Blake Allen

by Danni Roan

  Blake felt his father’s strong arms clench around his shoulders. When had he grown as tall as this man? When had his shoulders grown as broad? He didn’t know, but as his father held him tight soaking in some of the pain and burden he felt, another Father held them both and Blake knew that no matter how old he grew, where he was, or what he did, someone wiser, stronger, and more loving than his own dad would always be at his side. One more time Blake turned his heart to God, giving the pain, fear, and doubt to his Heavenly Father.

  Clay eased Blake from the room, one arm wrapped around his son’s shoulders, as Reese slipped back into the sick room. Together the two Allen men headed for the kitchen. A few moments later he was listening to Blake’s tale, while they sipped coffee. A cold shiver ran down his spine as Blake recounted the robbery and shooting all over again, each image growing sharper with the retelling.

  “Don’t tell your mother that part,” Clay said, as Blake explained about the possibilities of corruption in the police force, his bright eyes pinning Blake in his chair. “She’ll worry even more.”

  Blake nodded as he felt his strength and confidence returning, as if sitting and simply pouring it all out to his father had taken some of the weight from his shoulders. When he had applied to the police academy at the tender age of seventeen, Blake had believed that he served a greater purpose. Now, even with the suffering he had caused, perhaps he had to believe that, perhaps, he had so easily completed his training and moved up the ranks for such a time as this. His status as one of the youngest detectives meant he was unknown to criminals and law officers alike. Perhaps this advantage was what was needed to make a difference in these dark days.

  For several long minutes, after his tale had been retold, Clay and Blake sat in companionable silence as they sipped the bitter brew in tin cups. Reese had retreated to the sick room to watch over Darcy, and Blake felt a strange sense of peace in his heart as he relaxed.

  “How is everyone?” Blake finally asked, now able to set his troubles aside. “Ma’s well?”

  Clay chuckled placing his cup on the table with a soft clink. She’s your ma, sweet, sassy, and still singin’ like an angel.” The older man’s voice had taken on a gentle quality that touched Blake’s heart. He knew the story of how Clayton Allen, a Florida Cracker cowboy, had come to the Broken J to work only to set Meg’s back up at first glance. The love hate relationship between the stubborn couple had soon turned to much more, but that was a tale for another time.

  “I’m glad she’s well. The past couple of years have been a little slow around here I know. Ma gets restless.”

  “Times have been rough in the farming community for a while. The Broken J is set up to weather the hard times though. We grow our own food, generate our own power, and raise good beef. Horse sales are slow now, and I’m changing what I’m looking for in the stock, pushing for faster racers as well as saddle and cow horses. We still earn enough over all, even with the automobile taking on more and more of the jobs horses once held. Factor in the wheat sales and the money from the saw mill and we’ll be fine.”

  Something tight unfurled in Blake’s chest at his father’s words. He had known that farming had slipped in recent years as oil and gas had become the larger state production, but had given little thought about the prosperity of the Broken J. Here the whole family worked together to keep the place running. Even as younger generations looked outside the ranch for a new and different future, many stayed and worked the land as they always had.

  “Son, you worry about what you have to do and let us worry about the ranch.” Clay spoke softly. “This place isn’t going anywhere, and we’ve lived through some lean years before. We’re taking steps to stock up while the growing season is good, and whatever comes next, we’ll get through it by God’s grace and hard work.”

  “You know I have to go back once I’m sure Darcy’s going to recover.” Blake held his father’s gaze, his mind moving forward with his job.

  “I know. I wouldn’t expect less. I’ve never known you to turn away from any job, even the hard ones.”

  “Like the time I decided to break that mustang to ride,” Blake blushed, a grin flashing across his handsome face.

  “Just like that. You could have worked any horse on the ranch, but you chose that loco roan and no matter how many times he tossed you, bit you, or mashed you into something you kept at it until the two of you could work as one.”

  “He was only fighting the loss of his freedom,” Blake said with a shrug. “I guess in the end I gave in though. I turned him loose.”

  “No, you did the right thing even then. You turned that horse loose. He was wild at heart and as much as the two of you became partners you knew he needed to be free. You’re a lot like that horse, it’s why I knew your ma and me had to let you go.”

  “I’m sorry if that hurt you Pa.”

  Clay shook his head, brushing a lock of mostly black hair from his forehead. “Parents always want to keep their kids close, that doesn’t make it the right thing to do. You grew up, that was our job, to help you become the man you’re supposed to be.”

  “Thanks,” Blake said, softly.

  “Blake,” Reese called down the hallway and Blake sprang into motion trotting toward him. “She’s asking for you.”

  Blake skidded to a stop at the door stepping inside and slowing.

  “Where’d you go Turnip,” Darcy whispered. “Your uncle’s nice enough, but I hope you don’t plan on leaving me here with him.”

  “I’m not going anywhere Darcy,” Blake grinned, taking the hand she waved in his direction. “I’ll stick with you until you’re well then I’ll bring the gang down.”

  “That’s the plan.” Darcy smiled weakly. “Now tell me who that good lookin’ cowboy standing in the doorway is.”

  Blake turned waving for his father to join him. “This is my pa,” the young lawman said, still clutching Darcy’s cold hand. “Clayton Allen, I’d like you to meet Darcy…” he stopped swiveling his head back to the woman. “I don’t know your last name.”

  “Darcy Stanley,” she offered sagging with the effort.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Clay drawled. “Blake speaks highly of you.”

  Darcy’s eyes widened as she looked at Blake, whose ears grew red. “You spreading falsehoods about me Turnip?”

  “Only giving credit where it’s due.”

  Clay raised a brow at Darcy calling his son Turnip but didn’t say anything about it. “I’ll leave you to rest,” the old cowhand said, his southern twang smooth. “We’ll be praying for you.”

  “Another do-gooder huh?” Darcy met Blake’s golden gaze. His eyes were almost the exact amber brown of his father’s, and she could see where he got his good looks, though there was something more to Blake, a firm line to the jaw and those hints of red in his dark locks that the sun was turning to fire.

  “I guess it’s a weakness in my kin,” Blake teased releasing her hand and tucking the quilt tighter around her. His uncle had said to keep the window open but the air seemed to chill the room. “You need to sleep,” he said, gently. “You need your rest.”

  “Are you leaving?” Darcy’s brown eyes shimmered with doubt and Blake reached for her hand again.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured. “I’ll have to run down to see my mother later, but for now I’m all yours.”

  Darcy’s eyes grew heavy and she found that for some strange reason she believed the man. She drifted off to sleep his hand still in hers.

  Chapter 16

  Blake paused, stepping up to the fence line and letting Darcy rest. Reese had agreed to let him show the woman around the Broken J saying that after two weeks of rest and recovery in the house, walking would be good for her.

  They had been on the Broken J for such a short time, and Darcy was recovering well. Blake only hoped that she would have her strength back soon. Reese continued to declare the fact that the bullet, that had punctured her left side, hadn’t hit anything vital was n
othing short of miraculous.

  Looking down at Darcy who leaned heavily on the fence, Blake took in her pallor, and the pinched signs of pain around her eyes. He knew that just walking slowly along the fence was draining, but she was determined to get her strength back and insisted on getting outside and seeing the place he called home.

  “Do you want to go back?” Blake asked. “You should rest.”

  “No, I won’t get my strength back if I spend all my time in bed. We still have a job to do Turnip, and I’m not ready to give up yet. And you are not going on your own, so don’t even start with that nonsense.”

  Blake rested his arms on the top fence rail folding his hands together as he gazed out at the horses grazing peacefully in the pasture. It felt good to be back in his own clothes, as if he had fit back into his real skin, instead of the persona he had been living while working for Pierce.

  The soft flannel of his freshly pressed blue and white plaid shirt was warm, comfortable, worn in.

  “You’re still determined to bring the gang down?”

  “More than ever,” Darcy all but growled. “They tried to kill me. There is no other explanation. Pierce had decided I had out lived my usefulness and arranged for those dirty cops to take me out. I’m sure of it.”

  Blake looked down at the slim, almost frail, woman next to him seeing the flush of anger touch her cheeks. “You don’t have to go back though. It’s my job. You could stay here where it’s safe or go home to your family.”

  “My family won’t have me back,” Darcy huffed derisively. “As for being safe, the minute Pierce finds out I’m still alive, he’ll find someone to finish the job. Unless of course I can find him first and convince him that I’m clueless to what really happened. Then again if he’s already found another woman what will be the point?” She looked up into Blake’s eyes, her lips twitching slightly. “Turnip, if I don’t do this, I’ll never be free. I know several of the locations that Pierce uses as a base for his business. In short, I know too much to be allowed to live.”

  Blake turned his whole body toward Darcy his hand straying absently to her arm. “Right now he already thinks you’re dead. Why not let him believe that is true and start over?”

  Darcy took a step back, breaking the connection between them and turned back to gaze over the pasture. “If I don’t do this, I’ll never be able to put it behind me. I’ll forever be what I was the day I stepped into that bank, the property of a bad man. If I help you bring this gang down, maybe I’ll be able to find some peace in this life.”

  “Darcy, that isn’t how redemption works,” Blake started only for her to cut him off with a wave of her hand.

  “Don’t preach at me Turnip. I’m in this thing, and I’m not stopping until it’s over, one way or another.” Darcy lifted her dark eyes to his and a light of determination radiated from them.

  Blake reached for her, but she turned her back and began walking back toward the narrow break in the fence line that permitted a person to slip onto the path to his home.

  A creeping feeling up his spine told Blake that Darcy didn’t want his company right now, and he knew that if he followed her they would only argue once more. He didn’t want to argue with her. He wanted to finish this and let the woman have the peace she deserved.

  Keeping an eye on Darcy’s slow progress toward his parent’s house, Blake leaned on the fence once more. They had discussed this issue at length, and though he knew he had a better chance of success with Darcy on his side, he didn’t want to put her in danger again.

  “Blake, you got a letter,” a boy of about fifteen trotted toward him on a spotted pony, his dark curls bouncing with each step.

  “Thanks Matt,” Blake said, taking the letter from the boy’s hand. Mae and Reese’s twins had never batted an eye at Darcy being in their home, though their curiosity had gotten the better of them once or twice when she was finally able to leave the sick room. “Where’s Madison?”

  “She’s helping Fiona in the ranch house today. I think their planning a big family Sunday dinner for tomorrow.”

  Blake nodded. He would have to talk to Darcy and prepare her for dealing with the whole family all in one place. Of course she might not want to join them since she preferred keeping to herself. Even convincing her to leave Mae’s place had almost caused a fight. He had wanted her to move down to his parent’s house for her recovery, but she insisted she was better off staying where she was. It was obvious she felt out of place and unwanted at the Broken J.

  Darcy was reticent to mingle with the family, and though she had been willing to sit in the living room with Mae, Reese, and their family, she didn’t want to mix with anyone else.

  It had taken a visit from Blake’s mother to convince Darcy to move to the house in the pasture. Not only did the house have more room and less residents, it put Blake’s mind at ease to be able to keep an eye on the woman he felt responsible for. He wanted to keep her safe, to protect her not only from Pierce and his gang, but from the trials and condemnation of life.

  Somewhere along the way Blake had developed a protectiveness for Darcy that he didn’t totally understand. Perhaps it was because he felt responsible for her recent injury, or perhaps it was something he couldn’t quite explain yet. Either way it was going to be hard to convince her to join the family for dinner.

  Watching his younger cousin trot away toward the ranch house, Blake pulled out a pocket knife and neatly slit the top of the envelope open.

  The missive was exactly what he had been expecting. They were running out of time.

  ***

  “Darcy, are you sure you won’t come to dinner?” Blake asked one last time as he and his parents prepared to go to the big ranch house. The large two-story structure had been the main living quarters for the family for decades and the tradition of big dinners in the kitchen or on the wrap-around-porch had been set long ago.

  “No, I’m tired and want to rest.” Darcy stood by the window in the spare room gazing out across the prairie. “You go on, and don’t worry about me.” She turned offering a kind smile. “Besides, sometimes a girl just likes to be alone.”

  Blake nodded, turning away as a sense of disappointment washed over him. He wanted Darcy to see that his family would accept her. That no matter where she came from or what her life had been up to this point she would be welcome. Pausing in the door he turned again to address the quiet room.

  “I got a letter last night.”

  Darcy turned meeting his troubled gaze.

  “The gang hit a bank in Laramie this time, two guards were killed.”

  “We need to find them,” Darcy said. “We need to stop Pierce and those other men.”

  Blake stepped into the room. “You aren’t ready yet.”

  “I think I am,” Darcy bit back. “We’ll talk about it tonight. I have an idea of where they might have gone if they were in Laramie last. Go join your family and we’ll talk later.”

  This time when Blake stepped out of the room he didn’t turn back but headed for the front door where his father handed him his hat with a sad smile.

  Chapter 17

  “It’s about time you two got here,” Meg chided, a bright smile on her lips as Clay and Blake stepped out onto the back porch of the big ranch house. “We’ve been cooking since yesterday and everything will be ready soon.”

  “Clay, Blake.” Hank Ballard waved, lifting a beefy hand, greeting the two men as they made their way to the table. Over the years, the big man’s hair had started to gray but he looked every bit as powerful as when he had first arrived at the Broken J.

  “You two sit down,” Fiona, her silver streaked curls straining at their pins, hustled to the table, placing a massive bowl of potatoes amidst the rest of the piping dishes already there. “We’re almost ready to eat, then after we’ll have a reading and prayer.”

  Clayton slipped onto the bench seat next to his brother-in-law Will. “Where’s Katie?”

  “She’ll be along,” Will grinned, noddin
g to Blake as he took a seat. “The women have been cooking up a storm to impress your friend. I take it you couldn’t convince her to join us.”

  Blake shook his head. “Darcy isn’t coming. She says she’s tired.”

  Blake’s uncle grinned again, in understanding. “This bunch would probably be a lot for her to take in anyway.” Will, the foreman for the cattle operation smoothed his salt and pepper hair back with both hands. “We can be a little over whelming.”

  Other men at the table laughed, each remembering when they had first arrived on the ranch to take a job. Back then the whole family, including the hands, ate together each day.