by Camille Eide
Her motorcycle.
An idea struck.
“Hey, Jasmine, want to go for a ride?”
The rocking slowed. With her face still planted between her knees, Jasmine’s voice was muffled. “Ride?”
Sue hauled herself up to standing. “Yeah, on my motorcycle. With me. Want to go?”
Jasmine lifted her head, but her hands covered her face. She took a couple deep breaths, then nodded.
Inside the shop, Sue made Jasmine put on a spare riding jacket and helmet and then mounted the bike. Jasmine settled behind Sue, arms around her middle, and they slowly took off down the dirt drive.
At the end of the road, Sue turned south and gradually brought the bike up to speed. “You doing okay, Jasmine?”
“Super fast!” Jasmine hollered.
That was all Sue needed to hear. Grinning, she hit the last gear, rolled the throttle back, and let her faithful, old buddy fly.
Jasmine gripped Sue’s waist as they headed south toward the dry expanse of Summer Lake. The setting sun cast a warm, dancing glow atop the range of hills to the west.
The force and chill of the November wind struck Sue hard, numbing and invigorating her at the same time. She hadn’t felt this kind of freedom in far too long.
As they made the long loop around the dry, grass-filled lakebed, Sue kept an eye out for darting rabbits and sage rats.
Jasmine’s arms tightened around Sue.
As they rounded a curve, a pair of pronghorn antelope raised their heads from across the grassy lakebed. Sue pointed them out to Jasmine.
A minute later, the girl tapped Sue and pointed east to a large eagle rising from the trees in the distance, its broad wingspan magnificent against the deep, multihued sky. Bald eagle migration had begun.
Just before they finished circling the dry lake, the phone in Sue’s pocket vibrated. She circled the lake and headed for the junction back to the ranch.
The phone buzzed again.
She pulled over and checked her phone. Three missed calls from Bertie.
Wincing, Sue put the kick stand down and killed the bike. She let Jasmine off to stretch while she returned the call.
“Hate to have to ask you this,” Bertie said slowly, “but do you know where Jasmine is?”
Sue winced. “She’s with me.”
Silence. “You didn’t tell anyone.”
“You’re right, Bert, I’m sorry.” She drew in a lungful of ponderosa pine-scented air. “Blonde moment. Won’t happen again.”
“Blonde?” Bertie snorted. “That’s a new one. So did it work? Taking her for a ride?”
A few feet away, Jasmine fingered a leathery-green bush beside the road.
“I think so.”
Bertie muttered something about rethinking her methods for stress management and ended the call.
Sue dismounted and joined Jasmine. Helmet in hand, she stood beside the girl, who was watching a beetle. “You okay, Jas?”
She nodded, gaze following the insect’s path.
“Want to talk about what happened with you and Brandi?”
Jasmine shrugged. “Brandi say kids have to leave ranch if we not get enough money. I tell her shut up. She laugh. Say I stupid.” Jasmine tilted her head, still watching the insect. “My English stink, but I not stupid.”
“No, you’re not stupid. But you did attack a girl twice your size, Jas. Not the smartest move. She could’ve really hurt you. And it’s not a healthy way to deal with anger.”
The girl shrugged again. “What then—tell Miss Roberta? You say be strong girl and take care myself.” She tilted her head, watching the beetle. “That what you do?”
“It’s great to have friends and people in your life, but I’ve learned …” Needing people only leads to hurt. “The sooner you can take care of yourself without depending on anyone, the happier you’ll be.”
Jasmine bent closer to inspect the bug. “Happy like you.”
Could there possibly be a more complicated topic to discuss with a fourteen-year-old kid who had hang-ups no one really understood?
Carefully, Jasmine coaxed the beetle onto her finger. “If bug has broken wing and can’t fly, and I put in safe place away from mean birds, she okay because I help. Right?” She deposited the insect onto a lower branch.
The kid had a knack for logic. She’d make a great lawyer. “I’m not saying we don’t need help sometimes. But we have to be strong on our own. If you protect that beetle all the time, she won’t get strong enough to survive by herself. Then, the minute you leave, she’s bird food. She’s better off learning how to escape from predators now, without your help.”
“Maybe I stay with bug and help, always watch. Keep mean birds away.” Jasmine’s eyes lit, guarded yet earnest. “Maybe someone always with me. Always help me.”
At Jasmine’s hesitant, hopeful look, a queasy feeling formed in Sue’s gut. She’d probably regret this, but … “Like who?”
“Papa Joe say he has big Papa in heaven. God. He not see Him, but He always there. Always love and take care of him.”
“He told you that, huh?” Her lips smashed together so hard they hurt.
“Yes. But why Papa Joe need help? He stronger than anyone.” She hunted for the insect, then slipped carefully around the bush to follow its movements.
Sue couldn’t explain Joe Paterson any more than she could sprout wings and fly to the top of Table Rock. “Mister Joe has his own ways. Whatever makes him happy, I guess.”
Jasmine nodded. “He most happy when he sing to Papa God.”
Sue wanted to scream. Because that was probably the only way she could shake the sensation making a knot of her insides. Instead, she stood and brushed off her jeans. “Well, since Mister Joe is leaving soon and taking his invisible ‘Papa’ with him, you and I will just have to keep watch for the mean birds ourselves, right, kiddo?” She climbed on the Harley and motioned for Jasmine.
Time to give Papa Joe a new rule about filling the kids’ heads with fairy tales and empty promises.
Chapter Sixteen
After the last delivery of sold goods, Joe returned the trailer to the Stewart farm and headed back. He rubbed the knots in his neck. The sun had finally set on what felt like the longest day since he’d arrived at Juniper Ranch.
Everyone had worked hard at the fundraiser sale. The kids had done an amazing job working the tables and dishing up food while Sue manned the silent auction and kept everything running. With the turnout of buyers and the amount of stuff flying out of that grange hall, maybe they’d brought in enough to make the payment on the property.
And maybe his prayers had been answered.
He parked in the staff lot and trudged up to the main house. As he crossed the porch, he saw lights on in the office. He went to the office door, knocked, and let himself in.
Bertie nodded at him from where she stood near Sue, who sat at her desk looking exhausted.
“Seems like it went well.”
“Yeah, it went okay.” Bertie shrugged.
Sue was bent forward, massaging her temples. Her braid was coming loose. She kept trying to brush a lock out of her face. With an exasperated sigh, she tugged off the band and combed fingers through her hair. Her cheeks glowed with a rosy tint from a long day’s work. She looked tired and dusty.
And beautiful.
Joe cleared his throat. “So, how’d we do?”
Sue leaned back in her chair. “The kids were amazing. I’m really proud of them. And all of you. I know how hard you’ve worked.” She looked up at him. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Joe.”
His heart did a drum solo, right on cue.
Her voice waned. “But we didn’t get enough.” Sue fiddled with a pen on her desk, clicking it over and over.
Bertie excused herself and padded out of the room.
Sue met Joe’s gaze, her brow etched with more than just fatigue. Worry had seeped in.
Do something, Paterson. Fix this. “What’s next?”
; Tucking the curtain of blonde behind one ear, Sue turned her attention to a page of figures on her desk. “When I go to town for therapy on Monday, I’ll go to the bank and make what payment I can.” She sighed. “And I’ll ask again for an extension.”
“Do you think they’ll give it to you?”
“I don’t know. The problem is we still have a huge shortfall in our monthly income. I’ve gotten too many default notices already. So even if I can somehow scrape up the full amount past due, I can’t default again or the property automatically goes into foreclosure. I need more income. Like a donor who’s willing to start major monthly support immediately.” Sue closed her eyes and squeezed the back of her neck.
An overwhelming urge to rub her neck and shoulders tugged at him. He stuffed fists into his folded arms. “Are there any expenses you could cut?”
Sue opened one eye at him, then closed it again. “If I let the temps go, I’d be down to four staffers—three care staff and you—and that’s nowhere near the correct adult-to-child ratios. I can’t operate like that. And I can’t keep running the staff into the ground.”
“I could help with the payment.”
She turned wide eyes on him. “I appreciate the offer, really, but I can’t take your money, Joe. I’d still have a month-to-month income problem, and one more missed payment will send us right to auction. Then your well-intended help would be down the drain, no use to you or me. Besides, you have that family to take care of now.” She straightened, as if grateful to have something else to talk about besides money. “What’s going on with them?”
“I found them another place in Bend. I’m going to move them next weekend, if that’s okay with you.” He eased himself onto a seat across from her.
Her face softened. “I’m glad you can help them. But I suspect the reason you can do that is because you’ll have a high-paying, steady income coming in soon. All the more reason I won’t let you give this ranch a dime. Not only are you using up your savings on that family, but you get very little income from working here. In fact, I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep you on after the end of November.”
Joe shrugged. “I still need a place to stay until I leave.” He looked into her eyes. “I’d be willing to work in exchange for room and board. You’d actually be helping me. And if it helps you buy another month, that’s thirty more days to come up with some more income.”
“You’d work here for just room and board?”
Before she could fire off the why he saw in her eyes, Bertie came in and offered a plate of food to Joe, then one to Sue.
Sue waved it away. “Thanks, Bert, but I can’t. Maybe later.”
A pang hit Joe’s gut. She wasn’t eating. In fact, Joe hadn’t seen her eat anything all day. With a sigh, Joe set his plate down. “From now until Christmas, I work for food. Deal?” He smiled.
Her gaze lingered on his smile for a half-dozen heartbeats, then she turned away. “I’ll think about it. I can’t even promise we’ll be here for Christmas.”
“Well, let’s just take things one day at a time.” Joe lowered his voice. “Anything else I can do?”
Sue stared out the window toward the shop for a long time, then let out a tired sigh. “Yeah. You can find a buyer for my Harley.” Defeat settled on her slumped shoulders.
It tore him up to see her looking so beat.
“Good night, Joe,” she said quietly. “And thanks again for all your help.”
“No problem.” Joe let himself out. If only I could help.
* * *
After a few adjustments, the Harley grumbled like an old, fat tomcat. Joe left it running in the driveway as he finished buffing out the chrome, making the most of late November’s fleeting afternoon sun. As he applied leather conditioner to the seat, something moved on the porch.
Bertie. And she was headed straight for him.
Joe killed the bike’s motor and stepped into her line of sight to block her view. Hopefully, her business was with him and not in the shop. It was better if she didn’t see what he had stashed in there. The less anyone knew about it, the easier to keep it a surprise. “Hey.”
“Whatcha doing with the Harley?”
“Just tightening it down, cleaning it up. Sue wants to sell it.”
“I know, and it’s a shame.” Bertie shook her head at the bike. “Gonna break her heart. But if it’ll help her keep the place, she’ll let it go in a heartbeat.” She peered beyond him toward the shop doorway.
Joe moved to his right. He should’ve closed that door. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I came to give you a heads-up. I don’t know if you heard what went down in the kitchen a little while ago, but things are about to get real—hey, what’s that?” Craning her neck, Bertie shuffled around him and went into the shop.
Shoot. Joe winced. The old bird didn’t miss a thing.
“Hey—isn’t that Sue’s old Honda, the one she wrecked?” Bertie’s hunched frame forced her to turn her entire torso in order to look at him. “Where’d that come from?”
“I found it yesterday.” He nodded in the direction of the ridge. “In the ravine.”
Bertie cocked her head and peered at him like he’d just recited the Girl Scout pledge in Swedish. “You found it? What—you went out for a Sunday stroll down a steep canyon and just came across it lying there?”
“Something like that.” He gathered the cleaning rags and put them away.
“How on earth did you get it back here?”
“Wasn’t that hard. It’s pretty banged up, but it rolls. Getting it up and over the ridge was the hardest part. Then it was downhill to the road. I loaded it in my truck from there and hauled it up here.”
“Wow. You gonna fix it?”
“I’m going to try.” He sorted through the metric tools, looking for a wrench.
Bertie chuckled, shaking her head. “Man, oh man, she’s gonna flip out when she gets home. Can’t wait to see the look on her face.”
Joe stopped what he was doing and turned to her. “Actually, I was hoping to surprise her. I’d like to keep it a secret for now.”
Bertie put up flat palms in compliance. “Hey, don’t worry about me.” She gave the bike a long, thoughtful look, then turned to Joe and peered up at him through her little, round hippie glasses. “I’ll keep your secret, Joe. And if you want,” she said, lowering her voice to conspiratory tones, “I’ll keep your secret about the bike too.”
He snapped a piercing look at her.
A slow, knowing smile spread over her face.
Aw, man. He grabbed the first wrench his fingers touched without checking the size and strode to the battered Honda, numbed by the reality that someone else had noticed something he barely acknowledged to himself. “Is it that obvious?”
Bertie chuckled. “Well, now it is.”
A vehicle approached.
Joe stepped outside.
Sue’s white Suburban climbed the long drive, pulling a thin train of dust behind it.
He spun toward the shop.
Bertie was already tugging on the big bay door, trying to close it.
“I’ll get that.” He shut the door just as Sue’s car rounded the curve.
Bertie whistled through her teeth. “Sue’s gonna blow a gasket when she hears the news.”
“What news?” Joe said. “What’s going on?”
Sue climbed out and came toward Joe and Bertie, her limp more pronounced, the way it always was after therapy.
Jasmine flew down the porch steps and met Sue with a stack of mail. “One mail for Papa Joe.” The girl handed him a long envelope. Ringo, Jasmine’s new shadow, circled the girl’s feet with his happy, dumb-dog grin.
Joe glanced at the letter and pocketed it. More junk, as usual. “How’d it go at the bank?”
“Fabulous. They very kindly took my hefty payment and said they’d like another one just like it next week. And another the next week, and the week after that.”
Ringo bumped Sue’s hand with h
is snout.
She gave the dog’s head a scratch and frowned at Bertie and Joe. “Come on, it’s hard enough without you guys looking like someone died.”
Bertie darted a glance at Joe. “Um, boss, actually, I know the timing stinks, but I have some bad news. Elena’s mom is dying.”
“Oh no! Is Elena okay?”
Bertie shook her head. “She’s gone.”
“Gone?” Sue’s eyes widened. “She’s gone?”
“Yeah.”
“To Mexico?”
Bertie nodded. “She got the call, then packed up and left. One of the farmers came and took her to the bus station in La Pine.”
Shaking her head slowly, Sue stared across the valley.
Father, she’s worked too hard and cares too much about these kids to see it fall apart. “Can I help?”
She didn’t answer, didn’t seem to hear. Her gaze fell on the Harley in the driveway. She turned to Joe, eyes flickering with something he’d never seen, something wild. “Sure, why not.” She stuffed the stack of mail into his hand. “Looks like you’re the new boys’ dorm counselor.”
“Uh, okay, but …”
Sue mounted the Harley, fired it up, and gave it a couple window-rattling revs.
Jasmine patted her thighs, beckoning Ringo to her, then knelt down and hugged him tight. The dog licked her ear, but she seemed more interested in keeping a firm grip on him.
“Boss?” Bertie leaned in front of Sue to get her attention above the noise.
Ringo wiggled free from Jasmine’s grasp, leaped, and plastered himself to the top of the bike’s gas tank.
Sue turned to Bertie and shouted above the rumble. “Don’t worry, Bert. I’ll be back.” She gave the throttle a couple more throaty revs. “I have to come back, right? The captain always goes down with the ship.”
“But—”
The bike sped off around the curve, headed down the sloped drive, and disappeared from sight beyond the brushy knoll.
A moment later, the engine paused—probably when it reached the end of the drive. Then the bike hammered down the highway, the bursts of rising throttle and shift breaks carrying easily through the stillness. The growl of accelerating motorcycle echoed across the valley floor.
