by Snow, Nicole
Giving him another scratch, happiness returns. “You have to be good, too. I won’t have time to be chasing you down. So, no opening gates like I know you love.” He’s an absolute Houdini when it comes to latches of all kinds, even knobs. “Deal?”
He shakes his head once and I’m staring in disbelief, but then it moves up and down.
Laughing, I jump down off the fence, and nearly fall because of the heels I’m wearing. My bad. West Coast styles have no place on a North Dakota ranch.
“I have to go unpack and change. Give me some time.”
He nickers, and I laugh again.
A sense of soft contentment fills me even before I reach the Jeep. I turn, waving at Edison. “Meet you at the barn, boy!”
I jump in and shift into drive. Edison takes off across the pasture.
He’ll be there. No doubt whatsoever.
We used to do this all the time. It was our version of hide and seek. It taught me how wise, gentle, and incredibly smart a beast like Edison could be.
I watch until he disappears behind the trees lining the ditch. They’re strategically planted as a wind row to keep the snow off the driveway. Winter is coming has a far more ominous meaning in the North Dakota heartland than it does for any crazy TV show.
I’m not kidding.
There were times I’d call Gramps every other day when I heard about blizzards hitting the area, just to make sure he was okay. He’d laugh them off as 'rooster spinners' – referring to the big metal weather vane on the barn – but I know there were times the drifts were scary high on the roads, sealing all access in or out of the ranch.
The gravel road prevents me from driving as fast as I’d like to the house. I have to remind myself that Gramps isn’t there, waiting for me to arrive, and that’s sad, but it doesn’t completely take away the eagerness swirling inside me.
This is it. Home sweet home. More than any other place I’ve ever known.
I’d rather be here a hundred times more than my parents’ most outrageous private island penthouse.
A smile tugs on my lips as I pull up. I shut off the engine and take a good, long look around.
It’s just like I remember: the house, the barn, the machine shed and other outbuildings tucked together in neat formation. Sure, they’re old – rustic, even – but no worse for wear.
In fact, the entire lot of them sport fairly new paint jobs. The wind and sun haven’t faded the bright apple reds and star spangled blues and starry whites.
Gramps was a huge sucker for pure Americana, but his throwback style hits me with its warmth, its boldness, its welcome home punch to the feelies.
The massive three-story house, along with its wide wrap-around porch has a shiny new coat of paint on it, too. White with red trim. Just like I remember.
I pull the keys out of the ignition, open the door and step out, taking another good look around. A wave of sadness washes over me. I wish I hadn’t waited so long to return.
Collecting only what I’ll need for the night, I leave the rest of my bags in the Jeep and walk toward the house. Until a nicker in the distance has me turning.
How had I forgotten? I walk over to the corral and pat his neck. “All right, you win. Just like always.”
He smacks his hoof at the ground, spraying dirt.
“And now I really have to get out of these stupid heels before they’re ruined.” I give him one more pat and then walk to the house.
The front door doesn’t open like I expect. It’s locked, which surprises me.
That’s not Gramps’ style. But then again, someone had to come by to secure the place after he passed, so...is it really so weird?
That’s probably why Mr. Sheridan asked if I had a key. As Grandpa’s lawyer, maybe Sheridan himself came by and locked the front door.
Maybe not, though, considering his back.
Probably the helper, I decide.
Gramps said he stayed in the little cottage, usually, perched several acres away. It hadn’t been much more than a hunting shack from what I remember, but maybe Gramps had it fixed up too.
Both rocking chairs near the door sway back and forth from the wind like Gramps himself welcoming me home.
That thought makes me smile. Some people might find it creepy, but for me, it’s comforting.
I unlock the door and step inside, closing my eyes. I know he’s not here, but I swear I feel him.
My first instinct is to open the door on the right, into his study, but I decide to wait. I don’t need to see the room empty.
The big leather chair behind the massive oak desk, vacant, will make his absence too real. Right now, I’d like to pretend, if only for a few minutes, that he’s in there.
Go ahead.
Call it ridiculous.
I’ve had enough school to know the psychology, how people like to tell themselves lies or outright hallucinate after they’ve lost someone they love. I’m aware how I’m acting, maybe a little crazy, but I’m so past caring because it helps.
It helps me take on this inheritance, this burden I never imagined in a bazillion years.
Sighing, I walk through the foyer and glance up the wide staircase. My room will look exactly as I left it. I take a quick look at the front room, and then glance toward the kitchen.
Wow.
No, seriously. Wowza.
There’s been some updates, and...it’s enough to make my jaw drop.
New countertops and sparkly appliances. A kitchen totally changed from lovingly weathered wood to sleek marble and stainless steel and fancy old world tile.
“Dang,” I whisper. Even Mom would be impressed.
It looks fantastic. The updates don’t interfere with its seasoned charm either; the best of both worlds brought together by Gramps’ brilliant craftsmanship, I’m sure.
Weirdly, I can’t imagine him using it to cook much. He was a steak and potatoes kinda guy, even if he whipped up some amazing stuff whenever anyone would visit. So I wonder why he’d bother going through all this trouble just to –
Thunk!
A noise echoes through the house.
It stops me dead in my tracks. My spine tucks in, and I hold my breath, listening, eyes tracing toward the ceiling. But it isn’t up there, exactly.
Relief oozes out of me as I see the curtains fluttering and notice the furnace vent below them. It’s a warm day, but still chilly enough for the sensors, so the furnace switched on.
Lucky me. No need to turn up the thermostat in Gramps’ study.
I nod, deciding I should finish exploring the house so the next perfectly normal noise doesn’t send me leaping out of my skin.
I might as well carry my bags up before investigating the kitchen more. An inventory of the fridge and cupboards could take some time, and I’ll need a little while to really get a handle on where things are in the new configuration.
At the top of the stairs, I turn left. That’s where my room is, down the hall, along with two other bedrooms and a bathroom. The exact same number of rooms is mirrored on the other side if I’d turned right.
I never get the chance.
Another noise, this time an unmistakable thud! shoots a harsher chill up my neck.
I stop. Listen. Ears so hot they burn.
Jesus, I’m not alone in here.
There’s someone else in the house.
I’m about to step forward – or is it back? I should put distance between me and the intruder, maybe head to one of the three fireplaces for a blunt, heavy object before I –
Nope. Too late.
The bathroom door flies open, and my heart leaps into my throat.
Then a man, a beast as tall as Edison steps into the hallway, all furious muscle and ink. Labyrinths of tattoos criss-cross his bare chest, his cannon-barrel arms. Naked, except for a white towel covering his hips.
I’m nothing but instinct when I do what any sane person would.
Scream.
2
Sign Here (Drake)
What the fuck?
An ear-piercing scream rips through my temples like I’m flush up against a tornado siren. Dammit, Jonah, you never said your granddaughter has a set of lungs that could break every window in this house!
Pressing a finger to the side of my head, I barely remember to hold the towel around my waist with my other hand. Last thing I need is to trade her an eyeful for an earful.
The savage pain is a gift from my military days. An improvised explosive blast damaged some acoustic nerves, leaving me unable to hear some pitches, while others give me an instant fucking headache.
“Get out, get out, get out, you creep!” At least she’s yelling now.
Progress.
“Calm down, lady! It’s just me, Drake Larkin. Didn’t you get the memo?”
Her reaction tells me it’s a big fat 'no.'
She stumbles backward, up against the wall. “I don’t know any Drake Larkin! This is my grandfather’s house and...get out!” Her eyes go wide as she hurls the last syllable like a spear.
Fuck.
Here comes more pain. Flinching at the high pitch her voice can reach, I growl right back, “For Christ’s sake, stop screaming. I know it’s Jonah’s place. Newsflash: I worked for him!”
I swear she’s about to put her butt through the wall itself. But at least she pipes down, batting her confused eyes at me. “Worked for him? What?”
Thankful she’s lowered the pitch, I ease the hand off my temple. Luckily, the pain dissipates as fast as it hits.
Okay.
Jonah told her about me, right? He sure as hell told me enough about her. But if that’s true, then my presence here shouldn’t be such a shock she wants to shriek me six feet under.
“Here at the ranch,” I say, without trying to sound nasty with how obvious it is. “And wherever else he needed me. I’ve been on his payroll for years.”
“You?” she barely whispers. “Wait. You’re telling me...you’re his companion? The helper? His old Army buddy?”
It’s hard not to snort.
I’ve never been called anyone’s 'companion.' Yeah, I was in the Army, and so was Jonah, but it sure as hell wasn’t at the same time. The Korean War was a long damn time before I did my duty for Uncle Sam in both recent brushfires, Afghanistan and Iraq.
“What are you doing here at the house?” she asks as her eyes dart up and down my torso. “Gramps always said you lived in the cottage.”
My jaw tightens. I look her over slowly, study her huge eyes. Doesn’t look like she’s in any condition to hear the whole truth, so we’ll start easy.
“I just took a shower here to clean up. Pretty much had to after chasing Edison damn near to Big Fish Lake.” That horse is a Mustang in a steed’s body, I swear.
There’s not a latch he can’t master. If I hadn’t been inventorying my gear on the back porch, I wouldn’t have even seen him on top of the ridge behind the house.
Next to his granddaughter, Edison was the one thing in this world Jonah Reed loved above all else. I’d promised to keep an eye on them both, just like I had him. Naturally, I had to go chase the horse down like a crazy man, even though I knew she’d be showing up sometime today.
“Give me a minute, and I’ll tell you more. Let me get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
I don’t wait for a response. I head into the bedroom and shut the door behind me.
Shitfire.
I expected trouble, but this?
Jonah warned me about his daughter-in-law, Molly, and his son, Gary. Said they’d pitch a fit over the will. I expect they’ll be along shortly, too, pouring gas on a raging fire. But he didn’t tell me to protect my eardrums from Little Miss McScreamy.
If she’d howled half an octave higher, I wouldn’t have even noticed how sweet she looked.
Eyes like an overgrown maze you could lose yourself in for days.
Soft, windy brunette with just enough wave to be too damn fistable.
Hips that curve straight off this earth to heaven. A lush, thick ass that could do terrible, terrible things to a man who’s been cooped up and brooding as long as me.
But it can’t. I swore I’d do Jonah right, and we’re getting off to a bad start when I’m standing here thinking x-rated scenes about his own flesh and blood while my ears are still ringing.
Worse, he’s trusting me to execute this shitshow of a plan he cooked up to save our skins.
Fuck me blind.
I touch the side of my head. There’s no pain now, but I sense a permanent headache coming on.
Actually, it’s already here. Waiting downstairs.
How I let myself get roped into this insanity still has me baffled. Sure, Jonah was a sly old fox. So sly, he not only convinced me, but got his starch stiff lawyer man to go along with it, too.
A grin overrides my ability to hold it back as I yank open a dresser drawer.
Jonah Reed was one hell of a man. His presence hasn’t diminished a bit since the day he shoved off his mortal coil.
I owe him a lot. I wouldn’t be standing here today if not for him.
Hell, I wouldn’t be standing period. We met up when I was at my lowest, clueless where to go or what to do. I’d been lost in every damn mental, emotional, and metaphysical way a human being can be lost-lost.
But old Jonah found me with a flat tire on a road to nowhere in the middle of a blizzard.
That road led to this ranch. I’d blown a tire right next to his milk can mailbox, and if it wasn’t for his driveway being right there, I’d have wound up in the ditch.
Buried in the endless, impassable snow that kept falling. The drifts spilling off the hills out here will consume miles of highway for days. I’d managed to limp the truck a short distance up his driveway before the snow wrapped around my tires, rendering me dead in the water.
I was ready for the worst, a frozen death in the middle of Jack Frost’s finest.
Jonah Reed wasn’t having it.
He came barreling down the road, cutting right through the blizzard. Pedal to the metal and balls to the walls.
I smile at the memory, shoving a t-shirt over my head, then work my hair with a comb in the mirror.
He’d fishtailed around the corner, and without letting off the gas, dropped the plow on the front of his old red and white GMC. That old man plowed through the three-foot-tall snowdrifts like Zeus moving mountains, shifting gears like he had a third arm as the snow flew over his windshield.
His grin was as wide as the brim on his red and black plaid hat. Maybe a little maniacal, if we’re being honest. His stark white false teeth rivaled the snow when he stopped next to my truck and rolled down his window.
And how could I ever forget those first simple, fiery words?
“Get in here, boy. Buckle up. Gonna be a bumpy night.”
Men like him are few and far between.
Blasting through those drifts the entire two and a half miles to his house was more than bumpy. It’d been downright treacherous.
To this day, I’m not even sure if he could see through the blinding snow or not. I hadn’t been able to, but he’d kept the GMC between the ditches, and we made it to the house, no worse for wear.
Two days later, it was still snowing, but no longer a blizzard. We used a tractor to pull my truck to the house. That’s how I arrived at the Reed Ranch with a second lease on life, and I haven’t left since.
Can’t now either. Promised Jonah I wouldn’t.
Yeah, I’ll see this insane will through to the end. It’s the least I can do for a man who saved my life when I’d almost made peace with dying alone.
And if payback weren’t a bitch and a half, it wouldn’t be Jonah’s style.
I’d half expected his granddaughter to arrive yesterday, but she’d gone straight to the funeral home. Sheridan called and told me as much.
And when she didn’t arrive last night, I assumed she’d be here after hearing the dirty details at his office. Sheridan said he’d call as soon as it was over, g
ive me the heads-up, and he probably had.
My cell phone is still on the back porch with all my gear. Everything except for one Smith and Wesson .500. Jonah loved shooting that gun, and I know exactly where it’s at.
The range.
I said my goodbyes to Jonah in person. Didn’t need to go to the funeral home.
Instead, I went to the range behind the shack on the back eighty. Jonah loved shooting my Smith and Wesson. Said it reminded him of the big guns of the Old West, when one shot was all a man ever needed.
So this morning, while the family gathered around him, I set that gun on the bench he always liked and fired several rounds, just like we used to.
My very own personal salute to a man who left his mark on this world, and me.
Too bad I forgot the gun was there when I packed up and came back to the house.
Then old Edison decided to make a break for it. Again.
Can’t blame him, totally.
The horse knows things aren’t right. He knows Jonah isn’t here anymore.
I swear, if I hadn’t finally caught up with him near the lake, he’d have walked all the way to town. Edison probably would’ve shown up at the funeral or the cemetery.
Maybe I should’ve let him. Edison was more of a family to Jonah than these strangers blowing into town now, picking over his financial bones.
Of course, Jonah wouldn’t have agreed. Not when it came to his granddaughter.
He loved her like no other, and always swore up and down he’d make damn sure nobody ever cheated her out of what he wanted to leave behind. Just like he made sure nothing would ever put an end to the Reed Ranch or North Earhart Oil.
I sit down, pull on a pair of socks, and slip on my boots, then standing up, I tuck the shirt into my jeans and head for the door. Might as well get this shenanigan started.
Of the three, I believe the granddaughter will be the easiest to deal with. She talked to Jonah regularly, which is far more than I can say for her folks. Shit, I can count on one hand the number of times his son ever called in the four years I’ve been here, and have no reason to believe it was any more often before I arrived.
The granddaughter was in college when I first showed up. Jonah thought she’d move here once she graduated. She disappointed him by not, but he never admitted it. Not even to me.