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

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  Once Jessica settled into the main house, she was back to helping Mabel fix larger meals for the cowboys, giving each one of them a greater sense of sameness. Names still eluded her, but she was beginning to recognize some of the men's faces. And she could rejoice in simple recollections, such as when she remembered where the bulky egg beater was kept.

  But it was the unbidden recollections of Clint springing loose that unsettled her. Memories that didn't come all at once in their entirety, but more like having a steel rake grating through her mind, loosening fragments that didn't make much sense. She couldn't seem to string all the pieces together. And, what she could piece together was troubling. No. More than troubling. The memories were always tainted in some way and were always of Clint with a different woman.

  Clint's kiss had been so sweet before he left to find Brad that she knew there had to have been other heartwarming moments like it. Times where he had shown his love for her, and where she had fallen for him. Times where his true character showed through, since she couldn't quite wrap her mind around him as the scalawag the new memories painted him to be. So, she begged God for those particular memories to be the next to return. The ones that filled in the gaps.

  Jessica's mind continued to chew on her recollections as she rummaged in the potholder drawer for the lemon sticks she'd only just recalled when Mabel tapped her on the shoulder.

  Jessica's head whipped up, and she smiled sheepishly, as if she were an unruly eight-year-old with her hand in the cookie jar.

  "We need to hurry, girlie. Supper shoulda been on the table by now. Where's our helpful Johnnie-boy? And where's Rosemary or whatever her name is?" Mabel slapped a hand onto the counter. "That girl always seems to dodge work."

  Mary waltzed into the kitchen just then, and answered each question in turn. "Johnnie's in town finding Clint some new ranch hands to break in. Rose Marie stayed at the cottage to change into a dress. She says she's tired of looking like a man. She'll be here any minute."

  Mabel snorted. "We'll see."

  "Back to work with you, Mabel. There's no time to be missing what we don't have," Jessica said.

  Mabel cocked an eyebrow. "Well, my girl, you may not think you're rememberin' much, but you're startin' to sound like me, so I know your mind is rememberin' plenty." She chortled. Jessica grinned. "Hope so." She breezed to the far table with a platter of roast beef in her hands.

  The back door flew open, and cowboys flooded in. Johnnie followed them with a half dozen men she figured must be the new recruits. Each one tipped his hat at her then came to rest at whatever open bench he could find. Apparently, Johnnie had already enlightened them on the routine around here.

  Trailing a ways behind the last cowboy was a solemn man with features that might be considered good looking if they weren't covered by a thick, black beard. His height and stature resembled Clint's, but his eyes and hair were as black as night. He seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders, and when he stepped closer, Jessica shivered at the chill of enmity that seemed to sheathe the man.

  He tipped his scruffy hat as he came near. "Name's Jake. Jacob Cooper, ma'am." She almost jumped at the low timbre of his voice, and the offer of introduction that was so unexpected. His eyes pierced hers for a moment, and she saw emptiness in their depths before he strolled past her to follow the others.

  She cleared her throat. "Perfect timing. Supper's on," Jessica said to their backs.

  Just as Johnnie started to address the crowd for introductions, the front door opened, and in walked Rose Marie. She was wearing a bright yellow dress with ivory trim. Her long yellow hair waved freely about her face and shoulders. There was a huge intake of breath, in unison, by every male in the room. Except Johnnie. And the new man, Jake. Johnnie's only reaction was a deep scowl. And Jake's was even more disconcerting. No reaction at all.

  Rose Marie's gaze caught with Johnnie's, and Jessica noticed a slight pinch of her facial features as if Johnnie's well-aimed glare was causing her pain.

  And then time seemed to slow. Her own gaze dove back to Rose Marie, and slid from the top of the beauty's flaxen head to the tips of her slipper-like shoes. Jessica tilted her head to one side, as if by doing that she would dislodge the stuck memory and it would slide into full view.

  And it did.

  Jessica sucked in a burning breath of awareness. Fastened to the floor by shock, she grasped the edge of the door. The grim memory of that day—that sickening day—when she'd first met Rose Marie, unfolded itself into her unprepared mind. Caught in the force of recollection she tried to grasp onto the good, but she felt as though she'd just awakened from a long sleep to find half her heart had been amputated.

  Clint and Rose Marie.

  Jessica's stomach twisted into one big aching knot. Her mind shuffled through each awful memory. Soon, the only thing left was a million pieces of shattered emotions.

  If she remained here one minute longer, everyone in the room would witness her break apart, and she knew sympathy was not something she could endure right now. Willing her legs to move, she slipped out.

  A dry, hot sensation in her throat and eyes halted the tears that should have come as she ran toward one place she knew she always loved. The stream. Once there she sank down and stared into the water, waiting for her breathing to return to normal and the peace to come.

  It didn't happen. She needed to escape her inner self, close it off until it calmed and brightened again. Instead, she forced herself to pick through the memories. Clint hurt me . . . time and time again. The longer she lingered over the distressing remembrances, the more each crushed her anew.

  "Why didn't you answer no to my prayers for memories about him, Lord?" she wailed into the night. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked. Feeling betrayed by Clint and her Lord, hot tears finally came in torrents, spilling down her cheeks and blouse, followed by gut-wrenching sobs.

  Memories continued to tumble into her mind. She wanted to reach in and stop them, organize them, have them make sense to her, to somehow catch at least one that proved Clint's love, or caring, or at least not pain. "Has he ever not caused me pain?" she cried out into the approaching darkness.

  It was little wonder Rose Marie had asked for her forgiveness. She had been with Clint. Why couldn't God have permanently buried that particular memory in the dark, bleak recesses of her mind?

  After what seemed to her an eternity, she glanced at the setting sun. Usually God's beautiful sky gave her comfort when nothing else could. But, now she wondered if anything would ever give her comfort again.

  She took her thoughts back to her past with Clint, trying to force the good times to the forefront. Every special moment she had with him had ended at another woman—at his side, in his arms, in his bed . . .

  How could a man such as this be faithful to just one woman—especially a woman as unremarkable as herself? Clint's past dictated how he would run his life, and his looks dictated how much attention he would draw.

  What was I thinking? How could I have been this naïve? This shallow?

  The darkness crawled across the sky from the east. The beautiful colors of the sunset began to turn gray, leaving lifeless streaks of clouds and finally a jet black mantle. She had never noticed that before—how darkness overtakes God's beautifully crafted horizon. It seemed fitting somehow. Like she alone held the memory of a sun that would never shine again.

  A hand touched her shoulder.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin.

  "Easy, Jess. It's Johnnie."

  He came to the front of her, opening his arms in the now familiar invitation. She hesitated, and then slid off the rock and into his embrace. "Oh, Johnnie, I'm such a fool," she cried. "I wondered at Clint's interest in me. Somehow I knew I was imagining something that wasn't there. And then, I caught him and Rose Marie in bed together at Mary's—"

  "Wait. What?" Johnnie pushed her shoulders back to see her face. He paused as he studied her. "Your memories
are back."

  She nodded. "Why would I have loved such a man?" She leaned into Johnnie. "I remember being in your arms a lot. Is that all I've done? Come to you to cry over Clint?"

  Jessica pushed away from Johnnie's embrace. The moonless night had blanketed them in darkness, just like her withering heart. "I'm fine, Johnnie." She swiped away errant tears.

  "Jess . . . I'm happy to be here for you."

  "That's just it. It seems you've been here for me while I've been falling apart over another man. Over and over again." She threw her hands up in disgust and started pacing. "Why am I doing that? I really don't remember my love for Clint, but I sure do remember what he's put me through." She stopped and looked up at Johnnie. "And I'm putting you through the same thing. How could I do such a thing?" Guilt flooded her face with heat. "Shame on me!"

  "Stop worrying about me, Jess."

  She looked away.

  He took a step closer. She felt the heat of his body. "I didn't have any idea about Clint and Rose Marie. I would have treated her differently had I known." His voice sounded stilted and angry.

  Jessica swung her gaze back to him. "Well, it's best you didn't know then. You've treated Rose Marie with kindness. It's how we should treat people." Her throat tightened. "What I don't get is why Clint has been so angry with her. My memories aren't totally clear yet, but wasn't it as much his fault as it was hers?"