He gave her a small smile. “You know, you’ve been talking to me quite a bit lately, more than you did when we were living in Aurora.”
Hallie remained silent.
“I enjoy talking to you,” Alex pressed gently. “Like the old days.” He’d been her trusted confidant, acting as both father and mother for as much of Hallie’s life as she could remember. “What happened back there at Caitlin’s? Did she do something to upset you?”
“No.” Again, she shrugged her shoulders. “I just thought it was cool to be living next door to her and Silver Fox. I hate it that she’s sending him away.”
But what Hallie had said—about everyone always leaving—obviously went far deeper than the horse being sent back to Foxwood. Alex stroked his daughter’s cheek. “Honey, you know I’m not going anywhere, don’t you?”
Hallie picked up a twig and traced circles in a patch of dirt near her feet. “Melissa left. And Grandma Hunter. And Aunt D’Ann and Uncle Vince moved to Wyoming.”
His gut twisted. Vince was married to his exwife’s sister, D’Ann. Melissa’s parents. Alex slipped his arm around Hallie’s shoulders and gave her a protective squeeze. “Not by choice, baby.” Not like your mother.
D’Ann and Vince hadn’t had a choice, either. Melissa’s death had destroyed them and they’d been unable to live in the town where their daughter had been murdered. Where so many memories haunted them. They’d returned to Laramie—Vince’s hometown.
“No. But that’s just it. Sometimes people don’t have choices. You don’t know what will happen. You can wake up one day and everything’s fine—” Her voice cracked and she struggled for control. “And the next minute it’s not fine. You’re dead or someone you love is gone.”
That his daughter should have such a fearful perspective bothered him more than Alex could say. He hated that she lived in a world where violence was common. Hated that he might have in some way contributed to that violence through his video games, desensitizing young people to bloodshed.
And now his twelve-year-old daughter, who should be worrying about boys, clothes and socializing with her friends, was instead worried about death and abandonment.
Alex laid his cheek against Hallie’s head. “You know, sugar, there are no guarantees in life. And there’s really nothing we can do about that. But there are promises, which we can choose to keep.” He pulled back and looked at her, hoping she could see in his eyes just how much he loved her. “And I promise, Hallie, I will never, ever abandon you. Not if I can help it. Besides, I’m planning to live to a ripe old age.” His lips curved in a teasing smile. “That way I can run off all the boys who come knocking on our door, at least until you’re thirty. And I’ll do the same for my granddaughters one day.”
“Da-ad.” Hallie rolled her eyes, and the gesture made his heart soar. To see her do something so normal felt wonderful.
“Well, okay.” Alex shrugged. “Maybe just until you’re twenty-nine.” He stood and took her hand. “Now, come on. You can’t sit here crying, or you’ll wash away the gully. You might even cause a flood.” He kept his voice light, hoping to make her smile.
But there were days when he wished the rain could pour down in a flood to rival Noah’s day, and wash away all the things that threatened his daughter and her happiness. He knew he couldn’t put her in a plastic bubble or lock her away in a bulletproof room. But he’d be damned if he’d let anyone hurt her. And if Caitlin Kramer was going to make her cry—albeit unintentionally—then he’d have to do his best to see to it that Hallie stayed away from her.
No matter how pretty he thought Caitlin was.
CAITLIN WOKE UP Saturday morning to a cold nose in the middle of her back. She jerked reflexively, arching her back, and a sharp pain shot through her spine. “Damn it, Spike!” Crankily, she opened her eyes and looked at the tan-and-white Jack Russell terrier her dad and brother had brought over when they’d returned her truck last night. The dog wriggled with joy, hopping across the bedcovers like a rabbit on speed. In spite of herself, Caitlin grinned and ruffled Spike’s ears. “You’ve got to learn better bedside manners than that,” she said, pushing away the sheet and blanket. Stiffly, she placed her feet on the floor. She looked at the clock—8:00 a.m. No wonder Spike was impatient.
Caitlin went to the back door and opened it for the little dog. She hoped he wouldn’t find a way to climb the V-mesh fence. Jack Russells were notorious escape artists. But it wasn’t as if she could’ve stepped outside in her camisole and panties to keep an eye on the dog. Not with Alex Hunter living across the way.
A short time later, Caitlin threw on some clothes and went out to feed Silver Fox, Spike trotting along ahead of her. The gray gelding whickered softly as she neared his paddock. She reached up to stroke his muzzle, planting a kiss on his velvety nose. “What’s the matter, boy? Did I wake up too late to suit you?” Fox’s normal breakfast time was 6:00 a.m. “Guess I’ll have to work on that, huh?”
In the barn, Caitlin leaned her cane against the two tons of hay Dillon had neatly stacked against one wall, near the fifty-five-gallon drums of sweet feed and alfalfa pellets. Even though the bales were somewhat stair-stepped, the ones on top of the pile were well out of her reach. Her brother tended to forget that the rest of the world was not six foot four. Grumbling, Caitlin stepped onto the bottom row of hay and began to climb, slowly, unsteadily, yet pleased she was able to do it. By the time she was within reach of the top row, she was shaking, her hairline beaded with sweat.
But she got a rush from doing the familiar task, one she dearly loved. The sweetness of the alfalfa-grass mix mingled with the clean scent of the wood shavings in Fox’s stall—comforting smells she’d known her entire life. Fox had come through the open entrance from the paddock to his stall, and he now nickered at her over the half door. “I’m moving as fast as I can,” she called down to him.
Spike had scaled the haystack as though it was nothing more than an anthill. He stood above her, docked tail wagging, his bright, curious eyes seeming to ask what she was waiting for. Caitlin laughed at the little dog, who appeared to be part cat half the time, and reached to grasp the twin loops of nylon twine on a hay bale.
As soon as she tugged it free, she realized her error. This bale likely weighed between sixty to eighty pounds, but Caitlin had completely misjudged it. The heavy load jerked her off balance, and she fell backward, tumbling down the stair-stacked hay. Involuntarily, she let out a shriek.
Spike bounded down and circled her where she landed on the dirt floor, barking for all he was worth. His antics made her all the more dizzy, and Caitlin groaned, clutching one hand to the small of her back. Thank God for the back brace. Still, pain shot through her extremities and her lower spine as she sat up unsteadily. She remained on the floor, trembling, myriad emotions running through her. Anger at her own stupidity. Frustration at not being able to do something so simple. And humiliation at having fallen like a helpless newborn filly trying to gain her legs. She raked a hand through her hair and growled a curse.
“Are you all right?”
Startled, Caitlin looked up into the wide eyes of Hallie Hunter. The girl stood in the doorway of the barn as though unsure of whether to move inside or take off running for help. Her face looked pale.
Caitlin shifted position, then moaned at a fresh stab of pain. “Yeah, I’m okay. Could you please hand me my cane?”
Hallie hurried to get it. She also reached out to give Caitlin a hand in rising to her feet.
“Boy, do I feel stupid.” Caitlin gave the kid a crooked grin. “Did you see me fall?”
Hallie’s face flushed, and she shook her head, her ponytail swishing. “No. I, uh, heard your dog barking and thought maybe something was wrong.” She bent to pet Spike, who leaped all over her with his usual vigor, as if he hadn’t seen a human in weeks. The girl giggled as the terrier licked her face. “He’s