Return to the Black Hills

by Debra Salonen

  “And I’ll give you a referral to Dr. Means. Don’t let the name fool you—he isn’t.”

  He laughed at his dumb joke, obviously not bothered in the least that his patient didn’t appear amused.

  “You’ll need crutches, too,” he said, getting to his feet. He scribbled something across the paper on his clipboard. “No cast today. We have to get the swelling down. I have a fancy boot you can wear, but you still need to be careful. You’ve severely compromised the ligaments, and ligaments are like politicians—they don’t like compromise.”

  Jessie snickered at that. “You’re funny. Are you sure you’re old enough to be a doctor?”

  “That’s what they told me at Harvard.”

  She made a face to let him she know she was impressed.

  He paused at the door of the exam room. “It’ll take a few minutes to find the right boot. Do you want me to send in your family?”

  “Sure.” She looked at her bare legs. She didn’t know why the nurse had insisted on removing Jessie’s leggings, but, regardless how grouchy Jessie felt about being in a hospital, she never talked back to a nurse. The nurses had been her only salvation in the burn unit. Every one of them had treated her like their own child.

  Of course, that was their job, she thought, pushing the memory away.

  “Hey,” a male voice said, “what’s the verdict?”

  Jessie startled, realizing too late that Dr. Tan had assumed Cade was related to her. She modestly tried to yank down the thin cotton gown that presently stopped midthigh. “Where’s Remy? I thought she was coming.”

  Cade leaned around the partly closed door. “She stepped outside to take a call. When the doctor motioned for me to come, I thought maybe there was some kind of emergency. Are you okay? Is your ankle broken?”

  “Too early to tell for sure. I need to see a specialist next week.” She swallowed. “Um…I guess that means I need a place to stay. Are you still okay with Remy and me moving in?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “They’re fitting me for a soft cast. They’re bulky and awkward, so I probably won’t be able to drive. That was part of the bargain.”

  “Right. Well, I followed your sister the whole way here, and she seems like a very safe driver, so…maybe she could handle that part of the deal.”

  “Safe,” she repeated softly. “Yeah, definitely. Remy’s all about playing it safe. Safe job—now defunct. Safe boyfriends—most of them currently married to someone else. Safe life. The only time she took a big risk was when I dragged her to Nashville when we were eighteen.”

  “Nashville? Are you singers?”

  Jessie let her head fall back against the thin, practically flat pillow. She didn’t normally talk about her past, but job interviews were different. Cade was going to be her employer. “Remy has a beautiful voice. I play guitar. We waited tables by day, worked the clubs—really, really small, out-of-the-way clubs—at night.”

  “No big break, huh?”

  She shrugged. “We weren’t that good. But being on stage gave me a leg up in front of the camera, so I have no regrets. And Remy needed to get away for a while. She had… Well, let’s just say it was the right time for both of us to fly the coop. Eventually, she went back, commuted to college from home and got her degree.”

  “And you started doing stunts.”

  She snickered softly. “I wish it were that easy. I followed a boyfriend to L.A. I worked a lot of different jobs, but for recreation, I played beach volleyball on Venice Beach. A guy came up to me and said he was making a commercial, and did I want to be in it? One thing led to another and, before you knew it, I was making low-budget slasher films. Crazy as it sounds, I got my big break because of Katrina.”

  “The hurricane?”

  “Our hometown is about an hour north of New Orleans. I went back to help, and my agent called to tell me a Hollywood director was looking for locals to appear in his next film, which, coincidentally, was about a tourist town hit by a hurricane. He fast-tracked my Screen Actors Guild card and the rest, as they say, was history.”

  “I’m here,” Remy said, bursting through the door so fast she sideswiped Cade. “Oops, sorry. I was on the phone with Bing.”

  “Did she call to say ‘I told you so’?”

  Remy made a face. “No. She called to tell me Shasta got her braces.” To Cade, she said, “Bing is our sister. The youngest of the Bullies. That’s what Jessie and I call our three older sisters. Shasta is about Shiloh’s age. You’re lucky Shiloh has perfect teeth.” She rubbed her thumb and fingers together in the universal gesture of money. “Pri-cey.”

  Jessie sat up. An air-conditioned breeze across her backside reminded her that she wasn’t going anywhere without her clothes. She pointed to the far end of the counter. “The doctor said I could get dressed. Cade, would you mind…?”

  “Oh. Of course. Sorry. By the way,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I need to pick up Shiloh from my sister’s. You have the map, right?” he asked Remy.

  “Right here,” she said, patting her oversize purse. She’d always had hideous taste in purses in Jessie’s opinion. “And thanks to your description, I should be able to find your ranch without getting lost.”

  Jessie stifled a snort. Remy had been known to get lost going to the portable potties at a rock concert. And when did these two get all buddy-buddy, she thought, strangely peeved by their evident camaraderie.

  Not that she was surprised. Remy was beautiful, personable, friendly, easy to like. Nothing like Jessie.

  Why does everything have to be so hard with you, Jessie? their mother had asked the last time they saw each other. A couple of weeks before Mom ate the fateful E coli-laced burrito.

  I don’t know, Mom. I guess I didn’t get the easy gene. A snide comment with several connotations. And given their mother’s undeniable history—bastard twins born with no father named on their birth certificates—it was an obvious slam.

  I suck. No wonder everyone likes Remy best.

  “Jess?”

  “Huh?” She looked between the two, blinking. What had she missed?

  “Cade asked if he should pick up a wheelchair.”

  “Kat’s mom had one before she passed. I don’t know if it was a rental or what, but I could ask.”

  “No,” she cried, swinging her legs around so she could face them. “The doctor’s giving me crutches. I’ll be able to get along fine.”

  “But you said—”

  “I can’t tell you what’s going to happen long-term, but, I promise, if you’re still okay renting to us, one of us will stick around as long as you need help. If I can’t drive for a while, then Remy will have to play chauffeur, but no matter what, we’ll make sure Shiloh’s covered. Is that okay with you, Rem?”

  “I guess so. When do you have to be in Japan?”

  “The tryouts start in mid-August.”

  Cade had one hand on the door. “Is this show the one where people get dunked into water and stuff?”

  “No,” she snapped. Why did everyone always ask that? “Kamikaze pits world-class Parkour athletes against the clock. The top team wins a humongous trophy, but the big-money prize goes to the individual who completes the courses the fastest with the fewest mistakes. Not to be cliché, but the courses are extreme.”

  He didn’t say anything or give her any reason to assume he thought that sounded like a crazy idea, but something his daughter said came back to her. His late wife was an extreme athlete. She died when Shiloh was a baby.

  “You think that’s crazy, right?” Jessie asked.

  “It’s not something I’d do, but you’re an adult. You’re obviously in great condition…except for your foot. I don’t have a problem with your job, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t glamorize the risk when you’re around Shiloh. She has a bit of her mother in her. I didn’t realize that until last winter when I caught her sneaking out of the house to help a seventeen-year-old stable hand who was trying to break a mustang.”


  He looked discouraged, frustrated. “She was only eleven at the time. The kid and I had a long talk. He thought he knew what was he doing, and Shiloh was utterly fearless. But horses are unpredictable, and a range-bred mustang can strike faster than a rattlesnake. She knew the barn was off-limits on a school night, but she went anyway.”

  Risk. Obedience. Respect. Jessie got it. Too bad she’d have probably done the same when she was Shiloh’s age.

  But Jessie was a responsible adult, now. And her sister never broke the rules. So, between the two of them, his daughter should be perfectly safe. “I’ve worked with at-risk girls the past couple of years. We had some success redirecting behaviors. Yoga. Martial arts. Kickboxing. Things like that. Would Shiloh be interested?”

  He smiled. A really nice smile that made her go soft and mushy inside. “She’d probably follow you around like a puppy if you’d take her on as a student, but—” he looked at her foot “—I think it’ll be a while before you’re kickboxing.”

  Her warm feelings disappeared, but he left before she could come up with a snappy reply.

  “He’s cool,” Remy said. “You like him.”

  “Hand me my pants,” Jessie snapped. It sounded a great deal more adult than what she almost said: “Nuh-uh.”

  She did like him, but she had no intention of acting on those feelings. She had a pretty crappy track record with men she didn’t have any financial dealings with; she hated to think how badly she’d screw up things by dating her landlord. And, Kamikaze or no Kamikaze, going back to L.A. was not in the cards at the moment. Was it cowardly of her hide out in the Black Hills? Not cowardly, circumspect.

  “Lie low for a few weeks,” Zane had advised. “Let the legal system do its thing. When the truth comes, everyone will know Dar screwed you over and stole from those needy kids.”

  Speaking of Zane… “Do you have my phone?”

  “Yeah, but the battery is dead. I turned it off a few minutes ago. Cade said something about ‘roaming.’”

  Great. A bum foot, a nosy sister and a useless phone. “Things just don’t get any better,” she muttered under her breath. “Where’s that doctor with my crutches?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CADE SAT IN THE CAB OF his truck in the hospital parking lot, not bothering to start the engine. He needed a minute to sort through his thoughts. He still couldn’t quite believe his carefully considered plan to rent his dad’s house until Buck finally “found God” or himself or whatever the goal of this self-imposed quest turned out to be was this close to fruition.

  He’d asked his sister to put some feelers out. Less than a day later, he had an email from Jessie Bouchard. On paper, she seemed like the perfect renter: didn’t smoke, short-term, low maintenance—as in no dogs, cats or kids. When he checked out her website, he was sold.

  The nonprofit she supported was called Girlz on Fire. She even volunteered when she wasn’t jumping off buildings and rolling cars. The stated goal of the organization was to serve at-risk teenage girls. Shiloh wasn’t officially a teen, but she wasn’t his sweet, happy, easygoing little girl, either.

  He wished he knew how that had happened. He’d been certain he and his daughter had the perfect relationship. It had been the two of them against the world since she was three. He hadn’t tried to shield her from ranch life or rodeos or any of the things her mother loved—except barrel racing. He’d never lied about Faith’s career or her passion for the sport that killed her, but he encouraged Shiloh to explore other hobbies: dance, karate, gymnastics, soccer.

  His job didn’t always mesh with his daughter’s schedule, but he’d sidestepped career advancement in ways Faith never would have. And he’d been certain his diligence as a parent had paid off. He and Shiloh were on the same wavelength. Until the night he walked into that barn and saw his daughter leading an unbroken two-year-old mustang around a pen.

  “She is her mother’s daughter,” Faith’s mother had predicted before her death when Shiloh was six. “She always was a wild one.” Faith, not Shiloh. Cade had made damn sure of that.

  Or had he?

  Shiloh was the reason Cade was sitting in this parking lot today. He’d needed to find someone to fill his father’s shoes while he was away. Was Jessie Bouchard the right person?

  He didn’t know. Her twin seemed sweet, demure and mannerly. The perfect role model for an impressionable young teen.

  But Jessie was the twin he couldn’t get out of his head.

  He let out a sigh and put the key in the ignition. Before he could start the engine, his phone rang.

  He glanced at the screen, his eyes widening in surprise.

  “Buck?”

  “Damn,” the voice on the other end of the line cursed. “You were starting to call me Dad again. Now, we’re back to Buck.” His father sighed. “I guess I should have expected that, given the way I left things.”

  Cade wouldn’t argue the point. “What do you want? Has something changed?” Knowing Buck, that could mean anything.

  “No. I still plan to stick with this spiritual retreat. We only have a few chances to call. I wasn’t going to bother you, but I saw a hummingbird zipping around a sage and I thought of Shiloh. How’s she doing?”

  Like you care. Like you ever cared. “She’s fine. We made your bison chili recipe this morning.”

  “Oh, man, that sounds good. We eat a lot of vegetables here. And tofu,” Buck said, his tone a bit baffled.

  Well, you’re the one who had to go all the way to California to make peace with your maker, Cade almost said. He didn’t. He held his tongue and let the emptiness between them fill the line.

  “Where is my granddaughter? May I talk to her?”

  “She’s at Kat’s. I’m on my way there now to pick her up. I told you before you left that I might look into renting your house. Well, I sealed the deal with one of the stuntwomen from the Sentinel Passtime show. Her name is Jessie Bouchard. Unfortunately, she had a little mishap this morning. Twisted her ankle pretty bad. She’ll be on crutches for a while, but she still wants to rent the place.”

  Buck didn’t reply right away. When he did, his tone was somber and reflective. “You always were a big-hearted kid. You were the only one who was nice to Helen.”

  Cade didn’t like to think about that time in his life. Chaos didn’t come close to describing the petty war carried on between his older siblings and Helen’s three brats. As the youngest of the six, Cade had done his best to disappear. Sometimes that had meant hiding behind his stepmother’s skirts.

  Buck sighed weightily, then added, “I did love her, son. More than I realized. That’s why her death hit me so hard. I have to try to figure out how something so good and real could turn so ugly and mean.”

  “I hope the retreat helps, Dad.” The man had put Cade’s name on the deed and all the bank accounts before he left. Unfortunately, that good fortune brought along a whole hell of a lot more responsibilities. Time-consuming responsibilities. “I have to go now. Shiloh’s waiting.”

  “I knew you weren’t gonna be happy about this, son, but you gotta admit, this is a lot better than me sitting around drowning my sorrows in a bottle.”

  Cade had to give him that one.

  “Just one thing, Cadence.” Helen was the only person who ever called him that. “Is she pretty?”

  “Who?”

  “That stunt gal who’s moving into my house. Is she easy on the eyes?”

  Cade started to grin. “Yeah, Dad. They both are.” He pretended to stop and think a second. “Wait. Did I forget to mention that Jessie has an identical twin named Remy and they’re both gorgeous? Yep, that new pool you put in for Shiloh is going to be looking pretty nice in a few weeks. You enjoy that tofu, now. See you in August. Bye.”

  He was still smiling when he pulled out of the parking lot.

  “WOW. THIS PLACE IS unbelievable,” Jessie said, rolling down her window as they passed under a massive arch of metal and carved wood. Garrity Ranch.

  The car�
�s right front tire hit a pothole and the crutches she’d been given toppled sideways, nearly smacking her in the face. She shoved them between the seats, but the big rubber tip on one of them got wedged beneath the sole of her snow-boot-size protective brace.

  “What do you think of my designer footwear?” she asked. “Doesn’t it remind you of that nursery rhyme where the lady has too many kids? I remember thinking that was our life—particularly when Mom’s friends came over with their broods.”

  “That was the best part of Mama’s house, for me,” Remy said. “The Bullies were always in and out with their friends. They had the coolest clothes and…oh…the perfume.” She inhaled deeply as if smelling something besides the faint locker-room scent of the car.

  “They were stuck-up cows—just like the Bullies.”

  Remy frowned but she didn’t refute the charge. Instead, she said, “I’m going to blame your negatively slanted memory on that shot the nurse gave you in the butt for pain.”

  “Yes, you are a pain in the butt,” Jessie joked. “Finally something we agree on.”

  She could tell by Remy’s tight-lipped profile she wasn’t amused.

  “Speaking of pain, I don’t have any. Isn’t that cool?”

  “It won’t last,” Remy said sagely.

  “Nothing ever does.”

  Jessie closed her eyes and let her head rest against the seat. The bounce and jolt of the gravel road should have prompted her to check out the landscape of her new, albeit temporary, home, but all she really wanted to do was sleep.

  Damn painkillers. When she’d been hospitalized as a child, she’d come to hate the gray numbing fog each IV brought. She should have welcomed the brief cessation of red-hot pokers tormenting her back, but, without her mother by her side, Jessie was afraid she’d drift so far into the fog she’d never be able to find her way out.

  “Remy? Can I ask you something?”

  “Yes.”