by Dana Mentink
“That’s the only reason? You have suitable cowboy skills?” With anyone else she would never have engaged in such a personal conversation, but with Mitch, it felt different. It felt...safe.
She gave him time to find the answer.
“Here it’s...the way things should be. There’s dignity and respect for people and animals. Ranchers don’t threaten to use lawyers in place of an honest conversation and handshake. There’s honor in that.”
“And there’s honor in you,” she said before she stopped herself.
He went quiet, studying his boots. Her cheeks burned as she stood shoulder to shoulder with him, this ally, this stalwart rock of a man whom her prayers told her she could trust. Being near him made her question herself, her ideas, her feelings. It was dangerous, she thought, yet she did not want to walk away, not yet.
“I haven’t been a good man, or a kind man, but I’m gonna try and be better.” He ignored a moth that flitted past. “So I can help you and Ben.”
In the distance the stars began to glimmer as the sea-scented fog rolled in low along the coast. She tipped her face upward. “You know, I haven’t looked up at the stars in ages. I guess when you’re running, you’re always looking just ahead.” The spangle of constellations still visible above the fog took her breath away. “Magnificent.”
He nodded, and she realized he was looking at her. The dusk stripped away the hardness from his features and gentled him, this giant of a man. Again she felt the reckless desire to share what was on her heart. “I don’t know how this will turn out, Mitch, or why God put us together here in the middle of this wild place, but I am grateful that He did.”
He turned to her then. His hand moved slowly, wonderingly as he traced the contours of her face with his calloused fingers. “I...” He looked at her a moment longer.
Whip up or whoa? her heart whispered as he moved closer, his mouth so close, his eyes so intense. Should she let her feelings step over the line past ally to something more? Or retreat behind the lonely walls she’d built to protect herself and Ben?
His lips twitched, and he fit his mouth to hers, gently, tenderly, and her heart broke into a million flecks of golden light. In that one connection, she felt what it must be like to trust, to be part of a healthy, pure love, a connection so sweet she did not know where he ended and she began.
Until panic crept in.
Trust and connection...like she thought she’d had with Wade.
Mitch was attracted to her, undoubtedly, like she to him. Why? Was it something in her that drew the men from the Whitehorse family? Did Mitch see in her a pretty face that he wanted to own, to mold, to control, like Wade had? Her brain said no, but her heart pounded in disagreement.
Panic overwhelmed her, and she pulled away so fast she stumbled. He reached and held her steady, and they both struggled to catch their breath.
“Did I...? I mean...” he mumbled.
“It was a mistake, that’s all,” she panted. “Just forget it.”
He blinked at her with those black eyes, so unlike Wade’s that she could almost convince herself they weren’t brothers. Almost.
“Didn’t feel like a mistake to me,” he said quietly.
“I’m...I’m going to go check on Ben.” Turning on her heel, she ran back into the shelter of the ranch house.
SEVENTEEN
He wanted to apologize the next morning after he’d listened to Aunt Ginny’s Sunday Bible class, the one she insisted on teaching for the early-shift cowboys who didn’t attend church. At least, an apology was what he figured he should do, but that kiss, the one he’d shared with Jane, felt way more right than wrong. He didn’t regret it one bit, but clearly it had felt like a mistake to Jane. And why wouldn’t it? The list was long, he thought bitterly.
She’d been married to his monster of a brother.
Her life and her son’s were in danger.
She could not trust herself and her own instincts.
He’d shown her the same unjust judgment as everybody else until recently.
All great reasons why he should not have sought that kiss, and definitely why he should not ever seek one from her again. He tried to focus on his research, an hour stolen between checking the fence line and helping Liam repair the irrigation to the southernmost pasture. He’d asked Helen to pick up a rocking chair at the flea market, and he set about painting it, imagining Jane cuddling with Ben, if Mitch ever had the courage to give it to her now. Even with the distractions, his police brain would not shut down. Three things... Wade needed three things to survive: money, shelter, communication. Where was he getting it? Fugitives typically went to family members, but that wasn’t going to help in this case. Friends? He didn’t think Wade had any. The only girlfriend he’d known about was Tanya, the daughter of the gas station owner, but Mitch could not find her via any of his research. He no longer had access to the vast police databases. He didn’t want to contact Foley, but he could not think of any other choices.
Foley listened without interrupting. “What’s the girl’s name?”
“Tanya Alder.”
He huffed. “And you tried to find her, didn’t you?” He laughed. “Not so easy now that you’re on the civilian side. We’ll track her down. Don’t worry.”
Mitch ground his teeth. He did not want to work with Foley, but there was no getting around it. “I’m sure Danny told you that Bette Whipple left a number for Jane.”
“Has she called her?”
“Not yet.”
“We found her apartment in SoCal pretty easily, but she’s not there. We left a message with her apartment manager for her to call us. Dumb to reach out to Jane.”
“She’s scared.”
“But she’s contacting the one person who Wade wants more than anything. That makes her a target, too. Bad judgment.”
“Like I said, she’s scared. What have you got on Wade?”
“Nothing I’m going to share with you, other than my people are on it.”
He hadn’t expected anything in return, especially not from Foley, and none of his other former colleagues would answer his calls. Again, not unexpected.
“I know you don’t want to, Mitch, but keep me posted.”
He hung up and saddled Rosie, hoping the hard physical ranch duty would knock something loose in his brain. When the job was done, he returned to the house.
Jane finally emerged around lunchtime, fixing Ben a plate with a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk, nothing for herself. Her focus was on her son, avoiding any eye contact with Mitch. He finally caught her elbow as she headed to the kitchen to help wash the dishes.
“We need to talk.” He saw a flash of panic in her eyes. “About when to call Bette.”
She relaxed a fraction. “Oh. Okay. As soon as possible, I think. I’m worried about her.”
“When you get Ben settled, use my phone. I’ll listen in, with your permission.”
She hesitated only for a moment. “Okay.”
Okay. She still trusted him in spite of the kiss, at least to a point. It was the best he could ask for.
Aunt Ginny and Helen settled with Ben in front of the TV, watching a movie about some sort of animated train. Ben was enthralled, and Ginny was pink cheeked with happiness at sharing the moment with the little boy. Helen was also partaking in the spoiling, preparing them all glasses of chocolate milk, but he noted the faraway look on her face when she watched Ben and he knew the proximity brought back painful wounds that had not scabbed over.
He and Jane went outside to the sprawling flagstone porch and sat. The area provided an unobstructed view of the cattle dotting the land below. She looked dwarfed and delicate by the surroundings, and he wished fervently in that moment that they could sit there under different circumstances, without the mountain of fear, the menace of his brother, the discomfort he’d caused her with his kiss. Shaking a
way the thought, he handed her the phone.
* * *
After a breath, Jane dialed, pressing the speaker button.
On the second ring, a woman answered, her voice high and reedy.
“Hello?”
“Is this Bette?”
“Jane,” the woman said. “I’ve been searching for you.”
Jane felt a rush of joy and anxiety. “I’m so glad to talk to you.”
Her words spilled out in a cascade. “After the trial, I got your letter, and I realized then that you didn’t know anything about Wade and what he did to me.”
Jane gulped. Wade had befriended Bette at a gym, pretended to be interested in her, until he abducted and imprisoned her on their property, intending to force her to withdraw her savings, like he had with the others. She’d escaped, heading to the police and setting his eventual arrest in motion.
“I’m so happy to hear your voice.” Bette’s crying carried clearly over the line.
Jane bit her lip. “Are you okay? I mean...are you safe right now?”
“Yes, so far, but I heard—I mean, I know he’s out. Is he after us?”
She heard the rising hysteria. “Calm down,” Jane said soothingly. “He’s after me, but there’s no reason to think he’s found you, too.” Mitch gestured for her to ask a question. “How did you know to leave your number at the Driftwood police station?”
“I remembered from the trial that Wade had a brother, a US marshal. I did some research online.”
Mitch frowned. Jane knew he’d been careful to keep his name out of things, to live as silently and anonymously as he could. Bette went on to explain.
“There was a cattle auction a couple years back and his name was on a public document—Mitch’s, I mean.”
One error and she’d caught it. Jane bit back a sigh. A very smart woman, Bette Whipple. Wade had always targeted bright women—their only flaw was trusting too much.
“I’m scared,” Bette said. “After the trial I left my nursing job, did some computer work from wherever I was staying. I even started on my dream of getting a master’s at a local college, but now he’s out and I can’t think of anything else.” Sobs choked off her words. Jane gripped the phone.
“He won’t find you.”
“Yes, he will. He will. I keep imagining I see him everywhere I go.”
“No,” Jane said firmly. “He’s here.” She caught Mitch’s warning look. “He’s after me and Mitch. You’re safe. Please listen. You’re safe.”
“I need to see you,” she babbled. “Please, Jane. I’m scared. I made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Coming here...to Driftwood.”
Jane jerked in shock. “Here? Why would you come here?”
“I wanted to find you, to talk to you. Now I’m stuck. I’m running out of money, and I’m scared.”
“Where are you?” Jane demanded. “Tell me right now and I’ll get the police...”
“No police,” Bette almost shouted. “They’re in league with Wade—he’s paid them off. He had money hidden somewhere. They helped him escape.”
“How do you know...?”
“I have to go. I’m in a bad place. I’ll call you again.”
“No, Bette. Don’t hang up,” Jane pleaded, but the line went dead.
Jane looked at Mitch in horror. He was already reaching for the phone. “I’ll call Danny. He’s a good man. He’ll have to loop Foley in, but maybe not right away.”
Jane’s nostrils flared, lips crushed in a tight line. He reached for her hand, the fingers dead cold. “It will be okay. They’ll find her.”
“What if Wade finds her first?”
He didn’t answer.
She fought for calm. “I let Wade victimize those women. It’s too late for them, but not for her, not for Bette. I can’t let him do it again.”
He pulled her to him and hung on while she cried. When she was able to breathe more normally, he settled her on a chair and dialed Danny Patron’s number.
EIGHTEEN
Sunday morphed to Monday, and still there was no further word from Bette. Jane was consumed with worry. Danny called twice to tell them he could find no sign of her in town, though the gas station attendant had noticed a woman driving a compact car the day before. He’d remembered the dark-haired passenger with sunglasses because strangers to town, especially young women traveling alone, were a novelty. He had not noticed where she’d gone.
Mitch was busy with his ranch duties, and she could tell by his expression when he returned from the pasture astride Rosie that he had not heard further about Bette.
Thinking of the woman’s fear stirred a deep ache in her heart. She’d failed Bette before with her own ignorance, and she desperately wanted to help her now, get her to a safe place far away from Wade.
She tried to distract herself from the madness by helping Aunt Ginny bake up a half-dozen pies. Ben assisted, too, making his own lopsided pie specimens with bits of leftover dough. Catty Cat sat on a cushion in the corner, basking in a sunbeam. Jane was happy to see the kitten looking a bit fuller, with a pronounced pinkness to the little nose.
“Uncle Moo Moo,” Ben chortled as Mitch loped into the kitchen.
Liam, who had appointed himself official taste tester, chowing down his second slice of pie, almost choked on a mouthful. Recovering, he laughed until tears ran down his face. “Did I hear that right?”
“I like it,” Aunt Ginny said. “Even better than Aunt Ginny.”
“Uncle Moo Moo, that is the best thing I’ve ever heard,” Liam said, wiping his eyes. “I am totally blabbing that news all over town.”
Jane tensed, and Liam caught her panicked look.
“Okay. Maybe not all over town, at least until after the current situation is resolved, but I’m going to keep it in my back pocket, for sure.”
Mitch shot him a look but grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and slid into a chair next to Ben. “You makin’ a pie?”
“A choo twain,” Ben said.
Mitch looked to Jane for explanation.
“He’s making a choo-choo train.”
Mitch’s face brightened. “Oh, yeah. I see it now. Say, I’ve got something for you, if you’re done.”
Ben nodded, and Jane wiped his hands. They followed Mitch out of the ranch house, leaving Liam still chuckling in the kitchen. They walked down a graveled drive to a neat workshop hidden by a copse of trees.
“Liam does his saddle work here, but he lets me have a corner.”
Mitch took a box down from a wooden shelf and extracted an object for Ben.
Ben’s eyes went wide, his mouth open as he yelled. “Twain!”
It was a painted wooden train with sturdy red wheels. Mitch handed him two more. “And here’s the locomotive and there’s the last one. Know what that’s called?”
“Boose!”
“Yeah, a caboose.” He pointed to the metal disks on the ends of the cars. “These are magnets, so you can hook the cars to the locomotive, just like real trains.”
Ben hugged the trains to his chest.
Jane thought she had never seen her son so happy, and it robbed her of breath for a moment. When she recovered, she tapped Ben on the shoulder. “What should we say to Uncle Mitch?”
Ben tore his gaze from the trains, wrestled a hand loose from his toys and hugged Mitch around the knees. “Fank you, Uncle Moo Moo,” he said into Mitch’s kneecaps.
Mitch shot her a look, half startled, half befuddled. She smiled because she feared her voice might have a hitch.
He sank down to his knees and carefully embraced Ben as if he would break at any moment. “You’re welcome,” he said.
Then Ben hugged his toys again. “Play?”
“Yes, we should play with them right now,” she affirmed. “Let’s go back
to the house, okay?” They walked together, Ben nearly dancing with delight over his new toys.
“That was so sweet, Mitch. Really.”
He shrugged. “Ah. I got into making trains about ten years ago. I had to figure out the proper way to make a toddler version, but I think it turned out okay.”
“More than okay.” She reached out and squeezed his hand.
Head ducked, he squeezed it back.
On their return trip, they met Uncle Gus guiding a foal by a lead rope. The gawky creature half walked, half hopped along.
“That’s Sugar,” Mitch said. “She’s a handful.”
Uncle Gus greeted them and let Ben stroke the velvety nose of the young horse. “Just got her vaccinations,” he said. “So now she gets some playtime.” Sugar lipped at Ben’s hair, which made them all laugh. The gangly creature was as curious about her son as he was of her.
Uncle Gus led the horse away, Ben still staring, trains clutched tight.
“Maybe when she’s a little older, you could ride her, Ben. I could show you how.” Mitch meant no harm by the offer, but Jane bit her lip and Mitch noticed immediately.
“I...uh, I said the wrong thing, didn’t I?” he said as they led Ben back to the house.
“No, not really. It was a lovely thing to tell him, but I don’t know where we will be next week, let alone next month. I’ve never... I mean, I haven’t been able to give him a settled life before.”
Mitch squared his shoulders. “You will when we put Wade away.”
“I want to believe that with everything in my soul, but that day may never come. I can’t live here, sponging off Gus and Aunt Ginny indefinitely.”
“You’re not. They don’t see it that way.” He paused, and something changed in his tone. “I don’t see it that way.”
The words warmed her, bloomed feelings that she had never experienced before, like the first taste of an exotic fruit. It was a heady feeling, dizzying. But you can’t have those kind of thoughts for Mitch, especially not now. “Well, anyway, it was a kind offer, and your gift to Ben was perfect. He’s over the moon.” There, she thought she’d put them back on the right track, normal ground, until he turned her to face him.
