by Pema Donyo
Jesse just nodded and headed in the direction of the horses. His pace was brisk, as if he couldn’t get away fast enough.
She sighed as she stared at his retreating form. What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been thinking, not at all. Evelyn shut her eyes, the embarrassment washing over her in waves. This was what happened when she didn’t rationalize her actions. So much for a night ride. All her attempts at friendship seemed to end in the same way: with him walking away from her. She wasn’t sorry she’d landed on him.
She was sorry she couldn’t reach out to him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jesse sighed. “Preston, you know I have to do what’s right for my sister—”
“And that apparently involves ignoring her wishes. Got it, Greenwood.” His friend let out a low huff. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and scuffed his boots against the dirt. “Don’t like it, but I get it. That doctor’s son gonna amount to more than I ever will. Just seems funny to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Being a ranch hand used to be enough for you.” Preston spit on the ground, and Jesse had a strong feeling Preston actually wanted to spit at him. “You used to talk about running away with Evelyn and making a living being a cowboy. You never had a problem with our way of life then.”
He rubbed his jaw. “That was a long time ago.”
“So you’ve changed?”
“I grew up.”
Preston remained silent. He brought his arms over the posts of the corral, staring out at the ranch. Jesse wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t sure what he would be apologizing for. He remembered when he had spoken those words to Preston. That vision of the future had only existed when seen with the clarity of a sixteen-year-old.
Preston whistled long and low. “There’s nothing she can’t do on the ranch. Is she fixin’ up that wire by herself?”
Jesse narrowed his eyes out at the pastures. Evelyn was kneeling against the wire, a hammer in one hand and the other hand pressed against the post. It was closer to the house than the barbed wire they’d inspected the other night, but that didn’t make the job any easier. Surely she wasn’t putting up a barbed wire by herself. He scanned the area surrounding her. To his surprise, no one else was there. Usually two men handled that wire: one stretched it while the other nailed it to the nearest post.
Together he and Preston approached Evelyn.
“We can handle it for you.”
She looked up at the sound of Preston’s voice. Sweat beaded down the side of her forehead, and she wiped it away with her shirt sleeve. Her eyes caught Jesse’s.
Suddenly, the sun’s heat seemed a whole lot hotter.
She tore her gaze away to consider Preston’s offer. “Sure could use a hand. One of you needs to milk the cows. Denny usually does that, but he said he was sick today.”
“I’ll do it.”
Before Jesse could respond, Preston had already scooted off in the direction of the barn.
She didn’t look up at Jesse, though. He watched her work, her thin arms somehow whacking the hammer against the post with more masculine strength than most of the ranch hands. He picked up the wire, stretching it out so it was easier for her to nail.
“Thanks.” She nodded and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear before she began hammering again. Her black hair was tucked neatly in the back, but her hat was off, leaving the loose tendrils to frame her pronounced cheekbones. She’d lost weight. Working on the land hadn’t been kind to her. Still, the apples of her cheeks flushed, and she grinned when the nail was secured. For someone who’d been educated at one of those fancy East Coast seminaries, he’d never seen anyone look more fulfilled performing physical labor than Evelyn.
The sun rose high above them, and the rays beat down on the back of Evelyn’s neck. She unbuttoned the top of her shirt, allowing the wind to caress more of the creamy skin at the nape of her neck. Jesse’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he gulped at the sight. They worked in silence for a few minutes. Well, she worked. He just held up the wire against the post and tried desperately not to look at her.
When they’d finished at least half of the posts, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. She clapped her hands together, dusting them off. Jesse lifted a nearby canteen and passed it over to her. She grabbed the canteen with eagerness, gulping down the water as if she would otherwise die of thirst if she wasted a single second.
“Thank you.” She handed him back the container. “You know, I always used to watch you work on the ranch and wonder what it was like.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think it suits me.” She let out an unladylike snort and placed her hands on her hips. “I like getting my hands dirty more than I ever thought I would. I always thought I would pursue an academic career, you know? But I’ve realized the right career for me is here, managing the ranch. Suits me better than reading indoors or studying piano ever did.”
“I always thought so.”
“You did?” Evelyn beamed with pride. Her eyes shone in the light of the sun, the specks of gold in her emerald eyes gleaming. The orbs of her eyes were nearly as green as the pastures rolling in the hills behind her. “Did you always?”
“Yes, I did.” Jesse took a few sips from the canteen and placed it back on the ground next to one of the posts. When he stood, he noticed she was still staring at him with that same expectant expression of hers.
“When did you first think so?”
He shifted his weight. “Remember when I taught you how to ride? Reckoned you were a cowboy to the manner born.”
She brushed a stray tendril of hair behind her ear and laughed at his question. “Of course I do. My father was so shocked to see a girl not riding sidesaddle. That was the first real time I ever talked to you, too. I miss that sometimes, you know? The innocence. The childhood that came before responsibilities.”
“Before society placed you in a certain class,” he added.
She considered his words for a moment. “There is one thing I never understood about childhood, though.”
“What?”
“I never understood what they always told us about growing older, that everything would make more sense, that we would understand the world infinitely more. ‘You will understand when you are older.’ Well, I am older.” She threw her hands in the air, an exasperated expression on her face. “Twenty-three and I barely understand myself, let alone anything else!”
Jesse couldn’t help himself. He threw back his head and laughed for the first time in a long time. “You’re right,” he agreed. “There’s something else I never understood either.”
She smiled. “What was it?”
“How on earth folks manage to wear those pinching fancy dress shoes.” He shook his head, with what he hoped was a solemn expression on his face. “Cowboy boots are all I wore here, and cowboy boots were all I ever wore in that hotel in California.”
This time it was her turn to laugh. “I can just imagine you strutting about that hotel, owning the place among some high-class guests, marching around in your dust-covered black stovetop boots.”
“Hey, those dust-covered boots are comfortable,” he protested. A grin spread on his face. Knowing he’d made her laugh made him throw his shoulders back just a bit more. “Wore them around so much that the rest of the hotel staff started to wear ’em, too.”
“No!” She giggled. For a moment, he could have sworn they were sixteen again. “I would pay anything to see that sight. What is your hotel like out there in California?”
“Sure a lot different from here, that’s for sure.” He sighed, folding his arms. “Wasn’t easy to start out there, but as soon as the manager died and left me the place, money started to flow into my pocket pretty quickly.”
“But what is it like?” Evelyn bent down again and lifted up the wire. This time he took up a nail and hammer and started securing the wire against the post. He felt her curious gaze on him, imploring him for more infor
mation.
“Looks a lot like your house, to be honest. Just a big, nice house where people would stay on their way up further north. The rich folks, I mean.” He glanced down at Evelyn. “The ones who looked disapprovingly at cowboy boots.”
He could have sworn she winked. “I certainly would not have looked disapprovingly at them.”
“No, because you’d be wearing the outfit you have on now.”
She took her free hand to pinch her shirt’s calico cloth between her forefinger and thumb. “I bet I would. How would they receive me, Jesse?”
“A lady strutting around in cowboy boots, britches, and a calico shirt? They would look at you like you came from the moon. Should have taken you along with me to California. You would have given those guests a real fright.”
Evelyn stood up to her full height. She looked up at him through the tops of her full lashes. A look that was far from just friendship. “Maybe you should have.”
His heart lurched against his own will as he watched her walk back toward the house. You need to stay on your guard, he reminded himself. She’d broken his heart before; could he trust her again?
“Maybe we should also grab something to eat,” she called over her shoulder.
And maybe there was hope for a second chance.
CHAPTER SIX
Evelyn entertained images of Jesse Greenwood’s strong arms around her narrow waist as she walked to the barn. The cows in their stalls didn’t seem to care what romantic ideas were running through her head. She picked up the cool metal pail from the corner of the barn and hauled it to the first of the stalls.
At the end of the aisle, she caught a glimpse of a man smoking a cigarette and leaning against the closed stall door. She scowled as soon as she recognized him.
“Denny!” She marched over to the ranch hand. By the time she reached him, the incriminating cigarette was out of his hands, probably discarded somewhere in the haystacks. “You’re not milking the cows today. Where should you be?”
“Helping set up the fence posts, ma’am.” Denny slumped his shoulders.
“I do not ever want to see you neglecting your work again, you hear me?”
He mumbled something under his breath, averting his eyes from hers.
She raised her voice. “I said, did you hear me?”
“I heard you, ma’am.”
“Go help set up those fence posts right now!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Denny slunk away, down the aisle and toward the barn door.
“If I catch you hiding away from your chores again I will not hesitate to let you go next time!” she called out. As soon as the barn door swung shut behind him, she shook her head. Breighton had barely begun to turn a profit. She couldn’t risk paying the wages of inefficient ranch hands.
Evelyn returned to the business of milking cows. She heard a small sound coming from where Denny had stood, but she ignored it. Probably one of the cows just being restless.
The cow shifted in place as she approached her. “Calm down,” she soothed. “It’s only me.” Her hands gripped the udders and squeezed downward into the metal bucket below.
Her thoughts wandered to the mysterious man behind the letters. The notes had increased in frequency as the friendship between them grew. They even shared multiple letters a day sometimes. Other suitors had expressed interest in her in the past, of course, especially the ever-patient John, but these letters were filled with such longing and intimacy. Jesse was the only possible man she knew that could have written them.
But he wasn’t the kind of man to deny the truth when caught. Or at least he wasn’t before he left for California. Who knew, now? Evelyn sniffed the air. Strange. A scent she couldn’t quite place filled her nostrils. It was a mix of old hay and something else entirely. An odd smell filled the barn. It wasn’t manure either; it was something richer.
She continued to milk the cow until the pail filled to the brim. There. Another chore crossed off the list. She picked up the large pail and stood to begin the trek back to the house. Yet that charred scent still lingered in the air. She scanned the area, searching for the source of the smell. There was nothing odd in the stall.
She pushed open the stall door, trying not to swing the pail in her hands. The smell persisted. It increased with each passing moment, the pungent scent reminding her of a fireplace.
The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. The aisle was completely normal, but the animals in the barn grew restless. Horses bucked wildly in their stalls. More sounds accompanied the animals’ vocal fear. A crackling noise struck behind her, and sudden whooshes of air accompanied the sound of a blaze building. Evelyn gulped.
Smoke. The smell was smoke.
The metal pail clanged to the floor, white milk spilling across the hay in all directions. Her hands lay slack at her sides, ignoring the bucket rolling on the ground in front of her.
“Fire!” she screamed.
• • •
Jesse matched Mr. Lancaster’s slow stride across the cleared dirt road. “I cannot thank you enough for working as a ranch hand at Breighton for free. Of course I’ll get you your cut of the profit, but I do appreciate your help,” the old man said grudgingly. Jesse could tell every word cost his new business partner another piece of his soul.
Jesse waved his hand and stepped forward. The chill of the air made him fold his hands across his chest to conserve heat. “I grew up on this ranch, Mr. Lancaster. Can’t see it fall apart.”
“Even so.” Mr. Lancaster stopped walking as soon as they reached the fences. He rested his hand against the post for support before they continued back toward the house. “You’ll see your first profit payment when . . .” Suddenly, his lips parted, and his widened eyes flickered from Jesse to something behind him.
Jesse leaned forward, waiting for the rest of the sentence. “Everything all right, Mr. Lancaster?”
“Good Lord!” His eyes filled with terror. “The barn!”
Jesse whipped his head around.
One side of the barn was ablaze, while ranch hands gathered outside to try to contain the fire. A line had formed from the well, and desperate pails of water were passed along to put out the rising blaze. Most fearsome was the thick smoke drifting from the entrance of the barn. It permeated everywhere, causing the cowboys closest to the blaze to lift their shirts over their mouths to guard against the fiery air.
Someone had raced inside long enough to let the animals out of their stalls, because nearly all the cows were clustered outside the barn. Several of the horses bucked wildly as smoke filled the air, whinnying as cowboys barely hung onto the reins of the animals to keep them from escaping. Other cowboys rounded up the frightened cattle that had been scared enough to break out of the herd.
Jesse raced forward.
Denny, the youngest ranch hand, was at the center of a group of cowboys. Someone was trying to calm him down, but he just kept shaking his head no matter what the boys said to him.
He flinched as Jesse grabbed his shirt lapels, yanking him into the air.
“What happened? What started the fire?”
“It was . . . it was my fault.” Denny sniffed and shuddered. His eyes were wide in fear. “I was so mad that Miss had caught me smoking, I thought I’d just leave my cigarette in the hay and let her stamp it out for me . . .”
Jesse’s stomach plummeted. “Miss? Miss who?”
He stopped sniffling to look up in confusion. “Why, Miss Lancaster, of course.” He gasped.
“God, she’s still in there! Miss Lancaster’s still in that barn!”
Dread filled the pit of his gut as his worst fear was confirmed. Jesse spun around to take in the sight of the burning building. The blaze was probably worse inside. A whooshing sound echoed through his ears as flames fanned into the evening air.
He scanned the crowd around him and cursed beneath his breath. No sign of Evelyn anywhere. There was no way she would be cooped up in the house when her barn was burning. The animals had been moved to safe
ty, but she had been left inside.
Without ceremony, Jesse dropped Denny. The ranch hand fell to the ground with a whimper. Jesse felt nothing but disgust toward him. He ran from Denny to the front of the water bucket brigade. The ranch hands seemed to be making at least slow progress toward putting out the blaze, but it wouldn’t be enough to save anyone inside. Anything inside would be burned to a crisp.
Jesse gritted his teeth. Or anyone.
His body snapped back as another pair of hands grabbed him. He attempted to shrug off the hands, but the person holding onto him had a firm grip. His attacker turned Jesse around and placed both hands onto his shoulders.
A familiar voice growled at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I have to get inside the barn!”
“Oh no, you ain’t. You can’t go in there!” Fieldings, the oldest ranch hand, scowled at Jesse. “Not if you want to live, Greenwood. Help the men from outside.”
He pushed Fieldings off, who staggered back. “Evelyn Lancaster is still in that barn!”
Fieldings grabbed Jesse by the neck of his shirt and glared. “Trying to get yourself killed?” he asked. “Look here, I want Miss Lancaster saved as much as anyone. But we don’t want to lose two lives today instead of one. Ain’t no glory in that, Greenwood. Save yourself and the barn and the animals first, then we’ll get Miss Lancaster.”
Jesse recoiled and shoved the man’s hands off his shirt. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let her die. He raced toward the entrance of the barn as his mind registered the protests of the men from outside. Jesse pushed open the barn door and jumped inside. As soon as he entered, he pulled up his wool shirt to cover his mouth and nose against the fumes. The large barn door swung shut behind him, as if trapping him to confirm the consequences of his perilous choice. No time to think twice. Pure instinct drove his body forward further toward the flames.
Smoke filled every crevice of the building. The gray cloud permeated the outside air as well, but with the concentration of the wooden slats surrounding all sides of the barn, the effect was even more disorienting and daunting inside. He could barely see the stalls around him and rafters above him. The cloud of smoke was too dense to make out anything except blurred outlines and vivid flames.
