K.N. Casper - As Big As Texas

“I’ve got you,” he assured her.

For a moment she seemed reluctant to let him go. What was running through her mind? Ethan wondered. Had her dad been the kind of man to hold his daughter when she was frightened or tired? Had anyone held her since her parents had disappeared from her life?

“Fiddlesticks, this is Heather,” he told the horse. “She’d like to ride you this afternoon.” The animal just stood there, of course.

As he had with Megan, he showed Heather how to hold out her hand so the horse could sniff it. “Good as a handshake,” he said, and encouraged her to rub the nose. He saw the hint of a smile on her face when she did. The velvety softness of a horse’s snout always fascinated the uninitiated.

“Ready?” he asked.

He sensed both her apprehension and excitement when she nodded. Assuring her everything was going to be fine, he lifted her into the saddle. “Being as this is your first time, you can hold on to the horn, if you want to.”

He walked the twenty-five-year-old gelding—his father’s favorite—toward the arena, confident the horse wouldn’t spook, especially with a child on his back.

“Looking good, Heather.” Kayla smiled up at the girl as she opened the arena gate so they could enter.

Ethan kept the pace slow as he led her first in one direction, then in the other. Fiddlesticks was patient, and Heather began to relax. Not completely, but her initial fear was dissipating.

The girls had just finished and dismounted when Luella appeared with a plate of homemade cookies. She was a small woman, only a little over five feet, and despite her expertise in the kitchen, she was quite slender. Almost sixty, she’d been with the Ritters over thirty years.

“I figured you girls could use a break,” she said, “and I thought you might like to try my pecan-butter cookies. They’re like peanut butter cookies, ’cept they’re made with pecans, of course.”

Ethan reached for one. She slapped his fingers. “Mind your manners. Guests first. Besides, you’ll hog them all and nobody else will get a chance to even taste them.”

She held out the plate for Kayla and the girls, and Ethan watched Kayla almost melt in front of him as she bit into one. He smiled at Luella, who smiled back.

“Now if you don’t like them,” she said, “you just tell me, and I’ll fix something else next time.”

“Mmm. These are delicious,” Kayla said.

“Yummy.” Megan took a second.

Ethan watched Heather as she nibbled the edge of hers. All of a sudden tears were streaming down her face. Putting an arm across her shoulder, he didn’t have to ask what was bothering her. He just let her cry against his shirt.

KAYLA WAS IMPRESSED with Ethan’s skill at handling the traumatized child. He hadn’t pushed, as many adults did with children who were withdrawn. He accepted her silence and her tears as perfectly natural. Kayla hadn’t missed the way the girl had clung to him when she’d lost her balance or again when he’d helped her onto the horse, either. In those fleeting moments it occurred to Kayla that the girl was reaching out for more than physical support, and to Kayla’s amazement, Ethan seemed to understand that.

How had he developed this remarkable rapport with children?

“Did you have a good time today?” she asked as she drove Heather home. Her foster mom was too busy to come and get her. Kayla didn’t mind, even if it was fifteen miles, round-trip.

“Yes, ma’am,” Heather answered softly, as if she wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Would you like to come again?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kayla heard a spark of hope in this reply.

She couldn’t imagine the depth of loneliness and despair the poor child had endured. She herself had been a toddler when her mother had died in an automobile accident. She had no clear memory of Carol Crawford, just a few snapshots of the pretty young woman Kayla had come to resemble. Her father had been her whole world. She’d often wished he’d remarry so she could have a mother like other children, but he’d never even dated when she was growing up. He’d been a good dad, though; always there when she needed him.

“I’ll stop and talk to Mrs. Rayborn and see if you can come to the Broken Spoke with Megan during the week. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

Had she always been so polite? So compliant? Or had she learned to be this submissive?

The neighborhood Heather lived in wasn’t a slum, but it wasn’t too far removed from one, either. The houses were old, small and close together. Many of them needed painting. Only a few still had one-car garages. Most of the others had been converted to living space. Cars were parked on the street, under tacked-on carports and, occasionally, on lawns.

“Megan, please stay here while I talk to Mrs. Rayborn. I won’t be long.”

The woman who answered the door seemed about to yell as she swung it open. She stopped when she saw Kayla and Heather.

“Are you Mrs. Rayborn? I spoke to you yesterday on the phone. I’m Kayla Price. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

On the other side of forty, Leona Rayborn was a big woman in height and girth. She had an infant propped against her shoulder. A TV blared behind her. How the baby slept through the din was a mystery.

“Oh, hi. Did you have a good time riding, Heather?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m glad. Now go change your clothes, honey, and clean your room.”

The girl brushed past her and ran inside.

“And be sure to throw your dirty clothes in the hamper this time,” Mrs. Rayborn called after her. “We eat in fifteen minutes.”

She turned back to Kayla. “Place is a madhouse this time of day, what with meals and getting the little ones ready for bed. Randy’s late again, so it’s all on me. Thanks for bringing her home.” She was about to close the door when Kayla spoke up.

“If I can just take a minute…. Would it be all right to have the school bus drop Heather off at the Broken Spoke with my daughter after school on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays? She seems to enjoy riding, and I think it’ll be good for her. Megan really enjoys being with her.”

“I’m glad she’s finally making friends—” Leona shifted the baby to her other shoulder “—but if this is going to cost anything—”

“Not a cent,” Kayla assured her. “Mr. Ritter doesn’t want any money.”

“Monday, Wednesday and Friday, you say. Somebody will have to do her chores on those days.”

“Can she trade days with one of the other children?”

The woman thought a minute. “If horseback riding’ll get her out of that shell, I guess we can work something out. You’ll have to bring her home, though. I can’t go running out after her. Enough to do around here with all the others.”

“How many children do you have?” Kayla asked.

“Six, including this one. Just got him yesterday. Three months old. The little ones are the most work. Probably shouldn’t have taken him, but the poor thing’s got no place else to go. Make sure Heather’s home by six. That’s when we eat.”

“If we’re late, I’ll pick something up for her along the way,” Kayla offered.

“That’ll be fine. You got a cell phone?”

Kayla nodded.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d call and let me know. And please, not a bunch of junk. I’m having enough trouble getting her to eat properly. I sure don’t want her getting sick on me, too.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise. And thank you, Leona. I know Heather will appreciate it.”

“Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Got it. I’ll let her know.”

“Is she going to be able to come, Mommy?” Megan asked the second Kayla opened the car door.

“Yes, honey. Three days a week.”