The Long Road Home. Lynn Patrick

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ tack room. Not to mention what it cost to buy horses and tack. So far, he’d given a couple of lessons, and Logan had taken a few groups out on trail rides. There was a trail ride going out that afternoon, too. It was a start, but he couldn’t afford to put out a couple thousand more dollars until he was sure his business was viable and would bring in a decent amount of income. But if someone was messing with his business...

      “Go ahead, get to work,” he told Logan.

      The kid didn’t wait to get away from him.

      Sam ran a hand through his hair. Someone messing with his business? He didn’t want to believe it. Returning to Sparrow Lake—coming back to his home and his father—had been difficult enough.

      Kids. It had to be kids. A prank that could have turned serious but hadn’t. That was all it had been, what he had to believe.

      He’d just lived a six-month nightmare not of his own doing.

      This was a do-over for him in more than one way.

      He had to make this work.

      * * *

      “HERE’S THE DUDE ranch we were telling you about,” Mom gushed as they passed the Larson farm while driving back from the airport. “Look at those horses!”

      “Wow, nice!” Mia leaned closer to her grandmother in the backseat to glance at a pinto and a sorrel near the fence. “I’ve been riding English so I won’t have any problem. Western is easier.”

      At twelve, Mia was small, though Priscilla wondered if she’d grow much more in the next few years. She seemed to have the same petite frame as her grandmother, along with the thick red hair that seemed to have a life of its own. Though it was pulled back in a ponytail, tendrils kept escaping to curl around Mia’s small freckled face.

      “What do you think, Alyssa?” Mom asked.

      Deeply involved with her cell phone, which had just beeped, the teenager didn’t answer as she texted furiously.

      “Alyssa?” Priscilla prodded, earning only a grunt in reply. “Would you like to visit a dude ranch?”

      Still texting, Alyssa muttered, “Umm, maybe...”

      “Can we do it this afternoon?” asked Mia, sounding enthusiastic.

      Priscilla smiled. “We’ll see. First we need lunch.”

      As Mia went on, explaining tack and boots and other horsey details to her grandmother, Priscilla felt grateful that they’d at least hit a homerun with one of her nieces. She gave the older one another irritable glance from the corner of her eye. In the past two years, a time in which the Wisconsin Ryans had not seen hide nor hair of the New York branch of the family, Alyssa had become a very pretty and stylish young woman. At least Priscilla assumed the girl was stylish with her asymmetrical ombre hairdo—brunette roots lightening outward to blonde. Her makeup looked carefully applied and her black jeggings hugged her slim body. Too bad Alyssa didn’t think a smile would look nice with her ensemble. The teenager seemed rather sullen.

      “About that lunch,” Mom chirped as they neared Sparrow Lake. “We could go to The Corner or there’s a new pizza place that just opened up across town.”

      “Pizza sounds good to me,” said Mia.

      When no comment came from her older granddaughter, Mom tapped her shoulder. “Alyssa?”

      Still no reply. The teenager seemed to be in her own world, one that contained only her and her smartphone, the fancy type with a screen like a small computer tablet.

      Before her mother asked the question again, Priscilla raised her voice. “Alyssa! Excuse me, could you stop texting for a moment?”

      The teenager looked up, brows raised.

      “We’re deciding on what you’d like for lunch,” Priscilla explained.

      Obviously having tuned out the conversation, Alyssa said, “Lunch? I don’t know...Thai...or sushi is okay.”

      She should have guessed. “Sparrow Lake doesn’t have a Thai restaurant.” Though they did have a Chinese take-out place downtown. Priscilla didn’t think that would appeal to her niece, though. Too common. “Sorry, no sushi place either. How about an artisan cheese board with crackers and gourmet salad at a swanky establishment?” She could whip up something with escarole and nuts and dried cherries.

      “The Main Street Cheese Shoppe?” said Mom. “I didn’t want to put you out, but that would be nice.”

      “I like cheese,” Mia agreed with a grin.

      “Alyssa?” said Priscilla loudly.

      “Cheese is fine,” Alyssa replied.

      Though the girl didn’t look up from her phone, which had beeped again.

      In the rearview mirror, Priscilla saw Mom frown at Alyssa before turning to her younger sister. “Is something important going on? I mean, with your sister’s phone messages?”

      “Nah, just the usual stupid gossip with her friends.” Mia gave a heavy, put-out sigh. “Alyssa’s addicted to her phone. She can’t even turn it off when she sleeps.”

      “Oh, my,” Mom murmured.

      Mia slipped a similar phone out of her pocket and showed it to her grandmother. “I have one, too, but I don’t have my face glued to it all the time.”

      “That’s because you have no friends,” Alyssa told her sister with a withering glance.

      She did listen sometimes, Priscilla guessed.

      “Hey, take that back!” Mia leaned forward. “I have friends!”

      “Just a few nerdy losers.”

      “They aren’t losers!”

      Mia looked as if she wanted to punch her sister, so Priscilla was happy that Mom grabbed the younger girl’s shoulder and drew her back. “Now, now. I’m sure your friends are quite nice.”

      “I just don’t want to text all the time,” grumbled Mia as they pulled up in front of the cheese store. “I like to play games. Have you seen Furious Falcons Nightmare?”

      “I have to admit I haven’t even seen Furious Falcons,” Mom told her.

      As they entered the cheese store, Mia was happily explaining the ups and downs of the game to her grandmother.

      Now if they could only get Alyssa halfway interested in something other than texting her friends.

      They had barely claimed a table inside when Priscilla noticed Will Berger on the walkway outside the shop. In his early seventies, he had emphysema and so was pushing a portable oxygen tank on wheels. At the moment, he’d stopped and was swaying slightly as if he was having difficulties.

      “Uh-oh, I think he’s got a problem breathing,” Priscilla muttered and raced outside. “Mr. Berger, are you okay?”

      The СКАЧАТЬ