“You’re so good for me,” she said, wiping coffee from the table with a napkin.
“You’re good for me, too.”
Their eyes met and there were so many emotions he saw there, but he could also see she wasn’t ready to express them. He didn’t know if she ever would be.
She leaned back in her chair. “It feels so good to sit and relax before all the madness starts.” Her voice held a soft caring quality and he didn’t know of anyone who cared more about people than she did.
“You work too hard.” He wrapped his hands around his cup.
“Look who’s talking. You put in long hours, just like I do.”
“But I don’t get up at two thirty in the morning.”
“Yeah.” She stared down into her coffee and he wished he could read her thoughts. “That is getting old, but it’s my job. Mom’s not as spry as she used to be, so it’s up to me to run the bakery.”
The Wiznowskis were one of the founding families of Horseshoe. Willard, Anamarie’s dad, owned the blacksmith shop. Her twin sisters, Patsy and Peggy, ran Talk of the Town Beauty Shop. And, of course, Bubba had the gas station. The youngest, Angie, was married to Hardison Hollister, the district attorney. Angie also had an office connected to the bakery. She was an accountant and took care of the books for the bakery and several other businesses. There were another boy and girl, but they had moved away. The Wiznowskis were good people and Rico had to wonder if he would ever be allowed to see their daughter other than on Tuesday morning.
He had a good family, too, sort of. He had saved Egan Rebel’s life in prison when Egan had been unjustly accused of a crime. Egan’s mother, Kate Rebel, had hired a new attorney and had gotten her son out quickly. When Egan had told her about the incident in prison, Miss Kate had hired an attorney for Jericho and within three months he had been released. He had no family and nowhere to go. Miss Kate had offered him a job at Rebel Ranch and he had gladly accepted. Even though he had known nothing about cowboying, he’d been willing to learn. The family had accepted him wholeheartedly and without prejudice. That went a long way toward healing old wounds. There were seven Rebel sons: Falcon, Quincy, Egan, Elias, Jude, Paxton and Phoenix. At first, his loyalty had been to Egan, but now he was close to all the brothers and he would give his life for any one of them.
“Are you still building fences with Elias?”
He took a long sip of coffee. “Yep. Miss Kate and Falcon decided to clear some land to the north to run more cattle. It’s overrun with bushes and scrub oaks. Elias and I are trying to get a cross fence up before hay season starts.”
“They are so lucky to have you.” She reached across the table and touched his hand around the cup. In a split second, she withdrew it and scooted back nervously in the chair.
He didn’t want her to be nervous about touching him. It should be natural and easy, the way their conversations had been over the last few years. He wanted to reassure her, but she broke into his thoughts.
“I can’t believe Maribel is pregnant. I saw her the other day at the bank and she’s really showing now. Two kids, twenty years apart. That has to be a shock.”
Talking about other people was more comfortable for her. He just wished he could turn the conversation back to them. But, as usual, he went with the flow.
“I think they miss Chase since he went off to college and they decided to have another child. Maribel really wants a girl. Elias, he’s just happy.”
“It’s a true love story.” Her eyes took on a faraway expression and Rico just stared at all the dreams he saw in them. Why she thought she could never have what other women had, he never understood. Maybe because of her mother, Doris, who was always putting her down. Always expecting things of her she didn’t expect of her other children. He didn’t like the way Anamarie was treated, but then again, it was his rule to stay out of family relationships. One day he might just have to break that rule.
Suddenly, a frown marred her face and he turned to see what had caused it. A little boy of about three or four stood at the front door with his face pressed against the glass. It was dark outside. Where had the kid come from? Rico got up and unlocked the door and the little boy stepped inside with a small mixed-breed black-and-white dog at his feet. The boy’s jeans and T-shirt were filthy, as were his sneakers. He looked as if he hadn’t had a bath in weeks. He had dark eyes and hair. One hand was clenched at his side and he raised it up and opened his hand. In the palm were a quarter, a nickel and two pennies.
“I’d like to buy some food, please.” The dog barked as if to second the request.
“Ah...sure.” Rico glanced toward Anamarie, but she was already in the kitchen. He guided the boy to a table and picked him up and sat him in a chair.
Anamarie brought a glass of milk and a plate of kolaches and cut-up sausage rolls and placed it in front of the little boy. He didn’t take it. Instead he placed the money on the table.
“I have to pay for it,” the little boy said. “My grandma said we have to pay for what we get.”
“It’s okay, sweetie. The food’s on me. You don’t have to pay me anything.”
The little boy shook his head stubbornly. “No. My grandma said we have to pay for what we get.”
Anamarie looked at Rico and he nodded. She picked up a penny and said, “This pays for the food. You can keep the rest.”
“Mickey’s hungry, too.” He glanced down at the dog. “He’s a dog, not a mouse.”
Anamarie smiled at Rico and his world felt complete when she did that. She then went to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of milk and some sausage rolls. As she placed it in front of the dog, the kid asked, “Do I owe you more money?”
“No, no,” she replied. “You’ve paid for everything.”
“’Kay.” He slipped the rest of the money back into his pocket and picked up the glass of milk, guzzling it. Some ran down his chin.
“Hey, buddy, slow down.” Rico reached for a napkin and dabbed at his chin. “Take it slow.” The little boy did as he was told and Rico stepped over to Anamarie.
“Do you recognize him?”
“He’s Wendy Miller’s grandson. He’s usually very neat. I can’t imagine what he’s doing out at this hour by himself.”
“I’m going outside to check around. Maybe Mrs. Miller is outside and sent him in to get food. It’s obvious he hasn’t eaten in a while.”
He couldn’t see much through the darkness. The roar of cars on the highway hummed loudly. A delivery van pulled up to the diner and the sun strained to peep through the clouds—signs of a town slowly waking up to a new day. Nothing out of the ordinary. He went back inside.
“After he finishes eating, I’ll talk to him,” he told Anamarie.
The little boy wiped his mouth, and said, “Thank you. I gotta go home now.” He slid from the chair, but Rico stopped him.
“Hold on, little guy.” He pulled up a chair and sat in front of the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Dustin,” was the response. “But my grandma calls me Dusty.”
“Do you know your last name?”
The boy nodded. “Dustin Miller. I can write it. Do you wanna see?”
“Maybe later. How old are you?”
Dustin held up four fingers.
“Do you go to school?”
The boy