by Christa Wick
Chapter Five
Shutting the front door on the attorney three hours later, Lindy rolled her eyes as she braced her back against the wall. Looking at Barrett and Quinn, she grimaced.
“Think I need to lock it?”
Barrett cleared his throat. “Cross is too busy scurrying back to his office so he can transfer the money from the estate’s account to his own for today’s hours of ‘service.’”
“If he’s going to bill the estate for time spent sitting around my library, scrolling through his phone and drinking my coffee while he waited for the judge’s clerk to call back,” Lindy huffed. “I should send him a bill!”
Her expression slid from indignant to disappointed.
“If the two of you are spending the night out in that neck of the woods, you have a lot of running around to do before the sun goes down. You still don’t have a second truck, for starters.” She patted Barrett’s arm. “Sage had yours towed like you asked, but Cole said it will be at least a few weeks for a repair between sourcing the part and shipping.”
Walking past them in the entry hall, Lindy crooked her finger for Barrett and Quinn to follow.
“We’ll have to save the reminiscing for Sunday dinner,” she said, throwing a warm smile over her shoulder at Quinn. “I’ll get Aunt Dotty down. She’ll have a lot more pictures of Jester. They’re of the same age. And I’m sure almost everyone has a story to share about him, too.”
Quinn’s feet dragged as they walked through a massive dining room. The table that stretched from almost one end of the room to the other was twice as long as the library’s and, like the table upstairs, seemed to have had its top piece cut from a single tree.
Through the contraction of muscles in her chest, Quinn felt layers of steel coiling around her heart. The Turks were a wealthy family. She was nothing more than a charity case to these people, their selection of her as a beneficiary tied to their fondness of her dead relative.
“It’s a beauty, isn’t it?” Barrett asked, catching her gaze on the table. “Mama’s daddy cut and milled the tree. I remember trying to help plane it when I was about the same age as Leah. Of course, my older brothers helped granddad and they only credit me when they find a flaw.”
Listening to the way Barrett’s voice deepened as he thought of a past surrounded by his family, Quinn knew she could easily in love with the man. Maybe part of her already was. That’s why the steel wall had sprung up so quickly.
For the next ninety days, she would walk a thin line, constantly balancing between preserving the Turks’ generosity and protecting her heart.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” she answered, looking at him and not the table or any other part of the room.
Smiling, Barrett wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her into a kitchen that was every bit as impressive as the dining room.
“It used to be,” Lindy said, pulling a key and fob from a larger ring. “That it was more than family at the table. The single ranch hands would supper with us, especially on Sundays. That’s why there’s two of everything in here.”
She handed the key and fob to her son.
“Nowadays, a lot more of the ranch hands are married and the single ones would rather microwave and eat on paper plates than help with the cooking and cleaning.”
“Crazy,” Barrett chimed in. “You haven’t eaten until you’ve had Mama’s cooking.”
With a grin and a raised finger, Lindy moved over to the oven, its temperature set to warm.
“Speaking of which, I started this warming when I popped out of the library. I know the two of you have a lot to prepare, but you can have a nice warm meal before you head out. I also pulled the ice chest from storage. I’ll get some snacks and sandwiches in there for your dinner and breakfast.”
“This is wonderful,” Quinn said as Lindy slid two fat slices of lasagna onto some plates. “I was starting to get a little famished. Surprising how much energy can go into watching Mr. Cross staring at his phone for three hours.”
“Nerves, dear,” Lindy said. “But the worst of it is over. The rest is just learning to live on the land. And you’ve only got to be there overnight. You come and keep me company as many days as you want.”
Quinn might have burst into tears at the woman’s generosity if Leah hadn’t marched in and tugged on her grandmother’s sleeve with a very important announcement.
“Leah hungry, too.”
* * *
Driving separate vehicles, Quinn and Barrett agreed to meet at the hangar and then drive in tandem the rest of the way to Jester’s property. En route to the landing strip, Barrett would pick up a few items to make their overnight stay easier. Quinn used the time to buy some personal supplies at the truck stop and check her email before she lost cellular services for the night.
Seeing the most recent message, she regretted pulling the phone from her pocket.
You can’t hide from me, FAT LOSER. I am ONE with the machine.
Nope, Quinn thought, thumbing through to her contacts list and putting a block on her half-sister Naomi’s number. Still a few months short of seventeen, the teenager had twice found a way to rip Quinn’s world apart. Quinn wouldn’t give her a chance to ruin Montana, too. Heaven forbid Naomi found out about Jester specifically leaving her and their mother out of the will. Little sis would kick into Death Angel Overdrive or whatever she called it.
It hurt more than anything to close the door on the possibility of having a real family, but it was time to say goodbye to everyone she knew in L.A. if she wanted to survive.
Lowering the window, Quinn headed for the hangar, the wind kissing her face.
An hour later, she spotted Barrett with his borrowed truck parked near the road, the vehicle’s nose out like he had already been to the hangar and turned around. Braking, she let him pull out in front her.
Once they turned off the county road and onto her uncle’s property, both vehicles moved at a crawl. The sun had set. What little bit of twilight still clung to the sky couldn’t penetrate the trees that survived the fire.
In Quinn’s mind, the conflagration had taken a path that seemed aimed solely at keeping her from having someplace to stay and a way to report to the attorney. But Barrett explained there were some natural barriers that kept the fire from jumping across to destroy most of her land. She was blessed, he told her, with two streams running through the property and a spring fed pond. Pinned in between the streams, the fire had rushed up one side of the mountain then stalled when it came to the wide band of exposed rock that bordered the pond.
Reaching the naked hilltop, Quinn parked the truck but kept her lights on. There was nothing to see but ashes, a cast iron stove and a few other scraps of metal with a melting point higher than what the fire had reached.
Barrett pulled the ice chest and several pieces of camping equipment from his truck.
“Despite the fire, this is the best spot on the property to rebuild. But you’ll want to add in some fast-growing trees to shelter against the wind in winter. You can also add in a fire break by bringing in some rocks and gravel.”
Watching him unfold the tent, Quinn’s brows shot up, but she didn’t say anything about its size. Big as Barrett was, she didn’t think he could fit in it, even if he was sheltering alone. She wasn’t sure she’d fit in it, either.
Grabbing a sleeping bag, he unrolled it in the tent then spread the second one alongside a ring of rocks around a small pit.
“I brought some wood from my pile so we wouldn’t have to source any in the dark,” he said.
Quinn peeked into the back of his truck, kicking herself for not checking if there was anything he needed help with.
Seeing half a dozen big logs and an armful of small branches, she pulled one log out and took it over to the pit. Returning to the truck, she passed Barrett carrying the three biggest logs in his arms. She pulled the remaining two logs to the side of the truck, cradled one in her arm then tried to pick up the second with her free hand
.
Grunting, she heard Barrett chuckle, then his broad chest slid against her back as he reached down the length of her arm and took the last log.
“Oh, no you don’t,” she admonished when he also tried to take the log she cradled. “I have to learn how to carry my weight out here.”
“Fair enough.”
Back at the truck, he lifted out a canvas camping chair, handed it to her then carried its twin over to the fire pit after piling the branches across its seat.
“Why don’t you see what Mama put in the cooler for us while I get a fire going.”
“That lasagna was so good,” Quinn groaned. “I don’t suppose she’s figured out how to put it in sandwich form.”
“I tried that once,” he admitted. “It didn’t turn out like you might think it would.”
Laughing, she pulled out a water and handed it to him.
“Actually, it probably did turn out like I think it would. A delicious mess.”
The fire blazed to life. She sniffed the air, wondering if he had sprayed some kind of lighter fluid on the wood. Detecting no sign of an accelerant, she leaned forward for a better look at how he had piled the branches around the first log.
“Is it the structure that made it catch so fast?”
“Nope.” He pulled out a plastic bag she hadn’t noticed before. It was full of thick dust particles. “I save the dust when I’m cutting up logs. Have to be careful, though, or you’ll lose your eyebrows.”
“Noted.” She settled into the chair and handed him a wrapped sandwich.
“Let’s see, potato salad.” She handed Barrett a fork and one of two serving sized containers with identical contents. “And some baked beans. Breakfast is fruit and some instant oatmeal cups.”
“With six kids, Mama’s a regular field marshal.”
“Tell me about them,” she asked, taking a bite of the sandwich, her taste buds going wild over the flavor of home cooked roast beef.
Between bites, Barrett told her about his siblings. He started with his sister Dawn, his voice rough as he skimmed past her death the year before. Then he moved on to Adler, the oldest, and his wife Sage. Adler ran the ranch and had been a bona fide rodeo star before that, Barrett stated with pride. Walker ran the timber side of the family business. Everybody joked that he practically lived in the trees before he cut them down because it was hard during cutting season to peel him away from work. Then there were the twins, Sutton and Emerson. Emerson, the younger of the two, had been back east working for the FBI. He was still in the FBI but had gotten a promotion and was running one of the satellite offices in Montana. No chance, Barrett lamented, that his little brother was home for good.
“Too ambitious,” he told Quinn. “And no taste for ranching or timber.”
“And Sutton?” She yawned as she asked about the other twin. She tried to hide it behind her hand, but it contorted her entire face.
“Maybe we save him for tomorrow and you crawl into your sleeping bag inside the tent.”
She frowned. She had known from the beginning when she saw the separate bag by the fire that Barrett was giving her the tent. She hadn’t liked the idea then and she didn’t like it now.
“It’s not right—”
“We go for days sleeping in the woods,” he interrupted. “We don’t strap tents or sleeping bags to our jumpsuits. So don’t worry about me. Having a bag is like a night at the Hilton.”
“Okay,” she relented, crawling backward into the tent.
Leaving the flap up, she watched him put another log on the fire and crawl into his sleeping bag. After a few seconds, he zipped it up to his chest.
Even in the dark, with just the fire lighting his body, Quinn liked watching him move. She didn’t think anyone that big could be so graceful or quiet settling into place.
Looking over, Barrett caught her watching him.
“Thank you,” she said, her hand reaching out to pat his arm. “I can’t put into words how grateful I am for everything you’ve done. If the cell tower was up and I was out here alone this first night, I would be in my truck, a huddled mess spooking at every noise.”
She patted his arm again, this time her hand resting against his flesh instead of moving away.
“Being around someone so brave makes me feel braver.”
“You’re plenty brave on your own, Quinn.”
She could hear the sincerity in his voice, but she scoffed anyway.
“Don’t you go snorting at me, Miss Whitaker,” he teased. “You set out on an adventure from California to Montana, leaving people you knew.”
“Really, that’s not—”
“I’m an expert on bravery.” He twisted in his sleeping bag until he was propped up on his forearms, one hand capturing hers. “I learned to jump out of the planes in the Army. I met a lot of brave men in the years I served. I witnessed it in my brothers, too. Sutton has a purple heart. Emerson hunts terrorists. Walker basically plays dodgeball with trees that weigh as much as a train. Adler not only risked his life in the rodeo, but it’s on his shoulders whether or not the ranch flourishes or fails. Same goes for Walker with the timber business.”
His fingers softly stroked the back of Quinn’s hand.
“But, one thing is for certain, if you’re going to stay up here on your own, you need to learn how to shoot. Unless you know how already?”
“I don’t,” she answered. “There were never any guns around my house growing up—which is a good thing.”
She stiffened, hoping Barrett didn’t feel the change and couldn’t read her expression in the firelight.
“Why’s that?”
Her mouth flattened. If she answered him, she would be talking about people who weren’t there to defend themselves. It didn’t matter that they had no defense. She didn’t want Barrett to see her as some kind of victim to take pity on. Lots of people had mean, crazy mothers and siblings.
Barrett squeezed Quinn’s hand.
“I have a feeling that people might have been treating you wrong most of your life. I hope one day you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me about it.”
“I didn’t know big burly guys were allowed to have a sensitive side,” she teased before his kindness could turn her into a waterfall.
“Hard shell, gooey interior,” he joked back. “A big part of it is from growing up around Dawn. You can imagine being the only girl surrounded by five brothers. She could hold her own with any one of us, but we weren’t above ganging up when we thought she was getting special treatment as the only girl, like telling her she was adopted…”
Letting go of Quinn’s hand, he swiped at his jaw before adding another log to the fire. When he settled back in place, he scooped her hand into his once more.
“When you start to get grown and you make your little sister cry for the first time, I mean really, really cry—it’s like getting gored by a bull.”
“Wait, you’ve been gored by a bull?”
“Ah, well…sort of.”
She could tell by Barrett’s voice that he was blushing. Even though the glow of the fire on his face was pure magic, Quinn wished she was looking at him daylight.
Sitting up, Barrett lifted just the side of his shirt then guided her fingers to where there was a sharp dip in his skin right below the edge of the bottom rib.
“Fortunately there’s not much useful there in terms of organs. And the horn didn’t go in but a few inches.”
Pulling the shirt down, he retreated. Quinn drew her hand to her chest, her fingers tingling from where they’d been in contact with his warm flesh.
Fiddling with the zipper on his sleeping bag, Barrett cleared his throat.
“Making Dawn cry like she did, it hurt worse. A man can be kinda proud about being dumb enough to get a bit of bull horn in him. There’s nothing but shame in hurting a woman.”
“Thank you,” Quinn whispered as she reached out one last time to briefly touch his arm.
There was just enough light from the fire to see
the question her fresh gratitude had stirred.
“For being open with me like that, for telling me something it hurt you to say. I hope I can be that brave with you one day.”
She pulled down the tent flaps and tugged at the zipper.
“Good night,” she said right before Barrett disappeared from sight.
“Sweet dreams,” he whispered back.
Chapter Six
Hugged by the oversized leather chair in Barrett’s living room, Quinn sat cross-legged with her laptop balanced on her knees. She had run through all the local job listings searching for work that would let her get back and forth to the property for her check-in times. There weren’t any. She might as well be on house arrest given the restraints Cross was imposing.
After reading through local listings, she answered some online ads requesting design help. Then she whipped up a pre-made book cover for the digital store that usually brought in enough money each month to pay her car insurance. The book cover business was the one non-banking area online that Naomi and her hacker boyfriend hadn’t managed to destroy for Quinn. Probably because Quinn kept a separate email account for it.
Right, Wool-for-Brains, no reason not to make new email accounts. Restore the computer to factory settings, too, Quinn decided with Naomi’s last warning still top of mind.
For far too long, Quinn had held out hope that her mother and sister would stop carving her up between them. Avoiding those two entirely was impossible even in a city as big as L.A. But she was as good as invisible out in the middle of nowhere. She hadn’t told a single person where she was going. That made it the perfect time to cut ties completely.
“You okay out there?” Barrett asked from the second bedroom that served as his home office.
Waiting for the water to re-heat after Quinn’s shower, he was processing payroll for his team, invoicing the state, and paying the pilot for time and fuel. Everyone else on his team had an extended weekend to recoup from the fire. But they’d be right back to training come Monday, he told her.
