Jacob turned to find Quint approaching them. Hank quietly said his good-byes and slipped away with a nod. “What can I do for you, Quint?”
Quint regarded him a moment then spoke. “First, I need to know what the deal with Dale is. Zan wouldn’t say anything to me and Aunt Bonnie was so vague I couldn’t tell what she was talking about.”
Jacob pulled his leather work gloves from his back pocket and put them back on his hands. “Zan’s first day in town, Dale tried to pick her up and she shot him down. Dale doesn’t take well to the word no.”
Jacob headed for the south pasture to work on a sticking gate. If Quint finally wanted to talk, he would have to keep up and work as well.
“Not only did she turn him down,” he said when Quint fell into step next to him, “she made him look stupid. I take that back, she didn’t make him look stupid, he managed to do that on his own. It just happened to be in front of his friends.”
Jacob went on to tell Quint about the slashed tire and the incident at the dunk tank that led up to her getting run off the road the last night of the festival.
“No one did anything about it?” Quint’s question sounded more like an accusation aimed at him than local law enforcement.
“Dale had an alibi and Zan couldn’t tell who it was. His truck was as shiny as the day he drove it off the lot.”
“He has to have access to other trucks. His friends? Family?”
“The sheriff can’t check every truck in Wyoming.” He’d already gone over every possibility with Reese. “The sheriff has checked. And will continue to check. Trust me on this. He knows the score and is keeping an eye on Dale.”
Jacob climbed the fence next to the defective gate. He rigged a wire crossways over the door, effectively lifting the dragging corner from the ground. Quint assisted him with competence and ability and asked no more questions until they were through.
Quint looked up at the cloud-filled December sky, small dots of snow freckled his face. He wiped away the snow and shoved his hands into his back pockets before rocking on the heels of his boots. “Do you think he’ll stop at that?”
Did he think Dale could walk away from a woman who’d challenged him? “Honestly, I don’t know. I never would have thought he’d go that far.” He paused, swallowing hard before he continued. “He could have killed her, Quint,” Jacob said, bringing the younger man’s head and eyes forward. “If I hadn’t been waiting for her…” He shrugged, trying to fight the tight pain in his chest.
Crimson heat stained Quint’s cheeks, but he didn’t speak.
“You may not believe this, but I care about her.” More than cared, he wanted to say, but he’d be damned if he told Quint before Zan. “I would never hurt her. Not intentionally.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking about Dale throwing Trisha in Zan’s face or something else, but whatever, he meant what he said.
Quint nodded and the color lessened in his cheeks. “She’s not mad at you. Disappointed maybe, but not mad.”
The tightness in Jacob’s chest loosened and he found it easier to breathe. “Thanks for telling me.”
Quint nodded again and headed back toward the barn. Jacob watched his departing back. He was more relieved than possible that Zan didn’t hate him for not being completely honest with her. He needed to talk to her though. She and Quint were heading back to Texas at the end of the week for Christmas with their family so he had to get his butt, and pride, in gear and call. He remembered the bridle he’d been repairing sitting at home on his table. He’d call her when he picked it up.
When he rounded the corner of his house, he was surprised to find Trisha sitting on his front porch. Dressed much more appropriately, well maybe not more appropriately, but at least much more covered up, in jeans and her coat hanging open to show off the too-tight T-shirt, she stood when she saw him.
“Hi.” She waved and a smile bent the corners of her mouth. “Mrs. Cates, up at the house, told me this is where you lived now. You’ve done pretty good for yourself, Jacob. Foreman.” She nodded and glanced back at his tiny house. “You always did want to work on a farm.”
“What do you want, Trisha?” He didn’t mean to be curt, but spending any time talking to her was the last thing he needed.
“I just wanted to see you. It’s been a long time.”
“Not long enough, as far as I am concerned.” She flinched at his words. He should feel like an ass—but he didn’t.
A film of tears coated her eyes. Jacob was unaffected. He’d seen her turn on the waterworks at the drop of a hat too many times. He didn’t think she could muster a genuine tear in her entire body.
“That’s harsh, don’t you think? We did love each other once.”
“No ‘we’ didn’t. I thought I loved you. You only love yourself and Dale’s money.” He narrowed his eyes at her remembering the pain, the humiliation.
“I never planned for you to be hurt.”
“You might not have, but Dale sure as hell did.” He started to shove past her to go into his house, but stopped. “I have to know. What made you do it?”
“You know I was never cut out to be a farmer’s wife or stay in this hick town.”
They stood on his front steps. Neither moved or said a word. Jacob tried to summon the old feelings for Trisha, the ones before the hate and distrust, but nothing came. Not an inkling of what had drawn them together—or tore them apart.
Was he truly over letting her betrayal dictate the rest of his life?
At the time—at twenty years old—he thought he knew enough about what love was. He’d made up his mind that she was the one and only woman for him. Standing with her on his front porch, clarity hit. She was never what he wanted, never what he needed. She was just—there. He finally understood how Zan and what’s-his-name must have been like together.
“Good-bye, Trisha,” he said, walking in his house, not looking back.
———
“They were supposed to get married,” Missy told Zan. They sat in a booth in the back of the diner. “But two weeks before the wedding, she ran off to California to ‘find herself’. Dale Holstrom took a little vacation about the same time.”
Missy scooped up another bite of blueberry cobbler. She pointed her full spoon at Zan and said, “Rumor had it, they ran off together, but she wasn’t marrying material as far as Papa Holstrom was concerned. So he sowed his oats and then six months later returned home—alone.”
“It almost makes you feel sorry for her.”
“Almost.” Missy shrugged and stuffed the spoon in her mouth and closed her eyes.
Zan came into the diner on her lunch break and Missy could tell that Zan was still upset. She took her lunch, too, and ushered Zan into the farthest booth. After a bowl of Clara’s homemade stew and over a dessert of a decadent cobbler, Zan spilled her guts to Missy—about everything.
She needed someone to talk to. She could call Mackenzie, but her friend was more than a thousand miles away and had her hands full with the baby. And she would never dream of telling her aunt all she had been through. Even with Missy, she glossed over some of the more horrendous doings of Dale, still afraid to lay everything out.
She really liked Missy. They’d hit it off from the beginning, and now with Quint making friends left and right, she had spent more time with her, getting to know her. Missy had never told a soul what happened in the dressing room, so Zan took a chance and told Missy how her relationship with Jacob had progressed.
“I knew it. The way he looks at you.” Missy shook her head. “Anyone can tell.”
“Really?” Heat crawled up Zan’s cheeks.
Missy reached across the table and patted her hand. “Anyone who knows to look for a sign like that.” She chuckled.
“From one hopeless romantic to another.” Zan laughed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen now, though. I haven’t spoken to him since Friday night.”
“Don’t worry about it. Trust me on this. You didn’t miss much after you left, though. Dale and
Trisha stayed on their side of the room, thank God. Cade did get up and sing a few more songs.”
A blush crawled over Missy’s cheeks.
Zan pushed her empty cobbler bowl away and stretched her arms over her head. She looked around the diner at the garish Christmas decorations. Tinsel clung to the potted plants. Red velvety bows were fastened to almost every chair and above every window. Cut-out snowflakes—like the kind Zan made in elementary school back in Fort Worth—hung by the dozens from the beams in the ceiling. Fake snow covered the counter by the register and a four-foot dancing Santa wiggled his tooshy next to the front door. Bing Crosby sang in the background.
It looked like a snow globe exploded and took root.
Zan glanced out the window to the nearly empty street. Most serious shoppers headed east to Sheridan or west to Cody, leaving the stores along Main Street barren. She had done most of her shopping online, opting to have the gifts go straight to her mother’s house, so she wouldn’t have to take the packages with her when she went home for Christmas. With the exception of gifts for Aunt Bonnie and Gene, Zan had finished her shopping.
A few fat, real snowflakes fell from the sky. A soft smile crossed her lips. As a child, she had always dreamt of a white Christmas, but in north Texas, the closest she ever got was an ice storm from time to time, usually after New Year’s Day. Sliding around and falling on her butt was not her favorite winter break ritual—and you couldn’t make decent snow angels in sleet. An actual snowfall was predicted for the next few days across upper Wyoming. Zan couldn’t wait.
“Earth to Zan.” Missy snapped her fingers in Zan’s face. “Where were you right then?”
Zan’s smile grew. “I was thinking back over the holiday’s at home.” A heavy sigh sneaked out. “I can’t wait to see my parents. It’s been almost three months since I’ve seen them.”
“I didn’t tell you my news.” Missy played with a straw on the table turning it around in circles.
“What? Tell me.”
“Cade Holstrom asked me out on a date.” Missy’s face lit up. Her smile was bigger and stronger than Zan thought she had ever seen before.
Zan had noticed the night at Dominique’s that the two were friendlier than normal. Both would take a quick look at the other and several times Missy’s face would soften with a wistful expression.
“That’s great. Where’s he taking you? And when?”
“We’re going to drive out to Cody Friday night to see the Christmas pageant and then go to dinner.” Missy picked up the straw and examined it. “I’m nervous, Zan. I haven’t been on many dates since Peter died.” She set the straw down on the table.
Zan covered Missy’s hand with her own. “You’ll do fine. You guys have been out together several times over the last couple of weeks.”
“Yeah, but that was always with a group of friends. Geez, I feel like I’m in high school again.”
Zan smiled, she knew exactly what Missy was going through.
The bell over the door rang and a group of people came in and sat at two tables. “Duty calls.” Missy rose, grabbed the two empty bowls, and headed for the kitchen. “Hey, don’t get out of town before seeing me again, ’kay?”
“All right. Later tater.” Zan stood, put on her knee length wool coat, scarf and wool cap and headed for the door. She nodded and said a polite hello to a couple of the women she had met on the festival committee then headed out in the snow.
A small amount of accumulation lay on the ground and she took her time walking back to work. Zan stuffed her hands in her pockets and fought the urge to skip across Main Street to the clinic. Just as she stepped off the curb, a snowball pelted her left shoulder. She squealed when some of the snow fell inside the collar of her coat, despite the scarf around her neck.
Zan scanned the area from where the offending snowball had come. On top of the bright blue mailbox, Zan could see a patch of hair sticking out in all different directions. A smile spread across her lips.
“Oh gee, where did that snowball come from?” Zan raised her voice to reach the boy hiding a few feet away. Smothered giggles filled the air. “Gosh, I hope I don’t get hit by another one.”
Zan bent down and picked up a handful of snow, smashing it into a ball. When the young boy stepped out from behind the mailbox and aimed his own weapon, Zan launched hers. It hit him square in the chest.
Ryder Lunsford, Missy’s ten-year-old son, looked stunned for a moment then burst out laughing, but not before he threw another snow missile at Zan. As the snow pelted her stomach, she wondered why he wasn’t in school. Christmas Break didn’t start until the following Monday. Then she remembered the bigger kids had semester finals so the fifth grade down got out at lunchtime all week.
Ryder bent to scoop up more snow and his little hands worked furiously to pack it down tight. He looked up at Zan. The gleam of mischief in his eyes melted her heart. Then he reared back and sent another ice bomb in her direction. She managed to dodge it just as it sailed past her ear.
“Oh yeah?” Zan scooped up a handful of snow and balled it. Ryder screamed and took off around the corner of the building. His laughter filled the air.
When Zan rounded the corner she tossed her snowball, but instead of hitting Ryder, Barry Holstrom stood in his place.
Zan gasped and stood motionless for a moment then finally regained her manners. “I am so sorry, Mr. Holstrom. I didn’t see you standing there. Ryder and I…” She let her words trail off at the overblown scowl on his face.
He made no comment, but let his eyes roam over her. She shuddered and tried to chalk it up to the cool winter wind, but knew it was more likely because of the similar appraisal that his son often performed.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ryder round the next building. He had no more desire to deal with Papa Holstrom than she did. She stuffed her chilled, glove-free hands in her coat pocket.
“My boy did not drive you off the road. If you say different, you’ll be asking for a hell of a lot of trouble.”
Zan’s eyes widened and her heart pounded. The sheriff told her they’d searched the Holstrom home, the businesses and even his buddies’ vehicles for a truck that could have been the one to run her off the road. Any kind of evidence that a truck had been repaired. They didn’t find squat. Dale wasn’t stupid enough to leave anything incriminating around.
In the pit of her stomach, she was still convinced it was Dale, but she didn’t have any proof. So why was Daddy Holstrom all bent out of shape? He all but admitted it by threatening her, didn’t he?
Still…those who say “ignorance is bliss” had the right of it. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. If you’ll excuse me, I’m late for work.” She stepped off the curb and headed to the clinic. “Have a nice day,” she called back to the man.
He shook his head and walked around to the front of the diner.
Zan’s shiver deepened. She hated running into one of the Holstrom men, and this was the most frightening incident of all. He had given her a blatant threat. Walking in the opposite direction from the man, she picked up her pace. She’d make a quick stop before going back to work.
When she finally got back to the clinic and sat back at her desk, her nerves still rattled, she found three pink “while you were out” slips sitting next to the phone. Two were from her mother. The third was from Jacob. It was simple and to the point. “Call me, please.”
Chapter Fifteen
Zan paced the floor in front of her sofa. She hadn’t been this nervous about seeing Jacob since she first met him. She’d called him as soon as she’d seen the note, but of course, he hadn’t been home. She’d left a message on his answering machine telling him to join her for dinner if he was free, and they could talk.
Jacob returned her call while she was assisting Doc with Biscuit, an unruly dog who’d used her arm as a new chew toy, ruining her favorite Santa sweater. When Biscuit and his owner finally left, a voice-message waited with Jacob’s accepta
nce of dinner. She thought about trying to call him back, but was tired of playing phone tag.
Instead, Zan rushed home after a quick stop at the market to buy ingredients to make a speedy version of pot roast—Jacob’s favorite—her mother had taught her years before. After setting the food on to cook she switched out her destroyed sweater, putting on a sky blue twin set with a comfy pair of blue jeans. The baseball charm, which she never took off, hung around her neck and she re-spiked her windblown hair.
She debated whether or not to tell Jacob about her encounter with the Holstrom patriarch. For everyone’s sake she wouldn’t because he’d be angry and probably confront the man. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt anyone. She didn’t want any more problems, just wanted her life to get back to normal.
When the doorbell rang, she’d been so lost in thought she startled and had to clamp her hand on her mouth to keep from crying out. She took a deep breath and answered the door. Jacob stood on her porch with a huge box and a potted white chrysanthemum on top, obscuring most of his face, but Zan couldn’t have missed the smile from yards away.
“Hi,” she said, her own smile widening involuntarily. “Come in, come in.” She moved away from the door, so he could get in with the box and plant. Her heart raced.
Jacob stomped his feet on the porch, knocking free the snow, then he came in. He set the plant in the middle of the kitchen table and carried the box over to the back door and set it down.
“Whatcha got there?” Zan studied the box, her curiosity piqued. Just about anything could fit inside.
“It’s a surprise, but you’ll have to wait.” Jacob took hold of both her hands. “I’m sorry about the other night. I should have told you sooner, but…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath then looked at Zan again. “I was embarrassed.”
“You should never be embarrassed to tell me anything. You know that, right?
“Yeah.” He drew her to him and bent his head to kiss her.
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