Wild Horses

Mickey held her breath. “Well?” she challenged.

Adam tipped the glass to another angle, watching the changing refraction. “Enoch wouldn’t sell. Some fancy lawyer came to the Bahamas to try to talk him into it. Enoch laughed in his face.”

Relief swept through her. “Caro always said Enoch was his own man.”

Adam’s gaze shifted to her eyes again. “He turned down a hell of a lot of money.”

“So did Carolyn. So did most of the ranchers. It takes character to hold out against greed.”

“Does it?” There was mockery in his voice. “With Enoch, all it took was cussedness.”

Mickey looked at him questioningly.

“He knew he was dying,” Adam said. “He said, ‘This sonuvva bitch says I’ll be rich. What good’s money gonna do me? Buy me a gold coffin? Screw it.’”

The humor was dark, but Mickey smiled dutifully. “Good for him. Some men might find it tempting, to be rich for even a little while.”

Adam shook his head. “He didn’t like anything about the scheme.”

“We didn’t either. We’ve got a way of life here. Fabian threatened it.”

“You’re in favor of preservation?” Adam raised an eyebrow as if doubtful. “Protecting nature?”

“Yes, and so is Carolyn,” she insisted. “She and the others worked hard for it. She’ll be grateful to know Enoch helped.”

“Grateful?” he echoed. “He didn’t do it to help. He did it because he felt like doing it.”

Bridget swept in, carrying plates of sauerbraten, dumplings and homemade applesauce. “Save room for dessert,” she said cheerfully to Adam. “I made my special German chocolate cake.”

He smiled at her, and Bridget beamed at him as indulgently as a fond aunt. Mickey shot Bridget a warning look that said You and I are going to have a serious talk. But Bridget didn’t notice.

Gamely, Mickey raised her glass in a toast. “Here’s to Enoch, for helping to protect the Hill Country, whatever his reasons.”

“I’ll drink to Enoch,” he said, clicking his glass against hers. He did not mention the Hill Country.

They each sipped. He said, “You’re very…close to Carolyn and Vern.”

Good Lord, had Bridget talked about that, too? “Yes. I guess I am.”

“Especially Carolyn.”

Mickey felt unsettled by this turn in the conversation. “Well, it’s Carolyn I work for,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“Vern stays busy at the courthouse?”

“Very busy. He’s the only justice of the peace in the county.”

Adam gave a wry smile. He had a good smile, too good. It did odd, tickly things to the pit of her stomach. “I thought a justice of the peace was just a guy who could marry people.”

Mickey fought to ignore the tickle. “No. He handles civil and criminal cases and small-claims court. And works with juveniles. He’s got a lot of duties.”

“So Carolyn runs the ranch.”

“Yes.” Mickey pushed at the applesauce with her spoon. “But let’s talk about you. How did you come to know Enoch?”

“Let’s save that for later,” he said. “I’m staying in Carolyn’s house, enjoying her hospitality. I’d like to know more about her. She’s run this place a long time?”

Mickey’s guard went up. “Yes,” she said, not elaborating.

“How long?” he persisted.

“She inherited it from her mother. Almost twenty years ago.”

“She’s lived her whole life here?”

“Yes,” was all Mickey would say.

But Adam wasn’t put off by short answers. He pressed on. “Carolyn had a sister. She married a neighbor, J. T. McKinney. But she’s been dead for years, hasn’t she?”

“Yes.” Mickey didn’t know where these questions were leading, but they made her nervous.

“What happened to Carolyn’s father?”

Mickey’s body tensed. “He—deserted his family. The marriage was never very stable. One day he just disappeared. I don’t feel comfortable talking about it.”

Adam took another drink of wine. “It’s not easy for a man to disappear completely. Does she even know if he’s alive?”

Mickey squared her shoulders combatively. “She got word five years ago that he’d died in Canada. Now let’s drop the subject. Please.”

“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “We’ll talk about you. How long have you worked here?”

“Nine years,” she said. “I sort of ‘interned’ here for two years while I finished high school. I started right after Beverly went to Denver.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Beverly’s an only child. You must have become a sort of substitute daughter.”

Mickey blinked in displeasure. “I’m an employee, that’s all.”

This was not the truth, but Mickey would be damned before she told him any more. Mickey and Carolyn had filled painful emotional gaps in each other’s lives, and there was more than affection between them. There was love and the truest friendship Mickey had ever known.

“I didn’t mean you replaced her daughter.” Adam shrugged. “It just seems you’re more like one of the family. What about your own family? Where are they?”

“I have no family.” She said it sharply.

Suddenly his expression, so unreadable before, became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. Your parents are dead?”

“My mother died when I was sixteen.” Mickey said it with such acrimony that she hoped it would stop his questions.

But he nodded, almost sadly. He had an unexpected gift for seeming concerned. “That’s a hard age to lose a parent. And your father?”