Sisters of Spirit, Pure Romance Set

by Nancy Radke

“Yes, barely. At least he was when I came to call.”

  Adam pried the receiver out of Jo’s stiff fingers. “I’m bringing Jo right now, Karen. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  “It’s all our fault.” Karen wailed, loud enough Jo could hear. The chill that had begun at Karen’s first words now froze Jo’s mind as well as her body.

  “We’re coming,” Adam replied, and hung up. “Heart attack. Gramps,” he explained, as he grabbed Jo’s things.

  “The car ‘ll be fastest,” Adam shouted as they ran out into the rain, and Jo swerved to get into it, both of them drenched before they climbed inside.

  “Buckle up, dearest. I’ll go as fast as I dare,” Adam said, starting the motor.

  Jo moved mechanically to obey him, her mind in the grip of shock. She was barely aware of the worried glances Adam gave her and took little notice of their headlong yet skillful flight down the mountain road into the dark of the storm.

  Guilt lay heavily on her, locking her into a churning maelstrom of self-accusation that gained in intensity as they drove. Over and over the thoughts passed through her anguished mind as she stared through the rain-swept windshield: I did it. If he dies, I killed him.

  I knew his heart was weak. I was up there in Adam’s arms, while he was dying. Why? Why didn’t we take longer so as not to shock him?

  Her mind churned round and round, blaming herself and Adam. As they reached the street leading to the hospital, she spoke. “We went too fast.”

  Adam lifted his foot off the accelerator, then pressed it down again as her meaning reached him. “I don’t know, Jo. I don’t see how—”

  “His heart was weak. We both knew it.” she cried in anguish and self-condemnation.

  “True, but we hadn’t done anything in public except sit together. Unless he saw us on the catwalk.”

  “We should have taken more time. Why did you rush us, Adam?” Tears of helplessness began to flow unchecked down her cheeks.

  “Dearest, we—”

  “Don’t call me that. I trusted you. You said...you were going to set a slow pace—” she sobbed, unthinkingly shifting the unbearable guilt to him.

  “Jo, we did...in public, at least—”

  “On the balcony. He saw us. I know he did.”

  “We’re almost there, dear.” His voice stayed level as he tried to soothe her. “Mike and your Dad have both had CPR training...just in case. They had to be prepared, so far away from a doctor. Have hope, Jo. He could be all right. Don’t imagine the worst—”

  “A lot you care.” He was so calm. Of course, it didn’t bother him. He’d wanted revenge and got it. “He’s not your grampa.”

  “Jo, believe me, I—”

  “I trusted you. I didn’t want Gramps hurt—” she accused unreasonably, nearing hysteria. Her legs were locked tightly together at the ankles and her hands continued to wring against each other in mindless distress.

  “I didn’t want that either. I didn’t plan—”

  “You planned all right. To take me away from Gramps. Didn’t you? Well, didn’t you?”

  Adam stopped the car at the entrance, hands clenched white on the wheel. “You’d believe it whether I deny it or not. So, yes. I planned it. I wanted to take away something of his. At first, that’s all I wanted. But it isn’t anymore. I want you, Jo, but not for that reason.”

  She refused to listen. “He said you were using me to get at him. Well, I believe him.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying, love. I’ll let you out here, park and go up with you.”

  “No.” She fumbled vainly with the unfamiliar seat belt, her voice rising in hysterical anguish. “No. Stay away.”

  “Jo, you don’t—” He pulled her hands away to unbuckle the belt.

  “Stay away from me...and from my family, Adam Trahern,” she cried, sobbing out the words. Wrenching away from his restraining hands, she hurtled herself out of the car. “You’ve caused enough trouble. You’ve helped me kill my grampa—”

  “You don’t know—”

  “I don’t want you to kill any more of us.”

  His face went deathly white. “You can’t mean that.”

  “I don’t ever want to see you again. I hate you!”

  “Jo!”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I hate you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Mike, Karen, and Jo’s father sat avoiding each other’s eyes with the unnatural quiet of people waiting for news of a loved one. They stood up as Jo arrived, and she threw herself sobbing into her father’s arms.

  “He’s alive, Jo,” he assured her, patting her awkwardly on the back. “He’s doing better than the doctors expected at first. One came out a few minutes ago, saying they think he’s escaped complications.”

  “Oh, Dad.” The tears poured out, harder, partly in relief, but mostly as reaction to her last few minutes with Adam.

  “What’s wrong?” He frowned at her, puzzled. “They’re going to let us see him in a few minutes. Then you’ll know for yourself.”

  Mike stood looking past her towards the door. “Where’s Adam?”

  “He’s not coming. I didn’t want him here.”

  “That’s probably best,” her father said.

  “I don’t agree,” Mike replied, hands on hips. “Adam needs to be here.”

  “I told him to go away,” Jo emphasized, choking on her tears.

  Mike frowned. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t let him come. He could have stayed out of Grampa’s sight. What difference—”

  Bitterly, Jo cut him short. “For good, Mike. Forever. I told him I hated him—”

  He looked incredulous. “Jo, you didn’t!” He spun away in disgust. “Now we’re back to square one. Why on earth—?”

  “We almost killed Gramps, he and I.”

  “No, you didn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Someone phoned him about Adam and Jo,” her father countered, as Karen nodded. “He asked me about them, then collapsed. I assume it was someone from church.”

  “It was all Adam’s fault,” Jo declared. “I told him he’d have to court me slowly, not rush things. On account of Gramps.”

  Mike threw up his hands. “What could be slower? Most men start by taking a girl on a date.” He shook his head. “I bet you didn’t even thank him for bringing you here.”

  “No.” She’d been too intent on blaming him. “I was too upset.”

  “Adam was probably feeling as badly about Gramps as you were, and blaming himself also.”

  Jo hadn’t considered Adam’s feelings, only her own. “Even if he was—”

  “You treated him badly, Jo. By sending him away, you made it harder on him than on anyone.”

  “Now, Mike, don’t be too rough on her,” their father interrupted. “I don’t know if I want Adam here, right now.”

  “Sure you do. It would help if he was here. Help us all. This is exactly what Gramps did after Grandma died. He wouldn’t let anyone comfort him. And he cut off the Traherns, so they had to bear the terrible guilt alone.”

  Jo felt herself crumple as she realized how badly she had acted. “And I did it to Adam again.”

  “Maybe,” her father said, only half convinced.

  “Adam’s family was devastated by Grandma’s death,” Mike asserted, biting his words off sharply. “I know. I was there. I went to see them, Dad. It would have helped if you had, too. You and Mom and Gramps. And Jo.”

  “I didn’t think of it that way, Mike,” her father stated. “But Adam still needs to realize what he’s done. All of you. We were lucky this time. We might not be so lucky again.”

  A new wave of remorse hit Jo. She felt as sterile as the hospital rooms. Why was life so unfair, to force her to choose between the people she loved? If she followed her heart and chose Adam, and then Gramps died, she’d never live with herself. She had to support her grandfather. Even if it meant giving up the only man she’d ever love.

  But oh, what a loss.

&nbs
p; Shaking with anger and disappointment, his world collapsed, Adam watched Jo run inside the hospital. He started to drive away, but pulled into the parking lot instead. He had to know if Gramps was still alive or not.

  He sat there, trembling, then finally broke down into tears. His final shot for happiness and he’d blown it. He wanted to go slow. He hadn’t planned for his emotions to skyrocket like they had.

  He’d expected resistance from Jo. He figured he’d have to overcome a lifetime of dislike. Instead she had met him more than halfway.

  Her grandfather must have seen them together on his porch. It must have been a huge shock to the old man.

  Jo thought he’d done it deliberately. He hadn’t, but it showed she didn’t trust him at all.

  He couldn’t live here any longer. Even if she moved away, her presence would haunt these mountain trails, as it had when she went to Virginia. He couldn’t take it. He’d turn the ranch over to Johnny and move somewhere else. He was still young. He could find another place. Find another girl.

  Grief threatened to overcome him. He’d hoped for Jo’s love for so many years, waiting for her. It was the wrong thing to do. He could see that now. It didn’t pay to put your life in someone else’s hands.

  He couldn’t stop the tears. They poured down his face like the rain outside his car, hurtling down in great buckets of water. The ground was thirsty and would welcome it, he knew, his rancher-self glad to see it even as he mourned.

  Unable to wait any longer, he called the hospital. They put him through to the waiting room. Mike answered. Jo refused to talk to him, but Mike told him that Gramps was alive. That he had given him first aid while Frank drove to the hospital.

  Adam started the car and drove, aimlessly, through the streets and finally along the mountain roads. At least he and Jo hadn’t killed him.

  Not dead. Would there be a chance? Did he want there to be? If he and Jo got together again, and then Gramps demanded something and she chose the old man over him again, then what? What kind of life could they have together?

  He looked around, saw where he was, and pointed his car along the road where the ranchers had lost so many cattle. As long as he was driving, he might as well drive there.

  He slowed down as he came up to a vehicle parked beside the road. Next to a mountain gate. He looked around, didn’t see anyone.

  A small truck with a shell on it. He took his foot off the gas and stopped.

  He got out. He could see, in his headlights, prints of cattle and people around the back of the truck. He turned off his lights, jumped into his car and drove down the road, around a corner and parked.

  His cell phone had a signal here. He called the sheriff and left a message, describing the truck and the location.

  “I’m sure. These are the ones. I’m going back there, so hurry.”

  He hung up before the dispatcher could answer.

  He didn’t carry his rifle in his car. Throwing open his trunk, he found a rope and a tire iron.

  He coiled the rope. It was one he used to rope cattle with. He’d thrown it in here for some reason.

  He eased the trunk lid gently down to avoid making a noise. Carefully he walked down the road, back to the truck, getting his rope ready. A calf was bawling and fighting the two men trying to shove it into the back. He put the bulk of the truck between him and the men. He could hear their struggles.

  Quick to move, he came around the side and caught the man with his back to him a sharp blow on the head and shoulders with the tire iron. The man dropped, and Adam hoped he hadn’t killed him.

  The other man raised his head and looked directly at Adam.

  Peter Johnson! The crook dropped the calf and started to run down the road.

  It was too easy. Adam already had his loop built. He dropped the tire iron as he stepped free of the truck, swung the rope and made a foot catch, throwing Peter into the mud on the side of the road.

  He checked the other man, whom he didn’t know. He wasn’t carrying a weapon. It was hard to wrestle steers and not shoot yourself. He spotted the rifle propped up against the front fender, and moved it into the brush.

  He walked the few yards to where Peter was trying frantically to undo himself. Peter stopped when Adam got near, and glared at him.

  “You,” Peter said.

  “Yes,” said Adam. “I guess I should have run you out of the country the other night. Get up.”

  He had Peter remove the rope, then marched him over to his friend, who was still unconscious. He could hear the calves bawling in the truck.

  “Did you know that these are your grandfather’s calves?” he asked, taking the rope and tying Peter with it.

  Peter looked sullen. “Doesn’t matter.”

  Peter’s friend moaned, regaining consciousness. Adam used the other end of the long rope to tie him.

  “Any more of you?” Adam asked, swinging the tire iron so that they watched it in fear.

  “No.”

  “Who you been selling these to?”

  “A cattle dealer in Pendleton. He doesn’t ask where we get them.”

  By the time Sheriff Allerton arrived, Adam had the dealer’s name and address and the name of Peter’s friend.

  The sheriff’s deputy took pictures of the truck, the cattle in the truck, the two men, and the general area. Peter’s grandfather, Marvin, had padlocked the gate, but Peter had simply cut the wires, so the deputy took pictures of the gate and the wire cutters. And the rifle.

  Inside the truck they found bolt cutters, ropes, and bills of sale from the buyer in Pendleton.

  “Let’s hope the judge can get some of the money back,” Allerton said as the deputy kept taking pictures. “Now that we’ve got all this evidence, we can put these calves back into their pasture. Imagine, stealing from your own grandfather. Marv said he wanted the kid to inherit the place. Doesn’t look like the punk wanted to wait.”

  Adam helped the sheriff put the animals back, then walked to his car and got some gloves and fencing supplies, which he never went anywhere without. He was able to jury-rig the gate enough so it would hold until Marv sent a man up to fix it properly.

  By the time they were done, it was well past three. The sky was getting lighter. Adam drove home, emotionally drained, and went to bed. Johnny couldn’t raise him, so did the morning chores himself.

  When Adam finally got up, he asked if there had been a call from the hospital, or any of Jo’s family.

  None. It was the same old pattern repeating itself. He told them about catching the thieves and who it had turned out to be, but no one could really relax as long as they hadn’t heard from the Davies family.

  Finally Mike called and brought them up to date. Then Karen called Johnny. Frank called on the fifth day, when they brought the old man home. But not Jo.

  In the five days before her grandfather was allowed home, Jo helped with the chores, trying to immerse herself in the hard work. Every evening she rode Paca aimlessly in the lower pastures, avoiding the timber country and the off chance she might run into Adam. Each night she cried until there were no more tears left, and then fell into a troubled sleep.

  Adam had become so much a part of her that Jo’s life shattered into a void, leaving her aching with emptiness, as if standing motionless, staring off into space. Having spurned him, the bright promise of future spun out of her reach, disappearing into the black clouds.

  He had telephoned the hospital the first night and Mike gave him the report on Gramps. Jo refused to speak to him—burdened with the finality of her words.

  Without conscious decision, she fell back into her old defense of not saying anything. Lost in the turmoil of her thoughts, she rejected all comfort or advice. Guilt and loss combined to form a load too heavy to bear, and her mind refused to consider anything but its task of reviewing things said or not said during that long drive to the hospital.

  She closed the heavy curtains in her room, the final cutting off of all contact with Adam.

  She a
nd Karen tried to put on a cheerful face when they were around their grandfather, but on his fourth night home, when Karen fled from him, crying, he rounded on Jo, spinning his wheelchair on the porch to bring himself closer.

  “What is this, Joanna? Are the doctors not telling me something? Am I going to die?” He plucked at the blanket across his legs.

  Jo tore her fixed gaze back from where it had strayed to the lights in Adam’s room. Was he watching them, even now? “No. No, Gramps. You’re fine. Everything’s fine,” she added, scooting her chair around so she no longer faced Adam’s home.

  “You sure? I can understand you having a rough time, but what’s wrong with Karen?”

  “She’ll be okay, Gramps,” she hastened to assure him, wondering if it would ever be true. His heart attack had devastated Karen, and with the failure of her plan, all her hopes had vanished.

  Jo’s grandfather scowled at her. “How about you? Are you going to press charges?”

  The word came so unexpectedly, Jo wondered if she’d heard right. “Charges?”

  “Yes. Against Adam.”

  She shut her eyes, then opened them to look, puzzled, at her grandfather. Was there something here she wasn’t getting? “Why?”

  Her grandfather slapped his hand on the arm rest, in agitation. “I thought you’d want to, after what he did to you.”

  “To me?” She paused, more puzzled than ever. “Don’t you mean, did to you?”

  “No. You’re the one that Adam, that Adam....”

  “What?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Her grandfather bit his lip, eyes silently assessing her before he continued. “Raped.”

  “Raped? Who told you that?” Jo’s voice rose in anger and disbelief. “Adam never raped me.”

  Her grandfather’s face whitened. “He didn’t. But...I heard— and then Frank said—” He raised a shaking hand to rub across his brow. “Your face was bruised.”

  “Who told you such a vicious lie?” Jo demanded, trembling in rage.

  “Marv Johnson. He called me—”

  “Mr. Johnson?” This was unreal. “When? Why?”

  “Sunday morning. Peter went home, looking terrible. Marv said his face was all smashed up. Peter claimed you and he had stopped along the road to talk, when Adam drove up, drunk, and forced you out of the car. He said you were fighting and Adam turned ugly and ripped your clothes.”