“Just imparting some brotherly advice, that’s all,” Blue said, his usual easy manner returning, although it didn’t quite reassure her.
“On what topic?” she asked. “Trying to scare him off?”
Blue frowned. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Janie, but Tim is damaged goods. You be careful around him, you hear?”
Now Janie did put her hands on her hips. “Just what does that mean, ‘damaged goods’? I don’t believe he’s dangerous or you wouldn’t have brought him out here.”
Blue shook his head. “Just.... I know you, Janie. You take in strays, you think you can fix every problem, you put everyone else ahead of yourself. Do us all a favor and give Tim his space, okay?”
Rolling her eyes, Janie relented in the face of her brother’s concern. “You know, I can take care of myself, Blue.”
“I know you can, Janie. I truly do. It’s just that Tim isn’t the usual kind of hand we get out here. He’s seen some trouble....” Blue’s voice trailed off as he looked at her, seeming to consider how much to tell her.
“It’s all right, Blue. I reckon I won’t be seeing too much of him anyway. I mean, how often do I get a chance to get out here?” Blue smiled back at her, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, brother. I had better get back to the clinic and see if there are any ‘strays’ that need taking care of in town.” She winked at him to show him she was okay with his assessment, then headed over to the company truck.
On her way out, she saw Tim bringing the wheelbarrow back to the barn, and she waved. “It was nice to meet you, Tim Reardon,” she called out, chuckling as he nearly dropped the wheelbarrow in an attempt to wave back.
He settled for calling back to her. “You, too.”
Chapter Five
By the time he stepped over the bench to sit down at the trestle table for supper, Tim was beat.
After Janie left, Blue had taken him down to the river where they worked to lay out irrigation pipe between a pump in the river and a new distribution base to the east of the house. Blue had explained that the old pipe that fed the garden had given out over the winter, freezing and breaking in several places.
As they worked, Tim had caught himself trying to out-work Blue until he realized two things. One, there wasn’t a competitive bone in Blue’s body, and two, competition didn’t help their task. If he tried to lift higher or walk faster or dig deeper than Blue, it meant the pipe was more likely to fall or lay crooked in the ground, not joining properly with the next length they brought up.
Blue worked hard and steady and didn’t talk much, except to explain the next step to Tim. By the end of the day, they were working in near silence. After Blue’s comment at the barn, Tim half-expected more lectures about doing the right thing, pulling his weight, flying straight...whatever. But the topic didn’t come up again.
When they finished for the day, Blue showed him where he could shower and wash for supper. He saw other ranch workers, but no one went out of their way to speak to him, so Tim stripped out of his filthy clothes and stepped into the showers—a bank of stalls in a semi-enclosed room off the main bunkhouse. It was open to the springtime breezes at their feet and at head level, making him wonder if they closed it off in the winter.
The water for the shower was lukewarm, but that made it refreshing after working in the heat all day. The scars on his upper arm and the top of his left shoulder earned him a few stares from a couple hands as he wrapped a towel around his waist, gathered his dirty clothes, and headed for the bunk where he had brought his bags upon his arrival. Since the men didn’t say anything, he chose to ignore their looks. He wasn’t prepared to volunteer any information about where he had collected those scars.
At supper, dressed in fresh clothes and his skin pink from the unaccustomed sunshine, he looked around and saw several questioning faces, and not one of them was familiar. There was no sign of Blue, and he realized he was on his own.
He watched as his new co-workers passed around platters of dinner rolls, barbequed steaks, bowls of vegetables, and Spanish rice. Tim didn’t know when he had last seen such a large quantity of quality food in front of him. Maybe never. When the first platter was offered to him, he accepted it, lifting a roll to put on his plate.
An older man sitting at the head of the table paused in the act of forking a chunk of steak. “What’s your name, son?”
Tim looked up to confirm the man was talking to him. His black hair, slicked back on top and short on the sides, showed gray at the temples and in his full sideburns. The man’s body was thick with age, but not the least bit frail.
“Tim Reardon,” he answered, returning the same tone of non-judgmental courtesy.
Another voice chimed in, this one not quite so courteous. “So, greenhorn, where you from?”
“Denver,” he replied, accepting another platter and spearing himself a steak, purposely taking the smallest one available before passing it along.
“Reardon? Like Deputy Mitzi before she married Blue, right?” a third man asked. This one was a young man, maybe twenty years old and earnest. “You her brother?”
“Yes,” Tim confirmed, spooning up some corn. He wished this initial question-and-answer session would end sooner rather than later. He didn’t like being the focus of attention in the room. Being the rookie out of eight strapping cowboys made him feel unreasonably vulnerable.
“Where’d you get them scars?” This was the second guy, a rough-looking fellow with long, slicked-back hair, beady blue eyes, and crooked teeth, who carried that air of someone who thought he had something to prove.
Tim looked up and met his gaze, the rice dish heavy in his hand as he stilled himself and studied him. Before he could decide how to answer, the older man spoke up.
“Where’s your manners, Ken? Tim, that there is Kenny Dixon. I’m Deke Hawkes, the foreman here at the Lazy J. That youngster is Jax Belamy.” He continued to point his way around the table. “Ray Criswell, Pete Winslow, Kurt May, Jeff Beardsly, and Rick Criswell. He’s Ray’s twin.”
“Ray is my twin, you mean,” Rick inserted with a smirk, which Deke ignored.
“Welcome to the Lazy J,” Kenny said. “Now, where’d you get them scars?”
Tim deliberately spooned himself some rice, then passed the bowl on to Jeff. With the stillest expression he could manage, he said, “Mack Truck.”
“You got hit by a Mack truck?” Jax said, incredulously.
“Not a Mack truck. The Mack Truck.” He looked around at the uncomprehending faces. “A very large man.”
“What made the scars?” Kenny asked. His oily tone of voice suggested something lewd.
“A plate glass window.” He set his utensils down and placed his hands flat on the table, ready to get up and take his food out to the porch. If he stayed for much more of this, he would end up breaking one of Mitzi’s rules by throwing Kenny out the door, and that would not do…especially on his first day.
“I reckon it’s not a tale he cares to tell,” the foreman said, “so let’s drop the subject, shall we? I’ll say grace, then y’all can dig in.”
At the mention of grace, most of the cowboys in the room quietly folded their hands and bowed their heads. Tim left his hands on the table, and his unwavering gaze held Kenny’s eyes. After an extended moment, Kenny bowed his head, too.
“Hello, Jesus,” Deke said, his voice humble and strong. “It’s the crew out here at the Lazy J again. We’re just thankful for this bountiful meal, and for meaningful work in this world. We’re thankful for the camaraderie we share, and for the opportunity to welcome a new friend into our family. We do our best to do right by You and Your Father, and also by this His creation, which we call home. Amen.”
“Amen,” the other hands echoed, then the clattering of utensils on plates ensued. In the general hubbub, Tim and his scars were forgotten altogether. He caught more than one sidelong glance from Kenny, but no more outright stares or challenges.
After everyone f
inished eating, the others stood up and left the room, groaning and stretching. Tim stood up uncertainly, unwilling to leave his dirty dishes on the table. He wasn’t quite ready to go to his bunk and see who might be sharing the dorm he was assigned to, so he began clearing dishes off the table, taking them to a sideboard at the edge of the room.
Deke poked his head back into the room at the sound of dishes clattering. When he saw who it was, he came into the room and walked his own dishes over.
“Give the boys some time, Tim,” Deke said. “You’re no threat to their jobs or anything, but a couple of ’em have more need to prove how macho they are to the world at large.”
“Thank you,” Tim said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Deke studied him for a moment longer. “You seem like a good sort of fellow. Mr. Thomas told me you’ve seen your share of misery, and you’ve got some restrictions on you that tell me you’ve been in trouble with the law. He didn’t tell me for what. But if you work hard and follow the rules, you’ll get along just fine with me. I’m not one to hold a fella’s past against him, and I’ll give you a fair shake. But break the rules and I’ll show you a whole new level to the idea of ‘fair.’”
“I hear you, sir. I just want to work.”
Deke clapped him on the shoulder. “Glad to hear it, son. Now, Esmeralda has José come and get the dishes, so you don’t really need to clear the table. Why don’t you head on to bed and we’ll see you back here for breakfast at dawn.”
Tim nodded and carried a last stack of plates over to the sideboard before heading out the door and over to bunkhouse number three. Outside, the compound was lit by halide lights, and a yellow bulb cast light on the porch of number three. He opened the door, walked in, and immediately sidestepped to avoid being a silhouette in the doorway while he waited for his eyes to adjust.
Before he could make out his bunk, Jax’s voice carried to him from the dimness. “There’s a light switch behind you,” he said.
“S’okay.”
“No, really. I just turned it off, and Jeff sleeps like a log.”
Without responding, Tim felt along the wall behind him for the switch, then said, “Thanks,” before flipping it. Light flooded the room, and he looked around.
Jeff lay sprawled on the room’s only single bunk, one arm thrown up alongside his head, his jaw slack as he snored softly. On the top bunk of the other set across the room from the one Tim had chosen and made up earlier, Jax lay propped on his side, watching him.
“Don’t know how he does it,” Jax said, gesturing at Jeff. “He walks in, strips, and he’s asleep almost as soon as he hits the bunk. I try, but it still takes me twenty minutes. Hey, that chest there is for you to keep your things in,” he added, pointing at a chest at the foot of the bunk. “Or you can use one of the lockers. The two on this end are taken, but the other three are open. Your dirty clothes can go in the hamper there. Esmeralda does laundry twice a week.”
“Thanks,” Tim said again, lifting the lid of the chest. It was empty, so he set his clothes inside. Then he tossed his dirty clothes in the hamper, hoping he wasn’t supposed to mark them. He already had underwear marked with his prisoner ID number, and he had looked forward to a little laundry anonymity.
Standing on one foot, he tugged on the heel of his boot, trying to slide it off, but he ended up hopping in a little circle. Jax chuckled, and Tim looked up at him sharply.
“Sorry. I just never seen anyone as awkward in cowboy boots as you. Try using the bootjack over by the door. You put the heel in the wedge, stand on the flat part with your other foot, and pull your foot out. Works like a charm.”
Tim saw the device Jax pointed out and he gave it a try. It was definitely easier. “Thanks.”
“You don’t talk much, do you?” Jax asked.
“No.”
“Most city slickers I meet talk non-stop. I thought it was a city thing.”
“You a city slicker then?” Tim couldn’t help but ask.
“Ha ha. No. I was born right here in Syracuse. Never thought to be anything but a cowboy. I just got questions, you know? Not much new under the sun out here, so when something does come up, I get curious.”
“Fair enough,” Tim said, stripping off his t-shirt. He had decided this kid really was simply curious and didn’t mean anything by his questions. He draped his shirt on the edge of the bed, stripped his jeans off, then hung both on a hook by his bunk. They would work for tomorrow’s work clothes.
Jax had lain back on his bunk, giving Tim some privacy—more than he was used to. His days in cellblock G had stripped away any expectation of privacy when it came to his body. Between sharing living quarters with hundreds of cons, the impersonal eyes of guards watching everything, and periodic strip searches, he didn’t have a shred of modesty left.
He flipped the light back off, then climbed the ladder to the top bunk and pulled the sheet up. The spring evening was cool enough to cover up, but it left Tim wondering if they had air conditioning for when temperatures got higher.
“Wonder what the other guy looked like.”
Tim knew Jax’s comment was in reference to his scars, but he chose to ignore it.
“Goodnight, Jax,” he said.
“Goodnight, Tim.”
Chapter Six
It was still twilight when Janie pulled up outside the Chew & Brew, shifted the orange Chevy LUV into first gear and shut it off, setting the parking brake. The little pickup was older than she was, but it had been well-cared-for. She wouldn’t trade it in for the world.
Once inside, she stopped short when she saw Cody sitting at the counter, chatting with Kylie. He was the only customer in the place at the moment, though that was sure to change as folks started coming home from the surrounding farms. She cursed at herself for not seeing his SUV in the parking lot, but was caught in the act of turning around when Kylie called out, “Hey, Mom!”
“Hey,” she said, turning back around to face her daughter. As always, she felt a flush of pride and love at the notion that the beautiful blonde, capable young woman behind the counter was her daughter. But tonight, the warmth was swiftly replaced by discomfort at her father’s proximity. “It was a long day. Thought I’d grab some grub to go....”
“Mom,” Kylie chided. “You can’t avoid Dad forever.”
“Sure I can,” Janie quipped. “I got nothing to say to him, and I don’t want to hear what he has to say.” She shrugged. “What’s the point?”
“So everything you ever taught me about being fair and open-minded just flies out the window for this one man?”
That made her pause. She hated it when her motherly advice came back to bite her in the backside. “This is different.”
“How? You never issued any exceptions in your lectures. I think you should at least hear Dad out. Then you can go back to ignoring him.”
Sighing loudly, feeling like a teenager getting called on the carpet, Janie walked up and sat at the counter, deliberately leaving four stools between her and Cody. “Fine. But get me a chef salad and a bowl of that baked potato soup I smell, please. To go. I’ve got another early day tomorrow, so I can’t stay.” That wasn’t entirely the truth, but she wanted an excuse to get gone sooner rather than later.
“Sure thing, Mom. Dad...here’s your chance.” With that, Kylie turned and made her way into the kitchen, both to get Janie’s order and to offer a little privacy.
“Well?” Janie had no intention of making it easy for Cody to tell her some sob story. She picked up a dessert menu and perused it absently, even though she knew the sweets by heart.
Cody cleared his throat. “I know I was a jerk, and I know I’ll never be able to make it up to you....”
“Make up for what?”
Cody sighed. “Leaving you when you were pregnant with Kylie. Trying to talk you into an abortion. Saying Kylie wasn’t mine. Staying away for all those...for eighteen years. Breaking your heart.” He paused to make sure he had tallied up every hurt he laid on her. “Did
I leave anything out?”
Janie turned her mouth down at the corners in a considered frown. “Oh, probably. But it’s a decent start.”
Cody sighed again. “I know I can’t make it up to you. I was fully prepared to stay away forever and not reopen old wounds, but....” He faltered.
“But what? You saw the family on the news and realized you still loved me? Come on!” For Kylie’s sake, she tried to step on her anger before it got out of control, but she saw red.
“Something like that. I was lying there in the hospital, watching that news story, and I realized I had to try to explain. I couldn’t just—”
Janie shook her head. “You should have. You should have stayed gone. We’re perfectly fine without you. We don’t need you!”
Cody’s posture sagged in defeat, and he stood. Without saying another word, he left the restaurant, standing aside to let Sally and Rand Jepson enter through the door he held open.
It wasn’t until he was gone that his words really registered. Lying in the hospital….
“Wait. He was sick?” she asked. She repeated herself when Kylie came out with her salad. “He was sick?”
Kylie looked around and saw that her father had left the restaurant. “Nice going, Mom.”
Janie didn’t want to admit it, but she felt bad for not listening and hearing Cody out. She hung her head in shame. “I can’t help it. Every time I see him, all I can think about is going into labor alone, driving myself to the hospital, raising you amid the whispers, finishing high school completely exhausted....”
“You had Grandma’s help,” Kylie inserted. “You weren’t completely alone.”
“But I didn’t have your father, the man I loved, and I didn’t know why. Having him at my side would have made life so much easier.” Janie shook her head. “I know I’m stronger for his absence, but good grief! We struggled so much for a lot of years. Now that things have evened out, he waltzes back into our lives and it’s like my brain freezes in witch mode. Do you think I’m damaged?”
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