She knocked on the front door and fidgeted with her watch while she waited. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a long wooden ramp that led down to the driveway beside the house. The strip nearest the farmhouse was leveled on the steep hillside and–she had to blink a few times for it to register–it was paved. The pavement seemed so out of place amongst an otherwise endless stretch of green.
The front door squeaked, jolting her back to the present. Alec greeted her with a brisk nod and turned, leaving her in his wake. So far, second impression is not much better than the first, she thought as she stepped into the foyer.
She followed him down a narrow hallway to a cramped room barely large enough for the desk and bookcase it contained. The solitary window overlooking the pine forest seemed far too small compared to the other windows she’d seen that day. She dared a quick glance at the shelves and noticed that she’d read most of the horse encyclopedias and training manuals that he owned. To her surprise, she also noted a long row of hardcover classics by Tolstoy, Shakespeare, and Hemingway.
Her palms began sweating as he shut the hallway door. “Have a seat. And just so you know, I prefer my staff to use this,” he said, motioning to the door behind his desk. “It’s around at the back porch.”
“Oh.” She swallowed hard. “Sorry about that.”
“You didn’t know,” he replied, pushing a few pieces of paper towards her. “How was your first day?”
For the first time, Rebecca looked directly at him. As much as she hated to admit it, Allison was right–Alec was very easy on the eyes. His Stetson had concealed his features the previous day, but today he wasn’t wearing it. He had shockingly light eyes, the color of molten silver, contrasting against dark brown hair and tanned skin. He wasn’t as tall as Tommy or as broad as Kevin, but his presence somehow filled the entire room. She noticed worry lines on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes, giving him perhaps a harsher appearance than he would’ve had if he weren’t a rancher. Then again, maybe his appearance just matched his personality. She couldn’t remember ever taking such an instant dislike to someone.
Of course, the fact that he’d mistaken her for a Yankee didn’t win him any points, either.
At last she remembered that he’d asked her a question. “It was fine,” she said as she dropped her gaze to the application and scribbled her name. “Tommy introduced me to all the horses, and I met Roger and Kevin and Allison.”
“And your cabin is comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you. Very cozy.” She started to write 08 for her birth month but seamlessly changed it to 03.
“I’m curious, Miss Sheehan, as to how you ended up in Jackson. Seems like a big leap from Boston.”
She shifted in her chair. “You can call me Rebecca, Mr. Westin.”
“You can call me Alec.”
Rebecca paused and glanced at him again. Bad idea. Through dark lashes, his light eyes were staring back at her, almost right through her. It was unnerving, like fingernails scratching across a chalkboard. Quickly she looked back at the application.
“Well, Alec, my brother is a teacher at the high school in town. He invited me to come out for the summer.”
“But you’re here on my ranch, not spending time with your brother.”
She shrugged, realizing he made a very valid point. “I’ll see him on my off days, I’m sure.”
Alec leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “What type of riding did you do back home?”
Rebecca tried to shake the sensation of his eyes burning holes into her forehead. “A little bit of everything…dressage, equitation, hunter-jumper.”
“What types of horses have you worked with?”
“Mostly Thoroughbreds,” she replied, wondering when she’d become such a good liar. “And a few Arabians.”
“Hmmm. So this ranch is a whole new environment for you, then?”
You can say that again.
“Yes, it is. But I’m enjoying it so far.”
A gentle knock came on the office door, and a stout middle-aged woman wearing medical scrubs poked her head inside. “Your father is asking for you.”
“Thank you, Lucy,” he said, turning back to Rebecca. “Excuse me for a minute.”
Only after he left did she release a deep breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. There was something unsettling about Alec’s demeanor, but for the life of her, she had no idea what it was. Only one word came to her mind to describe her new boss.
Intense.
To an alarming degree.
He returned a minute later, his eyes even colder than they’d seemed before. “I’m sorry about that. My father is…not well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
A moment of awkward silence passed before Alec motioned to her paperwork. “You don’t have to finish that now. You can bring it back to me in the morning.”
“Oh…okay,” she said, hoping she didn’t look too relieved as she gathered the forms and rose from her chair.
“Do you know where the dining hall is?”
“Yeah. Tommy showed me around this afternoon.”
“Good.” He paused before extending his hand. “Well, welcome to the Flying W.”
*
Rebecca’s edginess had yet to wear off as she crawled into her bunk that evening. She pulled the flannel covers over her head and closed her eyes, figuring a good night’s sleep was just what she needed. Unfortunately, her subconscious disagreed.
In her dream, she was back in Southie, turning the key in the door to Sean’s apartment. Usually the walls were vibrating from the relentless blare of the stereo bass, but today there was silence. The only thing she heard when she stepped into the foyer was the quiet hum of the refrigerator. She set her backpack next to the empty pizza box and shuddered as a roach scurried across the linoleum floor.
“Sean?” she called.
No response. The pervasive scent of beer and cigarettes hung in the air as she surveyed the empty living room. Diffused yellow light from the streetlamp illuminated the rolling papers that were stacked on the coffee table. The lone item of décor was a faded poster of Fenway Park, hanging askew on the mildewed wall.
The only thing she wanted to do was run, but instead she inched towards the bedroom door and hesitantly pushed it open. The stench hit her like a punch in the face, making her stomach convulse. Then she saw Sean crumpled on the floor beside the bed, and her hand flew to her mouth.
It was an all-too-familiar scene–neatly chopped lines of cocaine on the nightstand, rolled dollar bills on the pillow, empty syringes on the floor beside him. This time was different, though. He wasn’t high or passed out. He wasn’t simply sleeping it off. His hazel eyes stared up at nothing as she knelt down to feel for a pulse that was no longer beating.
At twenty-three, his life was over.
She wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t even saddened, not really. She reached for Sean’s phone and dialed 911, wordlessly setting the receiver on the nightstand. The call would prompt a visit from a nearby police officer, which was all that was necessary at this point. When she turned to Sean again, something compelled her to touch his eyelids and gently close them.
Maybe because that’s what they always did in the movies.
Or maybe because it just seemed like the right thing to do.
The sudden blare of an alarm clock jolted her out of her dream and back to reality. She was completely disoriented as she sat bolt upright, slamming her head on the bunk above her. Through the darkness, she somehow discerned her roommate leaping from the top bunk and landing with a thud on the hardwood floor.
“Sorry,” Allison whispered, quickly silencing the alarm. “Are you alright?”
The tension drained from Rebecca’s muscles when her roommate turned on the lamp, illuminating the features of the cabin. “Yeah,” she replied, rubbing the top of her head. “I was just in a really deep sleep.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be quiet.”
&nbs
p; Somehow she didn’t picture Allison and quiet in the same sentence. “It’s okay. I need to get up anyway. Roger said I should go with you this morning to start learning the routine.”
Even at five in the morning, Allison’s energy showed no signs of waning. “Super! Yeah, I guess there is a lot to learn. It’s easy, though. You’ll have it down in no time.”
Wanna bet? she thought as she kicked off her covers.
Fifteen minutes later, the girls were in the dining hall feasting on bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “So what did Alec want yesterday?” Allison asked.
Rebecca shrugged and took a bite of toast. “I didn’t really have an interview the first time around, so he needed me to fill out some paperwork. I went to the wrong door, though.”
“You couldn’t find the office around back?”
“I didn’t know about it.”
“So he let you inside the house?”
She recalled the row of classic books and suddenly envisioned Edgar Allan Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart bodies buried beneath the floorboards.
“Um, yeah,” she replied uncertainly. “Why? Is he an axe murderer or something?”
Allison giggled. “Of course not. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I’ve worked here for four years and I’ve never once set foot in the farmhouse. I guess he trusts you.”
A stab of guilt pierced Rebecca. How much would Alec–or anyone else–trust her when they discovered she’d invented her entire history with horses?
“You’re telling me no one ever goes in there?” Rebecca asked.
“No, not since Walter had his fall. Did Tommy tell you what happened?”
“Only that he was paralyzed.”
“From the neck down. Walter was one of the most talented horsemen you’ve ever seen. He used to tour all over the west doing riding and training clinics. My mom took me to one of his shows when I was nine, and I still remember every minute of it. He just had a way with them, you know? Alec’s the same–he’s much better with horses than he is with people.” Allison paused to sip her coffee. “Anyway, they were moving a herd of cattle over from Idaho, when there was a massive landslide–something like four-hundred feet down into a ravine. Walter was the only one caught in the slide that actually made it out alive. Alec saw the whole thing happen from the hilltop. Nothing he could do, poor guy, except just stand there and watch.”
She felt an unexpected rush of sympathy. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“Well, of course not. But how would you like to be in his shoes?”
For some odd reason, Rebecca thought of her mother. She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed her plate back, overwhelmed by the desire for some fresh air.
“I have to drop that paperwork off to him. I’ll meet you down in the barn.”
She pulled on her jacket and made her way through the dewy grass to her cabin. Her breaths came out in little white puffs as she collected the forms and marched up the hill towards the farmhouse. The sun peeked over the mountaintops as she stepped onto the back porch to knock on the office door.
“You just missed him.”
Startled, Rebecca whirled around. An old man, more skeleton than human, sat hunched in a wheelchair not ten feet away from her. His shriveled arms hung limp over the chair, his bony fingers gnarled with arthritis. Thick tubes ran from his throat and nose and disappeared behind the chair, hissing with each exhale. It was one of the most disturbing sights she’d ever seen–and she’d seen a few.
“You must be Rebecca.”
She was too distressed by his appearance to respond right away. “Yes, Mr. Westin,” she replied, struggling to gather herself. “It’s good to meet you, sir.”
“You, too, young lady. You sure are a sight for sore eyes.”
A nervous laugh escaped her throat. Walter’s face creased into a feeble smile, and she saw a glimmer of how handsome he must have been as a younger man. His eyes, though dull, were the same sharp gray shade as Alec’s eyes.
“You can set those papers inside, I’m sure. I’ll tell Alec you were here.”
Rebecca shivered as she opened the door and placed her application on the desk. Then she stepped back onto the porch and noticed that Walter wore only a thin sweater. “Would you like me to bring you a blanket?”
“That would be most kind, dear. There’s a wool blanket over the back of the couch, just down the hall in the living room.”
She entered the office again and hesitantly opened the door to the farmhouse. She lingered this time in the hallway, gazing at a few of the old photographs. Black and white photos of Walter in his younger days were on display, mostly of him on horseback. There were several shots of Alec, too, maybe in his mid-teens, in what appeared to be a calf roping competition at the rodeo. Then there was a small, faded photo of Walter with an elegant dark-haired woman–Alec’s mother, perhaps?
What are you doing, snooping around like this? she scolded herself, quickly striding down the hall.
Unlike the rest of the farmhouse, which showed every minute of its age, the living room looked as modern as the guest lodge. She gawked at the beautiful stone fireplace, tall open-beamed ceiling, and bright Santa Fe décor–geometric patterns of reds and purples and teals. She couldn’t have guessed, looking from the outside, that there was so much space inside the house. And she never would have guessed that two bachelors like Walter and Alec would decorate their home like this.
Rebecca forced herself to concentrate, locating the wool blanket and pulling it off the leather couch. As she turned, she noticed a wide doorway leading to the back of the house. The lights were off, but she could still discern the medical equipment lining the walls. Something resembling a huge respirator stood in the corner, full of wires, dials, and switches too numerous to count. Two additional wheelchairs and a long folding table sat near the entryway, next to a nurse’s bag filled with syringes. The needles produced an image of Sean’s lifeless face, and that suffocating feeling came rushing back into her lungs.
“Here you are, sir,” she said as she emerged onto the porch.
“Please call me Walt,” he requested as she knelt in front of him.
She managed a wobbly grin. “Okay, Walt,” she replied, spreading the blanket across his chest and tucking the ends behind his shoulders. “How’s this?”
“Fine, dear. Thank you kindly.” A moment later he added, “You have a very distinct accent, Rebecca. Where do you come from?”
“I’m from Boston.”
Another smile appeared on the old man’s face. “You’re a long way from home.”
Rebecca opened her mouth to reply when she heard footsteps behind her. Figuring it was the nurse, she turned and rose to her feet–only to find herself face to face with Alec. He stood on the stairs with a saddle slung over his shoulder, staring in bewilderment between her and his father. She hardly dared to breathe, certain that she was the first staff member to interact with Walter for a long time. Somehow she had a feeling she’d just crossed a major boundary of the Westin household.
“Hell, son, you gonna stand there all day?”
Alec lowered his shoulder and set the saddle on the porch. “I’m just surprised to see you outside, Pop. Where’s Lucy?”
“Finishing the laundry, I think. This young lady showed up with some paperwork for you and she offered to get me a blanket.”
Alec brushed past Rebecca and grabbed the handles on the wheelchair. “You should be inside.”
“I have every right to sit on my own porch and watch the sun come up.”
“Well, it’s up now, so let’s get in the house. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
Rebecca hadn’t said a word since Alec appeared. She hadn’t even moved. She almost felt the need to apologize, but she didn’t know why. She hadn’t done anything wrong–had she? So why did she feel so uncomfortable? And why in the world was Alec glaring at her like that?
“Thanks for stopping by, Rebecca,” Walter said. “And thanks for the blanket. You can come say hello to me anytime y
ou want, y’hear?”
Her heart melted at his humble request. “Okay, Walt, I will,” she replied, glancing uncertainly at Alec. He stared back at her, his face devoid of emotion, before he pushed his father past her and disappeared inside the house.
Chapter 4
Rebecca’s hands were still shaking when she entered the barn a few minutes later. Alec could have thanked her, at least, for getting his father the blanket. She didn’t go up to the farmhouse to interfere with their lives. She didn’t know Walter would be outside. She was just dropping off the application, as Alec had requested. So why did he appear to be so angry with her? What had she done?
“There you are,” her roommate greeted. “Ready to get started?”
“Let’s do it,” she said, eager to get her mind off Alec. Working with the horses would require her undivided attention.
Allison tossed her a plastic scoop. “So we start with morning feed. These guys go bananas if they don’t get fed in the first ten seconds.”
True enough, the horses whinnied and kicked at their stall doors as the girls pushed a wheelbarrow full of sweet feed down the aisle. “Alright, alright,” Allison shouted over the ruckus. “We get the point!”
Rebecca laughed. “You weren’t kidding.”
Allison grinned and pointed to the laminated sheet posted on each stall door. “It’s easy. Their feed rations are listed here, along with any supplements. You’ll see as you go along.”
Quickly she got lost in the rhythm of measuring and pouring grain for the hungry horses. Afterwards they climbed into the hayloft and dropped flakes of hay into each horse’s stall. As they descended back into the barn, Kevin came swaggering down the aisle.
“So nice of you to join us,” Allison called. “We’ve been down here for half an hour.”
“Lighten up, Alli. It’s our first day back.”
His demeanor completely changed when he saw Rebecca stepping down the ladder. “Ah, my day just got better,” he added, folding his robust arms across his chest. “Good morning, Boston.”
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