Love's Rescue (30 page)

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jess could hardly contain herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she had tasted lemonade! She took another sip. A long sip.

“You like it, then?”

Jess finally stopped to swallow and breathe. “It’s wonderful.”

“Good. We have two barrels of it.” He pushed himself to his feet and extended an arm out to her. “Care to see what else we’ve got?”

In response, Jess accepted his arm and was pulled to her feet.

Instead of escorting her out, Jake hesitated. “Are you all right now?”

“I am. Bennett?”

“Hmm?”

Despite her decision to hold herself to friendship, Jess felt her feelings for him teetering on a precipice. He was so warm, so near. If she reached out, she could touch him. But she knew what lay beyond that precipice: an inescapable love, a terrible dread, and eventual loss. Her heart threatened to tear inside her, but she knew she could bear it, as long as things between Jake and her remained as they were. She was still glad to be in his company. “Thanks.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled warmly. “My shirt was wet anyway.”

Jess lifted her hat from its peg and pulled it on.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

They walked out.

The yard was quickly filling with scampering Indian children, lighthearted adults, and the appealing scent of roasting pig. She and Jake looked on from the shade of the porch.

Jess saw Red Deer disappear into the cookhouse. Between that building and the smithy, a pig was sizzling on a giant spit; over the second fire, a side of beef was cooking. Ho Chen paused beside it to smile up at Jess, then returned to his work. Jess saw that each meat was held on a stout, iron crossbar that rested on Y-topped poles over a fire pit. She suspected Doyle had fashioned the giant iron skewers and poles.

Suddenly, she remembered that she had wanted Doyle to craft candleholders to light the cookhouse for the night of the Fourth. She went back inside, grabbed two handfuls of tapers from the candle box, and dashed down the stairs with a hasty “see you later” to Jake.

***

With a grin, Jake descended the stairs, pleased to see that Miss Hale wasn’t going to let a bump in the emotional road keep her down.

“Hey, Jake!”

“Jake?”

Half a dozen of his men were hurrying toward him. Were he to guess, he would bet the anticipation in their strides had something to do with the landmarks for the races. With a last look toward Jess, he went to join them.

***

Supper that night was served outdoors with everyone eating day-old biscuits and beans, groaning over the tantalizing aromas of the roasting meat. Sampling would have to wait until tomorrow, however.

Afterward, Seth and Reese talked Jess into a game of poker, and before long, seven more had joined their game. Jess had just accepted a fresh deck to shuffle when Jake sat down across from her with his mug of lemonade. He glanced around at the ranch hands who were about to play against her, as if doubting their good sense.

Jess shot him a questioning look. “Shall I deal you in?”

“Not me,” he said. He spoke loud enough for all to hear. “I know better. I’ve seen you play before.”

The other conversations fell silent, and all eyes turned to Jess. She curved her lips in a sweet smile and oozed her Southern charm. “Now the only reason I win is because y’all go easy on me because I’m a lady.” Her hands neatly parted the deck, and she shuffled fluidly, tapping the cards together with an abrupt snap. “You boys just play, and don’t worry yourselves none about my feelin’s.”

Then she dealt, sending cards flying around the table, precisely, one on top of the next.

Like a dealer in a saloon.

Several pairs of eyes turned warily to Jake.

He merely smiled, shrugged, and sipped his lemonade.

The Fourth of July dawned as one of the hottest days that summer—and one of the best. Jess was up at daybreak to water the garden, pleased with how well the plants were growing. The watering done, she took a walk by the creek, joyfully taking in the sights of mountains, blooming sage, and wildflowers. There were not as many wildflowers as there would have been if it had rained, she knew, but they were color and life, and somehow, they would survive.

And…God had put them there.

Jess breathed in, then let out a long, delighted sigh.

When I see things like this, Lord, I feel that You can’t be very far away at all. In fact, I see You everywhere. She looked off to the south. When I see the mountains, I feel Your love, because You didn’t put them there just for You to enjoy—You put them there for us! Out of Your great love for us! And these flowers… She bent down, sat back on her heels, and thrilled over a cluster of pink-petalled bitterroot. She passed a slim finger over a soft, narrow petal, lightly touching its fiery orange center. You made this. You decided how many petals it would have. You put it here. She turned to look up at the house. And You gave us the barn swallows…. Eight young ones were perched on the edge of the roof, trying their wings, impatient for their mothers to return with breakfast. And the butterflies… Jess smiled at the thought of her old nickname. And each day, You give us hope.

Jess stood up again, marveling that God had chosen these ways to show her His closeness. Through His creation. “Thank You, Lord,” she murmured.

All at once, a breeze broke the stillness of the desert and swept over her, stirring the hemline of her gown. Whispering.

Jess walked into it, filled with awe. The wind streamed through her hair, brushing the skin of her arms. A few moments later, it calmed and quieted.

It seemed as though the Lord had answered her.

And whether He truly had or not, Jess knew that He had heard her.

***

As the day unfolded, Jess watched the men participate in all the events they’d prepared for—the races, the “chicken” pull, the shooting—and the Paiutes even challenged the cattlemen to try their skills with bows and arrows. Ho Chen kept everyone happily fed from the pig and beef roasts, as well as with dried fruits and pies. Jess nearly teared up when she found out that he had prepared her mother’s favorite berry tarts, just for her.

There was the lemonade and a barrel of whiskey to quench everyone’s thirst, and sweetened pine-nut pudding for dessert, which the Paiute children especially loved.

After sundown, Seth jogged over to the bunkhouse to get his harmonica, and Taggart brought out the fiddle Jess had seen the morning she and Red Deer had removed everything from the bunkhouse. A man appeared with a banjo and another with a guitar, and together, the four musicians had the cookhouse floor trembling from the clapping hands, stomping boots, and whirling dancers.

The ranchmen had been thoughtful to remove their spurs beforehand.

Jess and the Paiute women laughed until they ached as one man after another unceremoniously grabbed them for a dance. The men were ready to cut loose, and they were full
of energy.

Jess lost count of how many times she had danced, and, gasping for breath when the latest song ended, she held up a hand when not one but three men stepped up to claim her for the next dance. “I need to sit one out,” she panted.

“Oh, but Miss Jess—”

“Lemonade?”

Jess glanced up just as Jake pressed a mug into her hand. She smiled gratefully and took a drink. Seeing that the three would-be dance partners were still crowding her expectantly, Jake shot them a wordless glare. They disappeared.

“Thanks,” she said, laughing softly. “I needed to be rescued.”

He bowed with a smile. “Glad to be of service, ma’am.”

Jess savored another sip, then slowly lowered her mug. “Now what is that look for?”

Jake took a drink from his own mug. “What look?”

“That look. That’s not your usual ranchman’s gaze.” Instead, she thought his eyes seemed warm, fervent.

Another song began. They stepped back to avoid the dancers. “Should I treat you the same as I treat the men?” he asked quietly.

“After all we’ve been through together, I suppose not,” she answered, suddenly not wanting to continue along those lines. “This has been a good day.” She sighed. “A good celebration.”

Jake smiled.

***

Looking down at her, Jake wished the music would slow. He wanted nothing more than to pull her close and to find a way to tell her that he loved her. He wanted her to know it was safe to love him back, to trust that he would take care of her. He wanted to tell her that he would not let anything hurt her again. But he knew that this time, this place—it wasn’t apt. Those things would come, he promised himself. Soon.

“The ranch fits me,” Jess said, surprising him with her admission. “I can’t imagine doing any other kind of work again.”

“And the folks here?”

She sipped her lemonade. “They seem to fit me, too,” she said, then looked away.

Reese whirled past, doing a jig. Then Taggart appeared before Jess, handing off his fiddle to someone else. “My heart’ll break, for sure,” he vowed, “if ye don’t dance with me just once.”

Playing along, Jess fluttered an imaginary fan. “I declare, that would be simply tragic.”

With that, Taggart abruptly handed her cup to a passing Seth, then pulled her into the swirling crowd.

Jake’s smile faded as he turned pensive once again. He set aside his own mug and stepped out into the evening air, his thoughts preoccupied with the most desirable dance partner—and life partner.

***

After two dances with Taggart, Jess took a break as the musicians paused for refreshments. Suddenly, a mysterious leather bag appeared. No one, not even the cattlemen, seemed to know where it had come from. When they opened it, they found, to everyone’s amazement, that it was filled with tiny playthings for the Paiute children—a multitude of animals carved from small pieces of wood.

The children’s eyes grew round while their parents exclaimed excitedly over the toys. Doyle knelt down by the bag and let each child choose an animal.

As Jess looked on, she recalled seeing Diaz carving wood in his spare time. She searched the crowd and finally saw him standing across the room, leaning his shoulder against the wall. His expression was passive as he surveyed the scene and took intermittent bites from one of Georgeanne McKinney Hale’s best-recipe tarts.

Jess made her way through the crowd and came to stand beside him, seeing the scene from his perspective. Diaz glanced at her and nodded, and she smiled. For several moments, neither spoke. At last, Jess said quietly, “I’ll see that your sack is returned to you.”

Diaz finished his last bite of tart and wiped his hands on his shirt. Keeping his eyes on the children, he asked softly, “What sack is this, mariposa?”

Jess looked at the happy families gathered in the center of the room. Two Hands was showing Lone Wolf an open-winged hawk. “The sack you filled with joy.”

Diaz moved away from the wall and turned to her. “That sack belongs to Dios, Jessica. It is what He gives that brings joy.” He tipped his hat respectfully. “Sleep well, mariposa.” Keeping to the shadows, Diaz followed the wall to the door and quietly slipped out, contented, into the night.

***

As tired as she was from dancing, the summer night was too hot for Jess to rest well. She had been in bed no more than an hour, dozing lightly, when she heard Jake’s door close as he entered his room—and heard it open minutes later as he left again.

Jess gave up trying to sleep, at least for the time being, and climbed out of bed. Mildly curious about Jake’s late-night wanderings, she moved to the window to see where he was headed. The sounds of music and dancing still rolled from the cookhouse. Red Deer had told her that the party would likely last until the sun came up—which couldn’t be far off, by Jess’s calculation.

She looked down into the yard. Lone Wolf and Red Deer were just leaving the party. Two Hands had gone home hours ago with friends, leaving his uncle and aunt alone. As she watched, Red Deer rested her head on Lone Wolf’s shoulder. Lone Wolf pulled her close and settled a loving hand against his wife’s round belly. There seemed to be an unusual closeness in their manner as they walked—it was a private moment, and Jess felt like an intruder for having seen it. She shifted her eyes away from the two.

The outlying ranch was still. For several minutes, Jess watched the shadows and open places for movements. She had expected to see Jake paying a visit to the mare-and-foal corral or checking on the mustangs, but he was doing neither. Then she saw him—he was leading a saddled Cielos toward the stable, and they disappeared behind it. After a moment, Jake reappeared, now in the saddle. He rode off.

Jess made fists with her hands on the windowsill. She recalled the day she and Jake had ridden the range and walked together. He had come close to telling her about the rosebush then, but he had been evasive, and then had come the mustangs’ interruption. He had never brought it up again or ventured to explain.

“No more,” she muttered. When she’d first come to the ranch, she’d wondered why the cattlemen, who clearly knew about the bush, behaved as though it didn’t exist…why they turned their backs whenever Jake left with the cuttings, never questioning his intent or destination. Moreover, it seemed that whenever he took cut roses and left the compound, he was troubled and in need of comfort. For a man who talked about diamonds in the desert, and who had caused her to battle her heart over him, Jake seemed of two minds about loyalty. It seemed the “honorable” ranchman kept a mistress.

Hastily, Jess pulled on her clothes and boots, not bothering to braid her hair before hurrying down the stairs, through the door, and out to the stable, where she saddled Meg. She’d heard Jake ride toward the west. As quickly as she could, she followed, taking the same direction he had gone. She was going to find out what—or who—he was keeping from her. She had been toyed with long enough.

***

Jake pressed Cielos into a gallop. Weeks had passed since he’d been to visit Olivia—his Livvy. He’d gone to her grave less and less often since Jess had come to the ranch, and he had been there hardly at all since he’d fallen in love again. For more than a year, he had made this journey countless times, always with roses in his hand, always holding on to his memories of Livvy. But this…this was a ride he’d never thought he would make.