Christmas at Cade Ranch

by Karen Rock

  He would always be vigilant in preventing negative forces from infiltrating their clan as they had with Jesse.

  His brothers and sister quieted and joined him a moment later, fanning out on either side, their solid support palpable. Despite the tweaking, quarreling and outright brawling, especially Jewel and that fierce uppercut of hers, they always had each other’s backs.

  The terrain grew gentler, rolling. Below, on the level floor of the valley, lay the rambling old ranch house with cabins nestling around and the corrals leading out to the soft, snow-dusted hay fields, misty and gray in twilight. A single light gleamed like a beacon.

  Home.

  His spirits lifted.

  An hour later, showered and ravenous, he tromped up the front porch of his family’s main house. Built with rough-hewn cedar, it seemed to spring from the earth, a part of the landscape, its lines as majestic as its surrounding mountains.

  Log pillars held up a steep, snow-covered portico and peaked gables broke up the roofline. Numerous windows gleamed in the dark. They must have cost a fortune when they’d been installed. 1882. The year his gold-mining, prospecting ancestor stumbled on a lucky strike that’d made his fortune and allowed him to purchase the property.

  He pushed through the screen door and stopped short at the scene before him. No set table. No meat loaf. Where was his mother? She must have had another tough day. His chest squeezed.

  Then his eyes alighted on his ma holding hands with a dark-haired young woman.

  “James!” Ma exclaimed and stood, as did the stranger. She was slim and tall, her midnight hair a thick tangle around a beautiful face the color of a candle’s glow, her obsidian eyes wide. They shifted out from under his direct gaze, her nervous reaction instantly jangling his suspicious nature. A child stopped waving a wooden spoon like it was a sword and stared with large, unblinking eyes, as though sizing up a threat.

  “Is it that time already?” His mother’s hand fluttered to her cross necklace and she twisted it. “We must have gotten sidetracked. Sofia, this is my second eldest, James. James, this is Sofia Gallardo, mother of Jesse’s child, Javi, my first grandson and your nephew. Isn’t it a miracle?”

  And just like that, the safe haven he’d labored to create turned itself inside out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  PULL BACK. STEADY. Steady. Don’t come off the vein.

  Blood rushed in the half-full syringe, curling red. Sofia held her arm still and slowly pushed the plunger. She wanted to make this last. Anticipation sizzled over her nerves.

  Pull it out again. The blood swirled back inside.

  Now. Squeeze.

  This was what she wanted. Yes. Here it was. The rush. It flooded up her arm and tingled.

  Then it hit. It was like a mini explosion of unadulterated pleasure.

  Everything turned blissful and beautiful. And she loved everything. It was a pure joy to be alive, to have a body; a heavenly awareness.

  The hand of God, cradling her to sleep.

  Sleep.

  No.

  Don’t go to sleep.

  Don’t. Go. To. Sleep.

  Sofia lurched upright in bed, and her gasp cracked through the small, dark room. Her heart thrummed, deafening in her ears, almost painful. Was she having a heart attack?

  Had she taken a bad hit?

  She groped for the syringe and came up empty. Where? Where? Where?

  “Mama?”

  She shoved her hair from her hot face and peered at the small shape hovering by her bed.

  “Javi?”

  His eyes looked as big as saucers. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She hoisted him up and pulled him close. “I just had a bad dream.”

  Terrifyingly real.

  Remembering the good was worse than the bad.

  “A monster?”

  “A big one,” she said, recalling the horrible creature she’d once been—thinking of nothing, no one, but her next fix.

  She rested her cheek on Javi’s head and strove to calm her breathing. Kids needed their parents to protect them, but in her case, it felt the other way around. She’d gotten sober for Javi, and because of him she stayed on the straight and narrow.

  “I can sleep with you till you feel better,” he whispered around what sounded like his thumb. A flash of worry popped inside. The old habit reappeared whenever he felt stressed.

  “I’d like that, sweetie. Thanks.”

  Ten minutes later, Sofia stared up into dark and listened to Javi’s soft, regular breathing.

  Another addiction dream.

  She squished her pricking eyes shut. Foolish her for hoping the nightmares would end after she’d left her drug-ridden neighborhood. She’d finally escaped, yet her addiction followed, a zombielike thing lurching toward her up US 285 from Albuquerque to drag her and Javi down.

  No.

  She had to stay one step ahead and get farther away than Colorado. Another coast. Maybe even a different country.

  You cannot fall.

  Though you could, whispered another voice. You know how easy it would be. An innocent mistake, even. Never meaning harm, exactly...

  Prescription pills were more addictive than heroin.

  She clamped her hands over her ears, a useless move since the taunting rose from within, the horrible refrain of her lonely life. She blew out a breath, disentangled Javi’s limbs from hers and slid out of bed. She needed air.

  After slipping on a thick robe and slippers, Sofia eased out of the room. She padded down the staircase, pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the porch.

  The black night folded around Cade Ranch like velvet, as cold and soft as a bat’s wing. The storm had cleared, and overhead, glinting stars clustered. She inhaled the aroma of the rich, slumbering earth. It seemed to hold the mystery of nature and life, a smell that, in a strange way, soothed her some, gave her a tiny bit of hope. As if she, like the rest of the world, could afford to settle down, too, for a bit.

  She leaned on the banister and peered into the night. Her heart lifted at the majestic vista. The Rocky Mountains’ shadowed outlines scaled the distant horizon. They surrounded the ranch’s valley in a semicircle, stone sentinels guarding against the outside world, shielding and protecting this isolated countryside.

  But could they protect her—and Javi—from herself?

  It was a constant gnawing fear.

  One she bore alone.

  But how strong could one person be?

  Why didn’t you ever tell them about us? she silently asked Jesse, her eyes on the sky, her leaden heart at her feet. Why didn’t you come back for us? Were you ashamed? Incapable? Afraid?

  She wished she and Javi could settle here, but Jesse’s tragedy was also her tragedy. His addiction story hers. Shared history. She could never be someone else, someone worthy of being Javi’s mother, around a family who’d already lost a drug-abusing son, people who knew who she really was, who she might turn into if she wasn’t careful.

  At a light cough, she jumped. A dark figure detached itself from the shadows, and she stumbled back, panic scrambling over her skin. A newel post stopped her flight. When she spun around, a firm hand landed on her upper arm and checked her momentum.

  “It’s me. James.”

  His rich baritone cut through her flustered fog. James. One of Jesse’s older brothers. The strict, reserved one. He hadn’t said much earlier as she and Joy had slapped sandwiches together to feed the rest of the boisterous Cade clan. In fact, he hadn’t spoken at all. As he ate, he’d simply watched while his siblings peppered her with questions. They’d seemed to accept her and Javi immediately. James, however, had held back, his shuttered expression hard to read.

  It’d made her nervous.

  He made her nervous
.

  Her past experience with controlling men like her father had taught her to be wary of them as triggers for her addiction.

  She shivered and crossed her arms. You’re free now, she reminded herself, firmly. Javi got you sober. No more worrying.

  Right?

  Her recent nightmare, however, told another tale.

  And now she stood alone with James in the dead of night. Anxious awareness zipped along her nerve endings.

  “What—what are you doing out here?” she gasped, her words full of air and apprehension.

  Moon rays illuminated the tall, rangy man. He had wide shoulders, a slightly crooked nose and incredibly long eyelashes that would have made a handsome man look effeminate. Instead, they made this rugged cowboy a tiny bit beautiful. His full lips twisted. “I live here.”

  She checked her eye roll. “Right. Well. Night.” She turned to leave but his voice stopped her.

  “Tell me about Jesse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The stuff you left out earlier because Javi was listening. Why didn’t Jesse tell us about you?” He leaned against the railing, folded his arms on his chest and peered down at her from his great height. She could make out the pronounced curve of his biceps beneath his white thermal shirtsleeves. He looked strong. A man used to getting what he wanted... And now he wanted her to talk about a time she’d rather forget.

  Not happening.

  Thinking, talking, reliving her darkest hours was like walking backward on broken glass, each word drawing blood.

  She licked dry lips. “I don’t know why he kept us a secret.”

  You threw him out... Told him never to contact you again until he was sure he was completely sober...heartless woman...

  “Jesse loved children.”

  Not Javi...not more than drugs, anyway, and the pain of that thought pierced her side. “Jesse’s not here to explain himself. There’s nothing more I can tell you.”

  “Or nothing more that you want to tell me.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked, stung by his answer. It struck too close to the truth.

  “I’ve been called a lot of names in my life.” He squinted at her. “Fool isn’t one of them.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “That you’re hiding something.” He leaned a hand on the newel post behind her, his proximity hemming her in. She ducked from beneath his arm and spoke over her shoulder, avoiding him, just as she dodged all confrontations. Physically remove yourself from bad situations, her rehab counselor had told her, before you explore other ways to escape.

  She’d hung on to those words all these years. They were some of the rare bits of sobriety advice she’d received, given she’d never attended any NA meetings. Without childcare, she’d struggled to go. Besides, she’d told herself she didn’t need extra help when she only had to look at her child to know why she had to stay sober. “I’d better go in.”

  “Please stay.”

  “No, really, I—”

  “Humor me. You are under my roof...”

  She bristled at his tone, recalling it from her youth, the oppressive sound of her father. She’d checked out of her prison-like, motherless childhood the only way she thought she could, starting with prescription pills a school friend promised would take everything away, including a painful sports injury. It’d seemed innocent at first. Fun. Rebellious without causing any real trouble. Who didn’t have pills in their bathroom cabinets? And the painkillers had taken away everything...including herself. When her need to stay numb had gotten too expensive, she’d turned to heroin, a cheaper, deadlier fix.

  “This is Joy’s home,” she protested to James, projecting calmness despite the pressure building inside.

  “I run the place, and I’m part owner with my brothers and sister.”

  “Joy invited me. I’m her guest.”

  “And how did that happen?” He lifted one of his thick, slanted eyebrows.

  “I lost my wallet. Otherwise we’d be in Oregon.”

  “You didn’t plan on meeting the rest of us? Even for your son’s sake?” Suspicion edged his voice.

  “No. It’s just that I...we didn’t have time.”

  “Right. The tickets to Portland.” The way he drew out the city’s name made it sound like a fictitious place, a destination she’d fabricated. “Who do you know there?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she murmured through rigid lips. The wind picked up and fluttered strands of hair in her face. She shoved them behind her ears.

  “It is, if it involves a relation of mine.”

  “Javi’s your nephew,” she gasped. So now he didn’t believe Javi was Jesse’s son? Fury corroded her tongue. She hated feeling backed into a corner. Trapped like she had been during her childhood.

  “I only have your word for it.” His sober voice descended on her, as heavy as a gavel.

  “And his birth certificate.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “My wallet.”

  “The one that’s missing...” He cocked his head, studying her.

  “I’m leaving.”

  He held out a hand. “You misunderstand me.” Something about the plea in his voice halted her feet. She’d heard it before, in her own head, that same desire for someone to understand her. “I don’t know you, where you come from or who your people are. Since Jesse’s murder, I don’t trust strangers.”

  Her eyes met his, and she gnawed on her lower lip, thinking fast. She wasn’t about to talk about who her people were. Bringing up her father was another trigger, and she wouldn’t compound this tense moment by invoking his name. “I’m just passing through,” she said, knowing it sounded weak. But it was the best she could do.

  He nodded slowly, his dark eyes shiny and a touch sad. The moon sank beneath a scuttle of clouds and the world seemed to collapse in on itself. A black hole.

  “I’d like your promise to be on the Portland bus tomorrow. If you delay, Ma will get attached. She looks strong, but she’s fragile, especially this time of year.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone tomorrow. I’m definitely not staying for the holidays.”

  Though how she wished, just once, that she could give Javi a real Christmas.

  “Her heart’s been broken too many times by...”

  “Jesse,” she murmured.

  When James averted his face, the firm cut of his jaw drew her eye. A day’s worth of dark stubble shaded it, giving him a dangerous edge, yet she also sensed a profound loneliness in him that echoed her own. There was nothing worse than feeling alone in crowds of people. He’d held himself back during the boisterous family dinner, his vigilant eyes rarely straying from his mother. He wanted to protect her, and Sofia admired his determination, especially since she was equally resolute in shielding her son.

  Wind chimes jangled from a corner of the porch, their silvery notes shivering on the breeze. “Jesse caused Ma a lot of pain. Still does.”

  “You love your mother a lot.”

  “She’s the greatest person I know.”

  Sofia ached at his simple, heartfelt declaration. All her life she’d wished for a mother to love and knew she’d have been just as protective and loyal as James. “Jesse’s addiction must have been hard on her.”

  He turned and his dark eyes glimmered in the gloom. “Were you an addict, too?”

  “Jesse and I got clean together.”

  And when he relapsed, you kicked him out. You never gave him the support you should have.

  “How long have you been sober?”

  “Six years.” Did he think her a closet junkie bent on taking advantage of his family?

  Her throat tightened at his possible bad opinion, though why it mattered, she hadn’t a clue. Nearly everyone she�
�d ever met assumed the worst, so why would James be different?

  Maybe the reason stemmed from her long-held wish for Javi to be a part of Cade Ranch, a world she never got to experience: one full of strong values and family, where he’d be safe and secure—even if she slipped again. Every night, she told him Rocky Mountain cowboys’ bedtime stories, describing legendary men to make him proud of his dad.

  And now James’s suspicious manner made her want to flee. He reminded her of who she was, not who she wanted to become.

  “No relapses?” he pressed.

  “Nope.” She forced a pained smile and spoke through her clenched teeth. “See. Not rotting. I’m not a meth head.”

  “What about your arms?”

  She extended one, and he slid her sleeve up over her elbow to peer at her track lines, scars that disfigured her, showed the world the ugliness that lurked within.

  A shivery tremble began in her lower stomach as his calloused fingers grazed her marks. His gaze lifted and locked with hers. Instead of the disgust she expected, his face fell. A crazy urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him up seized her.

  “Seen enough?” Her voice broke.

  When he didn’t answer, she shoved up the other sleeve and extended the scarred underside of her elbow.

  “Enough.” He lifted his hands, then dropped them, backing away, looking slightly stunned.

  “They’re not fresh,” she insisted, shaking inside.

  His chest rose and fell with the force of his sigh. “But you were with Jesse when he relapsed.”

  “Yes,” she answered fast, relieved to get past this awkward moment of physical awareness.

  “Were you friends with his dealer?”

  A bitter laugh escaped her as she pictured her neighborhood’s thugs. “Hardly.”

  “But you knew them.” He looked her dead in the eye, and she nodded, unable to hold in the truth at the anguish she glimpsed in their depths.

  “Did you know Jesse’s murderers?”

  “Of course not. I was raising a child.” And trying, trying, trying to move on with her life. Guilt flashed inside over how she’d had to push Jesse away to do that. If she’d stuck by him, been stronger for him, would he be alive today?