Redwood Bend (Virgin River #18)(79)

Cherise had replied, “I should call my lawyer…”

And Adele had said, “Have your lawyer call my lawyer. You know I only want Dylan. Whatever you want is undoubtedly easier.”

He remembered like it was yesterday.

Dylan was pulled out of his concrete world where everything was about him and taken to what seemed, at first glance, a jungle. An amazing, beautiful, astonishing wilderness, but still… Nothing in those suitcases worked for him so some grizzled old ranch hand who worked on the property drove him in an old pickup truck to the next big town to buy Wranglers, what he called a proper belt, some boots and most important, underwear that wouldn’t embarrass him in the high school boy’s locker room.

Dylan chuckled silently. In Los Angeles he had to have designer boxers, silk. In Payne he couldn’t drop his drawers unless he wore tightie whities. Really cheap tightie whities.

Ham washed his new clothes a dozen times so they wouldn’t look new. “One pair o’ new ain’t a bad thing,” he had said. “All new’ll prolly get you beat up. Get out in the barn with those boots—work ’em over. And while you’re scuffing ’em up, muck them stalls.”

“Great,” Dylan remembered saying. And he had caressed his face. Get beat up? His primary job was to keep himself ready for the camera. If he was always ready to perform, he could have any other thing he wanted. In. The. World.

He’d been an actor since the age of six, starting with commercials, so he acted like a Montana kid in worn jeans, scuffed boots and really bad underwear. And while he was acting, he blended. While he blended, he started to like where he was—but he kept that to himself for as long as possible.

He had noticed things, however. It had been early spring when Adele snatched him and before he’d been in Montana long his shoulders had grown bulky from pitching hay and mucking stalls in the barn; his face had tanned and his hair was streaked from the sun, his Wranglers were worn in the knees and butt and he’d seen the shy appearance of new babies around his property—fawns, lambs, one foal, a couple of calves, cubs.

And old concrete jungle superstar Dylan Childress began to fall in love with the country, with nature.

The fawn at the edge of the clearing came into full view; the doe behind him was still half-hidden in the trees. And Dylan heard rustling in the kitchen. He put his coffee on the porch floor beside his chair and, moving slowly and quietly, peeked in the cabin. Andy was rooting around in the refrigerator.

“Psst,” Dylan whispered. When Andy looked at him he put a finger to his lips, warning him to be quiet. Then he crooked a finger for Andy to come to him. He very quietly led Andy to the porch. He sat down and brought Andy to stand between his legs and pointed toward the deer. “Look,” he whispered.

Andy let out a little excited gasp.

“Mother and child,” Dylan whispered. “The kid’s getting pretty big. You should see ’em when they’re brand-new, when they can hardly stand up.”

“He looks little to me…”

Dylan chuckled softly. “He’s doubled in size since he was born, probably last spring. He’ll be on his own before long, but they’ll have to move down the mountain where it’s warmer before the snow comes. I used to love the spring at home—not just because the weather got nicer but because… Look,” he said as more deer became visible. “There are more.”

“Home?” Andy asked.

“I live in Montana,” Dylan said. “It’s kind of like here—mountains, woods, wildlife. I have a couple of horses, some chickens, some cows and goats, a mean old bull. You’d like it.”

“I never been on a horse,” Andy said.

“You’re kidding me!”

Andy shook his head. “Or on a cow,” he added.

“Well, we don’t ride cows, we just milk ’em. I only have a couple milk cows and I don’t even know exactly why. Because they’re breeders, I guess.” Andy gave Dylan a totally perplexed look and Dylan laughed. “They have calves. I sell the calves.”

“Why?” Andy asked.

He delayed his answer. “We don’t want to talk about that… The chickens lay eggs—that’s fun. I eat a few, sell the rest. They’re trouble, though. Wildlife want to eat the chickens and keeping them safe can be a pain. So, I have a couple of barn dogs.”

“I never had a dog,” Andy said.

“Kid, I think you’ve been deprived,” he said with a laugh.

“You going home, Dylan?”

“You ready for me to go home?” he asked, giving the twin a little squeeze.

Andy shook his head. “Wish’t I could ride a horse,” he said.

“You ever been on a plane?” Dylan asked.

Andy nodded vigorously. “Two times. Moving away, moving back. It was big. And we had to be still and quiet.”

“Never been on a little plane, huh?”

“Nope. At Disney I was on a elephant…”

“Was it pink? Because if you were on a pink elephant, maybe you should keep that to yourself.”

“You ain’t going home, are you, Dylan?”

“I’m in no big hurry,” Dylan said. “I get a kick out of you and Mitch. And I bet you get a kick out of me.”

There were now five deer in the clearing. Dylan pulled Andy onto his lap. “I do have to think about getting home one of these days,” he said, half to Andy and half to himself.