The kids around her were laughing as he came to the rescue. “That’s perfect.” He blew the fire out. “Get your crackers and chocolate ready. Now...” He laid the marshmallow down on the chocolate bar. “Squeeze them together. That’s right.” The skewer slid out from the chocolate-marshmallow goo. “You’re good to go.”
Jess tried a bite, ending up with chocolate dripping down her chin. “That is...oh, gosh...amazing. So delicious.” She finished the whole sandwich and licked her fingers. “You people sure know how to eat.”
“Yes, we do.” All the kids went back for a second treat but Jess shook her head when Dylan offered the ingredients. “My clothes aren’t going to fit me to wear them home,” she protested. “At this rate, I’ll have to borrow a trash bag.”
She saw his smile dim at the words and realized she’d hurt him. But he would be better off remembering that she wouldn’t be here for long, that their time together was temporary. Surely that would be best for both of them.
Susannah brought out coffee for the adults and hot chocolate for the kids, and then Ford took a guitar out of its case and began to strum.
She’d had no idea the Marshalls boasted musical talent, too. But throughout the evening, she heard Ford play all types of tunes—rock, folk, country and even rap. Dylan and Caroline both had good voices, and they harmonized on many of the songs Ford played.
The kids had their own favorites, from silly camp songs such as “On Top of Spaghetti” and “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”—that one, at least, Jess had heard of—to more popular songs from the pop and rap styles. Becky and Lizzie sang a song together, and Thomas and Marcos mugged their way through several more. Nate sat in the corner with Amber, who soon fell asleep in his lap in the dark. Justino and Lena, of course, were glued side by side with their phones in their hands. But even they swayed to the beat and sang a chorus or two.
For the most part Jess watched, and marveled at the circumstances that had brought all these different souls together. Caroline and Garrett had made the plan, but it would never have become a reality without Wyatt’s strong determination to be a force for good in his community. Ford and Dylan might have opposed the idea to begin with, but no one could deny their contributions to the welfare of these kids.
And the kids themselves deserved credit for taking the risk to be here in the first place. Jess wasn’t sure she would have accepted such an opportunity—the chances of looking bad in front of her peers would have been far too high. Especially at their age.
But then, she’d never opened herself up to a challenging relationship. Not after Trini. And not after her parents, those never-to-be-depended-upon adults in her life. Jess could recognize that she’d deliberately cut herself off from people who might get too close, ask too much of her without giving anything in return.
So how could she ever expect to fit in here? Caroline was obviously a woman for whom giving came naturally. Susannah, too—her care of her children demonstrated her emotional involvement. Garrett, as a minister, had made giving and caring his life’s work. Wyatt had kept his family together and raised three younger brothers on his own. That level of self-sacrifice was beyond anything Jess had experienced.
And Dylan...well, Dylan never seemed to think of himself first, but was always trying to meet the needs and expectations of someone else. He had said to her that he would give up his art career before he would give up his family. That was why he squeezed his sculpture into the time left over at the end of the day, rather than making a perfectly reasonable demand that he be allowed to pursue the career he loved for part of the normal schedule. He ran himself ragged rather than impose his artistic drive on his brothers.
What made his efforts possible were his innate easy-going nature and the abiding love he offered to his family...that he’d offered to her. She’d never met a man so open, so willing to please. None of his brothers could match Dylan for unselfishness—each of them had managed to pursue his own agenda, often at Dylan’s expense.
But Jess would admit she was biased. She wanted Dylan to have whatever made him happy. Whatever brought him pleasure, joy, contentment, satisfaction—all the blessings in life—she wanted for Dylan Marshall.
Which was why she had to go. As the kids sang songs around her and the adults smiled at each other and at her, Jess knew she needed to leave the Circle M Ranch as soon as she could. The longer she stayed, the more difficult she would find it to do the right thing.
And doing the right thing was the only way she could help Dylan now.
By the time Ford’s voice had gotten hoarse and the kids had eaten all the s’mores they could hold, Jess had gathered her resolve and planned her getaway. She’d even slipped out of the room for a few minutes and made a plane reservation on the computer. Wednesday, she would fly back to New York with a heart full of regrets. But at least spoiling Dylan’s life wouldn’t be one of them.
Walking to the studio after the kids had gone to bed, she recounted Thomas’s comment about white men and red men to Dylan, who laughed loud and long. “A smart kid. He should become a politician—he’s already got the sound-bite technique mastered.”
“If he straightens out his life,” Jess said. “He’s got quite a temper—one look from Marcos can set him off like a match to dynamite.”
“They’re friends one minute, enemies the next. We could probably use a counselor out here to work with them. Caroline’s trained in direct casework and sociology, not clinical treatment.”
“With all the positive intentions you and your brothers have demonstrated, surely these kids have gained a sense that the world can be a better place. I can’t help but believe I could have had a much easier adolescence with such decent people on my side.”
He took her hand. “You succeeded on your own. That’s something to be proud of.”
“But—” She wasn’t quite sure how to say what she wanted to him to know. “I would be different, I think.”
“I don’t know of anyone who would want you to be different. Certainly not me.” He raised the hand he was holding to kiss the backs of her fingers.
“Oh, no? Wouldn’t you want me to be more open, more approachable? Someone friendly and sociable, not wary and reserved?”
He shook his head. “You’re not being fair to yourself.”
“Someone who likes big parties and big families, who’s comfortable in a crowd with lots of kids running around?”
“Jess.” He gave her hand a shake. “I love what you are. That’s all.”
She blinked to clear the tears from her eyes. “You want a family, Dylan. Children love you and you love them in return. You complain about the teenagers, but then you take time to help them with their problems, their fears and concerns. You need a family of your own to care for. And I...I couldn’t give you that.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was twenty-five, I had to undergo a hysterectomy because of fibroid tumors. They were benign. But...I can’t have children.”
His face lost its color. “God, Jess. I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t expect to have kids. I don’t know anything about them, or how to be a parent. I wouldn’t let my foster parents close enough. Anyway...” She turned away and stood up out of her chair. “More of me blurting out my history. Sorry about that. I’m going to go up to the house, leave you to get some work done.”
Dylan caught her hand again. “Don’t go.” The tone in his voice conveyed his intentions more clearly than words.
Jess looked back at him. “There’s no future for us, Dylan. No sense in getting more involved.”
He got to his feet. “I love you. I want as much of your time as I can have, for as long as it lasts.”
“You deserve so much more.”
Then he kissed her, and put his arms around her. She couldn’t think of what was wise or smart or good. Only that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. That she loved him, too, as much and as deeply as she understood the meaning of the word.
But at least she hadn’t told him so.
Chapter Ten
Dylan awoke on Monday morning to the sound of rain on the tin roof of the studio and a view of dripping eaves through the window. He was sorely tempted to burrow under the covers with Jess and sleep for another couple of hours, wake her up with some slow, easy loving, and then amble over to the house, with his arm around her shoulders, for one of Susannah’s gigantic breakfasts.
But there were several aspects of that program his brothers would object to, the first being that the horses hadn’t been fed. That whole amble idea, once the kids were awake, wouldn’t go over too well, either.
So he pushed himself out of bed, showered and dressed, then left a note for Jess saying he’d meet her for breakfast after his chores were done. She smiled in her sleep when he dropped a kiss on her forehead—the second-best way to start his day.
Between feeding in the rain, setting up the tack room for the kids to use when they cleaned their saddles and bridles, sweeping out the barn and brushing down some cobwebs from the ceiling, he didn’t get into the house until close to ten o’clock.
Jess was waiting for him in the living room. “I told Susannah you were coming. She’s making your breakfast. But I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Sure.” He waited till she sat on the couch and took the cushion next to her. “What’s going on?”
“I called Patricia Trevor in New York, mentioned I was finishing up the article and just wanted to get her slant on the show and your current approach. I can’t believe what she had to say.”
“What was it?”
“First, she didn’t really remember what kind of work you were doing now and asked me to describe it.”
“Well, that’s a kick in the ego. I’ve sold a few pieces here and there, and she said she’d seen one, which was why she called in the first place.”
“Then she said that what you were doing sounded rather ‘pedestrian,’ but that it didn’t matter.”
“Didn’t matter?”
“Because she believes your name alone will draw people to the show. Her main objective is to showcase the Denver gallery itself, and the best way, she decided, was to bring in a crowd. People would meet her, she could make contacts and they’d remember her when they were shopping for real art.”
‘“Real.’ Okay.” He blew out a breath. “But why me? I haven’t shown in two years.”
“She said she wanted to use the notorious—her word—aspect of your reputation. The unsolved mystery of your disappearance. And she figured you and your agent would be desperate and wouldn’t ask for as much money as someone who’d exhibited more recently.”
“Can’t say she’s wrong there. My agent was all over this offer.” Dylan fell back against the sofa. “Anything else to add to the debacle?”
“As far as the article was concerned, she wanted as much dirt—again, her word—as possible. ‘Anything to make noise,’ she said. ‘The more salacious, the better.’” Jess had tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Dylan. I informed her she’d probably be disappointed in the article and hung up before I started swearing at her. I figured you’d want to know.”
He linked his fingers with hers and squeezed her hand. “I’m not surprised at Ms. Trevor’s attitude, just that she’d be so honest about it. But here’s what I think.” He stood up and pulled Jess to her feet. “With such low expectations, how can I lose? People will see my work, they’ll like it or they won’t, they buy or they don’t. But I’ll have had national exposure in your magazine and a fancy gallery showing. If she can use me, I can use her, too.”
“Good point. And you could do some advertising on your own behalf, in magazines aimed at Western art collectors.”
“Exactly. You probably have an idea of which ones would be useful. Or can figure it out for me.”
“Of course.” She threw her arms around his neck for a hug. “You’re right—proactive is so much more productive. We could plan an advertising campaign to get the right kind of people into the gallery that night.”
Susannah appeared in the doorway to the dining room. “Breakfast is ready. Hope you two are starved. I got a little carried away.”
“So are we,” Dylan said, grinning. “But isn’t it a great feeling?”
* * *
BREAKFAST TURNED OUT to be the high point of the day. Jess and Dylan spent a couple of hours researching magazines that would be receptive to advertisements, but when she went to get her camera to take photographs of his work, she realized for the first time that it, too, had been stolen.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it,” she said. The memory card with all the shots she’d taken since she’d arrived was in the camera. “I hadn’t saved those photos online yet. I’ve been too busy.”
“I’m so sorry.” Dylan stood at the door to her room. “It’s hard to understand why something can’t be done. There aren’t too many places in eastern Wyoming to sell stolen goods. Seems like the sheriff’s office could have checked those out by now.”
“Maybe selling the stuff isn’t the point.” She was frustrated enough to say exactly what she thought. “Maybe just making us miserable is the goal.”
“Which leads us back to the kids.”
Jess nodded, but then saw Caroline standing behind Dylan. “I understand why you don’t want to believe this is linked to one of the teenagers,” she told the other woman. “But they are complicated creatures who don’t always return the goodwill they’ve been offered.”
“I know that’s true.” Caroline slipped past Dylan to enter the room and give Jess a hug. “And if it’s one of ours, there will be consequences. Ford called the sheriff’s office. Deputy Daughtry will be out tomorrow morning to talk to the kids. We’ll try to get some answers as to who’s responsible.”
“Thanks.” Jess tried to let go of her anger, but losing her camera and the photographs was a heavy blow. She sat down to work with Justino and Lena on their writing after lunch, but found herself more quick-tempered than usual.
Justino’s paragraph had been the shortest of all the kids’ efforts. He’d written it in Spanish. On the same page, Jess wrote a translation.
I’m not in school and I don’t have to finish this stupid writing assignment. When I grow up Lena and I will get married and move to Los Angeles. I will become a famous record producer and make lots of money so I can take care of her the way she deserves. The world I imagine is the one where I’m rich and Lena loves only me.
“Did I get it right?” Jess asked him.
His sullen expression answered without a word.
“I think what you imagine is wonderful. Taking care of people you love is an important goal. I just hoped you would give me some idea of how you planned to do that.”
He shrugged. “I said I’d produce records. Latino music,” he said emphatically, as if to prove a point.
“How do you get to be a producer?”
“You work for a company. Or you start your own.”
“Do you need money to start your own label? Where does that come from?”
Justino surged to his feet, and his chair fell over behind him. “Why the hell are you bugging me about this? I wrote your stupid page. Leave me alone!” He stomped across to the boys’ bedroom and slammed the door behind him.
Jess looked at Lena. “Why did he become so upset?”
“He doesn’t want to think that it will be hard. Justino likes things to be easy.”
“If he doesn’t stay in school, that’s probably not going to be the case.”
The girl sighed. “I know. I try to tell him but he wants the respect of the boys he hangs out with.”
“Gang members?”
Lena shrugged and avoided Jess’s gaze.
The possibilities for tragedy in this scenario piqued her temper. “Remember the story I told you about my friend Trini? That could so easily be you, Lena, if Justino joins a gang. He won’t stay the same sweet guy you love now. And you’ll find yourself doing things you
never believed you would do, just to keep him.” She gripped the girl’s arm. “Please, make sure he stays away from that life. For both your sakes.”
“Ow.” The girl pulled away. “That hurt. We’ll be fine. We take care of each other.” Her phone, lying on the table, vibrated to signal a message. “Can I go now?”
“Sure.”
Jess stacked the papers lying on the table. “That went well.” Glancing around the room, she saw Marcos over on the couch, playing a game on his phone. She had meant to talk with him today, too, but after fighting with Justino, it didn’t seem like such a good idea. Nate appeared to be deep in his book, and she would hate to disturb him.
Finding Becky meant a walk through the rain to the girls’ cabin, but at least she’d be more receptive. Jess wiped her sneakers on the mat outside the door and knocked. “Girls? It’s Jess. Can I come in?” She opened the door as she spoke and stepped inside...
...to find Lizzie lying on the couch in a suggestive pose, having her photograph taken by Becky.
With Jess’s camera.
“That’s mine,” Jess said.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Becky put the camera in the chair next to where Jess stood. “I’m really sorry.”
Lizzie scrambled to sit upright. “We only borrowed it. Really.”
“You ask when you borrow something. Taking without asking is stealing.”
Both girls hung their heads. Lizzie swiped her fingers over her cheeks.
“Do you have everything else? The computers and the phones?”
Becky looked up in panic. “No. Oh, no. We didn’t take anything else. Honest.”
“How am I supposed to believe you?”
“Check our stuff. Really, that’s the only thing we took.” Lizzie rushed to the bedroom and brought back a duffel bag. “See? There’s nothing but clothes and makeup.”
If only to scare them, Jess pawed through the messy bag. Then she went into the bedroom and made a show of examining the remaining duffels, looking under the beds and in all the closets. She checked the bathroom and the kitchen cabinets, though she’d stopped expecting to find anything.
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