by R. C. Ryan
In the meantime, he would give as much attention as he could to Meg and Cory.
It didn’t hurt, he thought with a devilish grin, that Meg Stanford was as beautiful as she was complicated.
There was nothing Jake loved more than the challenge of a gorgeous, fascinating woman.
Chapter Five
Big Jim smiled at Meg. “I hope your father’s messy papers can be cleared up quickly.”
“His papers are the least of my problems.” Meg sat back, feeling stronger now that she’d enjoyed that excellent meal. “I woke up this morning to discover an awful mess because there had been an intruder at the ranch while Cory and I were asleep.”
She realized, by the sudden, shocking silence, that she had everyone’s attention. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to drop a bombshell after such a lovely lunch.”
Cole frowned. “How much damage was done?”
She gripped her hands together in her lap. “The windows were broken and the tires slashed on my rental car, and papers were scattered all over the floor of my father’s office.”
Big Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Was anything stolen?”
Meg shrugged. “Without knowing what my father had, it’s impossible to tell. Chief Fletcher suggested that I talk to Judge Bolton to see if he has a current copy of my father’s will, since I couldn’t find a copy in my father’s office.”
Cole nodded. “Kirby Bolton was a good friend of your father’s. If anyone would know what he had and what may have been taken, it’s him.”
Big Jim asked, “Have you phoned the car rental agency?”
Meg shook her head.
“I suggest you call them and explain what happened. Their vehicles are all insured. They can send someone out with a tow truck to pick up the damaged car and deliver a new one. Living so far from town, you can’t get by without some wheels.”
Meg smiled. “You’re right. Thanks for reminding me.” She scrolled through her cell phone until she located the number for the car rental agency.
Within minutes she had explained the situation to someone there and hung up with a smile. “They said they’ll have someone take care of it as soon as possible.”
Big Jim said firmly, “And this time, you need to lock your rental car in the barn at night.”
Cheyenne glanced at Sierra. “Personally, I wouldn’t want to stay there at night, knowing someone could do this again. What’s to stop an intruder from coming back?”
Meg shuddered. “Chief Fletcher suggested that whoever did this may have already found what they were looking for, and won’t bother returning.”
“Maybe.” Phoebe arched a brow. “And maybe not.” She focused on Meg. “We have plenty of room here for you and Cory. Why don’t you consider staying here?”
Caught off guard by her kindness, Meg chewed on her lip. “I really appreciate the offer, Phoebe, but I’m not comfortable leaving my father’s ranch vacant and vulnerable to thieves. If it were known that nobody was there, the intruder could return and take as long as he pleases to go through my father’s files. Besides…” She glanced at Jake before saying, “I really need to see this through. I’ll feel better about myself if I stay put rather than run away and hide. But Cory is another matter.” She turned to the boy. “Maybe you ought to consider bunking here. That way you could see Shadow whenever you wanted.”
The boy’s eyes clouded with confusion before he ducked his head. His hands, held stiffly in his lap, clenched and unclenched with nerves.
Jake could practically read the boy’s dilemma. On the one hand, he’d just been offered a way out. He could remain here with his colt, and nobody would blame him. On the other hand, he would be abandoning Meg if he left her alone.
Obviously uncomfortable being the center of attention, Cory’s voice was little more than a mumble. “I’ll go home with you.”
If Meg was relieved, she tried not to show it. With a gentle smile she said, “Okay.”
Big Jim pushed away from the table and got to his feet. “I’ve got to get back to my chores.” He offered a handshake to Meg and then to Cory. “It was good meeting both of you. I hope you’ll come back.”
“Thank you.” Meg felt a welling of gratitude for the comfort of this large and loving family. Whatever issues had been between them and her father had apparently been put aside, and for that she was thankful. As she offered her hand to the others she added, “I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality. I’m feeling a lot less alone now than I did at this time yesterday.”
“That’s what neighbors are for.” Cole gave her a wide smile. “You need anything at all, you just let us know.”
After thanking Phoebe and Ela for the meal, Meg turned to Jake. “We’d better get back now.”
He nodded. “We’ll make a stop in the barn first, and see how Shadow is settling in.”
Before they could leave, Ela handed Meg a brown bag.
“What’s this?”
The old woman grinned, showing a gap where a tooth had been. “Some cold roast chicken and corn bread. Enough for dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning for you and the boy.”
Meg felt an unexpected rush of tears and blinked them away. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
The old woman put a gnarled hand on Cory’s shoulder. “You’re a good boy. You watch out for your sister.”
Cory ducked his head, avoiding that dark, piercing gaze that seemed able to see clear through to a person’s heart.
Jake kissed Ela’s withered cheek. “I hope you saved some corn bread for me.”
“You had enough.” But her words were softened with a smile.
“I’ll never have enough.” He chuckled as he led the way to the barn.
Inside, the colt lifted its head in greeting the moment Cory stepped into the stall.
“Hey. How do you like it here?” the boy whispered.
As if in reply, Shadow tossed his head and gave a soft whinny.
“That’s good.” Cory looped an arm around the colt’s neck and pressed his face close. “I have to leave you here. But only for a couple of days. As soon as your leg heals, you’ll be going home with me.”
Standing outside the stall, Meg and Jake watched in silence.
“’Bye, Shadow.” Cory ran a hand along the colt’s mane. “See you tomorrow.”
The three of them walked from the barn and climbed into the truck.
As Jake drove along the curving driveway, Meg lowered the window and breathed deeply. “I’d forgotten how fresh and clean and dry the air is here in Wyoming. By now in D.C. there’s so much humidity, I always feel like I’m breathing underwater.”
Jake laughed. “I didn’t notice you breathing in like this when we were in the barn.”
She joined his laughter. “You’re right. Funny. You never forget the smell of a barn. But after the first few hours back here, I felt as though I’d never left. Some of the memories are slowly returning, but so many others washed over me in waves so fast and furious I could hardly absorb all of them.”
She fell silent and turned to look out the window, leaving Jake to wonder whether the memories had been pleasant or unpleasant.
Probably, he thought, a mixture of both. She’d left with her mother under a dark cloud of sadness. That wasn’t something that would be easily overcome. But surely there were plenty of happy memories from her childhood to make up for the pain.
When they reached the Stanford ranch, they caught sight of a tow truck in the driveway, and a man was busy securing the damaged car behind the truck.
Jake pulled up alongside and the man hurried over.
Meg spoke through the open window. “That was quick.”
“Yes, ma’am. Miss Stanford?”
“Yes. I’m Meg Stanford.”
He handed over a sheaf of documents. “I’ll need your signature on these. I’ve left you a new rental car, but the same make and model as the other.”
“Thank you.”
Jake waited while Meg and Cory stepped out of the tr
uck.
“I’ll drive to the barn and unhitch your horse trailer. Then I’d better tend to a couple of ranchers. Like my father said, if there’s anything you need, anything at all, you call me. Day or night.”
Meg nodded. “Thanks for everything, Jake. I really appreciate this.” She lifted the big bag to indicate the food Ela had packed. “And this.”
He shot her a grin before turning to Cory. “You keep an eye out for your sister, son.”
“Yeah.” Cory ducked his head.
“And Cory?”
When the boy lifted his head, Jake added, “I’ll call in the morning and give you a report on how Shadow got through the night. And then, if you’d like, I’ll come by and pick you up so you can have a visit with him in the barn. If your colt’s strong enough, I’ll have you take him for a few laps around the corral.”
The boy nodded and turned away.
Jake drove to the barn and unhitched the horse trailer before driving past the ranch house. In the rearview mirror he watched as the mechanic cleaned his hands on a towel before climbing up to the seat of the tow truck.
Satisfied that Meg had a means of transportation and enough food to see her and Cory through the night, Jake picked up his cell phone and called the first rancher on his long list of patients in need of his care.
He’d put off his own schedule long enough. Now it was time to get to work. From the list of calls on his cell phone, he’d be lucky to get home before midnight.
Meg stashed the brown bag in the refrigerator and watched as Cory wandered out to the barn.
Was he working out there, mucking stalls, or was he just hoping to put as much distance between them as possible? Did he resent her in his house? After all, in the years he’d lived here, he’d never had to share it with anyone except his mother and father. And now both were gone, and he was probably feeling so alone.
Jake had suggested that she ought to know what the boy was going through, but in truth, she didn’t have a clue. What could she possibly have in common with an aloof little kid who could barely stand to be in the same room with her?
How would he adjust to living in a big city? Even with a haircut and new clothes, she couldn’t imagine Cory adjusting to living in her posh town house, attending a private school in D.C. while she worked. And what would she possibly do with him on the weekends, when she put in another twenty or more hours on the high-profile cases the firm handed her?
It would be a lonely, unsatisfying life for a little boy who’d grown up wild and free here in Wyoming. She knew that only too well.
Still, what choice did she have? She’d made a life for herself in D.C. Was she supposed to just walk away from all the hard work she’d put into her career to care for a kid she hadn’t even known about a week ago?
So many worries. And another headache beginning to throb at her temples.
She walked through the house, pausing to study the dusty photographs. On a cluttered mantel she found several framed pictures of her father with his third wife and Cory.
Meg wiped away the dust to study their faces. Her father, looking so much older than she’d remembered. And his wife looking like a schoolgirl in faded denims and skinny shirt. She’d been a pretty little thing. Pale, dark-haired. She looked so proud holding the baby.
What in heaven’s name had her father been thinking, to marry again and have a kid? At his age. He should have been more responsible than this. Setting the photo aside, Meg climbed the stairs to her father’s bedroom and began pulling things from his closet. The least she could do was to box up his clothing for a local charity.
As she worked, she came across a photo album on a top shelf. After wiping away the layers of dust, she opened it to find, on the very first page, a picture of her father and mother holding a baby and looking so proud and happy. The caption My Meggy had been written in her father’s distinctive scroll.
Meg dropped down on the edge of the bed and began flipping through the pages. Here was a small framed picture of her with her father and mother when she’d been about five. She’d been bundled in a snowsuit, barely able to move her arms or legs with all that bulk, and the three of them were standing beside a giant snowman. The sight of them had her laughing aloud. Her father had jokingly held up his fingers like devil’s horns behind his wife, who was, as always, frowning.
Meg had forgotten what a prankster her father had been. When he wasn’t giving orders like a drill sergeant, which he confessed to doing only because he wanted to drill into her the importance of being orderly, he was constantly playing jokes or doing pratfalls to make her laugh. It had been his most endearing quality.
A few pages further along she found a photo of her and her father with her beloved Strawberry. Meg looked at the little girl, eyes dancing, smile so wide it would have lit up the entire sky, and her father, his arm around her shoulders, looking for all the world like a superhero.
He had been her hero that day.
She’d loved him so much. And loved that pony almost as much.
The thought had her smiling as she continued flipping through the pages and staring hungrily at her childhood unfolding before her. So many memories, and all of them forgotten until now.
How could she have forgotten the way her father had allowed her to drive the tractor—with him seated alongside, of course—while they rolled across the fields? Or the fact that on the first snowfall of her ninth year, he’d hitched a team to an old-fashioned sleigh and had taken her on a sleigh ride across the pasture? Oh, how she’d loved that feeling of skimming across the frozen land, their laughter ringing in the frosty air.
There was a picture of the two of them taking a flying leap into the creek that ran through the high meadow. It had been their favorite pastime on sultry summer days.
And another photo of them at a bonfire, roasting marshmallows. Meg could close her eyes and still taste the sticky, melted confection fresh from the fire. Her father had always saved the last one for her.
Nearly an hour later, when she closed the cover of the album, she sat on the edge of her father’s bed and wiped away the tears that had welled up and caught her by complete surprise.
Not that she was feeling nostalgic, she reminded herself. It was just that she’d forgotten more than she remembered. Such sweet, innocent times. Before the anger, the bickering, the finger-pointing. Before she’d been wrenched from the only home she’d ever known to start a new and bewildering life in a big city, among strangers.
Needing to be busy, Meg returned to the closet. There were other albums, of other wives, but she had no interest in looking at the pictures. Maybe another day. For now, for this short time, she wanted nothing that would distract her from the pleasant images that were playing through her mind.
She was surprised to hear footsteps on the stairs. She peered into the hallway to find Cory walking toward his bedroom.
He turned. Seeing her he called, “’Night.”
“Good night? We never had supper.”
“I’m not hungry. It’s late.” He moved on down the hall.
“Yeah. Okay. Good night, Cory.” She glanced at the window and realized that the sun had set long ago and darkness was already creeping across the landscape.
An hour later, as she made ready for bed, the pleasant feelings remained.
She made her way down the stairs to lock the doors. While she was there, she made herself a cup of tea before turning out the lights and heading for her bedroom.
Jake’s sound sleep was shattered by the ringing of his phone. He rolled over and thought about ignoring the persistent ring. He’d spent hours tending to lame horses, pregnant mares, and even Flora’s ancient cat, who finally coughed up enough meat loaf to kill the average kitty.
Flora had been mortified. “If you ever tell my customers what made Nippers sick, Jake Conway, I’ll put arsenic in your soup.”
“Yeah. I guess it might have a few of your regulars refusing to try your famous meat loaf if they heard what it did to old Nippers.”
“It wasn’t the meat loaf. It was his overeating. I should have named him Piggers.”
The two of them laughed together before Flora sent Jake on his way with half a homemade apple pie, which he’d managed to polish off before reaching home well past midnight.
And now some fool cat had probably gotten itself sick again. Or maybe up a tree.
He was so weary. He would just—
The phone rang yet again, and swearing, he made a grab for it. “Yeah?”
For a moment there was only silence.
“Hello,” he barked. “This is Jake Conway.”
“Jake?” The frantic, whispered voice on the other end had him sitting up on the edge of the bed.
“Cory? What’s wrong?”
“I heard a sound and looked out my window. There’s someone out there.”
Jake ran a hand over his face, suddenly wide awake. “Where are you?”
“Upstairs. In my room.”
“All right. Now listen to me, Cory.” Jake was already up and moving about his room, searching for the clothes he’d tossed aside…had it been only an hour ago? “Go to your sister’s room and wake her. Tell her I want the two of you to stay in her room until I get there. And you may want to put something heavy against the door so it can’t be forced open. Do you understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t open that door to anyone but me, son.”
“I won’t.”
Jake fumbled into his clothes and boots and slipped his phone into his shirt pocket.
Downstairs he raced to his father’s big office and removed a rifle and handgun from a locked cabinet, along with a pouch of ammunition.
He was out the door and on the road within minutes. As his truck ate up the miles, he dialed a number and waited until he heard a voice that sounded as weary as his own.
“Police Chief Everett Fletcher here.”
“Everett. Jake Conway.” In a few terse sentences he explained about the phone call, and his destination.
