Page 11 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

Looking over the screen of brush, toward the road, she could see a flash of red.

As she came closer, it became a Ford Model A.

Anxiety tightened a knot in her chest. She knew who had a car like that, and she knew he lived nearby.

It had to be Joseph. But right now even that wasn’t her first concern.

She had to get to her daughter, and it could be that Joseph had found her.

The dog came through the thicket, his shaggy coat matted with burrs. Whining and tugging at her skirt, he pulled her past the brush into a small clearing. There, she saw Joseph supporting Ellie with one arm while she sipped water from a canteen.

“Ellie, what—?”

The words died in her throat as she saw her daughter’s leg and her bare foot, the flesh already inflamed.

“Mama.” Ellie turned a tear-stained face toward her. “I’ve got stickers.”

Annabeth dropped to her knees beside the little girl. As a child, she’d gotten a few thistle spines in her legs, but this was the worst she’d ever seen.

“Don’t be scared, love,” she said. “I know it hurts. We just have to find a way to get them out and get you home.”

“I found her like this a few minutes ago,” Joseph said. “When I got stickers as a boy, my mother used to soak me in Epsom salts and pick them out with tweezers. But I don’t know how you’re going to carry her home without hurting her.”

Strange, the two of them talking face-to-face like this. Even after so many years it felt natural. But right now that wasn’t important. Annabeth had to help her child. She searched her memory.

“I saw my father do this once. If you’ve got a knife, or even a card from a deck, we might be able to scrape some of the spines off with the edge. At least enough to get her home, where I can get them out with tweezers.”

“I’ve got a pocketknife.” Joseph pulled the folded knife out of his pocket and snapped open the blade.

“No!” Ellie shrank away from him. “Don’t let him cut me, Mama.”

“Nobody’s going to cut you, Ellie,” Annabeth said. “We’re just going to scrape some of the stickers off.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Some. But you’re a brave girl.”

“You do it. All right, Mama?”

“All right.” With a silent prayer, Annabeth nodded and took the knife from Joseph. There was no way this wasn’t going to be painful. “My friend here will need to hold you. All right?”

The little girl nodded. Joseph eased her onto his lap and secured her with one arm. “I can tell you’re a brave girl, Ellie,” he said. “But if it hurts too much, or if I hold you too tightly, you say so. Okay?”

“Okay.” At least Ellie seemed to trust him.

As Annabeth wetted the blade and wiped it on her skirt, she struggled to picture how her father had held the card at a square angle and used it like a razor to scrape the spines from her brother’s leg. Her brother had howled with pain, and he’d been older than Ellie. But something had to be done.

Annabeth clasped the handle of the pocketknife and took a deep breath. She would have to be perfectly steady to keep the sharp blade from cutting Ellie’s fragile skin. “Hold her,” she said to Joseph.

At the first stroke of the blade, Ellie sucked in her breath but didn’t cry out.

Perspiration soaked Annabeth’s body as she scraped away at the tiny spines, taking care not to press on the blade.

Some of the looser spines came out. Others were so deeply embedded they would have to be soaked and tweezed.

The dog looked on, whining softly as if feeling his little mistress’s pain. Ellie whimpered but didn’t cry out. Annabeth could hear Joseph singing softly to her as he cradled her against his body.

“This old man, he played one. He played knick knack on my thumb …”

Time seemed to stand still as Annabeth worked.

In reality, only a few minutes passed before she’d covered the surface of Ellie’s leg and foot.

She released a long breath and folded the knife.

“That’s all I can do,” she said. “Now I need to get her home, soak her in a warm bath, and tweeze the rest of the stickers out.”

Joseph passed Ellie into her arms. The little girl finally released her tears. Sobs shook her body. Annabeth held her close, mindful of her leg. “My brave girl,” she whispered.

“My aunt is a doctor,” Joseph said. “Her ranch isn’t far. I can take you there.”

“No!” The word sprang to Annabeth’s lips. “I’m aware of who your aunt is. But I can’t ask you to drive us there. I’ll take care of Ellie at home.”

“But a doctor might have something to help—”

“No. Please don’t ask me to explain.”

He studied her, his expression puzzled, then knowing. “Your husband.” It wasn’t a question.

She looked away, breaking contact with his piercing eyes. “I said, don’t ask me. Silas has his reasons for being the way he is.”

“Fine. But you can’t carry Ellie home in her condition. I’ll drive you.”

Annabeth was about to refuse when she realized he was right. Ellie was in misery, and the farm was more than a mile away. Trying to carry the child, with her leg so sore that she could barely stand to have it touched, would be torture.

Slowly, she nodded. “You’ll let me off where I tell you?”

“Of course. But my God, Annabeth, what kind of—?”

“Not another word.” She cut him off. “Silas is a good man, but you have to know him. If you did, you’d understand.”

They walked to the road, where Joseph had left the car.

He might have carried Ellie, but the little girl’s arms were wrapped so tightly around her mother’s neck that it seemed no power on earth could make her let go.

As he helped them into the car, he saw a tear trickle down Annabeth’s cheek.

He willed his emotions to freeze. Caring about this woman and her children was the most reckless thing he could do.

The dog came trotting out of the brush with the mate to Ellie’s shoe in its mouth. Joseph took the shoe and let the beast jump into the back seat—burrs, dusty paws, and all.

He took the left branch of the road back to the farm. Annabeth sat beside him, silent as she cradled Ellie on her lap. Joseph knew better than to ask her about Lucas or about her marriage. The less he knew, the better. They would not—could not—meet again.

After letting her off at a discreet distance from the house, he cut back by another route and headed for the ranch.

Forcing thoughts of Annabeth and her family to the back of his mind, he imagined the coming dance, whirling Francine around the floor with her lovely face smiling up at him.

His father would be interested in hearing about the charming new schoolteacher.

Nearing home, he checked on the closed sawmill, drove up the switchback road, and parked behind the house. In the parlor, he found his father waiting for him. The expression on his haggard face put Joseph on instant alert.

“What is it, Dad?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

“You tell me,” Blake said. “This morning I got a telephone call from the sheriff in Miles City. He wanted you to know that the thief who stole your briefcase and the money in it has been arrested. You can call him back. But first you owe me an explanation. What in hell’s name is going on?”