by Dana Mentink
“Jane, I don’t want it to be like this.”
“Yes, you do,” she shouted, the fury and rage splashing out in a rush. “You’ve given up and you want to hand us over.”
He spun to face her. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. You are afraid to face your brother and you’ll abandon us.”
He stepped closer, a flash of anger on his face. “Look at me.”
She couldn’t. Instead she pounded her fists on her thighs in frustration. “I can’t love you and that’s what you want, so you’ll surrender us. If you can’t have us, no one will, just like your brother.”
He recoiled as if she’d slapped him. Then he squared his shoulders. “You don’t have to believe it,” he said, “but I would rather take a bullet than let any harm come to you and Ben, and I think deep down you know that.”
And she did. She bit her lip, tears running down her cheeks, mortified at what she’d said, at how she’d cut at him with the very sharpest words she could muster. I’m sorry, she wanted to say, but she could not get her mouth to do it through her chattering teeth. He led her to a rocking chair she had not noticed, guiding her into it and wrapping a blanket around her.
“This chair. It wasn’t here before.”
He tucked the blanket tighter. “Just an old glider rocker from a thrift store. Painted it up nice. Thought maybe Ben wasn’t too old for rocking. I...uh...probably shouldn’t have put it here, in light of...everything.”
In light of the fact that she’d shredded his heart. She simply could not reply, clamping her jaws tight together to hold in the ricocheting emotions.
“We’ll need to talk to Foley,” he said in a gentle tone. She wished he’d had some steel in it, some anger, which she deserved, but she could not weaken, could not be soft, not with her child’s fate in the balance.
“I will tell him what I decide,” she said, stressing the pronoun. She knew it was cruel, and he did not deserve it. But he’d as much as said he would not help her any more, and surrendering herself to the marshals could not be her only option. Surrender itself must never be her choice.
Mitch walked silently to the door and closed it behind him without looking back.
Slowly, she rocked in the chair, trying to soothe herself with the motion. For the briefest of moments she’d allowed herself to imagine that maybe God had a plan for her and her son here in Driftwood, to put down the most fragile beginnings of roots. Her desperate longing for a town that might be home to Ben, with a man who could be a rock for her and her son, was all just a dream.
She considered her reflection in the mirror, bloodied, bruised, defeated. She’d been wrong. Mitch could not protect her, and the sleepy little town could not be the sanctuary she’d craved.
She had only one remaining choice.
Run as far from Roughwater Ranch as she could.
TWENTY-TWO
Mitch sat down at the table with sick certainty in his stomach. He tried to shove aside the memories of what had just transpired with Jane. Foley sipped coffee and waited, a self-satisfied smile hovering around his mouth. On the carpet Liam played with Ben, building a complex tower and demolishing it. Mitch wasn’t sure who enjoyed the wrecking more, Liam or Ben.
When Ben wearied of the game, he rubbed his eyes and looked across the room right at Mitch. “’Nack, Uncle Moo Moo?”
Liam stared in puzzlement. “He wants a snack,” Mitch translated.
Liam cocked a grin at him. “You’ve learned to speak toddler, Uncle Moo Moo. Well done.”
Mitch held out his hand to Ben, who scooped up Catty Cat, wandered over and held out his hands. Mitch shifted. “Uh...”
“He wants you to pick him up,” Liam said with a laugh. “I guess you haven’t mastered the toddler nonverbal yet, Moo.”
Mitch reached down, and Ben climbed into his arms. He carried him into the kitchen, marveling at the featherweight bundle of boy. So small, so perfect, so filled with love and curiosity. Ben snuggled, leaning his head against Mitch’s chest. He was humming something about horses.
Mitch sat him at the table. “What would you like to eat, Ben?”
“Cookies?”
“Does Mommy let you have cookies before lunch?”
Ben nodded earnestly, and Mitch had to laugh. “I have an idea.” He stuck a piece of bread in the toaster. When it popped out, he added a coating of butter and a tiny sprinkle of sugar and cinnamon. He figured it had less bad stuff than a cookie. Before he handed it to Ben, he took a knife and cut the bread into a rough horse shape.
Ben’s eyes rounded as he slid the snack in front of him. “Horse.”
“Yes,” Mitch said, ridiculously pleased that Ben was impressed with his crude bread carving.
“Catty Cat, too?”
“I don’t think cats eat toast.” But he found a bowl and poured a splash of milk in it for the kitten.
Ben folded his hands and waited for Mitch to do the same. It took Mitch a moment to figure out praying was in order. Then Ben bowed his head and said, “Tank you, Father, for the ’nack.”
The words sent an arrow straight to Mitch’s core. So simple, a thank-you from a child fathered by an evil man and still so full of love he just about brimmed over with it. Mitch found it hard to breathe. Something inside him was twisting and morphing like molten steel on the blacksmith’s anvil. The beauty of Ben’s simple trust mirrored his mother’s and peeled away Mitch’s inner seal with fiery intensity. Ben’s God, Jane’s God, could be his God, too. The notion dizzied him. This love, the downright opposite of evil, could be his, if he managed to turn away from his blistered past. The goodness spread in front of him like a feast, and the thought of partaking undid him.
He was grateful that Ben did not seem to mind his silence, munching at the toast and drinking milk that left him with a white mustache. All of a sudden, the child jerked a look toward the window.
Mitch followed his gaze to find a peregrine falcon soaring over the ranch, wings spread in feathered splendor. Mitch scooped Ben up and they both stood at the glass, admiring the majestic path of the bird as it glided over the windswept pastures.
“Birdie,” Ben said, sticky hands cupping Mitch’s cheeks in excitement.
“That’s a falcon, Ben,” he said, in awe of the sheer joy he felt at sharing time with the boy.
“Ohhh,” Ben said. “Falcon.”
“That’s right.” Something trickled through Mitch’s mind. The detail floated on the edges of his grasp as Ben reached up and gently patted the scar on his cheek.
His eyes were somber. He peered into Mitch’s face and skimmed his fingertips over the puckered flesh. “Owie?”
Mitch cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s an owie.”
With concentrated effort, Ben kissed the tip of his finger and pressed it to Mitch’s scar, like he’d seen his mother do. Mitch’s vision went fuzzy with tears, and he gulped. How he loved this boy...and his mother.
“All better?” Ben asked.
“Yes,” he managed. “All better.”
With his breath still hitched in his throat, he wiped Ben’s hands and went to find Jane. He could not decipher the expression on her face, and he hoped his own wasn’t too fogged from the precious moments he’d spent with Ben. “He was hungry. I fixed him a snack.”
“Thank you,” she said without meeting Mitch’s eyes. “I’ll just put him down for a nap.” She emerged from her room a short time later, composed, he guessed, from whatever decision she’d come to.
Foley pushed his coffee cup away at her approach. “I’m sorry for what happened today,” he said. “And I understand why you didn’t want to make it public that you have Wade’s son.”
Jane’s jaw clenched.
“I’m sorry. I know Ben is your son.” He lifted a shoulder. “But you get it now, right? There’s no way to ensure your safety or his unless we b
ring you in.” His look drifted to Mitch. “Mitch had things go his way once when he put Wade behind bars, but not this time. He can’t help you. I can.”
Mitch watched, dread coursing through him. He knew what her answer should be and understood it meant he would likely never see her or Ben again. It was justified—he’d failed her, and what was more, he’d fallen in love with her and her son, which only added to her burdens. For that, he would not forgive himself, and he would try with all his might not to make it any harder than it had to be.
Foley straightened. “My phone, sorry.” His mouth tightened as he listened. “On my way.” He disconnected. “That was Patron. He says they’ve spotted the car Wade was driving near a motel in Copper Top.”
“That’s twenty miles from here,” Mitch informed Jane. Though he wanted to hope, to believe that this might possibly be the end, he could not bring himself to credit it.
“I’ve gotta go,” Foley said. “I’ll call you when I know something. In the meantime, I’ll get an officer posted nearby to keep eyes on the ranch. Wade won’t make a move, because he knows folks are armed around here.”
“That’s certain,” Uncle Gus said. “And we decide who gets past the gate and who doesn’t.”
Liam nodded his silent-lipped agreement.
“And Chad’s gone up to the tower to take a turn at watch,” Aunt Ginny added. “It’s not a proper castle,” she said with a smile at Jane, “just a room I use for my office, but it’s got almost a 360-degree view of the property. If anyone comes, Chad will know, and he’s an excellent shot, so...”
Jane worried her lower lip between her teeth. “But the photo...” she said. “It was taken at the ranch.”
“At long range with a telephoto lens,” Foley finished.
Which implied an expensive camera... A thought snapped into place.
Mitch waited until Foley left. “I have to go check on something.”
“You need me to come?” Liam said.
“No, need you here. Chad, too.”
Liam frowned, but he didn’t object.
Mitch turned to Jane. “I can’t tell you what decision to make, but please stay here until I get back.”
She tilted her head, and he knew. She was going to run. Having felt the weight of a child against his heart, seen the pure trust in Ben’s blue eyes, he figured he finally understood why she would risk everything, every last thing including her own life, to save Ben’s. Sacrifice like that could only be a divine thing. He got it. He finally got it.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Please,” he said. “Please be here when I get back.”
She didn’t answer. He had a chance, a slim shot to make things right—not because of guilt, but because of love.
* * *
Jane stayed with Ben, reading books, playing with the train Mitch had made him, watching from the window to see some of the hands coming and going from their pasture duties. They were all trusted members of the extended Whitehorse clan. She knew they were aware of the reputation she brought, the hatred she’d awakened in some of the townspeople, but she’d felt nothing from them but quiet support. If Aunt Ginny, Gus, Liam and Mitch vouched for Jane, that was good enough.
She relived the last moment with Mitch. Please...please be here when I get back. How she wanted to, how her heart longed to settle into the warm comfort of his care, his devotion and love, which he’d offered but she could not accept. Loving him meant staying, trusting, allowing her future and her son’s to rest squarely in the hands of another man, another Whitehorse. As much as she craved it, she knew she must not allow it.
Ben lay down across her lap and cuddled with Catty Cat. Helen arrived and joined them, chatting about nothing in particular. Jane appreciated the distraction, easing the minutes along as they ticked closer to her departure. Darkness would be her only help.
Aunt Ginny approached and handed her the house phone. “It’s a call for you,” she said. For a fleeting moment, Jane’s heart leaped at the thought that it might be Mitch or Foley with news that would restore her future. She gripped the phone.
“Jane?”
She heaved out a breath of both relief and disappointment. “Bette. Are you okay? I’ve been so worried about you.” Jane nodded to Helen, who was starting in on a rousing game of blocks with Ben under the kitten’s close supervision.
She moved to the guest room, clutching the phone tight. “Where are you?”
“In my car. I’ve been sleeping in it, moving around some, trying to decide what to do. I heard in town—I mean, I heard he took you, but you got away. I’m glad. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
“Oh, Bette. Do you think Wade saw you?”
“No, no, I’m pretty sure.”
“Then you can get away. Even if he did spot you, it’s okay. He...he’s after me.”
“But he told me no one gets to leave him, ever. He said we were ‘his women.’” Jane heard the quiver in Bette’s voice. “I thought, I mean, your letter was so nice. Remember what you said in it?”
She did, the tearstained words she’d labored over for hours.
I would do anything to be able to go back and make it right, to hear and notice and see what Wade was doing, to free you from that underground room. Since I can’t do that, I want you to know that if I ever have the opportunity, I will help you in any way I can. In the meantime, I will pray for you.
Bette’s words snapped her back to the present. “I don’t have anybody. I got married young, at eighteen, but my husband left me right after I got my nursing degree. That was a year before Wade. After, I mean, I tried to go back to nursing, but I couldn’t concentrate anymore. I tried to reenroll in college for my master’s, to make new friends, but I couldn’t seem to restart my life.”
“I understand.” Jane wished she could reach through the connection and hold Bette’s hand, help her like she’d promised.
“You’re the only one in the world who can, I guess.” Bette sniffed. “What are you going to do?”
She fell silent for a moment. When she didn’t answer, Bette spoke up.
“You can come with me. I have an apartment in SoCal. We can share it, watch each other’s backs.”
Jane blinked back tears. “I can’t.”
Bette’s voice sharpened. “I get it. You’ve got other people, and you don’t need me.”
“It’s not that. Wade is coming after me, and no one is safe if I’m nearby.”
Bette let out a long, low sigh. “Okay. It would have been nice, though, to have a friend.”
“It’s not too late for you,” Jane said. “Get your master’s or find a job you love—the friends will fall into place. I’m sure of it.”
“So weird that you would be offering me advice,” Bette said. “But I’m grateful. You must be some kind of lady to be Wade’s ex-wife.”
Jane felt the tears flow down her face for this lost soul. Though she had survived her encounter with Wade, she was still imprisoned by him. Before she had time to reconsider, she gave Bette her cell number.
“I don’t know when I’ll be able to settle somewhere,” Jane said, “but we can be in touch someday. You can tell me when you’ve restarted your life, okay?”
“You’re going to run, aren’t you?”
“Best if you don’t know my plans.”
“All right. I guess I’d better go.”
“Me, too. God bless, Bette.”
But she had already disconnected.
TWENTY-THREE
Mitch called Elaine Barber’s number on the back of the card she’d given him. No answer, so he left a message.
“We have to talk. Now.”
She had access to the town, she’d known where Nana Jo and Ben had been staying, and she had a real nice camera. What better person to be feeding information to Wade? He should have guessed before that she might be the one who
had been sending letters to Wade in prison and now she was his support, his home base. It had taken only one phone call to the West Coast Bee to discover they’d never heard of an Elaine Barber.
Rusty, Mitch. He prowled the town, looking for Barber, poking his head into the coffee shop, the hardware store. He finally pulled up at the gas station, where Eddie polished the pumps. Eddie had retired from his work as a health inspector, and he channeled all his energy into the station he’d bought a decade back—Eddie’s gas station was cleaner than some restaurants where Mitch had eaten. Eddie removed his sun hat and listened, rubbing his speckled bald head.
“Saw her this morning. She filled up early, just like last week.”
“Last week? She’s filled up twice in that time?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Asked about your kin, too.”
Mitch blew out a breath. “Everybody wants to know about Wade.”
“Not Wade.”
Nerves fired along Mitch’s extremities, lifting the hairs on his arms. “Who?”
“Your pops.”
He nodded thanks and ran to his truck, dialing his father’s number as he went.
One ring. Two, three, no answer.
He could be out for a walk, fishing, making a run to the hardware store, anyplace. But the mantra rolled through Mitch’s mind.
Three things...money, communication, a base of operations. Wade could secure all three of those things at Pops’s place, especially with Elaine Barber’s help.
He could make it to his father’s by truck, but it would be faster on horseback. The stop at the ranch took only a few minutes, and though he waved to Chad up in the tower, he did not slow to give a report. He knew Liam, Chad and Gus would insist on coming with him. It would not do. He wanted all their guns ready for Wade if he showed up, and besides, if anything happened to any of them trying to bring down his brother... No. Wade would not have anyone else. No more victims. Not this time or any time. It would end today.
He messaged Foley, who didn’t answer his phone, urged Rosie to a trot as he found the head of the trail that bisected the pastureland, aiming directly for the coast. The morning sun had blossomed earlier but had been replaced by an oppressive gray cloud cover. Rosie moved easily up the trail, her strong flanks taking the slope in stride. Like the good horse she was, she sensed his urgency, and by the time they reached the sloping part of the trail, she was galloping, the wind catching her mane. He leaned low and let her have her way, his gut churning with everything in him.