“Thank you, ma’am.” Huck tipped his head.
The only old man with an attitude problem in her life was Gideon, and he’d gone dark and distant again. Maybe it was about Blake, but she had a bad feeling he regretted telling her his story, regretted the intimacy they’d shared that night.
“I’m serious.” Haylee let her forearm flop onto her face. “The SOB thinks he has nothing to learn from me.”
“Language,” chided Daphne. “Little pitchers have big ears.”
She glanced to the other room, where Sage was playing with the baby.
“SOB?” said Haylee. “Seriously?”
Tyler hovered in the entrance. “Like we all haven’t heard far worse.” His eyes followed Sage’s movements hungrily. Jamie figured he had a mad crush on Sage but was terrified of the baby. Or, more accurately, terrified of the whole breastfeeding business.
Jamie couldn’t blame him. It was pretty gross.
Daphne slammed her cleaver into the pile of fresh parsley on the cutting board. “We have standards, young man. Haylee, do you require a reminder?”
Haylee huffed. “You know I’m part owner here, right, Daphne?”
“We all know who runs the place,” the cook replied, running through the greens with frightening speed.
“Yeah, yeah, Olivia’s the big cheese, I’m just the niece. Whatever.” Haylee sat up, pursing her lips. “Anyway, I’ve had enough. Roman Byers is all yours, Jamie. I’m done with him. Best of luck, hope you survive, it was nice knowing you.”
Jamie gathered the carrot peelings into a pile and tossed them into the compost pail, somehow managing not to leap into the air, pumping her fist. Things with Gideon might be on hold, but at least she had this.
“He’s not so bad.”
“Oh, he’s that bad and worse,” countered Haylee. “He called me little lady, today. Then, when he met Sage, he called me Granny.”
Daphne let out a hoot of laughter. “Granny Haylee. It never gets old, does it?”
Haylee pulled a cushion over her face. “I’m fat and irritable, and I just want this to be over. I’m so jealous of you, Jamie. You’ve got the round-up tomorrow, while I’m stuck here, gestating, unable to see my feet.”
“Aw,” Jamie said. She went over and gave her friend a hug. “You’re beautiful when you’re full of self-pity, did you know that? And thank you, Haylee.”
Haylee rolled her eyes. “You’re such a liar. And you’ll be singing a different tune soon enough, guaranteed. Daphne? Have you got a cinnamon bun around somewhere? Baby’s got a craving.”
* * *
Should have seen this coming, Gideon reflected, as he found himself handing a steaming bowl of mashed potatoes to Roman Byers.
Between Daphne’s soft spot for hungry bellies and Olivia’s eye for hungry souls, it was probably only a matter of time before the curmudgeon got added to the payroll. Though what he might have to offer remained a mystery.
Between the four guests Olivia and Huck had just brought in from the trails and the whole staff contingent, including Sage, Sal, Tyler, and Duke, the Byers men made it a full house.
“Help yourself and don’t be stingy.” Daphne set a container of chilled butter near Roman. “There’s always plenty in Daffy’s kitchen. You could use some fattening up.”
Roman glanced across the table at Olivia. “Is she always like this?”
Olivia gave a bark of laughter. “That’s nothing. But I suggest you clean your plate. I don’t want to be around when someone insults her cooking.”
Daphne lifted her chin. “That day will never come. Jonathan, pass your father the peas.”
Jamie smiled warmly at Gideon, but sat next to Jonathan. The two seemed to have no end of conversation.
She was playing it cool, he realized. Smart. No need to let anyone else know about last night. It could be their little secret.
Or maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe she was having second thoughts, too. Maybe she’d realized that he was a bad deal, that he came with too much baggage, that someone like Jon would be a much better bet.
He put down his fork, his appetite gone.
But wasn’t that what he’d told her himself? If he really cared for her, he’d have pushed her to Jon and kept his own hands off her.
“How’s parenthood, Gideon?” asked Sage.
She sat between Olivia and Haylee, little Sal on her lap. The baby was waving her arms, reaching for Sage’s fork, making mum-mum-mum sounds. A string of drool hung from her lip and her eyes followed the food as it went from the plate to her mother’s mouth.
“Great,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s a laugh riot, all right,” Sage said, narrowly avoiding getting mashed potatoes smeared into her hair.
He’d missed so much with Blake.
“Here, let me take her so you can eat,” said Haylee, scooping her granddaughter onto her lap.
She was younger than him, and a grandmother. Young motherhood ran in the family, apparently, except Haylee had mostly skipped her first stab at being a mother.
“Where’s Aiden?” he asked. He liked the man. He was good for Haylee, which was the one criteria that mattered to all of them. They’d each walked a lonely, rocky road to find peace on this ranch and now that they’d found it, they protected it, and each other.
If any of the rest of them found out about what he’d been up to with Jamie, they’d string him up.
“Working.” Haylee caught the baby’s hand as it was heading for her water glass. “Again.”
“Here. Give her this.” Daphne handed over a thigh bone, cleaned of meat and gristle.
“Daphne,” Sage protested. “You can’t give her that. She’ll choke.”
“Every generation thinks they’ve reinvented parenting. Trust me, honey. If you want to survive, you’ll take advice from your betters. And before you ask, that means me. And anyone else who’s been there before you.”
Sage lifted her eyebrows, intercepting the bone. “I’ll get her pacifier.”
The baby, having caught a whiff of the savory toy, started wailing.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Sage said. She took the child from Haylee’s arms.
“At least you got to eat,” Daphne pointed out, as Sage left the table.
“Kids,” Roman said, slanting a look at Jonathan.
“Can’t live with them, can’t shoot them.” Daphne shrugged. “My advice looks pretty good to her at two in the morning.”
“A wise woman and an amazing cook,” Roman said, lifting his half-glass of wine in her direction. “To Daphne.”
Gideon clinked his water glass around as everyone joined the toast.
At the far end, with a loud scraping sound, Ezra shoved his chair back. He got to his feet and picked up his plate. His normally placid face was tight, with white spots at the sides of his mouth.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” He nodded in Daphne’s direction, but didn’t make eye contact. “Thank you for another wonderful meal.”
He stalked from the dining area, rinsed his plate at the sink, and put it into the industrial sized dishwasher.
Daphne got to her feet and bustled over to him. “Oh, hon, you don’t have to do that. Huck and Jamie are on cleanup tonight.”
Olivia said something to smooth over the moment and conversation resumed. But Gideon kept watching the two in the kitchen.
“It’s no trouble.” Ezra wouldn’t look at the cook, but he shot a quick glance toward Roman. “That’s what family does. We help each other out. It’s the least I can do.”
That’s when Gideon saw it. Despite her fussy, grandmotherly behavior, the cook was an attractive woman, fit and strong from kickboxing, with lines on her face from smiling, sunshine, and the belief that time is a gift.
Ezra wasn’t a forward man, though, and he knew Daphne was justifiably wary of romantic relationships.
He caught up with the older man on the porch steps.
“Dessert not to your taste?” Gideon said.
“Table was a little crowded,
” Ezra replied, pulling his car keys out of his pocket.
“Didn’t have you pegged as a man who’d cut and run.” Ezra opened his car door, then turned to face Gideon. “You have something to say, say it.”
“Roman Byers is an ass.”
Ezra looked toward the porch, where muted laughter and conversation could be heard from inside. “He’s a guest.”
“He can be both. She’s just being polite, you know that, right? You’re going to have to up your game if you want a shot at her.”
For a long moment, Ezra was quiet. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ll look elsewhere for advice on my love life.” He exhaled softly. “Watch yourself, Gideon. Jamie’s my friend, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
A Jupiter–Pluto square can have a negative
aspect on something of great value in your life.
—Jamie’s horoscope
In the corral farthest from the main house, separated from the rest of the outbuildings by a stand of vine maples, Jamie rubbed the head of a two-year-old caramel-colored steer with a white face.
The animal was one of three Blonde d’Aquitaines, a relatively uncommon breed with a reputation for easy birthing, good temperament, and excellent meat that Olivia had added to their small herd of Herefords and Black Angus. Both the Blonde heifers had freshened secretly and uneventfully one night early last spring, producing sturdy, healthy calves that nicely proved the first point.
Charley, the one now nuzzling her pocket for sugar lumps, proved the second.
And would, in about three weeks, prove the third, also. She knew it was stupid to get attached, that playing with him like this would only end up hurting later on, but she hated the thought of any creature living without affection. And since everyone else rotated through slaughterhouse duty, they couldn’t be expected to treat the steer like a pet. It felt like a sacred duty to spoil Charley a little during his brief life.
“Jamie!” came a voice from the other side of the fence.
She looked up in surprise. Gideon was waving at her from atop Rosie. Her heart leaped into her throat. Finally, he was ready to talk.
“Come on,” he said. “Everyone’s waiting.”
She glanced at her watch. “Damn,” she muttered to Charley. She’d been here longer than she thought.
“We need to get the cattle in before the storm breaks,” he added. Something was different about his voice. She couldn’t place it exactly, but he sounded like he’d just received bad news.
“Be right there,” she yelled back.
Ten minutes later, she was on Nash. Dust from a dozen bovine hooves billowed into the dry air, even though the clouds above were heavy, the air sluggish. A storm would be coming soon, and it would be dramatic, if the sky was any indication.
Good, thought Jamie, nudging her mount toward the left side, where a straggler was threatening to break free from the herd. She wanted some drama. Maybe Gideon thought they could go back to normal, or whatever passed for normal between them, but she couldn’t. Everything had changed when they’d made love. She’d given him lots of time and space, but enough was enough.
“Yah!” She gently pressed her heel into Nash’s flank and they went wide of the steer. They had two guests riding with them today, Maggie and Ed, a husband and wife who were competent enough in the saddle. Whatever they lacked in skill, they made up for in enthusiasm, and it didn’t much matter because the horses did most of the work anyway.
At least, that’s what she had thought at the beginning. Ed was riding up front with Gideon. Maggie was back with Jamie, and even with the horse’s help, it was becoming apparent that she was in over her head.
The steer was eyeing a low-lying bluff thick with brambles, and if he got in there, they’d have a hell of a time getting him out. Jamie motioned for Maggie, who was closer, to get between the steer and his target. Maggie waved back and continued on her way, oblivious to the path of the steer.
“James!” yelled Gideon, aware but unable to reach the steer. “You got him?”
“Yeah!” she yelled back, urging Nash hard. She could feel the horse’s muscles bunch and gather as he raced toward the steer and she felt as if she were a part of him, and he a part of her, instead of two separate beings. There was a joy in that.
A branch caught her on the sleeve of her western shirt, nearly whipped her in the face. She ducked low in the saddle, urging Nash farther down the path, angling sideways to cut off the steer. Finally the steer got the hint and turned back toward the herd, bawling, eyes rolling dark in its white face, flecks of saliva dotting his red coat.
“Good boy.” Jamie patted Nash’s neck, staying between the steer and the path to relative freedom.
Don’t be an outlier, little bovine. Stick to the herd. That’s where it’s safe.
Some people, at least, thought that was safe.
Not her.
She sucked in a breath and let Nash fall back to a gentle lope. They were almost within sight of the ranch.
“What a picture, right?” Maggie drew up beside her, her generous figure bouncing in the saddle, waving an arm toward the herd starting down the final leg of the valley that would pass the ranch and eventually edge out toward the ocean.
She had long golden hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head, under her white cowboy hat.
“Yeah,” said Jamie.
“I’m a vegetarian myself,” Maggie continued, “but there’s something elemental about a cattle drive that makes me feel like I’m contributing to the survival of my homestead or something.”
She laughed, a light tinkling sound. Her smile was genuine and Jamie felt bad about her earlier annoyance.
“I don’t eat meat either,” she said. “But I can live with this. They grew up out here, happy, safe, no forced weaning, no growth hormones, no feed lot or drugs. They spend their last few weeks in the north pasture, on the best grass with the best view. They’re fat and happy before the slaughter.”
Maggie shuddered. “Oh, I hate that word.”
Jamie did too, but she forced herself to use it. “We use the most humane methods available, but it’s still killing.
She’d promised Olivia that she’d be supportive. No more protests. No placards. No proselytizing. She didn’t have to eat the meat, but if Jamie wanted to live here, she had to find a way to make peace with the fact that they grew animals for meat.
Just before they reached the creek, the steer darted away from the herd again.
“Jamie!” yelled Gideon.
“Got him!” She dug her heels into Nash’s side, calling to Maggie over her shoulder. “Stay here. Hold the line here.”
The horse needed no encouragement, his eye on the errant animal, his stride sure and strong.
Jamie felt Nash’s power coursing through her, felt like she was flying. Maybe she wasn’t polished like Lana or cute like Abby, but she was tough. She could handle shit. She’d handled a lot of crap that would have had other women rocking in a corner.
She could handle Gideon’s shit, too. Nothing scared her. Whatever he’d done, he’d done because he had to. She trusted that. And now, he’d do whatever was necessary to get Blake back.
Because that’s the kind of guy he was.
The best kind.
Then Nash jerked sideways. Suddenly there was air where the saddle had been, and she actually was flying.
She landed, hard. And everything went black.
* * *
Gideon saw Jamie fall. Nash had side-stepped something and Jamie, normally so in tune with the horse, had been caught off guard.
Like it so often happened, he watched the fall as if it were in slow motion. He saw the wind take Jamie’s hat, saw her arms fly into the air, saw her legs flailing outwards, saw her bounce and settle on the ground, her limbs loose and flopping.
No, he prayed to a God he’d long ago stopped believing in. Don’t punish her. I’m to blame.
He put his heels to Rosie and pounded to where Nash stood o
ver Jamie, nudging her in the shoulder with his muzzle.
He slid off and fell to his knees. “Jamie!”
He touched her shoulders, then pulled back, afraid to move her. Panic raced up and down his spine. Every regular rider got thrown or fell off at some point. New horse, not paying attention, bad equipment. Mostly not paying attention. You rolled with it and moved on. Learned from the bruises. But this wasn’t any rider.
This was Jamie.
Her eyelids fluttered. He saw her chest rise and fall, thank the sweet Lord, and he didn’t see any blood or obvious injuries.
“Jamie, honey, talk to me.”
She blinked slowly, then seemed to come back to herself. “Oops,” she said. “I’m not s’posed to be down here, am I?”
Breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding rushed back into Gideon’s lungs. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you move?”
She scrunched up her face, gave her head a shake, and pulled herself up onto her elbows.
Maggie and Ed trotted up to them.
“Is she okay?” Maggie asked. “Should we ride back for help?”
“I’m fine.” The sharpness in her reply let Gideon know that the main damage had been done to her pride.
“Give us a minute.” Gideon took her face in his hands, looking at her eyes, feeling for bumps and bruises.
She pulled away. “Nothing damaged but my dignity, and there wasn’t much of that to start with. Come on, we’re losing the herd.” She struggled to her feet, using Gideon’s arm for support only until she found her balance.
Gideon waved Maggie and Ed back to their corners, where the cattle were indeed beginning to break. “Let me look, Jamie. I think you lost consciousness for a moment. You could have a concussion.”
“I do not have a concussion.” She retied the bandana holding the hair back from her face. It was longer than it used to be, he noticed, and a softer color.
She stalked past him, whisked her hat off the ground, grabbed Nash’s reins, and with one graceful movement, swung herself up into the saddle.
Gideon had no choice but to get back on Rosie and go after her. That was when he noticed that Nash was limping.
Driftwood Creek Page 22
