Another Chance

by Michelle Beattie

  "Women teach in schools. Letty works the mercantile; Mrs. Hollingsworth runs a boarding house. Why is that all right but what I do so wrong?"

  "It's different. You do a man's work, Jillian, and it's hard and dangerous. You could get hurt. You can be called upon any time of day, in any kind of weather, making it even more inappropriate for a woman. And," he said, warming to his argument, "Letty and Mrs. Hollingsworth's work doesn't put them in harm's way."

  Jillian frowned. "Since neither Steven nor his friends even like me, why would they care if I got hurt? And the same argument stands for the time of day I could be called upon to tend an animal. What I do would never affect them personally." Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

  "You're not talking about them! You're talking about yourself, aren't you?"

  The steel in her gaze didn't bode well for him.

  "Jillian-"

  "You lied. You told me the reason you couldn't be with me was because you had too much to deal with at the moment. But it's because of what I do, isn't it?"

  Hell, there wasn't a good to answer that.

  "Jillian-"

  "Don't 'Jillian' me!" Hope shied at the shout and Jillian grabbed the reins before Hope could bolt.

  Wade took in her narrowed eyes, her small fisted hands. He had a bad feeling he'd already dug himself too deep a hole. It shouldn't matter, given the fact that she was right, that it was his thoughts he'd been discussing. But suddenly it mattered very much.

  "All right, yes. It's how I feel." He raised his palms. "But I'd never hurt you over it."

  Jillian's gaze could cut glass. "Does that make everything all right to you? You kissed me, made love to me."

  "I didn't lie to you."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Well, you weren't honest either."

  "I'm in debt up to here," he slashed his throat with his finger. "I can't possibly think about bringing a wife into that. And I do have a daughter to consider. And a ranch to run and-"

  "Tell me this, then. If I had come to town as the schoolteacher, or if I were a widow doing other people's laundry to keep a roof over my head, would we be having this discussion? Would you be refusing to be with me? Refusing to make promises?"

  Wade ran a hand around the back of his neck. He was sweating again and his palm came away damp.

  "That's what I thought." Jillian stuck her foot in the stirrup, lifted herself into the saddle and adjusted her skirts.

  Wade grabbed Hope's reins. "You make it sound simple, that it's black or white. It's not. Look at this," he gestured to the rifle she had tied to the saddle. "You're home, your possessions have been attacked because of what you do. You can't go anywhere anymore without carrying a rifle."

  "That's because of Steven!"

  "It because of what you do!" He took a deep breath, tried again. "I've never feared for Annabelle the way I did tonight."

  Jillian tried to wrestle away the reins but Wade held fast. They weren't done yet. He wanted her to understand.

  "Annabelle was never in any danger." Hurt darkened her eyes. "I've come to care for her. I'd never let anything happen to her."

  "Not on purpose, no. But she rode to your place alone. Anything could have befallen her. Don't you see?" he pleaded.

  "I'll tell you what I see," Jillian said. "You didn't know about any of what's happened at my house until today. And it was last night when you told me you couldn't make promises, so your mind was already set. This," she waved her hand in the air, "is just excuses."

  "It's not an excuse! It's-"

  "I've already lived through this once!" she screamed. "I thought you were different, that you were a better man than Clint."

  Wade felt as though he'd been punched. "Who the hell is Clint?"

  "The man I was engaged to before he decided that what I did wasn't proper. Before he told me that once we were married he wouldn't allow me to be a doctor."

  Wade was reeling. "You were engaged to be married? You never said a word."

  Jillian's eyes flashed fire. "And you never said a thing either, about not being able to accept the fact that I'm a doctor."

  "I-"

  But Jillian was like a freight train full of steam and she was charging ahead. "From the time I decided to follow in my father's footsteps I've never wavered from my goal. And despite it being what I wanted most, I sacrificed a lot to pursue my dream. Because it was all I wanted. I never thought that would change." Her voice cracked and Wade felt its effects as though he were horsewhipped.

  "But after last night, I questioned that goal. That maybe it wasn't everything. That maybe there was more to life than what I had." Her hands fisted over her breasts. Her eyes shone with pain. "And I considered sacrificing all of that for a chance to have a life with you and Annabelle, because I was stupid enough to think that you believed in me. That maybe you loved me as much as I was coming to love you."

  The earth shifted beneath his feet. She loved him? "If you were thinking of giving it up, then why are we arguing?"

  Jillian's jaw dropped. "Why? Because when I considered giving it up it was because of the town. Because it wouldn't accept me, not because you wouldn't. If I stayed, it would be with the hope that one day they'd change their minds, that one day I'd get to work at what I love. But now I see that you would never accept that. You're just like Clint."

  He felt like he was on the edge on the hill and his boots were losing purchase. Any minute now he'd tumble down.

  "Jillian, you're not the only one who's gone through this once already. Amy, my wife, decided after she had Annabelle that she wanted to be a midwife. I wasn't happy about it, but I thought if it made her happy, what was the harm? She died, Jillian, riding out to deliver a baby. It was dark and something spooked her horse. She was thrown." He shut his eyes and saw Amy lying there, broken and bleeding. By the time they'd found her, it had been hours since she'd fallen. They'd been too late to help her.

  "Annabelle lost her ma and I lost my wife. For what? If she'd been home that wouldn't have happened."

  "It could have. Did she never ride around the ranch?"

  His teeth set. "That's different."

  "No, it's not. You're just too narrow-minded to see it and you're blaming Amy's midwifery as the reason she died."

  "She'd be alive if she hadn't gone that night!"

  Jillian flinched. Wade heaved a breath. "I can't put myself and Annabelle through that again."

  "I'm not Amy, Wade."

  He could see she was fighting tears and he wasn't proud of it. But he needed to be clear, needed her to understand.

  "I know that. But in some ways you're both the same. A man, a family, will never be enough for you. You'll always want more."

  "Is that what you think? That you weren't enough? That by Amy deciding to be a midwife, it somehow made you less of a man?"

  It wounded his pride to say it, but they'd made love and now he was telling her they couldn't be together. She deserved the truth.

  "Yes," he admitted with a hitch in his voice.

  "Did it never occur to you that Amy's being a midwife didn't make you less? It made her more."

  Wade shook his head. "What?"

  "I'm sure she didn't love you or Annabelle less. But maybe there was a part of her that needed something else."

  "And you don't think that makes me feel as though I wasn't enough for her?"

  "You have a ranch, Wade. Could you give it up?"

  His head snapped. "Absolutely not."

  "Why? It's not making you rich."

  Her words stung, because, dammit, they were true. "Because I love it. Because-"

  "It's a part of you. It's no different for me. I'd never ask you to give up the ranch. It's your legacy, and it's who you are." A tear slipped out and she wiped it. "I'd work with you on the ranch, I'd stay no matter how little money it earned because without it, you wouldn't be who you are." Her chin rose. "And I won't accept less than the same in return."

  She pulled on the reins. Knowing there was nothing more to be
said, Wade let her go.

  NINETEEN

  She rode low and let Hope fly. The trees and grass were a large green blur as they raced toward home. Of course speed was only one reason for the blurry image. The other was the tears that tumbled from her eyes.

  What a fool she'd been! Until meeting Wade she'd been single-minded in her thinking. She wanted to be a veterinarian. Everything she'd done from the time she'd made the decision as a young girl was toward that purpose. To think she'd considered compromising that for a man, a man who would never consider her worthy!

  The tears flowed from the corner of her eyes into her ears. Hope's hooves pounded the ground. Jillian was indifferent to it all but the tearing sensation in her heart. When her little house came into view, Jillian didn't ease her speed, but she did pull the rifle out of the scabbard. If someone was there, he'd picked the wrong time to threaten what was hers.

  But other than Zeke, the calf and its mother, the yard was empty. As Jillian finally reined Hope in, she couldn't help feeling disappointed. She may have been scared earlier. But right then, she was more than ready to defend herself.

  With the rifle within arm's reach, Jillian removed the saddle, bridle and blanket. Then, with her fingers curled in the halter, she walked Hope around the small yard until they'd both cooled off. In the barn she brushed her horse, praised her and fed her. Once the tack was put away, she grabbed the gun and went into the house. She wasn't hungry but she'd left the blankets and pillows on her bed. Her plans to sleep in the barn hadn't changed.

  The house was unchanged; nothing had been disturbed. Jillian took the covers and made herself a bed in Whiskers' now empty stall. She didn't linger, simply moved his cage outside, lit and hung a lantern, and made herself a pallet. She did her evening chores, availed herself of the outhouse.

  In the house she made herself coffee, took a hunk of bread and cheese, wrapped them in a towel. She took her meager supper back with her to the barn where she set it on her blankets.

  Keeping everything on but her shoes, Jillian crawled underneath her covers. The barn door was closed and secured. Her shotgun was beside her bed. The lantern filled her stall with soft light. Around her the animals shuffled in their pens, crunched their food.

  Animals had always been a refuge for her. They didn't judge, didn't criticize. She could be around them and be herself and for the most part, they welcomed her.

  "Unlike this stupid town," she muttered.

  From the first they'd heard of her, before most of them had even met her, they'd judged her. Judged her and, like Wade, found her lacking. She'd been polite and tried to win them over. And what had it gotten her?

  Nothing. She had no work. Her property had been damaged. She was worried enough about her animals to sleep in a barn. The man she'd given her body to couldn't accept her for who she was. And, she thought with a heavy heart, her money was drying up faster than a drought-ridden prairie.

  She couldn't afford to stay much longer. While she'd made good friends, and she knew how hard true friends were to find, she couldn't stay for them. After Eileen and James' wedding, if she hadn't had work, she'd need to move on. If Cedar Springs couldn't find a way to accept her, then she needed to find a place that would.

  It was as she'd told Wade, being a doctor wasn't only something she did, it was who she was.

  Wasn't it?

  ***

  By the time Wade left Annabelle's room he was exhausted and had a thumping headache. He'd explained about Steven, how they had to be careful for a while. How she couldn't wander off without telling anyone again.

  She'd apologized, explained why she'd gone to Jillian's to begin with and how they'd spent time in the barn before heading back to the ranch. Wade had been furious to hear this. Jillian had made him feel like a bastard for his beliefs; he'd actually ridden home feeling that he was the one at fault. But knowing now that Jillian had kept Annabelle in her barn for nearly an hour knowing he was sure to be worried sick looking for her, and knowing Steven or one of his friends was crazy enough to come after her, reinforced his decision.

  His daughter was better distanced from Jillian.

  He poked his head in the kitchen. All was quiet. It wasn't completely dark outside yet but his ma had left a lantern burning low on the table. It cast flickering shadows on the log walls. His mind full, Wade left the light burning and stepped outside.

  The swing creaked and Scott came to his feet. He grabbed a couple fishing poles he'd set against the railing.

  "Thought you could use a little distraction."

  What he could use was a whiskey but since Scott didn't drink, Wade accepted the pole and followed his friend to the creek. Scott had dug up worms and he settled the jar of the crawly creatures between them.

  Wade baited the hook, tossed the line in the gently flowing water. Scott was a bit more selective with his worms but his line plopped in not long after.

  "I haven't changed my mind about the horse ranch," Wade said after a few minutes.

  "I knew you wouldn't have." Scott pulled in his line, then calmly let it out again. "But out of curiosity have you noticed Jillian's filly?" Scott whistled. "I bet a colt out of that one, especially if we bred her with Whiskey, would be a hell of an animal. Likely bring in a nice profit."

  "Dammit, Scott." He could see it. It was so clear it made his heart yearn. "I told you I can't!"

  Scott looked over his shoulder. "And having a wife with Jillian's skills would come in real handy."

  "I'm not marrying Jillian to save money on vet bills!"

  "Of course not, you'll marry her because you love her. The vet bills are just gravy."

  "Jesus." Wade pinched the bridge of his nose. He wished...hell, he didn't even know what to wish for anymore but it seemed there wasn't much point in praying for peace and quiet since it seemed in damn limited supply these days.

  "Jillian and I won't be seeing any more of each other."

  "Why? You hit your head on a rock and lost all good sense?"

  "Look, I already had this argument once today, with Jillian. We aren't suited and that's all there is to it."

  "Who says you aren't suited? You or her?"

  "Scott-"

  "It's not a hard question, Wade. You or her?"

  He dropped his hand. "Me. All right?"

  "Tell me you don't agree with Steven."

  "I'd never hurt her!" Wade exclaimed. Around them the crickets went silent.

  "But you don't think she should be a doctor either? Why, when she's clearly remarkable at it?"

  "Ma was always there for me," he said after a while. "I never had to worry that she wouldn't be there at the end of the day, that she wouldn't come home."

  "What happened to Amy was an accident, Wade. It doesn't mean the same thing would happen to Jillian."

  Wade gave up the illusion of fishing and tossed his pole aside. "But it could, and I can't take that chance. I've got my hands full with the ranch. I give Annabelle what time I can, make more when I need to, but it's not the same as having a ma she can count on."

  "Annabelle has you, me, your ma, James. Even if Jillian had to leave to tend an animal, your daughter would hardly be abandoned."

  Maybe not. But he'd been helpless to keep Annabelle from losing her mother at such a young age. The least he owed her, when he did decide to remarry, was to give her a mother who would be there for her. Who wasn't in danger-not only from the town but also by the very profession she'd chosen.

  "She deserves a mother who'll be with her."

  "Oh, for the love of Pete." Scott threw his pole next to Wade's. "There are things more important in life than who will cook her damn breakfast!"

  Wade gaped as his usually affable friend went hot under the collar.

  "Let me tell you what Annabelle needs. She needs love, respect and to know that she's safe."

  When Wade had accepted the fishing pole he'd expected a little quiet camaraderie by the creek, he hadn't expected to get torn into. It turned his already foul mood rancid
.

  "And how would you know this?" Wade demanded, his hands on his hips. "You have ample experience with children you've kept to yourself all these years?"

  Scott's face went hard as the rocks that lined the creek. "I'd have given anything for what Annabelle has. A real home. A family. A father she knows, never mind adores. I'd have given anything for a mother who loved me enough to leave me the hell alone!"

  Scott had never mentioned his past before and he looked as surprised to have said it as Wade was to have heard it. Scott wiped his mouth with his sleeve, took in great gulps of air. Wade wasn't sure what to say or do and Scott's silence wasn't helping.

  But as the crickets resumed their chirping, Scott nodded to the poles. "You mind taking those back?"

  "Uh, no," Wade answered.

  But it was too late, he was already talking to Scott's back.

  ***

  Wade stayed by the creek a little longer. With Scott gone, he was finally alone to dwell on everything that had gone on today. He lay back on the grass, watched the stars emerge, and tried to lasso his wandering thoughts.

  Scott's words resonated in his ears. What did he mean by he wished his mother had loved him enough to leave him alone? Hell, since Scott was so tight-lipped about his past--the only thing he'd ever said was he was from Colorado--Wade had figured he'd been orphaned or some such thing. Instead it sounded like that might have been a better alternative.

  Which brought Wade around to Scott's other words. That all a child needed was to be loved, to feel safe and to have a home. Annabelle had all of those things, he'd seen to it. But unlike Scott who didn't seem to have happy memories of being a youngster, Wade did. He could look back and remember his ma kissing his scrapes, his ma helping him read, his ma kissing his forehead at night, long after he'd told her he was too big to be kissed by his ma.

  Annabelle had had all that with Amy. Until Amy had decided to be a midwife. Then, there'd been check-ups, long nights of delivering a baby, follow-up visits to ensure mother and child were doing fine. She'd missed meals. She hadn't always been back by Annabelle's bedtime. Then the accident happened and she hadn't been there at all. If only Jillian wasn't a doctor. If only she'd be happy being a wife and mother.