Every Last Look

by Christa Wick

  “A cabin with a wood stove is no small difference between a tent come winter,” I growled, my hand curling a little tighter around Quinn’s shoulder as I thought of how the last third of her ninety days would stretch deep into winter.

  “Tell that to the Cheyenne and the Kootenai,” Cross countered.

  The man waved his hand in the air like everything he had just said was mere errata.

  “The point being, not fulfilling the demands of the will with the hope of successfully challenging it could be deemed a failure to perform. You wouldn’t get a do-over, Miss Whitaker. Even if you did, you’d be well into winter and still wouldn’t have a cabin. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  I wanted to reach down the table and shake the man’s arrogant tone straight out of him. Instead, I took a deep breath and practiced holding it.

  “The only thing open to negotiation,” Cross continued. “Is how we determine that Miss Whitaker is there overnight until the cell tower is back up. The funds Mr. Carey provided for administration of his estate will not cover in-person visits even a few times a week for ninety days, let alone twice a day. Now, if you have funds, Miss Whitaker, for me to contract a service?”

  Even before Quinn scratched out a “no,” I felt her stiffen and knew what her answer would be. Heck, I'd known from the tears she had cried sitting out on her tailgate after midnight that her resources were stretched thin or non-existent.

  “Does it have to be some service?” Mama asked. “Could someone take it upon themselves to check twice a day and provide an affidavit under penalty of perjury that they witnessed Quinn there at the appointed times?”

  “I’d have to clear it with the probate judge, same for missing this morning’s check in.”

  Seeing the slow shake of Quinn’s head, I wanted to turn the woman in her seat and kiss her worries away. She was probably thinking she didn’t know anyone who was just going to show up for free two times a day, ninety days straight.

  “That’s fine,” I said before Quinn could throw in the towel. “When you talk to the judge, tell him I’ll be there at those times barring jump duty. My brother Sutton will fill in during those periods. And we’ll sign whatever affidavits are needed.”

  Quinn swiveled her head slowly in my direction, her gaze wide.

  Grinning, I slid her a wink. “You didn’t think I was going to leave a Hollywood girl alone in the woods, did you?”

  6

  Quinn

  Shutting the front door on the attorney three hours later, Lindy Turk rolled her eyes as she braced her back against the wall. Looking at Barrett and me, she grimaced.

  “Think I need to lock it?”

  Barrett cleared his throat. “Cross is too busy scurrying back to his office so he can transfer the money from the estate’s account to his own for today’s hours of ‘service.’”

  “If he’s going to bill the estate for time spent sitting around my library, scrolling through his phone and drinking my coffee while he waited for the judge’s clerk to call back,” Lindy huffed. “I should send him a bill!”

  Her expression slid from indignant to disappointed.

  “If the two of you are spending the night out in that neck of the woods, you have a lot of running around to do before the sun goes down. You still don’t have a second truck, for starters.” She patted Barrett’s arm. “Sage had yours towed like you asked, but Kyle said it will be at least a few weeks for a repair between sourcing the part and shipping.”

  Walking past them in the entry hall, Lindy crooked her finger for Barrett and me to follow.

  “We’ll have to save the reminiscing for Sunday dinner,” she said, throwing a warm smile over her shoulder at me. “I’ll get Aunt Dotty down. She’ll have a lot more pictures of Jester. They’re of the same age. And I’m sure almost everyone has a story to share about him, too.”

  My feet dragged as we walked through a massive dining room. The table that stretched from almost one end of the room to the other was twice as long as the library’s and, like the table upstairs, seemed to have had its top piece cut from a single tree.

  Through the contraction of muscles in my chest, I felt layers of steel coiling around my heart. The Turks were a wealthy family. I was nothing more than a charity case to these people, their selection of me as a beneficiary tied to their fondness of my dead relative.

  “It’s a beauty, isn’t it?” Barrett asked, catching my gaze on the table. “Mama’s daddy cut and milled the tree. I remember trying to help plane it when I was about the same age as Leah. Of course, my older brothers helped granddad and they only credit me when they find a flaw.”

  Listening to the way Barrett’s voice deepened as he thought of a past surrounded by his family, I knew I could easily fall in love with the man. Maybe part of me already had. That’s why the steel wall sprang up so quickly.

  For the next ninety days, I would walk a thin line, constantly balancing between preserving the Turks’ generosity and protecting my heart.

  “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” I answered, looking at him and not the table or any other part of the room.

  Smiling, Barrett wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me into a kitchen that was every bit as impressive as the dining room.

  “It used to be,” Lindy said, pulling a key and fob from a larger ring. “That it was more than family at the table. The single ranch hands would supper with us, especially on Sundays. That’s why there’s at least two of every appliance in here.”

  She handed the key and fob to her son.

  “Nowadays, a lot more of the ranch hands are married and the single ones would rather microwave and eat on paper plates than help with the cooking and cleaning.”

  “Crazy,” Barrett chimed in. “You haven’t eaten until you’ve had Mama’s cooking.”

  With a grin and a raised finger, Lindy moved over to the oven, its temperature set to warm.

  “Speaking of which, I started this warming when I popped out of the library. I know the two of you have a lot to prepare, but you can have a nice warm meal before you head out. I also pulled the ice chest from the utility closet. I’ll get some snacks and sandwiches in there for your dinner and breakfast.”

  “This is wonderful,” I said as Lindy slid two fat slices of lasagna onto plates. “I was starting to get a little famished. Surprising how much energy can go into watching Mr. Cross stare at his phone for three hours.”

  “Nerves, dear,” Lindy said. “But the worst of it is over. The rest is just learning to live on the land. And you’ve only got to be there overnight. You come and keep me company as many days as you want.”

  I might have burst into tears at the woman’s generosity if Leah hadn’t marched in and tugged on her grandmother’s sleeve with a very important announcement.

  “Leah hungry, too.”

  Driving separate vehicles, Barrett and I agreed to meet at the hangar and then drive in tandem the rest of the way to Jester’s property. En route to the landing strip, Barrett would pick up a few items to make our overnight stay easier. I used the time to buy some personal supplies at the truck stop and check my email before I lost cellular services for the night.

  Seeing the most recent message, I regretted pulling the phone from my pocket.

  You can’t hide from me, FAT LOSER.

  I am ONE with the machine.

  Nope, I thought, thumbing through to my contacts list and putting a block on my half-sister Naomi’s number. Still a few months short of seventeen, the teenager had twice found a way to rip my world apart. I wouldn’t give her a chance to ruin Montana, too. Heaven forbid Naomi found out about Jester specifically leaving her and our mother out of the will. Little sis would kick into Death Angel Overdrive or whatever she called it.

  It hurt more than anything to close the door on the possibility of having a real family, but it was time to say goodbye to everyone I knew in L.A. if I wanted to survive.

  Lowering the window, I headed for the hangar, the
wind kissing my face.

  An hour later, I spotted Barrett with his borrowed truck parked near the road, the vehicle nose out like he had already been to the hangar and turned around. Braking, I let him pull out in front of me.

  Once we turned off the county road and onto my uncle’s property, both vehicles moved at a crawl. The sun had set. What little bit of twilight still clung to the sky couldn’t penetrate the trees that had survived the fire.

  In my mind, the conflagration had taken a path that seemed aimed solely at keeping me from having someplace to stay and a way to report to the attorney. But Barrett explained there were some natural barriers that kept the fire from jumping across to destroy most of my land. I was blessed, he told me, with two streams running through the property and a spring fed pond. Pinned in between the streams, the fire had rushed up one side of the mountain then stalled when it came to the wide band of exposed rock that bordered the pond.

  Reaching the naked hilltop, I parked the truck but kept my lights on. There was nothing to see but ashes, a cast iron stove and a few other scraps of metal with a melting point higher than what the fire had reached.

  Barrett pulled the ice chest and several pieces of camping equipment from his truck.

  “Despite the fire, this is the best spot on the property to rebuild. But you’ll want to add in some fast-growing trees to shelter against the wind in winter. You can also add in a fire break by bringing in some rocks and gravel.”

  Watching him unfold the tent, my brows shot up, but I didn’t say anything about its size. Big as Barrett was, I didn’t think he could fit in it, even if he was sheltering alone. I wasn’t sure I would fit in it, either.

  Grabbing a sleeping bag, he unrolled it in the tent then spread the second one alongside a ring of rocks around a small pit.

  “I brought some wood from my pile so we wouldn’t have to source any in the dark,” he said.

  I peeked into the back of his truck, kicking myself for not checking if there was anything he needed help with.

  Seeing half a dozen big logs and an armful of small branches, I pulled one log out and took it over to the pit. Returning to the truck, I passed Barrett carrying the three biggest logs in his arms. I pulled the remaining two logs to the side of the truck, cradled one in my arm then tried to pick up the second with my free hand.

  Over the sound of my grunting, I heard Barrett chuckle, then his broad chest slid against my back as he reached down the length of my arm and took the last log.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I admonished when he also tried to take the log I cradled. “I have to learn how to carry my weight out here.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Back at the truck, he lifted out a canvas camping chair, handed it to me then carried its twin over to the fire pit after piling the branches across its seat.

  “Why don’t you see what Mama put in the cooler for us while I get a fire going.”

  “That lasagna was so good,” I groaned. “I don’t suppose she’s figured out how to put it in sandwich form.”

  “I tried that once,” he admitted. “It didn’t turn out like you might think it would.”

  Laughing, I pulled out a water and handed it to him.

  “Actually, it probably did turn out like I think it would. A delicious mess.”

  The fire blazed to life. I sniffed the air, wondering if he had sprayed some kind of lighter fluid on the wood. Detecting no sign of an accelerant, I leaned forward for a better look at how he had piled the branches around the first log.

  “Is it the structure that made it catch so fast?”

  “Nope.” He pulled out a plastic bag I hadn’t noticed before. It was full of thick dust particles. “I save the dust when I’m cutting up logs. Have to be careful, though, or you’ll lose your eyebrows.”

  “Noted.” I settled into the chair and handed him a wrapped sandwich.

  “Let’s see, potato salad.” I handed Barrett a fork and one of two serving sized containers with identical contents. “And some baked beans. Breakfast is fruit and some instant oatmeal cups.”

  “With six kids, Mama’s a regular field marshal.”

  “Tell me about them,” I said, taking a bite of the sandwich, my taste buds going wild over the flavor of home cooked roast beef.

  Between bites, Barrett told me about his siblings. He started with his sister Dawn, his voice rough as he skimmed past her death the year before. Then he moved on to Adler, the oldest, and his wife Sage, who I had already met. Adler ran the ranch and had been a bona fide rodeo star before that, Barrett stated with pride. Walker ran the timber side of the family business. Everybody joked that he practically lived in the trees before he cut them down because it was hard during cutting season to peel him away from work. Like Adler, Walker was recently married. Then there were the twins, Sutton and Emerson. Emerson, the younger of the two, had been back east working for the FBI. He was still in the FBI but had gotten a promotion and was running one of the satellite offices in Montana. No chance, Barrett lamented, that his little brother was home for good.

  “Too ambitious,” he told me. “And no taste for ranching or timber.”

  “And Sutton?” I yawned as I asked about the other twin. I tried to hide it behind my hand, but it contorted my entire face.

  “Maybe we save him for tomorrow and you crawl into your sleeping bag inside the tent.”

  I frowned. I had known from the beginning when I saw the separate bag by the fire that Barrett was giving me the tent. I hadn’t liked the idea then and I didn’t like it now.

  “It’s not right—”

  “We go for days sleeping in the woods,” he interrupted. “We don’t strap tents or sleeping bags to our jumpsuits. So don’t worry about me. Having a bag is like a night at the Hilton.”

  “Okay,” I relented, crawling backward into the tent.

  Leaving the flap up, I watched him put another log on the fire and crawl into his sleeping bag. After a few seconds, he zipped it up to his chest.

  Even in the dark, with just the fire lighting his body, I liked watching him move. I didn’t think anyone that big could be so graceful or quiet settling into place.

  Looking over, Barrett caught me staring.

  “Thank you,” I said, my hand reaching out to pat his arm. “I can’t put into words how grateful I am for everything you’ve done. If the cell tower was up and I was out here alone this first night, I would be in my truck, a huddled mess spooking at every noise.”

  I patted his arm again, this time my hand resting against his flesh instead of moving away.

  “Being around someone so brave makes me feel braver.”

  “You’re plenty brave on your own, Quinn.”

  I could hear the sincerity in his voice, but I scoffed anyway.

  “Don’t you go snorting at me, Miss Whitaker,” he teased. “You set out on an adventure from California to Montana, leaving people you knew.”

  “Really, that’s not—”

  “I’m an expert on bravery.” He twisted in his sleeping bag until he was propped up on his forearms, one hand capturing mine. “I learned to jump out of the planes in the Army. I met a lot of brave men in the years I served in the military and on smokejumper teams. I witnessed it in my brothers, too. Sutton has a purple heart. Emerson hunts terrorists. Walker basically plays dodgeball with trees that weigh as much as a train. Adler not only risked his life in the rodeo, but it’s on his shoulders whether or not the ranch flourishes or fails. Same goes for Walker with the timber business.”

  His fingers softly stroked the back of my hand, the gesture and sensation vibrating through me.

  “But, one thing is for certain, if you’re going to stay up here on your own, you need to learn how to shoot. Unless you know how already?”

  “I don’t,” I answered. “There were never any guns around my house growing up—which is a good thing.”

  I stiffened, hoping Barrett didn’t feel the change and couldn’t read my expression in the firelight.

/>   “Why’s that?”

  My mouth flattened. If I answered him, I would be talking about people who weren’t there to defend themselves. It didn’t matter that they had no defense. I didn’t want Barrett to see me as some kind of victim to take pity on. Lots of people had mean, crazy mothers and siblings.

  Barrett squeezed my hand.

  “I have a feeling that people might have been treating you wrong most of your life. I hope one day you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me about it.”

  “I didn’t know big burly guys were allowed to have a sensitive side,” I teased before his kindness could turn me into a waterfall.

  “Hard shell, gooey interior,” he joked back. “A big part of it is from growing up around Dawn. You can imagine being the only girl surrounded by five brothers. She could hold her own with any one of us, but we weren’t above ganging up when we thought she was getting special treatment as the only girl, like telling her she was adopted…”

  Letting go of my hand, he swiped at his jaw before adding another log to the fire. When he settled back in place, he scooped my hand into his once more.

  “When you start to get grown and you make your little sister cry for the first time, I mean really, really cry—it’s like getting gored by a bull.”

  “Wait, you’ve been gored by a bull?”

  “Ah, well…sort of.”

  I could tell by Barrett’s voice that he was blushing. Even though the glow of the fire on his face was pure magic, I wished I was looking at him in daylight.

  Sitting up, Barrett lifted just the side of his shirt then guided my fingers to where there was a sharp dip in his skin right below the edge of the bottom rib.

  “Fortunately there’s not much useful there in terms of organs. And the horn didn’t go in but a few inches.”