Margot Dalton - Even the Nights are Better

“Well, don’t you think that’s good news?” Vernon asked. “Aren’t you glad to see the kids prospering?”

“Not at the expense of my ranch and my herds.”

“They won’t bother your herds,” Vernon said comfortably. “Besides,” he added with his wry grin, “just think how much business those greenhorns are gonna bring in to the hospital, what with all the rope burns and cactus spines and saddle sores and broken bones. Maybe the nursery will finally be able to afford those new baby incubators they’ve been lobbying for.”

Carolyn chuckled in spite of herself, then looked gloomy again. “I just wish I knew where he came from, Vern.”

Vernon glanced at her in surprise. “Everybody knows the man’s biography by now, Carolyn. He comes from Austin, grew up there and got his law degree from—”

“From Baylor,” Carolyn interrupted impatiently. “I know all that, Vern. And he’s a highly successful divorce lawyer who’s decided he wants a new challenge, some wholesome country life, etc. etc. I could recite the man’s pedigree in my sleep, I think. What I want to know is how he got to be my neighbor. Who told him the place was for sale? It was never advertised in the city. Who sold it to him? Where did he come from?”

Vernon was silent, gripping the wheel of his parked car and looking with apparent deep interest at the quiet deserted veranda of Carolyn’s sprawling stone ranch house.

“I know, I know,” Carolyn said, gazing at his quiet profile. “You’re not going to tell me, are you? Realtors stick together and protect one another just like any other profession. But believe me, if I ever get my hands on whoever sold that man the ranch next door without even so much as coming over to mention to me that it was for sale…”

She paused and her beautiful face tightened briefly with emotion. Then she collapsed against the seat, washed under by a sudden flood of dark misery.

Vernon turned to her, his face full of concern. “Caro? What’s the matter, girl?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Vern,” she said helplessly. “Somehow it all just seems too much to bear, you know? The place next door bringing disease and problems to my herd, and poor Cynthia and J.T., and everything…seems like this day’s been getting more and more awful ever since you came through the gates this morning with that pitiful little mop dog.”

As she spoke the words, her face twisted suddenly and she stared at Vernon, her blue eyes wide with wretched appeal.

“Vern,” she whispered. “The mop dog! Oh, God, when Cynthia phoned I forgot all about him till this moment! Oh, no…”

Still murmuring distractedly, she flung herself from the car and ran across the driveway to the barn. Vernon watched her for a startled moment and then hurried after her, his face drawn with anxiety.

“I was in the kitchen,” Carolyn said hastily over her shoulder, running through the wide double doors of the barn. “I was just getting something ready to feed him, and then Cynthia called and I forgot all about him. Oh, Vern…”

She paused beside the manger and looked up at Vernon who stopped beside her, a little out of breath from this unexpected exertion.

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