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

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  A grueling day passed. Clint was beside himself with worry. He lay in his bed as the doctor had demanded but could only toss and turn, desperate for someone to find Jessie, sickened it couldn't be him. The ranch hands and Mabel reported to him frequently. None of them had found her anywhere.

  "What good does it do me to wait in bed when I can't rest anyway? Where would she go?" he spouted to the empty room.

  Unwilling to wait any longer, Clint heaved out of bed and got to his feet. Weakness prevailed in his limbs, but in determination he found his clothes to dress. Just as he finished buttoning his pants, Mary came into the room.

  "What're you doing, son? You may be well of the infection, but you're not strong enough to go looking for Jessica."

  His body was heavy, unyielding as lead, but he was sure it was from despair. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands shaking as he worked to pull on his socks. "I can't wait any longer. No one's found her." He halted and blinked at Mary. "I never got a chance to tell her what happened with Rose Marie . . ." He swallowed convulsively. "And then she catches us together again. I can't imagine what she must be thinking." He raked his hands through his hair. "I love you, Mary, but I'm very close to hating your granddaughter!"

  Mary squeezed her eyes closed for a moment. "I know, Clint. I'm so sorry. I wish we could go back and leave Rose Marie in San Francisco. All I can say is God is in control. We have to trust Him."

  Clint stopped buttoning his shirt for a moment to consider his next words. He looked Mary in the eye. "In the last two weeks I spent a lot of time listening to Jessie read aloud from the Bible while she thought I slept—"

  "What?" Mary interrupted. "You didn't let her know you were awake? How could you do that? She was so worried."

  "I know, Mary," he said. "Most of the time I didn't have the strength to speak. The rest of the time I was curious as to how she could bring these rough cowboys to faith in something they couldn't see. So, I didn't let on I was listening."

  Mary looked disapproving.

  "Okay, so I was wrong." He finished buttoning his shirt then rose to stick a foot into a boot. "She was so amazing, Mary. So in love with her God." He stomped until his foot slid in, then looked over at her. "But that's the problem, see? I even began to wonder, maybe it's time He was my God, too. And now this! How do I trust God when He allows so much pain to hit someone who loves Him like she does, someone who only wants to please Him? How cruel can He be?"

  "Clint, you know how Jessica misinterpreted seeing you in bed with Rose Marie."

  He groaned and stuffed his shirt in his pants, then headed for the door.

  She stepped in his path to stop him. "I have a point, Clint. Stay with me on this."

  He stopped, impatient.

  "Jessica didn't see that for what it was, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "You see the situation that happened with Rose Marie, and you think God is being cruel. But I see it and believe He must have a plan. He always does." She eyed him carefully but still blocked his path. He didn't like this one bit, feeling trapped like a cornered animal, waiting to be pounced on.

  Mary lifted her chin. "I've prayed for and wanted you and Jessica to be together."

  He didn't want to hear this. He'd worked hard stuffing feelings for Jessie down deep, not wanting to look too closely at what exactly his need was for her. He sure as heck didn't need Mary dredging up and dissecting those feelings. But he'd listen. Because it was Mary. Hands went to his hips as he forced himself to focus on her.

  "I've seen the way you look at that sweet girl, Clint. You may not have faced it yet, but it's obvious you're in love with her."

  Clint ground his teeth. He bent closer. "Wait a gall darn minute, Mary," he said, wagging a finger in her face. "I never said I loved—"

  She clapped a hand across his mouth, shocking him. His eyebrows shot upward.

  "Let me finish." She released her hand and raised a questioning brow.

  He wanted to put a fist through something. Instead he nodded in acquiescence.

  "Even though I believe it to be a great match and that God wants this, I've often wondered how our sweet girl would do with the best-looking, most desired cowboy in Montana territory."

  Clint rolled his eyes. He was sick to death of that assessment. "Mary—"

  "You've been in the limelight with beautiful women your whole adult life. Your looks alone bring attention from the women, but when they get to know you, the package becomes sweeter. What's not to love?" She smiled tenderly, then hurried to finish. "Now, you have to ask yourself, how will our simple and plain little Jessica manage the ever so handsome Clint Wilkins?"

  "Enough! You're exaggerating about me. And Jessica isn't simple and plain, she's—"

  "Clint!" She grasped Clint's biceps and squeezed. "Be realistic. Don't ignore the truth here. You will need to convince her you will love her and only her for the rest of your life."

  Her eyes searched the depths of his. What was she looking for? He was in a bad way and woefully unsettled. Didn't she realize he didn't know which direction to go? Now he knew what a stray experienced, hemmed in on all sides by the cowboys that only wanted the best for it, when in fact it felt like a fatal trap.

  "Mary, I don't have time for this."

  "Come here . . . sit down." She tugged on a sleeve. "You're wavering a bit."

  "I'm not staying. I may not know how I feel about her—Stop it! Stop looking at me like you know my mind better than I do. I'm going to find her. Then talk to her. That's it!"

  "Sit down for a minute. You only have one boot on."

  He looked down. Imparting a huge sigh he grabbed his other boot and strode to the bed. The springs groaned as he sat too hard.

  "You see? You're still weak."

  Clint glowered at her.

  "I won't keep you, but I will have my say first."

  Fine, he'd let her say her piece. He shifted to put on his boot.

  "It might be wonderful for a while, maybe even for years. But she's going to worry about you, Clint, whenever you even look toward another woman, especially the pretty ones."

  He dropped his chin to his chest in defeat and exhaustion. Mary may have thought her little speech would ensure he could make Jessie happy, but all she'd accomplished was talking him straight out of any future with her.

  Mary patted his arm in comfort. "Now, don't lose heart, dear. There's a lesson in all this. Let me tell you a little about my love life."

  His head snapped back up. That got his attention. Mary had always been so closed about her marriage. Plus, Roy worked in there somewhere. He just didn't know where. Still he said, "Make it fast, Mary. I need to go." He yanked harder on his second boot while she jumped in to finish.

  "There's a long, sad story about my past I'll let Jessica tell you about someday." Mary saw his surprise. "Yeah, she knows all about it. There wasn't much to do but talk while we tended you, dear." She smiled. "Anyway, back to my point. When I married Bill, he had a lot of insecurities about us. We were young and Roy had been in the picture. And I was pretty popular." When Clint raised an eyebrow, she said, "Let's just say Rose Marie got her grandmother's good looks." Clint raised both brows.

  "Bill worked hard to get my attention and married me as soon as I agreed. We were great for a time, I'd say the first two years. After that Bill became jealous and possessive. He had to be gone a lot as a logger, which nearly killed him thinking of me at home alone. He worried incessantly that I would draw the attention of the men in the area and then didn't trust me to resist them. He never could just believe that I loved him and was committed to him for life."

  Mary waited a moment for that to sink in. It seemed like she could always tell when his wheels were turning.

  "Consequently our time together became strained and unhappy. We stayed married, but something that could have been glorious had been eaten away by needless jealousy and strife—so very sad. And now he's gone." Tears filled her eyes as she stared across the room at a picture of
Bill and Roy with arms slung around each other and a large brown trout held by the gills between them. Huge smiles spread across both handsome faces.

  Mary sniffed, and then faced Clint, determination on her face. "Now this thing with Rose Marie can help you with Jessica, if you play your cards right." Mary searched Clint's face.

  He mulled over her words, but he saw nothing beyond telling Jess the truth and letting the chips fall where they may.

  She went on. "Of course, you will have to work on your reactions to women in the future, you know, especially beautiful ones."

  He cringed over how he had lived his whole egocentric life. His senses, like live wires, were all firing at the same time. He couldn't take much more of this new-found current of feelings awakening his insides. He closed his eyes and with profound effort found the door to the familiar wall of resistance—raised it and slammed it shut. Instant relief flooded him as he sensed his emotions shutting off one by one like bright candle flames beneath the snuffer.

  No Mary. Not this time.

  Mary noticed his sudden change.

  "Thanks, Mary, for caring. But you got your cinch too tight." He stood to leave and looked down into her upturned face. "I can't love Jessie—or anyone else for that matter. Not now, not ever."

  His anger toward his mother had never left him—never would. He wouldn't take a chance on loving a woman. He couldn't trust them. If he opened his heart to love one, when things got tough, she'd leave him to face life alone. To face pain alone. Hadn't Jessie done that very thing? Not just once, but twice?

  He reached for the doorknob. Mary stopped him again with a hand to his arm. "Clint. Don't be a fool. I don't know what happened to you in your past. But don't let what happened back then dictate how you live your life now. Take it from me. Don't lose the love of your life."

  When Mary said those words, Jessie's same words to him flashed back in his mind. And he had said them back to her. She'd thought he was talking in his sleep, but he'd said them all right.

  He cursed. He had no more time for talk. He had to find Jessie.

  "Clint, I have an idea. I should get Rose Marie out of the way anyway, so why don't I have Johnnie take her and I back to my cabin. You can take the Packard into town to see if Jessica caught a train back to California."

  Blood started pounding in his ears. "She can't have gone back to California." All at once the thought of facing life without her seemed empty, pointless.

  "Let's hope not."

  "I'll look wherever I have to, to find her."

  "Yes. I know." Mary walked out the door.

  Clint pushed his hat on. With renewed resolve, he left his room of convalescence to find the woman who hadn't left his thoughts since the first day he'd met her.

  Though weak, Clint managed to get himself to town and the train station. He parked the Packard at the entrance and entered through the large double doors. After letting his eyes adjust to the dimness inside, he made a beeline for the ticket booth—and the attractive young redhead behind its counter. As he sauntered toward her, he recognized the all too familiar ogling.

  "You must be the most handsome man I've ever seen in my whole life," she blurted out, then flushed the color of her fiery hair.

  Clint was too weary to deal with this young lady properly. He frowned in hopes of deterring her, ignoring her forwardness. "Can you tell me if a particular person has purchased a ticket from you?"

  "I'm not supposed to, but for you I'd probably do anything." Again she blushed, but was getting noticeably bolder.

  Okay, he thought, I'll play your game, if that gets me what I want. "Well, beautiful, if you'd tell me if a certain Jessica Harper has purchased a ticket in the last two days, I'd really appreciate it." He gave her his hundred-watt smile. The one he usually reaped gasps from.

  She almost swooned at the sight of it. "Oh, oh, sure, okay," she said. She fumbled through her records. At length she gave him an apologetic look. "No one by that name has purchased a ticket on August 16th or 17th. I'm sorry."

  Clint squeezed his weary eyes shut and blew a breath out through puffed cheeks. So, Jessica wasn't running back to California, at least not by train. Then where was she? Now, more worried than ever, he pivoted to leave. Over his shoulder, he burbled, "Thanks for checking."

  "Sure. Hey, wait a minute."

  He stopped in place but didn't look back.

  "I thought you said you'd be very appreciative. How about you buy me a drink in town when I get off?"

  He thought back on Mary's words, wondering how he could have handled this without using his looks or his charm. Groaning inwardly, and trying to get his agitation in check, he twisted his head to speak over his shoulder. "Sorry, young lady, but I'm otherwise engaged." Stunned at the irony of his own words, he remained frozen to the floorboards.

  The girl misinterpreted his hesitation. "Are you sure?"

  When he continued to stand with his back to her, she heaved a loud sigh and said, "Wow, she's a really lucky girl."

  Her comment snapped him out of his thoughts. He twisted so she could hear him well. "No, actually it's me that's blessed to have her." He only said that to be done with the girl's attention, he told himself. He turned back and sidestepped the line that had begun to form. Gawks from the ladies in line only managed to twist his already raw guts. The rustic floor boards vibrated beneath the heavy tread of his boots. The sound echoed off the walls of the massive room, hollow like the hopelessness inside him.

  He wondered how things would turn out when he found Jessie. But first he had to find her, and that's exactly what he intended to do.

  Back at the camp, Clint saddled the black and pushed through his weakened state to search every building, every path, even her special rocks by the stream. No Jessie.

  Disheartened and exhausted, Clint slid from his horse and guided him to a stall in the barn, rattled by a deep sense of loss and panic he'd never before experienced. He tugged his watch out of his pants pocket and saw it clearly in the moonlight. Just after 11:30 pm. She's been gone for a day and a half now. Where could she be, Lord? Instead of rebuking himself for offering up the small prayer, this time he hoped God would answer it.

  Just then the ranch's short, stocky maintenance man came from around the corner to enter the barn. "Oh! It's you, boss. I was coming in to turn off the lights."

  "Sam."

  "You're up awful late after being so sick. You look plumb wore out. Here, let me take the black." He grabbed the reins out of Clint's hand. "Why are you up this late?"

  "I'm looking for Jessie. Have you seen her?" He knew he sounded a bit desperate, but didn't care. He glanced around the barn, not really looking for anything and not really seeing anything, but hoping something would give him a clue.

  "Sure. She went up to Mary's yesterday," Sam said, offhandedly, while pulling the saddle from Clint's horse.

  Clint's gaze shot to him. "She—How do you know?"

  Sam was busy sliding the bridle off the horse's muzzle, so he didn't bother to look up. "She took that dapple gray you let her ride. When I asked where she was going, she seemed upset. Barely heard her say Mary's."

  Clint scraped all ten fingers through his hair, pulling his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Thank you, God."

  Sam turned and gaped. Clint offered no explanation. He ambled out of the barn and toward his bunkhouse to get some sleep before his ride to Mary's at sunrise. He would finally see Jessie again. This time he didn't try to talk himself out of what he truly wanted—her—and he didn't dare reflect beyond that.

  As Clint slogged down the road toward the bunkhouse, a thunderous clap split the noiseless night, followed by a shudder, then a steady rumble. A freight train? Clint spun in a circle, searching for the source of the sound. He saw nothing but deep night. A gust of air blew past his ears, speeding his pulse. A deep vibration rumbled under foot.

  What. Is. That? Earthquake?

  The ground shook, and every one of Clint's organs seemed to shift. He tried to take a step
, but faltered, unsteady. He needed to plant himself on solid ground. But where?

  His only experience with an earthquake was in Wyoming when he was only eight. He remembered his dad explaining it to him. He'd learned then that he just had to wait it out. That was all. It would stop.