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“That’s okay. I guess I’m not very hungry this morning.” The truth was Jenny’s clothes left little room to breathe, let alone eat. Now she knew why her friend had insisted on separate boxes for her loaners. Jenny knew Essie would never wear them unless she had no choice. As she piled on another dirty plate, she wondered when the little vixen had made the box switch.
Remembering where she was, she glanced around the table and caught Shane’s steady gaze. Was he trying to read her mind, or what?
This one would be hard to fool.
Her breath hitched at the back of her throat as she realized what this last thought meant. She wasn’t leaving after all. She piled on more dishes and exhaled. She’d come this far, why not give it a whirl? If for no other reason than to satisfy her curiosity. Who were these men she’d heard so much about? And Ryder! To think she’d held up this man as the standard for all others! How could she have been so wrong about him?
She made her way around the table and avoided Ryder’s face...as if he remembered she was even there. Except for the casual toast toss, he’d all but ignored her. She looked at Joshua, instead, who was spreading jelly...uh, preserves... and giving her a sympathetic smile. She gave him a small smile back, till suddenly she felt the muscles in her arms quiver from her load. Before she could make a fool of herself and drop the whole pile, she pushed open the kitchen door with her back and deposited the dishes next to the sink. Hannah went about her business, not looking up. Essie watched her a moment, then left for another load, mentally sizing up her situation.
Two friendly faces, one questionable, one crude, and one crusty old lady who she’d bet her bottom dollar had a soft side.
Essie filled her arms again and returned to the kitchen, deciding once and for all that she would stay and make the best of things. She’d come to Montana for another look at Ryder Malone. One bad first impression didn’t come close to answering all the questions she had about this man. Why, after all these years, was that large chip still on his broad shoulders? She stopped and stared out the back window at a pair of mountains aglow with the morning sun. And how could anyone be unhappy in a paradise such as this?
Before she could change her mind, she marched back into the dining room and stood next to Max. “If the offer’s still open, I’ll take it,” she said, watching the surprise register on his face.
With a wide smile, he pushed out his chair and grasped her hand in both of his. “We’re happy to have you, Essie. Would you like to see your room? You will stay here, won’t you?”
She looked around the table one last time. Shane’s face told her nothing, Joshua looked like someone just bought him a puppy, and Ryder was still shoveling it in, acting as though he hadn’t heard the question, or if he had, didn’t care. All the way out here, she’d prayed he wouldn’t recognize her. Now that he didn’t and the initial disappointment at his behavior had subsided, she wanted to whop him upside the head with a two-by-four.
She squared her shoulders and faced Max. “Yes, sir. I would. I’d love to stay here.”
Max patted her shoulder and heaved a sigh. “Great, Essie. Let me show you around.”
That was a first, Essie thought, leaving Max at the front door and heading for her car. In Detroit, she’d haggled over every merit raise, as if each nickel would make a difference. Here, she’d accepted a job without knowing how much it would pay, exactly what her duties or hours would be or even what her accommodation would look like.
She started down the bark walkway thinking her instincts had been right. The room had turned out to be a cozy little suite—a bedroom, a sitting room with a fireplace and her own bathroom. It meant the wages were lower than what she was used to, but what would she need money for out here in the wilderness? She paused and turned back to the log house that would soon be her home. Over the roof line she could see the matching pair of mountains she’d spotted earlier. She wondered how far away they were. They seemed close, yet...
“We call ’em the MoJoes.”
Startled, she swung around and saw Ryder, squatted behind the hand-carved sign she’d noticed earlier at the end of the walkway. He was toweling it off, of all things, fingering all the grooves. She took her time closing the distance between them, afraid what she might encounter this time.
“Mo, because we think they look like giant molars.” He continued cleaning the grooves, not looking at her. “And Joe, since they overlook the fair city of Joeville.”
Essie stopped alongside Ryder and read the oval crest. Arched across the top were the words “The Montana Malones.” In the center was carved a beautiful replica of the snow-crested MoJoes, their reflections mirrored in the painted blue waters below. At the bottom of the sign were the words “Joeville, Montana, founded 1876.” She wasn’t sure she was ready to engage this man in conversation, but since he had started, she trod softly.
“How did this area ever come to be named Joeville?”
Ryder eyed her before answering, then returned to his task. “My great-granddaddy’s name was Joe. He was the first to settle here and start the ranch.” He chuckled. “In school I got the idea to change it to Joe, Montana.” A small smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Never made it official, but that’s what we call it now.”
Essie watched the sun play on his handsome face and remembered all those Friday-night football games. Without thinking, she asked, “Do you still throw a ball around...or go to any games?” She saw his face go rigid and, instantly, she realized her mistake. He looked at her sideways, the question taking shape behind his dark eyes before his lips ever moved.
“How did you know I played ball?”
She picked up a stone and skipped it across the small pond in the front yard, giving her heart a chance to beat again. “The trophy case in your dad’s study. I just got the tour, remember?”
Ryder pushed off his knees and beat more dust from his jeans. Out of the corner of her eye she could see he was no longer studying her. Now he seemed lost in another time and place.
“Yeah, trophies. He likes to collect ’em. Since he was never there, guess that’s all he has.” He ran his fingers through his hair, repositioned his hat low on his forehead, turned and walked to his pickup.
Damn. She hadn’t meant to awaken that demon. But why, if they lived under the same roof for all these years, hadn’t he and his father come to terms? With one hand on the door handle and the other holding his sunglasses, Ryder looked back at her and her chest constricted again.
“Guess I’ll be seeing you around, then...uh, what did you say your name was?”
She met his even stare, wondering if he truly didn’t remember her name or if this was another of his games. She imagined he played many. “Essie. Essie Smith.” She leaned a little heavy on her last name, watching to see if it triggered anything.
If it did, he masked it well. With his gaze still on hers, he slid his glasses in place and lowered the brim of his hat another notch. “See ya around, Essie Smith.”
His tone and grin were suggestive, leaving her breathless and angry, all at the same time. After the slightest pause, he hopped into his pickup, backed it into a stone-throwing arc, and tore down the road the way he’d come.
Two
Less than an hour after he’d arrived, Ryder drove away from the Purple Palace, eyeing it through a veil of dust in the rearview mirror, worrying again about Billy. The months ahead would be difficult, but somehow Ryder would find a way to ease the little guy’s fears. At last a plan had been put into motion that should help. At least he hoped it would—if mother nature and the attorneys didn’t ruin things before they started.
When he passed under the Malone arch, he put that problem aside and thought of another. In the month since his return home, he still hadn’t found his place in the scheme of things. He wanted to help Shane and Josh, but they’d each carved out their own niches, leaving him little but the scraps of daily errands. In part that came in handy, since Maddy and Billy needed him more than ever these days. Yet he missed the comfort of routine.
At the ranch in Helena, where he’d spent most of his adult years, he’d always known how he would spend his days. He had complete charge of the cattle and horses. It was a place where men looked up to him for direction, and women tried to compete with his dim memory of a young girl—a girl he’d thought was his only true friend. Oh, some of the women had succeeded in distracting him short-term. They’d strutted their stuff and he’d danced their dance. For a while. But something was always missing.
Ryder parked his pickup near the stables and headed directly for the corral beyond, the memory of this morning’s new cook niggling at a corner of his memory. There was a vague familiarity in the way she talked, or was it the sound of her voice? He couldn’t quite get a handle on it. Still...she didn’t look like anyone he’d ever met, either in Helena or Joeville.
Shane spotted him and waved his hat high above his head. Old Bucking Horse stood nearby, but he didn’t look up. Ryder sauntered toward them, knowing the old Crow heard him approaching. He heard everything, yet said little. Not exactly a fault in Ryder’s book, since he was a man of few words himself. He hitched his elbows up onto the fence and scraped the bottom of a boot on a lower rung.
Shane made his way over, running his fingers through his nearly black hair, then resettling his hat in place. “Looking for something to do?”
Yeah, something permanent that he could call his own, he thought, but he didn’t say it. He would wait. In time he would find his place. He pushed his hat back on his forehead. “Sure. What do you have?”
“We’ll be moving the cattle to summer pasture in a couple weeks. Could use some help on the fence out there. Got a few downed rails.” When Ryder didn’t jump on that one, Shane offered another. “Or you can help Josh with the Cat. He’s about ready to dig irrigation ditches for the hay, but the equipment’s been acting up.”
“I’ll give Josh a hand first, then see to the fence.” He scraped off his other boot and looked off at Buck working a horse around the ring. “There’s some new quarter horses up for bid in Billings. I was thinking of driving over tomorrow for a look...unless you want to handle it yourself.”
Shane regarded him for a moment, then turned his back to the rail and hooked his elbows over the side. “Nah. You go ahead. If you find anything, we could use about four.”
Ryder knew the significance of Shane’s trust. Horses were his first love—his and Buck’s. In the tradition of the Crow tribe, Buck knew his horses, and he’d always shared his vast knowledge with Shane. Their special bond had angered Ryder when he was a kid. Now he understood it was envy, not anger. Buck was the dad Shane had needed at the time. At least his brother had found someone.
Ryder studied Shane’s rugged profile, noticing the deep lines at the corner of his eye etched against wind-and sunbrowned skin. He closed his eyes and tilted his high cheekbones to the sun, looking as untroubled as ever. He was seven years Joshua’s senior and only three, Ryder’s. Ryder looked at his boots and turned over a few stones. Maybe if he’d been the mature son like Shane, instead of the rebellious teenager, he could have stayed at the ranch, too. Detroit may as well have been Siberia, except for that special friend of his....
“Well...” Shane pushed off the fence. “If we’re going to get anything done, we can’t stand around here working on our tan.” He started to walk away, then stopped. “By the way, what do you think of the new cook?”
Ryder flashed him his best bad-boy smile. “Many fine attributes...but I’m sure you noticed.”
“Yeah, I noticed. I also noticed she couldn’t keep her eyes off you.”
“Really?” This was news to him. If anything, he thought he sensed an air of hostility.
“Probably wouldn’t help any to encourage her, now would it?” Shane leveled a stern look on him that reminded him of their father, a look that set his teeth on edge.
“I think I’m old enough to handle my own affairs, bro.” He turned and walked toward the equipment bam, but he heard Shane’s muttered response behind him.
“Yeah, we’ve all heard about your affairs, little brother. Just don’t make this one another.”
The business of repacking her Pontiac at the motel took .no time at all. Except for the two suitcases she used last night, the rest of her belongings were still bunched snugly in the trunk of her car. She’d cut the tape on the boxes, looking for the ones that held her own clothes, but since she’d found none, she’d felt no need to drag them into Big Beak Motel. Fortunately she had a few of her things in her suitcases—nightshirts, underwear, shoes and her favorite Michigan sweatshirt.
Essie eyed the Michigan logo a moment before closing the lid. So far she’d avoided mention of her home state. If she wore the sweatshirt, the questions would surely come. She could always say it was a gift from her best friend, Jenny, who went to school there. After all, it was true. Yes. That’s exactly what she’d do if the need arose.
She took her time placing the bags in her car before ambling down to the office and paying her bill.
“Leavin’ already?” The clerk with the missing teeth showed no sign of vanity as he smiled broadly at her.
“I got a job in Joeville.” She looked around his tacky office. Dusty animal heads of every variety covered the dark paneled walls. The ranch was definitely a step up, way up, though she’d miss this old geezer. He’d made her feel right at home from the second she’d signed in.
“Joeville!” His tired eyes widened. He suddenly seemed concerned. “Hope ya mean at the Malone place.”
“Yep. That’s the place.” She pocketed her receipt and watched his worry lines relax. “Why? Is there another?”
“Well...uh, well, there’s the Purple Palace.” He gave her a dismissive wave. “I was sure ya didn’t mean there.” He kept his head down, busying himself with mail. “You’ll be real happy at the Malones’.” He looked up and flashed her another smile.
She thought about asking him about this Purple Palace, but she was eager to begin her journey. She walked to her car, feeling a little awkward for leaving, as if she were abandoning this lonely guy for greener pastures, which was exactly what she was doing.
He shouted after her. “Stop by and say howdy if ya ever nearby.”
She waved back at him and kept moving. “I will.” She got into her car and drove off, her mood an odd mix of sadness and excitement. She’d only spent two nights at Big Beak, but the old guy acted as though she were family, a trait she’d noticed often the farther west she’d traveled. Out here people looked her in the eye and seemed to care when they said hello. There was no rush, no harried business that couldn’t wait. So unlike Detroit. Not that she didn’t like Detroit, she admonished herself. Its pulse kept her moving, working, searching....
Another mile and Essie edged off the highway and killed the ignition, a little rattled by her last thought.
Searching? Now where did that come from? She let the word tumble and chum awhile, testing its validity. She stared through the gritty windshield, then finally expelled a long breath. Yes, it was true. All her life she’d been searching, not just for another Ryder Malone, as foolish as that seemed now, but for something far more important. And now here, in this ranging wilderness, she felt certain she knew what that something was.
Peace of mind.
As though emerging from a dream, she stepped from her car and took in the endless blue sky, an eerie awareness seeping into her.
Jenny had been right. She was never going back.
Even though the noonday sun shimmered heat waves off the asphalt, Essie hugged herself and shivered. The vastness of the sky and rolling planes gobbled her up, making her one with it. Through the bottoms of her thin-soled sandals, she felt the pebbled earth beneath her, its depth and firmness coalescing, already sprouting the roots she’d subconsciously sought.
She’d never felt so at peace.
Somehow she placed herself behind the wheel of her car and continued on. She’d driven this road only this morning, but then she’d been nervous, filled with apprehension and anxiety, afraid what might happen when she saw Ryder after all these years. She was still afraid, mostly that time would change nothing, that he would never be the man she’d dreamed of. Yet she knew it was too soon for such thoughts. If she’d lived through twelve years of fantasies, certainly he was worth twelve weeks of observation. After that, or before if need be, she would find a place of her own. But one thing was indisputable: Ryder or no Ryder, Montana would forever be her home. How she knew this with such certainty, or how Jenny had known it before, seemed insignificant.
It was true.
She backed off the accelerator and studied the vista, familiarizing herself with her new home, growing more comfortable with each passing mile of wildflowers. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she was aware of the deception that lay ahead—not just the times when she would actually have to prepare meals, but, worse, when she would have to face Ryder with her true identity. She tucked these worries away, determined to enjoy the moment. Carpe diem. When was the last time she’d seized the day? She couldn’t remember. Smiling, she drove on.
At long last she knew the source of Ryder’s wistful smile—the one she’d remembered so long ago whenever he spoke of home, and the generations of Malones who worked and loved this God-touched wilderness. The closer she got to the ranch, the more she felt the pieces of his heritage seep into her, and she knew her decision to stay had been the right one.
Just as she had planned, Hannah had things well in hand for supper by the time Essie had moved the last box from her car to her new digs upstairs and then strolled into the kitchen.
Hannah threw her a derisive glance, then went about her business. “Nice of ya ta stop by,” she said, whacking at a helpless onion, wiping her red eyes on her sweat-stained sleeve.
Essie smiled and ignored the sarcasm, still enjoying the glow of her drive in. “What would you like me to help with?”
“Help?” Hannah nearly shouted. “This here is yer job. I’m supposed ta be doin’ other things.”
Essie felt her heart sink to her growling stomach. As gruff as this old lady was, Essie much preferred the idea of being her helper than head chef.
“I—I’m sorry I’m so late. Maybe I can help you with your chores when we’re done here.” She cast a hopeful glance in the woman’s direction.
“Humph.” She continued taking out her vengeance on the poor onion.
It was then Essie noticed the large mixing bowl of ground beef. She had a sinking suspicion one of her few good meals was about to be scratched from this week’s list. “Meat loaf?” she asked, hoping against hope she was wrong.
“‘Less ya got somethin’ else in mind.”
“N-no. Meat loaf’s fine.”
“Good. Then ya kin work on the scalloped potatoes.”
Without a box? She looked around for a clue as to where to start.
“Taters are in the wood bin...end o’ counter.” Hannah nodded with her head while she used the side of her knife to scrape diced onions into the mixing bowl.
Essie found the bin and retrieved twelve large potatoes, taking them to the sink to peel.
“Which ones cain’t eat?” Hannah barked over her shoulder.
“Not enough?” Essie darted back to the bin, feeling about as out of place as Jenny would in front of a computer. Damn her ideas, anyway. How could a person pull out a cookbook with Hannah the Horrible breathing down her neck? The idea of making scalloped potatoes from scratch was as alien as butchering her own meat. Oh, God. Would she have to do that, too?
“Try doublin’ that and ya’ll be close.”
Essie toted another dozen to the sink, found the right utensil in a half-opened drawer, and went to work under a running faucet.
“Don’t know where ya from, but we all conserve water ’round here. Fill the sink, if ya have ta, but turn off that tap.”
Essie did as she was told, keeping her face forward to hide the anger and embarrassment that was coloring her cheeks. As much as she dreaded the thought of solo kitchen duty, the sooner this woman was in another part of the house, the better.
She could feel Hannah’s critical eyes boring into her back, and she double-timed the potato peeler, venting her frustrations while hoping to appear as if she knew what she was doing. At least Ryder was nowhere in sight to witness this impending disaster.
The screen door squeaked, then banged shut behind heavy boots thudding across the wooden plank floor. The boots stopped, and Essie kept peeling, head down, praying it was anyone other than Ryder.
“How’s it going, Hannah?”
Great. The familiar voice tightened the knot in Essie’s stomach.
“Ma bunions are killin’ me, but that ain’t nothin’ new,” Hannah said, with a half chuckle.
Essie peeled and prayed. Please make him go away. I’ve got enough on my hands.
“Whatcha been up ta all day, young Ryder?” Hannah practically purred, her voice taking on a dulcet tone.
“Oh, a little of this, less of that.”
