The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(53)

“I wouldn’t ask for myself,” Trace began. “But she’s just a kid. She’s had it rough enough. I don’t know much about being a father, but I’m committed to doing the best by her that I can.” He stared hard at Ty, the struggle he was going through evident in every line of his weathered face. “I need money. For her.”

Ty nodded. No doubt Trace did need money. Ty would guess his brother was barely eking out a living. Selling the small, by Wyoming standards, ranch in this economy probably wouldn’t even pay off the mortgage. “How much?”

“She needs to be in preschool. She’s bright, but she’s had it tough. Her mother, well, she was an addict…”

“What kind of addict?” And dear God let it not be heroin.

“Cocaine, pills. She was sent to prison for dealing. She got fifteen years.”

The state was hard on drug dealers, but fifteen years meant it was a whole lot of dope.

“Preschool should be doable, Trace. But you didn’t ask me here to lend you money for preschool.”

Trace shook his head as his hands dug into the worn pockets of his jeans. “This ain’t easy, Ty.”

He felt a stab of sympathy. Trace had always had enough pride to fill a 120-foot water tower. “I expect it’s not. But we do what we have to do. You’ve got a child to take care of. I’ve got a niece to protect. She’s a Martin, and we need to do right by her. Both of us. Tell me what you need.”

“I guess you think I should sell the ranch. Move into town.”

There it was. “A different time, maybe. But truthfully, you wouldn’t get much for it now. Developers don’t have the money to pick up new projects on this small amount of acreage. Could change in a few years. But not now.” Besides, what would Trace do in town? The best he could hope for was to hire on with another ranch, if another was hiring, and wages wouldn’t be much better, probably, than what he could scratch out here.

A spark of hope jumped into his brother’s eyes.

“Just get it out, Trace. It will be painful, but you’ll live.”

“I need a loan.” Trace named a five-figure amount. “I need to build back the herd after the drought last year. I need to hire a housekeeper to mind Delanie when she’s not in school and I’m out on the range. I need to get her into the preschool in town so she’s ready for kindergarten next year. And I need a lawyer who can assure that I can keep her. Now and, God forbid, if her mother ever gets paroled.” His eyes turned flinty. “I’m not giving her back. She’s been damaged enough.”

“I can loan the money, Trace. That’s never been the issue. You cleaning up your act, which it appears you’ve done, has been the issue. As well as recognizing I’m not the enemy just because I’ve had opportunities to better myself and took them.”

Trace scowled. “No matter that you think you're better than those of us who work with our hands to make a living.”

“Spin it however it makes you feel better, brother.” Ty wouldn’t take the bait. Not this time. Not with a child at risk. “But tell me about Delanie and this damage stuff. How has she been damaged?”

Trace closed his eyes and then opened them as if the hurt cut deep. “She doesn’t trust anyone, doesn’t trust me. She says her mommy told her not to let a man touch her because they’ll do bad things and that she’s not supposed to take anything from anyone and she’s never to go anywhere with a man. It’s been a hell of a few weeks.”

Trace had a haunted look as he spoke.

“The mother was probably trying to protect her from the creeps she hung around with.”

“Thing is…I don’t know if it worked. And that’s killing me just as much as Delanie’s distrust of me.” Trace shook his head. “I need to get her some help…and learn how to deal with this. If I’d known, I’d have sued for custody from the start.”

Except four years ago, Trace might not have been able to make his case. He’d never gotten in serious trouble with the law, but he had hung around with guys who had. He’d been an alcoholic, so bad he had to go through rehab. How much drugs had been part of it, Ty never knew. People may not think drugs made it into ranch country, but no community was immune. Trace had darn near bankrupted the farm during that phase of his life, hence the mortgage. Ty’s interference then hadn’t been welcomed, but it had been necessary. And Trace resented it to this day and probably forever. The fact he was actually asking for Ty’s help now was a testament to how much he was committed to making a good life for Delanie. And Ty had to admire him for swallowing some of that Martin pride for the girl’s sake.

“It will take me a few weeks to liquidate some things, but I can set up an account for you to draw on. I can also arrange for a good family-court lawyer for you. I know one of the state judges for that court. And he should be able to direct me to a professional who deals with this sort of thing.”

Trace nodded.

It wasn’t much in the way of thanks, but then Ty didn’t really expect any.

When Ty stepped into the living room, there was Mandy, sitting cross-legged on the floor, providing the voice for the doll she held in her hand. Little Delanie, standing, was telling the baby doll that it was bed time and she mustn’t sleep in anyone else’s bed.