THE RANCHER'S SPITTIN' IMAGE

by Peggy Moreland

  "And?" Matthew prodded.

  "I want you to find out if that information is true. Can you make a few calls? Perhaps talk to the Secretary of State to check to see what letters of incorporation have been filed and who the directors are?"

  "Of course, Margo. Anything for you."

  A satisfied smile curved at Margo's lips. "Thank you, Matthew. I knew I could count on you."

  Jesse barreled into the bunkhouse, grabbed his duffle bag and dumped its contents onto his cot.

  Pete glanced up from his easy chair where he was reading the paper. "Goin' somewhere?" he asked dryly.

  Jesse stuffed a pair of jeans and a clean shirt back into the bag. "Yeah. I'm taking Jaime and Mandy on a camp-out." He turned, scraping his shaving gear and comb from the shelf above the sink, and added it to the bag.

  Pete rested the paper on his knees. "A campin' trip, huh? Sounds like the three of you are gettin' purdy cozy."

  A smile spread across Jesse's face as he cocked his head to look at his old friend. "Yeah, you could say that."

  Pete nodded his approval, then frowned. "Margo came lookin' for you this mornin'. Wanted to know if you'd come in last night."

  Jesse paused, a rolled pair of socks in his hand. "What did you tell her?"

  Pete snorted and picked up his paper again, giving it a snap before disappearing behind its pages. "That I sleep like the dead and wouldn't know if a herd of buffalo had stampeded by my bed."

  Jesse chuckled and gave Pete's boot a kick with his own. "Well, at least you didn't have to lie. You do sleep like the dead."

  Pete grunted. "That's what you think." He lowered the paper and grinned slyly at Jesse over its top. "Where did you sleep last night, anyways?"

  Embarrassed, Jesse looked away, though he had to hide a smile of his own. He stuffed the socks into the duffle bag and zipped it closed. "Let's just say I didn't sleep alone."

  Pete's grin quickly turned into a frown again as he leaned forward to squint at Jesse. "What happened to your head?"

  Jesse lifted a hand to touch at the scrape on his temple. With all that had happened in between, he'd totally forgotten about his run-in with Judas. "Had a fight with a stallion."

  "And you lost?"

  Jesse's smile was easy and quick … and just a touch sheepish. "The first round. But the battle's not over yet."

  "Did you get throwed?"

  "No. Kicked."

  "Kicked!" Pete sat up straighter, his eyebrows shooting up. "I thought I learned you better than that. 'Always stay clear of a horse's hind end.' Ain't that what I taught you?"

  "Yes, sir, you did. But he jerked me down and turned on me before I had a chance to get out of the way."

  Pete gave his paper another snap and lifted it in front of his face again. "I guess I'll have to go over there and bust that horse out myself 'fore you get yourself killed."

  Jesse hooked the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder as a wad of emotion rose to his throat. Pete might be gruff, but Jesse knew that what the old man was saying was that he cared. And there were few people in Jesse's life who had ever cared about him. Pete. His mother. Mandy.

  On the way to the door, he stopped and put a hand on Pete's arm. "Thanks, Pete."

  Pete's Adam's apple bobbed and he quickly shucked off Jesse's hand. "Get on out of here," he grumped, "'fore I decide to tell Margo your plans."

  * * *

  Seven

  « ^ »

  Thirty minutes later, whistling happily, Jesse snagged his duffle bag from the back of his truck and headed for the barn where he was to meet Mandy and Jaime for their camping trip. About halfway there, he stopped, his attention caught by the sound of a man's voice, raised in anger, coming from inside the barn.

  "You stupid wetback! What'n the hell do you think you're doin'?"

  At the word "wetback" Jesse's blood turned to ice. He'd been called that and worse through the years, and even though the racial slur hadn't been hurled at him personally, hearing it drew the same results. His lips curled in anger and his fingers tightened on the straps of his duffle bag.

  "Nothin', I swear," came a small voice.

  Jaime? The fear in the boy's voice had Jesse running the remaining distance to the barn. Once inside, he tossed the duffle bag to the ground.

  "What's going on here?" he demanded angrily of the wrangler who had Jaime pinned to the barn wall.

  The cowboy didn't even spare Jesse a glance. "Mind your own damn bizness," he muttered, tightening his hand on the front of Jaime's shirt and hauling him higher up the wall. "I told you to stay away from my stuff, now didn't I?" he raged on. "Didn't I?" he repeated, raising his voice an octave higher when Jaime didn't immediately answer.

  Jaime swallowed hard. "Yessir."

  "Well, now you're gonna pay." The wrangler released Jaime and reached for the buckle on his belt. Whipping the thick strap of leather from his belt loops, he quickly folded it in half and gave it a spine-chilling snap. He had the belt raised head high when Jesse's hand caught the strap and brought it down, using it to jerk the cowboy's hand behind his back.

  The cowboy reeled, eyes blazing. "I told you to mind your own bizness," he said through clenched teeth.

  Though Jesse wanted to tell the man to get his filthy hands off his son, he couldn't. Instead he said, "Jaime is my business."

  Using the one hand still free, the cowboy fisted it and took a swing at Jesse. But Jesse was quicker and stronger. He caught the man's hand before it hit its mark and had the guy up against the wall, his hands pinned above his head.

  "I mighta knowed," the cowboy spat out. "You wetbacks always stick together."

  Rage, red-hot and numbing, blinded Jesse to all but the face of the man in front of him. Dropping a hand, he clenched his fist and buried it in the man's stomach. Once. Twice. Three times. The cowboy managed one pitiful moan before he bent double, sucking at air.

  "Jesse! My God! What are you doing?"

  Mandy's voice came from behind him. She grabbed for his arm, but Jesse shrugged it off, delivering another blow, this time to the cowboy's face. The punch caught the man under the chin and sent him slamming back against the wall. Blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, while his eyes rolled back in his head.

  Horrified, Mandy fought her way between the two men, pressing her hands against Jesse's chest. "Stop it!" she cried. "Stop it right now!"

  In disgust, Jesse dropped the hand that had kept the cowboy upright, and Mandy had to leap out of the way when he slid to the barn floor, groaning.

  She planted her hands on her hips as she whirled to face Jesse. "What in the world is going on here?" she demanded angrily.

  Jesse stooped to scrape his hat off the ground. "He called Jaime a wetback," he growled. "He was going to whip him."

  Mandy's eyebrows shot up and her mouth dropped open.

  "Whip him!" She spun to stare at Jaime. "Oh, baby," she cried, rushing to gather him in her arms. Then she quickly pushed him to arm's length so that she could see him. "Did he hurt you?"

  Jaime, still pale and shaking, managed a wobbly smile. "Nah. Jesse had him up against the wall and was beating the tar out of him before he had the chance."

  Dropping her arms from her son, she spun again, but this time to glare down at her wrangler. "You're fired," she said tersely. "Pack your gear and get out. And don't you ever dare show your face on the Double-Cross again. Do you understand me?"

  The cowboy pushed to his feet, his eyes glinting with a meanness that would rival that found in the eyes of the devil himself. "Loud and clear." He scraped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood across his cheek. "I never liked workin' for no bitchin' woman, anyhow."

  The three horses plodded slowly across the pasture and started a slow climb up a short hill. Mandy and Jesse, riding with their son between them, were still caught in a pensive silence, a result of the ugly scene in the barn.

  Jaime didn't seem to share their somber mood.

  "You were terrific, Jesse!" Jaime dou
bled his hand into a fist and hit the air three times. "Bam! Bam! Bam!" He tossed back his head and laughed. "And did you see Rube's face? He didn't stand a chance. Boy, wait 'til I tell Davie."

  Though he heard the pride in his son's voice, Jesse was ashamed that Jaime had witnessed the violent attack. "Fighting is wrong, Jaime. A man should always keep his temper in check."

  Jaime twisted in his saddle to look at Jesse in surprise. "But he had it coming! He called me a wetback, and he called you one, too!"

  Jesse and Mandy exchanged a look over their son's head. Mandy's face showed concern; Jesse's, regret. "That's just a word, son, and words can't hurt us. You have to learn to let them roll off of you like water on a duck's back."

  Jaime's face fell. "But don't it make you mad when somebody calls you names?"

  "Doesn't it," Mandy corrected without thinking.

  Jaime frowned at her over his shoulder before turning back to Jesse. "Doesn't it make you mad?"

  Jesse let out a sigh. "Yeah, it does. But it doesn't give me the right to hit anyone. Fighting just lowers me to their level. Some people are prejudiced—thank God not everyone—and can't see past the color of a person's skin, or his nationality. But that's their problem, not ours."

  Jaime kept his gaze on Jesse, his forehead creased in puzzlement. "Then what do you do when people call you names?"

  "Ignore them. I've learned the hard way that in doing so, I rob them of their power over me." Hoping to change the subject to a lighter one, he asked, "Did you remember to pack your fishing rod?"

  Jaime reached behind him and patted his bedroll. "Right here. Think we'll catch us any fish?"

  Jesse grinned, then leaned over to ruffle his son's hair. "I hope so. If not, we're all going to bed hungry."

  Jesse sat with his back propped against the trunk of a tree, his fishing rod balanced between his knees. Mandy lay stretched out on a blanket to his left, sunning, while Jaime fished a narrow channel at the far end of the lake.

  "I'm sorry."

  Mandy lifted her head to peer at Jesse. "For what?"

  Jesse dipped his head and picked up a small stone from the ground. "For what happened in the barn."

  Mandy pushed herself to a sitting position, anxious to reassure him. "You were only trying to protect Jaime."

  Jesse lifted the stone and hurled it, watching it skip across the water. "Yes, but I should have sent him to the house before dealing with Rube. Jaime didn't need to witness that kind of violence."

  "He's seen fistfights before."

  Jesse glanced her way, his forehead creased by a frown.

  Mandy lifted a shoulder, then got to her feet. Crossing to him, she sat down beside him. "You know how short tempers can get when a bunch of men are working together on a ranch. More often than not, disagreements end in a fight."

  Jesse's frown deepened as he shifted his gaze to stare at the lake. "Yeah, but he hasn't seen me fighting."

  Mandy placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Jaime's even been in a few fights himself."

  Jesse turned to look at her. "He has?"

  Mandy nodded. "Though I certainly don't approve. And several of the fights started exactly as the one today in the barn, with name-calling."

  "He's been called a wetback before?"

  "And spic, beaner, greaser, foreign-exchange student." She waved a hand as if to lessen the words' importance. "Nothing that you haven't heard before."

  Sighing, Jesse gathered her hand in his, lacing his fingers with hers. "I'd hoped it would be easier for Jaime, him being a McCloud, and all."

  "Having the McCloud name behind him doesn't change the fact that he is part-Mexican."

  Jesse glanced up, his gaze meeting hers and holding.

  "No," he replied slowly. "The same as Barrister never made being part-Mexican any easier for me."

  From his spot downstream, Jaime glanced back over his shoulder and saw that his mother had moved from her blanket and was sitting by Jesse. And Jesse was even holding her hand!

  Jaime did a high-five at the sky, danced an end-zone jive that would have made Deion Sanders jealous … and very nearly fell in the lake. Catching himself just short of falling, he grinned, remembering the number of times Jesse had called him "son."

  Son! Jaime thought in wonder and decided he liked the sound of the word when it came from Jesse. He'd always wanted a dad, though he'd hidden the fact from his mother, thinking it would make her feel bad.

  "Mama and Jesse," he whispered in awe. "Man, it can't get any better than this!"

  "Mama, tell the story of how the Double-Cross got its name again."

  Mandy smiled at her son over the campfire. Though Jaime had heard the story a million times, he never tired of hearing it told again.

  "Well," she began. "Back in the mid-1800s two friends decided to pool their money and buy a five-thousand-acre tract of land in the Texas hill country. Their names were—"

  "Bart McCloud and Blade Barrister," Jaime interjected quickly.

  Mandy laughed. "Yes. Those were their names. And they named their ranch the Circle Bar."

  Jaime turned to Jesse and explained for his benefit, "The Barristers kept the Circle Bar name when the ranches divided, but the McClouds named theirs the Double-Cross Heart."

  Jesse bit back a smile. He knew the story well, but he decided to humor his son. "Is that a fact?"

  "Yep, it is." Jaime turned back to Mandy, motioning for her to go on. "Hurry up, Mama, tell the story."

  Mandy arched a brow. "Are you sure you don't want to tell it?"

  Jaime wagged his head. "No, you tell it better. But get to the good part where they have the big fight."

  Mandy resumed the tale. "While in Kansas City selling a herd of cattle, Bart fell in love with a beautiful young woman whose name was—"

  "Amanda Grayson," Jaime interrupted again. He turned to Jesse, smiling proudly. "Mama's named after her. My grandmother thought it was romantic-soundin'."

  Mandy pursed her lips and frowned at her son. "Are you sure you don't want to tell the story?"

  Jaime grinned sheepishly. "Nah. I promise I'll be quiet."

  "Well—" Mandy eyed her son dubiously for a moment, then caught up the thread of the story again. "Bart married Amanda and brought her home with him to Texas to live on the Circle Bar. Since he and Blade shared a house, Amanda lived there, too.

  "One day Bart was out working cattle and returned home unexpectedly and found Blade and Amanda in a compromising position."

  Jaime chuckled, elbowing Jesse in the ribs. "He caught 'em doin' the wild thing."

  Jesse sputtered a laugh, then quickly covered it when he saw Mandy's frown.

  "As I was saying," Mandy went on pointedly, turning her frown on her son. "Bart caught them together and he was so mad and so hurt by his wife's infidelity that he left and never went back. He set up camp on the far side of the ranch and sent word to Blade that he wanted to divide their ranch in two. Bart took the twenty-five hundred acres to the north and left Blade the twenty-five hundred acres to the south."

  "And was Amanda happy with Blade?" Jaime prodded eagerly.

  "No," Mandy replied, smiling sadly. "She regretted her mistake until the day she died. You see, Blade was a mean-spirited man. He didn't truly love Amanda the way Bart did. He just wanted her because Bart had her, and he couldn't stand Bart to have something that he didn't. Once he had Amanda, Blade didn't want her anymore. Realizing the foolishness of her mistake, Amanda went to Bart and tried to persuade him to forgive her, but Bart wouldn't. She'd broken his heart."

  Mandy shook her head, as if clearing the memory. "Anyway, Bart never got over the loss of Amanda, or the fact that Blade had betrayed his trust. So he named his ranch the Double-Cross Heart, as a constant reminder to Blade and everyone else in the community of Blade's betrayal."

  Jaime turned to Jesse. "And that's why the Barristers and the McClouds have feuded all these years," he finished proudly. "And the Barristers to this day are all still
a bunch of dirty, stinking liars and thieves to boot."

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jaime's chin sagged and his face reddened. "Gosh, Jesse. I'm sorry. I forget that you're a Barrister."

  Jesse dropped back his head and laughed. He shifted his plate to his knee so that he could reach over and give Jaime's shoulder a playful slug. "Don't worry, kid, there have been times when I've called them the same thing."

  "Eat your dinner, Jaime," Mandy ordered. "I think that's enough storytelling for one night."

  Seeing that Mandy was as mortified by Jaime's statement as the boy was, Jesse sought to lighten the mood. "Mmm-mmm," he said with feeling as he set his plate aside. "That was the best fried catfish I've ever eaten. And these hush puppies." He popped the last one in his mouth and closed his eyes on a sigh. "They melt in your mouth."

  Jaime tucked his tongue to the corner of his mouth and nabbed a blob of ketchup, then grinned. "My mama's the best cook in the whole wide world. And she's pretty, too, isn't she?"

  Jesse glanced up to smile at Mandy over the camp-fire. "Yes, she surely is."

  "Oh, stop it, you two," Mandy fussed, embarrassed by the praise. "I already said I'd clean up the dishes, so you don't have to bribe me with compliments."

  "I'll clean up," Jaime quickly offered, jumping to his feet to grab his mother's plate. "Why don't you two take a walk before it gets too dark to see?"

  Mandy and Jesse shared a surprised look. "All right," Jesse said slowly. He held out a hand. "Mandy?"

  With a bewildered glance at her son, Mandy stepped around the campfire, accepting Jesse's hand. "Be careful with the fire," she warned Jaime.

  "I will. Y'all just enjoy the moonlight. Oh, and don't be in any rush to get back," he added. "I think I'll go on to bed once I'm finished with the dishes."

  "'Enjoy the moonlight'?" Mandy whispered as Jesse guided her down the path to the lake. "And what in the world did he mean by 'don't be in any rush to get back'?"