"Beware of those who wish to improve you. Too often, they have their own best interests at heart."
Late that night, Olivia watched Mike go out on his "evening rounds" of the ranch. He pampered his prize cattle as if they were children. Olivia wanted a real family, but sometimes felt as if Mike already had his own "youngsters."
Mike didn't like crowds, Olivia knew. He was so large that he'd had a hard time growing up. Kids at school had made fun of him, calling him Monster Mike. Most people were afraid of him. They couldn't see his gentle nature.
Animals seemed to recognize his goodness, though.
Olivia had never seen Mike hurt a living creature. Earlier in the spring, when a pair of barn swallows had disappeared, Mike had gotten so worried about their young that he'd searched the barn and outbuildings until he found their nest, the baby birds chirping for food. He'd spent weeks nursing them to health.
But Mike's compassion didn't extend to strangers. So Olivia went out to the barn, looking for him, hoping to put him at ease about Bron.
Olivia hated that she had to lie to him so often, hide things. She was in love with the giant, but the few times when she'd tried to tell him the truth about herself, he'd grown afraid.
The barn smelled clean, of fresh alfalfa, salt licks, and only a little of steer. She crept through it quietly.
She found Mike in the corral, beneath a hanging heat lamp, scratching the head of a pregnant cow, saying good night to his animals. His Labrador retriever, Sheila, sat quietly at his side.
The banded Galloways had a thick patch of hair on their heads, several inches long, to protect them from the cold. Their scalps looked almost human.
As Mike scratched the cow, she rolled her eyes back and laid her muzzle along his arm, then stuck out her tongue, probing for a treat. Sure enough, Mike pulled a carrot from the pocket of his jeans.
"Don't take those from my garden," Olivia said. "You promised."
Mike nearly jumped out of his shoes, surprised by her voice, made doubly afraid because he knew that he'd been caught.
"Damned store-bought carrots aren't any good," Mike said. "They've got no minerals in them. Besides, you're one to complain about waste. You want to buy that kid all new clothes? You've only known him for a couple of hours!"
Olivia had dreaded this argument. "He needed the uniforms. He can't get by without them. He's a good kid."
"He's practically grown," Mike said. "It feels like you're moving another man into our house. It's not enough that you spend all of your time with those kids at school...."
Olivia drew close to Mike, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pulled him toward her. After seven years of marriage, she didn't doubt Mike's fidelity. But their love life had grown predictable, and as he realized that all the loving in the world wouldn't give him a baby, he'd lost some interest.
"I like my kids. You like your cattle. We love each other. What's so wrong with that?"
She had imagined that Mike was half-teasing, but saw an angry curl to his lip. He stared at his cow, rubbing it on the ridge between its horns.
"I always figured that when we got a kid, we'd get a younger one—one that we could raise. This kid's almost all grown...."
"On the outside, maybe," Olivia admitted, "but on the inside he still has a lot of growing to do, and a lot of healing."
"Never figured you to be one for gathering strays," he complained. Mike turned to gaze at her. The gleam from the heat lamp just behind her back reflected in his eyes. "That boy doesn't seem to have a liking for cattle. Didn't even ask about them during dinner."
"He was just surprised to see them. He's always lived in the city. Besides, we talked about them in the car, on the way here."
Mike shook his head regretfully. "Any proper kid would be jumping out of his boots at the sight of these cattle. Little kids all want to be cowboys when they grow up."
"A lot of little kids do," Olivia agreed. "But I'm sure Bron has his own plans."
Mike bit his lip. "You've got that right. You know what boys are like at sixteen."
She gave him a questioning look, but knew where this was going.
Mike continued, "Their minds are swimming in hormones at that age. That kid up there in the house, he's lying in bed, dreaming about you. You've got him all worked up, and don't even know it. He's probably sweating all over his sheets, hotter than a bull after a heifer. It's not his fault, of course. He won't be able to stop where his mind goes. It's just nature."
"Not all boys are that way, I'm sure," Olivia said, trying to deflect Mike's jealousy. "Give him a chance."
Mike sighed, leaned against the fence, in resignation. "If you're going to get him a car,
make sure that it's easy on the gas."
She looked up at him and raised a brow. She hadn't even had to ask. "A car?" Olivia had been wondering how to bring up the problem.
"Well, you work all those odd hours, and I can't imagine him wanting to stay at school till midnight. I can't always take the time to drive down and pick him up."
She was an actress, of course, so now she acted. "You're right," she said as if it had just dawned on her. "We will need a car.... It would have to be pretty cheap."
"And it has to be good in the snow," Mike enthused. "Make it a front-wheel drive. And it doesn't have to be cheap—which means 'broken down' or 'likely to fall apart' in my book. It needs to be a good investment. If we have to sell it in a couple of weeks, I don't want to take a beating on the price."
"Don't worry," Olivia said. "I'll find us a bargain."
Mike grimaced, went back to scratching the head of his cow. He took a deep breath. "I think I know why you like that boy."
"Why's that?"
"He kind of looks like you—same hair, same color of skin. He looks like he could be your own blood."
"He does look like he could be our kid, doesn't he?" Olivia agreed.
Mike grunted thoughtfully and shook his head. "Olivia, don't get your hopes up. We don't know that boy, and I've got a bad feeling about him."
"Bad feeling?" Olivia asked. She knew that it came from jealousy. Mike was uncomfortable with strangers anyway. Now she'd be spending time with this kid, spending money on him.
"Yeah, look in his eyes," Mike said. "He's a cold one."
Olivia nearly laughed. Mike didn't really believe that, did he? But she saw from his sober expression that he did, and that worried her. Mike was sensitive to the nature of other people. She'd seen that over and over again. He was a superb judge of character. Mike went on, "Yeah, there's something wrong with that kid."
Olivia lay awake that night worrying. The car chase had her terrified, and she kept replaying events in her mind, trying to figure out whether the Draghouls would be able to find her. Mike couldn't possibly know what kind of danger Bron presented. He was just a boy, but even if he was the best kid in the world, a Gandhi in the making, his presence posed a threat to the entire family.
The Draghouls had to suspect that she—a feral—had stolen one of their nightingales. And if they tracked her down, it would mean an end to her cozy world.
She suspected that they would leave her alive. She was too talented to simply waste. And Bron would be left alive, too. But the Draghouls would alter them, change them in ways perverse and deadly. Mike? He might get a bullet to the back of his head.
She was risking everything for a boy she'd hardly met. Am I a fool, she wondered, or am I just trying to be heroic?
The truth was though, she had been taking this risk all of her life. Every time she went to school to teach, she interfaced with others. Eventually, her luck was bound to run out.