Easter In Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

now.

      “They’re good horses,” her father repeated himself, the dreamy look on his face telling her that he was lost in his own world. “The best bloodlines we can find. It’s a deal. Four horses, three of them mares all set to have colts this spring. One of them is lame, but the sire, who is coming, too, is almost a purebred. At least that’s what I heard. And one of the colts could be a racer. The others might go for range horses when they’ve had a chance to fill out. All of them for five hundred dollars.”

      She heard Clay grunt in astonishment, but he didn’t speak.

      “That can’t be right,” Allie finally managed to say. Her head was spinning. “That’s way too low. Are the animals sick? Or was it five thousand dollars? Even that’s not enough for that many good horses. Maybe you’ve got the numbers wrong. That happens, you know, when you’ve been—”

      Allie stopped. She gave a quick glance over at Clay. This was private family business. She looked back at her father. “You know.”

      “I haven’t been drinking,” her father protested, sounding offended. “The man who sold them to me owed me a favor from way back. He’s giving me a special deal.”

      “You’re sure?” Allie’s voice sounded distant to her own ears. It took a sharp woman to outwit a drunk. She’d searched the kitchen cupboards for alcohol and hadn’t found anything. She always did that first thing when she got home.

      “Of course I’m sure.” Her father glared at her. “I’m going to go back and check on Jeremy.”

      Her father turned and went back into the hallway.

      It struck Allie that, if it was true that her father hadn’t been drinking, then he had likely been the victim of a scam.

      “I need to sit down.” She started to walk over to the kitchen table, planning to pull out one of the chairs. She wished she could remember how her mother had handled things like this.

      Allie scarcely noticed the steady arm Clay put around her. Then he lowered her into the chair like she was made of fine bone china. Once she was settled, he bent his head until his mouth was close to her ear.

      “It’ll be okay,” he murmured.

      “Those horses are never coming,” she said, letting her troubles spill out to Clay like she’d done so often. “My father gave someone money, and he’ll never see anything from it.”

      “That’s my guess, too,” Clay said.

      Then in the distance Allie heard the sound of a heavily weighted truck coming.

      She glanced up at Clay. He nodded to show he’d heard it, too.

      “If that is them and they’re here, that five hundred is probably only a down payment,” Allie said. “I’ll... We’ll be paying for those horses for the rest of our lives.”

      She was still looking at Clay. Suddenly the years fell away and his face seemed the same as it had before. His eyes were the same warm blue. His eyebrow furrowed a little in concern. He looked like nothing was more important at that moment than what she was telling him.

      “That’s ranching for you,” he said.

      “We’re flat broke,” she told him and then stopped to listen as the truck slowed down at what must have been the cattle guard where their driveway came off the county road. “I don’t even want to look.”

      “I’ll see about it,” Clay said as he straightened up.

      Allie wondered if there was any possibility that the truck would go by on the gravel road. It was the long way around to the Redfern ranch, but maybe whoever was driving was lost and was just slowing down to ask directions.

      She watched Clay. He hadn’t moved from where he stood.

      “We haven’t even had breakfast yet,” Allie said.

      Clay grunted. “If it is those animals, we’ll need to get them settled first.”

      “You’re a good man,” Allie said as she sat there. “I have a little money saved. But not enough to pay standard wages to a ranch hand.”

      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

      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