Sunflower Lane Page 7

  Even her closest friends didn’t get that she really was unlucky in love. It was practically a family tradition.

  Of course, according to the family stories, her grandparents had been happy together at first—living at the ranch her grandfather built on Sunflower Lane, running cattle on eight hundred acres that Big Jed Cooper—her grandfather’s bank-robbing father—had purchased in the late 1800s, supposedly with what was left of his stolen loot after the bulk of it disappeared.

  Grandpa Joe and Grandma Lillie had been very much in love and were thrilled when their first daughter, Lorelei, was born. Life had been good on Sunflower Lane.

  But a few years later, on the very night that Annabelle’s mother, Meg, came into the world, Grandpa Joe had gone out to the barn one more time to check on his horses and had been killed instantly by lightning.

  Everything changed in that moment. Her grandmother’s joy at the birth of a second daughter turned to devastation. Grandma Lillie had tumbled into a dark, fathomless depression, and though she dutifully went through the motions of caring for her newborn, she could barely stand to look at her, much less delight in her coos and smiles and tiny accomplishments. So Annabelle’s mother had not only grown up without ever having a chance to know her own father; her own mother never bonded with her.

  While Lorelei’s birthday continued to be a day of celebration, of parties and cake and gifts, Meg’s birthday had always been regarded by Grandma Lillie as a day of sadness and gloom. A day she stayed in bed, and stared out her window. Mourning.

  On the day Annabelle’s mother married, she’d written in her diary that she looked forward to being married to Sam Harper forever. But Annabelle’s father abandoned her and his two daughters when Trish was twelve and Annabelle only nine. He’d run off with a divorced cocktail waitress named Lainie Durant who’d worked at a run-down little bar halfway up Eagle Mountain.

  Aside from a birthday card or two the first few years after he left, neither of the sisters had heard from their father again.

  Fortunately, Trish and Ron had been blissfully happy together in their marriage. They’d built a wonderful life on Sunflower Lane. They had three great kids, and Ron was making good money. They were planning a trip for the entire family to Disneyland.

  Until the plane crash.

  Annabelle’s own experiences with the opposite sex hadn’t exactly given her confidence in the dating and mating arena. First, she’d been lied about in high school, thanks to Clay and his pals, and then . . . then there had been Zack.

  Zack, the perfect man. Cute, fun, joking. Successful.

  And a complete ass.

  Who for way too long hadn’t had the decency to give up and stay out of her life.

  Men were far more trouble than they were worth. Most men, anyway. Charlotte’s Tim was sweet and earnest, and utterly devoted to her. Tess’s husband, John, was solid as a boulder, honest, and so caring about her and the baby. All three of the Tanner brothers were happily married to women they adored and cherished and treated with love and respect.

  But some families aren’t lucky that way, she often reminded herself.

  And the last thing she’d ever want to do was mess up her young nieces and nephew by bringing some unreliable man into their lives.

  They’d already had enough loss and upheaval.

  So had she.

  Stay focused on the kids, she told herself. They need you. And they need stability. But when she happened to see Ivy Tanner eating ice cream in the park with some friends as she was driving home, she pulled over and asked the teenager about babysitting that evening.

  Ivy was available and eager for the job.

  Deal with it, Annabelle ordered herself. You’ll have fun with Tess and John, Charlotte and Tim.

  She decided, though, that she’d drive herself so she could leave whenever she wanted to.

  It might be good to get out a little bit for one evening. As long as no one asked her to dance and tried to put his hand on her butt—or wanted to buy her a drink in expectation that she’d hook up with him.

  It wasn’t going to be that kind of a night.

  It was just a simple girls’ night out, really. A girls’ night out, with two guys tagging along. A soon-to-be married man and a soon-to-be father.

  Wow, my social life totally rocks. She grinned to herself as she headed home to Sunflower Lane.

  Chapter Six

  Wes discovered a grimy old tape measure, along with a rusty hammer and hunting knife, in a bucket under the cabin’s kitchen sink, and measured the broken windows first—right after polishing off his coffee, and that incredible muffin Annabelle had tossed at him. After making a note of the windows’ dimensions, he stepped back and took a good hard tour around every inch of the cabin, then walked through it again, taking an exact inventory of all the repairs necessary to get the old place in shape.

  The place was dim, musty, and thick with dust, but he saw nothing that couldn’t be repaired with several weeks of hard work and elbow grease.

  He stuffed the list of supplies he’d need into his jeans pocket, then headed to town and Merck’s Hardware store.

  As he steered his truck along the rough dirt road and past the Harper house, he thought back to that big mouthwatering slice of strawberry pie he’d had right in his hands. The one Annabelle Harper had snatched away from him. A reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

  She was very different from what he’d expected—from that gorgeous, feisty high school girl he remembered from all those years ago, a girl with a slutty reputation and a pretty little chin she liked to stick up in the air when she walked down the halls. She was still gorgeous, all right. Man, maybe even more so, he reflected, thinking of that elegant profile, the lush lips that were naturally pink without a trace of any lip goo, and a mass of dazzling blond hair caught up in a tortoiseshell clip this morning, making him want to pull that clip away and watch all that wavy golden hair spill down past her shoulders. But now she was somehow elusive, a little bit aloof, closed off. Her golden brown eyes had studied him warily when he talked about staying in the cabin.

  She really hadn’t wanted to let him—what was that all about?

  Wes considered himself pretty solid at reading people—hell, if he hadn’t learned how to do that, he wouldn’t have lived this long—and he saw a wariness in Annabelle that puzzled him.

  She didn’t want anyone living close by. She wanted her space. Private and secure. Maybe because of her sister’s death, of all the responsibility that had been thrust on her so suddenly. Maybe for other reasons as well.

  She’d looked different than he’d expected, too. Softer, maybe.

  But his guess was she was one tough female. Not physically tough like Cara had been—Annabelle didn’t have the cool glitter he’d seen so often in Cara’s eyes. Or the ability to blow a man’s head off in less than a second, as he’d seen her do on more than one occasion, and then toss back a scotch an hour later and rake through every detail of the mission, pacing and running her hands through her hair, analyzing what had gone wrong and what had gone right.

  But Annabelle Harper’s devotion to those kids was clear as the Montana sky. She’d taken charge of them—and of him—in that kitchen with the determination of a commanding officer or two he’d encountered over the years.

  A woman who looked soft as an angel and took charge like a CO.

  Intriguing.

  Wes liked strong women, but not necessarily bossy ones, he reminded himself. So why was he even thinking about her?

  Annabelle might be a mouthwatering beauty, but she’s still off-limits, he reminded himself. She lost her sister, she’s raising three kids, and I’m outta here right after the Fourth of July.

  So . . .

  Nothing’s going to happen.

  Even if she wanted it to, which she clearly didn’t.

  She’d been all busi
ness with him. And a lot more interested in her nieces and nephew. Which was the way it should be.

  Besides, a woman in his hometown, friends with his sister? Way too dangerous. Even for him.

  Stick to the plan, he reminded himself as he turned off Squirrel Road and headed toward Main Street. Get all the repairs done, visit Gran, bunk in the cabin—alone—and get out of Dodge on the fifth of July.

  Period, he told himself. A few minutes later he swung into a parking space across the street from Merck’s Hardware, erased the delicate beauty of Annabelle Harper from his brain, and sprang out of the truck.

  “Hey, Wes. Heard you were back in town.”

  Glancing up from the checkout counter as the teenaged clerk rang up his purchases, Wes saw Jake Tanner coming toward him, his hand extended.

  He hadn’t seen Jake since high school—aside from spotting him on TV a couple of times in one of those beer or shaving cream commercials the former rodeo champ now starred in. Back in the day, they’d been teammates on the high school wrestling team, though Jake had been a few years behind him in school.

  “Good to see you, Jake.” They pumped hands. “Unlike you, though, I’m not staying long.” Wes grinned. “Heard you went and got married—threw in the towel on the rodeo life.”

  “You better believe it. For something a whole lot better.”

  He spoke so emphatically, Wes felt a twinge of surprise. Jake looked like the happiest cowboy in Montana.

  “I’ve got myself a family now. Two little girls and a woman I wouldn’t trade for every trophy on the circuit.”

  “Good, I’m happy for you. So what are you doing with yourself now that you’re retired?”

  “Hell, I’m not retired.” Jake shook his head. “I’m working harder than ever. Still making some personal appearances at rodeos—and filming a few commercials now and then to help fund my new project. It’s keeping me plenty busy. Did Sophie tell you about my retreat?”

  Wes shook his head. “Not yet. At dinner last night we mostly talked about where I was going to stay while I’m here and debating how long,” he said drily.

  “Well, you should come out and take a look at my place sometime. We call it Lonesome Way Rodeo Camp. It’s a retreat for bullied kids and their families—” He broke off. “Just had an idea, Wes. Maybe you’d be willing to come by and talk to these kids sometime while you’re here. Antidrug stuff. Or empowerment, confidence building. Whatever you want.”

  “Sure. I never heard of anything like this, with whole families. Sounds like a great idea, though.”

  “These kids come from all around the country. Usually when a kid is bullied, it rocks the entire family. They all need help, support. So I have different groups of families come and stay for a week or so over Christmas and spring breaks, or a week at a time throughout the summer months. We give ’em horseback riding lessons, go hiking and fishing. I’ve been bringing in counselors and role models, like athletes or artists who volunteer to speak, and to work with the kids, just trying to give them and their families a positive break, some support and coping mechanisms. It’s going better than I even dreamed.”

  Wes was surprised. And impressed. “Sounds great,” he said, and meant it.

  “We’re doing up a big barbecue this weekend. Burgers and hot dogs, a bonfire, s’mores, and even some entertainment. Madison Hodge and her band will be performing, and leading a sing-along. And next week there’ll be an overnight camping trip in the mountains. Let me know if you want to come in sometime, give a talk about drugs, maybe even teach these kids some self-defense moves.”

  “Be happy to,” Wes said instantly, liking what he was hearing.

  “The self-defense stuff would be more about giving them confidence than promoting violence. Man, when I hear some of the stories about what these kids have gone through . . .” He shook his head. “Whatever we can do to build them up, make them stronger on the inside, can make a huge difference.”

  “Sure. I’m glad to help out—any way I can.” After his years working at the DEA, Wes knew better than anyone the kind of irreparable harm drugs and violence had on young and old alike. “Just so you know, I’m heading out after July Fourth, so let’s set up a couple of dates real soon.”

  “Tell you what, how about I buy you a beer tonight at the Double Cross and we’ll work out the details? Carly has some friends coming over later for a little quilting party, so I’m on my own. They’re all making squares for a friendship quilt to sell at the Fourth of July celebration. All the proceeds go to updating the community center. Want to meet around eight?”

  “That’ll work. Actually, I’d like to pick your brain some, too.” Wes hefted his bags of supplies and turned toward the door. “There’s a little project of my own I’ve been thinking about, and I’m ready to get it off the ground. It’s different from yours, and won’t be based in Lonesome Way, but maybe you can give me some tips.”

  “You got it. Whatever I can do.”

  Wes frowned as he realized that the hardware store’s young clerk was listening intently to their conversation. He wasn’t ready for his plans—his not-yet-completely-formalized plans—to spread around the town like wildfire.

  “I’ll fill you in tonight. Look forward to your input.” He shook hands again with Jake and swung out the door.

  Chapter Seven

  It was right after he finished loading his supplies in the truck that Wes spotted the dog.

  Pausing in the pale spring sunlight, he stared at the white-and-black-speckled mutt wandering through the park. There wasn’t anyone near the animal, and the dog ignored the kids laughing and shouting on the swings and the slide. He was all alone, nosing around the wastebasket near the picnic tables. Searching for food, Wes realized with a frown.

  The animal was skin and bones.

  He’s got a little bit of pit bull in him. Maybe mixed in with some Lab. And God knows what else.

  The mutt’s coat was dirty, his body scarred in a lot of places, and he looked weak. Grimacing, Wes strode toward him.

  He watched the dog sniff around the grass beneath the picnic tables and find a crust of bread, which he gobbled up even as Wes approached.

  No collar, Wes noticed. His gut tightened as the dog cowered when he drew near, then started to veer away.

  “Hey, buddy. It’s all right. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Sure as hell not me.”

  The dog didn’t seem to believe him and turned to run, but Wes spoke with authority.

  “Sit.”

  The animal glanced back at him, looking confused—half alarmed and half intrigued.

  “Sit,” Wes repeated.

  The dog sat.

  “So you were somebody’s pet once.” Wes approached slowly so as not to scare him. The mutt didn’t appear to be sick—or mean. But he was plenty weak, and more than a little apprehensive.

  Pity and anger churned through Wes.

  Pity for the animal. Anger at whoever had inflicted some of those scars on the dog’s scruffy coat.

  “You don’t have a home, do you, buddy?” Though he was speaking more to himself than to the dog, the mutt’s ears lifted hopefully.

  Sophie and Rafe might want another dog. They already had Tidbit and Starbucks, but still. . . .

  His eyes narrowed as the mutt’s scraggly excuse for a tail started to wag.

  “I’m going to help you, pal, but I’m not going to keep you,” he added, feeling the need for some full disclosure. “First off, we’ll get you checked out by the vet.”

  Kneeling beside the dog, he felt the lick of a dry tongue.

  “Bet you’d love a steak right about now, wouldn’t you, buddy?”

  The dog offered him a paw.

  “Tough guy, huh?” Wes chuckled as he stroked behind the dog’s ears. Hell, the repairs could wait.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw two boys running
across the park toward him. One of them was Annabelle Harper’s nephew. The fair-haired kid slid to a stop a few feet away, causing the dog’s ears to shoot up warily. Then the second boy dropped onto the grass alongside Ethan.

  “This your dog?” Ethan asked eagerly.

  “Nope, just happened to come across him. We’re headed over to the vet to check him out. Maybe you want to keep him?”

  “Yeah! I wish! But my sister Megan’s scared of dogs, so we can’t get one. But I sure wish we could!”

  The other boy spoke up. “We’ve got a dog and two cats. My mom keeps saying that’s enough for one house.”

  As he spoke, the mutt took a tentative step toward the two boys. They both reached out to pet him.

  “He’s so skinny,” Ethan whispered.

  “And look at all his scars.” The other boy gently stroked the dog’s back.

  “Yeah, that’s why I want the vet to see him.”

  The dog leaned his head tentatively toward the boys, and his droopy tail began to wag. Wes watched Ethan rub behind the dog’s ears. The mutt immediately huddled in closer, sitting right between the two boys, suddenly looking very much at home.

  Ethan’s face lit. “I just had an idea. We should name him Treasure!” He glanced excitedly at his friend, who grinned widely. The boy was all teeth and freckles.

  “Yeah. That’s perfect!”

  As Wes raised an eyebrow, Ethan explained, “This is Jimmy. His great-grandfather and my great-grandfather were both part of the old Barnum gang—they were train robbers and bank robbers! They hid all their treasure somewhere near Lonesome Way and we’re going to find it!”

  His enthusiasm made Wes grin. “Awesome.”

  “All the members of the gang shot one another to death,” Jimmy added with relish, “and the gold could be buried anywhere. A lot of people think it’s up in the mountains near Coyote Pass. We read this book that says there’s a hidden map somewhere that shows the exact spot. We’re going to find it.”