Easter In Dry Creek

Chapter Three

The kitchen was gaining light, Clay noticed as he stood there in the silent room. The clock read seven o’clock. The room looked like it hadn’t been touched since he left here four years ago. The same beige paint was on the walls, and the windowsills were a chipped white. He had noticed a nail by the refrigerator. It held last year’s calendar, and it didn’t appear like the months on it had even been changed.

“Tell me about Mark,” Clay finally asked again as he turned his attention to the older man. “If he doesn’t make some hand motions, how does it work?”

Clay figured the rancher must be imagining some kind of response from his son. The signs of depression were all over this kitchen. Even in prison, the officials became concerned when something as simple as a calendar wasn’t kept updated. Clay guessed Mr. Nelson was telling himself he knew what Mark thought. It was like people who decided their cat was an opera fan because the animal sat there and purred when a song was being sung. He supposed it was very human to imagine that one could know the thoughts of a being who couldn’t communicate.

Mr. Nelson didn’t say anything. Allie, on the other hand, was standing there with a blank look on her face that was so uncharacteristic of her that Clay suspected she was unwilling to tip anyone off to her father’s strange beliefs. Maybe she was embarrassed.

“I know it’s been hard,” Clay said, trying not to let his disappointment show. He might be having those flights of fancy, too, if he was father to someone in a coma. But desperate hope could mess with a man’s mind; no one knew that better than men who had spent time behind bars.

“Oh, no, Mark is talking,” Mr. Nelson said with strength in his voice. He seemed to have understood what Clay was thinking. “It’s not easy. He has to come up with the words, and it’s slow. But he’s talking.”

“He says actual words?”

Mr. Nelson nodded. “More now than when he started.”

Clay looked at the man for a long moment. Then he turned to Allie. She nodded, as well. It was a wooden nod, like something was holding her back, but she did confirm the words.

“He used to just make sounds and we had to guess at the words,” Allie offered.

Clay felt joy start to blossom inside him. “Well, what do you know?” Clay said as he lifted his fist in a gesture of triumph. Mark—his friend, his buddy—was free from the blackness of being in a coma. He’d heard enough stories from men who had spent the night in solitary confinement to have some sense of what that release must feel like to Mark. Not to mention the hope it would bring to his family.

Clay had a sudden impulse to wrap his arms around Allie and coax her into dancing an Irish jig with him. They’d done that once in the rain when they’d clocked a good time racing some of the horses. He, Mark and Allie, all dancing in a circle in the barn and laughing like fools. He needed to do something to celebrate. But he said nothing because he saw Allie was blinking back tears.

“What’s wrong?” Clay asked anxiously. “Am I missing something?”

He supposed Mark could be talking and dying at the same time. That would explain the pinched look on Allie’s face.

She shook her head. “Oh, no. These are happy tears.”

Clay never had understood those kinds of tears. But he was glad Mark was apparently all right.

Suddenly Clay could feel the cat stirring. He put his hand over the place where the feline struggled against the coat, hoping to calm her until he could get her out from inside it.

Then he heard a sound and glanced down in time to see a movement out of the corner of one eye. A young boy was sneaking into the kitchen from the hallway. His flannel pajamas had pictures of galloping horses on them. His dark hair had a cowlick on the left side and was not combed.

The cat seemed to be calm now. Clay relaxed.

The boy slid forward and stood beside Allie. She put her hand on his head without even seeming to realize he was there. Then she stroked his hair in absentminded affection.

“I couldn’t find my clothes.” The boy looked up. “I want the blue shirt.”

“So you’ve been playing instead of getting dressed like Grandpa asked,” Allie said with strong affection in her voice as she leaned down to kiss the top of the boy’s head. The boy nodded sheepishly. Then Allie straightened up.

Clay had never imagined that Allie would have a son. But just because time had stood still for him during the past several years, it didn’t mean it had slowed for anyone else.

He knew Allie well enough to realize that if she had a son it also meant she likely had a husband. He supposed he’d never had a real chance with her, but it still left him empty. He’d pictured her so many times when he was in prison; there was something about her that reminded him of fireflies. Delicate yet bright, flitting from place to place. She always lifted his spirits. He would have given anything to be able to date her. Maybe give her a first kiss.

Clay must have shifted his shoulders as he stood there staring because the cat twisted inside his coat again. He saw that she’d pulled at one of the buttons until it was open. Before Clay could reach down and grab the animal, she flew through the air, landing on her feet atop the worn beige linoleum floor.

“What’s that?” Mr. Nelson demanded to know. He looked around like more cats might be flying toward him from everywhere.

The tabby, its rust-colored fur bristling, stood there in the middle of the kitchen arching her back and looking pleased with her flight. Then she hissed. Clay had no doubt the cat was ready to defend herself from any scolding. But the young boy slid down until he was sitting in front of her.

“Don’t touch her,” Clay cautioned as he bent down and put his hands out to protect the child. “She’s partly wild.”

The cat had likely been tame at some point, but Clay figured she’d forgotten any softness she’d ever known. It had been a long time since she’d had an owner, and he knew how quickly home manners could be forgotten. The boy was already pulling the cat toward him, though. Once he had her in his arms, he rubbed his face against her matted fur.

The feline looked up suspiciously, but she didn’t fight.

“I always wanted a kitty,” the boy said and gave a satisfied sigh. “And this one has orange stripes. That’s my favorite color. Does that mean she’s for me?”

He patted the tabby gently, as though he’d already claimed her.

Clay was glad the boy had never seen a tiger.

“Orange is a good color,” Clay agreed, noticing that the cat had relaxed in the boy’s care. Maybe she remembered more than he thought. “It’s the color for caution, though, so be careful.”

Clay braced himself to make a grab if the cat started to claw her way out of the boy’s embrace, but she stayed where she was. “I expect you’ll want to ask your father if you can keep her.”

Clay knew he shouldn’t have asked it that way. But he wanted to know. He tried to keep his expression neutral. Allie looked like someone’s wife, with her hair pulled back in a barrette and a faded apron covering her jeans. He hoped that whoever the man was he was decent toward her and the boy.

“We don’t talk about his father,” Allie told Clay and gave him a warning look. Her eyes darkened to steel as she stood her ground. She continued, speaking to the boy. “You’ll have to ask your mother, though.”

“Good,” Clay whispered. He felt his face smile. So Allie wasn’t the boy’s mother.

Allie was studying him again now as though she was wondering at his thoughts.

“I—” Clay stammered. He didn’t want her to know what he’d been thinking. She saw too much. He could tell by the questions shimmering in her eyes. He’d never been able to hide much from her. “The cat needs a good home.”

That wasn’t a lie, Clay assured himself. All those years ago, his father never had said anything about whether one had to always tell the entire truth.

“Everyone needs a home,” Clay added to give more weight to his earlier words.

The pink on Allie’s cheeks flashed red. “Are you saying we did wrong by you? We gave you a home as long as we could.”

“I just meant the cat,” Clay said gently. He was glad he hadn’t made the mistake of thinking the color on her face came from warm memories of him.

“Oh,” Allie said.

Clay turned so he didn’t see her. He’d give her privacy if that’s what she wanted. Everyone was silent.

“The kitty has too many bones,” the boy finally said as he looked up at Clay.

Allie bent down, obviously relieved to have a change in the conversation. “The poor thing’s half-starved and is going to deliver a full litter any day now.” Allie glared at Clay. “Don’t you feed her?”

“She hitched a ride with me—that’s all,” he protested. “Someone abandoned her and no one would take her in. I did what I could for her. I bought some packets of coffee creamer at the gas station and fed her.”

“Creamer?” Allie raised her eyebrow in question. “That’s not enough.”

“It was the middle of the night and I wasn’t near any four-star restaurants. It was creamer, candy bars or coffee. Not much choice,” Clay said. “And I scooped up a lot of packets.”

The owner of the station had charged him plenty for the creamer, too. They’d found a glass ashtray and opened the packets of liquid and poured them into that. The cat had licked up three servings. Clay had to buy the ashtray, too, because the station owner said he couldn’t sell it after it had been licked by a cat.

“I think she’s still hungry, Auntie,” the boy said.

“Speaking of hungry,” Mr. Nelson said then, looking more like the man he had been when Clay knew him. “I’m sure we could all eat something.” He glanced over at Clay. “How about we have some eggs and bacon to go with that toast?”

Clay nodded. “I’d like that if Allie’s willing.” He didn’t want to press things with her. “Just this once. It was a long, cold drive over here.”

“I’m glad you came,” Mr. Nelson admitted.

It was quiet until Allie spoke to the boy. “Now, you go take the cat into the back bedroom and get dressed. There are some of your clothes in the closet hanging on the short bar. I think the blue shirt is there. Then get some of those old towels that Grandpa keeps in the bottom drawer of his dresser. The ones he uses to shine his Sunday shoes. They’ll make a nice soft bed for the mama cat.”

“But,” Mr. Nelson protested, “my shoes—”

“I’ll get you some other rags,” Allie told her father. “We have plenty of old towels out in the bunkhouse. I just need to cut them up.”

Mr. Nelson shrugged. “Well, okay then.”

The little boy eagerly started walking toward the hallway.

Clay felt happy just watching him.

* * *

Allie waited until she heard Jeremy open the door to the back bedroom. Then she turned to Clay. She saw he had taken his hat off, but she refused to be distracted by the directness of his gaze.

“We try not to upset Jeremy,” Allie told him. She hated to have to reveal all their family secrets, but she could see Clay was curious, and she didn’t want him to start asking questions. “Jeremy’s mother has just started letting him visit here by himself now. We don’t want anything to stop that.”

Allie watched Clay as he nodded slowly. The warm kitchen air had returned the color to his skin, but Allie noticed lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there when she used to know him.

“The boy’s mother?” Clay asked. “She’s a friend of yours?”

Allie blinked. “I never really thought about it. She’s more—that is, I only knew Hannah because of Mark. They were both ahead of me in school—you know how it is. She and I didn’t know each other really. But she grew up around here, too.”

Clay had been her best friend back then. Not that he’d known it. Mark was gone so much, though, with Hannah, and the ranch had been lonely. Clay had actually been a good companion to her because he liked the horses, too. At least, she had always thought that was why they got along so well.

Her father grunted then. “Jeremy’s mother is Mark’s old girlfriend. The only one he’s ever had.”

Allie saw the truth dawning in Clay’s eyes.

She nodded. “Hannah Stelling.”

Clay was silent for a bit before speaking. “Jeremy is Mark’s son?”

Allie nodded.

“Does he know?” Clay asked.

“We thought Hannah should be the one to tell him,” Allie said. “And all she ever says is that Mark broke up with her and that’s that. Case closed.”

“But she’s the one who broke up with him,” Clay protested. “And Mark didn’t say she was pregnant. I’m sure he would have mentioned that if he had known. He was just mad she had given him an ultimatum—marriage or nothing. That’s why we went out that night. My birthday wasn’t until the next day, but it was still a good excuse to have a beer and let off some steam.”

“There was no good excuse for the two of you to have a beer,” Allie said primly. “Neither one of you was of age.” She had preached that to her brother until she ran out of breath. She saw now that she should have included Clay in her instructions.

“You got the beer?” her father asked then, more eager than Allie would have expected since he never wanted to talk about where the liquor came from on that night. She always thought he felt guilty for not cautioning them about how strong alcohol could affect them.

Clay shook his head. “Mark had it. He gave me one bottle and kept the other.”

“It wasn’t just the beer,” Allie said, her eyes pointed to Clay. “It was that tequila, and we all know you had to be the one getting that.”

“Why do you say that?” Clay asked incredulously.

Allie bristled. She didn’t know why he couldn’t just admit what he had done. “It’s obvious. Mark had no way to get tequila. There wasn’t a gas station around here that carried it. I checked. Besides, you have your ways. You probably learned all about how to get liquor when you were a kid in the big city.”

It was the same place he’d learned all about girls, she thought. Mark had warned her that Clay thought nothing of kissing girls and so she should be careful around him. Unfortunately, her brother’s warning had only made her more fascinated with Clay.

“Because I was a foster kid?” he asked, the edge to his voice making Allie feel a little nervous. “Is that what you mean? That I automatically break the law because I’m a foster kid?”

“It’s not just that, but you have to admit—” she began.

“No, I don’t,” Clay interrupted. “I might have grown up rough, but I never was much on drinking. I never bought any alcohol. I wasn’t of age, and I wasn’t about to lie when someone asked if I was legal.”

Allie paused and forced herself to swallow the accusations she was going to make. Clay had a point. She knew he wouldn’t stand there and lie to a clerk in a liquor store. She had always figured that the only reason he had not told the truth about the robbery at his trial was because he didn’t want to go to prison. She did not understand why he would not admit it now, though.

“It doesn’t matter where the alcohol came from,” her father said with enough force to his voice to remind Allie of what was important.

“The real problem was Hannah breaking up with Mark,” Clay added. “That’s all he could talk about. She asked him to go for a drive at noon and told him it was over unless they got married.”

“He should have known Hannah wasn’t really breaking up with him,” Allie said. “They’d been dating forever. She didn’t tell him she was pregnant because she wanted him to marry her for love and not feel like he’d been trapped. But she wasn’t leaving him. If you hadn’t been there to egg Mark on, he would have eventually come around and seen how things were.”

“But she didn’t say any of that,” Clay protested. “What was he to think?”

“Most men don’t think,” she said, not expecting the bitterness she heard in her voice. She was disappointed by more than what had happened with Hannah and Mark. Clay had thrown away their chances, too. “That’s the problem.”

“Now, Allie,” her father protested.

She lifted her chin. “Well, it’s true. Men do what they want and don’t even always tell you what happened. They just let the pieces fall anywhere.”

Allie let her words hang in the air. She wasn’t going to take them back. She could see Clay measuring her words, like he wasn’t sure what she meant. She saw the muscles tighten along his jaw, and she knew he had decided something.

“You’re talking about me now, aren’t you?” he said, no longer looking puzzled.

She didn’t answer. As strong as her memories of him were, she had no right to question him. There had been no hint of romance in his manner toward her that time so long ago. He’d never even tried to kiss her, not even when she had bought tube after tube of lip gloss with enticing names like Sweet Pink and Red Passion. That should show her what Clay thought of her and kissing.

“I don’t lie, and I wasn’t letting anyone down,” Clay finally said. “That night with Mark—no one was counting on me. There was no one to let down.”

Yes, there was, Allie thought as she stepped back toward the kitchen sink. There was me.

She wasn’t ready for all of this. She’d thought she’d never see Clay again. But he was wrong that no one had counted on him back then. Her father had still been drinking his whiskey, bottle after bottle of the same, and she used to tell herself Clay would know what to do if she needed help. Her mother had been the one to handle her father when he was drunk, and once she was gone, Allie never knew how to keep him steady. Mark refused to think there was a problem with their father, and so she knew it would be up to her to do something, if her father went out of control. That’s why she’d been glad Clay was with them.

She’d worried all the time back then until one night when she’d seen Clay standing outside the bunkhouse looking up at her window. His gaze had seemed protective, and she told herself he was looking out for her a little bit. She knew he would come if she needed help. That’s when she’d started her search for the perfect irresistible lip gloss. She had barely gotten used to the flutter of her feelings for him and then he was gone.

Deep silence filled the room.

Finally Allie turned around and spoke. She didn’t look up, but she knew Clay would understand she was speaking to him. Those long-ago feelings were not important. She needed to help her family now, and she couldn’t do that by mooning over Clay. “Hannah only took Jeremy to see Mark once a long time ago. Jeremy was scared of the coma, and so now she leaves him here with Dad when she goes. Jeremy doesn’t know who his father is.”

“You haven’t told the boy?” Clay asked.

Allie shook her head. So many things had been left undone. “He hasn’t really asked us. I think Hannah just told him his father was gone. Jeremy seems too young to care much.”

“He’s not too young,” Clay said.

“I suppose not,” Allie said. “I’ve wondered what he thinks about having a grandfather and an aunt, but no father.”

“I wish there was something I could do,” Clay said.

“Thanks,” Allie said. “But in the end, it’s not your problem. You’re free now and Mark’s stuck in that nursing home.”

“Now, Allie,” her father interrupted her. “Clay did his time in prison.”

“Not all of it,” Allie said. “He shouldn’t be out yet. I’ve kept track. If the parole board hadn’t sent him here, he’d be serving two more years.”

She had planned to send him a few hundred dollars just before he was set for release. She hadn’t wanted to think he might be hungry. And if it was anonymous, no one had to know.

“I got him paroled early,” her father replied.

Allie forgot the mellow kindness she’d been feeling and turned to look at her father in shock. “You did what?”

“It’s called victim reparations. I called up the parole board and said we needed help on the ranch. They were reluctant, but I said there was no one here to work since Mark wasn’t able and I asked them to send Clay. I didn’t want to mention Mark’s recovery. I figured it was best to keep it simple.”

Allie continued to stare at her father. “Is that legal? You telling them to send him like that?”

She looked at Clay and saw him wince.

“I am okay with it,” Clay said. “Especially now that I know about Mark.”

“But he’s the reason Mark is hurt.” Allie stared at her father, willing him to meet her gaze. Everyone was forgetting what was important. “Clay should go back and finish his time. I can’t believe you asked them to release him.”

She’d been prepared to accept that Clay was sorry if he was getting paroled because the authorities thought he’d done enough time. But if her father had been the one to suggest it, that changed everything. No one else necessarily thought the time was sufficient.

Mr. Nelson kept looking at the floor. “What was I supposed to do? Mark was asking for Clay. Besides, I need help with the ranch. It’s falling apart.”

She could see the condition of the ranch for herself. Each month she put what she could into a small savings account so she could save enough for some barn repairs.

“We’ll fix things up around here later,” Allie whispered fiercely. “We’ve got time.”

“No, we don’t,” her father said, and he gave a proud grin. Her mother used to call that her father’s Cheshire cat face. It meant he had done something no one would expect. And, usually, something her mother wouldn’t have approved.

Allie had a bad feeling about this. “What do you mean?”

“I bought some more horses,” her father announced. “Real cheap from a rancher over by Bozeman.”

“You bought—” Allie gasped. She wasn’t sure she had heard him right. “We can’t afford anything. Nothing. You know that. Maybe some chickens.”

Her father snorted. “We need more than chickens to turn this place around. Some prime horseflesh is what will put us back in business.”

“You bought purebred stock?” Allie asked. She didn’t even want to know how much that would cost. They had already squeezed the budget as tight as they could. The reason she wanted to start taking some accounting classes was to help with the ranch records. When Mark had received that scholarship and declared he wanted to be a doctor, she had felt free to stake her claim to the ranch. The horses themselves had lots of details that needed tracking. They’d need to buy more animals eventually, but not yet.

“The bank lent me enough to pay for them,” her father said, a note of satisfaction coming into his voice. “I don’t want Mark to come home and see the corrals empty like they are. We need some horses. They’re being delivered any day now. I’m not quite sure on the time.”

Allie stared at him. She couldn’t breathe thinking about more debt. She could barely pay back what they had now.

“They’re good horses,” her father repeated himself, the dreamy look on his face telling her that he was lost in his own world. “The best bloodlines we can find. It’s a deal. Four horses, three of them mares all set to have colts this spring. One of them is lame, but the sire, who is coming, too, is almost a purebred. At least that’s what I heard. And one of the colts could be a racer. The others might go for range horses when they’ve had a chance to fill out. All of them for five hundred dollars.”

She heard Clay grunt in astonishment, but he didn’t speak.

“That can’t be right,” Allie finally managed to say. Her head was spinning. “That’s way too low. Are the animals sick? Or was it five thousand dollars? Even that’s not enough for that many good horses. Maybe you’ve got the numbers wrong. That happens, you know, when you’ve been—”

Allie stopped. She gave a quick glance over at Clay. This was private family business. She looked back at her father. “You know.”

“I haven’t been drinking,” her father protested, sounding offended. “The man who sold them to me owed me a favor from way back. He’s giving me a special deal.”

“You’re sure?” Allie’s voice sounded distant to her own ears. It took a sharp woman to outwit a drunk. She’d searched the kitchen cupboards for alcohol and hadn’t found anything. She always did that first thing when she got home.

“Of course I’m sure.” Her father glared at her. “I’m going to go back and check on Jeremy.”

Her father turned and went back into the hallway.

It struck Allie that, if it was true that her father hadn’t been drinking, then he had likely been the victim of a scam.

“I need to sit down.” She started to walk over to the kitchen table, planning to pull out one of the chairs. She wished she could remember how her mother had handled things like this.

Allie scarcely noticed the steady arm Clay put around her. Then he lowered her into the chair like she was made of fine bone china. Once she was settled, he bent his head until his mouth was close to her ear.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured.

“Those horses are never coming,” she said, letting her troubles spill out to Clay like she’d done so often. “My father gave someone money, and he’ll never see anything from it.”

“That’s my guess, too,” Clay said.

Then in the distance Allie heard the sound of a heavily weighted truck coming.

She glanced up at Clay. He nodded to show he’d heard it, too.

“If that is them and they’re here, that five hundred is probably only a down payment,” Allie said. “I’ll... We’ll be paying for those horses for the rest of our lives.”

She was still looking at Clay. Suddenly the years fell away and his face seemed the same as it had before. His eyes were the same warm blue. His eyebrow furrowed a little in concern. He looked like nothing was more important at that moment than what she was telling him.

“That’s ranching for you,” he said.

“We’re flat broke,” she told him and then stopped to listen as the truck slowed down at what must have been the cattle guard where their driveway came off the county road. “I don’t even want to look.”

“I’ll see about it,” Clay said as he straightened up.

Allie wondered if there was any possibility that the truck would go by on the gravel road. It was the long way around to the Redfern ranch, but maybe whoever was driving was lost and was just slowing down to ask directions.

She watched Clay. He hadn’t moved from where he stood.

“We haven’t even had breakfast yet,” Allie said.

Clay grunted. “If it is those animals, we’ll need to get them settled first.”

“You’re a good man,” Allie said as she sat there. “I have a little money saved. But not enough to pay standard wages to a ranch hand.”

Clay smiled. “I don’t think you’re supposed to pay me. Free labor for a year. That’s the deal.”

Allie frowned. “We will make some arrangements. You can’t work for free. I won’t let you.”

“It’s fine,” Clay murmured and then added hesitantly, “I think food is included, though. And I’ll starve on toast.”

She grinned. She saw the twinkle in his eyes. “Sorry about this morning. And you will get a full breakfast just as soon as we deal with that truck.”

He smiled back at her, and her day tilted until everything felt balanced in her world again. She wished with a fierce stab of longing that Clay and her brother had stayed in the bunkhouse playing checkers that night.

“My dad’s not really an alcoholic,” she whispered at last. She hoped this was still true. “I wouldn’t want you to think that.”

“It’s not your fault if he is,” Clay said and buttoned his coat.

She shook off her nostalgia. “That’s kind of you to say.”

The truck sounds grew louder.

Maybe it wasn’t all her fault, but Allie knew she’d fallen down on her duty. She had liked the warmth of Clay’s breath on her neck, but there was nothing about this that was going to turn out well. She couldn’t recall a thing her mother had done when her father’s craziness had already happened except for doing all she could to hide everything from the neighbors.

She wondered how they could cope with a bankruptcy. They had fought it off for so long, but she was tired. She really would need to paint the house. She’d always thought white with green trim made a house look prosperous. That might keep the pity from the neighbors down some. Or at least give them some doubt that the gossip was true.

Allie heard a vehicle door slamming outside. Whoever was out there was coming inside. And she wasn’t ready.

She looked up and saw compassion in Clay’s eyes. She might not want him to know her father’s weakness, but it felt good to have someone stand beside her in the troubles of this household.

Allie heard footsteps outside. She needed to remember that her goal these days was to see Mark recovered. Their family had been given a second chance. She wouldn’t see alcohol or bankruptcy or problems from the past take it away from them.

Then her father cleared his throat. She looked over and saw him standing in the shadows of the hallway. His expression was so guilty that she wondered if there might be a bottle of liquor next to him in the coat closet.

“I should have asked you about the horses before I bought them,” her father said.

Allie nodded. “We’ll get by.”

She forced herself to breathe calmly. She was only vaguely aware of the squeeze Clay gave to her shoulder before he moved toward the door. His brow was furrowed. His shoulders were hunched over in that sheepskin coat as though he was still cold even though it was warm in the kitchen.

A loud knock sounded at the kitchen door. Allie was relieved she didn’t need to open the house and let anyone inside. Whoever was outside was going to give her trouble.