Читать книгу Jessie's Child - Lois Dyer Faye - Страница 10

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.