Sarah knew her response wasn’t what Beth had hoped for. She was equally sure Kurt had grounded his daughter. Until she heard otherwise, she’d do whatever she could to keep Beth at home.
As calmly as possible, Sarah rinsed out her cup and set it on the drain board.
“You can’t do this to me,” Beth protested. “You’re not my mother.”
Sarah dried her hands on a paper towel. “Do you know where the furniture polish is kept?”
Making a growling sound like a angry bear, Beth threw up her hands. “Okay, you win. We’ll get Dad back here, and he’ll tell you that you’re not in charge of me.” She stormed toward the back door.
Not knowing what the girl was up to, Sarah followed her outside. The border collie she’d seen yesterday met them on the porch, his tail sweeping the air that still smelled of burned steak.
Beth stood in front of a large bronze gong hanging from an overhead beam. Fancy scrollwork made it look as though it had originally come from China.
“Hit this as hard as you can.” The muscle in Beth’s jaw flexed, her eyes narrowed as she handed Sarah the hammer. “He’ll hear it wherever he is. Then you’ll see.”
Using a gong to communicate seemed primitive to Sarah, but she gave it a solid whack. The metal vibrated, sending out waves of sound that echoed inside Sarah’s skull and started the dog howling.
Chapter Four
The sound of the emergency gong rang out over the prairie.
Kurt froze in the saddle. Intended to warn of a grass fire, no one had used that gong in years. Not since his mother had knocked over a kerosene lamp and…
Digging in his heels, he spurred Pepper toward the ranch house. Had Sarah tried to barbecue something on the back porch again? Maybe Beth had been messing around with candles in her room and caught the curtains on fire.
Or maybe a tourist had tossed a cigarette butt out a car window into the drought-dry grass and started what could end in an inferno.
Grimly, he urged his horse to a gallop.
Fire. Always a dangerous threat but more so when you lived far from town with only a few nearby ranchers to help put out the flames.
As his horse raced across the rolling landscape, Kurt searched the horizon for any sign of smoke. Nothing. Not a single puff of smoke in sight.
Nerves bunched his shoulders. He gripped the reins so hard they nearly cut through his riding gloves into his palms. The horse’s ears were turned to listen for his commands, and he knew the animal’s eyes were wide with a fright that reflected his own fears.
If there was no smoke and no fire, what other emergency could there be? Any number of dangers existed on a ranch, from mountain lions and wolf attacks to someone falling out of the hay loft.
The ranch house came into sight. No smoke. No fire.
Two pickup trucks were roaring down the road toward the Rocking R. They’d heard the gong, too. And responded.
The volunteer fire truck from town wouldn’t be far behind them.
In ranch country, neighbors helped neighbors.
Kurt unlatched the final gate separating the grazing land from the ranch house and barns, and sped the remaining yards to the back of the house. He reined the lathered horse to a halt in front of Beth and Sarah.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” He was as winded as his horse, his lungs pumping hard.
Beth gave her ponytail an insolent flick with her hand. “Our new housekeeper,” she said in a snooty voice, “wouldn’t let me go into town unless you said so.”
Gaping at his daughter, Kurt shook his head. “You’re telling me you rang the emergency gong for that?”
“I did it,” Sarah said. “Beth told me there was no other way to reach you. I was under the impression you had grounded her.”
Anger built in Kurt’s chest. He forced himself to stay in control as the two pickup trucks roared up to the barn and four hands from neighboring ranches piled out of the vehicles.
“Both of you, stay right where you are,” he said.
“Especially you, Beth.”
He reined his horse toward the arriving men. Still agitated, the gelding danced around, and Kurt had to reassert control over the animal.
“Sorry, fellows. A false alarm. But thanks for coming.”
Larry Hicks from the Skyline Ranch thumbed his hat farther back on his head. “You sure everything is okay?”
No, everything was not okay. “A little misunderstanding. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“No problem. Boys were lookin’ for a little excitement anyway. They got the summer doldrums.” Larry grinned at his buddies.
“Could you call the dispatcher in town, ask ’em to call off the volunteer fire truck?” Kurt asked.
“Will do.” Larry resettled his hat and all the men climbed back into their trucks.
Kurt dismounted and walked his horse to the back of the house where Beth and Sarah were waiting for him.
Before Kurt had a chance to say a single word, Beth laid into him.
“Daddy, this is so wrong. I knew you didn’t really mean I was grounded. That was only for Nana’s benefit so she’d get off my back. And Beth wouldn’t believe me, so I—”
“You’re not only grounded, Beth, you’re going to do chores all day. Starting with cooling off Pepper.” He patted the horse’s sweaty neck. “And giving him a good rubdown. Cleaning out the stalls comes next.”
“Dad…dy!” she wailed. “You can’t mean—”
“I do. Every word.” He handed her Pepper’s reins.
“Now get busy, young lady. When the stalls are clean, come tell me, and I’ll think of something else for you to do. We’ve let a lot of things go around the place this past year.” Including him letting his daughter slide by when he should have been paying more attention to Beth and less to his own feelings of guilt and grief. That was going to change.
The daggers Beth glared at him had sharp points, and they hurt at some deep level he hadn’t felt in a long time.
She yanked on the reins and walked Pepper to the barn, her ponytail swinging like the swishing tail of a raging bull.
“I love you, angel,” he said under his breath, and exhaled a weary sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I didn’t know that the gong would bring the entire county out here to see what was wrong.”
“Yep. That’s what it was meant to do.” He plucked his cell phone from the holster on his belt. “Of course, nowadays using one of these is a lot more efficient.”
Her eyes widened and pink colored her cheeks. “I asked about you having a cell. She said where you were was a dead zone.”
Taking off his hat, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat down on the top porch step. Rudy joined him, sitting on his haunches, his ears alert, his eyes curious.
“There’re a couple of dead zones,” Kurt said. “But three years ago the cell company put up three towers, one on my property and the other two nearby. My cell works most everywhere on the ranch. I should’ve thought to give you the number.”
“That’s a good idea.” She eased herself down to a step one below his. “I don’t think Beth meant any harm. I think she’s troubled.”
Gazing off into the distance, he idly petted the dog. “Yeah, I get that. And I haven’t