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Del looked down at him, his eyes serious. “And who are you now? A forty year old cowboy, sitting on a porch trying to figure his life out. Maybe you should try the talking thing. Just once.”

Goddamn Hound and his man, anyway. Jake dropped his boot to the porch with a thump, letting Del go.

“Jake? Do me a favor?” Del asked, his hand on the door handle.

“Yeah?”

“Kevin’s gonna be twenty–eight next month. Think you can stop calling him ‘kid’?

Drives him nuts.”

Jake threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah. I can do that.”

~*~*~

Missy and Chris were the final straw.

Three days after Hound and Del left, Jake went up to the barn to find Chris mucking out the stalls. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and every muscle in his back was tight and rigid.

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“Hey, Chris,” Jake said mildly, standing back to watch. For all that Chris said he wasn’t made to work on a ranch he knew what he was doing. Quickly and efficiently he cleaned out the stall and got new bedding ready for Shelby before moving on to the next one. His only greeting to Jake was a nod and then he turned himself back to his work.

His unnecessary work. Chris was the Boss’s son–in–law, and his involvement with the ranch usually stopped at the bookkeeping. The man had a day job, and plans to move off the land; Jake didn’t think he’d ever seen Chris doing stall work before.

“Everything okay?” Jake asked, still watching.

“Nope. But it will be.” Chris stood up and wiped sweat off his forehead. “Just having a difference of opinion with Missy. Damn, but that woman is stubborn.”

Jake had to smile. “Always has been. Known her since she was a kid, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone change her mind more than a handful of times.”

Chris rolled his eyes and started shovelling horseshit. “Yeah, well. This time she’s going to listen to me.”

Jake snickered without meaning to. “When you get ready to tell her that give the rest of us a warning, yeah? Don’t want to be anywhere in range.”

Chris threw him a look and frowned. “Jesus, do I look like an idiot? What do you think I’m doing out here?” Chris scraped the shovel on the stall floor and added, “This is just the cool down phase. The actual talking part comes later, when we’re calm enough that no one will actually shed blood.”

And there it was. Again.

Jake bit the inside of his cheek and finally gave in. “So, you two always work shit out when you fight? You don’t just…let it go and move on?”

Chris didn’t even look up, thank Christ. “Well, yeah, I guess. Stuff builds up if you don’t get it cleaned up right the first time. Not unlike this mess, so if you don’t want to wind up with crap on your boots, I suggest you move.”

Jake moved. And then he got River’s tack out and saddled up. He always thought better if he was on horseback.

The trouble was, he figured, that he’d not seen a decent relationship before at close range.

He’d had lovers before Tor, and a few guys he could best call mistakes, but no one he’d really cared about. His parents had gone for the long silences and hatred approach to fighting. And he’d honestly thought that as long as they weren’t actively fighting things were okay.

God, he was such an idiot.

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Tor hadn’t been much better; his father hadn’t been around, so chances were any fights he’d witnessed between his parents were dim memories, and Kin had died. Jake had no idea what Tor’s relationships after Kin had been like, but he was pretty sure there hadn’t been anyone serious. Toss in the fact that neither of them were given to long talks about anything emotional, and it wasn’t a huge surprise that they’d gotten themselves all messed up.

The rest of it, though, was harder.

Jake rode River to the only place he wanted to be while he sorted this out. The only place he really could be for this. He’d long given up doing any serious thinking about Tor anywhere but in bed at night, when the darkness was like a blanket, or out in the meadow where no one would hear him.

It was different this time. He didn’t even dismount, just let River walk and graze. Jake looked around, his eyes mostly unseeing; all he could smell was sweet grass and River, sunshine and his own sweat. He set his hat back on his forehead and forced himself to think.

Three hours later he scrubbed at his face and tried to put himself back together. He had no idea if he’d made the right choice or not, but he’d at least thought about everything again, gone over it and over it, and narrowed down a few things.

Decision made, he rode back to the ranch.

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Chapter Forty-three

Jake had no idea where Tor was, but he knew how to find out. Tor still needed money, still needed to work, but no matter where he was he’d have kept in close touch with his sister. Jake rummaged around his room until he found his address book and steeled himself to call her, still not sure he wanted to talk to Tor. But he did know he wanted to find him.

The only trouble was that there wasn’t any answer when he called Becky. He let the phone ring about six times, finally giving up and cursing the fact that she appeared not to have an answering machine.

He told himself that it was Friday night and they’d probably gone to the movies or something, and he’d get a hold of her the next day.

He called on Saturday morning, and again late in the afternoon, letting the phone ring for as long as he could stand it. He knew Susie would have school on Monday, but now that he’d made up his mind to at least locate Tor he hated the delay. Just typical of his life that he’d pick the one weekend they seemed to be out of town.

He called three times on Sunday, just on the off chance Becky and Susie would be home.

When he called at ten Sunday night and let the phone ring thirteen times he knew he’d have trouble sleeping. It was just so damn frustrating. Five months since Tor’d left and Jake was turning himself inside out, not willing to wait even a few more days to start tracking him down.

Sometimes Jake wondered what had happened to his nice calm life, the times when all he cared about were the horses and the cattle. Then he remembered and itched to call Becky again.

On Monday evening he rushed Kirk and Elias through supper, just wanting them out of the kitchen so he could call Becky as soon as the dishes were done. He was up to his elbows in soapsuds when the phone rang, and he grabbed a dish towel while Elias answered. It wasn’t the right night for Elias’s family to be calling, and Kirk did all the calling to his folks, so Jake assumed it was the Boss.

Elias held the receiver out to him and covered the mouthpiece. “Think it’s your sister,” he said as Jake took the phone.

“’Lissa?” Jake said, pulling out a chair.

“No,” a familiar, if tired, voice said. “Becky. How are you, Jake?”

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Jake sat down harder than he’d intended, hitting his tailbone on the back of the chair. He managed not to cuss simply by being too surprised to manage it. “I...I’m fine, Becky.

Been trying to reach you all weekend, actually.”

“Really?” Becky sounded more distracted than interested in knowing why. Before Jake could really have time to wonder why, she went on, speaking quickly. “We’ve been living at the hospital since Wednesday. Jake, Momma died this morning.”

Jake’s chest tightened immediately, a wave of sorrow passing over him. “I’m real sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. He’d liked Maureen a great deal, and knowing how sick she’d been should have cushioned the blow, but it didn’t. “How’s Susie?”

“She’s tired. We all are.” Becky took an audible breath. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and he’ll probably kill me—”

“Where and when?” There wasn’t any hesitation on Jake’s part, and though a great deal of him knew that it was his new found urge to talk to Tor that spurred him on, he actually wanted to be there. He wanted to say goodbye, and he wanted to help. If Tor didn’t want him there…well, he’d just deal with that after the fact with as much grace as he could.

“Here, on Thursday. The church down the block from my place, Saint Paul’s. Do you remember it?”

“Yes.” Jake grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the times, making note of the nearest hotel and assuring Becky it wasn’t any trouble.

“I’m…I’m not going to tell him I called you,” she said softly. “I don’t know what happened with you two, but I can’t stand seeing him like this, Jake. He needs you.”

“I’ll be there.” Come hell or high water.

“Thank you, Jake.”

“Don’t. Not yet, anyway. Becky—”

“Yes?”

“She was a good woman.”

“She was. Thank you. See you soon.”

~*~*~

It hadn’t been any trouble getting time off work; the Boss was more than willing to let Jake go for a few days, and let him take the newest truck as well. The drive had been boring, with nothing special to take Jake’s thoughts away from where they inevitably strayed.

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The first decision Jake had made was that he wasn’t going to say anything to Tor about their relationship. It wasn’t the time, and it would be beyond cruel to let Maureen’s passing give him any sort of advantage. Tor would be hurting and at his most vulnerable; the most Jake intended to do was let Tor know he wanted to talk when Tor was feeling up to it.

The fact that he was scared shitless had little to do with it.

He’d headed out Wednesday night and spent Thursday morning sleeping and pacing, finally taking a shower and double-checking directions to the church. He didn’t want to get there late and risk being standing around outside when the family arrived. With any luck he’d get there in the middle of the crowd, and Tor wouldn’t even see him until after the service.

That much, at least, went according to plan. He was seated in the middle of the church, surrounded by people he didn’t know, when Becky, Tor and Susie finally entered and took their place at the front, along with two older women and a man Jake had never met.

The service was typical. There were hymns and prayers, and a woman who was apparently Maureen’s best friend from childhood on up gave a moving eulogy. Jake concentrated on the smell of the flowers and let the words flow over him. He had his own memories of Maureen to take comfort in.

The woman who’d hoped her son would eventually find a nice girl, but who knew love when she saw it. The woman who would fiercely defend her family from anything. The woman who refused to give in to pain and illness until she couldn’t fight it any longer.

He sat in the church and listened, his gaze straying more and more often to the family at the front. Susie had grown. Becky looked lost. Tor…well, Tor looked like hell. Worse than he’d ever looked before, he wore his exhaustion like it was part of his clothes, lines deeper around his eyes, shoulders bent.

When the minister referred to the family he called them Rebecca, Susan, and Mark, the names jarring and clashing in Jake’s head. He wanted to stand up and correct the man, even though Maureen had always called Tor by his right name. The rest just didn’t suit, weren’t the people he knew.

Finally it was done, and with sunlight streaming in the windows, the pallbearers rose to carry Maureen’s casket from the church, her family following. Tor didn’t look to either side of the centre aisle, didn’t see him.

Susie did, her eyes widening before she quickly stepped into place beside her mother.

When Jake left the church he was relieved to see that the casket was already in the hearse, the cars lined up to go to the cemetery. He’d feared a formal receiving line, and he’d not been sure how to slip away from it if there was one. But as he stood among the people
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leaving the church he could see Becky and Tor already in a limo with the older family members, ready to follow.

He asked the person next to him to confirm his directions and went to his truck to wait.

Again, he didn’t want to get there too early, wanted to be part of the background. He realized as he watched the cars leave that getting directions was a little pointless, and he just slid into line with the rest, following along and parking on a side street.

As he walked to the grave, silent among groups of people who knew each other, he became aware of the looks he was getting, people trying to place him. He was mildly uncomfortable as it was, feeling like he didn’t really have a right to be there, and dressed in clothes that weren’t his usual style, to say the least. Still, he knew he didn’t look out of place; his dress pants were tidy and almost new, his one good shirt was starched to within an inch of its life, and he had his good boots on. He’d even managed to get his tie on right, and his dinner jacket, while perhaps a little loose across the shoulders, was new enough to be in style.

He found a place under a tree, out of the way, and tried to ignore the looks. He knew they were just trying to figure out who he was, and he didn’t really feel like telling them.

Maureen was laid to rest quietly, her family gathered around her grave, the rest looking on silently as the minister said a final prayer for her and committed her to the Earth.

There were muffled sobs from various people, and Jake watched as Tor wrapped an arm around Becky’s shaking shoulders.

The wind rustled the leaves overhead, and carried the scent of the flowers to Jake.

After the casket was lowered Jake stood exactly where he was, hat in hand, and waited.

People more or less grouped around the family, some leaving and breaking off into groups before making their way to their cars, others hanging back and discussing who all was to go on to Becky’s house for the reception.

Jake watched Tor.

Tor didn’t look in his direction, far too busy with family and friends to spare a glance around him. That was fine by Jake; he just wanted to be there. Becky saw him, however, and managed a smile. She glanced at Tor and then back at Jake, a question in her eyes.

Jake shook his head, and she nodded, then someone was hugging her and he lost even that contact.

People left, slowly but surely. Jake stood and waited, not moving, not ready to go forward and put himself on the line. Not here, not yet, and goddamn he was scared. He didn’t want Tor to lose it, didn’t want to spark off rage and grief, didn’t want to be the source of any more pain.