Chapter Sixteen
“So what do you want to do?” Ryder really should have figured out a plan before he arranged this alone time with Mel, but planning was Peyton’s department.
Mel shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever you want.”
That was a dangerous statement. The last time he’d spent any time with Mel she’d gotten thrown from a horse, and he and Peyton had dissolved their daughter into a puddle of tears.
They could a hike a trail, or maybe he could take her out to the construction site. Or maybe canoeing on the lake.
A few guests on horseback trotted past them, backs straight and holding onto the reins for dear life. Ryder smiled. They were only here for a short time and many had underestimated what a week at a dude ranch entailed, but they were all up there giving it a shot and not succumbing to the fear. He could follow their lead. Mel wasn’t frightening. She was his daughter and no matter what they did, they would be spending quality time together.
“We could play hide and seek up on Roaming Trail.”
Ryder looked down to see Mel beaming from ear to ear. “You mean on horseback?”
She nodded, bouncing on the tips of her boots. God, he hadn’t played hide and seek on horseback since he was a teenager. He was surprised anyone still did, but then again, he’d played a round with Peyton once that had ended with them on a bed of pine needles. His jaw hardened. Playing it at ten years old was fine and dandy, but he would make sure Mel long gave up the notion before she entered her teens.
“That sounds like a plan.” As they walked toward his family’s private stable, he reviewed her suggestion and couldn’t come up with anything Peyton might object to. They weren’t roping or racing. Mel would be on her horse and they would be on one of the easiest trails the ranch had. Satisfied with their choice of an outing, Ryder saddled up their horses.
Ten minutes later, they were walking easily along the tree-lined trail. The sun beat down on them and only a few clouds dotted the otherwise smooth blue sky. Ryder searched for a topic that might interest a ten-year-old. Their interactions had increased over the past week and yet he still knew very little about his daughter. What brought a smile to her face? What was her favorite color? Favorite dessert? Did she have a favorite book or band?
“Do you want to hide first?” she asked, glancing briefly over her shoulder before focusing back on the trail ahead. He’d let her lead, figuring he could see any danger with her in front rather than her trailing behind. He had confidence both in her ability on a horse—she’d been raised on the ranch after all—and on her knowledge of this trail. Then again, he hadn’t asked her.
“Mel, you have been on this trail before, right?”
The look she shot him was pure Peyton. Condescension mixed with a little pity that he’d really thought she wouldn’t be able to handle herself. Good God, if his daughter already possessed that much confidence in herself the world better look out for when she actually had the means to wield it on others.
He smiled. “Well, since you’re the expert and I’m rusty, why don’t you go first?”
She returned his smile with a triumphant one of her own. “Count to thirty and no peeking.”
Before he could acknowledge her, she leaned forward and sent her small mount trotting off the trail. He tensed, afraid she would find herself dumped on the uneven terrain, but he quickly remembered this trail was centered on a huge range. No cliffs nearby or anything else other than woods. He lowered his head and counted.
Ryder found her among an outcrop of boulders. He actually missed her at first glance. She’d been that still, with complete control over her little gelding, Bug. She whooped when his gaze circled back and caught the sun glinting off the bridle.
“Took you long enough,” she chided and walked over to him, a grin spilling across her face.
“Cut your old man some slack. I’m rusty.”
“Sounds like an excuse, and Mom says excuses are never a reason.”
Typical Peyton. Never cutting slack. Never realizing that things were not always black and white. Hell, even gray had variations most of the time.
But he wouldn’t talk bad about Peyton even in a flow of sarcasm. They’d reached some type of holding pattern. Sharing glances full of heat and questions. Small lingering touches, as they circled around the fusing of their past, present, and future.
“I’ll try to do better.”
Mel nodded. “Your turn.” She closed her eyes and lowered her head. The hat he’d given her that morning shone bright in the dapple of sun filtering through the trees. He urged his mount around and went in search as Mel evenly increased her count.
He wove into a strand of trees and placed the horse behind the boughs of a large pine. Crooning softly to his mount, he reminded him that there was a bucket of apples waiting for him if he didn’t give their spot away.
A crunch of leaves to his right had him tensing. The little stinker had already found him. But a moment later a skunk ambled its way into the clearing. Having been sprayed twice in his life, he knew the best course was to hold still.
The mane flickered on his mount, but he tightened his thighs and the horse settled, trusting its rider knew what was best. The skunk paused and sniffed and that was when Ryder felt the small vibration.
He willed the skunk to move on. To get away before Mel came into sight, but the damn thing put its nose back to the leaves and started burrowing.
“Mel,” he said as loud as he dared. “There’s a skunk, honey. Slow down.”
But his warning hadn’t been soon enough. Mel burst through a pair of pine trees, startling the skunk, who in turn spun around and sprayed. Mel’s mount recoiled and shot off in the other direction, and in that brief moment, his daughter panicked. Her hands frantically tugged on reins that refused to pull back. He took off after her, and the skunk scurried off as Ryder blew through the stench.
“Dad, help!”
Ryder’s vision narrowed, his heart racing faster than the legs of his horse. Nothing prepared him for the moment of terror his daughter had expressed. Nothing prepared him for the feeling of dread if he didn’t reach her and calm her, and her horse, down. He broke through another clearing in time to see Mel’s horse darting right. He cut even harder and intersected her, forcing her mount to slow, but it reared up.
In a slow-motion moment of his heart exploding in pain, his daughter fell.
…
Peyton laughed as the paint ran down the canvas. Emily clucked from behind her. “I’ve told you at least ten times to wipe before applying.”
Peyton swiped up the rag lying beside the easel and dabbed, trying to absorb as much of her unintended trail of blue as she could. She squinted her eyes at the effect. “I think I’ll put a river there.”
“Nice artistic choice,” Emily drawled and moved on to the lady in the chair beside Peyton.
She added some brown, hoping it looked something like a tree trunk. Emily was trying her hand at a free paint class rather than the prearranged, everyone-paint-the-same-picture she’d been offering. Peyton liked order. She could follow directions and execute them. This was chaos. Not unlike her heart and brain and life at the moment.
What were Mel and Ryder up to? Melanie had asked to spend the day with him instead of painting, and Peyton hadn’t hesitated to say yes. Why? Normally she evaluated all risks and options but the yes had popped out almost on the heels of her daughter’s request.
Her daughter was forming memories. All three of them were forming them as a family. They were eating together, sharing laughs, trusting. Peyton wondered how long it would continue. Could they be a future unit despite their history?
“Peyton?”
Peyton glanced from Emily back to the canvas and swore. Orange blotches were running down the center. See, chaos. Nothing formed into any picture that made sense to her. Could she rearrange? Find the right path that allowed Mel and Ryder and her to be something that was the right shape, color, and size.
Shaking her head, she grabbed the rag and attempted to mop up her mess. All she could do right now was follow her gut and her heart. It seemed that both wanted her to take these steps with Ryder. To let a future that apparently she’d always dreamed about take shape.
For someone like her, that was the biggest leap of faith she could do next to giving her heart.
Peyton continued on through the class. Emily issuing instructions and Peyton bristling but doing her best to follow. Her friend was an excellent instructor—it was Peyton who didn’t handle being a student very well. Or not being a perfect student. She’d only ever taken one other class from Emily and that was when she’d taught the Girl Scouts. But that picture had been simple, easy strokes. This group of women were apparently expected to be Monet.
Emily congratulated them all on a job well done and Peyton laughed at the canvas in front of her. As she swirled her brush in the mason jar, the store phone rang, and Emily hurried over to it. Her friend’s face transformed from pleasant businesswoman to concerned, to outright distressed. And when Emily’s gaze pinned Peyton, a punch of dread sucked the breath from her. She dropped the brush and hurried to her friend even before Emily beckoned her.
Taking the phone, she said, “This is Peyton.”
“Peyton,” Shelby began. “There’s been an accident.”
…
Ryder held onto tiny fingers, rubbing his thumb back and forth, as the ambulance took a turn. Her other hand had been immobilized, as well as her neck and back. Mel’s eyes were closed. The thick black lashes, so like his own, forming crescents on her pale skin.
Guilt rode him hard. He should have been better prepared. He should have yelled sooner. He should have chased the skunk away. He shouldn’t have taken her to the trail.
Everything Peyton predicted came true. He wasn’t a parent. A parent would have protected, not harmed, his child.
“Daddy?”
Ryder’s gaze flew to Mel’s. The pain furrowing her brow, marring what should have been a carefree easy expression.
“My hat, daddy.”
“It’s okay, honey. I’ll get you another one.”
She tried to shake her head but was prohibited by the strap around it. “I want that one.” Mel swallowed and closed her eyes. “You gave it to me.”
Ryder’s heart broke again. His brave strong girl was lying in pain, broken, and she only cared about a hat he’d given her.
“As soon as we get you better, I’ll find it, sweetheart. I promise.” It had probably fallen off when her mare bolted.
“Promise.”
He smoothed a piece of hair. “Cross my heart.”
The ride was taking longer than he liked, but he trusted the medical personnel knew what they were doing. He’d been smart enough to grab a walkie-talkie when they set out this morning and when he’d radioed in her fall, the experienced ranch hands had responded quickly. By the time they’d brought her down, the ambulance had arrived.
Beeps sounded as the vehicle backed up to the emergency doors of the small Fly Creek hospital. Maybe he should have demanded she be taken to Cheyenne. Is that what Peyton would have done? He mentioned calling her, but his mother, who had been wringing her hands beside the ambulance, informed him she’d taken care of it.
The back doors opened, and two nurses stood ready to assist the ambo guys with lowering Mel’s gurney. He tried to hold on to her but the awkward position meant he had to release her small fingers. Her eyes flew open.
“Daddy?”
“I’m here, sweetheart. We’re just getting you inside. I’m not leaving.”
He hovered as they rolled her down a small hallway and into an alcove. A doctor came in and peppered him with questions. Questions he should have known instantly but required him to think, because he’d been her father for all of two weeks. After he relayed the accident and what had been done until the paramedics took over, the doctor ordered an x-ray, and the next thing he knew, Mel was wheeled right back out. Ryder tried to follow only to find himself stopped by a petite nurse. “You can’t go with her. Stay here and she’ll be back soon.”
The sympathy in her eyes ripped through Ryder in a burst of anger. He didn’t deserve sympathy. He deserved wrath and anger and expressions of disappointment. It was his fault.
The door at the end of hall flew open and Peyton spilled through it. Her legs unsteady as she used the wall for support. She met his startled gaze and suddenly strength and purpose infused her. She stalked toward him, pure anguish lining her face.
“What did you do to our daughter?”
“She fell off her horse. There—”
“How could you? Were you even paying attention or were you being a playmate again? A friend rather than a parent.”
Ryder let Peyton’s harsh words and accusations flow over him. It was the least he deserved. He didn’t correct her. Didn’t plead his case, because there wasn’t one. Everything boiled down to the fact that their daughter got hurt on his watch.
Eventually she deflated and tears streamed down her cheeks. He reached for her and she recoiled. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
She spun around and went back through the door. Presumably in search of Mel.
Ryder sank to the floor, leaning against the stark hospital wall. He’d failed. Everyone and everything. Peyton had asked him to take care of Mel and he hadn’t. His father’s expectations had never been met. Even his mother seemed to view him differently.
And Mel? She’d wanted a father. A day of fun and he hadn’t even delivered on that.
The pale-green walls closed in on him. He lurched up off the floor and staggered toward the exit. He needed to get away. The failures pressing on his chest were making breathing impossible. Bursting through the door into the cool sunshine, he ran into his mother.
“Ryder? What’s wrong? Is it Mel?” Tears coursed down the weathered cheeks.
He’d failed her, too.
“Can I have your keys?”
She opened her mouth.
“Please.” The rawness of his voice shocked even him. She handed the clinking metal over to him and he hurried to her dually like the life preserver it was.
He didn’t stop until he reached the shores of Sky Lake.
The lake opened up in front of him, mocking him with its sparkling surface and serene glass top. How had he gotten to this point? He’d returned to his home to find everything upside down and nothing turning out the way he’d planned.
His triumphant return, or, more specifically, his moment to show his dad what he’d become, was a joke. His father hated him more now than when he’d left ten years ago. Mitchum had refused to even look at the blueprints on the cabins or offer any suggestions.
The woman he loved, the mother of his child, couldn’t look at him without disappointment and betrayal. He’d failed her ten years ago when he left her to handle Melanie on her own. And he failed her today by not ensuring Mel’s safety. Her trust was fragile, and he had shattered it.
He failed his mother all those years ago by leaving her to worry and wonder and deal with Mitchum on her own and he’d failed her in moving home, his only motive to show his father just how wrong he was.
Hammering echoed across the lake and he could just make out the beginning footprint of the first cabin. Had he failed Sky Lake, too? Was this idea making it something it was never meant to be?
Ryder stepped closer to the shore and picked up a rock. It was thin and smooth—perfect for skipping. He let it fly, and the beautiful reflective surface broke with ripples left by the hard movement.
That was him. Ruffling the peacefulness that Sky Lake had developed in his absence.
He picked up another.
“Do you think of anyone but yourself?”
He hadn’t heard his father approach but the ice-cold hatred pouring through the accusation hardened what little bit of a heart he had left.
“You destroy everything you come in contact with. Today that included your daughter. Haven’t you done enough? Leave. Go back to whatever you’ve done these last years and let us be. These cabins are ruining Sky Lake and your presence is ruining us.”
Ryder smoothed his thumb over the river rock in his palm. He turned to look at the man who helped give him life. Who had loved him at one time but had turned cold in the blink of an eye with no rhyme or reason. What he saw on the sun worn face froze his thoughts and rearranged them into something that made even less sense than before.
“What happened to you, Dad? What happened to Sky Lake?”
The man looked desperate, tired. He looked like Ryder felt. Drowning in a sea of emotions with no life preserver. He’d long thought that emotions beyond hate were something Mitchum Marks no longer had.
“Nothing happened to me and the only thing happening to Sky Lake is you.” Ryder clenched the rock, the pressure building in his palm and giving his pain a focus. There was nothing left to say to a man who didn’t care. “I’m wasting my breath. You don’t care for anyone or anything.”
His father turned and left. His old man moved slower, each step more hesitant before taking another. Hard work took its toll on a body, but this was more. This was emotional as well as physical.
Not that anything his father did or didn’t say changed anything. Ryder was still a failure, and to be honest his father was probably right about one thing. It would be best if he left.