Jesse: Merry Christmas, Cowboy

by Lynnette Kent

  “Yeah. I had a phone call today from Walker. Also Dusty and Dex and Elly. Each of them yelled at me for leaving last night. And then they each gave me their version of the situation and what we could do.” He let his chin sink to his chest. “I told them Dad’s a competent adult. He’ll make his own decisions on this, and all we can do is support him. None of us, not even Mom, is in control.”

  “It’s natural for them to look to you. You’re the oldest.”

  “I should have left a message giving them Mark’s number. He’s the oldest.” He didn’t avoid the glance Janie sent his way. “I’m not being mean. There’s just nothing else I can say.”

  She nodded and resumed her work. They talked off and on during the process, about how her genetics final had gone last week and when the rodeo season would start up again in January. Jesse watched her massage Sundae’s back, shoulders and neck, and his own body started to ache.

  “I could use a good massage,” he said as she began to pack up her supplies. “What do you think?”

  She smiled as she came across the stall. “I think your idea of a massage is not the same as Sundae’s.”

  They stepped out into the aisle, he made sure the stall door fastened and then turned to set his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t know about that. Sundae stayed a stallion for six years. He probably has lots of good memories.”

  Her palms cupped his elbows. “Memories are all he has these days, I guess.” She lifted her face, and her lips parted in a sweet, sexy smile.

  “Poor guy.” He took a kiss. And another. “Making memories is so much better than just—”

  “Remembering them?” Janie laughed up at him.

  “Exactly.” Slipping his palms down her back, he drew her close. “Like this.”

  Las Vegas. Montana. And now at home. Where he kissed Janie Hansen didn’t seem to matter—each encounter consumed more of him. Each kiss burned hotter, and his desire flared higher. At this rate, he wasn’t sure he’d last a lifetime before burning up.

  But what a way to go.

  When he lifted his head the next time, they were leaning against the wall. Her shirt was unbuttoned, the front clip on her lacy black bra unfastened. His shirttail hung outside his pants. And he was crazy with need.

  “My house is empty,” he said as she dragged her mouth across the hollow behind his jaw. “Let me take you. There.” Her tongue touched his skin. “Please.”

  Janie kissed his jaw, his chin, his temple and his mouth. But then, with a sigh, she pulled back. “I have to go home.” Her hands shook as she tried to put her clothes back where they belonged. “Alma won’t stay all night. So I…can’t stay here.”

  Frustration slammed into his gut. He’d felt this tightness in his belly once before, after being kicked by a two-ton bull. Yet he knew he couldn’t argue. Janie was right to put her mother first. This was just sex. Right?

  Like hell, came the answer.

  It didn’t change what had to happen. Janie would be going home and he would take a cold shower.

  The reason, though, made a whole lot of sense. This was what you did for the woman you loved.

  “Okay.” He tried to help her with her buttons but their fingers tangled together, so he stepped back and kept her coat folded over his arm until she was ready for it. They held hands on the walk to her truck, and Jesse managed to keep their goodbye kisses out of the incendiary zone. Barely.

  “See you tomorrow early,” he told her, brushing the hair he’d loosened behind her shoulder. “Drive safe.”

  “You, too.” She smiled at him, touching his cheek. “’Night, Jesse.”

  “Sleep tight.”

  He watched the taillights of her old truck disappear into the darkness before getting into his own vehicle for the three-mile sprint to the coldest shower in town.

  ALL THE STRESS, THE LATE nights and missed sleep finally caught up with Jesse. He didn’t wake up until almost ten on Tuesday, missing Janie’s visit to the barn and almost missing breakfast, as well. A glance out the kitchen window showed him a heavy gray sky just now beginning to spit a mix of ice pellets and flakes. Six to eight inches were forecast for today and tonight, followed by colder temperatures that would keep snow on the ground through the holiday. A white Christmas was on its way.

  The Cottonwood Ranch gave its workers as much time off as possible during the holidays. The cowboys took short shifts, with a skeleton crew going out morning and evening to spread hay for the cattle. The Codys, themselves, looked after their own horses, along with the animals in the barns and the paddocks nearby. Everybody tried to relax, to take their time and just enjoy the season’s pleasures—Mom’s cooking, the decorations and the carols and the chance to be together. Family was the essence of a Cody Christmas.

  This one might be different, given the family’s changed circumstances. Jesse wasn’t sure exactly how they were supposed to celebrate when J.W. had developed this serious illness. Sure, men came down with prostate cancer all the time, got treated and appeared cured.

  But some of them died. And Jesse wasn’t ready for that. As aggravating as his father could be, as furious and confused as Jesse felt over the Mark Hansen issue, he wanted his dad around to argue about it.

  Of course, typical of J.W., he’d turned the situation to his advantage, deciding to reorganize the family business and rewrite his will at a point where no one would want to upset him because “Dad is sick.” This was probably the plot Janie had sensed in Las Vegas—J.W. getting his own way. Mark Hansen might not have spent much time with the rest of the family, but he’d have to be a cold man to argue with a cancer patient.

  Moving slower than usual, Jesse got to the barns around noon and took care of the lunchtime feedings—grazing animals did best with small amounts of food throughout the day rather than huge meals spaced twelve hours apart, though they could adjust if they had to. Elly had made up a chore schedule and posted it on the barn bulletin board, and he checked off Tuesday midday as a signal that the task had been taken care of. Stalled animals didn’t get much exercise, so their rations had to be downsized accordingly. Seconds at lunch were not allowed.

  His footsteps echoed on the concrete floors as he walked through the stallion barn, today occupied only by the horses and him. He enjoyed the peace of the buildings without people in them. Humans always had a purpose, an agenda, to keep them hurrying forward. Animals, on the other hand, simply lived the day.

  As he came into the cattle barn, however, Jesse heard two male voices…or else one man talking to himself. The tones seemed almost identical. He followed the sound, softening his footsteps, until he located the conversation in the big conference room near the ranch office.

  The door stood slightly ajar, and he could identify the speakers now—J.W. and Mark. Maybe J.W. had chosen this time when nobody was around to conduct the threatened—er, promised—interview having to do with rewriting his will.

  Jesse did not intend to eavesdrop. But just as he turned toward his office and the exit door, their voices raised and words became distinct.

  “Look, J.W., I appreciate what you’re offering.” Mark Hansen sounded frustrated. “I’m just not sure that it’s what Nicki and I want for our life.”

  “How could you not want a part of all this?”

  Jaw clenched, Jesse could picture his dad’s gesture—widespread arms embracing the Cottonwood Ranch and the whole Cody empire.

  J.W. continued his sales pitch. “I’m not proposing to make you rich, son.”

  Jesse fisted his hands at his sides.

  “But you’ll need a homestead, and this little property I’ve got my eye on would be perfect. I’ll give it to you and Nicki as a wedding gift, throw a prize Cody bull or two and some cows in for Christmas. What happens then is up to you.”

  “That’s really generous, J.W. But—”

  “I’ve got this bull breeding program, son, and nobody to supervise while I’m getting through this cancer thing. You could do that for me.”

  Mark w
as silent for a minute. “I think it’s too much, too soon.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” J.W. didn’t like being told no.

  “Three months ago, I had no idea you were my father. I—”

  “That’s bull. I think you’ve known for years you didn’t belong to that drunkard.”

  “You’re wrong.” A chair scraped across the floor. “And I’ll thank you to be respectful.” Another pause. “Anyway, I just want time to become comfortable with you and the rest of the family. Then I can think about how involved I want to be with your business.”

  “Your business, too. I’ll be dividing my interests among you kids in my will. Wouldn’t you like to work with me, get a feel for things before you have to run the show by yourself?”

  “I hope that’ll be a long, long time from now.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. It would be good to have you working as a Cody as soon as possible. And—I know this is a tough one—I’d really like you to consider taking my name.”

  “What?” Mark’s voice echoed Jesse’s shock.

  “Makes sense. You’re a Cody—why not make it legal and official?”

  After a pause, Mark said, “No.”

  “Think about it, son. The advantages—”

  “No.” Louder. Footsteps approached the door, then stopped. “You know, you’ve got a lot of gall, suggesting something like that. You must think the Cody name is right up there with God Almighty.”

  “Now who’s being disrespectful?”

  “Thirty-one years, dammit! For thirty-one years you ignored my very existence. I didn’t get a look from you if we passed on the sidewalk. All those junior rodeos—you showed up with your ‘real’ sons, but did I ever get so much as a nod when I beat their pants off?”

  “I had my reasons. I could never be sure you were my son.”

  “You might have asked. Or you could have opened the letter she wrote.”

  Without thinking further, Jesse stepped through the conference room door. “What did you just say?”

  Both men jerked around to stare at him.

  “That’s right.” Mark propped his hands on his hips. “Janie found a note in Mom’s papers a couple of years ago. She wrote to your dad, wanting to talk to him about the situation. But he couldn’t even be bothered to read the damn thing. He sent it back unopened.”

  Jesse stared at his dad. “What kind of man are you?”

  J.W. levered himself out of his chair and came to stand between Mark and Jesse. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I never saw a letter.”

  Mark snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s about the only excuse for your behavior. Too bad—”

  Gripping Mark’s elbow with a still-powerful hand, J.W. turned him so they stood face-to-face. “I swear to God, and on this land I love as I love my own life. I never saw a letter from your mother.”

  Feeling a hollow under his ribs like he’d just been sucker punched, Jesse dropped into the nearest chair. He braced his elbows on his knees and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  “Then who?” He asked the question with his face still hidden. “Who tried to prevent J.W. from knowing about his other son?”

  Chapter Twelve

  The front door slammed with the thundering crack of a nearby lightning strike.

  Coatless and hatless, Jesse stormed across the en try hall and down the hallway to the doorway of Anne’s office. She got to her feet as he halted on the thresh old, shoulders heaving with the force of his breath.

  “Tell me.” His mellow voice emerged in a growl. “Tell me you didn’t do this.”

  Anne supported herself with her hands flat on the desktop. “Do what?” Hope flickered feebly in her heart.

  “There was…a letter. From Abby Hansen.”

  The last spark winked out. “Yes.”

  “You sent it back without letting Dad see it?”

  She drew a deep breath. “Yes.”

  Her son’s face contorted with pain. “Dammit, Mother. Why?” He dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “How could you be so cruel? You, of all people?”

  “Jesse.” She left the shelter of her desk and crossed the room to put her hand on his arm. “Please, son, try to understand.”

  But Jesse jerked away from her touch. He walked to the window wall overlooking the backyard and Cottonwood Creek, where snow now fell thick and fast. “I will never understand how you could separate a man and his son.”

  “I didn’t know she was pregnant when I sent the letter back. I didn’t read it.”

  “You would have noticed, soon enough. I thought family meant everything to you.”

  “It does!” She came to stand behind him, but folded her arms around herself. “My family, Jesse, is more important to me than my own life. That’s why I had to…had to—”

  “Shut the bastard out? For God’s sake, Mother, he was a baby. A little boy.” Jesse covered his face with his hands. “He looks just like Dad.”

  “But what would have happened, Jesse, if your father had tried to do right by two families? Two women?” She moved around to his side. “I was so afraid of losing him. Who could say that John Walker wouldn’t choose to be with her? She was pregnant, and I wasn’t. I’d lost my baby. Would I ever have another one?”

  Jesse wiped one shirtsleeve across his eyes, then the other.

  Anne cleared her throat. “If her child was the only Cody baby, I might have lost my husband. I loved him so much, Jesse. I couldn’t bear the thought. And then, when I did get pregnant…all I could think about was protecting that baby. Protecting you. Making sure that your father was present every single day to love you and teach you and give you what you deserved as his son.”

  “And so you sentenced that other kid to life with an abusive alcoholic who never provided a decent standard of living for his wife and kids. Am I supposed to thank you?”

  “If you could just realize—”

  “Oh, I realize. I realize that my entire life has been perfect, at the expense of another human being whose only fault was being conceived without a marriage license. That all the years I’ve fought and struggled to make Dad proud were just wasted effort.”

  “Jesse, no!”

  “Oh, yes. I never stood a chance of actually being good enough on my own, because who and what I am, as an individual, never really mattered. All that counts is the label. I’m the lucky one born with the name Cody and so I get the prizes—the money, the gifts, the job and the land and—and—”

  He wheeled away, but not before a graveled sound, half laugh and half sob, escaped.

  Anne let her own tears fall unheeded.

  Jesse came to rest in front of a bookcase, where photographs of the kids going back as far as first grade shared the shelves with trophies and handmade gifts. He fingered different objects, moving from one to the next with a shaking hand. Finally, he picked up a small plate, decorated beneath the glaze with two bright red hand-prints. The words World’s Best Mom and Love, Jesse Cody painted in shaky cursive letters, arched around the edge.

  “I remember making this,” he said. “Fourth grade. You were the brightest, best person in my world.”

  She extended a hand, pleading. If he destroyed the plate, she didn’t think she could bear it.

  Her son, her blue-eyed cherub, flashed a cold glance in her direction. “No, I’m not going to break it. I’m not much into symbolic gestures.” Carefully, he set the plate back on its stand. “I’m going to let you keep that re minder of everything you meant to me. Then.”

  His shoulders lifted on a breath, and the tension flowed out of his body. “I’m not even going to stamp out in a rage and swear never to darken this doorway again. The family’s got some hard times approaching, with Dad being sick. These days will be tough on you, since you love him so much.”

  Anne winced as she heard the edge of sarcasm in his words.

  “Just know what you’ve done to that little boy.” He tilted his head toward the plate. “I’ve be
en mad at Dad since I discovered who Mark’s father had to be. But I never thought J. W. Cody was perfect. He’s al ways walked a fine line between hero and outlaw. That’s just who he is.

  “No, I saved my illusions for you. I looked at you and I knew what being good meant. I wanted to follow your example.”

  Shaking his head, Jesse returned to the door. “I guess it’s just another demonstration of my Cody luck—I made it all the way to the ripe old age of thirty before my illusions got shattered.” He shut the front door quietly as he left.

  RUTH AND LESLIE PEARSOLL had wanted to go into Cody for a Christmas concert, so Janie told them she would close the store and lock up for the night. She never felt nervous being alone—Markton wasn’t the kind of place serial killers liked to hang out. Strangers stuck out like a sore thumb. And she counted all the citizens as her friends. No one would think to hurt her.

  Still, she had to admit to a little jump of nerves when she stepped out the back door of the store into the heavy snow and saw a truck parked next to hers. In the next second, she recognized the Cottonwood Ranch sign on the door panel. Jesse was here.

  Unfortunately, the thought didn’t soothe her anxiety. Distracted by his kisses, she’d failed in her plan to tell him about the letter last night, and the barn had been empty except for the animals this morning.

  Was now the time?

  She swallowed hard, crossed the powder-coated parking lot to the truck’s passenger side and opened the door. “Hey, cowboy. Looking for some company?”

  “Sure,” he said. But he didn’t smile. “Climb in.”

  He’d left the engine and the heater on, so she settled herself in the seat and unbuttoned her coat. “I didn’t expect to see you until later, at the barn. What’s going on?”

  With his right wrist propped on the steering wheel, Jesse stared at the snow piling up on the windshield. “We had a little drama today out at the ranch.”

  “Is everybody okay? Is Sundae all right?”

  “Sundae’s fine.”

  “Who isn’t?” She waited through a long silence.

  “There was a letter.”