Page 19 of Forsaken Hearts
“Why?”
“Because I said so, Carson.” Her word was usually final.
Ayla looked impressed and Carson looked like he wanted to argue more and then thought better of it. “Fine.”
“Good.
For the first time since Summer’s call, Pope felt like he could exhale.
He felt better knowing Willow shared enough of his concern to take action, but he still hated that his hands were tied. And he hated that Summer was scared and wouldn’t allow him to ease her mind.
He met Willow’s gaze. “Thank you.”
She set her hand over the keys on the corner of her desk. “We’ll figure this out.”
He nodded and headed toward the barn again.
He’d planned to grab breakfast but now his appetite was gone. The knot in his gut filled the entire space. He looked into the distance at an older barn, original to the property, like something forgotten but still strong enough to stand.
He didn’t even make it to the barn door before tiny footsteps pattered the ground behind him. He already knew what—or who—made that sound, and he turned to catch the toddler rushing his way.
“Neeeeeigh!” Navy did one heck of a horse impersonation, and it wasn’t possible to keep a straight face despite his worries.
He caught the child and swung her up onto his shoulders, where she sat like a queen, little pink cowboy boots lightly beating against his chest.
Rhae rounded the corner, smiling at the sight of her young wayward daughter, the new baby strapped to her chest in a carrier.
“There you are. Can you keep an eye on her while I run back to the lodge for a half hour or so?”
“I can manage.” Horses brought him calm, and Navy was a good distraction from the things weighing on his mind. She was one blessed little girl to be part of the big Malone family.
Rhae smiled. “I figured. Thanks, Pope. Listen to Pope, Navy.”
She wiggled on his shoulders and he lowered her to the barn floor. She shot off down the center aisle, boots pounding. Her favorite horse stuck her head over the stall door, long nose reaching down for Navy’s outstretched hand and a slice of apple she always had stuffed in her pockets.
The little girl laughed, all bright joy and trust that the world was good, but Pope’s mind shifted right back to Summer.
He wasn’t so carefree.
Especially when somebody out there was watching her close enough to know exactly what she needed.
* * * * *
Summer had worked the eleven-to-seven shift enough times to know lunch and dinner meant more tables and better tips if she kept moving and smiled like her feet didn’t ache in her worn boots by one-thirty even though she still had most of a shift left to survive.
She moved between tables with a coffeepot in one hand and an order pad tucked into her apron, smiling through complaints about the fries being too crispy or too soggy while her mind kept returning to the same thing it had all morning.
She should feel relieved every time she looked out the front windows and saw her car sitting there with four new safe tires instead of balding rubber and a patched sidewall.
All paid for by a credit on her account that she never created and shouldn’t exist.
She should feel relieved she didn’t have to come up with a large sum of money she didn’t have. Instead, she had so many questions she could barely keep the orders straight.
The guy at the garage had told her the puncture looked deliberate.
Not caused by road debris or a nail she picked up driving—deliberate.
Then he’d told her the car was all-wheel drive and she couldn’t replace just one tire. They were pretty worn, he’d said, like he wasn’t giving a total that made her stomach hollow out. He told her she needed new ones before the next Wyoming winter anyway, like she had a money tree growing in her back yard.
