Jenna’s Cowboys
by
Laura Jo Phillips
Copyright © 2016 by Kathleen Honsinger
Cover art/design Copyright © 2016 by Kathleen Honsinger
All rights reserved.
Look for previews and coming release announcements at:
Website:
www.laurajophillips.com
Facebook:
facebook.com/laurajophillipsauthor
Other Books by Laura Jo Phillips
The Dracons’ Woman
Book One of the Soul-Linked Saga
The Lobos’ HeartSong
Book Two of the Soul-Linked Saga
The Katres’ Summer
Book Three of the Soul-Linked Saga
The Bearens’ Hope
Book Four of the Soul-Linked Saga
The Gryphon’s Dream
Book Five of the Soul-Linked Saga
The Vulpiran’s Honor
Book Six of the Soul-Linked Saga
The Falcorans’ Faith
Book Seven of the Soul-Linked Saga
The Tigrens’ Glory
Book Eight of the Soul-Linked Saga
Quest for the Moon Orb
The Orbs of Rathira, Book One
Quest for the Sun Orb
The Orbs of Rathira, Book Two
Quest for the Heart Orb
The Orbs of Rathira, Book Three
Secrets Kept
Mixed Blood, Book One
(Available under the name Kathleen Honsinger)
Secrets Told
Mixed Blood, Book Two
Nica’s Legacy
Hearts of ICARUS, Book One
Tani’s Destiny
Hearts of ICARUS, Book Two
Rayne’s Return
Hearts of ICARUS, Book Three
Salene’s Secrets
Hearts of ICARUS, Book Four
Books by Harvey Phillips and Paul Honsinger
To Honor You Call Us
Man of War, Book One
For Honor We Stand
Man of War, Book Two
Brothers In Valor
Man of War, Book Three
Visit the home of the Soul-Linked Saga online at:
www.laurajophillips.com
or email Laura Jo at:
[email protected]
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Jenna glanced in the rearview mirror and saw nothing behind her but a long straight stretch of empty highway, which was the same view she had in front of her. With the exception of one motorcycle, seven pick-up trucks, two SUVs, and one hitchhiker, it was the same view she’d had for more than four hours. She reduced her speed and pulled off to the side of the road, then reached for the map on the passenger seat with a sigh. It was times like this that she considered selling her father’s old Ford Bronco and buying something with one of those fancy built in map computers with GPS.
She studied the map carefully, then checked her odometer. Damn. She’d have sworn she’d gone further, but apparently the turn off to Pikes was still a couple of miles further on. She blamed it on boredom. Other than the sparse traffic and the single hitchhiker, she’d seen no people, no businesses, no houses, no anything but fields and trees and hills for miles.
She folded the map, tossed it back onto the passenger seat, and grabbed a bottle of water from the small cooler on the floor. As much as she wanted to guzzle the whole bottle, she just took a couple of sips in deference to the probable absence of bathrooms in her immediate future. She set the bottle in the cup holder of the console between the seats, put the Bronco in gear, checked the still empty highway behind her in the mirror and pulled back on to the road.
For the thousandth time she asked herself why she was doing this. And for the thousandth time she answered herself with a mental shrug and a half-hearted why not? It was the second day of June and she’d been on the road since the first of March. Three whole months spent looking for a new place to call home. So far she’d been through Oregon, Washington, California, Nevada, Arizona, Colorado, Idaho, and New Mexico and not once had she been tempted to stay anywhere more than a day or two. She’d been on her way to Texas when she got the bright idea to visit her mother’s hometown. In southwest Montana, of all places. Now here she was a few days and a couple hundred dollars’ worth of gas later, going back and forth between wishing she’d get there, and wondering if she should turn around and head for Texas after all.
She squinted into the distance at what she thought might be a sign. A little further on she was sure it was a sign, though still too distant to read. She slowed down as she neared it, then frowned. Sparx, 2 miles, Population 552. Now that was a small town. Unfortunately, it was the wrong small town.
According to the map the next nearest towns of any size were twenty six miles north of where she thought she was, or thirty miles east. Going back the way she came would take hours. Making up her mind in an instant, she veered off the highway onto the smaller road. What the heck. If nothing else they should have a gas station with a bathroom she could use. If she got real lucky, they’d have a restaurant too. She hadn’t eaten since the stale donut she’d had for breakfast and that had been hours ago.
She bit her lip as she drove, wondering where she’d gone wrong. She’d never had trouble reading a map before, but she’d clearly made a mistake somewhere along the way. Maybe someone in Sparx could help her find Pikes.
A sign warned her that she was coming up to the town itself so she reduced her speed and, a few moments later, entered the town beneath an arch that announced she was Welcome To Sparx. She wasn’t gonna hold her breath on that one. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been welcomed anywhere.
The town wasn’t little. It was tiny. She smiled as she drove slowly along Main Street which consisted of half a dozen blocks of old fashioned storefronts. From what she could see the town was only a couple of blocks deep on either side of Main Street. Unlike a lot of small, out-of-the-way towns she’d seen, this one was bright and clean, the buildings old but well taken care of, and the people on the sidewalks looked happy and relaxed. The entire town emitted an overall impression of friendliness and tranquility that appealed to her a great deal. She shook her head at herself. Wishful thinking was on a roll today.
She drove to the far end of the business district…all six blocks…and turned around, this time paying more attention to the businesses. Among others she saw a law office, Sheriff’s office, two bars, one gas station, a gun shop, beauty salon, tack store, a couple of clothing stores, a barber, used book store, grocery store, liquor store, post office and, right there in the middle of Main Street, a restaurant with a sign over the door proclaiming it to be Meg’s Diner. Spotting a parking slot right in front of the diner she immediately turned into it and parked.
A quick glance in the mirror when she reached for her purse caused her to wince. She pulled the elastic from her limp ponytail, dragged a brush through her hair and put it back up, then smeared a little lip balm over her chapped lips and called it done. One thing she’d learned over the past three months was that looking good and traveling didn’t go hand in hand. She was tired and it showed, but there wasn’t much she could do about it at the moment.
She picked up the traitorous map, slip
ped it into her purse, and got out of the Bronco, locking up before stepping onto the sidewalk. She looked around, her face heating as she realized that several people were staring at her. She glanced down at herself with a frown. She wore jeans, soft and faded, but without holes, rips, or tears despite the fashion for them, white sneakers and a blue ribbed cotton top. Not fancy, but she was clean and decent. She looked back up, noticing for the first time that the overwhelming majority of the pedestrians were male.
Her stomach growled, reminding her why she was there. She turned around and crossed the sidewalk, trying to dismiss the stares. She pulled open the door and entered the diner which looked like a million other small town diners. A Formica counter with stools bolted to the floor along its length, booths along the front, side, and back walls, and nine or ten tables of varying sizes filling the remaining floor space. It was clean, cool, and somehow friendly despite all the stares she was getting from the other diners who were, she couldn’t help but notice, exclusively male.
She blushed and looked around uncertainly, relieved when a strikingly pretty woman in her late forties with sleek, chin length brown hair, wearing a blue apron over jeans and a white tee appeared through a swinging door. She spotted Jenna right away and walked toward her with a coffee pot in one hand and a smile on her face.
“Hello, Sugar,” she said. Jenna couldn’t help but return the woman’s smile. It was so warm and sincere. Not just a stretch of her lips, but an honest to goodness smile that encompassed her entire face, including her soft brown eyes. How long had it been since anyone had smiled at her like that? She didn’t know, but she suddenly had to struggle against the sting of tears.
“You all right, hon?” the woman asked, leaning toward her from behind the counter, her expression now one of concern.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Jenna said, smiling shyly. “Just tired is all. Where should I sit?”
“Anywhere you like,” the woman said. Jenna glanced around to see that the other diners were still staring at her.
“How about the counter?” That would put her back to everyone else without appearing rude.
“Pick your stool,” the woman replied. Jenna chose a stool in the middle of the counter where no one else was sitting and the woman put a menu down in front of her. “My name’s Meg,” she said. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Jenna James. It’s nice to meet you Meg. I’d like water and coffee, please.”
“Coming up.”
Jenna looked around, spotted the restrooms at the back and got up. She kept her head down, refusing to look at the men who continued staring at her as she worked her way around the tables to the back. She kept expecting her heart to start beating too fast, making her dizzy and a little breathless the way it did these days whenever she got scared or tense or exerted herself too much, but to her surprise it didn’t happen. She was a little nervous, she realized, but not afraid. She thought about that for a few moments before concluding that the stares weren’t threatening or even overtly sexual. They were just…curious.
She washed up, splashed some cool water on her face and patted it dry with paper towels, then rubbed some scented lotion into her hands. It was her own personal formulation that she’d created herself, and it instantly soothed and relaxed her. By the time she got back to her stool at the counter she felt a lot better. She sipped the hot coffee, surprised to find that it was really good. Rich and strong without a hint of bitterness. She took another appreciative sip, then reached for the menu. After a few moments she set it down and reached for the coffee again.
“This coffee is wonderful,” she said when Meg stopped in front of her after delivering an order.
“I’m glad you like it,” Meg said. “Would you like to order something?”
“Yes, please,” Jenna said. “Would it be okay to order an omelet?”
“Sugar, if it’s on the menu you can order it.”
“Great,” Jenna said. “I’d like a veggie omelet with cheese, no sides.”
“You got it,” Meg said as she scribbled on her pad. She left to put the order in and Jenna took another few minutes to enjoy her coffee before unfolding the map.
“You lost, Sugar?” Meg asked a few minutes later when she paused to refill Jenna’s cup.
“Embarrassingly, yeah, I think I must be,” Jenna said. “I’m usually pretty good at reading maps, but I’m stumped.”
“What’re you looking for?”
“A little town called Pikes,” Jenna said. “It’s right here on the map, and I’d swear I followed it exactly, but obviously I messed up somewhere. I can’t even find Sparx and I’m sitting in it.”
“You’re not lost, hon, you’re right where you meant to be,” Meg said with another one of her kind smiles. “Sparx used to be called Pikes, but the name’s been changed for about thirteen years now. That must be an old map.”
Jenna looked at Meg in surprise, then smiled. “That makes me feel like less of an idiot. Of course the fact that I didn’t even consider how old the map is makes me feel like more of an idiot again.”
Meg laughed good-naturedly. “At least you can read one of the darn things,” she said. “I swear they make those things with some sort of secret code so only men can make sense of ‘em. Well, men and really smart young women,” she amended with a wink. A bell dinged and Meg looked over her shoulder. “Be right back, Sugar.”
Jenna nodded and refolded her map. So this was Pikes. She wondered why a town would change its name. She couldn’t remember ever hearing of such a thing before; although, she conceded, that didn’t mean much. Before hitting the road three months earlier she’d never been much of anywhere except for a few road trips with her father.
“Here ya go,” Meg said, sliding a plate in front of her. “You need anything to go with that, you just let me know.”
“Thanks, Meg,” Jenna said, picking up her fork and digging in hungrily. She ate quietly for a few minutes before Meg returned again.
“You mind me asking why you’re looking for Pikes?” she asked, topping off Jenna’s coffee again.
“My mother was from here,” Jenna said. “Not that I knew that until recently.”
“No?”
“She died when I was four,” Jenna said. “I don’t know much about her except for the few things my Dad told me, which wasn’t a lot. He died seven years ago, and I just sold the house I grew up in a few months back. While I was clearing out the house I found a box with a few of my mother’s things, which included her high school yearbook from Pikes High School.”
“So you just decided to up and visit on the spur of the moment?”
“Yes, and no,” Jenna replied, surprising herself with how open she was being with this woman. “I’ve been on the road since early March, looking for a new place to call home. A few days ago I was in a hotel room in New Mexico, intending to head down to Texas, and I got it in my head that I should go to Pikes instead. The next morning I headed north instead of south and here I am.”
“What was your mother’s name?” Meg asked.
“Janice James Carmody,” Jenna said. “Did you know her?”
“No, Sugar, I’m not from here, but my husband Hank is. You finish eating before your food gets cold, and I’ll see if I can round him up. I think I heard him come in through the back a bit ago.”
“Thanks, Meg,” Jenna said. She watched as Meg went through the swinging door into the kitchen, then ate a couple more bites of her omelet before deciding she was full.
She was excited at the prospect of meeting someone who knew her mother, but nervous too. She knew so little about the woman who’d given birth to her. She didn’t even know what kind of a person she’d been. What if she’d done something really horrible before leaving home and joining the service? What if the people in this town hated her, and transferred that hate to her on the spot? She almost smiled at that. If she got that reaction, at least she’d know how to deal with it.
“I’ll be damned,” a male voice said loud
enough for just about everyone to hear.
Jenna looked up in surprise to see a tall, middle aged man following Meg through the swinging door, then along the back of the counter toward her. He was tall and broad shouldered with rugged features, gray hair, a deep tan, and dark eyes that were currently fixed steadily on her. Meg glanced over her shoulder at him, then shrugged as she stopped in front of Jenna.
“Jenna James, this is Hank Perkins,” she said. “I’m guessing from the dumbfounded look on his face that Hank recognizes something about you.”
“I apologize for staring,” Hank said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at her. “Looking at you is like looking through a window on the past.”
Jenna’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She didn’t remember her mother, but she had pictures of her and knew very well that she didn’t look anything like her at all.
“You don’t look a bit like your mother,” he said as though he’d read her mind. “But you sure do look like your grandmother.” He shook his head wonderingly. “Oh, you’re a good bit younger than she was even when I was a kid, but you’re the spitting image of Caro James.”
“Caro?” Jenna asked. “Was that my mother’s mother?”
Hank’s head tilted to the side as he studied her more carefully. “Yes, Caro was Jan’s mother,” he said. “Meg says she’s passed on.”
“Yes, twenty years ago now, when I was four,” Jenna said. “Car accident.”
“I’m real sorry to hear that,” Hank said, and Jenna had the feeling that he really meant it. “Far as I know, Ms. James, you’re the last of the James family. How much do you know about your mother’s childhood?”
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