THE RANCHER'S SPITTIN' IMAGE

by Peggy Moreland

  "Easy, boy," he murmured as he took a step toward the horse. Judas turned his head to watch him, his eyes rolling wildly. "Easy now," Jesse continued to soothe as he held out a hand. The stallion jerked his head back and tried to rear. Again Jesse planted his feet, dropping the whip to take the line in both hands. But he was powerless against the animal's strength.

  The horse reared again, this time succeeding, and had Jesse hurtling through the air. Jesse landed on his knees just as Judas spun, kicking out with his rear legs. The stallion landed a blow to the side of Jesse's head and one to his back, knocking the breath from him, before galloping to the far side of the arena.

  "Jesse!"

  Jesse heard Jaime's cry of fear just before the darkness took him.

  "Is he gonna be okay?"

  Jesse heard the uncertainty in Jaime's whispered question but couldn't find the strength to reassure his son. Flat on his back, his eyes closed against the pain, he struggled just to breathe.

  Fingertips, soft and soothing, fluttered at his brow.

  Mandy's?

  "He's going to be just fine. You'll see."

  Yes, the voice told him that it was Mandy caring for him. But below the reassuring tone, Jesse heard her own doubts and he knew he had to put both their fears to rest. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't open his eyes, much less form the words necessary to reassure them.

  "Go to the house and get me the ice pack from the freezer." Jaime must have hesitated, because Mandy added more firmly, "Now, Jaime. We need the ice for this lump on his head."

  Jesse heard a door open and close softly, then silence. The fingertips returned, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

  "Jesse?" she whispered. "Jesse? Can you hear me?"

  He tried to open his eyes, but the glare of sunlight streaming from the window over his head made him slam them shut again … but not before he caught a glimpse of where he was. The trainer's room. On the narrow cot that he had shared with Mandy the night before.

  On a groan, he lifted a weak hand, meaning to brush her hand away, but found himself catching her fingers in his and clinging weakly. "Yeah," he croaked. "I hear you."

  "Do you remember what happened?"

  Jesse frowned, then winced when the pounding kicked up its tempo in his head at the movement. He remembered Judas rearing, then falling. And he remembered the blinding pain when Judas's hoof had connected with his head. But after that, everything was a little fuzzy.

  "Most of it," he replied and felt her sigh of relief against his cheek. "How'd I get in here?"

  "Gabe and some of the hands slipped a board under you and carried you here." She squeezed her fingers around his hand. "Can you move?" she asked.

  He tried to lift his head and winced when the room began to spin. He dropped his head back to the cot with a low moan. "I don't think so. Not yet, anyway."

  "Does it feel as if anything is broken?"

  He frowned, concentrating hard on the pain. "No. I don't think so."

  "There's a good-size lump on your head and a superficial scrape at your temple. What else hurts?"

  "My back."

  "Do you think you can roll over far enough for me to see?"

  She was being so kind, so gentle, and Jesse couldn't help but wonder why, considering how he'd treated her the night before. He opened his eyes, squinting to meet her gaze. The worry he saw in her eyes sent a fresh wave of shame washing through him. How could she be so kind, when he had been so cruel? Uncomfortable with looking at her, he released her hand to clasp the side of the cot, easing himself onto his side. With care, Mandy pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and tried to lift the hem. "We're going to have to take this off," she murmured.

  Jesse moved his hand to the row of pearlized snaps that lined the front of his shirt and gave a tug. They popped open and Mandy gingerly eased the sleeve down his arm and laid open his shirt, exposing his back.

  She sucked in a startled breath at the sight that greeted her. "Oh, Jesse!" she cried, touching a tentative finger to the small of his back where the perfect impression of Judas's hoof lay. Blood was already clotted on the horseshoe-shaped wound.

  "Is it bad?"

  Mandy swallowed hard. "I'm not sure. I'll need to clean it first." She quickly turned, picking up a bottle of peroxide from the supplies she'd laid out on the table beside the bed, then tipped it over his back, letting the liquid flush the wound.

  Jesse flinched, sucking in air through his teeth.

  "I'm sorry," she murmured as she dabbed with a square of gauze. "Does it sting?"

  "No," he managed to get out. "It's cold."

  Mandy bit back a smile. "Cold won't hurt you."

  "I think I'm the best judge of that," he muttered dryly.

  As the blood and dirt disappeared, Mandy saw that the cut wasn't deep, but was already swelling and turning blue. A good sign, she hoped. "We need to get you to the hospital."

  Jesse tested the bump on his head with a tentative hand, unsure if the drums that continued to beat there were a result of the fifth of whiskey he'd consumed the night before or of Judas's well-aimed kick. "No hospital," he decided. "It's just a graze."

  "Jesse—" Mandy began.

  "No. I don't want some sawbones poking at me."

  Mandy let out a frustrated breath. "You're being stubborn. You need to see a doctor."

  "I know when a doctor's required. Pete can take care of me once I get home." He started to roll to his back again, but Mandy thrust a hand against his spine, stopping him.

  "At least let me put a bandage on the wound to keep it clean."

  Though Jesse wanted off the bed and out of the trainer's room, he decided the fastest way to accomplish that might be to let her do what she wanted. "Okay, but make it fast."

  Frowning, Mandy pulled a fresh square of gauze from the box. After liberally dosing the wound with antibiotic, she placed the gauze over it, then taped the bandage into place. As she started to turn away, she caught a glimpse of another scrape and turned back. Leaning closer, she touched a finger to first one red welt, then another. "Jesse! You've got splinters all over your back."

  He tensed, remembering the barn's rough wall that had cut into his back when he'd been working on drowning his troubles with whiskey. "It's nothing," he said, as her fingers trailed over his back. "Pete'll pull 'em out."

  But her fingers continued to move across his back, and Jesse closed his eyes against the feel of them, trying his best to shut out memories of those same hands roaming and caressing his back the night before.

  Unable to do so, he tried to sit up, but Mandy pushed him right back down.

  "Pete is bound to be pushing sixty and probably blind as a bat," she argued. "He'd never be able to see these splinters to remove them. I have some tweezers right here. It won't take me a minute to pull them out for you."

  Smothering a groan against the biceps that supported his cheek, Jesse closed his eyes again, knowing it was useless to argue. But the feel of her fingers on his back was as unsettling as being in the trainer's room with her, lying on the bed where they'd made love. He wanted out in the worst sort of way.

  The door squeaked open behind him.

  "Hey, you're awake!"

  Jaime's face appeared in front of Jesse's. Jesse managed a lopsided smile. "Yeah, I'm awake."

  Jaime lifted his gaze to his mother's face. "What're you doin'?"

  Her lips firmed in concentration, Mandy murmured, "I'm pulling splinters out of his back."

  "Splinters?" Jaime dropped his gaze to Jesse's, his eyebrows knitted together. "How'd you get splinters in your back?"

  Jesse felt his cheeks warm. "I—uh—"

  Mandy leaned over him, saving him from having to answer, and took the ice pack from Jaime's hands. The feel of her abdomen pressed against his spine left a square of heat that did everything but shut down Jesse's breathing entirely.

  She laid the pack against the lump on his head. "Jaime," she instructed, "put your hand right here and hold thi
s in place."

  Jaime did so, grinning at Jesse. "She's pretty bossy, isn't she?" he whispered.

  Jesse craned his head to look over his shoulder and frown at Mandy. "Yeah, she is." Then yelped when Mandy tugged out another splinter.

  "Oh, for goodness' sake!" she exclaimed. "That couldn't have hurt that badly." She dipped her head closer, frowning, and tested another splinter with a fingernail. "How did you manage to get splinters in your back?"

  Jesse heaved a frustrated breath, then decided the best way to avoid answering the question might be to put the heat on Mandy. "Well, you see, I left my shirt in—"

  Immediately, Mandy jackknifed upright. "It isn't important," she interrupted, and grabbed for the bottle of peroxide. She splashed some across the scraped skin where splinters had once been embedded, hoping to shush him. She didn't want her son to hear that Jesse had left his shirt in the trainer's room for her to wear.

  Jesse sucked in a shocked breath as the cold liquid hit his back. "Damn it! You might've warned me first," he yelled crossly. He caught the gleam of a wicked smile on his son's face and released the breath on a sigh. "Sorry. Didn't mean to cuss in front of you."

  "Oh, that's all right," Jaime assured him. "Mama's let loose with a few that would burn your ears."

  Mandy reared back, looking at her son in dismay. "Jaime McCloud! I have not."

  Jaime pushed his hands to his knees and stood. "Yeah, you have." He grinned a mischievous grin at her across the width of the bed. "You just didn't know I was in hearing distance."

  Her cheeks flaming, Mandy started gathering up supplies. "I've removed all the splinters I can see. You can go now, Jesse."

  Relieved to be free at last, Jesse rolled to his back and then into a sitting position on the side of the bed, all in one smooth move. Nausea churned in his stomach and rose to burn his throat while the room spun crazily around him. Groaning, he dipped his head between his knees, grabbing his head with his hands to keep it from falling off.

  Mandy was on her knees in front of him, her hand on his shoulder, before he drew the first ragged breath. "What's wrong?"

  "It's nothing … really. I must have just moved too fast."

  She stood, but kept her hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling all the way to the floor. "You've probably got a concussion. Jaime," she ordered firmly, "go and find Gabe and tell him to come and help us move Jesse to the house."

  Jesse jerked up his head to tell her he wasn't going to her house, but back to the Circle Bar where he belonged, then quickly dropped it again when a fresh wave of nausea rose. "No," he gasped. "Just help me get to my truck. I can make it back to the Circle Bar."

  "And kill yourself in the process," Mandy muttered irritably. She waved her son away with an impatient hand. "Now hurry and find Gabe. We need to get Jesse into bed."

  * * *

  Six

  « ^ »

  Jesse opened his eyes and blinked several times, trying to get a bead on his location. Shadows moved, dancing away from the moonlight that leaked through the window at his left. Squinting, he was able to make out a dressing table on one wall, a dresser on another … and a feminine, flowery scent that hung in the air just beneath his nose.

  What the hell?

  Then he remembered. Groaning, he closed his eyes again. He was at the Double-Cross. But not for long, he promised himself. He rolled to sit on the side of the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress with both hands until his head stopped spinning. Once he was sure he could do so without falling, he stood and reached for his jeans, which someone had thought to hook over the bottom post of the bed. Pulling them on, he caught sight of his boots propped on the floor in front of the dresser. Without bothering to zip his jeans, he strode across the room and stooped to hook two fingers in the top of them.

  And the dang room started spinning again.

  Bracing a hand against the glass-topped dresser to keep from falling over, he straightened a little and found himself face-to-face with a picture of Mandy. With the moonlight behind him, throwing a glare on the picture, Jesse couldn't make out the details of the image. Casting a cautious glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, he picked it up for a closer inspection.

  In the picture Mandy sat in a rocker with a baby settled against her breasts, a radiant smile lighting her face. The sight of the infant's cherubic face drove a stake, hot and searing, straight through Jesse's chest. He reeled, bumping his hip against the dresser to support himself as he clutched the frame in his hands.

  Jaime? He touched a finger to the infant's face. My son. Taking the picture, he staggered back to the bed and flipped on the lamp beside it before dropping down on the mattress.

  As he stared at the photo, tears burned his throat. He'd never thought of Jaime as an infant before. His only association with his son was with the twelve-year-old version of the boy he'd met on that first day by the lake on the Circle Bar. Tears blurred the infant's image as Jesse was confronted with all the years, all the growing he'd missed.

  "Jesse?"

  He snapped up his head at the sound of Mandy's voice to find her standing in the doorway, watching him, the collar of her robe clutched in one white-knuckled fist at her breasts.

  He lifted the frame, then let it drop to rest on his knee. "I didn't mean to pry. I was getting my boots and I saw the picture. I—" He shook his head, overcome with emotion.

  Mandy stepped into the room and crossed to him, uncertain what was going on.

  Jesse lifted his head to look at her. "I never knew him like this," he said, his voice thick with tears. "He was so tiny, so fragile-looking."

  Mandy sank down to the bed beside him, her heart breaking for Jesse. "Yes, he was. He only weighed seven pounds and six ounces when he was born." She eased the picture from Jesse's hands and lifted it, smiling as she remembered. "But he had the thickest head of black hair you've ever seen. And the bluest eyes."

  Jesse cocked his head to look at her. "Blue? But his eyes are green. Like yours."

  Mandy laughed softly. "Yes. Now they are. But when he was a baby, they were the color of a summer sky."

  Jesse took the picture from her and stared long and hard at it. "I missed so much."

  Mandy heard the regret in his voice, and the fissure in her heart widened a fraction more. She'd had Jaime from the moment of his birth, but Jesse hadn't had that precious gift. "I have albums and albums of pictures," she offered softly. "Would you like to see them?"

  Without lifting his gaze from the picture he still held, Jesse murmured, "Yes, I'd like that very much."

  Going to her closet, Mandy lifted down several albums from a shelf and returned to the bed. She set all the albums to the side but one, then opened it across her knees, smoothing her hand across the page. "These pictures were taken at the hospital where he was born."

  "Back east," Jesse said without thinking.

  Mandy looked at him in surprise. "How did you know that?"

  Jesse heaved a shuddery breath. "Pete told me. He said Lucas sent you away when he found out you were pregnant."

  Mandy dropped her chin to her chest, focusing on the page of pictures once again, but unable to see them through the tears that sprinted to her eyes. "Yes, he did. He sent me to my Aunt Mildred's in Raleigh."

  Jesse reached over and covered her hand with his. "I'm sorry, Mandy. I know how much that must have hurt—"

  She shook her head slowly. "It doesn't matter anymore." Sniffing back the tears, she pointed to a picture. "See that mop of hair? All the nurses in the hospital said Jaime was the most beautiful baby they'd ever seen."

  "Handsome," Jesse corrected. "Girls are beautiful. Boys are handsome."

  Mandy laughed softly. "No, Jaime was beautiful." She turned the page. "Here he is at Aunt Mildred's, suffering through his first bath."

  Jesse eased closer for a better look and his shoulder brushed Mandy's. Neither moved away from the contact. "His face is as red as a tomato."

  "He hated baths, even then." She
turned another page and then another, sharing Jaime's life with Jesse, if only through the medium of pictures. With each flip of a page, a bond slowly grew between them, tying them together, formed by the son they'd created. Closing the first book, she picked up another. "This was taken on his first day of kindergarten," she said, pointing. "Sam took the picture. I don't know who cried more."

  Jesse dipped his head over the book. "He doesn't look to me like he's crying. In fact, if he'd smiled much bigger, his face would have split wide open."

  Mandy laughed, pressing her shoulder against his in the easy way a friend would when sharing a private joke. "I didn't mean him. I meant Sam and me."

  Still smiling, Mandy turned another page while Jesse turned his gaze on her. "They've been an important part of his life, haven't they?"

  Mandy turned to look at him. "You mean Sam and Merideth?"

  Jesse nodded.

  "Very much so. I'm afraid between us, we've spoiled him rotten."

  Resentful of the wisp of hair that shadowed her face when she turned her gaze back to the album, Jesse lifted it and tucked it behind her ear, leaving his fingers to curve at the feminine shell. "He doesn't seem to have suffered any. He's a good kid. You've obviously done a good job raising him."

  Mandy felt her cheeks warm and wasn't sure whether it was Jesse's touch or his compliment that drew the heat to them. But she knew she couldn't look at him. Not now, when her emotions were so close to the surface. "Thank you. I've done my best."

  "At what price?"

  Mandy jerked her head around to stare at him. "What do you mean?"

  "Lucas couldn't have been happy about your having my son."

  Mandy dropped her chin, unable to meet the sympathy in Jesse's gaze. "No, he wasn't. But it didn't matter. Not to me. I wanted Jaime, and no one was going to take him away from me. Not even my father."

  "You mean he tried?"

  Mandy's shoulders sagged with the weight of the painful memories. "Not physically, though he did try to persuade me to have an abortion or at the least put Jaime up for adoption."