Jessie's Child

The quiet surroundings had always had the power to soothe and relax her but tonight the room didn’t calm her worries about Rowdy and Zach. Even after she’d showered, dressed in a cotton tank top and loose pajama bottoms, climbed into bed and switched off the lamp, her mind continued to whirl with all the possible ramifications of Zach’s return to Wolf Creek.

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of Zach and the first time he’d come to her rescue. It was during the summer she was ten and he was already a tall, lanky teenager of fifteen….

The first summer after her grandfather died seemed longer and hotter than usual. Jessie and her best friend, Sarah, tried to keep cool by swimming in the stock pond and spending Saturday afternoons in the air-conditioned theater.

Following a movie one Saturday, Jessie and Sarah stopped at Muller’s Candy Shoppe before meeting Sarah’s mother at the library. They were contemplating a purchase when the string of bells hanging on the door jingled loudly and two teenage boys entered the nearly empty store.

“Well, well, if it isn’t a McCloud. Heard from your convict brother lately?”

Jessie stiffened at the jeering tone in Lonnie Kerrigan’s voice. Determined to ignore him, she resolutely stared at the glass case and the rainbow display of saltwater toffee inside. She wished Mr. Muller hadn’t stepped into the back room. The bell she could use to call him back was located at the far end of the counter by the cash register, too far away for her to reach.

“What’s the matter, kid? Cat got your tongue?”

He brushed past her, bumping her in the process.

“Don’t pay any attention to him, Jessie,” Sarah urged.

Jessie glanced sideways and saw that her friend’s eyes were fearful as she watched the blocky teenager on Jessie’s other side.

“Yeah, kid. Don’t pay any attention to me.” Lonnie leaned against the candy display, grinning with malicious enjoyment at Sarah’s concern.

“I won’t,” Jessie said, filled with hate and loathing for the bully. “You’re not worth it.”

“Is that right?” She heard the sneer in his voice. “All you McClouds are the same. You’re a little young, but I’m sure it won’t be long before your brother Luke joins Chase in jail.” He waved expansively at the interior of the candy shop. “I’m surprised you’re allowed in here without supervision. Wonder if Mr. Muller knows he’s got a future criminal in his store?”

Goaded beyond endurance, Jessie turned to face him, furious. “You’re a pig, Lonnie Kerrigan. You should be in jail, not Chase. You’re the criminal—you and your whole family!”

She glared up at him, daring him to do anything about her harsh words. At ten, she was several feet shorter than the seventeen-year-old and he outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds. She didn’t care. Three months earlier, she’d watched as Chase was handcuffed and driven away from their grandfather’s funeral in a police car. She blamed Lonnie for her brother’s absence and she hated him with a depth and passion she’d never before felt in her short life.

A blond teenage girl standing near the door giggled at Jessie’s words and Lonnie flushed, his eyes narrowing. He stepped closer, bending toward Jessie.

“You little bitch.”

Her mother would have washed his mouth out with soap for using that word. Jessie stuck out her chin and refused to back down.

He grabbed her arm and twisted. The pain was excruciating but Jessie wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Instead, she glared harder, blinking back tears.

“Let her go.”

Lonnie’s gaze left hers and he looked over her head at someone behind her. His mouth tightened before he sneered again. “Stay out of it, Zach. This is none of your business.”

“I’m making it my business. She’s just a kid. Let her go.”

“You taking her place?”

“If I have to.”

Lonnie laughed and his grip loosened. He pushed Jessie and she stumbled sideways against the glass display case.

“Hey, none of that in here! You two take it outside if you have to fight,” Mr. Muller said firmly.

Jessie glanced over her shoulder. The gray-haired, heavyset owner of the store left the doorway to the back room and leaned over the counter, frowning at Lonnie and Zach.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lonnie snarled. “We’re goin’.”

Zach spun on his heel and stalked out of the shop, followed by Lonnie, his friend and the two teenage girls.

“Come on.” Jessie grabbed Sarah by the hand and pulled her across the room and out the door in time to see the teenagers disappear into the alley. She and Sarah ran to the corner of the building and stopped, peering around the edge.

Lonnie was taller, heavier and had a longer reach than his younger cousin, who at fifteen was still rangy with lighter muscle on his fast-growing body. Within minutes, blood was oozing from Zach’s nose and welling from a cut on his lip, his right eye was red and bruised. He didn’t stop, however, and no matter how many times Lonnie knocked him down, he got up and kept swinging. By the time a police officer, probably called by Mr. Muller, arrived to break up the fight, both boys were bleeding from their faces and knuckles. Their white T-shirts were ripped, smeared with dirt and stained with blood spatters.

“Wow, Jessie,” Sarah said in awe as the policeman marched the battered combatants down the street toward the police station. “He stood up for you and made Lonnie leave you alone. Why did he do that?”

“I don’t know. He’s a Kerrigan. He probably just likes to get into fights and beat up people.” Jessie was pleased that her voice sounded unconcerned and dismissive. But she was secretly amazed that Zach Kerrigan had kept Lonnie from hurting her. Why? Could he possibly dislike Lonnie and his bullying as much as she did?

Jessie woke, struggling through clinging shreds of sleep and dreams. She sat up, rubbing her hands over her face in an effort to clear away the images of her ten-year-old self watching Zach fight Lonnie in the dust of the alley behind Muller’s Candy Shoppe.

The residue of half-remembered conflicted emotions churned, accompanied by the memory of Zach’s battered face on that long-ago afternoon.

Had he saved her that day because he was being kind to a child being bullied? Or had he simply taken advantage of an excuse to fight Lonnie? It was no secret that the Kerrigans often exploded into physical violence.

She tipped the bedside clock so she could read the time.

“Two o’clock? Ugh.” She lay down, punching her pillow. She had to be at the office by seven and made a mental note to brew extra-strong coffee in the morning.

Chapter Two

Zach Kerrigan slid out of the booth in the back of the coffee shop and stood, settling his straw cowboy hat on his head as he walked to the front of the restaurant. He’d been absent from Wolf Creek for years but several ranchers seated at the booths and tables nodded hello as he passed. He returned the silent greeting, recognizing a few of the older men.

He stopped at the front counter, waiting for the waitress who’d served him to hurry forward. She stepped behind the cash register and he handed her his check and several bills.

“Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” She flashed him a quick, appreciative smile. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

“Not exactly,” he drawled. “I grew up here.”

“Really?” She cocked her head, eyeing him curiously. “Why haven’t I seen you in the restaurant before?”

“I’ve been away.” Zach slipped his wallet into his jeans’ back pocket, glancing sideways as the door opened.

The woman who stepped over the threshold was young, her slim shape clothed in a conservative cream business suit. Her face was turned away from him as she spoke to the man behind her, giving Zach a view of deep auburn hair and the pure lines of her profile.

His memories of Jessie McCloud were vivid and powerful but the woman in front of him was even more beautiful than he’d remembered. A slam of pure longing, lust and need rocked him. He’d expected the lust. The instant ache of yearning need stunned him.

She laughed at a low-voiced comment from the older man and turned, taking two steps into the café before her gaze met Zach’s and she abruptly halted.

Her eyes widened and her face paled. Emotions moved swiftly across her expressive features—shock and stunned surprise, quickly followed by a brief glimpse of what Zach thought was raw pain. Then her eyes shuttered and her face smoothed, concealing what she’d just revealed as effectively as if she’d drawn a curtain closed.

“Zach.” The faint inclination of her head was polite, her voice cool and distant.

“Jessie.” He touched the brim of his hat, his gaze flicking to the elderly man standing at her elbow. He didn’t recognize him, but the Stetson, jeans and boots he wore marked him as a rancher.

The man nodded politely. In the moment it took for Zach to nod in response and return his attention to Jessie, she’d walked away from him toward the back of the café.

Ignoring the curious glance from the man with her, Zach left the café. He strode down the sidewalk toward the feed store, oblivious to the people he passed and the sound of traffic on the street.

He’d thought about Jessie more often than he cared to admit during the last four years, and in the weeks since he’d returned to Wolf Creek, she’d haunted his dreams every night.

He hadn’t expected her to welcome him with open arms, but neither had he thought she’d turn and walk away as if she hated the sight of him.

“Zach!”

He looked up and cursed silently. Harlan Kerrigan stepped out of his office and stood only yards in front of him. Zach, not yet ready to deal with his uncle, had ignored the messages Harlan had left on his answering machine. He still didn’t want to talk to the man.

But he closed the distance between them. “Afternoon, Harlan.”

“Afternoon, Zach. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“Sorry, I’ve got a sick horse I have to check on. Maybe some other time.”

Harlan’s mouth tightened, his ruddy complexion darkening. His eyes reflected his annoyance but he surprised Zach when he didn’t insist. “Let’s make it soon.”

Zach nodded and went his way.

What the hell is Harlan up to? It wasn’t like him to give up easily. Zach made a mental note to ask his mother and sister if Harlan had approached either of them and if he had, what he’d wanted from them.

Seated in a booth in the café, Jessie reined in her emotions, slammed them into a locked corner of her mind and focused on lunch. Ed Sanders was an old friend of her father’s and when he’d called her office for an appointment to update his will, she’d been delighted. They finished his legal work just before noon and his offer to buy her lunch was a welcome diversion. She hadn’t given a thought to the possibility of running into Zach.

So she’d been totally unprepared when she did. The shock and heartache that followed had nearly paralyzed her. The only response she could manage was a brief greeting followed by a swift escape to the back of the café.

She managed to chat and laugh at Ed’s jokes but when she returned to her office after lunch, she had no clear memory of their conversation.

“Hi, Jessie.” Tina, the single mother of three who expertly ran the business side of Jessie’s law office, looked up and smiled when Jessie entered. “How was lunch?”

“Fine.” Jessie murmured her thanks when Tina handed her several pink phone message slips. She glanced quickly through them. “The Auditor’s Office didn’t call back with the information on Dad’s title search?”

“Not yet. Would you like me to check with them again?”

“That would be great, thanks, Tina.” Jessie was legal counsel for McCloud Enterprises and the work often involved property acquisitions. The latest negotiation for a thousand acres of ranchland was proving tricky due to a potential clouded title issue. Her father was impatient to finalize the deal and she wanted the situation resolved as quickly as possible.

Tina picked up the phone and dialed as Jessie crossed the reception area and walked into her office, closing the door behind her. She dropped the message slips on her desk and sat in the comfortable leather chair, pulling open a bottom desk drawer to slip her purse inside.

Alone, behind the closed door, at last she allowed herself to think about her encounter with Zach.

He seemed the same, yet somehow different. The moment she’d turned and looked into his eyes, she’d been blindsided by the emotions that roared through her.

Why am I not over him? She closed her eyes, but the vivid image of Zach standing in the sunlit café was seared on the inside of her lids.

He’d worn a straw cowboy hat tugged low over his brow, his black hair long enough in back to curl against the collar of a blue chambray work shirt. Clean faded Levi’s hugged the length of his long legs, a worn black leather belt threaded through the belt loops and black cowboy boots covered his feet.

His eyes were dark gold, carbon copies of Rowdy’s. But while Rowdy’s were filled with innocence and mischief, Zach’s were unreadable beneath the arch of dark brows. He was deeply tanned, his skin a darker brown than her father’s and brothers’, who spent long hours outdoors and Jessie wondered if he’d been called home from some far-off desert country.

She’d almost forgotten how big he was, or maybe she’d blocked the memory from her mind. She’d felt tiny looking up at him, even in the high-heeled shoes she wore. He was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and chest, powerful arms and a narrow waist.

And he still had that seductive scent that could only be described as male. Whatever the elusive scent was, she’d felt its impact in the café, even though she’d stood four feet away from him.

Dear God. She raised trembling fingers to her lips. I can’t have feelings for him. I can’t.

The intercom buzzed and she drew a deep breath, willing her voice not to quaver. “Yes, Tina?”

“I’ve just received the trust fund data for the Michaelson Estate. Would you like me to bring you the file?”

“Yes, please.” Jessie quickly smoothed her fingertips over her lashes and down her cheeks to erase any evidence of tears, and picked up a pen.

By three that afternoon she closed the file atop her desk in frustration, unable to concentrate. Pleading a headache, she asked Tina to cancel her four-thirty appointment, left the office and went home to change out of her suit and heels and into cool green shorts. She pulled a white tank top over her head, slipped her feet into leather sandals, and collected Rowdy from next-door neighbor Mabel Harris’s loving care before escaping town to drive to her parents’ ranch.

The one place on earth she could be assured she wouldn’t see Zach Kerrigan was on McCloud land. A less self-assured person might call the visit to her parents blatant hiding. Jessie preferred to call it strategic maneuvering.

Chapter Three

Wolf Creek was a small town. Fifteen minutes after backing out of her garage, Jessie was driving north through open ranchland, the paved two-lane road she traveled lined on each side with barbed wire fences. On the far side of the fences lay mile after mile of open pasture and flat-topped buttes. The land was dotted with grey-green sagebrush while swathes of verdant brush and trees followed the winding path of an occasional creek. Cattle and horses grazed or plodded along narrow tracks, marking the landscape with their brown, white and black coats.

The afternoon sun poured through the SUV’s windows and Jessie switched off the air-conditioning, opting to roll down the windows of her four-wheel-drive Chevy Tahoe and let the sage-scented wind tangle her hair.

“Whee.”

She glanced in the rearview mirror. Rowdy laughed, his face crinkled with delight, eyes narrowed against the sweep of wind, his hair blowing straight back from his forehead. A rush of amusement and love rolled over her. Despite the changes he’d caused in her life, she’d never regretted for an instant that he’d been born. From the moment she’d learned she was pregnant, her son had become the focus of her world. He enriched each day with a depth of quiet joy she’d never known before.

She popped a classic rock CD, one of Rowdy’s favorites, into the stereo and turned up the volume. Within seconds “Ruby Tuesday” by the Rolling Stones filled the SUV and Rowdy sang along, his voice warbling the higher notes as the big vehicle ate up the miles.

Fifteen miles from town, Jessie braked, slowing to turn onto a graveled lane and past a large mailbox set solidly atop a black metal post before she drove beneath the wrought-iron arch where scroll-work spelled out “McCloud Ranch.” Then she accelerated, dust billowing up behind her tires as she drove down the half-mile driveway toward the sprawl of buildings that made up the headquarters for her father and brothers’ ranching enterprises. The roadway curved between white-painted wood rail fences and horses lifted their heads to watch with curiosity as the SUV passed, their glossy hides gleaming under the hot sun.

Two big pickup trucks with the McCloud logo on the doors sat in front of the main horse barn and Jessie wondered if both her father and Chase were inside. She parked just outside the elaborate gate set into the wrought-iron fence surrounding her mother’s prized garden. Within the enclosure, the grass glowed a brilliant emerald green while dozens of rosebushes spilled crimson, pink, yellow and white blooms over the black metal of the fence in an extravagant display. A giant old maple tree stood in one corner of the yard, its thick branches shading one edge of the sprawling house and its deep porch, brushing against the windows of the second-story bedrooms.

A rottweiler rose and stretched lazily, barking twice in welcome as Jessie slid out from behind the wheel.

“Hey, Muttly.”

The big dog woofed again and sat, tongue lolling, his attention trained expectantly on her car.

As Jessie unhooked Rowdy from his car seat, her mother came out of the house and onto the porch, drying her hands on a dish towel.

“Jessie.” Pleasure filled her voice and was echoed in her wide smile. “What a nice surprise.”

“Hi, Mom.” Jessie swung Rowdy out of the SUV and leaned back in to collect her bag. By the time she closed the door, Rowdy had already unlatched the gate and was racing up the walk toward Margaret, arms outstretched, chortling with glee.

Jessie followed him, pulling the gate closed behind her, and laughed when Rowdy dashed up the shallow steps to fling himself at his grandmother. Margaret caught him, swung him off his feet and hugged him tight before setting him down to be greeted by Muttly. The big dog and the little boy were equally overjoyed to see each other and Rowdy threw his arms around the dog’s neck. With Muttly sitting and Rowdy standing, they were nose-to-nose and Muttly licked the little boy’s face in response to his exuberant hug.

“Muttly, stop that,” Jessie protested.

Margaret grinned and bent to wipe Rowdy’s face with the damp towel she held. Rowdy twisted away from her, intent on petting the dog.

“Come inside and we’ll wash your face, Rowdy.” Margaret pulled open the screen door and Jessie followed Rowdy and Muttly into the cool interior. The four of them trooped across the tiled foyer and turned left, bypassing the spacious wood-paneled living room with its leather sofas, thick wool rugs and Remington artwork, and followed the hallway to the airy kitchen.

On the far side of the room, sunshine poured through the windows of the dining alcove that looked out on the back garden. Jessie crossed to the sink, dampened a towel and squirted liquid soap onto it. “Come here, Rowdy. Let’s clean you up so Grammy can give you a cookie and a glass of milk.”

“I want soda,” he said hopefully, his words muffled beneath the cloth Jessie was scrubbing over his face.

“Milk,” Jessie said firmly. “Have your uncles been giving you soda?”

“Not today.” Rowdy smiled angelically and clattered across the kitchen to pull out a chair at the table and clamber onto it. Muttly immediately lay down beside him.

“Men,” Jessie grumbled under her breath.

“I’ll second that,” Margaret said wryly. She opened the refrigerator, took out a carton of milk and poured some into a plastic glass that had a red-and-blue image of Spider-Man on one side.

“What’s Dad done this time?” Jessie asked as she took a plate from the cupboard and collected three oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies from the vintage Dumbo cookie jar on the counter.

“He bought another airplane.”

“Another one?” Jessie set the cookies and milk on the table in front of Rowdy and returned to lean against the counter. “Why does he need another plane?”

“He didn’t say he needed it, exactly. He told me he thought it was wise to have a backup since the Cessna is fifteen years old.” Margaret rolled her eyes before returning the milk to the refrigerator and taking out a frosty pitcher of tea.

“That doesn’t sound totally unreasonable,” Jessie said, turning to take two tall glasses from the cupboard behind her. She knew next to nothing about airplanes but her father’s favorite hobby was flying and lately he’d been interested in a smaller plane a neighbor was using to dust crops. A sudden thought occurred to her and she looked at her mother. “Uh-oh. Did he buy this plane from Jack?”

Margaret nodded.

“But Jack’s plane only has room for two or three people. What’s Dad going to do with it?” Jessie carried the glasses to the table and returned for a plate of cookies.

“He says he’s going to use it to dust the oats and rye fields down in the basin.”

“Grandpa’s dusting fields?” Rowdy’s eyes were round with awe. “Like you dust, Mom? How does he do that?”

“No, hon.” Jessie walked behind him, ruffling his hair, and took a seat at the oblong table. “It isn’t like dusting furniture. When a pilot dusts fields, he flies his plane low over the ground and releases pesticide dust to kill the bad bugs that might harm the crops growing there.”

“What’s a pesty-side?”

“A pesticide is sort of like medicine for the crops to keep them from getting sick.”

“Oh.” Rowdy drained his milk. “Where’s ’lizabeth, Grammy?”

“She went to town with George to buy groceries,” Margaret replied.

Apparently satisfied that the McCloud family cook, whom he adored, wasn’t available, Rowdy hopped down from the table. “Can Muttly and me go outside and play now?”

“Yes—but stay inside the fence and don’t leave Grammy’s yard,” Jessie called after him when he raced for the door.

“I won’t,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled open the glass door and bounded out with the rottweiler beside him.

“What I wouldn’t give for some of his energy,” Margaret said, smiling fondly as she watched boy and dog race off across the grass.

“Me, too.” Jessie took a bite of cookie, grinning when Muttly returned a thrown stick and bowled Rowdy over before he popped up, laughing, to cast the stick again. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”

“Of course. And perfect, too,” Margaret stirred her iced tea and chuckled at the sight of Rowdy and Muttly playing fetch. “He’s my grandson.”

“Not that you’re prejudiced or anything,” Jessie said wryly.

“Of course not.” Margaret sipped her tea, took a bite of cookie and chewed, her eyes narrowing with consideration. “I wonder how soon Luke and Rachel will have children? Have they said anything to you?”

“Not a word. But the ink is barely dry on their wedding license, Mom.”

“I know.” Margaret sighed wistfully. “It’s so much fun having little ones in the family, I’m hoping they’ll decide to have children sooner rather than later.”

“Rowdy would certainly love it if they did. He’s always asking me why his friend Cody has two brothers while he doesn’t have even one.”

“And what do you tell him?”

Jessie shrugged. “That he has two uncles and Cody doesn’t have any so if he’ll share Chase and Luke with Cody, maybe Cody will share his brothers with Rowdy.”