“It’ll be all right.” She rubbed small circles across her younger sister’s back.
Tripp and Jericho stood on either side like self-appointed sentinels. Chance leaned his head against Ali’s stomach, and she used her free hand to trail her fingers over his hair.
The minister moved toward them, hands clasped over his Bible. “I’ll pray for your peace. Please don’t hesitate to stop by the church if you need anything.”
Ali nodded. “Thank you, Pastor.”
Rider stepped forward. He lowered his head, touching the brim of his black hat as he passed. Three other ranch hands followed, murmuring their regrets before leaving.
After a moment of silence, Chance spoke up. “Where is she?”
“Who, honey?”
“Grandma.”
Ali let go of Kate and knelt the best she could in her black dress and pumps. She traced a hand down her son’s expressive face. Jericho knelt down beside her. He looped an arm around her waist.
She took a breath. “Grandma passed away, sweetheart. She’s gone. But now she doesn’t have to be in a bed anymore and can breathe on her own.”
Chance scrunched up his face, tilting his head to the side in a manner that made him look just like Jericho. “But I saw her in that box.” He pointed.
At a loss for words, she looked to Jericho.
He gave a slight nod. “That’s not really her in there.”
Chance pouted.
“Listen, buddy. There is a part of us, the real part, that can’t be kept in a box like that.”
Chance looked at the coffin, then back at Jericho. Ali wrung her hands together. Why hadn’t she prepared Chance better?
Jericho rubbed his bent knee, and a flicker of pain crossed his face. “Do you know who Jesus is, Chance?”
A grin creased her son’s face. “Oh, does he work at Taco Time?”
Jericho used his hand to cover his smile. “No. That guy’s nice, but I’m talking about a different Jesus. The one I’m talking about created those mountains over there.” He pointed toward the Bitterroots.
Chance crossed his arms. “But does he make good tacos? Because—”
Jericho dropped a hand on Chance’s shoulder. “You hungry? If it’s okay with your mom, I’ll take you to Taco Time for lunch, and we can talk.”
Chance grabbed Jericho’s hand and tugged for him to follow. “I think I need to hear about this guy. If there are tacos involved, he sounds kind of cool.” Jericho rose with some effort. He looked back over his shoulder at Ali.
Thank you, she mouthed, and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. He’d make a good father. How could she keep them apart any longer?
Megan appeared next to her. She squeezed Ali’s hand. “It was a nice service. I’m so sorry about your mom.”
“I just wish we could have done more for her, you know? I feel so bad. All of ten people showed up. Kate and I were the only ones here because of Ma. Everyone else came to support us. It’s so sad.”
“I remember you saying once, didn’t you, that your mom was happiest when your dad was alive?”
“I can’t think of a day she’s been truly happy since before the day he died.”
“Well, look.” Megan swept her hand to indicate the headstone—a large one, with the names Buck and Marge Silver engraved across the front. “She’s beside him again.”
The only place Ma wanted to be.
“Thank you. We haven’t known each other long, but I value our friendship. I’m glad you joined the Big Sky team. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Oh, you know. It was that or assist my dad at the research lab. No, thank you.” Megan smiled and started to walk away, then paused. “It does seem odd, though.”
With one last look at the grave site, Ali turned and fell into step with Megan. “What seems odd?”
“That Rider came. I sure didn’t expect that one. But stranger things have happened.”
Ali stopped. “Why would that be weird?”
“But he... I guess it shouldn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you.” Megan shrugged.
Ali crossed her arms. “Just go ahead and spit out whatever you’re hinting at.”
Megan pursed her lips and raised thinly plucked eyebrows. “I just thought he hated your family. So it makes me wonder why he would show his face here today.”
“That’s absurd. What reason does he have to hate us?”
“Could you seriously not know?” Megan narrowed her eyes. “His parents...your dad’s company...the accident.”
A chill prickled down Ali’s spine. “What?”
“The semitruck. It was Rider’s parents who were killed in that crash. He and his sisters are the ones who cleaned out all the company’s funds in the first lawsuit, and they’re the ones who are now coming after you. Don’t you do a background check on people?”
“I’ve never run a check on anyone. I didn’t even call his references. What if they’re all made up?” Ali’s hands shook. “No. I can’t believe that. That can’t be true. Rider is the sweetest guy.” How was she to know? She’d been too young when the accident happened. Mom and the lawyers dealt with everything. Tripp was handling the recent civil suit. She hadn’t bothered to ask him the details.
“Listen. My sister works at the bank that handles their settlement account. I know it was the last name Longley. Isn’t that Rider’s last name?”
You’ve been warned.
Ali gasped. “Do you think? Could all the stuff that’s been happening—the missing money, the fences, the horses turned out, the letter—you don’t think he’s capable of that?”
“He’s who I’ve had pegged all along.”
“I had no clue.” She balled her fists. “I have to fire him.”
Her friend grabbed her hand again as they approached the parking lot. “You can’t do that. You need proof. Let’s catch him at his own game. If he’s lunatic enough to be doing stuff, don’t you think he’ll be even more dangerous if you make him angry?”
“You’re absolutely right. I don’t know how he’ll react. We have to keep Chance safe.” She latched onto Megan’s arm. “I need proof. Then I’m calling the cops.”
“We’ll save your family’s ranch yet.”
* * *
“Guess what?” Her son’s new dress shoes galumphed against the wood floor. “I invited Jericho to stay and have supper with us.”
“Chance!”
“I told him about our camping trip too, and he said he used to go camping all the time when he was young. So I told him he had to come with us because you’re just a girl and maybe you don’t know as much about camping as he does.”
“Chance Silver!”
“We’re still going camping, aren’t we? You said if I got an A in summer school we’d go, and I did, Mom. You promised.”
“I know, honey. We’re still going camping. Now go upstairs and change out of those clothes. The potpie is almost done.” He disappeared up the stairs. “And wash your hands, buster!”
“Camping?” Jericho ran his hands over the top of the couch.
He suddenly felt too close. All the emotions from the past two weeks waged war in Ali’s mind. She stepped away from him and straightened a pile of magazines on the coffee table.
“He wanted to go with his Scout group, but each boy had to have a parent along. It was all fathers, and I didn’t feel right about it being just me with all those men. So Chance didn’t get to go, and he’s been bummed ever since.” She smoothed her hands down her skirt. “I told him if he did well in summer school I’d take him.”
“He had to have summer courses? Is everything okay with him?”
“Yeah. He’s decent in school, but it’s hard for him to stay focused. Math and science seem more difficult
for him to grasp.”
Jericho tilted his head. “It was that way for me too when I was about his age.”
She looked up. Their gazes locked, and her palms started sweating. He knows.
“Listen, I don’t have to stay, Ali. You’ve had a rough day.” His low voice tickled down her spine.
“It’s okay. We have enough.” There was no point sending him away. Chance would be easier to handle tonight with Jericho around. Besides, with the loss of her mother, Jericho’s presence lent a comforting feel of days gone by.
The next few hours would give Ali a chance to recoup her defenses, and plot some sort of strategy to confront the doubt bubbling in her head like a whirlpool. All the problems in her life felt like rapidly growing monsters, hungrily slurping all her energy and time.
She turned to go into the kitchen, but stopped with her back to Jericho. “Thank you for talking to him today.”
“He’s a bright kid. He had a lot of questions.” He gave a low chuckle.
Ali grabbed the back of the desk chair near the wall. “I haven’t really been on close terms with God.”
“You’re a good mother. Chance is fortunate to have you.”
Ali shook her head and backed toward the kitchen door. “I haven’t even thought about all that stuff for a long time. The only thing from the Bible I can remember is some verse that says hope deferred makes the heart sick. I’ve clung to that phrase this whole time.”
“I think there’s more to that verse...”
She cut in. “Just...thank you. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
“You’re welcome. And, Ali? You can always come back to God. He’s waiting with open arms.”
He’s free, Al. You’re the one still locked up and suffering.
She needed to get away from Jericho. For now, she left him in the front room.
Pushing through the kitchen door, she glanced at Kate then crossed to the oven and pulled out the potpie, satisfied with its golden top. Kate silently pulled out three plates as she began to set the table.
“Four plates. We’ll need four settings.” Ali dumped the boiled potatoes into the strainer, shook it and put them back in the pot. She pulled out butter, cream and garlic powder, and yanked open the drawer in search of the masher.
“Jericho?” Kate guessed.
“Yes.” Ali swiped the back of her wrist against her forehead. “What am I going to do?”
“About Jericho?”
“I think he...I know he suspects about Chance. And I won’t—I can’t—Chance is my son, and I won’t lose him.”
“You think Jericho will take him from you if he finds out the truth?”
Ali huffed and tossed up her hands, splattering a glob of mashed potato against the rooster backsplash. “He’s a cowboy. Chance is captivated. Jericho can rope and ride and wrestle cattle. He can put an engine back together in one day. Chance thinks he’ll be more fun to go camping with than me. How can I compete? I’m not cool. I teach handicapped kids how to ride horses. I make Chance clean his room and scold him for not brushing his teeth.”
Kate tapped a handful of forks against her chin. “Sure. Jericho’s exciting to a seven-year-old. But it’s futile to play a competition game in your head. Chance loves you. You’re his mother. I wish you could see—could admit—that Jericho is trustworthy. That cowboy in there isn’t here to lord anything over you. Actually, he put all the power in your hands when he asked for your forgiveness.”
Ali rinsed off her hands and dried them on the kitchen towel. She brought it to her face and pressed the damp fabric against her eyes. “I don’t know if I can. I feel so threatened by him—by what forgiving him could mean to my life and to Chance’s.”
“You think if you open up that cage of bitterness and resentment you’ve kept your son and yourself locked in, that Chance will run away? But think, Ali—maybe you aren’t meant to live in a cage. None of you are.”
But her mother’s voice echoed deep in her mind. If he finds out, he’ll take your son. No one will stay. You’ll be alone.
* * *
The doorbell rang. Since the girls were in the kitchen busy gabbing, Jericho answered the door. The man waiting on the porch was not a welcome sight.
His lips curled. “Tripp? What are you doing here?”
Tripp looked him up and down. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Seeing as my wife lives here, I figure it’s my place. Now, the town lawyer on the other hand...what business does he have bothering these women on the day they put their mama to rest?”
“Your wife, huh? We’ll see how much longer that lasts.” Tripp shoved past him, banging his shoulder on the way into the house. The man was the same height and build as him, but Jericho could trounce the loafer-wearer any day of the week.
He followed on Tripp’s heels. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Tripp.” Ali crossed the room. She rubbed her hands on her flowery apron. The gold flecks in her eyes sparkled as she smiled at their old schoolmate.
Tripp took Ali’s hand in both of his. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I kept thinking about the ordeal you’ve been through, and I had to come over and make sure you were okay. Is there anything I can do for you, Alison?”
Jericho rolled his eyes. “No, I think we’ve got it about covered here.” Ali tossed him a glare, and he had the strangest urge to stick out his tongue at her.
“We were just sitting down to dinner. Won’t you join us?”
The group moved to the kitchen, and Ali asked Chance to pull out another place setting. Tripp slithered right into the spot next to Ali, so Jericho took the spot next to Chance and across from Kate.
Chance swung his feet, banging them against the bottom rung of the chair. “Yes! I get to sit next to Jericho.” After slapping Jericho a high five, he turned to the rest of the table. “Do you know how to start a fire without a match, Tripp?”
Ali dished out potpie.
“Smells good, Ali,” Jericho said in an attempt to recapture her attention.
Tripp rubbed his hands together. “I don’t know how to do that. But I always have matches on me so I don’t need to.”
Chance thrust out his fork. “Jericho knows. And he’s going to teach me when we go on our camping trip, aren’t you?”
“Sure thing, short stack.”
“Well.” Tripp took a long swig from his glass. “Chance, some of us didn’t grow up with all the free time in the world. I grew up in a trailer park. My mom didn’t have enough money for me to join the Scouts or to buy fancy camping gear. I may not know rough-and-tumble stuff, but I know about working hard for what I want. I know about scrimping through life, unlike others here who had everything handed to them. Some people have an easy life because their fathers were wealthy ranchers. I may not have all that money, but there are more important things I can teach you about than a simple fire.”
Jericho slammed down his cup, and water sloshed onto the table. Kate handed him a wad of napkins. He sopped up the mess.
Ali’s gaze ping-ponged from Tripp to Jericho.
Jericho cleared his throat. “The potpie is good.”
Chance leaned his chin into his hand. “A fire without matches sounds more fun, though.”
“But that knowledge is unnecessary if you always keep matches handy. And I do.”
“Eat your peas, Chance,” Ali snapped.
Tripp laid down his silverware and patted his mouth with his napkin. “So it’s true? You’re going camping with Mr. Freed?”
“Mom, too.”
“Alison?” Tripp’s eyebrows rose.
Her cheeks blossoming, Ali pressed back from the table. “Nothing’s been discussed yet. More lemonade, Tripp? You’re empty.”
Seated at the head of the table, Tripp crosse
d his arms over his pressed oxford shirt. “I hardly think it’s appropriate, this camping business. If you need someone, I can hire a guide. They have those for the tourists. I don’t think you need anyone else’s help.” Tripp looked Jericho in the eye, then reached over and stroked Ali’s hand. “I still don’t know why you’re both so set on going camping in the first place. I wish you wouldn’t go.”
Jericho’s heart pounded like a poked bull. His biceps twitched as he balled his hands.
Ali pressed her hand over her forehead. “Let’s not talk about this right now.”
“Of course. Whatever you need.” Tripp rose from his seat. “I have an appointment this evening anyway.” He squeezed Ali’s shoulder as he passed. “But we’ll talk about this later.”
Jericho leveled his best cowboy snarl at Tripp. “Or maybe she’ll make up her own mind without your say so.”
Tripp ignored him. Waved good-bye to the rest of the family and left out the back door. Jericho caught Ali’s gaze across the table, and the worried lines around her eyes made him soften his expression. He sent a wink her way, hoping to take away some of the stress in the room. She didn’t need more grief in her life. No, Ali needed to laugh more. If he got his way, Jericho would play a part in bringing more smiles to that beautiful face.
Chapter Eight
A week’s worth of tension trickled from Ali as she sat in the living room with her family watching a movie. Kate sat with her legs thrown over the arm of the overstuffed chair, while Ali sat on one end of the couch with Chance’s now drooping head against her side. The boy’s feet were at the other end of the couch, in Jericho’s lap.
She sighed. For as far back as she could remember, Jericho and Tripp had always been like two rams with their horns locked in battle. Good thing she had been able to usher Tripp out of the house after dinner. Not that she didn’t like Tripp—she did. He was dependable and successful and gave every indication that he cared about her well-being. And he was kind to Chance. What more could she ask from a friend? But that’s not all Tripp Phillips wanted anymore, was it?
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