Big Sky Country. Linda Miller Lael

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СКАЧАТЬ Jasper curled up in the middle of the floor and dropped into a deep snooze. “Listen, Layne, I just had a call from Shea and—”

      “And she told you she’s being banished to boarding school,” Layne interrupted with a long-suffering sigh.

      “Something like that,” Slade said, turning one of the two folding chairs at his card table around and sitting astraddle of the seat. “What’s going on, Layne?”

      Again, Layne sighed. Slade pictured her shaking back her mane of thick russet hair, which, the last time he’d seen her, had just brushed her shoulders. “She’s—rebellious. I’m worried about her, Slade. Some of her friends have gotten themselves into real trouble.”

      “And in every case it started with a tattoo?” Slade teased, keeping his tone light, though he was concerned about Shea, too, of course.

      “Bentley and I have tried everything,” Layne said, quietly earnest and, unless Slade missed his guess, somewhat desperate, too. “Family counseling. Long heart-to-hearts at the kitchen table. Even a trip to Europe during her spring break. Shea closes herself off from me—I can’t seem to get through to her.”

      “And you think boarding school is a solution?”

      “I’m willing to try almost anything at this point,” Layne admitted sadly. “Short of putting her up for adoption or just plain wringing her stubborn little neck.”

      “She wants to come here, to Parable.”

      “I’m not surprised,” Layne answered. “You’re in Parable, after all. And I suspect that’s the crux of the problem—right now, you’re still her stepfather. She can pretend that you and I will reconcile at some point. Once Bentley and I get married...”

      Slade closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, when her words fell away. “I see what you mean. But don’t you think sending her off to boarding school is a little drastic? Where is this place, anyway?”

      “Havenwood is just south of Sacramento,” Layne replied quietly. “It has a wonderful reputation for getting troubled kids back on track, and the level of education is unequalled.”

      “What makes you think Shea’s going to cooperate, Layne?”

      “I’m not sure she will,” Layne said. “But I’m out of choices. I love my daughter, Slade, but I also love Bentley. I’m still relatively young and I want another shot at happiness. Is that wrong?”

      “Of course it isn’t wrong,” Slade said.

      “If you have a suggestion, cowboy,” Layne told him, “I’d love to hear it.”

      That was when he said it, the thing he hadn’t planned to say. The impossible, crazy thing he had no right to say.

      “You could send her here, to Parable, just for the summer.”

      There was a brief and, Slade thought, hopeful silence.

      “You mean it?” Layne asked, very tentatively, after a few moments.

      “Yes,” Slade said, as surprised as anybody. “I mean it.”

      All the while, his brain was reeling. Where was he going to put a sixteen-year-old kid? And what if, like Layne, he simply couldn’t get through to Shea? If she got into trouble, it would be his fault.

      “Okay,” Layne said. “Let’s give this a try. If Shea calms down a little after a summer away from home, we can revisit the whole boarding school question in the fall.”

      “Okay,” Slade echoed.

      Layne laughed softly, but there was something broken in the sound. “I wish we could have made it,” she said. “You and me.”

      “Me, too,” Slade said. “But we didn’t.”

      “No,” Layne agreed. “You’re probably the only person on earth I’d trust with my daughter—you know that, don’t you?”

      “Yeah,” he said, his voice gravelly. He was moved, because there was no doubt that Layne was telling the truth: she could count on him and she knew it. “I appreciate that, Layne. It means a lot.”

      There was a brief pause, brimming with all that might have been.

      “I’ll speak to Shea and get back to you so we can agree on the travel arrangements,” Layne said at length. “And, Slade?”

      He waited.

      “Thanks,” Layne finished.

      They said their goodbyes, and Slade hung up.

      “What the hell am I going to do now?” he asked Jasper, who had surfaced, yawning, from his nap just as Slade replaced the phone receiver in its cradle.

      Jasper gazed quizzically up at him, probably wondering what kind of yahoo asked a dog a question right out loud and half expected to get an answer.

      He shoved a hand through his hair, heaved a sigh. Headed for the dinky bathroom, with its dinky shower stall and dinky tub. He started water running in the shower and fetched a change of clothes from the bureau in his bedroom.

      Jasper stayed right on his heels the whole time, sat right there in the bathroom doorway while Slade stripped, climbed into the shower and scrubbed until he felt refreshed.

      After that, he dried off with a ratty-looking towel—he’d need to get new towels before Shea arrived, for sure. Hell, he’d need a new house.

      Fifteen minutes later, he and Jasper were in the truck and headed for Whisper Creek Ranch.

      There was still a lot of daylight left, but the sky was turning a pinkish orange where it rimmed the distant mountains, soon to be followed by a lavender twilight and then moon-laced darkness.

      If he wanted a good look at the ranch that was legally half his, he’d have to wait for tomorrow, but at least he could get Jasper back home, where he belonged.

      The Carmody house was a long, rambling structure, two stories high. The lawn looked one hell of a lot better than Slade’s own, and some kind of fluffy flower grew everywhere, in a profusion of pink and red, yellow and white.

      He stopped his truck in front of the house, and before he shut off the engine, Hutch came out of the front door and stood on the broad porch, looking unfriendly.

      Slade got out of the pickup. “I brought your dog back,” he said.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      JASPER HUNKERED DOWN in the passenger seat of Slade’s truck, suddenly as unwieldy as a feed sack stuffed with scrap iron.

      Hutch, an incongruous sight in that yard full of flowers, looked mildly amused as he came through the gate in the picket fence to watch the struggle.

      “I’ll tell you something about that dog,” Hutch offered after a few beats. “He can be real cussed.”

      “Ya СКАЧАТЬ