by Reece Butler
“I liked fixing things. Guys with degrees become officers, and have to take responsibility. I joined the army to avoid such things.”
“Must be nice.”
“You fed up with it as well?”
She closed her book with a loud, put-upon sigh. She stretched out her arm and slammed it down on the side table, making the action an insult. She wore long sleeves in the heat, and when she stretched he saw scars across the underside of her wrist. He’d done some volunteer work in San Antonio, talking to teens about suicide. He’d seen those scars before. She saw his glance.
“What have they told you about me?” she demanded.
He settled back in the chair with a handful of cookies. He’d missed the snack earlier as he and Jet were getting the horses ready.
“You want to be an engineer. You got a bunch of younger sisters and brothers, and lazy parents. That means too much study time doing what the adults should be doing. You don’t think you can afford college without a scholarship, which is impossible thanks to the amount of work you’re doing for the little ones.” He gestured at her wrists. “They didn’t say you were a cutter. I figured that out for myself.”
“Yeah? So what?”
He stuck out his long legs and crossed his ankles. He stared at her while he chomped another cookie down.
“So, I know about a program that will cover the costs for you to go to college.”
“Will it pay for a housekeeper so my brothers and sisters will have food on the table, water for baths, and electricity?”
She said it bitterly, and he didn’t blame her in the slightest.
“It might.”
“What do you care? You’re just some guy hired on for a month.”
He waited, making sure she was listening before he spoke.
“I’m also a guy whose little sister killed herself when she was seventeen because she couldn’t take it any longer. And I’m a guy who knows about an education program for kids at risk.”
She rolled her eyes. She might be a genius, but she was still fourteen.
“Excuse me for not being ecstatic, but I bet there’s a huge long list of people wanting in, and not enough money going out.”
He scratched his cheek, then remembered he wasn’t supposed to. He grimaced and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. When he gave everything away he’d kept a near-useless piece of dry land which was now in the center of one of the biggest oil booms in American history.
“You heard of Eagle Ford Shale, down in Texas?”
“Of course,” she replied, as if he everyone should know. “I’m going to be a petroleum engineer and work there.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “Most of the colleges with those programs are in Canada or Texas, though. A long way from Montana.”
“It’s a specialized field, one that pays very well.”
She shot him a glance which was the equivalent of “duh!”
“My sisters and brothers are smart, like me, but there’s no money. So I need a good job to pay for their education.”
She rubbed the scars on her wrist, back and forth, as if they still itched. He’d get her some of Lance’s cream. The scars were old, but who knew what the goop could do for her. He did know what he could do for her, now. He had forgotten about that chunk of land. He’d been surfing the Internet and it seemed circumstances had changed. An e-mail from an oil company, sent before he was injured, had brought him up to speed.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m also the guy who has mineral rights on ranch land between Gonzales and Westhoff.”
She gasped, eyes wide.
“You got it,” he continued. “They’re putting thirty-six oil wells on the property, to start. I’m going to feed the profits into that education program.” He winked. “I think we can find enough bucks to send you to college, and make sure your siblings are cared for until they’re ready to go as well.”
She pushed her lower lip over her top, chin quivering. Her eyes got all shiny.
“Don’t you dare get my hopes up,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Not unless you’re telling the truth.”
She must’ve got hot, since she pushed back both sleeves. There were more scars than he’d thought. She’d been serious when she’d cried for help. But then, this kid was scary-serious. She deserved a future, but first she needed a damn good now. She was wasting her childhood taking care of a house, and kids. She, no they, all needed a break.
“What are you doing this summer?” he asked.
“Caring for the four sweetest kids in the world.” She smiled.
“How old’s the youngest?”
“Mary’s eight. Why?”
“Would y’all like to go to camp?”
“Camp?” Her face lit up. “You mean like swimming and roasting marshmallows over campfires? And crafts? Mary loves working with her hands. She’s already a good artist.”
“Guess they have that stuff, too. I was thinking there’s all these science and technology and engineering camps. I figure you wouldn’t want to leave the little ones behind, so what if all five of you go, together?”
Her low eyebrows made her look like a Neanderthal.
“You mean, go away, for one week?”
He shrugged. “Some of the camps might be for one week, others might be for two weeks or for whatever. Hell, I don’t know. I figured we could find enough to keep you busy for the whole summer.”
Her wide eyes began to glisten. She swallowed hard.
“Mister, if you’re telling me this for nothing…” She looked up to the right, obviously fighting tears.
“Savanna,” he said seriously. “Not even my best buddy knows about those oil wells. If you want to go to camp this summer, away from everything at home, I’ll talk to your counselor. And I’ll make sure your parents go along with it.”
She slumped, tears overflowing. “Who’ll make sure there’s food and stuff for mom and dad?”
“I’ll take care of that, as well. This summer, it won’t be you worrying. Okay?”
He wanted to take care of her parents in a whole ’nother way but the kid, and her little ones, had to go home again. Unless they all went to boarding school. Some place for gifted kids…
She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. He’d have to check a bunch of stuff out before mentioning that. They’d have to all be tested, and more. For now, he’d do what he could.
“Can you understand that book?” He pointed at the thick textbook.
“I understand the individual words, but the concepts are confusing.”
“How about we go through it together?”
She nodded. He put his hand out. She placed the book in it.
“Dang, I was hoping for more cookies!” he joked.
She laughed, transforming her face. He couldn’t help Sonia, but he would help Savanna. And her brothers and sisters.
Chapter Thirty
Jet relaxed on the park bench across from the Roadhouse, enjoying the sun. They’d put in a lot of long hours for almost two weeks. This was his first chance to just sit and think. What filled his mind was one very complicated woman. Lila Frost.
He’d never met a female like her. Not that he had much experience. Nice girls wouldn’t have anything to do with a guy like him. And the ones that weren’t nice, well, he only wanted one thing from them. He hadn’t even wanted that for years, preferring quality.
Lila acted tough but was, in many ways, sweetly innocent. At first he thought she was a spoiled brat, until he realized it was a mask. She genuinely cared about those kids she helped. Houston had come clean about the oil wells feeding into the charity he’d be setting up. The three of them had talked to Lance about both teenagers. He’d brought in Simon and Marci.
Simon, being a history buff, was all for supporting Madison to become a history teacher. Jet’s implied warning, and Madison’s admission of physical abuse, had made her parents back off a fair bit, but they still wanted her to keep her baby. Marci had invited her, through Tatiana, to visit the ranch the las
t month before her baby was due. That would give her a chance to relax, since she wouldn’t have her parents harping on her to do all their housework. By then Nikki would be back, so there’d be a doctor nearby. Madison would stay for the whole summer, recovering from having, and giving up, her baby. She’d be surrounded by lots of love and companionship, and would be able to raid Simon’s library.
Savannah and her siblings were busy choosing which camps to attend. Tatiana had arranged for them all to be tested, supposedly for the camps. Turns out all the kids were brainiacs, and would do well surrounded by the same type of people. Houston had talked to some private schools in Texas, ones he knew were more for learning than getting the right social contacts.
Whatever money Houston had given away at twenty-five, he’d more than made up with the Eagle Ford Shale property. All those zeros had Jet shaking his head. It was just numbers to him, numbers that would help a lot of kids pull themselves up from the lives that had been shoved onto them by circumstances of birth. It would not be a handout, as they’d be expected to mentor others in the future.
The younger four girls had not been forgotten about. They’d be coming for regular girl-time weekends, with horseback riding, baking, and things Jet had no idea about but made them squeal.
Yeah, Lila had a soft heart under that defensive shell. Her fathers had protected her, with the best of intentions. She had a wonderful smile and an open heart. With her parents away, she stopped by the senior’s home every other day. She visited her elderly relatives while Houston had physio. She was fierce with Houston, insisting he do his exercises. She rubbed that cream of Lance’s into his scars, kissing him as she did it. Already there was a massive difference in him. It wasn’t just his skin and muscles that had improved. A lot of the distant look in his eyes had faded.
Jet liked it here. He especially liked Lila. Her family was starting to grow on him. Her Uncle Simon dropped by one day and, finding Lila was out with Houston, read to him from some antique journals while he chopped wood. He explained how Lila’s ancestor, Sarah, had been sold by her fiancé into a brothel, and then rescued. Sarah became a businesswoman, owning her own bakery at a time when women couldn’t sign legal contracts. Simon had emphasized how Sarah had not given up her business just because she married Luke Frost. Jet took it to mean that Lila was another in a long line of very strong women. He agreed.
He dropped his head back and forked his fingers through his hair. He’d even let Lila trim it one night. Who’d have ever thought he’d get so turned on by having a haircut? She’d worn nothing but a dress and boots. She’d run her fingers though his hair, then tilted his head back so it lay pillowed on her breasts and massaged his temples.
She’d barely pulled the sheet off him when he had her flat on the kitchen table, skirt around her waist. As soon as his tongue touched her soaking pussy he realized she’d been just as turned on. She’d wrapped those legs around him and locked her ankles behind his ass. He and Houston spent the next hour keeping her on the edge of an orgasm. They had to help her walk to the bed afterwards because her legs wouldn’t support her.
Oh, man, he was so stuck on her. If he was the type to love, she’d be the one. But he’d be gone soon, unless she was pregnant. The thought of her belly rounding with a baby was both wonderful and terrifying. He craved the thought of having a child trust him to be there. A child who could laugh as he leaped off the porch into his father’s arms, knowing he would be caught. Knowing he would be safe.
It was a huge responsibility, being a father. Terrifying and wonderful, all at once. He didn’t know if he wanted Lila to be pregnant or not. They should know the answer in a couple weeks.
Lila had been jumpy the last few days. She yawned a lot in the afternoons. He figured they’d kept her up too many nights. She was really cranky that morning, so they were happy to drop her off for a visit with her Aunt Marci. Since Lila was contained and safe, they’d come to town for the first time since being detained. They’d headed to the diner, where Tom warned them Tank was in town and it was time to make themselves visible. Perfect timing.
After coffee and pie, they’d headed to the park across the street. An older woman had arrived with a little boy. He remembered Stella Elliott from the MacDougal party. The boy, who Mrs. Elliott called James, looked about five. She’d brought a tractor and bulldozer for him to play with. He’d lifted his hat and nodded at the grandma. She’d returned the look, not quite friendly. He was used to that. Houston was the handsome one who always smiled, and got away with so many things because of it. In the city, the mess of scars on Houston’s face would’ve made kids and grannies run. Here, it was just part of life.
Houston had gone up to James, hunkered down, and asked about his toys. Seems the two had talked machines at the MacDougal party. The boy had handed over the bulldozer and towed Houston toward the sandbox, chattering about making roads. Houston had grinned and climbed in. James had the tractor while Houston plowed sand roads, both of them making engine noises. Jet would have liked to join them, but there wasn’t room for two men their size, the toys, and the boy. Though, maybe if James had a dump truck as well…
The middle of Jet’s back suddenly itched. That only happened when someone stared at him. He stood up, stretching to hide his quick recon. A tall, muscular man approached. Jet turned away, thinking he might be the boy’s father.
“James, time to go.” The older woman abruptly stood.
“Aw, Gram, do I hafta?” complained James.
“I bet your grandma bakes cookies and things for you,” said Houston, all serious. The boy nodded. “If I was you, and wanted some of those cookies, I’d listen to my grandma when she tells me something.”
James frowned, then looked at his grandmother. She was obviously hiding a smile. He helped Houston shake the sand out of his toys.
“Will you play with me again, mister? I only have a sister, and Emily likes to play with dolls.”
He said it was such disgust Jet had to look away to hide a smile.
“Any time I’m here, I’ll play with you,” replied Houston, totally serious. “If you bring a truck, my buddy over there will play, too. We’ll ask your granny first, of course,” he added.
“You didn’t this time,” she said wryly. “I’m Stella Elliott. I recognized you, but we haven’t been introduced.” She held out her hand as she approached her grandson. Houston flapped his hand over his pants to clean the sand off first.
“Houston, ma’am, and that’s Jet Quartermain,” he said.
Jet stood and took his hat off. “Ma’am.”
“Only one name?” she asked Houston. “Are you famous, like Madonna, or Elvis?”
Mrs. Elliott said it with a mixture of sarcasm and humor. Jet had not seen Houston blush before. Because of the scars, only parts of his face turned pink.
“No ma’am, I just prefer using a nickname.”
“That’s because he’s a criminal,” snarled a new voice. “I bet he’s got a record a mile long. You the one beat somebody up, or are you the thief?”
The man touched one finger to his hat toward Mrs. Elliott. With lips pressed together she put James’s toys in her bag and took his hand.
“Stay away from my grandson,” she said, glaring up at the much bigger man.
“Why? You think I’m going to steal his toys?” He sneered. “I’m not the one who stole his mama’s car.”
“No, Stanley Jefferson, you’re the coward who beat his mother and sister. You should be locked up and the key thrown away!”
“What, the…!” Tank snarled and puffed up. “Did Ma tell you that?”
He took a menacing step forward. Mrs. Elliott glared and held her ground. James, wide-eyed in fear, moved in front of her. Jet was impressed with the boy’s automatic reaction. They raised kids right in this place. Houston moved to stand beside James, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder in support.
“He’s being mean to Granny!” whispered James hoarsely.
“Not anymore,” said
Houston.
Jet grabbed Tank’s shoulder and spun him around. “Back. Off.” He had about six inches on him, but Tank had more bulk.
“What’s your problem?” Tank demanded. He pulled his lips down in an ugly scowl.
“I don’t like bullies,” said Jet, each word distinct.
“I’m just talking to the old lady. And it’s none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business.” Taking a risk at Tank attacking, Jet turned his back and hunkered down in front of James so they were eye to eye. “Houston and me, we work for Lila Frost. You know her?” The boy slowly nodded, his eyes flicking to Tank and back. “I bet you’re one of Lila’s cousins, which means we’re almost family. And that means I’m not going to let this mean bully do anything to you or your granny, and neither is my friend.” He held up his hand. “High five, buddy?”
James grinned and slammed his little hand against Jet’s. His grandmother tugged him away, heading across the park. She walked so quickly the boy had to trot beside her. Jet turned his attention back to Tank. They had to provoke him. It wouldn’t be hard.
“Got her preggers yet?” demanded Tank.
The words stabbed Jet’s back like a dagger. He’d been disgusted when Josh Gibson told them Tank’s plan. Now, with the possibility of Lila being pregnant, it sounded even sicker. He stood, slowly uncurling.
Tank might have more bulk, and he might have worked to get muscles in the first place, but there was a good chance he’d kept his shape by taking drugs. That could well affect his temper, making his fuse shorter than usual. Jet would use every weapon at his disposal.
“I suggest you stop flapping your mouth before I close it with my fist,” he said quietly. “Stay away from that boy, his sister, and their grandmother.”
“What did he say, Tank?”
Three hangers-on had appeared without Jet noticing. That never happened. He was losing his edge from too much good food, sleep, and great sex. Either that, or his focus was off because he cared about Lila too much.
“He said he’d punch me,” said Tank, sneering.
