She only hoped God would show her the right way to deal with this.
Gayle Maxwell was a petite, dark-headed woman who, because of the hard life she’d had, looked older than her fifty-one years. Trixie watched Logan’s mother, physically feeling the woman’s disapproval of her presence there. Gayle had not been pleased all those years ago when Trixie and Logan had formed an instant bond; she apparently wasn’t pleased now to have Trixie back in their lives. And, Trixie had to remind herself, the woman was probably concerned that soon she might be displaced and unemployed. Well, Trixie was worried about that, too.
“Hello, Mrs. Maxwell,” Trixie said as they entered the long, paneled kitchen of the lodge. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak with your earlier.”
“Hello, Tricia,” Gayle replied, her lips tight, her red-rimmed eyes looking everywhere but at Trixie. “Sorry about Brant. We’ll all miss your daddy.”
“Me, too.”
Trixie knew Gayle had been avoiding her, but she wasn’t prepared for the woman’s evasiveness tonight. Gayle looked downright uncomfortable. Her movements were erratic and jittery. Her brown eyes darted here and there, as if she expected someone to burst into the room and interrupt their meal any minute. Maybe Gayle was still upset about Brant’s death. They had always had a close relationship.
Wanting to soothe the older woman, Trixie asked, “Can I do anything to help with dinner?”
Gayle turned back to the stove. “No, everything’s under control.” Over her shoulder she said to Logan, “I’ve already fed all of the children. Samantha’s with them down at the bunkhouse, helping them with their studies.”
Trixie watched as Logan nodded, then told her that Samantha was a trained counselor who helped out during the summer. “She’s also a qualified teacher. Some of the kids aren’t ready to go back into the mainstream just yet, so we homeschool them.” He glanced at her, then back to his mother. “Where’s…where’s Caleb?”
Gayle dropped the spoon she’d been holding with a clatter. “Down at the bunkhouse with the rest,” she said, her gaze holding her son’s.
Trixie didn’t miss the look that passed between mother and son, nor did she understand what was going on. She was tired and still stunned by her father’s death and having to be here again, but it was obvious that these two had mixed feelings about her visit to the ranch. Not wanting to ask too many questions too soon, she could only lift her brows in a questioning expression.
By way of an explanation, Logan turned to Trixie. “Caleb’s the youngest of the bunch, so he spends a lot of time up here with Mama.”
Trixie nodded. “Oh, the little boy you were holding at the funeral.” With a poor attempt at humor, she added, “Goodness, he looks too adorable to be a juvenile offender. What’s he in for?”
A dark look colored Logan’s face. “His mother abandoned him,” he said in a low, tight voice.
Trixie fell down on a chair, all the energy she had left quickly pooling at her feet. Logan’s words felt like a slap against her suddenly hot skin. Of course, he had no way of knowing how close to home his words had hit. “How awful,” she said, her words barely above a whisper. “He’s so young, so little.” So like the child I gave up.
Gayle turned then to stare over at her, the look on the older woman’s face full of fear mixed with contempt. “Your Daddy told the boy he’d always have a home here. That is, unless you sell it out from under him.”
“Mama, hush,” Logan said, shooting Gayle a warning glare.
Trixie stood up then, determined to be firm and fair in dealing with the Maxwells. “I haven’t made a decision regarding what to do about this place yet, Mrs. Maxwell. You see, I wasn’t aware of the foundation my father had set up here.”
“You would have been, if you’d bothered keeping in touch,” Gayle said over her shoulder. “But I guess you had better things to do with your time.”
Trixie’s gaze flew to Logan’s face. He looked uncomfortable, but it was obvious from his cold, restrained look that he agreed with his mother.
“You’re absolutely right,” she said, her heart breaking all over again to think that Logan felt this way about her. “I didn’t stay close with my father, and I have only myself to blame for that, but now I’m trying to piece things together so I can make the right choice.”
Gayle whirled then, her eyes full of distrust. “The right choice for all of us, or for yourself?” Before Trixie could answer, the woman barreled ahead. “I know all about your fancy degree, Ms. Dunaway. And I guess you’re about as qualified and entitled as anybody to make changes at this place. Marketing consultant, is it? Fancy education, fancy title, fancy everything. But that don’t make you smart. Not in my eyes, at least.”
Shaking her spoon at Trixie, she added, “Your daddy used to say that it’s better to be kind than wise and that true wisdom begins with kindness. Brant had both of those qualities down pat. Too bad his only daughter never learned them.”
Tears pricked at Trixie’s eyes, but she refused to let Gayle or Logan see her pain. After all, she couldn’t just blurt out that she’d had a child out of wedlock with Logan and that her father had stopped talking to her afterward, and that was the reason she’d been forced to stay away from the ranch.
“Well, maybe I can learn all about kindness and wisdom while I’m here,” she said in a quiet voice. “And I assure you, I won’t make a hasty decision until I’ve weighed all of the facts.”
Mustering what little dignity she had left, she carefully walked around the table, then edged her way to the open back door. “I’m not really very hungry, after all. If you’ll both excuse me, I think I’d just like to go for a walk before I go to bed.”
Then she was out the door, out in the night air. The wind hit her skin, cooling the heat that radiated from her face, soothing the humiliation that radiated from her soul. From inside, she could hear Logan arguing with his mother, bits of scattered words echoing out over the trees. Was he arguing in her defense, or was he simply warning Gayle to tread lightly while the wicked witch was on the premises?
Trixie didn’t bother sticking around to find out which. Instead she headed down the sandy dirt lane to the stables, her feet taking her where her mind wanted to be. From the single security light shining out over the trees and shrubbery, she found her way to the looming structure to seek shelter from all of her problems, just as she’d done that summer so long ago.
As Trixie entered the corridor of the long building, a slender mare, a working quarter horse, greeted her with a soft whinny and a toss of her white mane.
Reaching out to rub the nose of the chestnutcolored animal, Trixie cooed softly. “Hello, girl. How ya doing?”
The animal nudged her hand in response.
Looking around for a feed bag, Trixie said, “Let me see. I’ll bet we can find you some sort of snack.”
For the next few minutes Trixie stood letting the mare eat the mixture of oats, bran and hay she’d found nearby. As she watched the animal munch, she remembered other times she’d done this same thing, always with Logan by her side. He knew everything there was to know about horses, and he’d learned it all from her father. Again she felt that stab of jealousy and resentment whenever she thought about Brant and Logan, here together like a father and son.
“Maybe I should have been born a boy,” she said to herself, knowing in her heart that Brant had loved her once just the way she was. No, she couldn’t hold a grudge for something she had forced her father to do. She had asked Brant to allow Logan to stay on, had begged him not to fire Logan.
“It’s all my fault, Daddy,” she had said at the time. “I…I flirted with him. I wanted to be with him. If you send him away, Gayle will go with him. Then they won’t have a place to live. Please, Daddy, don’t