Easter In Dry Creek

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.

Chapter Four (#ulink_19a2a139-df30-5dc8-a75f-e5a51e0f4ee9)

Clay squinted as he opened the door. A sturdy middle-aged man, with a Stetson pushed down on his head and a red plaid shirt showing through the opening in his coat, waited on the steps with a clipboard in his gloved hands. Deep footprints showed where he had just walked through the snow. After studying the indentations, Clay guessed the snowfall was close to six inches deep. The man’s black jacket had a logo and Farm Transportation embroidered on the front pocket, along with the name Stan Wilcox.

“This the Nelson place?” the man asked. His breath swirled up in a thin white puff. Even though the storm had stopped, temperatures had not risen yet.

“Yes,” Clay admitted.

The man frowned and looked at his paper. “Mr. Floyd Nelson.”

Clay realized with a start that he had never known Mr. Nelson’s given name. He didn’t remember anyone ever using it. “I’ll get him for you. Stan, is it?”

The man nodded.

“I’m Clay West.” He hesitated. “New ranch hand here.”

“Good to meet you,” Stan said.

Clay turned around then and saw that Allie and her father were walking toward the door. Clay opened the screen door for Stan. “Might as well come inside for a bit.”

The other man entered and stood on the rug beside the open door. “We’ll need to start unloading. I just wanted to check that we were at the right place and to find out where you want the shipment let down.”

“Is it the horses?” Mr. Nelson asked as he walked closer.

“Yes, sir,” Stan said. “This is them.”

“I’ve been waiting.” Mr. Nelson’s face was as excited as a kid’s on Christmas morning.

Clay smiled. The older man might be making a mistake, but he was at least enjoying it. Clay had to admit he wouldn’t mind putting his hands on a horse again, either.

“I’ll need you to sign.” Stan held his clipboard out to Mr. Nelson.

Clay turned then and saw Allie walking over to the trucker and squaring her shoulders. He wondered for a moment about what she was doing.

“I’m afraid there is a change of plans,” Allie said. Her voice was steady. “We need to send the horses back for a refund. I need to talk with my father some more, but we can’t sign.”

The man started to laugh.

“Someone will pay you for your delivery, of course,” she added with a stiff smile. “Including the return trip. We honor our commitments as best we can.”

Clay was proud of Allie. She’d obviously worked hard over the years to learn to speak her mind with confidence. He remembered how she’d hated to disappoint anyone and wouldn’t confront them to say what she thought needed to be done.

Stan’s laugh finally slowed to a rumble, and his eyes were kind. “That’s not the problem, ma’am. These animals, though—there ain’t no back to send them to. The man paid us in cash for the delivery, but then he got on a plane for Hawaii. Some messy divorce he’s in. Didn’t care how much money he lost. His ranch sold the day we left. He sent a few more animals over here with us. They were strays no one else wanted. If you don’t want them, either, we’ll have to shoot them.”