A Cowboy in Shepherd's Crossing Read online

  But Melonie wasn’t there.

  Silence claimed the little house.

  Birdsong filled the air outside, but inside, where her laughter had once brought life back to a place of sorrow, the quiet grew thick around him.

  He put together two cribs with no help.

  He laid the pretty oval rug on the girls’ floor, then had the two delivery guys position the white dressers where Melonie had indicated on her design.

  Double toy shelves.

  A play table.

  Two cribs.

  They’d given the girls the biggest bedroom, but by the time he was done, the room seemed full. Yet empty. Because Melonie wasn’t sharing the joy of preparation with him.

  Gilda had given Melonie’s friend permission to film some of the renovation.

  They hadn’t asked him.

  Just as well.

  He’d have offered his opinion and messed things up even more than they already were. By the time he and the guys tackled demolition on Thursday, he was regretting his decision to step away.

  He grabbed a sledgehammer and began demo on the Hardaway home interior with three hired hands. For the next week he’d be buried in breaking things down, shoring them up and putting structural beams into place. And moving the girls into the Middleton house.

  There wasn’t time to think of anything else, including Melonie, but he couldn’t seem to think of anything but Melonie—and that was a whole other problem.

  * * *

  “You guys are amazing. I can’t believe how much you’ve gotten done.” Melonie came through the front door of the Hardaway house on Saturday and gave the four-man crew a thumbs-up. “You guys don’t mess around, do you?”

  “Jace doesn’t let us up for air, but he keeps having pizza and sandwiches delivered,” one man offered.

  “And muscle cream and ibuprofen,” laughed another man.

  “So that takes the edge off,” added Spike Bennett, an older carpenter who lived in town. “Food, coffee and pain relief.”

  “He’s a considerate guy.” She didn’t look at Jace when she said it. He was considerate. When he wanted to be. But no matter how much she missed their time together, she wasn’t anyone’s casual acquaintance. Especially when there wasn’t one thing casual about those kisses.

  She turned to Jace, pretending she didn’t care. “I’ve got a favor to ask you.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve got to get some final quiet work done before we have the building inspector look at these plans, and Pine Ridge Ranch is anything but quiet right now with wedding plans, people and babies. Can I spend Monday at your place?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Perfect. Thank you.” It wasn’t perfect. Perfect would be having his arm around her shoulders. Drawing her in. Laughing at Ava’s attitude and Annie’s questioning looks. Cuddling on a sofa. Tucking the girls into bed.

  Ezra called her name from the door. “I got some great demo and clean-up shots this morning. Can I get a few of you guys interacting amid the rubble?”

  “Sure.” She complimented the guys again, this time for the camera. And when she asked Jace about working at his house, he answered in a cool, polite tone as if the whole thing was a bother.

  That made her all the more determined to put the polish on this project. Not to show him up. But to show her stuff because no one would ever get to consider her a bother again.

  * * *

  Jace motioned toward the darkening sky midday on Monday. “It looks like the forecasters got it right this time,” he told Spike. He’d hired the older man to double-team the Hardaway project, and no one knew carpentry and construction better than Spike. “That’s a mean-looking sky heading our way.”

  “It’s fierce, for certain. Makes you glad the roofs are done. And we’ve got this place just about ready to renovate, but I think we need to sit down with Melonie and go over those design plans. I work better with a clear picture. Tonight, maybe?” Spike had mentioned this before and he’d put him off.

  “Should work.” Chin down, Jace pried nails out of the hardwood flooring. He’d deliberately delayed going over the plans with Melonie, but he’d have to prioritize it now. Spike shouldn’t have to ask. He should have set the meeting in stone. What if they needed to make extensive alterations to her ideas?

  He’d been able to cut the other two men loose after Saturday’s work. Now it was him and Spike to complete the renovation, guided by Melonie’s vision and her camera-hugging friend.

  Thunder rumbled. They’d been dry for two weeks, not unusual for Idaho summers, but when things got too dry, wildfires became a concern. And things dried out real quick in a mountain summer.

  Another flash of lightning commanded his attention as the threatening sky pitched their way. He put aside the flash of concern. The girls were safe and sound. Gilda was at Pine Ridge making jam with Corrie. Melonie?

  Nope. Not his concern, but he had to shove the niggle of worry aside with mental force. She was at his house, and from the looks of the sky, the storm was rolling in north of his place. She’d be fine.

  Focusing on demolition details, he ignored the growing tumult. There was work to do and one way or another, he meant to do it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Melonie glanced outside as the light dimmed. Dark clouds skirted north of her, rolling across the valley like a well-done movie shot. She hadn’t bothered checking the weather report that morning, but when her phone indicated a storm alert, she frowned. It looked like the storm would narrowly miss Jace’s house, but Pine Ridge Ranch was in its path. The brewing storm was definitely going to make the folks over there sit up and take notice.

  A sharp crackle of lightning split the air, followed by a swift, harsh crash of thunder. No rain, but the busy side of the storm had found her.

  Lightning struck close again, almost sizzling, and when the thunder followed quickly, a gust of welcome, cool wind filled the kitchen.

  The horses whinnied. One? Both? She wasn’t sure, and the sound was muffled, like it came from the barn.

  Lightning cracked again, with a distinctive snap!

  Thunder followed instantly.

  Her pulse quickened. Her heart beat a little harder in her chest.

  To the south, the sky was deceptively clear. The town of Council was getting glorious sun.

  But to the north, Mother Nature was unleashing her fury. Melonie’s visibility was obscured by the intense storm, even though the rain didn’t reach Jace’s place.

  Were the girls all right at Rosie’s little house? Was Zeke there, or at the big house with Lizzie?

  She started pacing the room, fighting nerves. She’d been in storms before, but the wide-open valley gave her a better vantage point, and this storm was raging over people she loved. Still, it was just a thunderstorm. She was being silly.

  She moved back toward the computer.

  The wind blew again, shifting the ruffled topper she’d put on the kitchen window. And with the wind came smoke.

  Not just the scent of a distant campfire.

  Smoke blew into the newly renovated house, a thick cloud of it, smelling foul and rancid.

  She slammed the window shut, grabbed her phone and dashed outside, where her heart managed to jump straight into her throat.

  The barn, a scant hundred feet from the house, was on fire. And Jace’s two horses were inside, crying in piteous equine voices.

  Her heart raced. Her palms went hot and damp.

  She hit 911 and spoke quickly as she tried to open the gate. When the gate gave her trouble, she scaled the fence and landed with a thud on the other side. “Barn fire, 1727 Crossing Corners Road. Lightning strike, spreading quickly.”

  “Are there people in the building?”

  She ran across the paddock. “No. Two horses.”

  “We’ve got Engine Co
mpany Two responding.”

  She pocketed the phone.

  Bubba and Bonnie Lass didn’t have time to wait for fire engines and big, brawny men.

  They had her, and she knew how badly horses hated fire. And how much she feared horses.

  Her gut seized. Her breath went shallow.

  She stared at the barn as the raging fire swept from north to south along the back wall. Stacks of dried hay and straw fed the flames. To her right were the horse stalls, but the horses hadn’t been closed in that morning. They’d been walking the paddock when she arrived. So they weren’t closed in the stalls but they were in the barn, and they weren’t wearing halters.

  God, give me courage. And don’t let me fail.

  She whispered the prayer as she grabbed a lead rope from the hooks inside the broad, open doors, and didn’t think. She didn’t dare think, because if she did, she’d be useless and she couldn’t afford to be useless now.

  Bubba stood in front of Bonnie Lass as if sheltering her, and when she slipped the noose around his neck, he came right along, outside. She prayed Bonnie Lass would follow the old guy’s lead, and when she got Bubba upwind of the fire, she tied him to a fence post, then ran back to the barn.

  The north end was fully engulfed now. Bonnie Lass was at the other end, near the closed doors. If those doors would open, bringing Bonnie out might not be all that hard.

  She ran that way, but when she tried the doors, they wouldn’t budge.

  Heart racing, she went back to the west-facing entrance, grabbed another lead line and hurried in.

  Bonnie Lass backed up farther. She pushed herself into the far corner and stared at Melonie with frightened eyes.

  Then she whinnied, only it was more like a scream.

  “Easy. Easy, girl.”

  Bonnie Lass wanted no part of her easy talk. Smoke was pushing their way, and the crackle of fire grew louder. She felt the temperature rising, and still she reached for the horse’s face.

  Bonnie Lass rose up on her back legs.

  Melonie’s heart slammed.

  Memories grabbed hold of her, of another horse. Another time, only that time it was Melonie in the corner, with no escape. And the horse was big...so big. And so very angry.

  Don’t think about that now.

  This isn’t Sweet Red Wine. This is Jace’s horse, and she’s nice. But scared. Think, Melonie. Think!

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” She slipped her hand up Bonnie Lass’s face, toward her ears. “There we go, there we go. Good girl.”

  Her words seemed to help. The words themselves or the tone?

  She didn’t know and didn’t care. She stroked the horse’s face again. Would she let her slip on the rope? Should she take time for a halter?

  The rising noise of the wind-fed fire nixed that idea and Melonie didn’t have to look back to know that her escape route would be cut off soon. “Here, girlie.” She’d heard Jace use that term before. “Come on, girlie, let’s get out of this place. We’ve got fresh air waiting for us, right through that door.”

  She slipped the rope halter up, over Bonnie Lass’s ears. The horse shied back.

  Melonie hung tight. “Gotta go, girlie. Gotta go.” She thought she whispered the words, but maybe not, because the horse shied again.

  Smoke billowed up, then at them.

  The flames were licking closer. There wasn’t time for sweet talk or coaxing. Bonnie Lass either came now or would be left behind.

  Melonie put more pressure on the rope as she turned away. “Come along. Come along.”

  Bonnie Lass rose up. Up. Up.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t remember. Just keep walking.

  Melonie didn’t turn. She couldn’t. The sight of those hooves raised high in the air might undo her and she couldn’t afford to be undone now. “Come along, girlie. We’ve got this.”

  She didn’t have it. The horse came down with a thud, and when she tried to shy away, Melonie tugged the other way, almost to the door. Close to safety. So close. “We’ve got this.”

  “We sure do.” Strong hands closed above hers on the rope. “Mel, get out there. I’ll draw her out. If I can.”

  Jace.

  There, with her, with a pair of strong hands to help. But she wasn’t about to leave now, with the wide opening so close behind them. “On three.” She quick-counted to three and with both of them pulling at the same moment, Bonnie Lass stuttered along those last few steps, then cleared the door.

  She let go then.

  Fire engines were racing their way. Sirens blared, and as they came around the corner, the sight of them...

  And the horse’s fear...

  And the noise...

  Brought back all she’d forgotten about that horrible day twenty years before.

  The small fire.

  The horse.

  Being trapped.

  And then...

  Her heart chugged to a full stop, remembering the sound of the single shot that brought the horse down. And her father, the anger and the disappointment she saw on his face as the prize filly was lying on one side of the barn’s corner...

  And his brutalized daughter was lying on the other.

  * * *

  “Come on.” Jace grabbed hold of Melonie and led her through the gate. “Come out front, we’ll be out of the way.”

  She let herself be led as a myriad of thoughts vied for attention.

  “Is your laptop in the house?”

  His voice jerked her back to the present. “Yes.”

  Looking up, she realized the house was in danger unless the fire company could keep the flames from spreading. “On the kitchen table. I closed the window.”

  He stared at her, then brought a cool, soothing hand to her hot face. Her cheek. “Thank you, darlin’. I appreciate it.” He ran through the front door, ignoring the scoldings of the first responders, and came back out with her laptop, purse and an armful of family pictures that they’d just rehung on the living room walls.

  “Got the important stuff,” he told the fire chief as he came his way. “Just in case.” He set the pictures in his truck with her computer, then started to guide her to the trees as a rescue vehicle pulled in.

  She turned back and tugged him that way. “We’ve got to move the horses, in case they get free. They might go back to the barn. They do that, you know. Sometimes.”

  “I’ll see to that right now,” he told her.

  “You can’t do it alone.” She slipped from his hand and started to hurry toward the open end of the paddock. “I couldn’t get the gate open.” She was talking fast, as if trying to explain why Bubba was still in proximity to the barn. “It jammed and there wasn’t time—”

  “I’ll help him, Melonie.” Heath’s voice made her turn. “Lizzie’s here. You go sit with her where it’s cool, okay?” He locked eyes with her and spoke slow and firm. “You did real good, Mel. It’s our turn now.”

  She blinked up at him.

  Then Jace.

  She nodded.

  But tears were slipping down her cheeks, fast and furious, and there was no way Jace could leave her like that.

  “I’ve got the horses,” Heath said. “And here’s Ty Carrington. We’ll move them to the next section. Ty?”

  “I’m in.” A tall, broad man strode their way, and he and Heath went to draw the horses to a safer area.

  “Hey, hey. Don’t cry, Melonie.” Jace drew her into his chest. Into his heart as her tears soaked the front of his plain white cotton T-shirt.

  “I couldn’t get away.”

  He frowned, not understanding, but not willing to break in, either.

  “There was a fire, not a big one like this, a small one, and it wasn’t even that close. I went to look and when I turned around, she charged me. She was big, Jace.” She drew back as if trying to co
nvince him. “So big. And all I could see was her anger and her fear and those hooves. And then I couldn’t get away, I was boxed in, and she just kept kicking me. It seemed to last forever and no matter what I did, or how small I got, she wouldn’t stop hurting me.”

  The scar on her face.

  His chest went tight. “She hurt you?”

  Her breath caught, then softened. And for several seconds, she breathed in and out as if calming herself. The maneuver seemed to work, and that probably meant it was well practiced. “She pummeled my head. Broke several ribs. Bruised my whole body. And mangled my cheek. My jaw was wired shut for weeks and I had multiple surgeries to put things back together.”

  He prayed mentally.

  For her strength, for her well-being, for her peace. No wonder she steered clear of horses and barns. And he’d been willing to believe she was just a spoiled little rich girl who never had to prove herself in anything. Or to anyone.

  “I knew I was going to die,” she said softly. “I heard voices, screaming and yelling, but they couldn’t pull her away. They couldn’t get her off and the alley was blocked. And then I heard the gunshot.”

  Help her, Lord. Please help her.

  She kept her face pressed against his shirt, against his chest and he held her there, wishing he could do something—anything—to make this better. “I’d forgotten so much of this,” she went on. “The details of it. They said it was because of the concussion. That I might never remember, and I didn’t care because who wants to remember that? But then, today.” She drew back as the firefighters surrounded the barn and house, pumping water through thick, heavy hoses. “I could see it in my head. I had to tell myself that Bonnie Lass wasn’t Sweet Red Wine, that she was a nice horse. A good horse. She had to be because she was yours and you wouldn’t keep a bad animal on the farm.”

  “Never.”

  “And then I remembered the shot. And my father’s face, so angry. So disappointed. So sorry to have to put that beautiful animal down because a little girl went where she wasn’t supposed to go.”

  Jace gripped her shoulders. “Is that what you think? That he was angry about putting down a rogue horse?”