Once a Rancher (21 page)

He stopped Heck by a trio of sapling pines and thought it over, the reins hanging.

Just let her handle it?

He really wished Spence hadn't pointed out that damage could fly sideways instead, since that made him very nervous. No one could protect him or herself from all possibilities.

He felt it was time for a Carson-style intervention—but he could be wrong. He listened to what the mountains were telling him.
It wouldn't hurt if you were around in case of trouble.

Was he just hearing what he wanted to hear?

Maybe you should stand back. You're already crowding her.

He tipped back his hat, listening not just to the river flowing past him, but to his heart, as well.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

B
LYTHE
C
ARSON
HAD
an air about her that showed an unmistakable personal confidence Grace admired. This particular afternoon she was dressed in a long ivory skirt and a dark blue silk blouse, and Grace would guess that the pearls in the clip holding back the elegant twist of hair weren't imitation.

An invitation to lunch by her future mother-in-law wasn't something she could easily refuse. Practically impossible to say no when she was given the choice of day and time. The restaurant was a new addition to Mustang Creek called Sara-Anne's—certainly more genteel than Bad Billy's Burger Palace—and only served tea and sandwiches with ingredients like watercress and smoked salmon. Grace chose the organic chicken salad on homemade wheat bread and wondered exactly what Blythe wanted to talk about.

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that it was going to be the wedding.

Of course.

Newsflash: Oldest son is getting married. Finally. Yes, this was going to be a conversation about weddings. Blythe obviously knew the restaurant owner, who bustled over and seated them at a table overlooking a small water fountain and mums that were still blooming, and they greeted each other by name.

“I want to say,” Blythe informed her after the fresh rolls were delivered, “that I'm delighted you and Slater have decided to get married.”

“Well, he's a decent guy.”

That was so lame. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Let me rephrase. He's way too interested in meddling in my life, and he's on the controlling side—but I suppose I am, too. And yet...I said yes. If you can explain it to me, go ahead.”

Blythe took one of the rolls, quietly laughing. “That certainly describes my relationship with his father. Not love/hate but love/love. His assumption that he could take care of any problem better than I could infuriated me, but then I reminded myself that his motivation was to protect me. So I threw the anger out the window and fell in love with him instead.” She paused. “Over time, we developed our compromises, the ones that worked for us, but the basis of everything was love.”

There was obviously something this woman wanted to know. It wasn't about the wedding; Grace understood that now. “I
do
love him.”

“So you should. He's a wonderful man.”

They regarded each other over the table, and Grace finally caved, “You're deliberately testing me.”

Blythe put down her roll and touched the linen napkin to her lips before she spoke. “Of course I am. He's waited for you. I know my son. Once he's decided, then he's decided. I need to know you've decided, too.”

“If you had any idea how hard this was for me, you wouldn't even ask. I'm so frightened of risking his happiness, I can't begin to tell you.”

Her future mother-in-law smiled and it was genuine, not merely polite. “His happiness is important, but so is yours. Let's talk about Ryder's, too. He's happier about the engagement than I think you realize. He doesn't really talk about it, but he wants a traditional family. He's been an only child his entire life, and he's always struggled with his place in this world. He never mentions his birth mother.”

Grace doubted his birth mother mentioned him, either. She certainly hoped the woman treated her other children better than she'd treated him.

It wasn't news, but she had to ask, “Did he say that? Out loud?”

Blythe laughed and shook her head. “Of course not. Boys don't admit they struggle. They pretend they don't. Their emotions go as deep as ours, but they're often not very good, very practiced, at expressing them.” She studied the linen tablecloth for a moment. “You know, Slater isn't over the death of his father. But it's made him a very good father to Daisy, I promise you that, and I console myself with it every single day. I don't mean to get maudlin. Things happen. We all know that. You were a police officer so you're especially aware that the world isn't perfect. Anyway, let's move on. This discussion is about happiness. What color?”

Grace had been about to say the chicken salad was delicious and had no idea how to answer Blythe's question. She stopped with a forkful halfway to her mouth. “We're talking about...”

“Dresses. Bridal gown and bridesmaids'. What color? Long skirts or short? Harry and I were thinking long because of the season.”

Slater's prediction came through like a bright light shining down a tunnel. The wedding was being planned—just not by her. “Light blue,” she said, at least prepared for that question. “Something very simple. I thought I'd ask Daisy if she'll be a bridesmaid. My assistant, Meg, has already said yes. Two of them to balance Drake and Mace. That's it.”

“I understand you want simple, since you've been married before, but Slater hasn't. There hasn't been a Carson wedding since mine, and that was quite some time ago.” Blythe's smile glimmered. “We won't go into how many years or I'll start to feel old. Also, I'm sure Ryder will be included, so you should have three bridesmaids. Who else?”

Slater came by his ability to get what he wanted honestly. Maybe they
should
elope, but...Blythe seemed to be enjoying this, and Grace knew he'd want his mother to be happy. “I could ask my sister-in-law in Texas, but she has a busy life and young family... What about Raine?”

Blythe's smile widened, and there was a hint of mischief there. “I was going to suggest it, but I was afraid you might find that awkward. It isn't. She's one of Slater's very good friends, and I know she's happy for him. I, uh, might already have mentioned it to her.”

She clearly would not be planning her own wedding. Grace could feel it skidding out of her control. She said with a certain resignation, “I'll call her.”

“She'll appreciate that. Now, shall we talk flowers?”

An hour later Grace got into her car and hit Slater's number on her cell phone. Skipping hello, he said, “Told you.”

“Smug is not how you're going to win my affections.”

“I thought I had that in the bag. So, how was lunch?”

“Delicious. And I love your mother, but how come I didn't agree to elope—somewhere tropical? Or maybe Las Vegas for a quickie wedding?”

“That's my question, too. Has Harry decided on the menu?”

“Oh, yes. And the table settings right down to the napkin rings. I was asked a few questions, but most of it was figured out quite a while ago, and they were just pretending I had a say.”

“Welcome to Carsonville, USA. I might be the oldest male, by the way, but I am definitely not in charge.”

“I think Red's the oldest male, and he has more clout than you.”

His response held amusement. “Can't argue with that. His name might not be Carson, but Drake, Mace and I stand at attention when he comes into a room. That old coot could probably still wipe the floor with all three of us if we got out of line. What are we doing tonight?”

“I just had lunch with your mother, so you're having dinner with my ex-husband.”

She felt no small sense of satisfaction when he said in audible dismay,
“What?”

“Steaks on the grill, twice-baked potatoes, seven-layer salad. I figured since you're bringing Ryder home this evening, you could stay and eat with us.” What she didn't add was that she wasn't interested in another tension-filled evening alone with Hank, especially now that he knew she was marrying another man. Ryder often ate dinner at the ranch, so she'd sat across the table from Hank one too many times, trying to defuse the silence with polite conversation. Slater would be good company, and it would help to have Ryder there, too. Hank would make an effort to converse with his son.

She needn't have worried. When she got to the condo, his rental car was gone...and so was he. There was a sealed note on the counter with Ryder's name on it and for her, the usual.
New orders. Hank.

No thank-you for her hospitality, but she didn't really expect one. He'd caught on immediately that she was involved with someone else, but he and Slater seemed to have if not a liking for each other, at least mutual respect and civility.

Part of her was overjoyed that his stay had been cut short because she hadn't been pleased about it in the first place, and part of her mourned for Ryder yet again. However, he was in a stable environment now, where a lot of people cared about him. She took one of the steaks she'd bought and stuck it in the freezer, went over to Bonaparte, who was napping on the couch, and stroked his back. “Plus,” she informed the cat, “he has you.”

Ryder's best friend managed to purr and yawn at the same time.

Her phone beeped and Grace got up to check, expecting it to be the resort since she was taking a day off, but it was Slater and he sounded tense. “Grace, Ryder didn't get off the bus. I can't find him and I've been looking. Can you call the school?”

* * *

W
ELL
,
HELL
.

Slater drove his truck along the bus route one more time, his throat dry. Ryder, so far, anyway, hadn't missed the bus once since he'd started working at the ranch, and Slater felt a gnawing worry that grew worse with each passing minute.

It had been almost an hour. He wasn't the only one worrying, either. Next to him, Red asked, “You mind telling me exactly what's going on, cowboy? Because I'm getting the feeling that there's a dead mouse in the pantry.”

He could tell Red anything; he knew that. “Grace fired someone who thinks he needs a bit of revenge, and Ryder would be just the way to do it. Maybe I'm panicking for nothing, but maybe I'm not. I have to go with my gut...and my gut says this isn't good.”

“I kinda wondered why you were so jumpy earlier.” Red took off his hat and ran his hand through his graying hair. “Nobody better hurt that kid.”

“Got that right.” Slater meant it, too. He took a fast turn that made his tires squeal, then slowed it down. The cops wouldn't appreciate it if he caused an accident. They had enough to do. No one seemed to know where Ryder Emery was. Spence Hogan had detailed several officers to search for him. The fact that Hank Emery had been knocked unconscious recently and Grace had reported the repeated vandalism of her car, as well as those photographs, meant Spence was taking this very seriously. When Slater passed a state trooper's car and then a second one, he knew just how seriously.

If Slater was in full panic mode, he could only imagine how Grace felt.

Grace's car was in the driveway of the condo and she was hovering in the doorway, talking on her cell phone. Her face, framed by her vivid hair, was extremely pale.

When he got out, she ended the call and came outside. But before he could take her in his arms to offer comfort, Red beat him to it. He hugged her and patted her back. “L'il darlin', we'll find him. That boy is a smart cookie.”

She hugged him back, composed, and yet her voice held a distinct wobble. “I know he is. But he's only fourteen, and Reinhart is a coward. I had some experience with this sort of thing when I was a cop, and I can tell you cowards scare me a lot more than the big bad boys. He's a sociopath, and having a lack of conscience also means a lack of empathy. I am so damn mad right now I could—”

“Spit?” Red supplied helpfully.

That wrung out a weak laugh. “Okay, yeah, spit.”

Slater asked, “Where's Hank? At the school? I have Drake and Mace out there looking, so we don't want to overlap. Raine's going to all the local teen hangouts, and my mother and Harry are going to call instantly if he shows up at the ranch.”

“Hank left for who knows where.” She raised her phone. “I can't get hold of him. I keep trying and leaving messages on his voice mail. He either can't or won't answer. Your guess is as good as mine as to which one it is. He's ticked off at me because of you.”

It wasn't as if this was startling news.

“None of this is your fault.” He kept his voice gentle.

His feisty bride-to-be shot right back. “Oh, I know that. Hank's misguided assumption that I'd ever be interested in a repeat performance of our failed relationship is his problem. And I'd fire David Reinhart's dishonest ass again tomorrow.”

That was the Grace he knew. And loved. But he could see the distress in her eyes—and was still in shock because as far as he knew Red had
never
hugged anyone (other than his long-ago wife). Maybe a handshake or a slap on the shoulder, but a real hug? Forget it.

“We'll find him,” Slater repeated, but this was outside the scope of his experience.

“Where?” She was much more practical. “How? I'm open to all suggestions.”

But his phone rang then, which meant he could avoid answering her. Just as well, since he was at a total loss. He saw Drake's number on call display. “Hello?”

His brother was as eloquent as usual. “Got 'im.”

“Ryder?”

“Yeah, who else am I looking for? I'm not the FBI or anything. He's the only kid I was tracking down.”

He reminded himself he loved Drake so he could overlook the sarcasm and gave Grace a thumbs-up and mouthed,
He's safe
. “Where was he?”

“Is. County fair. Told me his dad said it was okay. Another parent took him there. Seems one of the other kids broke his leg and has one heck of a cow pony. So all his friends agreed Ryder should enter the calf-roping in his place.”

If Slater wasn't light-headed with relief, he might've tried to hunt down Hank Emery and given him hell for not letting Grace know.

He could hear the reluctance in Drake's voice, but his brother admitted, “I feel responsible. That kid's really taken to roping and said he wanted to go watch the rodeo. Of course I thought he'd ask Grace, too, not just the old man. It finally occurred to me that might be where he was, since he'd asked for a day off. I'm sorry I didn't put two and two together faster.”