Return to the Black Hills

by Debra Salonen

“Was Mama in pain when she passed?”

  Remy didn’t answer right away. When she did, her voice sounded serious, truthful. “No. She was on morphine. All of her organs started shutting down—not only her kidneys. The end came pretty fast.”

  Fast was good, Jessie imagined, even though a part of her wished Mama could have hung on a bit longer.

  “Are you still beating yourself up for not being there?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Remy made a scoffing sound. “Then why’d you bring it up?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Yes, she did. Guilt. Jessie had done everything that was asked of her when Mama’s sickness turned systemic—simply not when it was asked of her. The Bullies accused Jessie of dragging her feet as a way of payback.

  “She did the best she could when you were in the hospital, Jessie,” Bossy, the oldest of the Bullies had shrieked at her—the telephone connection with Japan as clear as if they’d been standing in the same room. “Get over it. Mama needs you now.”

  What Mama needed was a kidney. And if Jessie had been a donor match, the operation would have effectively killed her career—the one thing that defined her, gave her life purpose and proved to the world she was not a scarred victim who deserved pity, not love. Jessie had agonized over the dilemma from halfway around the world, and as much as she hated to admit it, there had been a part of her that remembered feeling abandoned by the woman she was now expected to save. That sense of righteousness pointed out Jessie’s commitments—her moral obligation to her team and her financial obligation to Dar and Girlz on Fire—as reason enough to keep from hopping the first plane back to Louisiana.

  “Maybe if I’d tried harder…” What? She didn’t know. Her mother would still be dead.

  Remy slowed the car to pass over a metal cattle guard. Yota rocked like a small boat on a rough sea. A moment later, they crested a slight rise, which afforded a vista of a cluster of buildings and trees a mile or so ahead.

  “You know, Jess, I could have mailed Mama’s letter and your copy of the will, but I could tell lately that you’ve been a little down. I was afraid you might be stewing about what happened at the funeral.”

  “I’m used to being the family scapegoat. Nothing new there.”

  Remy didn’t argue the point. They’d talked about their family dynamics many times. The fire that destroyed their childhood home, the costs—from Jessie’s hospital stay to the many subsequent operations, the terrible emotional toll for everyone—especially their mother. All assumed to be Jessie’s fault, since everyone believed she’d lit the candle that ignited the curtains that became a fuse.

  “I know, but remember what Mama always said about you? ‘Jessie’s shoulders are broad. She can handle anything.’”

  Jessie sat up a little straighter. Mama had said that. Many times. About many situations. A surge of emotion swelled upward, nearly choking her. No tears, though. Jessie never cried. “The heat from the fire sealed my tear ducts,” she told people.

  “So, this is the place, huh?” Jessie asked, leaning forward to look around. “Not bad.”

  “Not bad? How ’bout freaking amazing?” Remy came to a stop in front of a four-stall garage. The roofline extended across a breezeway to join up with a postcard-perfect two-story log house the color of burnished gold. A forest-green metal roof and matching shutters completed the Cartwright-ranch look. Set back slightly and perpendicular to the big house was a far more modest, one-story home that was saved from looking like a tract home by its wide, wraparound veranda.

  “But where are the barns?” she asked, swiveling in the seat. “Shouldn’t a ranch have a bunch of barns and outbuildings and corrals and stuff?”

  Jessie rolled up her window and opened her door, carefully maneuvering her new walking sticks so she could get out of the car without help. A hospital orderly with a wheelchair had insisted on helping her into Yota, but she was determined to figure this out on her own. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll get a guided tour sooner or later.”

  “You made it,” a familiar voice called. Cade and his daughter exited the house through the door closest to the garage. “Shiloh and I made bison chili. My dad’s recipe. He won a local chili cook-off a few years ago and has been coasting on the glory ever since, but it’s good. We hoped you’d get here in time for supper.”

  Jessie’s stomach had been growling for miles. “Bison, huh? I don’t think I’ve ever tried that.”

  Once she was standing and the car door was closed, she put her crutches under her arms and hobbled toward him. “Lead the way, I’m starved.”

  He pointed to a sidewalk linking the two houses. “Shiloh and I were discussing this. We think it will be easier for you to get up and down the front porch steps. They’re wider and there’s a handrail.”

  Jessie looked at the door he’d used.

  “This goes through the laundry room. It’s closer, but there are more things to trip over, including,” he said meaningfully, his gaze going to his daughter, “Shiloh’s pet raccoon.”

  “You have a raccoon?” Jessie exclaimed. “I had one when I was a kid. Her name was Bandit.” She looked at Remy and grinned. “Not very original, but we were…what? Ten?”

  Remy shook her head. “No. More like six or seven. Bandit was before the fire.” She looked at Shiloh. “Sometimes wild things don’t stick around the way you hope they will.”

  Shiloh’s smile disappeared. She looked at her dad, who rubbed his hands together to hurry things along. “Can I carry anything for you or do you want to eat first and bring in your stuff later?”

  “Food first,” Jessie said. “Definitely.”

  Shiloh and Remy led the way, with Jessie moving slowly and carefully—the damn pain meds were making her dizzy—bringing up the rear.

  Jessie found her rhythm using the crutches pretty quickly. The tricky part came from trying to walk and look around at the same time. And there was plenty to see.

  “You have a pool,” she said, motioning toward an inground pool that seemed to take up at least half of the lawn between the two houses.

  “Yeah. My dad put it in last fall. Right before winter. Dumb time to put in a pool, if you ask me, but I guess he had his reasons. It is solar heated, though, so that’s cool. Do you swim?”

  She loved the water. “Water aerobics would be good low-impact exercises for my ankle. You wouldn’t mind if Remy and I use it?”

  “No. Feel free. I’ll show you how to operate the cover, and maybe you can help me figure out the filter system. So far, nobody’s used it—still too cold. But the days are starting to warm up. Shiloh’s been asking to get in, haven’t you, Shiloh?”

  The girl nodded with enthusiasm. “But I have to get a new swimsuit. I want a two-piece, but Dad gets all weird whenever I show him any suits online.”

  Cade blushed slightly. A manly blush, Jessie decided. If there was such a thing. “Two-piece suits are one thing. Triangles with strings are something else.”

  “Hey, look,” Remy exclaimed, stemming off a full-blown fashion debate. “Are those buffalo?”

  She and Shiloh were standing on the porch that extended the entire length of the house. The building was angled in a way that afforded a view of distant fields. The closest pasture was dotted with large, woolly beasts.

  “Wow,” Jessie said, slightly breathless from climbing the steps. For someone in as good a shape as she was, the four, wide redwood stairs shouldn’t have her puffing. “Those are buffalo. The same ones we’re going to eat tonight?”

  Cade shook his head. “No. That’s Kat’s herd. She knows each animal by name, I think. Dad and his friend trade butchered beef for butchered bison.”

  The interior of the house was impressive, with a wall of windows that offered an unobstructed view of the rolling hills and—yes—buffalo. The decor was understated and rustic in a manly way—the occasional stuffed deer head shared wall space with a watercolor
landscape. “Nice,” she said, meaning it.

  “A huge improvement over that log cabin we stayed at with Mama. Remember that dump in the Bayou? It belonged to her banker boyfriend.”

  “A major slimeball,” Jessie said. “He told us there were gators everywhere and we couldn’t leave the house, but there was nothing for a fifteen-year-old kid to do.” She looked at Cade. “Remy read a book and listened to her Walkman. I flagged down a passing airboat and partied with a bunch of river rats all weekend. I don’t think Mama even knew I was gone.”

  “She knew,” Remy said.

  “The kitchen’s this way,” Cade said, motioning toward the left.

  “When I was a kid, I thought alligators were giant snakes with teeth.”

  Jessie looked at the Shiloh. She was still wearing jeans and a T-shirt but she’d added a black apron with the words Heat Happens spelled out in chili peppers. “That’s funny. I like your apron.”

  “I made biscuits. From a can,” she added. A second later her eyes went wide and she took off running. “I forgot to set the timer. Damn. Damn. Darn. I mean… Darn.” She dropped out of sight behind a high-end, eight-burner stove.

  “Does your dad like to cook?” Jessie asked, pressing ahead, keeping one eye out for tripping hazards.

  Cade walked around her, heading toward the counter, where four bowls were sitting on bright, Mexicali-colored woven placemats. “Yeah. Kat says he won a popular chili cook-off a few years back. This is his recipe. He was going to teach Shiloh how to make it, but didn’t get around to it before he left.”

  Jessie picked an outside stool so she could prop her leg on the empty stool beside her. She leaned her crutches against the thick granite countertop and unfolded her napkin in her lap. “Where did you say he went?”

  “West.”

  Cade took the vibrant yellow bowl from her spot to fill it from a giant caldron on the opposite counter. With his back to her, she studied him with an athlete’s eye. He’d changed shirts, she noticed. Like the white one, this short-sleeve blue-and-gold check was tucked into the belted waistband of his denim jeans. Name brand, but the kind favored by working-class joes, NASCAR drivers and, of course, cowboys.

  She heard a soft noncough and glanced sideways to the neighboring stool. Remy had caught her studying Cade.

  Jessie grabbed her spoon and nudged the bowl a little closer. The aroma made her mouth start to water. “Yum,” she said, savoring her first bite. “Nice heat. Well done, Papa Garrity, wherever you are.”

  Cade finished filling the other bowls then pulled a stool to a spot directly across from her. Remy and Shiloh anchored the side to her right. Only three sides of the square island were meant for stools, she realized. Cade could have squeezed in with his daughter and Remy, but he chose to sit where he could see her. Did that mean something? she wondered.

  “So, Jessie, my cousins and I went to your website today and watched all your videos. Man, you have been all over the world, haven’t you?” Shiloh said.

  Jessie reached for the basket of slightly toasty biscuits. “I’ve been lucky,” she said, slathering on a big dollop of butter. Normally, she could eat as many calories a day as she wanted and never worry about gaining a pound because she burned off every bite. She looked at the biscuit for a few seconds before dunking it in the glistening red stew.

  “What’s your favorite country?”

  She finished chewing before answering. “I don’t know. Japan was interesting. High-tech and fast-paced. I would have liked to visit the countryside, but I wasn’t there long enough.”

  “You travel a lot?” Cade asked.

  She’d taken too big a spoonful and couldn’t answer right away, so Remy stepped in. “She’s always on the go. We never know where to find her. One day you call her cell phone, thinking she’s in her apartment in L.A., and she answers half-asleep because it’s 2:00 a.m. in Beijing.”

  Jessie frowned. “It’s not quite that bad.”

  Remy snorted. “Remember when I called you in freakin’ Iceland? Iceland,” she repeated, looking meaningfully at Shiloh. “She was filming a vodka commercial.”

  “Men’s deodorant, not vodka.” She doubted anyone in the States had seen it. “I fell backward out of a window into the arms of some Nordic god. Literally. The guy had lightning bolts strapped to his chest. If I fell wrong, I could have been impaled.”

  “What’s impaled mean?”

  Remy pretended to stab herself in the chest.

  Cade did not look amused.

  “Can you teach me how to do those backflips and midair twists?” Shiloh asked. “Those look so cool. And, man, would the kids at school freak if I learned how to run up the side of a building. Whoa.”

  Jessie looked at Cade. She wasn’t surprised to find him scowling. He’d rented his father’s house to her so she could watch out for his daughter’s health and safety, not teach her how to do stunts.

  She pushed her bowl away. “This was really great, Cade. Thank you so much. Shiloh, your biscuits were delish. Extra crunchy—exactly the way I make them. But—” she drew the word out as she reached for her crutches “—I was supposed to start hot-and-cold therapy on my ankle as soon as I got settled. Would anyone mind if I checked out my new digs?”

  “Of course not,” Cade answered. “I’ll show you the way. Shiloh, you’re in charge of cleanup. Remember?”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll help,” Remy said. “Unless you need my help, Jess.”

  “No. No, problem. You put the prescription in my duffel, right?”

  “Yep. I left both our bags sitting beside Yota.”

  Cade detoured toward the side door. “I’ll collect them and meet you at Buck’s.” He stopped suddenly. “Oh, that reminds me. Grandpa called today, Shiloh. He said to tell you he misses you, but he’s doing well and has developed a fondness for fried tofu.”

  Jessie snickered softly to herself as she headed across the simply landscaped yard. She breathed deeply, taking in the smells of moist grass and some unfamiliar scents. She felt strangely at peace. She had no idea how that was possible. Given the fact her life was in chaos and somebody screwed with her ropes today.

  The meds, she thought.

  “Hey, Cade,” she called. “Any chance you have the number for that cop…I mean…deputy from today? You know what they say about squeaky wheels.”

  “They’re the first to fall off the car?” He grinned, obviously amused by his own joke.

  He lugged the two suitcases to the door. “Speaking of car wrecks, the kids found the video of your famous rollover on YouTube today.”

  Her chili made a wrong turn in her stomach. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Hmm.”

  A sound that could mean just about anything.

  He reached past her to set the bags inside the door. His shoulder brushed against her breast. An innocent accident that set off a not-so-innocent response in her body. Normally, if she felt her nipples pucker when they weren’t supposed to, she’d cross her arms. Impossible to do when they were straddling two bulky padded crutches.

  He stepped back, his gaze dropping like radar to her chest. A second later, his chin popped up. His expression didn’t change, but something between them did. She would have sworn to the fact. Not that you could tell that by his friendly, perfectly innocent “Sleep well.”

  She stepped into the room and closed the door firmly.

  Well? Probably more like hell.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CADE WALKED SLOWLY TO THE house. He wasn’t sure what just happened. Wrong. That much he knew. He’d been married, for God’s sake. He’d dated a dozen or so women before he and Faith got together. He’d felt that thing that happened between a certain man and a certain woman more than once. A spark. A look. A hint that maybe the other person felt a tiny bit of possibility, too.

  But not with Jessie Bouchard, damn it. He was her landlord. Her short-term, temporary landlord. When he went looking for a new someone, he sure as hell intended to pick one
who planned to stick around—the Hills and life.

  He shook his head. That wasn’t fair. He knew Jessie wasn’t Faith. Faith’s death had been an accident. It couldn’t be called a freak accident because saddles slipped more often than people wanted to admit or talk about. The horse breathes in, expanding its belly, the person tightening the cinch forgets to knee the horse or give the cinch an extra tug… Who knows what happened that night? The end result was still the same.

  It was wrong of him to associate Jessie’s job with Faith’s. He didn’t know anything about her career—other than the fact she’d wound up falling into his arms this morning. And he knew she was damn lucky not to have been hurt worse.

  What more did he need to know about her chosen profession? Nothing. She was not the sort of woman he was looking for. Not that he was actively looking, of course. His life was still in flux at the moment. His relationship with Shiloh was changing. He’d returned home to try to rebuild some kind of relationship with his father…who wasn’t here.

  He pushed the thought away. The point was he had no intentions of getting involved with another dedicated athlete type. He wouldn’t. He refused.

  Then why was he pacing on the porch instead of going inside and having a normal—boring?—night with his daughter?

  He slammed the heel of his hand against the railing of the deck. No. Where the hell had that thought come from?

  “Oh, hi, Cade. Great place you have. Shiloh just showed me around.”

  “Thanks. It’s—” He stopped himself from saying my dad’s. It wasn’t. Not anymore. “Shiloh and I still have a way to go before it feels like home.”

  Remy cocked her head. “Wasn’t this always your home? I must have misunderstood.”

  “No. You didn’t. This is where I grew up, but I haven’t spent much time around here for a lot of years. Buck remarried after my mom passed, and Helen, my stepmother, did a bunch of remodeling. Added the second floor, actually,” he said, looking up. “And Buck’s done a lot to the place over the years. Including the new granny house.” The word always made him smirk. Buck hadn’t been much of a father; Cade didn’t have high hopes that he’d make a better grandfather.