A Cowboy at Heart. Roz Fox Denny

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СКАЧАТЬ You don’t understand. My facility’s a haven for street teens. I won’t be accepting young children. And special-needs kids…well, absolutely no way,” Linc added, frowning at the wheelchair.

      “You’re the one who don’t get it, mister. The kids are wards of the court. Oasis left the lot of ’em to you. Good luck findin’ houseparents. We’re the third set in less than a year. Too far from town for most folks.” George took his foot off the brake and the old car started to roll.

      Linc latched onto the side mirror. “Hey! Hey, give me ten seconds. Just until I contact my liaison who dealt with Oasis. I’m sure we’ll clear this up. There are probably foster parents in town where Gunderson intended for you to drop the children.”

      “No. But fine, call. Just make it snappy.”

      Linc already had his phone out and was furiously punching in John Montoya’s number. “John, it’s Linc. Yeah, I’ve arrived. What’s the deal with the kids? Three of ’em,” he yelled. “Little ones.” Then, because three sets of wary eyes unnerved him, Linc turned his back to the children and lowered his voice. “No, you most certainly did not mention them to me, John.” Hearing his voice rise, Linc took a deep breath. “I don’t just sound pissed off, pal. I am pissed off. You know this place is for teens. What am I supposed to do with three little kids?” His frustration peaked. Linc stood his dark hair on end by raking one hand through locks that needed more than a trim. “This isn’t funny. How could they—Oasis, or for that matter, you—how could you foist off innocent children? They’re not livestock included in the transfer, for pity’s sake!”

      Linc slammed a fist down on the rusted car trunk. “Kids are not just kids. Okay. Okay, you didn’t know I’d freak out over it. But you haven’t heard the last from me about this, that’s for damned sure!”

      Linc snapped his phone shut, took another deep breath and dredged up a semblance of his old self. “Mr. Tucker, uh…George. Er…Lydia…” Linc’s usual aplomb faltered. “I’m the last guy equipped to deal with small kids. Won’t you please stay? Just until I straighten out this mess with Oasis. Shouldn’t take a day. Two, max.”

      “Forget it,” George snarled. “We stuck it out long enough. As far as my wife’s concerned, four months was too long. They’re yours, with our blessing. Oh, the wife says there’s meat in the freezer. Should last until you can get to town.” With that, the old car rumbled off in a trail of blue smoke.

      Linc felt as near to breaking down as he had since losing Felicity to a life he desperately hoped to change for other teens. Teens! That was the operative term.

      Then, as if his day wasn’t already in the toilet, Linc saw a band of scraggly teens ambling toward him along one side of the rutted lane. Five in all, preceded by a yappy dog of indeterminate origin. This couldn’t be happening! He needed at least two weeks to ready the place for occupation, as John had been well aware. Clearly he’d jumped the gun. John must have contacted his cop friend. How else would these kids know to come all the way out here?

      Linc unleashed a string of colorful curses, which he bit back the instant he caught a huge grin lighting the dirty face of the boy on the porch. Had to be the biter.

      Squeezing his eyes shut, Linc smacked his forehead hard with the heel of one hand. This was definitely not turning out to be his finest hour. What in hell was he supposed to do now?

      A ray of hope glimmered and he snatched up his phone again. The solution was simple, really. Ted Gunderson from Oasis would just have to come and collect these leftover children. Tonight. That was all there was to it.

      CHAPTER TWO

      MIRANDA ADJUSTED her heavy backpack on already aching shoulders. Several miles back, she’d ceased having any feeling in her blistered heels. No matter what negative things people might say about street kids, somewhere around Fresno it became clear to her that they couldn’t be faulted for lack of stamina.

      She, Jenny and her pals had been on the road for more than a week. Sometimes they hitched rides, but because they refused to split up, mostly they relied on shank’s mare, as her daddy used to call hoofing it.

      Eric, Shawn and Greg had started complaining in earnest after the last town disappeared and they’d entered this desolate road. If not for the fact that the nights were pitch-black and cold, Miranda would’ve been content to let the others turn back. She felt most sympathetic toward Jenny, whose thin jacket was no barrier against the weather. Midweek, long-haul truckers they encountered at a rest stop said it was spitting snow atop the Siskiyou mountain pass. Practically overnight, Mount Lassen, visible in the distance, looked like a vanilla ice-cream cone sparkling in weak sunlight.

      “Hey, look over there!” Miranda’s excited voice rose above Shawn’s griping about the driver who’d just passed. “Shh!” Again she tried to compete with Shawn’s swearing and the barking dog. They’d voted to name him Scraps to depict his throwaway status.

      Making little headway, Miranda placed two fingers between her teeth. Her whistle garnered the attention of all but the dog. Sparing the dog a last exasperated glance, Miranda pulled out the battered flyer she’d kept as a guide-post. “I think we’ve found it. The ranch. Doesn’t that house at the end of this lane look like the one pictured here?”

      Scraps scampered on ahead while the road-weary teens circled around Miranda to peer at the badly crumpled paper.

      “It’s about time,” Eric grumbled. “Jenny’s got one sneaker worn all the way through.”

      Shawn, the heftiest of the three boys, rubbed his belly. “I hope they haven’t already eaten. I’m starved.”

      Greg punched his arm. “You’re always starved. You think we didn’t see Randi slip you half a pack of the hot dogs we bummed off those hikers yesterday?”

      The always-hungry boy glanced guiltily at his companions. “I can’t help it that my bones weigh more than your whole body, Greg. We didn’t all have itty-bitty Korean moms. And for all we know, your dad could’ve been a squirt. Not all sailors are bruisers, you know.”

      Miranda uttered a cranky sigh. A guaranteed way to create dissension was for anyone to bring up the shortfalls of a parent. Before starting out, they’d made a pact, agreeing that attacks of this nature were taboo, which had suited Miranda. Eric, who obviously had mixed-race parents, and Greg, who admittedly did, were touchiest. Before Miranda joined their ranks, Greg had confided to the others that his mom had made him learn English and had sent him to California, hoping her great-uncle would help Greg find the sailor who’d left her pregnant and alone in Seoul. But the relative, an elderly man, had passed away. And Greg soon ran out of cash. Alone, he’d had no luck locating the sailor in a grainy snapshot. His only clue other than the photo was the name Gregory Jones, which might or might not have been valid. The navy had a plethora of Gregory and G. Joneses, none of whom claimed to have fathered a child out of wedlock. But thanks to his early experience in Seoul, Greg was adept at street living. Even so, he was defensive as hell about almost everything.

      Shawn, by contrast, was apparently the product of a wealthy but abusive dad and an actress who’d flown the coop. Miranda would have thought he’d be more sympathetic toward poor Greg. Instead, the boys bickered constantly, and she was getting fed up.

      “Guys,” she cautioned, “let’s try and be on our best behavior when we meet the ranch owner. I, for one, am too beat to want him kicking us out of his program.”

      “What do you mean, program?” Eric narrowed СКАЧАТЬ