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

  Chapter 3

  When they came over the final rise, Jessica gasped at the beauty of a land that stretched into an immense valley. She inhaled through her nose, as if the clean air might somehow smell different out here. The breeze felt cool against her damp skin. Closing her eyes, she let it calm her.

  When she blinked her eyes open, the sturdy country home loomed before her, like a respected matriarch, strong and proud. It had been built in the late 1800's, and she'd heard they'd added on to it every decade since. Even from a distance it looked a lot bigger than she remembered.

  The center of the house had the original two stories, but the roof now slanted downward to a one story addition on the south side only—the expansion of the kitchen and dining area, Uncle Roy had said. The barn was its usual burnished red, whereas the house and outbuildings were now white with green trim. That was new, reminding her how things would be different this go around. She wouldn't be a visitor, enjoying the comforts of her uncle's home on this grand setting. This time she would be expected to perform. And not just for Mabel, but for all those men. She shuddered, feeling a sudden inclination to run back the way she came.

  "Beautiful, ain't she?" Walt said, giving Jessica a start. "Whene'er I come up an' over that last hill I'm reminded of why I love this here place."

  His words eased her sudden desire to escape. She drew in a deep breath and gazed over the land again, experiencing the beauty of it through Walt's eyes. The swollen stream—with diamond-like sparkles on each swell—coursed by four cottages nestled in a copse of trees; the barn situated across the road from the front of the house had a corral extending from it, and a passel of cowboys cheered a bronc buster from the railing.

  Almost at once, all heads turned to the east, drawing her attention there as well. The men at the rail waved their hats to greet the half dozen men riding toward them. The lead horseman sat straight-backed in the saddle, poised and sure of himself. He was a big man, yet he rocked in agile unity with his steed. The other five men followed a ways behind, riding as if bone weary with shoulders slumped and heads inclined.

  Jessica brought her focus back to the first man. Though a fair distance away, she observed the way a gloved hand held the reins loosely at his thigh, and his black hat was pulled low over his eyes to avoid the sun's assault. The sight of him was especially masculine, and somehow so . . . familiar.

  Then it came to her. The magazine at the Five and Dime. The cover had a silhouette of a man astride his horse. The caption had read: America's most sought after male—the cowboy. Without a second thought, Jessica had whisked the magazine out of the rack and into her cart, taking it home to read every glorious detail in private.

  A whisper of a breeze coursed across the low grasses, rippling her blouse, tousling her hair. Her body buzzed all over—but somehow she knew it had nothing to do with the breeze. A flash of heat filled her cheeks. She hadn't even arrived and just like that was ogling one of the cowboys. She grunted in disgust at herself. She would not follow her mother's scheme. Tugging her attention away from the man, she looked over at Walt.

  Walt was studying her. "Seems ta me God brought ya here for a purpose, Jess-girl. Last few girls Mabel had workin' fer her were city slickers—beauties, all of 'em. Had grand notions of finding themselves a cowboy ta marry up with." He cocked his head toward the man she'd been admiring. "That one in partic'lar. When he'd lose interest they'd up and quit." He paused. "But I can see yer differnt."

  "In what way?" Jessica asked, realizing she needed to be more discreet about where her eyes roamed.

  "He's a good man." He tipped his head toward the lead cowboy again. "But I can see yer smart enough not ta let yerself be used like that."

  Used by him? She hadn't seen him up close yet, but she'd bet she wasn't pretty enough for that to happen. Not with this particular man.

  Still, there it was. Her goal for the summer. Steering clear of the cowboys—this one especially—and succeeding with Mabel where the others had failed. She could do it. She had to, for so many reasons. Most of all, to prove to herself that she existed as her own woman now and not some empty-headed young girl.

  That settled, some of the tension seemed to drain away, leaving her muscles more relaxed. Yet the ever present apprehension spiraled about in her stomach.

  She hiccuped.

  Walt gawked at her.

  She shrugged. "Sorry. Nerves."

  His sparse gray brows furrowed.

  "Stomach churning," she tried again.

  Walt still looked confused.

  "Gives me hiccups. Always has."

  He shrugged, then looked away. "Be there in jest a handful a minutes."

  The wagon creaked, protesting the descent down the hill. When they drew nearer she told herself it was only the altitude steadily squeezing the air out of her lungs.

  The wagon halted. Two cowboys bounded out through the squeaky screen door, and onto the back porch. They both froze when they saw her.

  "Whoa," the shorter man said. "We didn't know one of the supplies you'd be bringing back would be of the female persuasion, Walt. Who's this?"

  "Now, you jest mind yer manners, boy. This here's Jessica Harper, Roy's niece. Behave yerself 'round her, ya hear?" Walt glared at the stocky cowboy. "Jessica, this here's Pete Johnson." Bending close in a mock-whisper, he said, "You be sure ta watch out fer that one. He's a bit on the crazy side, if ya know what I mean."

  Pete made to object, but Walt raised his voice. "The other's Johnnie Williams. He's a bit shier and more mannered-like. Don't hafta worry so much 'bout him, but stick close to me just the same."

  She looked over the taller cowboy. He had black hair, thick under his sweat-rimmed hat. A hint of white teeth peeked through a neatly trimmed goatee. Shore do make 'em good-looking 'round here, she thought, smiling back.

  Johnnie's steely gaze penetrated hers. "Howdy, ma'am." He bowed his head to pull at his hat.

  His eyes fastened back to hers with a look so intense it should have unsettled her, but she found it remarkably soothing. "Pleased to meet you both," Jessica said.

  The attention from these men made her head spin. Men rarely noticed Jessica since her younger sister was the beauty in the family, and always seemed to be near.

  Pete moved forward and extended both hands to help her down from the wagon. Jessica waved him off. He backed up a step and glanced down at her chest. "Get in a tangle with a cup a coffee?"

  Walt cleared his throat. "Like I was sayin'."

  Jessica stepped onto the edge of the wagon and jumped down on her own. Once on the ground she dusted her hands together, then glanced from one man to the other. They looked stunned. Had they never seen a woman manage such a thing on her own? Amused and feeling a little more confident, she made her way to the back door. When she reached for it she hesitated, wondering if she shouldn't wait for her uncle to re-introduce her to his cook. "Will Uncle Roy be in here?"

  "Not yet," Pete said while unloading the wagon. "Just go in and holler for Mabel."

  "Okay." Her heart sank. "Thanks." Though she spoke to Pete she looked toward the eye-catching Johnnie. Something didn't compute with this man. She'd always been good at reading people. Though he looked the part of a cowboy—sturdy and long-limbed—there seemed much more to him than mere outward appearance allowed.

  Jessica stepped into the house with a squeak from the screen door. It slapped shut behind her. She let her eyes adjust then glanced around. The dining area looked to seat about thirty people on large picnic tables with benches and chairs angled around them. Beyond the dining area was the kitchen itself, with two large stoves, two sinks, and a commercial sized refrigerator. A median counter took up much of the floor space. Amazed for a moment that she didn't remember any of this, she immediately sloughed it off. Tomboy that she was, she wouldn't have been much interested in the interior of a ranch house back then.

  The short, hefty cook hacked at a pile of chickens at the far counter. Jessica paused several feet behind her to gather cou
rage and study the familiar woman—the white hair bound in a bun at her nape, her seersucker apron tied ever so neatly around her plump waistline with a perfect crisp bow. Jessica took in a calming breath. "Mabel?"

  Mabel whirled around and gasped. A pudgy hand flattened against her chest with a thwack. "Land sake, child. You scared the wits outta me. Everyone 'round here knows better than to sneak up while I'm fixin' grub." She panted a beat.

  Jessica gulped. "I-I'm sorry, Mabel. I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm Jessica Harper, Roy's niece." She edged closer. "Weren't you expecting me today?"

  Mabel stiffened. "Course I know who you are." She started to look Jessica over, stopping on her stained chest.

  Jessica flushed, and said, "Coffee. On the train."

  Half a head taller than Mabel, Jessica stared down into her face. She had noticeably aged. Wrinkles creased the pale skin around her mouth and eyes. Laugh-lines? Or maybe frown-lines.

  "Do you remember me from about twelve years ago when my family and I visited Uncle Roy? We weren't here long. I was pretty young. I'm sure I look a lot different than I did back then—" Stop rambling. "Anyway, it's good to see you again, Mabel."

  "You look the same, just a mite older." Her gaze slid up and down. "Don't they feed ya in California?"

  Jessica stifled a grin. "I'm here to help, so put me to work. What can I do? Or maybe I should bring my suitcases in first? Which room will I be staying in?"

  "Whoa, girl." Mabel finally set down the knife and faced her, wiping her hands on her apron. "First things first. Your room is at the top of the stairs, first door to the right. Get one of those fellers to see to your suitcases. Then I'll see what I can find for you to do." She turned back to continue her preparations, motioning at the big clock on the wall. "Need to get the grub on by six sharp or we'll have to hog-tie some angry cow pokes." She swished a hand at her. "Move it."

  Jessica whirled around, whacked her knee on the counter but ignored the jab of pain, and hustled outside to recruit helpers.