A Family for Tyler. Angel Smits
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Название: A Family for Tyler
Автор: Angel Smits
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: A Chair at the Hawkins Table
isbn: 9781472055286
isbn:
“Are you sure you’re okay here?” She tried to see Tyler’s face, see what he was thinking. Was he afraid? Was he comfortable here? Was there something here that had caused him to run away?
None of those answers stared back at her.
“She’s waiting for me,” he informed Emily and finally pulled his arm free. He shoved the door open with his tennis shoe and bounded out. “I’m here,” he called just before he slammed the door closed.
Emily took a deep breath, wishing desperately that she’d never decided to do this. She should have kept it all in her courtroom, where she was safe behind her robes, behind the bench, across the room from any of the participants.
Her palms grew damp, and she rubbed them around the warm steering wheel once, twice, then before she could shove the car into Reverse and turn tail and run, she opened the door and climbed out. She refrained from slamming it as Tyler had done, though barely.
The hot Texas sun beat down on her head, but she stood up straighter and shoved her purse over her shoulder. She curled her hands around the strap as if it were a lifeline and stepped forward.
The woman knelt in front of Tyler, her hands on his shoulders. She was speaking, but for some reason, Emily couldn’t hear her words. Maybe it was the roaring in her ears. She took a deep breath, noting the relaxing scents of the fields and heat. She could do this.
She stepped forward, moving through the open gate. She extended her hand just as the woman started to speak to Tyler again.
“He was walking into town,” Emily interrupted.
The blonde’s jaw dropped open. “That’s over ten miles.”
“He didn’t get there.” Anger and a dose of panic rippled through Emily. She should have trusted her gut. She should have sent this boy to social services. She should have—
“Tyler, you scared us half to death.” The woman had none of Emily’s hesitation in grabbing him and hugging him tight.
“Sorry,” he mumbled from inside her tight embrace.
She finally let him go and took his hand in hers. “Let’s go call Wyatt.”
“He’s not here?” Emily felt her brow rise.
“No.” The woman turned back with her own frown. “He’s been out searching for this one. I hope his cell works in the gullies and canyons he’s checking.”
“Oh.” Emily felt silly. Her suspicious nature always made her feel like a shrew. “I’ll... I’ll get his backpack from the car.”
“Oh, thank you. Please. Where are my manners? I’m Addie Hawkins. Wyatt’s my brother. Guessing by the time, you’re Judge Ivers.”
Relief slid through Emily and she forced herself to ignore it. This was his sister...not—she forced her mind to focus on her steps and the task of getting the backpack—not a girlfriend.
The beaten backpack was heavy in Emily’s hand. What had he packed? She pulled it out and walked around the car.
A thundering roar grew in the distance, freezing Emily in place, stealing the words she was about to say. She’d heard that sound before, a long time ago—a lifetime ago. She shook her head, looking up at the sky, hoping to see a building thunderhead somewhere, anywhere. Clear blue skies stared back at her.
Her heart pounded in her chest. The damp that had been in her palms spread throughout her body. Her breath froze.
Emily watched the solitary rider appear on the horizon. Wyatt sat atop a wide-shouldered horse whose mane and tail were silhouetted in the afternoon light. He was riding quickly toward the house, and she nearly expected his hat to fly off like in all those old cowboy movies she’d watched as a kid.
He drew closer, the shadows let go and she could see the details of him. He was dressed the part of a cowboy, unlike the man who had appeared in her courtroom just days ago wearing an expensive tailored suit. No, this cowboy wore a blue shirt that contrasted with his worn Levi’s. Costly but worn Ropers were snug in the stirrups.
She’d just turned her head, catching a glimpse of white, when the great white horse rumbled into the yard, clearing the low fence with ease. He landed with a heavy thud just inches from her.
Wyatt jumped down from the horse’s back, landing with a similar thud.
“Where is he?” Wyatt barked out the words as he swung out of the saddle.
She looked up at him. Sweat glistened on his face and he yanked the Stetson off and swiped his brow with his sleeve.
“In the house.”
Before she could say or ask anything more, he tossed the reins to her and loped across the lawn.
She caught the reins—a habit she’d thought long forgotten. He’d made the assumption, like everyone did, that people who lived in Texas knew horses. She did, of course, but she hated his assumption.
She stood there a long, silent moment.
Big. Huge. Brown eyes stared at her. She could see the horse’s long lashes as it blinked at her. It—she glanced around and amended—he.
The horse tossed his head and whickered before taking a step forward. Emily froze and dropped the reins. The well-trained horse didn’t move, but Emily saw a whole new set of images. Of another horse. One not as big, but whose eyes were just as beautiful and soulful. Whose coat was just as pure white.
“Sugar,” she whispered. But Sugar was gone. Long gone.
The horse’s big chocolate eyes stared at her, slowly batting its big eyelashes. The horse took a step toward her, and Emily crumbled into the darkness.
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