by Saylor Bliss
I picked up my lemonade and sipped. “Maybe it’s time he lets someone take care of him back.”
Justin nodded his approval. “He did that today, you know. Letting you fix him up. Was a time he would’ve run off and licked his own damn wounds.”
I looked into my glass, swirling the liquid around. “Sometimes it feels like I’m his second choice.” Heat slid into my face when I looked up to see Justin watching me. “I don’t know why I told you that. He says I’m not, and I want to believe him.”
“Something stopping you?”
“I know next to nothing about him. He doesn’t share much.” I laughed. “I got mad at him because he ran to my rescue this morning. But I know he did that because he —cares about me.”
“That’s the way he’s built —he’s got a chivalrous streak as wide as this state.”
I studied Travis’s father, noting the physical similarities to the man I loved. “I know exactly who he gets that from.”
Justin’s color heightened slightly. He pulled out one of his cigars. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not.”
He took his time trimming the end, lighting the cigar, enjoying his first few puffs. Wisps of white smoke sweetened the leftover smell of grass fire.
In a gravelly, emotion-filled voice, he spoke, so quietly I had to lean forward to hear. “Leaving here when he was a boy cost him more than he’ll admit. He thinks no one knows how much he still hurts over that. When my son loves someone, it’s a hundred percent. He’ll give up anything for the folks he loves, even his life if it’s needed.”
I drew in a tremulous breath as I absorbed the meaning of his words. Travis held nothing back when he loved someone. I knew that already; it was one of the things I loved the most —and the one I found most frightening. “He could have died today. When he saved me.”
“We lost his mother when he was twelve.” The end of the cigar glowed orange and a translucent cloud surrounded Justin’s face for a few seconds before billowing away. “The boy was always mature, always the big brother looking out for Grant. But losing his mother, the way he did, made those instincts stronger.”
“What happened?”
“It was branding season.” Deep sadness colored his voice. “The whole outfit was up in the open range. Back then, three ranches around here were all working together in a co-op. It was the only way the smaller ranches could compete with the big-time operations.”
Justin sipped his lemonade. Absently he rubbed a hand across his chest, as though soothing an aching heart.
“My Bethany wasn’t born to ranching, but she took to it. She could ride, pull a calf when its ma couldn’t get the job done, round up the bulls, even rope calves with the best cowpokes. She hated branding, called it cruel. But she understood the need. I met her when she was up visiting her half sister, Phyllis. We got married a month later.”
I blinked. “Phyllis MacKay?”
Justin nodded, took another puff. “The same. Back then, Robert MacKay and I were part of the co-op, along with Maxon Freeman, Senior. Beth and Freeman went off after some cows in the woods. When Beth’s horse showed up and she wasn’t on him, I sent Travis to look for them.”
Justin stopped talking. He looked out at the ruined field but it didn’t take much effort to realize he saw something entirely different. His deep sigh was one of the loneliest sounds I’d ever heard.
“Lot of spring rain and flash floods up there.” His voice took on a distant quality, as if his memory of that time hadn’t faded at all. “The creek was running real high. Beth must have fallen or gotten off her horse. She ended up holding onto a dead tree branch to keep from getting washed into the creek. Freeman was working at getting her out. Trav came on them both in time to see Freeman slip. They were both holding on but the branch was breaking.” Justin shook his head. “He was only twelve. I should have gone, not him.”
“He tried to save them…” I guessed. Justin nodded.
“According to Trav, Beth knew she wasn’t going to get out of there. She told him she loved him. She told him to tell Grant she loved him and to be good, and she told him—” Justin’s voice cracked and he drew a heavy breath. “She told him to tell me I was the only man she’d ever loved. She held on long as she could but the end of the branch snapped off and she just washed away.”
“Oh, Travis,” I whispered, thinking of the little boy. “What happened to Mr. Freeman?”
“Freeman knew Travis couldn’t save him so he chose to save my boy —told him to get back off the muddy riverbank and when Travis did, Freeman just let go. Took us four days to find their bodies. They washed up some miles downstream.”
Sorrow branded itself on my heart in a flash of white-hot pain.
“Phyllis blamed us all for her sister’s death. Robert seemed to feel the same. Truth is, I always felt a little like Robert wished he’d met Beth first, so maybe he felt her loss a bit harder. And Bull, well, he never needed a reason to hate Travis. He just did from the day Travis was born. But MacKays have full-on hated McGees ever since that day we lost my Beth. All except the younger MacKay boy, Mac. He looked up to Travis. My son was always kind to him, patient with his tendency to stutter. So Mac —he refused to hate anyone. Was always sneaking over here to see Travis, even though he was a couple years younger.”
“What about the Freemans?”
“Freeman’s wife, Kendra, just stepped up and took over running the ranch with her children, Max Junior and his little sister, Livvy.”
“So they didn’t —blame Travis for Mr. Freeman’s…”
“Nah. Nothing to blame him for and they knew it.” Justin stared at his cigar for a beat then looked up with a sad smile. “There’s more to the story about the sorrow between Trav and the MacKays, but that’s for him to tell. The thing is, if you’re with him, you’re taking on a huge grudge. And it runs deep.”
“I love him.” And that was getting easier to say.
“I can see that runs deep, too,” said Justin, widening his smile. “On both sides.”
“Your boys are Phyllis’s nephews,” I whispered. “They’re Bull’s cousins.”
Justin nodded. “Hard to figure, isn’t it?”
It was time to get out of there. How had I not picked up on the relationship? Why had Sissy kept it from me? I pushed to my feet. “Thank you for telling me. I wish I could stay but I have to get to work. Travis’s, um, well, he’s likely to be mad because I left him sleeping.”
Justin’s eyes twinkled. “Without a doubt.” He reached for a box sitting next to his chair. “This here’s a two-way radio. We use them a lot now. All the ranches out here. This is set to Hawk MC frequency.” He changed the setting. “This here’s the direct line to the sheriff’s base.”
Justin touched me on the arm. “My boy had some bad moments today. We all saw it. He’s not right unless he knows you’re safe. I’m thinking you can carry this when you’re out riding, and even keep it in the truck. There’s a dock for it above the windshield between the visors. Those cell phones don’t get a lot of service out here.”
I accepted the radio with hands that weren’t quite steady. “Thank you.”
Justin tossed me the keys to his truck. “Tell my son to bring you to dinner this Sunday. We’ll barbecue.”
The sleek red pickup was a dream to drive. I almost wished mine would be held up for a long while with the state police. As I pulled into the bar’s parking lot, glare from the dying sun reflected off a cluster of five cars parked near the front entrance. So many cars on a Tuesday?
Sissy popped her head out the back door of the bar just as I hopped to the ground. “The whole town knows about the fire.”
Well, that likely explained the extra customers. Too bad it wasn’t the new and improved menu bringing them in. Probably wasn’t a great business tactic to get involved in small-town uproars to capture a little attention. I offered a shrug.
“Don’t even think about pulling a disappearing act until you tell me about it,” warne
d Sissy. Then her eyes widened. “Are you driving Justin McGee’s truck? He must really like you!” The sound of something striking the ground drew my attention and I stooped to retrieve a long-handled screwdriver. Picking it up, I tucked it into the toolbelt slung on the hook just behind the seat, then closed the cab door with a thunk.
“He’s letting me use it until mine comes back from impound. I’m just going to run upstairs and put on my own clothes. I promise I’ll be right back.”
Sissy wagged a finger. “Okay, obviously you are ignorant of the rules. You can’t use words like impound and own clothes, and think you’re going to just walk away from the conversation.”
I sighed. “Sissy, the last thing I would dream of doing is walking away from filling you in on all the gossip of the past…” I checked my wristwatch. “… eight and a half hours. Just let me put on something I can work in. Something not screaming look at me, I just had my clothes ripped off during wild animal sex and had to wear my boyfriend’s clothes home, okay?”
Sissy’s mouth formed an O.
Direct hit!
Grinning, I galloped up the rest of the steps.
I quickly changed into a loose-fitting filmy dress with a random pattern of black and tan swirls. I took extra care with my makeup and for the first time in my life, double-checked it in the mirror. Then I tore down the outside steps and into the kitchen.
“Hi, Charlotte,” I called out, angling for the bar.
The cook lifted one hand without glancing up from brushing barbecue sauce on a rack of ribs.
One more pause at the swinging doors to catch my breath and shake my arms; I willed my muscles to loosen up. Keeping up straight. Squaring my shoulders, I schooled my expression.
The stainless steel chilled my palm as I pushed through. Hopefully my nerves weren’t showing. Tonight I could show no weakness. Tonight I had to wow the world. One person at a time.
With a stack of menus strewn before her, Sissy looked up as I stepped through the doors, an expression of abject boredom on her face. It didn’t last. Her jaw slackened and her eyes popped as she performed a double take worthy of a Saturday morning cartoon.
First objective met.
A glance over the floor revealed a half-full house —though oddly no one lounged at the bar. How many people had arrived while I’d been upstairs primping?
And how many had recognized Justin McGee’s bright red pickup parked outside my door?
Fighting nerves all the way, I sauntered to my normal place behind the bar, conscious of sidelong glances and hushed whispers.
“I’m going to want overtime if I have to work through another of your shifts so you can have a hot date,” Sissy murmured, sliding the menus into their holder.
I sighed and affected a pout. “No hot date tonight. He probably won’t wake up for another few hours.”
Sissy raised an eyebrow and spread her hands in an expectant gesture. “Don’t you have some details you’d like to share?”
“You sound like you already know.” I picked up the bar rag and began wiping the spotless bar down, just to keep my hands occupied.
“Only as told to me by Erin Brinks, whose son Cole is with the VFD. But I also heard bits and pieces from Nessie Young, who got the stories from Stella Jinks and Allan Cross. I’m sure there are details you can fill in.”
I shook my head. Gotta love small town grapevines. “Okay, in a sec. Any of these tables need seeing to?”
“Not a one.” A smile bloomed on Sissy’s face as she checked her watch. “At least not for another five or so minutes, when I’ll make the rounds again and see to their refills. Now spill.”
To her credit, Sissy leaned against the bar, showing absolutely no reaction while I recounted the events of my very busy day. Professional poker players could take lessons from the woman.
“So, since my truck is considered evidence, Mr. McGee is letting me borrow his for a while.” I gave a little shrug for effect.
“Wow,” Sissy whispered.
“I know.” I suppressed the urge to giggle as I wiped my hands on the rag before tossing it back under the bar. “It does seem like a lot happened in the past couple of days, doesn’t it?”
Shaking her head, Sissy heaved an exaggerated sigh and began a slow clap. “I was just thinking most teenagers would envy your storytelling skills. You got through the whole thing without one mention of the hot sex I know you’ve been having with Trav McGee.”
“Oh, that.”
“Oh, that?” mocked Sissy. “What’s the matter, does he come up a little… um, short in that department?”
I cringed at the pun as the heat in my face kicked up a notch. “As far as I know, he’s not short in any area.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Travis
An insistent chime drilled its way deep into my brain. I couldn’t reach the cell phone to turn it off, but covering my head with the pillow only muffled it and had the added disadvantage of suffocating me. As I tossed the pillow aside in irritation, waves of searing agony danced along every nerve in my left arm up to my neck and down to my fingers.
I flopped back onto the bed, my plans of smashing the phone abandoned. By remaining perfectly still, I was able to get my ragged breathing under control. The pain lessened some; at least I wasn’t still seeing red and purple flashes in my peripheral vision.
Definitely not the best way to awaken from a deep slumber after the most pleasurable massage I had experienced in my life. Christine’s soft hands had been pure magic as she’d worked at the knots of tension in my shoulders and back. I would have gladly given the same treatment back, eased some of the stress I knew she felt. But when she’d finished, she’d simply lain at my back and held me to her, cocooning me with her warmth and humming softly. Falling asleep in her arms had seemed like a requirement, and I’d allowed myself to drift with thoughts of forever on my mind.
But the other half of the incredible experience seemed to have disappeared. At least she was no longer in my bed. A folded sheet of paper about the size of a small photo provided the answer.
Sleeping Beauty–
Much as I’d love to stay until you wake up, it’s my night to close the bar. Stay home and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Christine
So I should rest, huh? Not damn likely with Bull loose and on a vengeful rampage. What did she plan to do if the asshole came to her door again? Invite him in for coffee? She should never have left the safety of the ranch. She needed to stay where I could watch out for her.
Muttering a string of curses under my breath, I grabbed the first pair of jeans I laid my hands on, hopping around my bedroom as I struggled to get into them one-handed. The fire in my arm had my stomach jumping. If I’d eaten dinner, I’d be puking already. I had to do something to control that pain. I managed to fasten the jeans as I stomped into the bathroom. I pulled open the door to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of painkillers. Swallowing the whole thing probably wouldn’t help, but hopefully the two I took would take the edge off the molten agony currently reminding me of the danger we were all in. The danger Christine was in.
Tossing the rest of the water into the sink, I set the plastic cup to the side and returned the bottle to the cabinet. When I swung the door shut, hard green eyes stared at me from the mirror. If anything happened to Christine, I’d kill Bull, slowly and painfully.
Donning a shirt sucked and was managed only with beads of sweat forming on my forehead and dripping into my eyes. Too bad I had no time to just hit the bed to recover. Setting my jaw, I slid my watch onto my left wrist, grabbed my wallet and car keys off the dresser, and, as an afterthought, opened my cell phone to see whose call had awakened me. I frowned at the L.A. area code. Dan —again.
“Sorry, Dan.” Why should I give a flying hoot about a woman who had disappeared and obviously had no desire to be found? The phone went into my pocket, the call unreturned.
The pungent scent of cigar smoke hit my nose about the same time I hit the door
to the porch.
Shit. I was going to start parking out the back and using Grant’s teenaged escape route down the tree outside my window.
“Evening,” dad greeted easily.
“You let Christine leave.” I tossed the words at my father without stopping.
“Was I supposed to stop her?” He calmly surveyed me.
I paused my forward momentum and glared. “Yes. She’s safe here.”
A pained expression crossed dads face and he slapped at a mosquito on my neck. “She’s got a business, boy. She has to tend to it or she won’t have it long.”
“She needs to be safe —I need her to stay safe.” I moved toward my car.
My father’s quiet voice stopped me “Travis, I haven’t been in a position to give you advice in a lot of years, so maybe you’ll think it’s late for me to be starting now.”
With an inward groan, I met my dad’s eyes. Now or later, one way or the other, I was going to have to suffer through some kind of lecture. Might as well get it over with. I jangled my keys against my thigh, impatient.
Dad pulled out a cigar, studied it, then sighed and slid it back into his pocket. “Maybe if I’d spoken up more when you were younger, things would be different. But I can’t change the past. I can see you love this gal.”
“Yes, I do.” And trust you to notice.
“Son, you came home missing something. Or maybe missing someone. Did you go looking for what you’re missing —maybe hoping to find it in Miss Christine?”
The car keys fell to the porch with a clink. Frowning, I bent and scooped them up. Only the fear that echoed my father’s question kept my anger at the invasion of privacy in check. Still, I couldn’t keep the chill out of my voice. “She say something to you?”
Dad chuckled. “Nothing I didn’t already see.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t deserve to be your second choice, son. And as long as you keep yourself walled off, separating the pieces of your life you don’t want to talk about, you aren’t making her your first.”
“What the hell does that—?” I huffed out a breath. Trust Justin McGee to pick up on that, too. “It’s not like that. We haven’t had time—”
