Morgan squinted, unsure how to react to a side of Jesse she'd never seen before. Hell, she didn't even know it existed.
Jesse turned her back to Morgan and headed to the barn. She kept an eye on her boss out of the corner of her eye because she was pretty sure she'd need a good head start to be able to outrun her if she had to.
Morgan scratched her head as she watched her go. “Well, I'll be damned." When Jesse went into the barn and closed the door, Morgan walked up to Ryland and put her arm around her. “Maybe you do know what you're doing after all."
"Well, thanks for that vote of confidence." She leaned into Morgan and they watched as Carrie finished rubbing Cody's fingers in the black ink and rolling his fingerprints onto the ten-print card. He was sullen as she closed the ink pad, put away the roller and set the card on the hood to dry.
The sheriff spoke none too kindly. “You're free to go now, Cody, but don't go too far. I might want to talk to you some more once we get these print comparisons back."
Cody turned to Morgan, who motioned toward the house.
"Come up to the house and I'll write your termination paycheck."
She shook hands with the sheriff, then walked back up the path, Ryland next to her and Cody walking about ten paces behind. She made him wait outside while she added up what she owed him and wrote out a check.
When she handed it to him, he grabbed it and snarled, “You perverted dykes are all alike. You and that baby dyke better watch your backs!" He walked to the gate, climbed over and headed toward town, unaware of the rage he'd left simmering behind him.
Ryland put her arm through Morgan's and leaned against her.
“He's not worth it, Morgan. Let it go."
Morgan nodded and started back toward the barn.
"Morgan?"
Morgan stopped and waited, too angry to speak right then.
Ryland waited as well. “Morgan, look at me, please."
Morgan let out a breath and turned, innate courtesy the only thing keeping her from rudely walking away.
"Don't take your anger at Cody out on Jesse or Rico. Go for a ride, or we can go for a walk, but give yourself time to calm down."
Morgan knew she was right. She recognized when she was about to blow, and just now, she'd been as close to being arrested for assault as she'd ever been in her life.
The sheriff pulled his car up to the house. He walked over to the gate, opened it for the I.D. van, then closed it after Carrie drove through.
Ryland smiled graciously. “Michael, do you have time to stop in for a cup of coffee? I put on a fresh pot when I saw you driving down to the barn."
He took off his hat and followed her up to the door, turning to see whether Morgan was coming in as well. Morgan had already started to the barn, so he shrugged and went in to visit and enjoy some of Ryland's wonderful coffee.
Morgan walked into the barn and grabbed Somerset's halter.
She stalked past Jesse, who was finishing up with her sweeping.
Jesse swept the last of the dirt into the dustpan and dumped it into the trash barrel. The broom and pan hung on pegs next to the halters, and after she put them away, she reached up and grabbed Barney's halter. Jesse passed Morgan as her boss brought Somerset out and tied him to a ring. She sensed the tension in the air, and wasn't sure whether it was directed at her or at something else.
When she brought Barney out and tied him next to Somerset, Barney turned his hindquarters to the big bay and pushed him into Morgan, who was brushing him on the other side.
Morgan angrily walked in front of Somerset, untied Barney and moved him three rings away. She retied the rope and went back to brushing Somerset without a word to Jesse.
Jesse leaned on Barney's hindquarters and studied Morgan, wondering what exactly was going on.
Morgan glared at her. “Don't you have work to do, or do I pay you to stand around and do nothing?" She continued brushing as she spoke, working her way around the horse, checking for any sores or cuts as she went.
Jesse reached for a brush and started on Barney. "In town the other day, I talked to a guy I used to work with at a farm in Georgia. He's lookin' for work, and he's worked hounds before."
Morgan put her brush away and walked into the tack room to get her blanket and saddle. She came back out and saddled Somerset.
Jesse moved to Barney's neck as she brushed. “You'd probably like him. He's into that 'Yes Ma'am, no Ma'am' shit. But he's not like Cody; he really means it."
Morgan went in and brought out Somerset's bridle. She undid his halter, slipped it off his head and re-buckled it around his neck.
She put the bridle on and un-hooked the halter again.
Jesse bent over and picked up Barney's front hoof. “Nobody'd told him yet what a mean S.O.B. you are to work for. You might be able to get him."
Morgan stopped, walked up behind Jesse and leaned over her, one hand on Barney's withers, the other on her hip. Jesse had to tilt her head upside down to see Morgan's face. She shrugged. “You want me to tell him to come see you?" Jesse let Barney's hoof down, moved out from under Morgan and stood up.
Morgan growled. “Does he have your smart mouth?"
Jesse shook her head. “Nope."
"Then tell him he's hired." With that, she led Somerset out of the barn and went for a two-hour ride.
Chapter Twenty
The next morning, a tall, good looking African American was waiting in front of the barn as Morgan walked down at four-thirty to help Rico feed the hounds. The man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, came over to meet her, took off his baseball cap and held out his hand. "Ms. Davis? I'm Anthony Cawfield. Jesse told me you might have a job for me?"
Morgan took his hand and was impressed with his dry, firm grip and the calluses on his palm. "Good Morning, and yes, I'm Morgan Davis. Jesse said you'd worked with hounds before?"
"Yes Ma'am. I was a K-9 handler in the military for nine years, then went to work on my uncle's farm in Georgia, helping with his hounds. Maybe you knew him—James Cawfield?"
Morgan nodded. “I know of him, I've never met him. He's strictly a breeder, right?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"Why aren't you working for him anymore?"
"He passed on six months ago. My aunt had to sell everything."
"I'm sorry for your loss." She paused, sizing up the man who held his six-foot frame straight and proud. "Minimum wage, work starts at four-thirty, ends when I say so. You have a problem with that?"
He smiled, flashing a set of straight, white teeth. “No Ma'am.
Um…." He scratched his head, looking a little sheepish. “I know she recommended me for this job, but exactly how close do I have to work with Jesse?"
Morgan returned his smile and glanced at the barn. “She works the barn. You, Rico and I work the farm, the kennels and the hounds."
Anthony tried not to look too relieved. "That'll be fine, then."
The two of them walked behind the barn to the kennels and Morgan introduced Anthony to Rico. The men shook hands, and Anthony started speaking fluent Spanish, which delighted Rico no end.
"I'm going to leave Rico to train you for a short time this morning. I've got a few errands I need to run in town. Where'd you learn to speak Spanish like that?"
"My father was in the military, and we were stationed in Spain for several years. My parents believed in full immersion wherever we lived, so I also speak fluent German and some Japanese, although I had a harder time with that."
"You're an educated man. Why would you want to work on a farm for minimum wage?"
"It's in my blood. My grandfather farmed and then, of course there was my uncle. It's what I've wanted to do since I was a little boy, and now I have the chance to do it."
That was something Morgan understood. She'd never wanted to do anything except farm and foxhunt for as long as she could remember. Rico, who'd waited patiently while the two of them talked, dipped his head and touched the brim of his hat when she turned and headed to
the barn.
Jesse stood at the feed table measuring oats and vitamins, planning out her day which included trying to go into town that evening to find Cody. When she heard Morgan come in, she finished Aristotle's measure, grabbed an armful of hay and went to deliver his breakfast. When she returned, Morgan was reading through the horse notebook.
"Ryland says to tell you your mini-vacation is over and she wants us there at one today. I have to go into town this morning to pick up some things. You're going with me, so don't disappear when you're done feeding and cleaning that mess of hay you drop every time you feed one of the horses."
Jesse went to the feeding table and mumbled. “Well if you'd buy a decent wheel barrow maybe I wouldn't have to hand carry every fuckin' flake of hay."
Morgan glanced up from the book. “Yes Ma'am was all you had to say. I don’t need to hear your excuses."
"It wasn't an excuse."
Morgan set the book on the table. “Do you remember that 'yes Ma'am, no Ma'am shit' Anthony is so good at?
Jesse nodded.
"You'd better start being good at it, right now."
The headaches had been coming more frequently the last few days, and they'd put Jesse in a foul mood. Once the oat can was ready, she picked it up and went to get a flake of hay. She purposely dropped hay onto the floor as she walked down the aisle, and kicked it on her way back up, sending it flying in various directions.
Morgan started to bite, then backed off. When Jesse returned to the table, Morgan put her hand behind Jesse's head and made her look at her. “Okay, what's wrong? You've been churlish the last three days, more so than usual if that's possible, and I'm getting tired of it. What's going on?"
"Churlish?"
"Bitchy, boorish, impolite, cantankerous, rude, ill-tempered—
need I go on?"
Jesse backed away from Morgan, banged the can on the table and started measuring. “Nothing's going on. I'm fine."
"There'd better be something going on, or you and I are gonna lock horns the next time you push. Now what is it?"
"My head's been pounding the last couple of days, all day and all night. I'm just tired of it, that's all."
"Did you tell Ryland?"
Jesse finished measuring the next mixture and went to grab another flake of hay. As she walked down the aisle, she said something Morgan couldn't quite make out. Morgan leaned against the table and waited for her to finish delivering Rebel's breakfast.
"What did you just say? I couldn't hear you." Morgan decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she wasn't muttering something rude under her breath again.
"I said, I think something bad's gonna happen today."
She considered that a second. "Listen, finish up with the feeding and cleaning, then come up to the house for breakfast and we'll ask Ryland about your headaches." Morgan closed the notebook and shelved it along with some equine reference books she kept on hand. "By the way, if you find anyone else like Anthony, let me know."
Jesse nodded and Morgan left the barn and walked up the path toward the house. The leaves had completely fallen from the trees a few weeks earlier, and the carpet of brown under her feet felt soft beneath her leather riding boots. It was five-thirty when she walked in the house, and Ryland was up making coffee and cinnamon rolls for breakfast.
Morgan walked over to the counter and pulled out a stool.
“Jesse says she's had one solid headache the last two days."
Ryland set the timer for the rolls and shut the oven door. “I know, I've been watching her. To be honest, I'm really not looking forward to today's session. I need your help to steady her, but if she starts to see you in the dirt room, I'll have to have you leave again.
It's kind of a catch-22."
Morgan reached over and took down two coffee cups from a cup tree next to the coffee pot. She poured the coffee, then added cream and sugar to Ryland's and left hers black. "So, explain again why she's seeing me in that room?"
Ryland took a sip of her coffee, and swallowed slowly, savoring the warmth. “Something mind wrenching happened at this juncture of her captivity, and her subconscious is doing everything it can to prevent her from having to remember or relive it again. You are Jesse's protector—her strength, if you will—and her subconscious has convinced itself that if you're there, you can stop whatever happened."
"How can it be worse than being nailed to a board, bitten by rats, and having a dead man's bloody head on your face? What could possibly be worse than that?"
Ryland opened the sugar bowl and scooped two more teaspoons into her coffee. “One thing I learned over the years is that, to a certain type of personality—you and Jesse, for example—
some kinds of emotional abuse or control are more debilitating than physical abuse. We'll just have to see what comes up."
"I was going to take her to town with me today to help load the grain bags into the truck, but as nasty as she's been lately, maybe I should leave her here."
"You're the one who pointed out that she has to function as an employee while she's going through this. Don't start slacking off and letting her get away with murder. If you do, it'll come back to bite us in her therapy."
They heard knocking on the front door, and Morgan grumbled.
“Why can't she just come in like we've told her to?"
Ryland covered Morgan's hand on the counter with her own.
“Because she knows it bothers you. Wait here; I'll go get her."
After a few minutes, Ryland returned, trailed by Jesse who pulled out a chair at the table and sat. Ryland poured her a cup of coffee and took the two cups to the table to join her. “So, how are you this morning?"
"Churlish."
Ryland sat back in her chair and Morgan snorted into her coffee cup. Ryland said. “Well, I can see you two have been at it already this morning and it's only six o'clock. I understand your headaches have returned."
The timer for the rolls dinged. Morgan picked up an oven mitt and pulled them out. She slid six onto a plate with a plastic spatula and liberally doused them with some of Ryland's homemade sugar sauce. She took three plates from the cupboard and brought everything over to the table. She reached back for her coffee cup, then sat at the end nearest Ryland.
Jesse followed each step of the process, not that it interested her; she simply didn't want to talk about her headaches. Morgan put a cinnamon roll on Ryland's plate as well as her own, then shoved the rest toward Jesse at the other end of the table.
She didn't make a move to serve herself, and Ryland reached over and began to lift a roll onto her plate. Jesse put up a hand.
“I'm not hungry."
Ryland scooped up the roll anyway and placed it on the plate.
"You've been losing weight these last few weeks, Jess. When was the last real meal you ate?"
Jesse put her head on her hand and rubbed her forehead, eyes closed. "I don't know. I'm just not hungry, that's all. It's no big deal."
Ryland stood up. “How about I fix some eggs and toast? You might be getting headaches because you're not eating."
Jesse pushed away from the table and headed for the back door. “I said I'm not hungry."
Morgan got to the back door first. "Sit down. And when someone offers you food, the polite way to decline is to say 'No thank you.' I have a hard time believing you were never taught manners."
Jesse reached behind Morgan, grabbed the doorknob and touched it for precisely one second. Morgan grabbed her arm and escorted her back to her seat and made her sit. She pointed to the cinnamon roll. “Eat."
Jesse scowled at Morgan, then broke a piece off the roll and stuffed it into her mouth. Her hunger surprised her once she actually tasted some food, and the homemade cinnamon roll with fresh sugar sauce made her feel a little better somehow.
It took about five minutes for Ryland to cook the eggs and toast and put them front of Jesse, who picked up her fork.
“Thanks." She ate slowly, not sure whether the food wa
s going to upset her stomach since she really hadn't eaten anything in days.
Morgan sat at the end of the table, arms crossed, waiting for Jesse to disrespect Ryland again. When she heard 'thanks', she raised her eyebrows and muttered. “Well, the gods be praised."
Both Jesse and Ryland glared at her while she stared back at them. Once everyone was finished, Morgan gathered the dishes and put them in the sink. “Jesse, you wash while I get everything I need for town. Ryland, thank you for a wonderful treat." She kissed Ryland's cheek, then went out into the living room.
Jesse walked over and began rinsing dishes and pans. Ryland came up behind her and laid her hand on Jesse's shoulders. “It'll be all right, Jesse. We'll get through it together."
Jesse shook her head. “Something bad's gonna happen, Ryland. I don't know what; I just feel it." She put a clean plate on the countertop and Ryland opened the dishwasher and started loading.
"We'll get through it together, Jess. Bad things happen, and people survive. You've already survived what actually happened.
We just need to bring the memory out, examine it, and take its power away."
Morgan yelled through the house as she opened the front door,
"Jesse, let's go."
Jesse held the last dish under the tap and let the water wash away the soap. “What if—" She blushed a deep shade of red.
“Never mind." She set down the plate and started for the door.
Ryland reached for her arm and pulled her around. “Jesse, without thinking, what's the first word that comes to your mind, right now?"
"Humiliation." Although it didn't seem possible, the red intensified.
Morgan had pushed open the kitchen door, ready to grab Jesse and go, but when she heard how Jesse answered Ryland's question, she quietly came in and stood next to them.
Ryland reached up and pushed some of Jesse's short hair behind an ear. “You'd better go now. Remember, what happened is in the past, and nothing you remember and tell us will push us away from you."
Jesse fought back tears. “What if it pushes me away from you?"
Ryland pulled her close and wrapped her arms around her. She rubbed her back and said softly, “Don't ever give that man that kind of control over you. If you push away from us, he wins."
The Door at the Top of the Stairs Page 15
