Page 10 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

His hand shot out. She was braced when it struck the side of her face, setting off lights behind her eyes. Her head was still clearing when she heard a small voice from somewhere behind her.

“I’m ready to work, Dad. Let’s go.”

Lucas stood in the doorway, wearing his ragged overalls and a straw hat that came down to his eyebrows. How much had he heard? What had he seen?

She knew her boy. Whatever he’d witnessed, he would likely keep it to himself. But the hurt would fester inside him like a wound. And she didn’t know how to protect him from more.

Without a word, Silas ushered Lucas down the steps and around the house.

Moments later they were headed out to the potato field, side by side, both of them carrying buckets.

Silas also carried a shovel. She would have to trust him to take care of the boy.

Silas wasn’t a bad man, but from her childhood, Annabeth remembered the father who’d raised him, a harsh man who drove his son mercilessly.

Silas knew of no other way, she told herself.

Struggling to master her emotions, Annabeth went back into the house. There was no sound from the bedroom. With luck, Ellie would sleep for at least half an hour. That would give her time to burn off her frustration by cleaning the kitchen. She would start with the cupboards, then do the floor.

After filling a pail and getting the mop and scrub brush, she went to work. She’d be tired when she was finished, but she could warm up some stew for lunch. After that, maybe Ellie would settle for making sugar cookies.

By the time she’d finished wiping down the cupboards and scrubbed the floor, Ellie had yet to appear. Maybe it was time to wake her. Otherwise, she might not sleep tonight.

Annabeth dried her hands on her apron and walked down the hall to the bedroom she shared with Silas. The door she’d left ajar was now closed. When she opened it, her heart lurched.

The bed was empty. Ellie was gone.

The coverlet and pillow were cool to the touch. And Ellie’s shoes were missing from the rug. The little scamp must’ve put them on, crept through the parlor while her mother was busy in the kitchen, and slipped outside.

Heart in her throat, Annabeth raced out onto the front porch. Ellie was nowhere in sight. Only after she’d checked the yard and both sides of the house did she realize the dog was missing as well. If Ellie had run away, Freckles would have followed her.

And there was just one place Ellie would want to go.

With her gaze intent on the dusty ground, Annabeth searched until she found the small shoe prints and the fresh dog tracks alongside.

Ellie had ridden in the car enough to know the way to town.

What her young mind wouldn’t understand was the effort it would take to walk there.

And she had no idea of the danger—thorny scrub, coyotes, snakes, even the searing sun.

Annabeth couldn’t be sure how long her daughter had been gone, but the little girl could already be in peril.

Annabeth began to run.

Joseph had spent the better part of an hour with Francine.

They’d seen the very end of the parade and sat on a blanket at the ball field to watch the patriotic program, with its speeches and musical numbers, including an off-key soprano rendition of “America the Beautiful,” a baton twirling demonstration, and a tableau of teenage girls wearing the colors of the flag.

He could imagine what she thought of the small-town production.

But he’d enjoyed her charming laugh, clear and pure, like the tinkle of a glass chime.

He’d treated her to a hot dog for lunch, since the new restaurant had yet to open.

After that, he’d seen her to her door, where she’d promised to let him escort her to the dance.

Now, Joseph had started the Ford and headed for home, planning to spend the afternoon with his father.

This would be a difficult day for Blake, haunted as he was by memories of a time that would never come again.

He seemed to be aging every day, with little interest in anything beyond the mill and the ranch.

Maybe Joseph could draw him into a game of chess, something he’d once enjoyed, or better yet, help him release his grief by talking.

Joseph was grieving, too. Sharing could be a step toward healing.

But he knew better than to expect too much.

Main Street was clogged with traffic—mostly families who’d come for the parade and program but weren’t staying. Faced with joining the mob of autos, buggies, and wagons, he decided to take the back road, which led east out of town.

Joseph knew the road well. After a few miles, it forked.

One branch kept on east, winding past the dirt farms to the ranches beyond.

That was the road Joseph’s Aunt Kristin took to her medical office in town.

It was also the route most commonly used for late-night moonshine smuggling.

The other branch swung south, all the way to the lumber mill.

The Dollarhides paid for access, along with a crew to keep the surface maintained for the heavy lumber wagons and log trucks that traveled that way.

Today the road was almost empty. The day was clear, the crops still green from the early summer’s rain. A flock of blackbirds rose like a swirling cloud from a corn field and vanished into the sky.

From where the roads forked, Joseph could make out what appeared to be a distant farm—a low house and unpainted barn, some outbuildings, and a windmill. Could that place, or one like it, be where Annabeth was raising his son? Did he have a happy life there?

But that line of thought couldn’t be allowed. Young Lucas was no more his son than he, Joseph, was the son of Mason Dollarhide. It took more than a bloodline to make a man a father. It took years of sacrifice, responsibility, and patience. Even love, the kind of love Blake had given him.

Annabeth’s husband had married her and was raising Lucas as his own. Joseph’s only contribution had happened in a careless moment on a moonlit night. Beyond that, he had no right to the boy.

Lost in thought, he had let the Ford slow. Now he gunned the engine and swung the car onto the south road. Why was he moping about something he could never have? He’d just met a delightful young woman, and he’d be escorting her to the dance tonight. That was something to celebrate.

Joseph had gone another quarter mile when he spotted something on the expanse of scrub land that bordered the road on both sides—a flash of blue, perhaps a hundred yards away.

He braked to a stop. Shading his eyes, he studied it through the open window.

Maybe it was nothing—a bird or a piece of clothing blown off somebody’s wash line.

But his instincts told him he’d be wise to investigate.

He climbed out of the car and started toward it.

He’d covered about half the distance when he heard a dog barking—an urgent, almost frantic sound. Shading his eyes again, he could see the dog in a small clearing—middle-sized, with a shaggy brown-and-white coat. He could make out the spot of blue as well. It didn’t appear to be moving.

Joseph broke into a sprint, dodging clumps of sage, cheat grass, and thistle. A jackrabbit burst out of hiding and bounded away. Through a screen of sagebrush, the blue object had taken the shape of a huddled child.

Seized by dread, Joseph plunged through the brush. Now, half-muffled by the barking dog, he could also hear the sound of sobbing. He broke into a sweat of relief. Thank God!

His throat jerked as he recognized Annabeth’s little girl. She lay on her side in her blue pinafore, her legs drawn up against her body. One shoe was missing, along with its stocking. The other was trailing its laces. Her face was stained with crusted tears and dust.

She was whimpering in pain. As he came closer, Joseph could see why. She’d stumbled into a clump of thistle weeds. One leg and her bare foot were covered with tiny stickers.

As a boy, Joseph had fallen afoul of thistles more than once. The pain was miserable. He muttered a curse, knowing how the poor child must be suffering and how anything he could do for her here was going to hurt worse.

The dog stood guard over her, its lips curled in warning. But when Joseph spoke to it, the shaggy creature seemed to understand that he was here to help. It moved away and sat down nearby, its worried eyes on its young mistress.

“Ellie.” He knelt beside her and spoke softly, not wanting to frighten her. “Do you remember me from town?”

She nodded, grimacing. “I got stickers. They hurt … bad.”

“I know. I’ve had stickers before. I’m here to help if I can. Where’s your mother?”

“Home. I wanted to see the parade. I lost my shoe.” She shifted her leg, bringing a yelp and another surge of tears.

The sun was blistering hot. She was probably dehydrated as well as in pain. “You must be thirsty. Don’t try to move. I’m going to get you some water.”

Joseph kept a canteen in the back of his car. He’d found it and was just closing the trunk when he saw a distant figure racing through the scrub. A woman in a dress and apron, her fair hair fallen loose. That would be the mother. His pulse quickened. Annabeth.

The dog began to bark again as Joseph knelt and helped the little girl drink. She gulped the water. “Careful, not too much at first,” he murmured, willing himself not to think about the woman who would soon be here. “Your mother’s coming, Ellie. You’ll be all right.”

Annabeth’s pulse raced with her feet as she followed the sound of barking. Thorns and thistles, grown hip high, raked her arms and tore at her skirt. Heedless, she plunged ahead. Nothing mattered but finding Ellie and getting her safely home.