze as she took them. “If they don’t fit, we’ll forget them. I found some with lace for Madeline.” He handed a pair of jeans with lace at the hem and on the pockets to the little girl, who squealed and clutched them to her chest.

Eden smiled and ushered the girls into the dressing room. The way he’d gone to the trouble to find them for her touched her in ways she hadn’t expected. Clay surprised her at every turn.

After she got the girls fitted, she tried on her jeans. They fit perfectly. The boots fit too. She looked taller and even more slender in the dark jeans and heeled boots. All she needed was a saddle and he’d be putting her in the rodeo.

“I want a style show,” Clay called from outside the dressing room. “You all have been in there long enough.”

Her cheeks flared with heat when she stepped out of the dressing room and saw the appreciation in his eyes.

“Told you they’d fit,” he said. “You look sensational.”

A curtsy wasn’t appropriate in these clothes, but she did one anyway. “Thank you. They’re comfortable.”

“Look at me, Mr. Clay,” Katie said. She did a handspring across the floor. “Mine are stretchy.”

“Very nice,” Clay said. He complimented each girl in turn.

Eden marveled at his ability to say the most encouraging thing to each child. He was a born daddy.

25

A
TRIP TO A BUFFALO RANCH
. W
HOSE IDEA WAS THIS
? E
DEN GESTURED TO THE GIRLS TO
board the van. Zeke and Della already had their charges in the back and settled for the drive. Eden’s girls were squealing and jumping up and down with excitement as she herded them onto the bus. Rita had come along as well. She wanted to research a buffalo ranch for one of her romance novels.

Allie waved to Eden from the porch. “Phone call,” Allie said.

Eden stepped back off the van a moment and motioned for Clay to take over. Peering at the caller ID, she saw it was her mother’s number. “Hello, Mom.”

“Eden, dear, I wanted to check and see if I might stop by and see you.”

“You’re still in the area?”

“We’ve spent the past several nights here in Alpine. I . . . I wanted to give you a chance to adjust before I called again.”

Eden found she wanted to see her mother, if only to find out if there was any chance that Hector Santiago wasn’t her father. “We are going to Marathon today, to a buffalo ranch. It shouldn’t be more than about thirty minutes from you.” She gave her mother directions, then hung up and climbed into the van.

“Who was that?” Clay’s eyes were shadowed. Neither of them had slept well last night because the girls were unusually wound up from their shopping adventure. “My mother. She’s still in Alpine. She and Omar are meeting us at the ranch.”

The bus was ready to leave, so there was no more time for a private conversation. As they traveled to the ranch, Eden thought about how to ask what she needed to know. Her mother was bound to be offended if Eden openly doubted her mother could know the identity of her father. The house had been a merry-go-round of men. How could Nancy be certain? Eden needed to know more.