by Devon McKay
Chapter 3
“Another one?”
William stopped her as he removed his hat, wiping the sweat of his brow with the back of his sleeve. Jessie turned away, closing her eyes to shut out the worry she saw in her oldest friend’s stare.
She wanted nothing more than to escape from the barn, avoiding any further eye contact with the man who had known her since the day she was born. Instead, she nodded, swallowing back useless tears of exasperation, refusing to disclose the other thorn in her side—her brief encounter with Nate.
“Yeah, another one... I found it on the east side of the property.” The Walker land. Without success, she attempted to blink away the image of Nate at the fence. “Slaughtered, same as the other two.”
“It’s okay, baby girl. I’ll take care of it.”
Jessie fell into the older man’s arms, welcoming the foreman’s compassionate hug. Before his stroke, her dad would have been the one to tell her everything would be all right, followed by a heartfelt embrace.
Now, she wouldn’t allow herself to talk to him about such matters, too worried it would cause him more stress than his fragile heart could take. Over the last few years, she had turned to William not only for advice with the ranch, but for paternal comfort.
“It’s not an animal killing them,” she said into his chest. He smelled of horses and hay. Of home.
“No, it’s not,” he returned, agreeing with her.
It dawned on her the foreman would’ve already known this, being around animals all of his life. She pulled away. “You knew and didn’t say anything?”
He gave a reluctant nod, and led Lilly to her stable, removing the heavy, leather saddle.
“When?” She searched his face for answers as he placed the seat on top of the stable’s rail, then removed the wool blanket covering the horse’s back. For a man well into his sixties, he was still as strong as an ox.
“After the first one, I called Sheriff Davis out and filed a report. Jessie, you’ve got a lot on your plate. With your dad’s health and all, we thought it best not to tell you.”
“You thought it best not to tell me?” Her temper took control. “Unbelievable! Someone is killing my steers, and you and Sheriff Davis thought it was best not to tell me? This is my ranch. Or did you and the sheriff forget that, too?”
William turned, disappearing through the barn door without another word. Jessie kicked at a bale of hay, holding back a scream of frustration. She’d known better than to start an argument with him anyway. The man had the annoying habit of walking away during a heated disagreement, returning later to discuss the matter after she calmed down.
Maybe it was for the best to let him go. She needed to be alone.
Grabbing her favorite brush, Jessie began grooming Lilly, mindful the brush strokes weren’t as hard as her mood. After a few minutes, her anger started to subside.
William had made the correct decision. In fact, Jessie wouldn’t have accepted anything less from the foreman. The man loved the ranch as much as she did. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth as she brought her hand down with another stroke. He had been right about other things, too—she was in over her head.
She should have called the sheriff. Why hadn’t the thought even crossed her mind?
The answer came easy. Ever since her father’s stroke, Jessie had been relentless, throwing herself into the ranch, working her fingers to the bone, doing anything she could do to forget about her father’s health, and worse...Nate. All of which came at a price.
She put the brush on the rail and paused to give Lilly a handful of grain before leaving the barn. As soon as she stepped foot on the front porch, the screen door to the house opened and her father stepped out.
A slow smile formed on his lips and a “Good morning,” escaped out of the right corner of his mouth. The left side remained stationary, as did the entire left side of his body. A token reminder of his stroke.
Jessie kissed him on the cheek, acknowledging the way he tried so hard to hide his weakness. She sat down on the porch swing, patting the wooden slats on the bench in a silent invitation until he sat down beside her.
“Nate is back in town,” she blurted out. Why did everything seem to circle back to Nate? And she hadn’t even been able to control the words. They simply popped out. In fact, just saying his name invited a dangerous image of the man to appear.
“I know,” her dad said. His face remained expressionless as he stared out into the open fields. She waited with baited breath for any more of a response, knowing it would be a long time before her father revealed what he was thinking.
She released the air from her lungs with a loud, exasperated sigh. Of course he knew, for Pete’s sake. He had a front row seat. Besides, Ennis, Montana was a small town, the population less than a couple thousand people. The entire town would have heard by now.
“What should I do?” Jessie asked, her voice sounding distant. “I thought I was over him.” She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by her own emotions. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if she were some love struck teenager. Not anymore.
“Then last night when I saw him again...and this morning when—” She stopped herself. At least she had enough sense not to mention accusing Nate of killing her steers.
Guilt twisted her guts. What on earth had possessed her to do such a thing? In her heart, she knew he had nothing to do with the deaths of her cattle. However, she still blamed him.
She glanced at her father, comforted by the partial smile he returned.
“I am over him,” she stated. Her mouth tightened in a grim smile. “I’m not stupid enough to love a man like Nate Walker again. Believe me, I learned my lesson the first time. I won’t repeat the same mistake twice.” She tried to sound convincing, but her adamant resolve started to crumble. Jessie picked at a hole in her jeans, tearing at the frayed fabric. Her words didn’t even sound true to her own ears.
“Besides, I have the twins to think about now.”
The warmth of her father’s hand on hers consoled her.
“The twins.”
Jessie’s head snapped up, her stare returning to his face. Happiness shone in his eyes. Her two children were her father’s pride and joy.
He patted her knee gingerly. “Well...if I know you...Jessie...you will...figure it out,” he said, speaking in his slow, thoughtful manner. Another lingering result of his stroke. “When it comes...to Nate Walker...you always do,” her dad continued, his words released at a snail’s pace. “Just remember...even you deserve...to be happy.” He paused to take a deep breath, his brow furrowed in thoughtful consideration. “But...sooner or later...you will...have to tell...him.”
Jessie realized it was all the advice he was going to offer. She’d have to figure it out. And worse, he was right. Sooner or later, she would have to tell Nate about his kids. If he stuck around this time.
Looking at her father again, she couldn’t help but notice the dark circles underneath his wise, gray eyes. She prayed he wasn’t pushing himself past the point of exhaustion, although she knew her concern was wasted.
As if he heard her silent worry, he draped his right arm across her shoulder. She returned the hug, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his weathered cheek, welcoming his attention for a few cherished minutes before pulling away. She had more work to do than time and needed to get it done before her shift started at the Lucky Horseshoe Bar.
She stood, her bones creaking from the physical exertion. She was too young to feel this tired. Shaking off the fatigue, she spared one last, quick scan over the Calhoun land and picked up her favorite cowboy hat, tugging it snugly over her head. She turned back to her father and threw him a quick smile before heading toward the barn where the tractor was stored.
Jessie hesitated by the fence, her thoughts stopping her in her tracks. You deserve to be happy. Her father’s words echoed in her head. She did deserve to be happy. And up until now, she thought she was.
That was before last night, and
before seeing Nate today. How could he? How could he appear out of thin air and throw another wrench in her life?
Sooner or later, you’ll have to tell him.
Her father’s words continued to haunt her, but she ignored the advice, inhaling a deep breath of the country air. Her lungs expanded, taking in the fresh hay and other distinct aromas of the farm.
She was surrounded by the clucking of the free range chickens, the constant bellows of her hungry steers and the early morning greeting of her pygmy goats. The goats! She’d almost forgotten, needing to check the status of one very pregnant mother to be.
This was normal. This was something she could depend on. What she had always wanted. Then, why all of a sudden did she feel these doubts?
Nate Walker.
Exasperated, she fought the urge to scream. Maybe she should. Followed by a big girl fit right here in the middle of the corral. Perhaps such an extreme display would bring out some better advice from her father. She toyed with the idea childishly, sparing a heated glance at the porch.
Her six year old son had now joined her dad. The boy and his grandfather were lost in conversation, unaware of her. In an instant, her anger waned. She had to smile, her son was dressed too silly not to.
Gage, adorned in a colorful attire of red, white and green, looked ridiculous. The child wore an oversized red and white checkered shirt, and a pair of dark green jeans, at least an inch too short. On his feet shined the patent leather red and white cowboy boots belonging to his sister. All of which he retrieved from the bag she’d set aside to drop off at Goodwill.
His outfit was topped off by one of his grandfather’s worn out cowboy hats, adding its own flair to the ensemble and swallowing his entire head. The boy certainly had a style he could call his very own.
The boy also has a daddy.
The thought shot through her like a lightning bolt, making her heart skip a beat. Gage was the spitting image of Nate with his dark head of curls and intense blue eyes. Her son, however, was sweet and tolerant, blessed with an easygoing, enduring patience. He did have Nate’s love for animals, especially horses, and by inheriting his grandfather’s gentle nature, he’d been graced with a gift, calming the spirit of even the most uneasy animal.
On the other hand, his twin sister was the complete opposite. So much in fact, it was hard to believe they were related, much less twins. Jade, with her stubborn streak and independent attitude was a force to be reckoned with. Even from her first breath, the child had been a handful, demanding she be born two minutes before her brother.
Whereas Gage was a mirrored reflection of his father, Jade was a smaller, identical replica of Jessica with large green eyes and dimpled smile. Regardless of the fact she looked exactly like her, she had Nate’s headstrong, unyielding audacity accompanied by a need to prove something to the world.
An uproar of angry clucks and flapping wings escaped the chicken coop, continuing through the barn, and Jessie smirked. Jade was up to her usual antics. No doubt, the impetuous girl was attempting to surprise Rosita with dinner, a skill set she had accomplished by watching William with eagle eyes. Being raised on a farm, her children weren’t squeamish about the role farm animals played.
In total agreement, a hen released a very loud protest and Jessie giggled, unable to stop herself from laughing. She was impressed. This would make the second chicken Jade had caught this week.
As if on cue, her daughter came out of the barn, victoriously displaying a flustered bird. The child was persistent, another trait she’d inherited from her father.
The twins also shared something else with their father—neither knew about the other. And now he had stampeded back into her life, her children’s lives. It wasn’t fair.
He’d left her without as much as a glance behind him, without the decency to say goodbye. The old anger twisted her insides. She owed him nothing...zip, zero, nada, not even the time of day.
Jessie kicked at the fence post with the toe of her scuffed boot. He had already taken all he was ever going to get from her. She would be damned if he was going to come back into her life and break her or her children’s hearts. Besides, he would be gone before the week was over, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect his little visit had on her.
“Over my damned body,” she swore out loud.
“Over your damned body...mommy?”
Jessie glanced down to see her daughter, the proud hunter, smiling up at her. One hand planted on her hip, the other clinging tight to tonight’s dinner. The chicken, half the size of its triumphant captor, no longer struggled in her child’s relentless grip.
Jessie couldn’t help but smile. She studied her daughter’s face, reminding her every effort had not been in vain. Standing before her was living proof. Hard to believe seven years ago her life had been so different, so pale in comparison to now.
A life she refused to go back to.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” she said, touching her daughter’s cheek with a gentle stroke. “Over my damned body.”
Chapter 4
It was early, dawn’s light casting its first streak across the skyline, but Nate knew where Jessie would be. Seeing the dark shadow on her porch move proved him right. Even in the purple shades of twilight, he could make out her form, her silhouette curvaceous and welcoming.
Like coming home.
The insight hit him hard, stopping him in his tracks. Stunned by the sudden moment of clarity, he questioned his timing, savored this feeling. As soon as she realized he was here, she would be guarded again, her eyes shaded with hate and blame.
Lord knows what kind of crimes she would accuse him of this morning. Although, he knew her bark had always been much worse than her bite. Besides, he wasn’t about to run home with his tail between his legs.
“Your porch always did have the best views,” he drawled. The implication of his words hung in mid-air, unspoken, as he stepped onto the threshold of the porch.
Jessie spun toward the sound of his voice, a startled expression on her face. “What are you doing here?”
He chose to ignore her curt tone, focusing more on why she hadn’t heard his approach. She’d always been observant, aware of everything going on around her at all times, an attribute he’d often admired. There must have been quite a bit on her mind not to have heard his arrival, the crunch of boots against the gravel drive had seemed loud enough to wake the household.
“I’ve been to a lot of places...seen a lot of sunrises...sunsets,” he began with a lighthearted banter, hoping she would confide in him like she once had. A long shot, he knew. It’d take a miracle for him to gain her trust again. Yet, he had to try. “But this has always been my favorite view.” His gaze held hers, refusing to let go.
“I told you to stay away from me,” she snapped, turning her head away.
“C’mon, Jess. I know you better than that. If you really wanted me to stay away, you’d have that damn rifle of yours cocked and ready to fire,” he stated in earnest.
Unwilling to wait for an invitation, he crossed the porch to where she stood and positioned himself beside her, facing the view.
“Besides, I knew you’d be awake.” Warmth emanated off her body, both unnerving and exciting. He longed to pull her in his arms and kiss away whatever seemed to be troubling her, even if he were to blame.
“You never could sleep in,” he continued, baiting her. Neither of them needed much sleep. Another trait they shared.
“Me? At least I sleep. I see your pattern is still the same.” She attempted a half-hearted smile before feigning irritation and rolling her eyes, appearing as if she found his intrusion arrogant.
The unconscious action brought forth cherished memories, stoking his ardor. When they’d been younger, she often did the same after a big fight or disagreement. It meant forgiveness, hope. He had a shot.
He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “You never minded before.” His intention had been to keep the
conversation flirtatious and light, but it was a challenge not to touch her. A miracle, and he praised himself for the controlled effort it cost him not to pull her into his arms. “Hell, we never did get much sleep. Did we Jess?” He teased her with ease, implying they’d spent most of their youth occupying their time with anything but sleep.
Shifting his position, he placed a boot on the bottom rung of the porch railing. His hand settled on the top rail less than an inch away from hers. It would have been so natural to reach for her, remembering the way her fingers fit in his. Her gentle touch had always seemed to keep the world at bay. Instead, he fought against the strong urge, which took every ounce of his will.
“No, I guess we didn’t get much sleep, in fact I...” Her words faltered, and she didn’t finish her confession.
He shot a warranted glance in her direction, guessing she had also been branded by the memories they shared long ago, wincing at the regret written on her face.
“I didn’t hear you approach. I thought I was alone,” she stated, retreating to a safer subject.
“You were alone.” Smiling, he filled in the gap between them. He tugged on one of her braids to lighten the mood again, savoring the way the chestnut strand slipped through his fingers like silk. Wearing her hair in this style had always undone him, captivated him with the simplistic innocence.
“I knew you’d be here...watching the sunrise. Just like we used to do every morning, remember? I used to rush over as early as I could so I didn’t miss it.” He shifted his weight, stepping to the right and maintaining a little distance. It was pure torture to be this close and not be able to touch her.
Nature’s display caught his attention, as the reddish orange devoured the last of the twilight. The sunrise hadn’t been what he hurried for. It was Jessie. It had always been her.
Several minutes passed before he spoke again, turning his head in time to catch her staring.
She glanced away, her focus returning to the sky.
“Remember those days, Jess? When we were kids?” He brought her back to him, turning to her and guiding her chin so she couldn’t look away.
