Finally a Hero

“Great,” Jesse said, tossing it in the backseat with the rest of the junk.

The prison minister would be proud. Since leaving jail this morning, Jesse’d been maneuvering around unexpected roadblocks one right after another, and there’d been not a curse word uttered. His tongue was bleeding a little from where he’d bitten it too hard, but still...progress.

Timmy didn’t say anything, just looked from the space where the rearview mirror should have been to Jesse as if expecting to get blamed.

“It will be all right,” Jesse assured the boy. “My mother did the same thing to me many times, and believe me, many a day I felt as conflicted as you probably do right now.”

Timmy gave the barest of shrugs and concentrated on whatever he could see from the window. There wasn’t much. Apache Creek was one long street of businesses, most looking fairly deserted. There were homes to the north and the freeway and hotels to the south. East and west were desert and a smattering of homes.

The main color was brown.

Checking his watch, Jesse groaned. It was now almost two. He needed to call the man offering him a job.

A job.

Right. Could be that opportunity was a thing of the past, given his new circumstances. Jesse was supposed to be a single man intent on getting his life back together. Instead—for the next few days, anyway—he’d be a man who had no clue what to do, especially not with a kid.

And no money.

Maybe he could get on the internet and find some of those long-lost relatives who’d taken him in when Susan disappeared on some misguided quest for happiness.

No, the best had merely tolerated him.

The worst had...

No way could Jesse turn over to them a five-year-old who flinched after spilling a glass of water and who hid under tables.

He had to get this job.

The first convenience store didn’t have a pay phone. The second one didn’t either, but the girl behind the counter handed over her cell and said, “Go ahead, man. Just don’t leave the store.”

Jesse motioned Timmy toward the candy aisle. Good, something sparked the kid’s interest. Then, Jesse pulled out the folded, wrinkled paper from his back pocket. For the past week, he’d stared at the name penciled on the paper every day, thinking about opportunities and fresh starts.

And freedom.

He punched in the number and after just one ring heard, “Hubrecht.”

“Yes, hello, sir...” Jesse cleared his throat and started again because gravelly wasn’t the tone he was going for. “Yes, hello, my name is Jesse Campbell and—”

“Yeah, I’ve been expecting your call. Where are you?”

Glancing at the sign outside, Jesse said, “A Circle K next to a Burger King right on what looks to be the main street.”

“I’ll come get you.”

“I have a vehicle. I can meet you if that’s easier.”

“Good. There’s a restaurant just down the way, the Miner’s Lamp Café and—”

“I just ate lunch there.” No way did Jesse want to return. “Look, there’s a park across the street. I can see some picnic tables.”

“It will take me about twenty minutes,” Jacob said.

“Thank you.” Jesse handed the phone back to the girl, grabbed two bottled waters from the case, and then paid for them and a candy bar for Timmy.

Jesse noticed that Timmy waited until he thought Jesse wasn’t looking and put the candy bar in one of his pockets.

Jesse’d done that a time or two also, saving food for later in case mealtimes became sporadic or nonexistent.

“It will melt,” Jesse told him. Then he handed Timmy a dollar. “Go ahead and enjoy your candy bar. If you find you need another one later, you can buy one. Never steal.”

Never steal, never steal, never steal.

Timmy took the money and put it in the pocket with the candy bar, which he still made no move to eat.

Wherever Susan and Timmy had been, it must not have been Arizona in July. Well, based all on the things that had gone wrong today, a little melted chocolate would be the easiest to fix.

There were two boys already at the park, both older than Timmy. They didn’t really play on the equipment. They were more interested in chasing, pushing each other to the ground and roughhousing. Timmy didn’t even look at them. Instead, he sat in the sand, found an old plastic spoon and began digging.

Jesse watched him, wondering what on earth he was going to do with a kid. At this moment, he wasn’t sure if he even remembered how to take care of himself. One thing about prison—you were told what to do and when to do it, and knew the consequences if you got caught not complying.

Tomorrow Jesse needed to drive into Phoenix and meet his parole officer. Now that would be fun. Good old Child Protective Services would get involved, and one more government organization would be breathing down Jesse’s neck.

If they didn’t take Timmy away entirely. He already dreaded the thought of each and every hoop he’d need to jump through.

July in Arizona was unrelenting. The heat pressed down, and Jesse felt sweat trickling over his shoulder blades. Timmy didn’t seem to notice or care. The plastic spoon broke. Timmy left it where it was and dug with his hands instead. He looked like he was on a mission.

Maybe he wanted to escape.

Jesse could sympathize with the sentiment, but after five years of confinement, Jesse found that finally being in a wide-open space was so overwhelming, he couldn’t breathe.

Everything he’d dreamed for the past few months was shattering around him. He’d left prison with a set of goals cemented in his mind, and already those goals were being either erased or challenged.

He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to make new ones or even battle for the old ones.

No, he couldn’t think that way. He’d come too far.

But, really, Jesse couldn’t think of a worse day to gain a son, especially a son who didn’t talk.

“You thirsty?” Jesse asked.

Timmy ignored him.

Jesse thought back to the past three months. He’d kept waiting for someone to say, “There’s been a mistake. You won’t be paroled.” When he’d asked Mike Hamm for a scripture, Mike had turned to Joshua: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Amazing how a few words from God could help.

Amazing how they’d helped more during incarceration than now.

The street remained empty. Everyone was at work or at home in the air conditioning. Even the little boys who were wrestling had reached their limit and were trudging across the parking lot.

He thought about the woman from the restaurant, the one who’d watched the latest chapter in his life unfold, and wondered what kind of life she had. She didn’t seem the kind who needed a hand up. No, she’d been driving a huge truck. And her build had been strong, sturdy—not frail and wispy like Matilda or Susan.

She was probably heading to some nice, comfortable home, where family waited and the biggest conflict was whether the television was turned to a do-it-yourself show or a Hallmark movie. Jesse could barely even picture what that sort of life would be like.

A dark blue truck pulled into the dirt lot by the park. This town was hopping with trucks—his little Chevy definitely said “tourist.” Jesse started to stand, hoping it was Jacob, but then the two little boys, who’d been all the way to the street turned and ran to the pickup.

Sitting back down, Jesse watched as they attacked the man, who looked a little old to be their father, grabbing him around the legs as he stepped down from his truck and yelling, “Howdy, Mr. Jacob!”

Jesse again stood.

The man wore jeans, a tucked-in, long-sleeve shirt and an old brown hat. He reached in his pocket and pulled out two pieces of what had to be candy as he asked, “How’s your mother?”

“Sleeping. She told us to get out of the house cuz we kept waking her up.”

Jacob said, “I’ll see about having you come out to the ranch one day next week. You can do some riding and help out a bit.”

“Yeah!”

The two boys ran off, possibly to tell their mother, possibly to keep Jacob from changing his mind.

Grabbing a folder from somewhere on the front seat, Jacob closed his truck’s door and ambled over to where Jesse waited.

“Park’s a mighty strange place for a meeting. The restaurant would have been nicer, cooler. We could have had tea.” He stuck out his hand.

Jesse awkwardly took it. Handshaking wasn’t something he’d done much of lately. “Yes, well, we’d already eaten and—”

Jacob looked at Timmy and then back at Jesse. “You never said anything about a kid.”

“This is my son. When my mother picked me up this morning, she introduced me to him. Before then, I didn’t know he existed, and...” Jesse’s voice trailed off as he tried to think of the best way to phrase the rest of it.

“And?” Jacob prompted him. He wasn’t exactly frowning. He had more of a here-we-go-again look on his face.

“When she dropped me off at the restaurant, she left Timmy.”

One of Jacob’s eyebrows raised. “For good?”

“Apparently.”

“Are you saying that the single ranch hand I hired really isn’t single?” Jacob started shaking his head. “The position’s not meant for a family man.”

Jesse swallowed, and thought back to the Bible verse: Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

In a voice stronger than he felt, Jesse said, “Sir, it looks like I’m a family man for a while, but that won’t keep me from doing exactly what you expect me to do. I’m a hard worker. Timmy doesn’t take up much room, he’s quiet, and we’d both appreciate a chance. I promise you there’ll be no problems.”

Jacob still shook his head and stood. “Your quarters would be a room, one room, in the sleeping quarters with the other two hands. That’s no place for a kid.”

“It’s better than the car where we’ll be sleeping tonight. It’s better than a shelter in town amidst a bunch of strangers.”

Jacob didn’t even blink. “I wish I had better news for you, son, but taking on the two of you is more than I’m prepared to do. I had misgivings about taking on just you.”

He started for his truck, interview over. Jesse tried to think of something that would change the man’s mind. Minutes ago, Jacob had offered a day of play and work to two little boys with a sick mother. That was the kind of boss Jesse needed in his life right now.

And Timmy probably needed it even more.

“Sir.”

Jacob didn’t turn around.

“Sir, I’ll work for free the first week. You need to provide only a place for us to sleep and food.”

Jacob opened the truck’s door.

Before he could climb in, Jesse said a word he hadn’t said in a long time. Not when they’d sentenced him, not when he’d faced his first adversary while incarcerated and not when he prayed.

“Please.”

Chapter Four

It took Eva almost two hours to cancel all the details tied in with the wedding reservations. Next she handled one complaint—it was clear that the guest wanted to be upgraded to a suite rather than a single room without paying the extra cost. Eva hated giving in to such blatant manipulation, but fighting the point wouldn’t accomplish anything. The ranch was nearly empty; Eva sent Mitch, one of the summer wranglers, to help with the move.

“And change into your uniform top,” she said. Mitch too often wore casual T-shirts, ones that advertised not the ranch but either beer or taverns. Today’s flaunted a place called Rex’s Bar and Grill.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, without any respect in his tone. This was his second summer, and she hoped it was his last. He had a habit of disappearing when they needed him. Worse, some of the guests coming back from a trail ride complained that he didn’t talk and was cold and unwelcoming.

She couldn’t write him up for not talking, but it didn’t make him her favorite hand.

Leaving Patti behind the desk, Eva peeked out the big picture window. Her father’s truck wasn’t in the main lot. Maybe he was down at the corral with the new hire. A real horse person would rather meet the horses than the owner’s daughter. Right?

“You might as well call your father. We’re both curious. Let’s see how things are going,” Patti suggested. “It’s been over two hours since you checked up on him.”

Patti never thought twice about calling Eva’s father to ask questions, get advice and report. Eva never did, preferring to convince him that she could handle any problem herself.

Eva studied the expanse of desert and mountain scenery. Her home, and she loved every inch. “I think I’ll go down and check things out again. We have the vet scheduled for today.”

Patti raised one eyebrow; Eva rarely went near the horses. “I’m impressed. Twice in one day. If the horses faint, let me know.”

Eva stuck out her tongue before exiting the main house, grabbing a helmet from the ATV’s rear cargo box and hopping on. As she drove the half mile to the barn, she started second-guessing herself. The earlier visit hadn’t been bad. But would she be able to handle this second visit?

To distract herself from her fears, she focused her mind on her other problem—namely, the ranch’s business problems. Her father wanted the place to be a ranch first, and a resort as a distant second. Eva wanted to convince him to turn those priorities around.

In truth, the lodging part of the Lost Dutchman was less of a headache than the ranch part, the guests’ interactions with the horses. In the past five years, once a guest had tripped on the tennis court, resulting in a sprained ankle. On the other hand, they’d had a dozen broken bones and at least one lost tooth thanks to riders leaving the horses’ saddles before the planned dismount.

They needed to shore up the side of their business that made money with no liability. She wished her dad realized that. But, that was her dad, tunnel-vision. She couldn’t get through to him that they needed to modernize the Lost Dutchman. Their business would triple if he’d agree to put in a water slide and a lazy river, plus a separate pool just for adults—but no, for the past twenty years horseback riding had been the main draw, and he was convinced nothing else was needed. He’d only reluctantly conceded to include guided hikes, biking and tennis.

And this new hire, this project of Mike Hamm and her father, would undoubtedly be a horse person; summers on a ranch did that to boys. He’d just be one more voice shouting her down when she said they should have more to offer that didn’t include horses.

Her red shirt clung like wet glue to her back as she parked the ATV and walked to the barn. To the left, a wrangler hired just two months ago conducted an intermediate riding lesson. Without having to count, Eva knew that half a dozen children ages seven to nine were involved. They were the only age willing to ride horses in this heat. Their younger siblings were in the craft house. Their older siblings were probably either in the game room or at the pool.

They’d definitely all be in the pool if only her father listened to her.

By the time she entered the barn, she was too relieved to get out of the sun to mind being surrounded by horses. She spotted Harold, their foreman and head wrangler, in Palomino Pete’s stall. Pete was a quarter horse that had been in the family for decades. Eva had first sat on Pete’s back when she was six. She’d last sat on his back when she was eight—the last time she’d ridden at all.

A family of wild turkeys had managed to get in the arena while she was riding. Maybe Pete had never seen turkeys before. Maybe Eva had gotten excited and accidentally kicked him. Or maybe he’d just stumbled at the wrong time, while she was too distracted to hold on.

No matter the cause, the result was that Eva had flown from his back and landed on her head on a rock. Thirteen stitches and one minor concussion later, her father had said no to her getting on Pete’s back again.

She’d wanted to, or so Harold said.

But Jacob Hubrecht expected people to listen when he gave orders. Especially then, when Eva’s mother had been just six months dead and nothing felt like it should have at the Lost Dutchman.

Right now, nearing retirement, Pete never went on the trail rides. He was used only for the smallest of children who wanted a safe, brief ride. In all the years they’d had him, Eva was the only rider ever to fall off.

“Everything all right?” Eva asked, not venturing past the entrance to the stall. “You hear from Dad?”

“I expect your dad any minute, and Pete’s got a slight crack on his left front hoof,” Harold said. “Probably be okay by the time tourist season begins.”

They needed tourist season to start tomorrow! Thanks to the economic downturn, the Lost Dutchman Ranch couldn’t remember what feast was and too often felt the tightening belt of famine.

The Lost Dutchman would make it, though. Everyone wanted to be a cowboy for a day, week, month. Eva, who’d majored in marketing, knew how to promote the ranch. If only she could get her father to listen to her ideas.

And stop hiring unsuitable people when they could hardly afford the staff they already had.

“I really don’t like this change,” Eva muttered.

Leaving Harold to his job, Eva went back to the ATV and returned to the main house. Maybe the new hire hadn’t shown up, and all the paperwork, phone calls and arranging for a bed had been a wasted effort on her dad’s part.

If only she could believe that.

She parked in front of the steps leading up to the two-story adobe building that had started life as a one-room cabin. Only one wall remained of that original structure. Her dad had installed a pane of glass over it, and added a plaque that shared the history of the structure.

Her dad’s truck still was nowhere around.

The current Lost Dutchman ranch house was pretty much the same color as the desert surrounding it and boasted a combination of Santa Fe style and Old West relic decor. The front porch jutted out and had what looked like tree trunks holding it up. A replica of a Conestoga wagon was to the left of the porch; a modern playground was to the right.

Stepping from her quad, she noticed that the blue jungle gym needed a fresh coat of paint. One of the rocking chairs on the porch had a rattan backing that should have been replaced. Only the cacti did their job without complaint. They looked hot and dry.

Like Eva felt.

She stepped into the lobby and pulled her shirt away from her body. The sweat dripping down her back instantly chilled thanks to the air conditioning. Patti turned the thermostat down to seventy-two every time she was left alone. It didn’t matter how many times Eva cautioned her about the electricity bill.

“You heard from Dad?” Eva asked, moving back behind the desk to check reservations. No change in the last thirty minutes.

“No. He’s been gone longer than I expected.” Usually Patti had a sixth sense about Eva’s father.

“What do you think?”

“I think he went into town, looking like he was on a mission, and he’ll be back soon.” Patti didn’t say anything Eva didn’t already know. The difference was, Patti wasn’t curious.

“I’m back.” Her dad’s rich baritone voice came from the doorway.

Eva looked up just as he stepped aside to let the new hire in.

“I thought we’d come here first,” Dad said. “We can show the little one the playground and game room.”

The little one had a name, and Eva knew it.

Timmy.

She didn’t know the big one’s name. She knew only that he came with more problems than their little ranch could afford.

* * *

“Don’t touch,” Jesse warned as Timmy finally showed an interest in something and headed toward a large glass pane that showcased a dirt wall. Before Jesse could stop the little boy, he’d touched the wall and then fingered a woven wall hanging.

“That’s okay,” Jacob said. “Glass cleans, and that wall hanging is so dusty, it makes me sneeze.”

Jesse didn’t miss Eva’s glare.

Jacob was oblivious. “This is my daughter Eva. She’ll get you started on the paperwork.”

“That wall hanging is more than a hundred years old,” Eva muttered.

While Jacob bent down next to Timmy and explained that the wall hanging had been handmade by his wife’s grandmother, Jesse stared at the blonde from the restaurant.

He should have seen the resemblance.

She was her father’s daughter, all right. Jacob was a good two inches over six feet; Eva was close to that, maybe just under six foot, equal in height with Jesse. Her blond hair was as full and rich as her father’s, though Jacob’s hair was light brown. And unlike Jacob, Eva had dark brown eyes. They reminded Jesse of a stone he’d kept in his pocket when he was about Timmy’s age. He couldn’t remember the name, but he’d loved it for the color and texture.

Eva looked at her father as if he’d lost his mind. Jesse half expected her to refuse to help him. Instead, she took a breath, looked to him as if she silently counted to ten, and brought out some documents. “I put this packet together last Friday. But I’ll need to add a couple more. We didn’t know you were coming with...”

“A son,” Jesse filled in for her.

She nodded. “Dad, you’re not going to put them in bunkhouse. I don’t think Mitch and the other wrangler would appreciate it.”

Jacob straightened, saying, “Do we have an empty cabin?”

“Noooo,” Eva said, aghast.

“Yes.” There was another woman in the room, one Jesse’d almost missed. She, too, was tall, but unlike the Hubrechts he’d already met, she had red hair. Right now she was giving Eva a bewildered stare. She’d been watching the exchange between the three with keen interest.

“The Baker wedding party canceled, Dad,” Eva explained.

He whistled. “That will cost us a pretty penny. What happened?”

The redhead answered, “The bride reunited with her ex-boyfriend when he came home from Afghanistan.” To Jesse, she said, “I’m Patti de la Rosa, I help run the place.”

Eva interjected, “I already put all the cabins up on the website as a special.”

“We don’t need a cabin.” Jesse just wanted out of this room and this debate so he could be alone—or at least, as alone as he could be with a five-year-old. “The bunkhouse you told me about is fine.”

Eva raised an eyebrow.

“He can use the guest apartment,” Jacob decided.

“That’s for family,” Eva said.

“The family hasn’t used it in a good long time. It’s just sitting there, wasted space.”

Eva looked aghast. “But what if Elise decides to come home and—”

“She won’t.”

Something in Jacob’s tone made Jesse believe him. Whoever Elise was.

“A single room is fine,” he insisted.

“No, Dad’s right. You’ll need a bathroom.” For all her indignation and huffiness, there was something about her expression as she looked at Timmy. Jesse saw then something he’d missed earlier when dealing with her: a hint of compassion. Not for him, but for Timmy, whose yellow T-shirt was torn and threadbare, who had stick arms poking from the sleeves, and who sported the kind of grime that came not from one afternoon spent in the dirt, but many. The kid’s ears were almost black.

The kid?

His kid.

“We’ll appreciate anything you can do for us tonight,” Jesse said.

Timmy wasn’t paying attention. It was almost as if when Eva started talking, he stopped listening.

“Come on, then,” Jacob said. “I’ll take you to the guest apartment. It’s not been cleaned or aired out in a while.”

“I know how to clean and open windows.” Jesse fell in step behind Jacob. Glancing back, he felt relieved to see Timmy coming along, too—although clearly “speed” wasn’t a word in the boy’s vocabulary.

“This is the Lost Dutchman Ranch,” Jacob said, as if Jesse didn’t know. “I purchased her more than thirty years ago. I was just off the rodeo circuit, settling down, thinking of starting a family. She started life as a one-room cabin. You saw one of the original walls in there. I left it and put it behind glass.”