Jesse nodded and continued to oil the leather.
She intrigued Ryland, who'd spent a lifetime studying people.
"So tell me Jesse, where does your family live? Where do you come from?"
Jesse flexed the muscles in her jaw and silently continued working on the saddle.
Next topic, Ryland thought. She sat forward and tried again.
“What do you do for fun...when you're not working, I mean?"
Jesse dropped the piece of leather she'd been cleaning and reached for the can of Neatsfoot oil. "If you're trying to make polite conversation, you should probably find someone else, ‘cause I'm not interested." Jesse looked up expecting an angry retort, and was surprised to see an amused twinkle in the woman's sapphire-blue eyes.
Ryland leaned back again. “You know, you remind me of someone I once knew. The thought of actually having a friend or caring about someone else absolutely terrified her."
"You playing psychologist now?" Jesse immediately regretted her words. Why did she say things to drive people away? Annoyed with herself, she put the oil away and carried the saddle into the tack room. She felt the other woman's gaze on her as she grabbed the rake and headed for the stall farthest away from Ryland. By the time she'd finished, Ryland had gone back to the house. Jesse worked on the evening chores, then headed for bed.
Chapter Three
"She's a good worker. I just wish she didn't have the personality of a nest of vipers." Morgan reached for another dish to dry and put away. Ryland stood at the sink, elbow deep in soapy water, scrubbing the remains of a baked chicken off a baking pan.
Morgan laughed. “Did I tell you she told John Steinland to piss off? I actually dread going into my own barn if she's there because she brings out the worst in me. She pushes me almost to the edge, then backs down. I don't know why you talked me into hiring her in the first place. She doesn’t belong here."
"She belongs here more than that Cody kid. I don't trust that boy, Morg, and I hope you don't either." Morgan had hired Cody Maitland as a favor to his father after Cody dropped out of college in his third year. Ryland set the pan on the counter ready to be dried and used a hand towel to wipe her hands. "Have you tried talking to her? Maybe even being nice for a change?"
Morgan picked up the pan and ran the dish towel over it. “Sure I've tried. Either she doesn't answer or she snarls like a feral dog. I feel like if I give an inch, she'll run right over me."
Ryland put her hand on Morgan's arm. "She has a strong personality, Morgan, but you're stronger. I've been watching her. It seems to me she needs you to be stronger for some reason. She pushes you to reassure herself that you're in control because I get the feeling her life is totally out of control."
They finished the dishes and carried a bottle of Chenin Blanc into the living room. Ryland poured two glasses and handed one to Morgan as they settled on the couch.
Morgan took a sip. “I don't see how her life is out of control. I think she's too controlled; she needs to loosen up."
Ryland lightly ran her fingers up Morgan's arm. “I think if she loosens up without professional help, she'll come apart at the seams. She's barely holding it together, my love, and she's subconsciously using you as a way to do just that."
Morgan put her head on the back of the sofa. “Great, that's all I need is a nutcase attaching herself to me."
Ryland snuggled closer while she quietly thought about Jesse and sipped her wine. “She's not crazy, Morgan, she's damaged somehow. There's a difference."
Morgan sighed and started to get up to get a slice of apple pie from the kitchen. Ryland pulled her back down, playfully nibbling her ear. "Such a big sigh, Morg. I thought you only sighed when I did this." She ran her tongue around Morgan's ear, then slowly circled her way to the center.
Morgan closed her eyes and sighed again, waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She stood and picked up Ryland, carrying her to the bedroom and kicking the door shut behind them. “Apple pie can wait."
An hour later, all thoughts of Jesse had been wiped from Morgan's mind. She lay with Ryland's head pillowed on her chest, lightly dozing and enjoying the cool breeze wafting through their bedroom window. Nothing mattered more to her than the woman lying in her arms. Easing farther down in the bed, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
It took about two weeks, but Jesse started to fall into a comfortable routine. She kept out of Morgan's way, and Morgan tended to keep out of hers. On this particular day, Jesse had finished her chores for the afternoon and was combing and braiding Kanab's tail. The work numbed her mind and she'd let her attention drift to what she needed to get done that evening.
Cody came into the barn and leaned against the door to the stall. “So, the dykes hired one of their own, huh?"
The voice had the distinctive Midwestern twang of one of the other two hired hands. She didn't jump to the bait. She'd heard Cody sucking up to Morgan, and knew exactly what type of asswipe he was. He watched her for a minute, then said, "How are the threesomes after work? I bet they're enjoying their fresh meat."
Jesse glared at him. His curly brown hair, haughty eyes, and girlish lips reminded her of statues she'd seen of Roman Emperors.
She took a step forward, intending to knock the smirk off his pretty boy face.
Before she had a chance, Morgan walked into the barn. "Cody, we need to get Lucky out of her pen and re-bandage that cut on her left front leg. Can you do that for me?"
Cody walked away from the stall. “Sure thing, Ms. Davis. I'd planned to do that next. I was just taking a minute to welcome the new hired hand to the farm."
Morgan took down the barn notebook and leafed through the pages. "Jesse."
Jesse had returned to braiding and said irritably, "What?"
When Morgan didn't answer, she stuck her head out the stall door.
Morgan was leaning against the supply table, arms crossed, eyes riveted on Jesse, who waited for her to say something.
Morgan kept her voice neutral. “When I call you, either come to where I am or tell me why you can't. An employee does not shout
'what' to her employer."
Jesse shook her head and shut the stall door behind her. She walked over and mirrored Morgan, arms crossed and waiting.
Morgan opened the notebook and pointed to an entry. "You said Comstock has an abscess on his chest. Show it to me, please."
They walked to Comstock's stall where the bay horse waited for them with his head draped over the gate. He stood patiently while Jesse put the halter on, then ran her hand along his chest between his muscular front legs. When she found the abscess, she nodded toward her hand with her chin.
Morgan reached down to feel the swelling. “That’s not an abscess, it’s actually something called a Seroma. Do you want to learn how to drain one of these?"
"I know how to drain one."
Morgan knelt down so she could see the swelling from a better angle. “If you know how to drain it, why didn't you?" When Jesse didn't answer, she stood up and looked at her.
Jesse waited by the stall door, her perpetual glare locked into place.
Morgan rested her hand on Comstock's neck. “Did you think I'd yell at you for mucking around with medical stuff?"
Jesse shifted, but never lowered her eyes.
Morgan bent down again and studied the wound. “Well, you're right, I probably would have. Next time, if you know how to do an easy medical procedure, just do it and note it in the book. But don't do anything if you don't know how. I'd rather you ask than make a mistake. Now go get a bucket of warm, soapy water, a cloth, some clippers and a syringe."
All the specialized equipment was kept in the medical closet.
Jesse brought what Morgan wanted and some extras she thought might be needed. Morgan stepped away from Comstock and motioned for her to work on the wound. “Go ahead. I want to see how much you know."
Jesse set down the bucket and dropped the washcloth into the soapy water. She took out some cordless cli
ppers, shaved around the swelling and washed the fluid filled area thoroughly with the wet cloth. She picked up a 50cc syringe and attached a 10-gauge needle. Comstock stood quietly as she inserted the needle and drew out the infection. She removed the syringe, left the needle in the wound, and injected a saline solution from a second syringe.
When she finished, she cleaned the area again, then stood up and grabbed the bucket. "I'll do him again over the next few days and see how he does. It looks a little infected, but not too bad." She didn't wait for a reply, but turned and took all the equipment out of the stall.
Morgan pulled off Comstock's halter. She needed to go check Lucky, and she slapped Jesse on the back on her way out of the barn. “Good job."
Jesse stared after her as she set down the bucket, surprised at the compliment. Her mood lifted slightly as she took a minute to replace everything she'd brought out. Once she'd finished, she took the notebook down from the shelf and wrote a reminder to Morgan to pick up some more saline solution the next time she went to town.
The clock above the workbench yipped four times, and she glanced up and shook her head. Larger than a standard clock, it boasted a red fox standing on his hind legs, pointing to the numbers with his paws and yipping the hours. Morgan had ordered it from a catalogue. When she'd put it up a few days ago, she'd told Jesse that if she'd learn to listen to the foxes, they'd teach her all of their mysterious secrets. Jesse had rolled her eyes at the time, but as she looked at the clock now, she realized the little guy did make her feel better whenever she heard him announcing the time.
Four o'clock had snuck up on her. She'd worked steadily since four-thirty that morning and she decided a break might help her relax. A series of headaches had plagued her the last few days, each one progressively worse until last night she'd writhed on her bed in agony, expecting her head to explode. She reached up and massaged her neck, rolling her head around on tired shoulders. Fair weather always brightened her day, so she walked out to the front of the barn to sit on a bale of hay, hoping the sunshine would lift her mood.
Beautiful, one-hundred year old Beechnut trees hid the main house from the barn, their canopy of leaves wearing the characteristic bronze gold of late summer. Jesse liked the feeling of being walled in by the huge trees, and she preferred this side of the barn to the back, which opened up onto green, rolling pastures. A winding path led from the barn to the house, and benches had been placed in strategic locations where people could stop to enjoy the view.
Jesse's thoughts wandered to the two-story farmhouse where Morgan and Ryland lived. The farmer who'd built the barn had probably built the house during the same time period. The home could comfortably house a medium-sized farm family, yet it wasn't so big that building it and keeping it would overburden the family finances. The raised porch wrapped around all four sides, with hand-turned Newell posts giving the place a personal touch not often seen on more modern homes. As Jesse absently gazed up the pathway, Ryland walked around one of the bends and called hello when she saw her sitting out front. Jesse acknowledged the greeting with a slight nod of her head.
Ryland took a seat next to her and stretched out her legs. "So, are you getting a feel for the place?"
Jesse pulled out stalks of hay and absently broke them into smaller pieces. "Yeah."
"You have a day off coming up pretty soon. Do you have any plans?" Ryland knew Jesse had stayed in her room on her previous day off, and thought she'd encourage her to get out a little.
"No Ma'am."
Ma'am? A chip of the ice had just come off the iceberg. "Do you like to read?"
Jesse nodded.
"The town has a surprisingly good library. I'd be glad to drop you off sometime." Ryland picked up a hay stalk and began running it through her fingers while she listened to the wind rustling through the leaves in the trees. A raven pinched a beechnut and tossed it through the air, diving on it as it hit the ground, only to toss it away again.
Jesse watched the sleek bird play for a while, then shrugged.
“Thanks, but if I go, I can get there myself."
Ryland turned so she could look directly at Jesse's face. Black half-circles colored the skin beneath her bloodshot eyes, and the sadness she saw brought back memories of patients she'd worked with over the years. "Jesse, is everything all right? You look exhausted."
Jesse shifted on the hay bale, wanting to tell her about the headaches, but hearing herself say instead, "I'm fine, just not sleeping very well."
"Well, if something's bothering you, I'm a very good listener."
Morgan came around the corner and saved Jesse from answering. She stopped a minute to talk to Ryland. “Hi there. What brings you down this way?"
Ryland stood up and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I just came to remind you of the town hall meeting at five-thirty. You have just enough time to shower and change." Morgan glanced at her watch as the two of them started toward the house, but before they'd gone very far, Ryland glanced back over her shoulder. “It was good talking to you, Jesse. And don't forget the library."
Jesse watched them go, then went back inside to finish her work. She'd forgotten she had a day off coming up. Maybe she should go into town, get a good meal for a change, possibly even grab a few books from the library to satisfy Ryland.
Chapter Four
When the day arrived, Jesse fed the horses their breakfast, then hitchhiked into town. A local café with a purple neon sign shouting Smokey Joe’s in oversized letters caught her eye. The interior sported typical small-town décor with purple, backless stools in front of the counter and pink Naugahyde booths lined up against the front windows. Jesse sat in a booth and pulled the one-page menu from between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers.
The waitress stood ready to take her order. The woman, who wasn't much older than Jesse, wore a nametag with Frieda written in bright purple letters. Her sunny smile radiated warmth and good cheer, and she greeted Jesse like she'd known her their entire lives.
“Well, good mornin'! Welcome to Joe’s. What can I get for you today?"
"BLT with fries and a Coke."
"You got it." Frieda yelled the order back to the cook who nodded and disappeared from the serving window. Frieda walked around talking to all her customers, filling coffee cups, then making a second round to fill water glasses. Two men sat at the counter, drinking coffee and soaking slices of bread in fried eggs.
One glanced over his shoulder to stare at Jesse, then elbowed his buddy who turned to say something Jesse couldn't hear.
Frieda slapped him on the head as she passed and Jesse heard her tell them to mind their own business. She picked up a plate from the window and walked back to Jesse's table. "Don't you mind them. They've got no manners, like they was raised up in a pigsty. You're new in town. You just visitin' or you plannin' to stay?"
Jesse took a bite of her sandwich. “Don't know yet."
"How's the sandwich?"
"Fine."
"Where you from?"
"Around."
Frieda lay the bill on the table. "You always talk so much?"
"I rarely talk this much."
The woman smiled, then left to help another customer while Jesse finished her meal in silence. When she paid the bill, she left a hefty tip before walking out onto the street.
The town centered around one main street, with businesses lining both sides and houses stretching out and away from the town proper. She'd started down the graying, cracked sidewalk to find the library when blinking signs in the window of the local bar caught her attention. A cold beer on a warm day always appealed to her, so she opened the door and stepped inside.
The lighting flickered a dim yellow and her eyes took a minute to adjust as she made her way to the back to find a seat. She took an empty table where she could sit with her back up against the wall and watch the other patrons drink their beer or play pool in the corner of the room. The bartender ambled over and took her order. The place could have been a saloon in
any town Jesse had ever lived in. Most of the tables were small and crammed together in the middle of the room to make space for two pool tables at the back. The bartender dodged the scattered tables and returned with her beer while Jesse read the various beer advertisements hanging from the walls and ceiling and admired the nearly naked women gazing out from posters placed strategically around the room.
An argument at another table caught her attention. Two men shouted over a game of cards while a third watched hungrily, obviously hoping for a fight. The room quieted as the smaller of the three stood up and threw his cards at the man he'd accused of cheating.
When the accused stood, Jesse sized him up. He was close to 6'5", easily weighing two hundred fifty pounds. Strange-shaped fish lips stuck out of a bushy beard that hung almost to his chest, and the tattoos covering his arms emphasized solid muscle as they rippled under his shirt.
She turned her attention to the smaller man, who stood maybe 5'4" if he stretched his neck as high as it would go. He was obviously a strong little guy, his shirt stretching tight across a barrel chest.
The short one looked around, then picked up his chair and rammed full force into the other. Both of them went sailing backward onto a nearby table, sending beer bottles flying and people scrambling to get out of their way. Jesse smiled at the little guy's bravado until the third man jumped in and held the short one in a head lock. Her philosophy had always been to let people fight their own battles, but the odds had just turned against the little guy, and that pissed her off.
She slugged down some beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. When the big man hauled back ready to ram his fist into the smaller one’s face, Jesse ran forward, leapt onto a table and threw herself on him, grabbing his head in an arm lock and using her momentum to drag him down to the ground.
The Door at the Top of the Stairs Page 2
