Jessie's Child
Lois Faye Dyer
“For tonight, I’m just Zach. And you’re just Jessie. No last names. No family between us.”
“Can we do that?” she asked, her voice shaking with confusion while her body pulsed with desire.
“We can do anything we want.” Zach pressed his mouth against the curve of her throat and she closed her eyes, arching her back to offer him greater access. “Give us tonight, Jessie.”
She struggled with her conscience while the vow she’d made at ten years old to hate all Kerrigans faded beneath the force of her own desire. He’s not like the rest of them. She fumbled behind her and twisted the doorknob, allowing the door to swing inward. She saw a flare of satisfaction in his eyes before he swung her off her feet and carried her into the apartment.
Dear Reader,
I fell in love with northeast Montana when I was five years old. That was the year my family moved there to help my great-uncle work his wheat-and-cattle ranch just north of Peerless. I saw my first real horseman when neighbor Tony Kleeman joined my father to run the Hereford cattle into the home pasture for the winter. The fluid rhythm of Tony riding a quarter horse was like watching choreographed ballet. I was wide-eyed, awed, amazed and left with an image I’ve never forgotten.
The ranchers who work the land in Daniels County and elsewhere in Montana are rugged, independent individuals, and the women who share their lives are equally strong. But like families everywhere, pride, prejudice, betrayal and intrigue can complicate their lives. I hope you enjoy this story about Jessie McCloud, Zach Kerrigan and their struggle to create a family for their much-loved son, Rowdy. And I hope you’ll return to Wolf Creek with me for the third installment in The McClouds of Montana when Chase McCloud reluctantly joins forces with Raine Harper to search for her missing brother.
Warmest wishes,
Lois Faye Dyer
Jessie’s Child
Lois Faye Dyer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LOIS FAYE DYER
lives on the shores of beautiful Puget Sound in Washington State. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Paperbacks Plus, 1618 Bay Street, Port Orchard, WA 98366. Please visit her on the Web at www.LoisDyer.com and at www.specialauthors.com.
For my sisters, Norma, Shirley, Elsie and Carol, and for my brother, B. L. Jacobson. Because you all remember those years in Montana.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter One
Wolf Creek, Montana
Early Spring
Jessie McCloud shivered in the raw wind that blew down from the buttes, carrying a spatter of raindrops that felt like ice against her tear-dampened cheeks. She struggled to stifle her sobs but succeeded only in hiccupping as she tried to swallow the sound.
Flanked by her two tall teenage brothers, she clutched their hands, squeezing harder.
Seventeen-year-old Chase bent toward her. “Are you okay, Jessie?”
She nodded, glancing fearfully over her shoulder at the Montana State Department of Corrections Officer who stood several feet behind them. The uniformed man’s expression was stern, his gaze fixed on the mahogany casket and gravesite beyond.
Jessie turned back, focusing on the velvety petals of the red roses with their lush green leaves resting on top of the casket. She’d adored her Grandpa Angus and could hardly believe he was gone. No longer would he tell her stories and share the butterscotch candy he always had tucked away in his jacket pocket. No longer would he tease her and laugh at her riddles.
She looked up at her brother Luke, who held her right hand. His face was grim as he stared toward the mourners on the far side of the grave. Curious, her gaze followed his and located their grandfather’s widow, Laura Kerrigan-McCloud, surrounded by her family.
Jessie’s eyes narrowed over the small group of Kerrigans.
Her grandfather had married Laura Kerrigan when they were both elderly and their hair snowy-white. He’d loved her dearly and wed her despite the objections of her family and his. The feud between the McClouds and the Kerrigans had begun in 1922, when a crooked poker game cost a McCloud 2500 acres of prime land. But her Grandpa Angus was the first to die as a result of the enmity between the two families, indirect though it was.
Jessie had overheard Luke telling their father he was convinced Grandpa Angus had died of a broken heart. He loved his grandchildren and when Chase went to jail, Luke believed, Angus had grieved himself to death.
Jessie hated all the Kerrigans but the one she hated most wasn’t there. Lonnie was nearly seventeen, the same age as Chase, but he was a bully, the opposite of her big brother in every way. Lonnie had caused the death of Chase’s best friend, Mike Harper, in a car accident that had left Chase hospitalized with two broken ribs and a concussion. Backed by his father, Harlan, Lonnie had lied and convinced the police and courts that Chase had been the driver of the wrecked pickup truck. Chase, convicted of negligent homicide, had been sentenced to jail.
It was so unfair. She vowed to become a lawyer and send all the Kerrigans responsible for the injustice, especially Lonnie and his father, to prison. She wouldn’t give up until she’d set things right.
The wind picked up, sweeping down from the buttes behind the cemetery to ruffle the short spikes of spring grass that were bright green threads among winter’s dried yellow stalks. The raw breeze carried rain, and umbrellas snapped open.
“Our Father, Who art in Heaven…” The minister’s voice was joined by Jessie’s mother’s, her tear-filled recitation of the familiar words trembling in the air. Unable to speak, Jessie gripped Luke’s and Chase’s hands tighter. Their much-larger hands were roughened by calluses, enfolding her cold, smaller ten-year-old fingers in warmth and security. Bracketed by her tall teenage brothers, she struggled to keep the sobs inside but the effort made her chest hurt and her eyes sting as grief clamored for release.
The prayer ended and the crowd of mourners on the far side of the casket stirred, murmuring while they lined up to follow the minister as he approached her parents.
All but the Kerrigans. Laura, Harlan and his widowed sister-in-law, Judith, and her two children, Rachel and Zach, climbed into a luxury sedan and drove off, leaving the cemetery.
I hate you all. Jessie vowed fiercely, You’ll pay for hurting my family. I swear on Grandpa’s grave.
“Jessie,” her mother said softly.
A tear rolled unheeded down Jessie’s cheek and she obeyed the silent invitation of her mother’s outstretched arm. Releasing her brothers’ hands, she moved to her mother’s side and nestled against the slightly damp wool coat. Margaret McCloud slipped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and tucked her close.
The stream of mourners offering hushed words of condolence seemed to go on forever but finally the last person turned away.
“It’s time, son.” The corrections officer stepped forward, resting his hand on Chase’s shoulder.
No! He couldn’t take Chase, not now.
Jessie sucked in a breath and held it, her muscles rigid with the effort to not cry. Her vision wavered as she watched the big brother she adored hug her mother and father and say goodbye. Then it was her turn. The tears slipped past her defenses. Sobbing, she flung herself at Chase and wrapped her arms around him, desperate to keep him with her.
Chase’s tight hug and the feel of his hand as he smoothed her hair was heartbreakingly dear and familiar. She couldn’t make her fingers release him but at last, he pried her fists free of his coat and stepped back.
Jessie felt ripped in two. The next few moments were a blur as her brother said goodbye. Far too quickly, the marked police car was driving away, leaving Jessie, Luke and their parents standing alone by the gravesite.
I hate the Kerrigans, she thought fiercely, fists clenched, as she stared after the police car taking her brother away.
Wolf Creek, Montana
Late summer, 15 years later
“Zach Kerrigan is back in town.”
Jessie McCloud froze, all her attention focused on the voices of the women in the next grocery aisle.
“I know. Stacey saw him buying gas at Keeler’s Truck Stop two days ago. She said he hasn’t changed, in fact, he looks better than he did in high school. She was almost hyperventilating while she was telling me.”
Feminine laughter floated over the shelves. Jessie stood motionless in the cereal aisle, clutching a forgotten box of granola mix.
“And he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but she didn’t have a chance to ask him whether he was involved with anyone.”
“I hope not,” the first speaker said. “But one of us should find out. Why don’t you…” The voice faded, the two women obviously moving away down the aisle.
Zach’s home. Jessie felt shell-shocked. When did he come back? How long has he been here? She’d been out of town herself for the last two and a half weeks, visiting a college friend in Wyoming, but she’d spoken to her parents several times while she was gone. Her mother hadn’t said a word about Zach’s return to Wolf Creek.
“Mommy? Can we buy this cereal?”
The little-boy treble, followed by a tug on her khaki shorts, broke the spell that held Jessie and she looked down. Her three-year-old son, Rowdy, clutched a box of cereal against his middle with one arm while his right hand gripped the hem of her shorts. She forced a smile. “Sorry, Rowdy. What did you ask me?”
“Can we get this one?” He released her to grasp the box with two hands and hold it up for her inspection. The bright colors of a superhero’s costumed body splashed across the front panel.
“Sorry, kiddo.” Jessie shook her head. “That’s about ninety-five percent sugar and five percent wheat. Let’s try this one.”
Rowdy scowled, clearly disappointed. “But Mom, this is what all the superheroes eat.”
“And just how do you know, young man? Have you been watching cartoons with Uncle Chase and Uncle Luke again?”
“Yup.” The little boy grinned, his face lighting with mischief.
He looked so much like his father in that moment that Jessie’s heart clenched. The twinkle in his dark gold eyes, so unlike the color of her own blue ones, was infectious. Her smile wobbled as she ruffled Rowdy’s mop of hair, her fingers lingering on the silky strands of ebony hazed with subtle highlights that echoed her own auburn mane. “I’m going to have a talk with your uncles,” she warned. “They know you’re not supposed to watch television.”
“We only watch the good stuff,” Rowdy assured her.
“Hmm,” Jessie murmured. Her brothers were convinced she was too strict with her son and had taken it upon themselves to expose him to the “good stuff” they thought all little boys should know, including cartoons, with a special emphasis on Spider-Man, the Road Runner and Sponge-Bob SquarePants.
“Can we go to Uncle Luke and Aunt Rachel’s house tonight?”
“Not tonight,” Jessie murmured. Her brother Luke had recently married Zach Kerrigan’s sister, Rachel, and Rowdy had immediately extended his adoration of Luke to include his new aunt. After the initial shock of learning her brother had fallen in love with Lonnie Kerrigan’s cousin, Jessie had reluctantly been won over when Chase gave the couple his blessing. She still had reservations about whether Luke had betrayed Chase by marrying a Kerrigan, but was growing to like Rachel more each day. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Rowdy bounced down the aisle ahead of the grocery cart, jumping from one tile square to the next like a miniature human pogo stick.
Behind him, Jessie dropped the granola into the nearly full grocery cart, her mind whirling as she followed her son. Maybe Zach was only in town to visit his mother and would soon be gone. If so, their paths might not cross. Wolf Creek was a small town but perhaps if she was careful, she could avoid running into him.
But what if he were home to stay?
The possibility seemed unlikely. The Zach she’d known for one brief night four years ago had thrived on dangerous military assignments in foreign countries. It was difficult to imagine he could change so dramatically that he’d willingly settle for a quieter life in Wolf Creek. She’d been convinced he wouldn’t return but now that he had, she was faced with a huge dilemma. When she’d learned she was pregnant with Rowdy four years earlier, she’d had good reasons for not telling Zach. Those reasons still existed. She could have left Wolf Creek and reduced the likelihood of seeing Zach again but she’d taken a calculated risk and returned home to build a life after law school.
It appeared her luck may have just run out.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to reconsider John Sanchez’s offer to join his law firm in Kalispell.
The mountain town was separated from Wolf Creek by nearly the full width of Montana. Surely she and Rowdy would be safe there?
But she hated the idea of leaving her family and her home. Besides, wouldn’t her running away be one more victory for the Kerrigans?
No, she resolved in the checkout line. She wouldn’t panic. Before she made any decisions, she had to find out how long Zach planned to stay. It couldn’t be too hard for her and Rowdy to simply maintain a low profile and avoid him.
Once Rowdy was tucked into bed that evening, Jessie thumbed the mute button on the television control, leaving the screen lit with a travelogue, and dialed Luke’s phone number.
Her brother’s wife answered on the second ring.
The two chatted for several minutes about Luke, Rowdy and a legal case Jessie was working on before she found an opening.
“I heard a rumor in town today that your brother, Zach, has come home,” Jessie said casually.
“Yes.” Rachel’s voice brightened, affection pouring over the line. “He was at the house when I returned from Denver. Didn’t I tell you? I guess that by the time Luke and I got home from our honeymoon, having Zach back was old news.” Her voice sobered. “I’m so glad he’s here, Jessie. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving Mom alone to deal with Harlan and Lonnie while we were in Hawaii if he hadn’t been.”
“It sounds as if the timing of his return couldn’t have been better. He’s been back in Wolf Creek how long—a few weeks?”
“Yes, almost three and a half, actually. There’s so much work to do at the ranch that he’s been staying close to home. Do you know Zach, Jessie?” Rachel asked. “He probably finished high school and left town before you were a freshman.”
“I think he graduated several years before I did,” she said, avoiding answering Rachel’s question. Jessie doubted there was a female in her age bracket who didn’t know who Zach Kerrigan was.
“You’ll have to come over for dinner one night this week and meet him,” Rachel said with enthusiasm. “I’ll see if I can drag Zach away from work for a few hours. What day would be best for you and Rowdy?”
“I’m not sure.” Never, she thought. “I left my day planner at the office but I’ll check the calendar tomorrow and let you know. I think I have a couple of evening meetings but I don’t remember which nights.”
“Let me know and I’ll give Zach a call.”
“I’ll do that.” She paused. “Do I need to find time this week or would next week work as well? Will he be leaving soon?” Jessie asked, holding her breath.
“I’m not sure,” Rachel replied. “He told me he’s staying but his boss insisted he just take a three-month leave of absence. If I have my way, Zach’s home for good. I can’t imagine how Mom will run the ranch without him. So, about dinner,” Rachel continued, “you’ll call and let me know when you can join us?”
“Yes, as soon as I check my calendar. I have a court hearing in the morning but I should be back in the office after lunch.”
“Great. Talk to you then.”
Jessie said goodbye and dropped the phone into its cradle, staring unseeingly at the flickering television screen. Dinner with Zach and Rowdy at the same table?
Not a chance.
And he’s here for at least three months, maybe longer, she thought. A dull headache throbbed insistently and she rubbed her temples while her mind whirled with memories.
She’d last seen Zach in Missoula, miles away from Wolf Creek on the opposite side of the state. She’d been enrolled in the University of Montana’s law school; he was working in the campus Marine Recruitment Office while recovering from injuries received during an overseas assignment. Though she’d passed him on campus, they hadn’t exchanged even polite hellos until late one afternoon when they both happened to be at an off-campus coffee shop. They were waiting in line for lattes when what turned out to be a disgruntled ex-employee entered, drew a gun and began to shoot. The situation was chaotic and frightening, and afterward, Jessie was shaken, terrorized by the violence. Zach had bought her dinner, then walked her across campus to her apartment, where they’d come together in a primal, life-affirming reaction to the stress and danger. Jessie had lost track of the number of times they made love but sometime during the night, she realized that the foundation of her world had shifted.
The next morning she’d been appalled at herself for sleeping with Chase’s enemy. She’d said hurtful things that she knew she’d never forget, and in anger, both agreed the night had been a mistake. Zach left for the airport, bound for Afghanistan to rejoin his military unit.
That cataclysmic night had consequences neither of them had anticipated when a home pregnancy test turned out to be positive a short month later. At first, Jessie couldn’t decide whether she should locate Zach and tell him their night together had had unexpected results.
The question had haunted her.
She’d spent the years since Chase went to jail vowing vengeance on the Kerrigans. Chase hadn’t come home immediately after he was released. Instead, he’d taken a job as a bounty hunter with an agency owned by the brother of a prison guard he’d befriended. Up until a year ago, Chase had lived in Seattle and during his infrequent visits home, he wasn’t the brother she remembered from her childhood. He seemed a hard and dangerous man employed in a violent business, his emotions locked behind an impenetrable wall. And it broke her heart. She was tortured by the guilt of betraying Chase by sleeping with the enemy. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her beloved brother that his nephew’s father was a Kerrigan.
But buried deep within her was the conviction that the night she’d spent with Zach had been more than an impetuous fling. Zach clearly hadn’t felt the same earthshaking connection she had. Was it likely he’d have even wanted to know she was pregnant?
She couldn’t imagine how she could have told her parents they’d have to share their first long-awaited grandchild with the family they hated. And how would they have felt about her baby, knowing despised Kerrigan blood ran through his veins? Jessie was convinced her parents and brothers would never purposely treat her child differently because of Zach’s family, but how could she be sure the feud between the families wouldn’t subconsciously color their view of her baby?
It took two long, sleepless weeks to reach a decision. In the end, she’d decided not to try to contact Zach but instead, she told her parents she’d married a fellow student in a quick Las Vegas wedding, only to divorce just as easily six weeks later. She confided the truth about the fictitious marriage only to her mother and even then, she didn’t reveal the identity of her baby’s father.
It had been a complicated plan but Jessie had thought it was necessary. And she’d told herself she would make the decision to tell Zach he was a father if the opportunity arose and if she thought he’d care, although she knew that wasn’t likely to ever happen. Zach had left Wolf Creek at eighteen and, as far as she was aware, he’d never been back.
After she’d finished law school and Rowdy was two years old, she’d returned to Wolf Creek to set up her law practice and build a life for herself and her son.
I may have to tell Zach about Rowdy at some point, she thought, but if I do, it’s not going to happen at dinner with his sister and my brother present.
Rachel and Luke’s marriage had created a bridge between the two families, over which various members of the McClouds and Kerrigans had cautiously crossed. Jessie genuinely liked Rachel but she couldn’t imagine her sister-in-law being pleased to learn that Jessie had kept it a secret that Rowdy was her nephew. Let alone how Zach would feel about the news.
The McClouds’ acceptance of Rachel didn’t extend to the rest of the Kerrigan clan. Jessie didn’t want to contemplate how her brothers might react if they learned Zach Kerrigan was Rowdy’s father. She’d refused to reveal anything about her son’s biological father beyond the tale of the nonexistent six-week marriage. After that conversation, Chase and Luke had made occasional caustic remarks about “the SOB who bailed when he found out Jessie was pregnant.” They’d been very careful not to make such comments in front of Rowdy, but they’d also refused to listen when she’d tried to persuade them that their interpretation was wrong.
She shuddered. Having her brothers learn a Kerrigan was “the SOB who bailed” would only make their reaction worse.
She wondered how much more difficult it would be to tell Zach.
If I decide to tell him, I’ll make an appointment to see him and do it in person. She didn’t relish the thought. Though she was convinced she’d moved on and put her feelings about that night behind her, she knew delivering the news about Rowdy wouldn’t be easy.
Would he be angry? She hadn’t a clue.
Probably not, she thought. Statistics prove a high percentage of men in America don’t have any interest in children beyond the act of conception.
Would he want to be involved in Rowdy’s life or would he choose to remain anonymous?
Ah, now that was the most important question, she realized. And the one that worried her most.
She could bear Zach’s anger and her parents’ disappointment in her; also, her brothers’ certain outrage and Rachel’s dismay. She’d been forced to make choices four years ago that impacted all of them and would pay the price for her decisions without flinching. But Rowdy was innocent. He didn’t deserve to be involved in an emotional fire-storm.
A swift rush of motherly protectiveness swamped her.
He’s my little boy, only mine. Jessie realized her hands were curled into fists, her entire body tensed as if ready for battle. She forced her fingers to straighten and took several deep breaths in an effort to relax.
Despite her fierce emotions, she knew her instinctive response was impractical. She was a lawyer, a member of the Montana Bar Association, and she was fully aware Zach had a right to visitation with Rowdy, if that’s what he wanted. Excluding Zach from their son’s life wasn’t legally possible.
That didn’t mean she had to like it.
She thrust her fingers through her hair, tugging the thick, heavy mass away from her temples where the dull headache still throbbed.
Worrying at this point was fruitless, she told herself. More likely than not, Zach would be gone before long, flying back to whatever part of the world was currently at war and needed his services as a munitions consultant.
She switched off the television and turned off the lights as she left the living room to walk down the hallway to her bedroom. A lamp glowed softly on the bedside table, casting shadows into the corners of the comfortable room. Jessie loved her little house and had spent hours sanding woodwork, painting walls and making it uniquely hers. The rest of the house reflected the reality that a three-year-old boy lived here but this room was her sanctuary. Here, she’d indulged herself with pale green silk curtains that matched the spread and pillow shams on the walnut four-poster bed. The bed had been her great-grandmother’s and, like the matching nightstands, bureau and oval mirror, its polished surface gleamed with years of loving care.
The quiet surroundings had always had the power to soothe and relax her but tonight the room didn’t calm her worries about Rowdy and Zach. Even after she’d showered, dressed in a cotton tank top and loose pajama bottoms, climbed into bed and switched off the lamp, her mind continued to whirl with all the possible ramifications of Zach’s return to Wolf Creek.
When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of Zach and the first time he’d come to her rescue. It was during the summer she was ten and he was already a tall, lanky teenager of fifteen….
The first summer after her grandfather died seemed longer and hotter than usual. Jessie and her best friend, Sarah, tried to keep cool by swimming in the stock pond and spending Saturday afternoons in the air-conditioned theater.
Following a movie one Saturday, Jessie and Sarah stopped at Muller’s Candy Shoppe before meeting Sarah’s mother at the library. They were contemplating a purchase when the string of bells hanging on the door jingled loudly and two teenage boys entered the nearly empty store.
“Well, well, if it isn’t a McCloud. Heard from your convict brother lately?”
Jessie stiffened at the jeering tone in Lonnie Kerrigan’s voice. Determined to ignore him, she resolutely stared at the glass case and the rainbow display of saltwater toffee inside. She wished Mr. Muller hadn’t stepped into the back room. The bell she could use to call him back was located at the far end of the counter by the cash register, too far away for her to reach.
“What’s the matter, kid? Cat got your tongue?”
He brushed past her, bumping her in the process.
“Don’t pay any attention to him, Jessie,” Sarah urged.
Jessie glanced sideways and saw that her friend’s eyes were fearful as she watched the blocky teenager on Jessie’s other side.
“Yeah, kid. Don’t pay any attention to me.” Lonnie leaned against the candy display, grinning with malicious enjoyment at Sarah’s concern.
“I won’t,” Jessie said, filled with hate and loathing for the bully. “You’re not worth it.”
“Is that right?” She heard the sneer in his voice. “All you McClouds are the same. You’re a little young, but I’m sure it won’t be long before your brother Luke joins Chase in jail.” He waved expansively at the interior of the candy shop. “I’m surprised you’re allowed in here without supervision. Wonder if Mr. Muller knows he’s got a future criminal in his store?”
Goaded beyond endurance, Jessie turned to face him, furious. “You’re a pig, Lonnie Kerrigan. You should be in jail, not Chase. You’re the criminal—you and your whole family!”
She glared up at him, daring him to do anything about her harsh words. At ten, she was several feet shorter than the seventeen-year-old and he outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds. She didn’t care. Three months earlier, she’d watched as Chase was handcuffed and driven away from their grandfather’s funeral in a police car. She blamed Lonnie for her brother’s absence and she hated him with a depth and passion she’d never before felt in her short life.
A blond teenage girl standing near the door giggled at Jessie’s words and Lonnie flushed, his eyes narrowing. He stepped closer, bending toward Jessie.
“You little bitch.”
Her mother would have washed his mouth out with soap for using that word. Jessie stuck out her chin and refused to back down.
He grabbed her arm and twisted. The pain was excruciating but Jessie wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Instead, she glared harder, blinking back tears.
“Let her go.”
Lonnie’s gaze left hers and he looked over her head at someone behind her. His mouth tightened before he sneered again. “Stay out of it, Zach. This is none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business. She’s just a kid. Let her go.”
“You taking her place?”
“If I have to.”
Lonnie laughed and his grip loosened. He pushed Jessie and she stumbled sideways against the glass display case.
“Hey, none of that in here! You two take it outside if you have to fight,” Mr. Muller said firmly.
Jessie glanced over her shoulder. The gray-haired, heavyset owner of the store left the doorway to the back room and leaned over the counter, frowning at Lonnie and Zach.
“Yeah, yeah,” Lonnie snarled. “We’re goin’.”
Zach spun on his heel and stalked out of the shop, followed by Lonnie, his friend and the two teenage girls.
“Come on.” Jessie grabbed Sarah by the hand and pulled her across the room and out the door in time to see the teenagers disappear into the alley. She and Sarah ran to the corner of the building and stopped, peering around the edge.
Lonnie was taller, heavier and had a longer reach than his younger cousin, who at fifteen was still rangy with lighter muscle on his fast-growing body. Within minutes, blood was oozing from Zach’s nose and welling from a cut on his lip, his right eye was red and bruised. He didn’t stop, however, and no matter how many times Lonnie knocked him down, he got up and kept swinging. By the time a police officer, probably called by Mr. Muller, arrived to break up the fight, both boys were bleeding from their faces and knuckles. Their white T-shirts were ripped, smeared with dirt and stained with blood spatters.
“Wow, Jessie,” Sarah said in awe as the policeman marched the battered combatants down the street toward the police station. “He stood up for you and made Lonnie leave you alone. Why did he do that?”
“I don’t know. He’s a Kerrigan. He probably just likes to get into fights and beat up people.” Jessie was pleased that her voice sounded unconcerned and dismissive. But she was secretly amazed that Zach Kerrigan had kept Lonnie from hurting her. Why? Could he possibly dislike Lonnie and his bullying as much as she did?
Jessie woke, struggling through clinging shreds of sleep and dreams. She sat up, rubbing her hands over her face in an effort to clear away the images of her ten-year-old self watching Zach fight Lonnie in the dust of the alley behind Muller’s Candy Shoppe.
The residue of half-remembered conflicted emotions churned, accompanied by the memory of Zach’s battered face on that long-ago afternoon.
Had he saved her that day because he was being kind to a child being bullied? Or had he simply taken advantage of an excuse to fight Lonnie? It was no secret that the Kerrigans often exploded into physical violence.
She tipped the bedside clock so she could read the time.
“Two o’clock? Ugh.” She lay down, punching her pillow. She had to be at the office by seven and made a mental note to brew extra-strong coffee in the morning.
Chapter Two
Zach Kerrigan slid out of the booth in the back of the coffee shop and stood, settling his straw cowboy hat on his head as he walked to the front of the restaurant. He’d been absent from Wolf Creek for years but several ranchers seated at the booths and tables nodded hello as he passed. He returned the silent greeting, recognizing a few of the older men.
He stopped at the front counter, waiting for the waitress who’d served him to hurry forward. She stepped behind the cash register and he handed her his check and several bills.
“Keep the change.”
“Thanks.” She flashed him a quick, appreciative smile. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”
“Not exactly,” he drawled. “I grew up here.”
“Really?” She cocked her head, eyeing him curiously. “Why haven’t I seen you in the restaurant before?”
“I’ve been away.” Zach slipped his wallet into his jeans’ back pocket, glancing sideways as the door opened.
The woman who stepped over the threshold was young, her slim shape clothed in a conservative cream business suit. Her face was turned away from him as she spoke to the man behind her, giving Zach a view of deep auburn hair and the pure lines of her profile.
His memories of Jessie McCloud were vivid and powerful but the woman in front of him was even more beautiful than he’d remembered. A slam of pure longing, lust and need rocked him. He’d expected the lust. The instant ache of yearning need stunned him.
She laughed at a low-voiced comment from the older man and turned, taking two steps into the café before her gaze met Zach’s and she abruptly halted.
Her eyes widened and her face paled. Emotions moved swiftly across her expressive features—shock and stunned surprise, quickly followed by a brief glimpse of what Zach thought was raw pain. Then her eyes shuttered and her face smoothed, concealing what she’d just revealed as effectively as if she’d drawn a curtain closed.
“Zach.” The faint inclination of her head was polite, her voice cool and distant.
“Jessie.” He touched the brim of his hat, his gaze flicking to the elderly man standing at her elbow. He didn’t recognize him, but the Stetson, jeans and boots he wore marked him as a rancher.
The man nodded politely. In the moment it took for Zach to nod in response and return his attention to Jessie, she’d walked away from him toward the back of the café.
Ignoring the curious glance from the man with her, Zach left the café. He strode down the sidewalk toward the feed store, oblivious to the people he passed and the sound of traffic on the street.
He’d thought about Jessie more often than he cared to admit during the last four years, and in the weeks since he’d returned to Wolf Creek, she’d haunted his dreams every night.
He hadn’t expected her to welcome him with open arms, but neither had he thought she’d turn and walk away as if she hated the sight of him.
“Zach!”
He looked up and cursed silently. Harlan Kerrigan stepped out of his office and stood only yards in front of him. Zach, not yet ready to deal with his uncle, had ignored the messages Harlan had left on his answering machine. He still didn’t want to talk to the man.
But he closed the distance between them. “Afternoon, Harlan.”
“Afternoon, Zach. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“Sorry, I’ve got a sick horse I have to check on. Maybe some other time.”
Harlan’s mouth tightened, his ruddy complexion darkening. His eyes reflected his annoyance but he surprised Zach when he didn’t insist. “Let’s make it soon.”
Zach nodded and went his way.
What the hell is Harlan up to? It wasn’t like him to give up easily. Zach made a mental note to ask his mother and sister if Harlan had approached either of them and if he had, what he’d wanted from them.
Seated in a booth in the café, Jessie reined in her emotions, slammed them into a locked corner of her mind and focused on lunch. Ed Sanders was an old friend of her father’s and when he’d called her office for an appointment to update his will, she’d been delighted. They finished his legal work just before noon and his offer to buy her lunch was a welcome diversion. She hadn’t given a thought to the possibility of running into Zach.
So she’d been totally unprepared when she did. The shock and heartache that followed had nearly paralyzed her. The only response she could manage was a brief greeting followed by a swift escape to the back of the café.
She managed to chat and laugh at Ed’s jokes but when she returned to her office after lunch, she had no clear memory of their conversation.
“Hi, Jessie.” Tina, the single mother of three who expertly ran the business side of Jessie’s law office, looked up and smiled when Jessie entered. “How was lunch?”
“Fine.” Jessie murmured her thanks when Tina handed her several pink phone message slips. She glanced quickly through them. “The Auditor’s Office didn’t call back with the information on Dad’s title search?”
“Not yet. Would you like me to check with them again?”
“That would be great, thanks, Tina.” Jessie was legal counsel for McCloud Enterprises and the work often involved property acquisitions. The latest negotiation for a thousand acres of ranchland was proving tricky due to a potential clouded title issue. Her father was impatient to finalize the deal and she wanted the situation resolved as quickly as possible.
Tina picked up the phone and dialed as Jessie crossed the reception area and walked into her office, closing the door behind her. She dropped the message slips on her desk and sat in the comfortable leather chair, pulling open a bottom desk drawer to slip her purse inside.
Alone, behind the closed door, at last she allowed herself to think about her encounter with Zach.
He seemed the same, yet somehow different. The moment she’d turned and looked into his eyes, she’d been blindsided by the emotions that roared through her.
Why am I not over him? She closed her eyes, but the vivid image of Zach standing in the sunlit café was seared on the inside of her lids.
He’d worn a straw cowboy hat tugged low over his brow, his black hair long enough in back to curl against the collar of a blue chambray work shirt. Clean faded Levi’s hugged the length of his long legs, a worn black leather belt threaded through the belt loops and black cowboy boots covered his feet.
His eyes were dark gold, carbon copies of Rowdy’s. But while Rowdy’s were filled with innocence and mischief, Zach’s were unreadable beneath the arch of dark brows. He was deeply tanned, his skin a darker brown than her father’s and brothers’, who spent long hours outdoors and Jessie wondered if he’d been called home from some far-off desert country.
She’d almost forgotten how big he was, or maybe she’d blocked the memory from her mind. She’d felt tiny looking up at him, even in the high-heeled shoes she wore. He was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and chest, powerful arms and a narrow waist.
And he still had that seductive scent that could only be described as male. Whatever the elusive scent was, she’d felt its impact in the café, even though she’d stood four feet away from him.
Dear God. She raised trembling fingers to her lips. I can’t have feelings for him. I can’t.
The intercom buzzed and she drew a deep breath, willing her voice not to quaver. “Yes, Tina?”
“I’ve just received the trust fund data for the Michaelson Estate. Would you like me to bring you the file?”
“Yes, please.” Jessie quickly smoothed her fingertips over her lashes and down her cheeks to erase any evidence of tears, and picked up a pen.
By three that afternoon she closed the file atop her desk in frustration, unable to concentrate. Pleading a headache, she asked Tina to cancel her four-thirty appointment, left the office and went home to change out of her suit and heels and into cool green shorts. She pulled a white tank top over her head, slipped her feet into leather sandals, and collected Rowdy from next-door neighbor Mabel Harris’s loving care before escaping town to drive to her parents’ ranch.
The one place on earth she could be assured she wouldn’t see Zach Kerrigan was on McCloud land. A less self-assured person might call the visit to her parents blatant hiding. Jessie preferred to call it strategic maneuvering.
Chapter Three
Wolf Creek was a small town. Fifteen minutes after backing out of her garage, Jessie was driving north through open ranchland, the paved two-lane road she traveled lined on each side with barbed wire fences. On the far side of the fences lay mile after mile of open pasture and flat-topped buttes. The land was dotted with grey-green sagebrush while swathes of verdant brush and trees followed the winding path of an occasional creek. Cattle and horses grazed or plodded along narrow tracks, marking the landscape with their brown, white and black coats.
The afternoon sun poured through the SUV’s windows and Jessie switched off the air-conditioning, opting to roll down the windows of her four-wheel-drive Chevy Tahoe and let the sage-scented wind tangle her hair.
“Whee.”
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Rowdy laughed, his face crinkled with delight, eyes narrowed against the sweep of wind, his hair blowing straight back from his forehead. A rush of amusement and love rolled over her. Despite the changes he’d caused in her life, she’d never regretted for an instant that he’d been born. From the moment she’d learned she was pregnant, her son had become the focus of her world. He enriched each day with a depth of quiet joy she’d never known before.
She popped a classic rock CD, one of Rowdy’s favorites, into the stereo and turned up the volume. Within seconds “Ruby Tuesday” by the Rolling Stones filled the SUV and Rowdy sang along, his voice warbling the higher notes as the big vehicle ate up the miles.
Fifteen miles from town, Jessie braked, slowing to turn onto a graveled lane and past a large mailbox set solidly atop a black metal post before she drove beneath the wrought-iron arch where scroll-work spelled out “McCloud Ranch.” Then she accelerated, dust billowing up behind her tires as she drove down the half-mile driveway toward the sprawl of buildings that made up the headquarters for her father and brothers’ ranching enterprises. The roadway curved between white-painted wood rail fences and horses lifted their heads to watch with curiosity as the SUV passed, their glossy hides gleaming under the hot sun.
Two big pickup trucks with the McCloud logo on the doors sat in front of the main horse barn and Jessie wondered if both her father and Chase were inside. She parked just outside the elaborate gate set into the wrought-iron fence surrounding her mother’s prized garden. Within the enclosure, the grass glowed a brilliant emerald green while dozens of rosebushes spilled crimson, pink, yellow and white blooms over the black metal of the fence in an extravagant display. A giant old maple tree stood in one corner of the yard, its thick branches shading one edge of the sprawling house and its deep porch, brushing against the windows of the second-story bedrooms.
A rottweiler rose and stretched lazily, barking twice in welcome as Jessie slid out from behind the wheel.
“Hey, Muttly.”
The big dog woofed again and sat, tongue lolling, his attention trained expectantly on her car.
As Jessie unhooked Rowdy from his car seat, her mother came out of the house and onto the porch, drying her hands on a dish towel.
“Jessie.” Pleasure filled her voice and was echoed in her wide smile. “What a nice surprise.”
“Hi, Mom.” Jessie swung Rowdy out of the SUV and leaned back in to collect her bag. By the time she closed the door, Rowdy had already unlatched the gate and was racing up the walk toward Margaret, arms outstretched, chortling with glee.
Jessie followed him, pulling the gate closed behind her, and laughed when Rowdy dashed up the shallow steps to fling himself at his grandmother. Margaret caught him, swung him off his feet and hugged him tight before setting him down to be greeted by Muttly. The big dog and the little boy were equally overjoyed to see each other and Rowdy threw his arms around the dog’s neck. With Muttly sitting and Rowdy standing, they were nose-to-nose and Muttly licked the little boy’s face in response to his exuberant hug.
“Muttly, stop that,” Jessie protested.
Margaret grinned and bent to wipe Rowdy’s face with the damp towel she held. Rowdy twisted away from her, intent on petting the dog.
“Come inside and we’ll wash your face, Rowdy.” Margaret pulled open the screen door and Jessie followed Rowdy and Muttly into the cool interior. The four of them trooped across the tiled foyer and turned left, bypassing the spacious wood-paneled living room with its leather sofas, thick wool rugs and Remington artwork, and followed the hallway to the airy kitchen.
On the far side of the room, sunshine poured through the windows of the dining alcove that looked out on the back garden. Jessie crossed to the sink, dampened a towel and squirted liquid soap onto it. “Come here, Rowdy. Let’s clean you up so Grammy can give you a cookie and a glass of milk.”
“I want soda,” he said hopefully, his words muffled beneath the cloth Jessie was scrubbing over his face.
“Milk,” Jessie said firmly. “Have your uncles been giving you soda?”
“Not today.” Rowdy smiled angelically and clattered across the kitchen to pull out a chair at the table and clamber onto it. Muttly immediately lay down beside him.
“Men,” Jessie grumbled under her breath.
“I’ll second that,” Margaret said wryly. She opened the refrigerator, took out a carton of milk and poured some into a plastic glass that had a red-and-blue image of Spider-Man on one side.
“What’s Dad done this time?” Jessie asked as she took a plate from the cupboard and collected three oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies from the vintage Dumbo cookie jar on the counter.
“He bought another airplane.”
“Another one?” Jessie set the cookies and milk on the table in front of Rowdy and returned to lean against the counter. “Why does he need another plane?”
“He didn’t say he needed it, exactly. He told me he thought it was wise to have a backup since the Cessna is fifteen years old.” Margaret rolled her eyes before returning the milk to the refrigerator and taking out a frosty pitcher of tea.
“That doesn’t sound totally unreasonable,” Jessie said, turning to take two tall glasses from the cupboard behind her. She knew next to nothing about airplanes but her father’s favorite hobby was flying and lately he’d been interested in a smaller plane a neighbor was using to dust crops. A sudden thought occurred to her and she looked at her mother. “Uh-oh. Did he buy this plane from Jack?”
Margaret nodded.
“But Jack’s plane only has room for two or three people. What’s Dad going to do with it?” Jessie carried the glasses to the table and returned for a plate of cookies.
“He says he’s going to use it to dust the oats and rye fields down in the basin.”
“Grandpa’s dusting fields?” Rowdy’s eyes were round with awe. “Like you dust, Mom? How does he do that?”
“No, hon.” Jessie walked behind him, ruffling his hair, and took a seat at the oblong table. “It isn’t like dusting furniture. When a pilot dusts fields, he flies his plane low over the ground and releases pesticide dust to kill the bad bugs that might harm the crops growing there.”
“What’s a pesty-side?”
“A pesticide is sort of like medicine for the crops to keep them from getting sick.”
“Oh.” Rowdy drained his milk. “Where’s ’lizabeth, Grammy?”
“She went to town with George to buy groceries,” Margaret replied.
Apparently satisfied that the McCloud family cook, whom he adored, wasn’t available, Rowdy hopped down from the table. “Can Muttly and me go outside and play now?”
“Yes—but stay inside the fence and don’t leave Grammy’s yard,” Jessie called after him when he raced for the door.
“I won’t,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled open the glass door and bounded out with the rottweiler beside him.
“What I wouldn’t give for some of his energy,” Margaret said, smiling fondly as she watched boy and dog race off across the grass.
“Me, too.” Jessie took a bite of cookie, grinning when Muttly returned a thrown stick and bowled Rowdy over before he popped up, laughing, to cast the stick again. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
“Of course. And perfect, too,” Margaret stirred her iced tea and chuckled at the sight of Rowdy and Muttly playing fetch. “He’s my grandson.”
“Not that you’re prejudiced or anything,” Jessie said wryly.
“Of course not.” Margaret sipped her tea, took a bite of cookie and chewed, her eyes narrowing with consideration. “I wonder how soon Luke and Rachel will have children? Have they said anything to you?”
“Not a word. But the ink is barely dry on their wedding license, Mom.”
“I know.” Margaret sighed wistfully. “It’s so much fun having little ones in the family, I’m hoping they’ll decide to have children sooner rather than later.”
“Rowdy would certainly love it if they did. He’s always asking me why his friend Cody has two brothers while he doesn’t have even one.”
“And what do you tell him?”
Jessie shrugged. “That he has two uncles and Cody doesn’t have any so if he’ll share Chase and Luke with Cody, maybe Cody will share his brothers with Rowdy.”
“And he thinks that’s a good solution?”
“He says Cody should share his brothers but he’s reluctant to agree to sharing his uncles.”
Margaret laughed out loud. “Sounds like a McCloud.”
“Yes,” Jessie agreed. “That it does.”
“Speaking of brothers, Luke told your father that Rachel’s brother, Zach, has returned to deal with the property he inherited from his grandfather. I think Rachel and Judith plan to combine their acres with his and he’ll manage all of the ranches together.”
Jessie flinched inwardly at the mention of Zach’s name but answered with relative calm. “I know, I heard the rumor in town and Rachel confirmed it.”
“Did she say if he’s here permanently?”
“I don’t think she knows for sure although she did say she hopes he’ll stay.” Jessie’s gaze followed Rowdy and Muttly as they wrestled and rolled on the lawn outside. “Her mom has the house in town and now that Rachel and Luke are living in his house, Rachel seems relieved to have her brother on-site.”
“That makes sense. I don’t know much about Zach except that he and Luke were involved in a few fistfights during high school. And he’s a Kerrigan, of course, which automatically makes me distrust him. For all I know, he could be as bad as his uncle and cousin.”
“You don’t think there’s a chance he might be more like Rachel?”
“It’s possible, I suppose.” Margaret’s expression turned thoughtful as she considered Jessie’s words. “But not very likely, given Zach grew up living in the same house as his grandfather and his Uncle Harlan. Zach’s dad died when he was quite young and he had only Harlan and his grandfather as male role models. Boys tend to grow up to be a lot like their fathers, or in Zach’s case, substitute fathers.”
“I know.” Jessie stared at Rowdy, chasing Muttly on the lawn outside the big kitchen window. “And I can’t help but wonder how that inescapable truth will impact Rowdy, growing up as he is without a father in his life.”
Margaret was silent for a moment, then she leaned across the table and covered Jessie’s hand with hers. “First of all, Rowdy has wonderful role models in both your brothers and your dad. Are you considering searching for Rowdy’s biological father to tell him he has a son?”
“Do you think I should contact Rowdy’s father?”
“I thought he should have been informed as soon as you found out you were pregnant. I know you had your reasons for concocting a fake marriage to explain your pregnancy to the family. However, unless Rowdy’s father was an ax murderer or something equally bad, I think he should be told. Not just for his sake, but also for Rowdy’s.” Margaret paused, her gaze searching Jessie’s. “Has something changed? Are you seriously thinking of trying to find Rowdy’s father?”
Jessie looked down at her mother’s hand over hers. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, lie to her but neither was she ready to tell her the entire, complicated truth. “Let’s just say I’m wondering whether it’s possible, or fair, to keep Rowdy from his father forever.”
“Hmm,” Margaret murmured. “Is this man someone who would want a son?”
“We never discussed children or our views on being parents,” Jessie said truthfully. “So I don’t have any hard evidence to believe he wouldn’t want to be involved in Rowdy’s life.”
“So you are considering contacting him?”
“Yes.”
“Why now?”
A frisson of alarm shivered up Jessie’s spine. She didn’t want her mother to guess the truth about Rowdy and Zach before she was ready to explain. “What do you mean?”
“Did Rowdy say something to make you question your decision to keep his father out of his life?”
“I didn’t exactly decide to keep his father out of his life forever, Mom. Contacting him before Rowdy was born would have been possible but given his work and where he lived, it would have been beyond difficult to work out any kind of visitation,” Jessie said. “But Rowdy’s questions about Cody and his siblings did raise the next obvious question for me—what will I say when Rowdy asks me why he doesn’t have a daddy in the house like Cody has.”
Margaret nodded in sympathetic agreement. “He’s bound to ask, I suppose. He’s at the age where he’s becoming more aware of his surroundings, and family is a big part of his life. His own family, plus the families of his little friends, are the people he spends the most time with so it’s logical that his greatest curiosity centers around siblings, daddies and mommies.”
Jessie sighed. “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. Yesterday he asked me why Cody’s mommy lets him have hot dogs for lunch and I spent fifteen minutes trying to explain why a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is more nutritious.”
Margaret laughed, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
The sound of boots on tile interrupted them and Jessie glanced over her shoulder as her father walked through the hall archway and into the kitchen, followed by her oldest brother. The men were both well over six feet tall, and Chase’s black hair, light-blue eyes and handsome face was just a younger version of his father’s.
“Hi, Jessie.” John McCloud’s deep voice echoed the smile that lit up his weathered face. He crossed the room and bent to drop a kiss on her forehead before pulling out a chair. “Where’s Rowdy?”
“Outside, playing with Muttly,” Jessie said as her dad dropped into a chair next to Margaret.
John looked out the window, a grin curving his mouth at the sight of his grandson and the big dog together on the lawn.
“Are you drinking coffee or iced tea, Dad?” Chase’s voice was faintly gravelly but had the same deep timbre as his father’s.
“I think I’ll have cold tea.” He looked at his wife and shook his head. “It’s too damned hot outside for coffee.”
“John, no swearing.”
Jessie smiled at her mother’s automatic response and her father’s swift grimace.
“Sorry, hon.”
“What are you doing away from your office in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, Jess? Playing hooky?” Chase set a tall glass half-filled with ice in front of his father and an identical glass at an empty spot next to Jessie. He pulled out the chair and sat down before reaching for the pitcher of cold tea.
Jessie shrugged. “I decided it was too nice a day to spend inside a stuffy office. One of the perks of being self-employed.”
“True.” He deftly swiped the remaining cookie from her plate and took a bite.
“Hey. That’s mine.”
“Not now it isn’t.” He grinned at her and popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth.
Jessie frowned at him, shrugged and turned to her father. “Mom told me you have a new plane, Dad.”
John’s eyes lit up. “Yeah.” He launched into details while Jessie listened, nodding on occasion.
“Jessie,” Chase interrupted after several minutes, pointing out the window. “Did you tell Rowdy he and Muttly could dig a hole in Mom’s flower bed?”
“What?” Jessie followed his gaze and jumped up. “Oh, no! That boy…!”
The three left sitting at the table watched her run out of the kitchen and dash across the lawn to where Rowdy and the big dog were industriously removing rich soil from the flower bed to make a dark pile on the green grass.
“He reminds me of you at that age, Chase,” Margaret commented, laughing out loud when Rowdy looked up and grinned angelically at Jessie.
“You mean because he gets in trouble with his mother too often?” A rare smile curved Chase’s mouth before his eyes narrowed consideringly over the three outside. “Is everything okay with Jessie, Mom? It’s not like her to skip off work.”
Margaret sighed. “She’s worrying about Rowdy needing his father in his life.”
“Why the hell does he need his father?” Chase shot back, frowning. “The guy bailed on Jessie when she found out she was pregnant. That’s not the kind of responsible parent the kid needs.”
“You and Luke keep saying he abandoned her,” Margaret said. “But Jessie has told you repeatedly that she couldn’t reach him to tell him about Rowdy.”
“It’s all the same in the end, isn’t it? The bottom line is, the SOB didn’t make sure Jessie didn’t get pregnant. I’d like five minutes alone with him in a locked room. Ten minutes would be better.”
“If I ever find him, you’ll have to take a number and stand in line.” John McCloud’s face was set in hard lines.
“Men.” Margaret heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Why is it you all seem to think a fistfight will solve everything?”
“Not everything,” her husband corrected. “But sometimes, it can go a long way toward getting justice.”
“Who’s getting justice?” Jessie asked.
Chase looked over his shoulder. “Justice is the one thing everyone deserves.”
Jessie looked puzzled but Rowdy squirmed, tugging against her hold on his arm and distracting her. “Mommy, why do I have to wash my hands and face? I’ll just get dirty again when I go back outside to play with Muttly.”
“I’m sure you will. But before you get dirtier, we’re going to wash off the current layer of dirt. And what do you say to Grammy for digging in her flower bed?”
“I’m sorry, Grammy,” he said sweetly. “Don’t be mad at Muttly, either. We were looking for the bone he buried.”
“Muttly buried a bone in my flower bed?” Margaret asked, surprised. “How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“He did?”
John and Chase exchanged amused grins.
“Yup.” Rowdy nodded, his voice muffled as it disappeared under the damp washcloth. “Muttly talks to me a lot.”
“I see.”
All four adults hid smiles and listened with interest to Rowdy’s recital of prior conversations with the big dog.
Jessie spent the rest of the day at her parents’ house and finally drove home after seven that evening. She would have stayed longer but if Rowdy wasn’t in bed by eight o’clock he’d be tired and cranky throughout the following day.
There were no messages on her answering machine and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Don’t be silly, she chided herself. Did you expect Zach to call? He probably hasn’t given you a second thought since he boarded that plane nearly four years ago.
The idea didn’t console her and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved Zach hadn’t called, or disappointed that he hadn’t immediately tried to contact her. She decided to ignore the niggle of disappointment and told herself she was glad he hadn’t left a message.
Two days later, Jessie was halfway between town and her parents’ ranch, on her way to pick up Rowdy after work, when her cell phone rang.
She rummaged in her bag on the passenger seat beside her, found her phone, glanced at the caller ID and smiled as she lifted it to her ear.
“Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“Jessie, I’m glad I caught you before you drove all the way out here. I wanted to let you know that Rowdy isn’t here.”
“He’s not? Where is he?”
“Luke and Rachel were by this afternoon and took him back to their house to show him the new miniature horse Luke gave Rachel.”
Apprehension filled Jessie but she chatted with her mother for a few more minutes before hanging up as she neared the turnoff for Luke’s ranch. She sped down the lane to the cluster of buildings that made up the headquarters of McCloud Ranch Number 6. A strange pickup sat on the far side of Rachel’s car, and Jessie’s nerves stretched tighter, fluttering with foreboding.
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