Read Online A Home in Hill Country (Harlequin Heartwarming) by Roxanne Rustand - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roxanne Rustand
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when Ryan had offered the use of his cell phone. What was going on there?
Abuse came to mind. But Kristin had never seemed the type, and there didn’t seem to be a dad in the picture anymore.
Ryan felt a twinge of anger. She’d kicked him aside like a pile of dirty laundry when she learned that he wouldn’t inherit any part of the ranch. After that, Kristin had gone after the first rich boy she met. And apparently that hadn’t lasted, either.
And now the one who was suffering was that young boy.
The children…it was always the children who suffered most. He closed his eyes against the images from the Middle East that still haunted his nights, but he couldn’t block the sounds. The screams. Bowing his head, he immersed himself in the guilt and the horror of it all. There was nothing he could do to change things. Nothing he could do to bring them back.
All he could do was remember…and remember. Until the day he died.
The roar of a truck shook him out of his private memorial. In the rearview mirror he saw a cloud of dust boiling skyward behind a pickup that had to be doing nearly seventy on a gravel road.
He threw his truck into gear and pulled way over to the side, hoping the driver didn’t lose control at the crest of the hill. Seconds later, gravel hit the side of his truck like a barrage of buckshot as the vehicle thundered by.
Ryan followed the other driver home and parked next to him. He was out of his truck and at the other driver’s door as the guy stepped out. “I hope there was a fire,” he snapped. “You could’ve killed someone driving like that.”
The man hoisted a bull rope onto his shoulder, turned and gave him an arrogant grin. Garrett. “Just clockin’ good time out of town. Most people are smart enough to get out of my way.”
Ryan’s anger blazed. “But everyone deserves to live, punk. You’re just too dumb to realize it.”
Garrett tipped back his head and laughed, his brash cockiness unfazed. “Well, aren’t we lucky. The big hero is back. I can’t wait to see what happens around here now.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I F SHE WAS EVER going to find out the truth about her dad, she’d have to start asking the right people in town, which meant she’d have to get closer to the Gallaghers. Clint’s hostility had only firmed her resolve.
Tomorrow, she would stop in at the sheriff’s office, and this evening, she and Cody were going for a nice ride…in the right direction.
When they reached the end of their pasture, she twisted in her saddle and rested a palm on Boots’s broad rump. A rusted pipe gate led into the vast, deserted reaches of the K-Bar-C ranch, where there would be many other homesteaders someday. “How’s it going?”
Cody tipped his junior-size Stetson back with a forefinger, mimicking the cowboys he’d seen in town. “Way cool. Rebel is the best ever!”
“Yes, he is.” The gentle gelding plodded along, his head low and swinging with every step. So far, he’d ignored grouse flying up in front of his nose, a pair of deer bounding through the trees and had sidestepped an armadillo trundling acrossthe path. For an inexperienced nine-year-old rider, Rebel was worth his weight in gold.
She dismounted and wrestled with the rusted hook and chain, opened the gate and led her horse through, then waited for Cody to pass. “We’ll just leave this open while we ride. Miranda tells me that the Home Free program owns over five hundred acres of open pasture adjoining our land, and she says it’s okay to ride back here for now.”
Cody lifted a water bottle from his horn bag—the small saddlebags hanging from either side of his saddle horn—and took a long swallow. “We shoulda brought a picnic supper.”
“Maybe next time. I’m sure we’ll be riding here a lot.”
The plat maps she’d studied showed that the western edge of her property curved to the west a mile or so from her pasture gate. There, if she’d guessed right, they’d almost be within sight of
Abuse came to mind. But Kristin had never seemed the type, and there didn’t seem to be a dad in the picture anymore.
Ryan felt a twinge of anger. She’d kicked him aside like a pile of dirty laundry when she learned that he wouldn’t inherit any part of the ranch. After that, Kristin had gone after the first rich boy she met. And apparently that hadn’t lasted, either.
And now the one who was suffering was that young boy.
The children…it was always the children who suffered most. He closed his eyes against the images from the Middle East that still haunted his nights, but he couldn’t block the sounds. The screams. Bowing his head, he immersed himself in the guilt and the horror of it all. There was nothing he could do to change things. Nothing he could do to bring them back.
All he could do was remember…and remember. Until the day he died.
The roar of a truck shook him out of his private memorial. In the rearview mirror he saw a cloud of dust boiling skyward behind a pickup that had to be doing nearly seventy on a gravel road.
He threw his truck into gear and pulled way over to the side, hoping the driver didn’t lose control at the crest of the hill. Seconds later, gravel hit the side of his truck like a barrage of buckshot as the vehicle thundered by.
Ryan followed the other driver home and parked next to him. He was out of his truck and at the other driver’s door as the guy stepped out. “I hope there was a fire,” he snapped. “You could’ve killed someone driving like that.”
The man hoisted a bull rope onto his shoulder, turned and gave him an arrogant grin. Garrett. “Just clockin’ good time out of town. Most people are smart enough to get out of my way.”
Ryan’s anger blazed. “But everyone deserves to live, punk. You’re just too dumb to realize it.”
Garrett tipped back his head and laughed, his brash cockiness unfazed. “Well, aren’t we lucky. The big hero is back. I can’t wait to see what happens around here now.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I F SHE WAS EVER going to find out the truth about her dad, she’d have to start asking the right people in town, which meant she’d have to get closer to the Gallaghers. Clint’s hostility had only firmed her resolve.
Tomorrow, she would stop in at the sheriff’s office, and this evening, she and Cody were going for a nice ride…in the right direction.
When they reached the end of their pasture, she twisted in her saddle and rested a palm on Boots’s broad rump. A rusted pipe gate led into the vast, deserted reaches of the K-Bar-C ranch, where there would be many other homesteaders someday. “How’s it going?”
Cody tipped his junior-size Stetson back with a forefinger, mimicking the cowboys he’d seen in town. “Way cool. Rebel is the best ever!”
“Yes, he is.” The gentle gelding plodded along, his head low and swinging with every step. So far, he’d ignored grouse flying up in front of his nose, a pair of deer bounding through the trees and had sidestepped an armadillo trundling acrossthe path. For an inexperienced nine-year-old rider, Rebel was worth his weight in gold.
She dismounted and wrestled with the rusted hook and chain, opened the gate and led her horse through, then waited for Cody to pass. “We’ll just leave this open while we ride. Miranda tells me that the Home Free program owns over five hundred acres of open pasture adjoining our land, and she says it’s okay to ride back here for now.”
Cody lifted a water bottle from his horn bag—the small saddlebags hanging from either side of his saddle horn—and took a long swallow. “We shoulda brought a picnic supper.”
“Maybe next time. I’m sure we’ll be riding here a lot.”
The plat maps she’d studied showed that the western edge of her property curved to the west a mile or so from her pasture gate. There, if she’d guessed right, they’d almost be within sight of
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