A Family to Come Home To (Saddle Falls) (2 page)

Three months later
Saddle Falls, Nevada

J
esse was going home.

Steering his rental car out of the small but bustling Saddle Falls airport parking lot, he adjusted the side-and rearview mirrors, kicked up the air-conditioning, then slipped on his mirrored sunglasses before glancing down at the road map with the directions to the Ryan ranch.

Home.

Jesse shook his head as he eased into the flow of traffic leading out of the airport. He wasn’t even sure what
home
was anymore; hell, he wasn’t even sure who
he
was anymore.

From the moment of his mother’s death three months ago, his entire world had turned upside down. Everything he’d believed about himself and his life had been based on a lie; a lie, that now he was still trying to come to terms with.

Within days of burying his mother, he’d gone to see her lawyer to settle her estate. Still reeling from shock coupled with profound grief, he hadn’t known what to do or how to proceed with the information his mother had given him. But he’d made a deathbed promise to her and he’d never broken a promise to Grace—or to anyone—in his life. And he wasn’t about to start now, regardless of his own conflicted feelings.

So he’d explained the entire situation to the attorney, who’d offered to discreetly look into the matter for him. It had taken the man three days of research before he’d called with news—news Jesse wasn’t certain he was ready to hear.

The attorney believed he was really Jesse Ryan, youngest grandson of ranching patriarch Tommy Ryan of Saddle Falls, Nevada. Saddle Falls was a small but prosperous ranching community about two hours from Las Vegas. Twenty years earlier, at the age of five, Jesse Ryan, the youngest of Tommy Ryan’s four grandsons had been kidnapped from his own home while in the care of a nanny, never to be heard from again.

From everything the attorney had discovered, there were too many similarities to Grace’s story for Jesse to just dismiss the information. Needing additional confirmation, Jesse had decided to take that first frightening step by placing a call to Tommy Ryan.

Jesse sighed, remembering the conversation. He’d been stunned when the phone had been answered by a man with a definite Irish brogue. Quickly recovering, he’d simply explained who he was and that he was looking for his family—his real family—and had reason to believe he might be Jesse Ryan.

Although that first conversation was fraught with fear on Jesse’s part and, of course, a hint of suspicion on Tommy Ryan’s part, Jesse knew they both needed more information than could be shared by a simple phone call.

Braking for a stoplight, Jesse pulled out the first letter from Tommy that had arrived by overnight mail the morning after their initial phone conversation. He’d read and reread the letter so many times, it was now dog-eared.

With a sigh, Jesse blew out a frustrated breath. It hadn’t been difficult to read the pain and sorrow in Tommy’s words. Strangely, he’d felt the first flicker of emotion about the Ryans when he read Tommy’s letters. There was an odd tug deep in his heart, a connection that left him totally stunned and confused.

How could he feel a connection to a man he didn’t even know? A man who supposedly was his grandfather?

Jesse shook his head. It didn’t make any sense to him, but then again, not much in the past three months did.

Tommy’s letters had begun arriving without fail once a week. Tommy had done his best to fill Jesse in on the family he didn’t know and couldn’t remember. Tommy had told him about his three brothers—Jake, Jared and Josh—and included snapshots of them.

It wasn’t until Jesse saw the photos of his brothers that he felt an uncanny sense of recognition deep in the recesses of his memory and in his heart. With a few physical differences, including a few years and maybe a few pounds, looking at those pictures was like looking in a mirror, leaving Jesse feeling oddly disquieted.

Until those photos had arrived, he’d found all the information Tommy had sent him to be just words on paper, distinctly disjointed from who he was or what his life had been.

Or the man he was today.

But he had to admit, spooked or not, those pictures had changed something, touching a chord deep within him, so deep he wasn’t certain he was ready to acknowledge it quite yet.

And it also set off an uncomfortable, confusing mix of yearning somewhere in his heart, in a place he never even realized existed—until now.

Perhaps it was because it was the first time he consciously had to consider that perhaps he
was
indeed the missing Jesse Ryan.

And he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. Or how to come to terms with it.

He’d stared at those pictures for hours on end, desperately trying to remember them, to remember something—
anything
—from his early childhood—to no avail.

Feeling a roll of tension tighten his gut, Jesse thought once again that taking all of this in and absorbing it was just too much. Hell, just remembering the names of his brothers’ wives and assorted children without a scorecard was going to take some effort.

He had never felt very comfortable around a lot of people, so the thought of being part of such a large family was more than enough to give him pause, not to mention an easy reason for putting off this visit.

After three emotionally conflicting months, he’d decided he had no choice. For his own peace of mind, he had to find out the truth—about the Ryans and about himself.

After Tommy Ryan admitted he had checked out Jesse’s story and was convinced of his identity, Tommy had repeatedly extended an open-ended invitation for him to come home at any time.

Home.

How was he ever going to tell Tommy that he already had a home? Jesse wondered with a frown. Texas was his home, where he’d been nurtured, loved and cared for for as long as he could remember by the only mother—the only family—he’d ever wanted, needed or known?

He hadn’t a clue.

Late last night before he could change his mind, he’d called Tommy to tell him he was coming to Saddle Falls—this morning. Delighted, Tommy had laughed his deep, booming laugh and offered to send a plane for him, a car, anything he wanted or needed, but he’d steadfastly refused all of Tommy’s offers. He didn’t want anything from the Ryans.

He had no need for their money. While he certainly wasn’t rich, he was comfortable enough for his needs. He still had the ranch in Texas, and anything and everything else that he required. So there was nothing he wanted, needed or would accept from the Ryans.

Except perhaps a glimpse into who Jesse Ryan had been.

He was Jesse Garland.

Had been for as long as he could remember, and Jesse Garland was who he planned to stay, he thought firmly. He’d go to Saddle Falls, meet the Ryans and stay totally, emotionally detached.

It wouldn’t be difficult. He was both a loner and a rancher, used to being alone and comfortable with it. He dealt only with facts in his job, steadfastly remaining dispassionate about his men and his animals. He had to, otherwise every time he lost one, he’d be torn up inside. Not a very productive way to run a business.

So he planned to employ with the same detachment with the Ryans he used in his everyday life.

And hope like hell it worked.

Glancing in his rearview mirror before changing lanes to exit the ramp leading to Saddle Falls, Jesse checked the map on the seat next to him before making a right turn, trying to banish his thoughts.

He watched the scenery change as he drove until the busy streets turned into wide, winding country roads dotted with spots of greenery, palm trees and large ranches and farm buildings.

Saddle Falls had pretty scenery, with the top of Mount Charleston gleaming in his rearview mirror as well as a small-town feel to it. Not that much different from his own home in Southwind, Texas.

Glancing at the passing landscape, Jesse knew he wasn’t too far from the Ryan ranch, at least according to Tommy’s directions. Narrowing his gaze, Jesse slowed the car. A hint of recognition, some sense of having seen all this before, startled him.

He drove slower. He knew the Ryan’s ranch was nearby, right at the bottom of the upcoming hill—if he wasn’t mistaken.

But it was another house, an aged, sprawling two-story that caught his attention. The house was set on prime acreage, with a lot of land and outbuildings—abandoned now—surrounding it like weary guards on sentry duty.

But the once-glorious white clapboard structure was faded with age and sorely in need of some paint and tender loving care. Set far back from the road, with a long, winding driveway and a landscape of overgrown weeds and greenery, Jesse realized this house was familiar.

He
remembered
this house.

Stunned, he found himself hitting the brakes, straining his neck to get a better look. He knew in his heart he’d not only seen this house before but been inside it. He slipped off his sunglasses to get a better look.

Jesse frowned in thought, wondering how he knew that if he went up the now-sagging back porch, the third step would creak and that the door would open into a cramped mudroom that led directly into a long, sprawling kitchen with faded pine plank flooring.

In his mind’s eye he could clearly see the room; hear the slight creak of the third step. A shiver of awareness rippled over Jesse, chilling him in spite of the heat of the day.

He sat there in the car simply staring at the house, willing himself to remember. An image flashed through his mind. An image of a young towheaded girl running around the front of the house, laughing an infectious laugh that carried on the wind.

Hannah-Anna.

The name whispered through his mind.

Hannah-Anna.

Jesse closed his eyes and he saw her as if she were standing in front of him. A tiny little thing, all spindly arms and legs, bruised and scraped, with long, golden-blond hair that glinted like gold as it flared out behind her, blowing in the wind like a rambunctious flag.

His breath caught as his lids slowly opened. He had to blink several times to be certain he wasn’t hallucinating. The little girl he’d just seen in his mind’s eye was riding a bright pink-paisley bike with training wheels down the driveway right toward him. Some premonition or recognition swept over him, sending a flurry of emotions racing through him. It was as if this young girl had materialized right from his mind.

Who was she?

Hannah-Anna.

“You’re losing it, boy,” he muttered to himself, unable to drag his gaze away from the little girl. “Definitely losing it.”

He watched, unable to contain a smile as the child, who couldn’t be more than five or six, stood up on spindly legs to gather enough strength and weight to push the pedals of the almost-too-big-for-her bike, swinging her skinny little body from side to side with a fierce determination that belied her tiny size. Full of concentration, she was biting her lower lip in a way that reminded him of someone else. Who, he wasn’t certain.

Unable to drag his gaze away, Jesse pulled to the curb and merely watched the girl, feeling a distinct uneasiness.

He knew her.

But he hadn’t a clue who she was.
Had
known her, he realized dully. In some other time and place.

His heart constricted, then bumped once, twice as he watched the little girl almost lose her balance and fall.

“Lordy, little lady, if you’re not careful you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he muttered, watching as her adorable face screwed up in concentration and her oversize owlish glasses slipped down her nose.

He chuckled as she tried to push up her glasses and keep control of the bike while still pedaling. She might be small, but she was one fierce, determined female, he thought in admiration.

Like someone else he used to know.

Hannah-Anna.

The name whispered through his mind again and Jesse shook his head.

He had no idea who Hannah-Anna was.

But he damn sure was going to find out.

“Riley, honey, you stay on the driveway so Mama can see you, you hear?” Shielding her eyes from the intense afternoon sun, Hannah Grace Myers glanced over toward the wide expanse of driveway to make certain her daughter was still in view. “I’ll be done hanging out these clothes in a minute then we’ll have some ice cream before we go to work. Okay, honey?” Blowing a wisp of blond hair off her own forehead, Hannah swiped the back of her hand against her damp brow, then pulled a clothespin off the clothesline in order to hang the sheet she’d just pulled out of the wicker basket of freshly laundered linens.

“’kay, Mama,” came the sweet answer, making Hannah smile. At five, her towheaded angel was no bigger than a fairy with huge blue eyes, an upturned nose, delicate bones and small, fragile features.

“Then we’re gonna go to Uncle Tommy’s house to play, right?” Riley asked hopefully.

“Yes, honey.” Hannah paused to give her daughter all her attention. “Remember Mama explained to you that now, instead of working at the big bookstore in town, Mama’s going to work for Uncle Tommy. Do you remember?”

“Cooking, right?” Riley asked with a grin that revealed two missing front teeth.

Hannah laughed. “That’s right, honey, cooking. Mama’s going to be Uncle Tommy’s new cook,” she said with a hint of pride. It was a blessing that her godfather, Tommy Ryan, was sorely in need of a cook, and had hired her to do something she loved so much. She was finally going to be able to support herself and Riley and support them well.

“I ’member, mama,” Riley replied, struggling to turn her bike back around so she could tackle the long driveway again. Her daughter stopped midturn to glance back at her, her blue eyes shining in excitement. “And I get to go to work with you now, and play with Uncle Tommy, right, Mama?”