“It’s okay. It’s old news and not many people even remember that we aren’t biologically Ryans,” Cody said. “Lucas and I were taken away from our parents because they were on drugs. They got sent away and we were put into foster care. I don’t remember anything about them. I was only two and Lucas was just a few weeks old when all that happened. Later, they died in prison, and we went to live on Sunflower Ranch. After a few months, Sonny and Pearl adopted us, and we had a good life. I couldn’t have asked for better parents.”
“And then you’ve got Jesse and Addy and their daughter, Mia, plus the twins they’ve just adopted. I’m jealous of all those folks in your life, Cody,” Stevie admitted. “I guess I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. I’ve been wallowing in a pity pool when I should be remembering the good times.”
“Grief will do that to you,” Cody said.
“I never knew that you Ryan guys weren’t all three full-blood brothers,” Stevie said.
“I love my brothers, both of them equally, even though Lucas is my only blood brother,” Cody said, “but there were lots of times when I would have gladly thrown them out in the yard if I could have been an only child.”
“I would have taken them in to be my brothers if you had.” Stevie pointed to the window. “Look, it’s stopped snowing.”
“And now, it’s sleeting and spitting freezing rain. The thermometer hanging right beside the barn door says that it’s twenty-six degrees. That means ice under the snow and more on top of it.”
“And everyone thinks that Texas is a hot, dry place,” Stevie said.
“If they want hot and dry, they should spend six months in central Africa, but there was one thing that was definitely better there than here,” he said.
Stevie turned to face him. “And that would be?”
“The coffee was a helluva lot better,” he answered with a broad smile.
“What we need is a nice pot and a decent can of coffee.” She set about eating her breakfast, and when she finished, she laid the bone from her steak on the floor. The kittens came out from behind the stove and pounced on it, growling and slapping at each other.
“They are entertaining but look at Dixie.” Stevie nodded toward the cria.
“Poor little thing probably wonders why her siblings are carrying on over a bone.” Cody finished off his food and gave the kittens his steak bone also.
“If we had a third one, they could each have one,” Stevie said.
Cody shook his head. “Nope, that’s not the way it works. Three bones. Three siblings. They’ll all want the biggest one or the one with the most meat still on it.”
Stevie reached out a hand. “Give me your pocketknife and plate. You cooked breakfast. I’ll wash dishes.”
He handed her the knife and said, “Thanks, but bring it back open.”
“Hey, I was raised in the same area as you, even if we lived in town and not on a ranch. I know it’s bad luck to give a knife back to someone closed if he or she gave it to you open.”
Cody held up a hand, a half inch between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m just a little superstitious.”
“Me too,” Stevie said. “I’ll give it back to you just like it is, only cleaner.”
Maybe, she thought, being stranded with Cody isn’t so bad after all.
Chapter Five
Shotgun blasts, or was it dynamite, sounded all around Stevie when she awoke the next morning. She blinked against the blinding sun rays coming through the window, wondering for a few minutes why someone was shooting a gun in the middle of town, especially so close to a school. She popped up in bed and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and looked around at the strange room, and her first thought was that she’d been kidnapped.
Then the whole thing with the winter storm came back to her in a flash. She was in Max’s barn with Cody Ryan. Those weren’t gunshots but Mother Nature pruning trees, and the schools would definitely be closed due to bad weather. She checked her watch—twenty minutes until Dixie needed to be fed.
“I want a warm shower, but I need coffee,” she whined under her breath as she wiggled the kinks from her neck.
“Run!” Cody muttered in his sleep and began to flail around. “To the cave,” he said as his legs twitched even more. “Go! Don’t look back!”
She leaned over to get a better look at him in time to see him reach out and grab Dolly. He cradled the cat tightly against his chest and said, “I’ll carry you. Everything will be all right. Hang on, Dineo. It’ll be over soon, and we’ll patch you up.” Then he sat up, and his eyes popped wide open. Tears rolled down his unshaven cheeks when he looked down at the wiggling cat in his arms. “I’m so sorry, son. I’m so sorry.”
Stevie slung her legs over the side of the sofa bed and touched him gently on the shoulder. “Wake up, Cody. You’re dreaming.”
He blinked several times, and his frown deepened the beginnings of crow’s-feet around his eyes. Then he freed the cat and wiped his wet cheeks with the back of his hand.
“Are you all right?” Stevie asked.
“Just a nightmare,” he said.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked.
“Nope,” he answered as he got to his feet and headed to the bathroom.
She hadn’t been around anyone with PTSD, but she’d heard it was common among soldiers. Evidently, from the way Cody was behaving, he had a bit of it, and a young friend of his somewhere named Dineo had died. From the nightmares, he wasn’t over the death of his friend, and Stevie wondered how old the boy had been.
While he was in the bathroom, she went to the refrigerator and brought out a package of hamburger. Hash wouldn’t be a traditional breakfast, but it would keep them from starving. Her mouth watered when she thought about a big stack of pancakes covered with melted butter and maple syrup. That could very well be her first big meal when she and Cody were rescued. She tossed the burger in the skillet and set it on the stove, then made Dixie a bottle of alpaca formula and fed it to her. The cria left a little that time around, so Stevie poured it into the one bowl they had and set it down for the kittens, who fought over it—as usual.
Stevie thought of what Cody had said about siblings having arguments. She didn’t care if siblings fought. If she ever got to have a family, she fully intended to have a houseful of kids.
Cody finally came out of the bathroom and sniffed the air. “That doesn’t smell like bacon and eggs or sausage gravy.”
He wouldn’t make a very good poker player, not when he couldn’t hide anything on his face. His expression told Stevie that the nightmare had brought on painful memories.
“It’s hash for breakfast because we’re working with what we have. If you want to run out to the chicken house and gather up some eggs and go out to the smokehouse and bring in a slab of bacon, I’ll be glad to make a traditional breakfast.” She tried to lighten the heavy mood in the room.
He just shrugged and turned to stare out the window.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Thanks for making breakfast.”