Ride With Me (A Quaking Heart Novel - Book One)

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  Johnnie blew into the cabin in a huff, slamming the door behind him, setting the small mirror next to it in motion. He reached up to stop its sway. "Sorry," he muttered.

  He turned toward the kitchen table. There sat Jess with Mary handing her a steaming cup of coffee. She took hold of the mug and immediately plunked it down, brown liquid sloshed to the table. She sprang to her feet, put a hand on the chair-back and gave him an apologetic smile. "Johnnie, I'm so sorry you went to all this trouble . . . "

  His rage bled away and in two long strides he reached her, drew her to him and into a hug so deep he felt her breath catch. "Are you okay?" he whispered next to her ear. "Made my heart stop."

  Jess tilted her head back to peer into his eyes, furtively slipping out of his embrace. "I'm fine, Johnnie. Spending the last two days with just the Lord was exactly what I needed. And now that I just found out Rose Marie is with you, I can see why I needed to get all prayed up." She huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes.

  Heat surged up his neck at Rose Marie's name. "That . . ." He thrust his finger toward the door. "That . . . woman rubs me all kinds of ways but right! Just when I think she might have a decent thought in that pretty little head of hers, she reminds me all over again who she unquestionably is." Swinging his gaze to the older woman, he said, "No offense, Mary."

  "None taken." Mary pulled in a long breath and let it out slowly. "She's a mystery to me, most of the time. Sometimes acting like a, well, not-so-nice girl, with her inappropriate dresses and puffed up attitude. And, other times she seems so grounded and focused, it makes me wonder if she has two people living in that body of hers."

  Hmm. Exactly right, Johnnie mused. Princess and Scrapper.

  Mary grabbed a washcloth out of the sink and went back to the table. She lifted Jess's cup and wiped underneath it, setting it back in place.

  "Thanks," Jess said.

  "Her beauty gets her in the door anywhere she wants to go," Mary went on. "And gains the interest of the entire male populace." Mary strode back to the sink to wash out the rag, then dried her hands on the small towel hanging from the cabinet door under it. "I worry about how she's been living in the last ten years out there in California. You don't hear much good coming out of San Francisco." She glanced at Johnnie. "Oh. Sorry, my boy."

  He waved her off, used to hearing such things.

  She heaved a weary sigh. "But let's not forget that she doesn't know the Lord. God loves her, so we must do our best to understand her, accept her, you know?"

  Johnnie scrubbed a hand down his face. "Aw shucks, Mary." Pulling off his hat, he dropped it in an empty chair, then ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He gently freed the same towel Mary had just used. Rubbing the terry cloth up and down his wet shirt-front, he said, "I'm new at this Christian thing. You're gonna have to be patient with me."

  "Trust me, Johnnie, she's not an easy person to have patience with," Jess said, then took a small sip from her mug. "She's left me in turmoil plenty of times. I'm sure, even though I feel prayed up right now, she'll test me some more. We'll help each other, okay?"

  Footsteps thumped on the wood porch. The door swung open. Rose Marie ambled in, her back stiff, Princess noticeably in place. She wore a plastered on, not-quite-believable smile and marched straight up to Jess. "I see you made it here safely." Her hand spread at her chest, like she wanted to hide the mess. "That's good."

  Jess's gaze lowered, drawn to what Rose Marie was trying to mask, then looked at her wet hair. Finally, she smiled wearily. "Rose Marie, let's not use pretenses anymore. Can we try honesty for a change. Please?"

  Admirable, Johnnie mused. Her words were direct but delivered kindly—so like Jess.

  Rose Marie seemed genuinely shaken. She obviously hadn't received Jess's message as it was intended. "What do you mean? I'm always honest."

  Johnnie was in awe at Rosie Marie's show of dignity in spite of her appearance. She actually looked like she believed her own words. Johnnie's gut twisted a little. He didn't like that twinge of concern over her hurt feelings. Especially after what he'd just done to her outside.

  Rose Marie stood there in front of the three of them like the condemned, her chin up, and . . . trembling? Of course, she was wet, so she was cold. But, as Johnnie looked closer, he saw her trepidation. She was nervous.

  Ignoring what his eyes were trying to tell him, he dug up recollections of how she comported herself around men, flirting, flitting about in those revealing dresses of hers. It brought his ire back with added vigor. "So, you're finally speechless, eh?" Johnnie said, making Jessica's words an actual jab, as if that would eradicate his own guilt.

  She shifted a tear-filled gaze to him, looking betrayed. That baffled him. He wasn't her friend, much less her advocate. One little handkerchief when she was in need of a face scrubbing certainly couldn't be construed as anything important. And his humiliating delivery of a bath outside had erased any good deed he may have done earlier. Hadn't it?

  Finally, she shook her head almost imperceptibly, then turned and slipped into the bedroom. The door closed behind her with a light click.

  Jess, Mary and Johnnie exchanged glances. Jess shrugged, Mary looked sheepish, and Johnnie felt like he'd just been run through by a bull's horn. Shame, self-loathing, and anger seemed to have grown claws as they tumbled around in his gut.

  "I'll go get her," Mary said, looking as guilt-ridden as he felt.

  "I need some air." Johnnie jerked to his feet, whacking his chair into the counter and onto the floor. Grumbling, he grabbed his hat and righted the chair, then banged out of the cabin.

  He stomped toward the horses, a bitter night chill nipping at his face as he scanned the lean-to. A low nicker from Bonnie broke into his self-recrimination. "Hey, how's my girl," he said, striding up next to her. He ran a soothing hand down the gentle mare's coat. She turned her head and butted him a little. Laughing, he rubbed the baby-soft muzzle with its spray of graying whiskers. His reward was an affectionate snuffle in his palm. "Glad to see you still like me, anyway. Not too popular with female human folk just now."

  Bonnie gave a swish of her tail in response.

  Johnnie pulled a few handfuls of hay from the closest bale and dropped them in front of the horses. The water bucket was full, a frosty haze condensed onto the metal all the way to the rim. Johnnie breathed in the scent of hay and dust and horse, and knew beyond all else, this was a memory he would keep tucked deep inside him. He gave the horses a quick pat on the rump and headed back toward the cabin's glowing porch light.

  The night air was cool, but still. Eerily still. The hair on the back of Johnnie's neck prickled. That sensation only happened to him when something wasn't quite right in his world. And, he'd learned to always heed that inkling. He stopped. The prickle deepened. He twisted back and forth, looking for any unusual shadows among the silhouettes of trees.

  A small gust of wind streamed past him, whipping his hair into his eyes, then straight back again. His shirt flattened against his body, billowed, then came to rest as if it hadn't moved at all. Odd.

  Not able to put a name to the impulses sliding around in his brain, he strode to the wooden bench under the porch eaves and sat. He continued to watch—and wait. For what, he couldn't say. An hour passed. The cold seeped deep into his bones. The forest remained elusively quiet. At last he gave up the vigil and made his way back into the cabin. But the black sense of foreboding followed him in.

  Closing the door behind him, he saw all three women sitting at the kitchen table, their faces as close to each other as the table allowed. Their heated discussion came to him edged with harsh whispers. Rose Marie's cheeks were red and wet, her face frozen into a look of pained determination as she spoke. Jess gripped the table with ghost-white fingers and shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but Rose Marie countered by raising her voice. Johnnie caught a few phrases. Something about Clint thrashing in his sleep.

  He waited a few beats, thinking one of the ladies w
ould notice him. They didn't. He let it pass. Johnnie lifted a mug from a cup tree Mary had hanging on the wall and filled it with the late-night brew. Taking a sip, he glanced at the clock above the stove. For crying out loud, it was after 11:30. They should all be in bed instead of getting hyped up on coffee.

  A distant rumble rattled through Johnnie's bones. He cocked his head.

  What was that sound?