Her hands trembled against the steering wheel. With some of that fear, yes, but it was building into something else. Fury. Hate. Determination.
She wanted to call her cousin. Nate was a sheriff’s deputy. She could lean on him. Let him help.
But this was a small town. She’d heard all the stories about the kinds of deals that were made behind closed doors in Tahoe. It wouldn’t be any different here. It would go to the D.A. who would be best friends with someone with a lot of money invested in another deal Keith was doing, and... Yeah. She knew how that went. How it always went.
A few leaves drifted down to settle on the hood of her car. It was a beautiful day. A peaceful day. The world marched on around her. It didn’t care if she was scared or not. It didn’t care if she played it safe or took a chance.
Reaching into her purse, she took out the phone she’d used to record the conversation with Keith. That recording would protect her. And exonerate her. But only if people got a chance to hear it.
The rational part of her brain croaked to life again, telling her to think about it. Take her time. She could make that choice just as easily in a week as she could now. She should consult an attorney. Be careful. Think.
But look where that had gotten her before. Out of prison, yes, but still afraid to stand up to anyone. Afraid to walk away from being mistreated. Afraid to be herself. And lying to a good man like Walker Pearce.
Charlie pressed her forehead to the steering wheel. She knew what she needed to do. She knew exactly what she needed to do. And it was the thing that scared her the most.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
FAT FLAKES OF snow drifted through the air, weaving a lacy sheet that barely obscured his sight, even fifty feet out. Walker slipped off his hat and let the air cool his head for a moment as the latest herd of cattle milled about, confused by the half day’s push down the mountain.
Walker had been in the high country for a full week now, camping out and catching an extra few hours of work whenever he could. He’d finished up the roundup for his new boss, but there was plenty of work to be found. Hands got hurt or didn’t show up, and there were nearly a dozen ranchers who needed to get their cattle out of the national forest before the deadline hit.
He loved the beauty of these mountains, and the weather had been decent. Most of the days had been bright and crisp with groves of turning aspen blazing across the hills. The nights had been good, too, with the kind of camaraderie he’d missed since he’d left the ranch. He’d caught up with a few old friends and made some new ones. He’d shared beers and heard stories that had almost made him feel that his life was normal. Almost.
The only bad part about it had been all the time he’d had to think. Time for everything he’d heard and said to Charlie to eat at him.
He couldn’t help feeling bad now, for the words he’d thrown at her and the way he’d treated her. What if she’d been telling the truth? Granted, that was a little hard for him to imagine. A woman who’d do all those things would certainly have no qualms lying about it. But he shouldn’t have bothered throwing it all in her face if he wasn’t even going to listen to a response.
People had done that to him his whole life, and he’d always hated it. His dad, certainly, but even teachers in school who’d wanted to help him, lecturing him about all his problems and never wa
nting to hear his take. And women. Women always assumed the worst about him, even the ones who liked him, like Charlie. He wasn’t that damn bad. He knew how to keep his dick in his pants. Hell, most of the time, he didn’t mean a damn thing with his flirting. And he’d never messed around on anyone. Not once.
So yeah, he knew a thing or two about being yelled at by someone who just wanted to yell. He’d certainly given it his all with Charlie.
She was probably guilty. She’d halfway admitted it. But what if she wasn’t?
His horse shifted restlessly under him, and Walker stroked her neck. He had to hold his place and keep the cattle grouped up while the hands near the road started loading them up. Given a chance, the animals would start edging away from the road and the lowing of the cattle being loaded up. So Walker held his horse steady and whispered a promise of an apple when they were through.
He’d apologize to Charlie when he got home. If she’d made a mess of her life, that was her problem. And whatever she’d gotten caught up in, she’d meant nothing cruel when she’d dragged Walker out to the Ability Ranch. She’d done that out of the goodness of her heart. Her meddling, know-it-all heart. Charlie honestly thought he belonged at that place.
And the thing was...maybe she was right. Or she might have been right if Walker had been born just a little smarter. Because the Ability Ranch was another thing Walker couldn’t stop thinking about.
He wouldn’t mind helping out around there. He could maybe drop in and work with the folks teaching the classes every once in a while. Except then he’d have to explain why he couldn’t do more. Why he couldn’t work there full-time.
His face burned at the very thought. Out here, no one ever asked for a résumé or even an explanation. Even at the dude ranches, they only made you fill out some basic information for a background check and payroll. He could put down where he’d gone to school and they didn’t give a damn whether he’d graduated with honors or skipped every class.
But the Ability Ranch would be different. He couldn’t just wing it there. No. He’d have to explain. He’d have to watch their faces as he admitted to being a thirty-year-old dropout who struggled to read and write.
Shit. He couldn’t do that. It’d kill him.
Walker was the one shifting restlessly this time, and the horse danced a few feet to the side.
“Sorry,” Walker murmured. And he was sorry. Because even admitting his fears to himself made him ashamed. Those kids at the Ability Ranch had a lot more to deal with than dyslexia and pride, and here he was, telling himself he couldn’t do something simple like ask for help or admit his weakness.
Maybe he should be more worried that he was a jackass and a coward than the fact that he didn’t have a diploma. “Shit.”
He frowned and eased his mount forward a few feet as the first heads of cattle were loaded up.
A truck pulled up next to the trailer and a man got out to speak to one of the cowboys down below. Walker watched as the guy nodded and then swung his mount around to ride up the trail.