Finally a Hero. Pamela Tracy
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appear. “You’re waiting for your friend to come back?”
“My mother,” the man admitted, then leaned forward, one strong hand braced on Eva’s table and the other pushing the curtain farther aside. “Did she fall or something?”
“Um,” Eva said, “I think she took off with some man on a motorcycle. I couldn’t see his face because he wore a helmet. They took off down the road, probably toward the interstate.”
“Oh, man, you’ve got to be kidding.” He’d had a stoic, too-serious expression from the time they’d entered the restaurant, but now she could clearly read shock all over his face.
Eva shook her head, not kidding.
He marched over to his table and ordered Timmy, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
The boy didn’t move. Hadn’t since he’d spilled his water. But once his father turned away from him, he started edging to the floor and under the table.
As Eva and Jane watched, the man stepped outside, looked to the right and left. Not much happening on this blistering August day. It was after the noon rush, and the parking lot was empty save for four cars, including the one Eva had watched him arrive in.
Then he came back inside. Timmy was completely under the table, thumb in mouth, beginning a curious humming sound. The man walked past him, straight for Eva. “Tell me what you saw,” he ordered.
“I saw her leaving.”
“Story of my life,” he muttered.
He must have quite a story, but Eva didn’t want to know what happened in the next chapter. She liked her days to run smoothly. She’d spent her whole life, it seemed, trying to make sure the people around her were happy and that everything was in its place.
Sometimes she succeeded.
The past hour left her feeling worried and disgruntled. She exited the restaurant and climbed into the royal-blue Ford F-250 pickup decorated with the logo and phone number for the Lost Dutchman Ranch.
Driving out of Apache Creek township and into the rural area where the ranch waited, Eva remembered every detail from the restaurant. The man had obviously just had a son dropped in his lap by a mother who wasn’t much of a mother—or grandmother, apparently. Eva couldn’t even fathom the type of woman who’d sneak out of a restaurant leaving family behind not knowing.
She wondered how the man would get Timmy out from under the table. She had never been around reticent children. Her sisters had never been afraid to show their feelings.
She didn’t remember fear being part of her childhood—not fear of people, anyway. Fear of horses was a whole different story. The worst thing, the thing that made the Hubrecht clan dysfunctional, was her dad’s habit of thinking he always knew best, and that his word was law, to be followed without question. But he’d never made them feel like they should be afraid. He’d never raised a hand to them. His punishment was “You’re grounded. No television or horse privileges for a week.” And under all the bluster was a heart made of gold. Eva saw it even if her sisters didn’t.
But Timmy was afraid.
Eva could only wonder what would happen to the boy now that the man had been left in possession of his son. And she couldn’t quite shake the connection she’d felt with the man the first time his gaze had caught hers. There was something about him that made her want to get involved. But no, she’d held the enabler card before, and it never played well for her.
And this time, she hadn’t even gotten the name of the man who caused her such angst.
Pulling into the Lost Dutchman Ranch, she finally relaxed. She felt like she’d already put in a full day, though it was just past lunchtime. No way could she be a social worker like her sister Elise. Her small involvement with the people at the restaurant had totally drained her.
“We have nothing to complain about,” she announced to Patti de la Rosa, Jane’s mom, as she entered the lobby and headed for the front desk.
“I told you that a long time ago. Jane just called and told me all about what happened at the restaurant. Poor man. Jane says he’s still there trying to get his son to come out from under the table. I’m going to add him to the prayer list at church.”
Eva sat down behind the front desk and checked the answering machine and their website.
“You don’t want to do that,” Patti advised her. “It’ll just depress you.” As office assistant and head of housekeeping, Patti knew everything there was to know about the workings of the Lost Dutchman. “I already put up the cancellation specials. Not even ten minutes passed before a family called in, canceled their original reservation and hung up. Then, five minutes later, they called and re-reserved under the special price, this time using the husband’s name and card.”
Eva closed her eyes. When a block of rooms suddenly opened up, it was good policy to offer last-minute price breaks to potential guests who might be looking for spur-of-the-moment deals.
Today it hadn’t worked in the ranch’s favor.
“We did get two bookings for October,” Patti said helpfully.
October filled no matter what. Snowbirds flocked to Arizona for its perfect weather.
“I was really hoping for a good summer season,” Eva said. “I need to go find Dad and tell him we can’t afford this new hire. We can’t.” She checked the dining hall, the kitchen and her dad’s office. He wasn’t in their living areas. Standing on the back porch, she looked down the desert landscaping and toward the barn. That’s where he’d be.
She had a love/hate relationship with the barn. On one hand, she hated the way it made her feel: scared, trapped, inadequate. On the other, she came from a long line of horsemen and very much wanted to join their ranks.
She wanted to ride with her dad, her sisters, her someday children.
Go down there, she told herself. You’re a grown woman, strong, and you manage the Lost Dutchman. All of it.
Her feet obeyed, and one step at a time, she walked the half mile to the barn. She could have hopped on one of the ranch’s all terrain vehicles, but that would have gotten her there sooner. She’d face the barn when she got there, but she wasn’t exactly in a rush to make that happen.
She found her father in the saddle room, mending a hobble strap. Chris LeDoux played on the radio.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Dad? Do we really need another hand?”
Jacob Hubrecht still had a full head of hair, light brown and brushed to the side. His eyebrows were bushy, his mouth wide. Age had given him wrinkles, very defined, but he still looked strong, and had certainly held on to all his stubbornness through the years. He didn’t pause in his task. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve got the good of the ranch in mind. Leave it be.”
Her two younger sisters had rebelled against his unyielding authority. Eva, however, usually understood where her father was coming from and agreed. Not this time, though.
She didn’t move, just stared at him.
“I’m not getting any younger,” he finally said. “It’s time to put some new, young, strong employees into place—” his hands, always so capable, formed into fists “—so that when I need to work less, I can know all is being cared for.”
He had to be talking about the horses because Eva could do everything else.
She wanted to do everything. Then he wouldn’t be hiring a hand they couldn’t afford.
Behind her, a horse snorted as if reading her mind and knowing she couldn’t possibly care for the mares and geldings like her father did.
“So, this