The Rancher's Spittin' Image

Jesse was out of the saddle and on the ground, his hand closed on the back of the boy’s collar before the kid made three steps.

“Now hold on a minute,” Jesse warned as the boy started twisting and fighting, trying to shake loose. When his warning wasn’t heeded, Jesse grabbed the boy around the middle and hauled him hard against his side. “Now dammit, I said hold on!” Jesse yelled.

The boy immediately stilled, though Jesse could feel the tension in him beneath his arm. Not wanting to frighten the boy any more than he already was, Jesse said quietly, “Now, I’m not gonna hurt you, I just want to talk to you, all right?” When the boy slowly nodded, Jesse loosened his hold and turned him around to face him, shifting his hands to the boy’s arms.

The boy jerked his head up to meet Jesse’s gaze, his chin jutting in defiance. Jesse couldn’t help but admire the kid’s spunk. He reminded him a little of himself at that same age. But he knew he had to put the fear of God in the kid. He couldn’t have him or any other trespassers thinking that the Circle Bar was open for poaching.

“Do you know that you’re on private property?” Jesse asked, forcing a level of sternness into his voice.

“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” the boy replied defensively. “I was just fishin’, and I even threw back everything I caught.”

“The point is, you’re trespassing. This land belongs to the Barristers and they don’t welcome uninvited guests.”

The boy raised his chin a little higher, making the cleft there a little more obvious. “The Barristers don’t scare me none,” he scoffed.

It was all Jesse could do not to laugh. “They don’t, huh?”

“Nah. Besides, there ain’t no Barristers left, ‘cept the old lady and she’s nothin’ but an old bit—” He caught himself just shy of finishing the word, and Jesse had to wonder if he’d done so to avoid having his mouth washed out with soap in the event his mother caught wind of him cussing. “Nothin’ but an old bat,” the boy said instead.

Jesse had to fight hard to keep from grinning. “She is, huh?”

“Yes, sir, and that’s a fact.”

“Well, now, what if I was to tell you I was a Barrister?”

The boy’s eyes widened before he could stop them, then narrowed to suspicious slits. “There ain’t no more Barristers. Wade was the last, and he died more than a month ago.”

“That’s true enough...at least the part about old Wade dying.” Jesse assessed the boy a moment. “If I let you go, will you promise not to run?”

The boy nodded warily, obviously still wondering about whether Jesse was in fact a Barrister.

Jesse loosened his grip on the boy’s arms, then slowly dropped his hands. When the kid didn’t bolt, Jesse eased a sigh of relief. “I’m Jesse Barrister, now who are you?”

“Jaime. Jaime McCloud,” the boy added, squaring his shoulders proudly.

Jesse sucked in a sharp breath. A McCloud? Could he be Sam’s or Merideth’s son? Could he be... He took another hard look at the boy, taking in the cleft in the chin, the umber stain of his skin, the cowlick that kicked his hair up at the center of his forehead. No, he told himself. He couldn’t be. The eyes were wrong...no—they were just right, he realized, his heart slamming hard against his chest.

They were the same unique shade of green as Mandy’s.

Jesse jerked his head up to look at Pete, who remained astride his horse. But Pete’s jaw was set, his eyes narrowed, and he refused to acknowledge Jesse’s unasked question.

“What’re you gonna do to me?” the boy asked, drawing Jesse’s attention back to his face. To Jesse it was like looking in a mirror—or rather at a picture of himself at that same age.

“I—” Jesse had to clear his throat before he could answer. “I’m going to take you home to your parents.”

The boy’s shoulders visibly slumped.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Jesse asked.

“No, sir. It’s just that I know I’m gonna get a whuppin’ for sure this time,” he mumbled miserably.

“And who’s going to whip you?” Jesse asked, frowning, thinking that if Lucas McCloud dared to lay a hand on the kid, he’d personally make him pay.

“My mama. She’s liable to skin me for sure.”

“Does your mama make a habit of whipping you?”

“No, sir. But then I’ve never been caught on Barrister land before.”

Jesse’s frown deepened. It seemed that some things hadn’t changed over the years. The feud between the Barristers and the McClouds still raged on.

Mandy tossed the last square of hay in the manger and closed the stall door behind her. Tucking the wire cutters into the hip pocket of her jeans, she strode angrily for the barn door. As soon as she found him, she was going to have a serious talk with her son. This was the third time this week he’d missed doing his chores.

When she stepped through the barn door, she put a hand at her brow to shade her eyes from the glaring sunlight overhead. Glancing around, she looked for a sign of Jaime. Unfortunately, the only person she saw was Gabe, her foreman, who was closing the gate on the corral behind him.

“Hey, Gabe!” she called, heading his way. “Have you seen Jaime?”

“No, ma’am. At least not lately,” he added vaguely.

As she reached him, Mandy pursed her lips and folded her arms beneath her breasts. She was accustomed to her foreman and the other wranglers who worked the Double-Cross covering up her son’s escapades. “Okay, so when did you see him last?”

Gabe dragged off his battered cowboy hat to scratch at his head. “Well, I’d guess that would’ve been this mornin’,” he replied uneasily.

“And where was he?”

“In the barn, saddlin’ his horse.”

“And where was he headed?”

Gabe scratched his head again. “Cain’t rightly say, though he did have his fishin’ pole with him.”

Mandy dropped her arms to her sides and rolled her eyes heavenward. “I swear I’m going to chain that boy to the house if he doesn’t stop slipping off like this without getting his chores done first.”

“Now, Miss Mandy,” Gabe began.

“Don’t you ‘Miss Mandy’ me,” she scolded, shaking an accusing finger beneath his nose. “You know as well as I do that chores come first and it’s high time Jaime started acting more responsibly. He’s twelve years old, after all, and you and the boys have got to quit covering for him.” When Gabe dipped his chin, she let out a huff of breath. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered. “Don’t give me that hangdog look.”

Gabe lifted his head a tad, just high enough to peer at Mandy from beneath a thick overhang of bushy brows. “The boy’s just got a touch of spring fever, is all. He’s entitled to play hooky now and again. He’s a good kid.”

If missing his chores had been the only reason for her anger, Mandy might have agreed with Gabe, because Jaime was a good kid. But below the anger lay a thick layer of fear. She wanted to keep her son close to home and out of harm’s way until she knew for certain that Jesse Barrister had left town.

Hooking an arm through Gabe’s, she headed for the barn again. “I know. It’s just that—”

At that moment, Mandy heard the pounding of hoofbeats and looked back over her shoulder to see two riders loping across the pasture toward them. She immediately recognized Jaime’s sorrel mare and relief weakened her knees. She shifted her gaze, squinting against the glaring sunlight in an attempt to identify the other rider.

As recognition dawned, she dug her fingers into Gabe’s arm. “Oh, my God! It’s Jesse!”

“Don’t you worry none, Miss Mandy,” Gabe hurried to assure her. “I’ll handle this.”

Mandy stood at Gabe’s side, watching as the riders drew near. “No,” she murmured in a low voice as she withdrew her arm from his. “No,” she repeated with a shake of her head. “I need to deal with this alone.”

Though she could see that Gabe wanted to argue the point, he gave in with a sigh of defeat. “I’ll be in the barn,” he told her as he turned away. “If you need me, all you gotta do is give me a holler.”

“Thanks, Gabe,” she whispered, her gaze riveted on her son’s face. She watched as he slowed his horse to first a trot, then a walk, studying his expression in an attempt to see if he showed any signs of physical or emotional damage. But all she saw was a reddening of his cheeks and downcast eyes that spoke of nothing but guilt.

But one look at Jesse’s face and she knew that her secret was out. Dark accusing eyes pierced her from beneath the shadow of his black Stetson. Quickly she averted her gaze, focusing on her son again as the two riders reined their horses to a stop in front of her.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

Jaime kept his head down, refusing to answer.

“I caught the boy trespassing on Barrister land,” Jesse replied tersely.

Mandy’s mouth fell open. “Jaime McCloud! What in heaven’s name were you doing on the Circle Bar?”

If possible, Jaime’s chin dug a deeper hole in his chest. “I didn’t mean no harm,” he muttered miserably. “I was just doin’ a little fishin’.”

“Whether you meant harm or not, you were breaking the rules. Both the Barristers’ and mine.” She firmed her lips to keep them from trembling, already fearing the repercussions of her son’s disobedience. “Take your horse to the barn and ask Gabe to take care of him for you, then I want you to go straight to the house and wait for me there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled dejectedly and turned his horse toward the barn to do her bidding.

Mandy watched Jaime ride away, feeling the heat of Jesse’s gaze on her back. Swallowing hard, she turned to face him.

Looking at him was difficult, for he hadn’t changed much over the years, his handsome face the mirror image of her son’s. All the old memories, the conflicting emotions he’d left her with, came rushing back and she steeled herself against their sting. “I apologize for my son’s behavior and I assure you this will never happen again.”

“He’s mine, isn’t he?”

The chilling words sent ice through Mandy’s veins. Though she had feared this confrontation and had done everything in her power to avoid it, nothing had prepared her for the hate she saw in Jesse’s eyes. At that moment, she knew she stood to lose Jaime, the son she had given birth to and raised on her own. But denying Jesse’s accusation would do no good. “Jaime is a McCloud,” she told him firmly. “I gave birth to him and I raised him alone without help from you or anybody else.”

Which answered at least one of the questions that had haunted Jesse on the long ride to the Double-Cross. Mandy had never married.

“Through no fault of mine,” Jesse returned. He swung down from the saddle, fisting his hand in the reins as he strode to face her, his face contorted in anger. “Why didn’t you tell me I had a son?”

“Tell you!” Mandy repeated, taking a disbelieving step back. “You weren’t here, remember? You took off without telling anyone where you’d gone.”

Knowing she was right only made Jesse that much more angry. “I’m here now,” he warned. “And I intend to claim the boy as my own.”

When he whirled in the direction of the barn, Mandy lunged, grabbing for his arm. “Jesse, wait!” He snapped his head around, his eyes burning a hole in the fingers that held his arm. Mandy quickly dropped her hand to her side. “Please,” she begged him. “Don’t do this.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Why? Are you ashamed for the boy to know that his father is half-Mexican?”

Mandy’s eyes filled with frustrated tears. “No, it isn’t that. It’s just that he’s so young, he wouldn’t understand.”

“What wouldn’t he understand? That I’m his father or that his mother has kept that secret from him all these years?” Jesse took a threatening step closer. “Which is it, Mandy? Or has the boy never questioned his father’s absence?”

Mandy closed her eyes and pressed her trembling fingers to her temples. “He’s asked questions,” she murmured. “I explained his Spanish heritage to him, but I told him that his father died before he was born.”

“And I would be dead if Lucas’s aim had been a little better.”

Mandy paled at the memory.

“But I didn’t die, Mandy,” he reminded her. “I’m here and I’m going to claim my son whether you like it or not.” He moved to his horse and swung up in the saddle. Folding his arms across the saddle horn, he leaned down, putting his face within a foot of Mandy’s. “You’ve got twenty-four hours. You can pick the time and you can pick the place, but we’re going to tell him. When you’ve made your decision, you can reach me at the bunkhouse on the Circle Bar.”

Having issued the ultimatum, Jesse swung his horse around in a tight circle, dug his spurs into the gelding’s sides and galloped off, leaving Mandy staring after him in a cloud of choking dust

“Did you know he was my son?”

Pete draped his bridle over a hook and turned to Jesse on a weary sigh. “I suspected as much, though I never knowed for sure. The McClouds are pretty tightlipped about their personal affairs.”

“So no one knows?”

Pete lifted a shoulder before dragging his saddle off his horse’s lathered back. “Not long after you left, Lucas shipped Mandy off to stay with some cousin of his back east. She was gone more’n a year and when she come back, she had the boy in tow. Course he was nothin’ but a baby then. Rumor was she’d had an affair with some man she’d met while she was gone and he’d died before he could give the kid his name.”

“And people believed the story?”

“Why not? Nobody ever knew the two of you were sneakin’ around behind Lucas’s back, ’cept me.”

Jesse scowled at the mention of Lucas. “I didn’t see him when I was over there, though I kept expecting to feel the barrel of his rifle pressed against my back.”

Pete looked up in surprise. “You mean Lucas?” “Yeah,” Jesse muttered irritably. “Lucas.”

“Kinda‘ hard to do from the grave.”

Jesse jerked his head around to stare at Pete. “You mean Lucas is dead?”

“Been gone nigh on twelve years now. Had a heart attack not long after the girl brought the baby home to the Double-Cross.”

Shocked by the news, Jesse could only stare. “If Lucas is gone, then who’s running the place?”

“Mandy. With the help of Gabe, of course.”

Jesse dropped down on a bale of hay, his legs too weak to hold him. Lucas was gone, had been for twelve years. Jesse dropped his head in his hands on a groan. If only he’d stayed, he told himself, instead of hightailing it out of town. Without Lucas there to keep them apart, maybe he and Mandy could have been together.

No, Jesse, I can’t.

Mandy’s refusal seared its way through his mind and he raked his fingers through his hair as if he could tear the words from his memory. Mandy was the one who had sealed the end of their relationship, he reminded himself. Not Lucas.

He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to the bunkhouse,” he muttered to Pete. “You coming?”

Pete stared sadly at Jesse’s retreating back. “Yeah, I’ll be along as soon as I finish up here.”

“Maybe we should call Merideth,” Sam offered quietly.

Mandy whirled from the window and the darkness beyond. “And what could Merideth possibly do?”

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