by Jenna Night
Fatigue was rapidly setting in, and Ramona’s thoughts and feelings seemed to tumble over one another in a random pattern. Right now, she wasn’t sure of much of anything. She just knew that she needed to let her cousin know that she loved her and she was proud of her for working so hard to get her life straightened out.
Before she could speak, Harry stepped up. “Good to see you again, Jasmine.” He quickly introduced the others in the office, and then gestured toward the sofa beside Ramona. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” Jasmine perched on the couch and Ramona sat back down beside her.
Harry sat across from them. “So, we’re trying to figure out how the bad guys knew we’d be at that house in Bridger. Do you have any ideas on that?”
Well, that was direct. Ramona could feel her cousin’s posture stiffen beside her and she turned slightly so she could see her better.
“What are you saying?” Jasmine asked tightly.
“Not saying anything,” Harry replied easily. He leaned back, relaxed, looking as unintimidating as possible for a man his size. “I’m just asking if you mentioned to anyone where we were going.”
“I told my mom. I promised I’d keep her updated on everything.”
“Did you tell her in person?”
Jasmine shook her head. “No, I told her over the phone.”
“Where were you when you talked to her? Could someone else have heard the conversation?”
“I was home and there was no one else around,” Jasmine said firmly. “The workers putting in the security system had left by then.”
Ramona was watching her cousin closely and thought she saw a flicker of uncertainty pass over her face.
Jasmine got to her feet. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late for my group therapy meeting. Believe it or not, I am committed to doing everything I can to stay sober and drug-free now.” Anger flattened the line of her mouth and her brows were drawn together. “I can guess what you are thinking. That I’ve gone back to my old ways. But I haven’t.” Without waiting for a response, she quickly walked to the door, yanked it open, and left.
Ramona felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of her stomach. At the same time, she was frustrated. Changing the subject when the topic was uncomfortable was a common old-Jasmine tactic. So were the temper tantrum and the dramatic exit. It was amazing how someone could look so put together, and yet be such a mess inside.
Like Darrin Linder.
Harry moved so that he was back sitting beside Ramona. Once again, he reached for her hand. It seemed to be becoming a habit, and she liked it more than she should. “I’m sorry I upset your cousin,” he said. “But not sorry enough to stop asking her hard questions.”
Ramona sighed. “Backing off when things get tough is rarely the right answer.”
Harry turned to her and a smiled crossed his face.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m just glad to hear you say that, considering all that’s happened to you today. Considering all that’s happened since Darrin came into your life, really.” His smile began to fade, yet the warmth still shone in his eyes. Ramona felt drawn to it, even if an alarm seemed to sound from the depths of her heart. Don’t let yourself fall for him. He’s not available for a real relationship. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.
A knot formed in her stomach as she thought about how easily she’d grown used to being around him. And about how much she liked him.
That like feeling was on the verge of turning into something deeper and she could not let that happen.
Her concern must have shown on her face, because Harry started looking at her more closely, his own expression more serious. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll capture Darrin. And in the meantime, I’ll be right beside you to protect you from anything he tries to throw at you.”
Yes, staying alive was her biggest concern. By far. Darrin was determined to kill her and the attack today in Bridger proved he had a long reach. She already knew that he had people willing to help him do his dirty work, which meant she had an unknown number of people to fear.
But losing her heart to Harry, and then having to let him go was growing into a pretty big concern, too.
NINE
On Sunday morning, Harry followed Ramona out of the little white church near Cassie’s ranch right after the service ended. He didn’t make a point of walking ahead of her because he knew that Martin had the area in front of the church covered. Martin had agreed to stay out there and keep watch in case Darrin Linder or his hoodlums showed up, and in return, Cassie’s dad had sat in the front pew and recorded the sermon for later viewing so Martin wouldn’t miss out. So far, there’d been no indication that Darrin knew where Ramona had been staying, but why take chances?
The heels on Harry’s dress cowboy boots tapped loudly on the polished old wooden floor, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. He was a fairly big guy and treading softly had never been his strong suit.
Outside the church, dappled sunlight shone through the branches of the tall evergreens. Congregants exiting the building chatted, laughed and hugged or shook hands before parting ways and heading for their vehicles. Everyone from North Star Ranch, however, moved more cautiously, scanning the area for any signs of danger.
The fire trap on Friday had shaken up all of them. Harry and Ramona had been unnerved by how close it had come to killing them. The rest of the bounty hunter crew—including Cassie’s dad, plus Jay and Sherry—were unnerved by the repeated viciousness directed toward Ramona.
It was one thing to have a bail jumper work hard to avoid capture or violently resist arrest once they were found. But the crimes against Ramona since the night at the cabin were beyond reason. And that made things not only scary, but also difficult to predict.
Even with the seemingly random acts of bail jumpers who were drug-addled or lost in the throes of alcoholism, there were patterns and ways to find them. Favorite bars. Drug dealers they routinely went to for their fix. Predictable ways they would get money, like a burglary followed by a visit to a local pawn shop.
Linder, on the other hand, was different. He didn’t have a substantial criminal record that could give them clues on his associates or hideouts. He seemed to have somehow gone completely underground, because so far no one—not even the police—had spotted him anywhere. Not since the night at the cabins. And he was fixated on killing Ramona with an intensity that defied logic.
She’d finally convinced Jasmine to break up with him and the man had come unglued. It didn’t make sense. They’d only been dating for five months, according to Jasmine. They weren’t engaged, so it wasn’t like Ramona had interrupted the life they were planning on building together.
The only thing Harry could figure was that Linder’s behavior was related to the drugs he was selling and using and they’d messed up his thinking. Or maybe the drugs triggered some deep emotional issue. Both theories could potentially be true. Whatever the motivation, he’d quickly become a very dangerous man. And that meant everybody needed to stay on their toes. All the time.
The church parking lot was a grassy area with a few patches of exposed dirt. Martin was already out there in his truck waiting for Leon. Cassie, Adam, Sherry and Jay all piled into Jay’s big SUV. Harry and Ramona headed for Harry’s truck.
The turnoff from the highway onto the private road that led to North Star Ranch was only seven miles away, but Harry still insisted on taking every precaution. That was why they’d taken three vehicles, had arrived at the church together and were leaving together, with Harry and Ramona in the center vehicle. Traveling with just Ramona and Harry in one vehicle could leave them vulnerable to an attack. On the other hand, loading up with too much security could draw attention and actually make them more vulnerable.
Harry fired up the truck’s engine. He hadn’t even started moving yet when Ramona asked,
“Do you ever wonder if you’re doing the right thing with your life?”
Harry thought about her question as he shifted gears and followed Martin’s truck out onto the narrow highway. “Are you taking about career choices?” he asked. “Because, yeah, I’ve wondered about that at times.”
“Like now?”
“With bounty hunting? No. Right now, I know it’s what I’m supposed to be doing.” Not only did it feel like the right thing for him, but it was also something he prayed about. Often. And despite the dangers and stress that came with the job, he did feel peace in his heart about what he did for a living.
Where was she going with this line of questioning?
Harry liked to stay a couple steps ahead of any situation he was dealing with. That was how you kept control—as much as control was possible.
The trip to Bridger, and the fire, had taken place on Friday. Yesterday, Saturday, had been a quiet day at the ranch. Ramona had wanted to help out with exercising the horses and mucking the stables, but Harry had seen that she was moving stiffly, obviously still sore. He’d quietly finessed things so that she’d stayed in the house, helping Jay with some cooking while Harry worked nearby at the dining table, researching nearby lakefront properties for sale and trying to work up leads on where Darrin might be hiding out.
Ramona had called her parents a couple times during the day. She talked about how much she missed them. How much she missed working at the diner with them. Harry had gotten a little worried that she might not want to stay at the ranch any longer, but she hadn’t actually mentioned anything about moving back home.
“How do you know bounty hunting is what you’re supposed to be doing?” Ramona asked, redirecting his thoughts back to what was on her mind right now. “How do you know you’re following the path you’re supposed to be on? I’m not talking about the smart-money path or the impress-people path, I’m talking about the direction you’re called to according to the Lord’s purpose for your life.”
“I pray about it,” he said. That was something he’d done a lot of after the numbness of Willa’s passing began to wear away and his future had stretched out in front of him, endless and empty.
“I’ve prayed a lot and I haven’t gotten any clear direction,” Ramona said, disappointment weighing down her voice.
“I haven’t gotten my answers from a loud, booming voice like something out of a movie,” Harry said, smiling at the idea. There were definitely times when he would have appreciated exactly that. “I consider my options. Sometimes I ask other people for their opinions and take wise counsel into account. I look at what the Scriptures say. And then I start taking steps toward the direction I’m drawn. Sometimes I make mistakes. But that’s unavoidable. I just repeat the same steps, make a course correction and try again.”
Ramona didn’t respond for a while and Harry wondered if his comments hadn’t been helpful or if he’d said the wrong thing.
“It’s just that I want a really clear answer because I hate making mistakes,” Ramona finally said.
Harry laughed, hard, from the pit of his stomach. “I know just how you feel—but I’m afraid there’s no avoiding it,” he said eventually. “It’s part of life.” And in that moment, it struck him that the advice he was giving to her was also true for himself. Obsessively trying to avoid making mistakes was useless.
Another thought slipped into his mind. Was it possible to love again? Not replace Willa, but move on toward having a family of his own, the dream he’d had since he and Willa got married? Was it time for him to step out and find out? Should he take that risk?
Fear, cold and hard, squeezed his lungs. In an instant, it felt as if he were back at the hospital in town, hearing the emergency room doctor telling him Willa was gone. He thought of the jumble of dark, desolate emotions that had tumbled through his mind for months in the aftermath of that terrible day.
Maybe he’d been fooling himself, saying that his fidelity to Willa was because of loyalty to her. Perhaps the true reason was that he didn’t believe he’d survive going through something like that again. No. He could not repeat the experience of losing the woman he loved. He didn’t need to step out to know that.
And now that he realized that, he needed to put some emotional distance between himself and Ramona. There was no sense in kidding himself. He had begun to feel a connection to her, a closeness that he’d allowed to grow because it was a feeling he’d missed for so long and was certain would never appear in his life again. But because he did care for Ramona, and because he could tell that she felt an attraction toward him, too, he had to pull back. He wouldn’t give her the impression that there was the possibility of a future together for the two of them. Because there wasn’t.
“I need to see my parents,” Ramona said as they pulled up to the ranch house.
Harry wasn’t surprised to hear her say that. She and her parents were obviously very close.
“I’d like help them at the diner for a little while. There’s office stuff I usually take care of and they’re running behind on some of it. They didn’t ask for my help. Given the situation with Darrin, I know they wouldn’t ask. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m letting them down.”
“Can’t they just let it go for now?” Harry asked as they walked into the house. “Or get someone else to do it?”
Ramona turned to him. “Someone is trying to murder their only child. They’re barely able to take care of the basics right now. Finding and hiring new staff isn’t really something they can manage.”
Cassie turned to them as they walked into the great room, and Harry explained the situation, certain that Cassie would back up his opinion that it was too risky. To his surprise, she didn’t.
“You can certainly make your own decisions and you’re free to come and go as you please,” Cassie said to Ramona. “You’ll be taking a chance, but sometimes that’s a reasonable thing to do. You could take one of the old ranch trucks since the bad guys know what Harry’s truck looks like—and take Martin with you. Maybe seeing your mom and dad will be a fresh reminder of what you’re fighting for. And maybe that will give you more strength to do whatever you have to if something really terrible happens in the future.”
* * *
Harry turned into the parking lot of Kitchen Table and slowed down to take a good look around. Ramona, who was seated beside him, and Martin were also checking the surroundings. Convinced that they hadn’t been followed and that no one was waiting to jump them in the parking lot, Harry pulled up to the employee entrance at the back of the diner and parked parallel to the building with the passenger side just a couple of feet from the door.
“Thank you for doing this,” Ramona said.
Harry cut the engine. The area wasn’t marked as a fire lane, so he planned to leave the battered old truck parked right here. “You’re welcome. But remember your promise to keep a low profile and to not let the visit drag on too long.”
She nodded. “I remember.”
He glanced at the dashboard clock. It was two o’clock. Ramona had told him that the lunch rush would be over around two and that the diner would be fairly quiet until people started showing up for dinner around four thirty.
By the time Harry got around the truck and over to her side, Ramona and Martin were already out and standing on the pavement.
“It’s funny, but you can really miss the mundane, routine parts of your life when you don’t have them anymore,” Ramona said. She used a key to open the back door and then stepped inside. Harry was right behind her, with Martin following them.
The first thing Harry noticed was the thick, rubber, nonskid matting covering most of the floor. The next thing to catch his attention was the mouthwatering scent wafting through the air. Apples, cinnamon, sugar and butter. “That smells delicious,” he said, feeling his stomach starting to growl.
“We’re famous for our pies,” Ramona said,
an obvious note of pride in her voice.
“The sign outside mentioned that.” Stone River was a small town, but not so small that Harry had eaten at every single restaurant. Apparently, he’d missed out on some good food by not stopping in here sooner.
He caught a flash of movement on his right side, discernible through the open shelving that was loaded with pots and pans and stacks of plates. He immediately reached for the gun holstered at his waist. But then Eric Miller appeared, rubbing his hands on his long, white chef’s apron.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Eric called out to his daughter.
Ramona stepped into his embrace, practically melting into it. This was what she had needed. Harry could see that now. Her family. Some familiarity. A hint of her old routine to remind her that life was worth fighting for even when hope was hard to find.
After Willa passed away, Harry had been in shock for at least a couple of weeks. It might have been longer. But after the shock, dark grief had kicked in. Sometimes it was hard for him to remember exactly how his life worked for those first few months after her death. His memories were a confusing blur.
And then, one day, Harry’s dad had asked him if he’d be willing to wash his dad’s truck for him. It was really muddy, but his dad claimed that he didn’t have time to wash it himself. Harry had done it, even though he had to concentrate hard to think of each of the steps involved in the process.
Tracking down the right cleaners and the sponges that they usually used to wash the vehicles on the ranch plus all the other necessary supplies felt like it took forever. The whole process definitely took him much longer than it should have. And when he was finally finished, his dad asked him to wash mom’s car.
Slowly, Harry had realized the power of doing something normal and routine. That it could help bring someone back into step with living after a traumatic experience shot them off on a cold and numbing trajectory.