“Mandy,” she turned hearing Jake speak. His voice seemed to tear at her with its kindness. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Sorry about what? That I got my ass whipped? You’re never sorry about that.”
“It was unnecessarily rough. I should talk to the Judge about the severity of his sentencing.”
“Don’t bother on my account. It’s over and it won’t happen again. I assure you of that.” She stared at his withered face for some seconds then tried to brush past him.
“I think we should talk.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“I’d like to explain everything that had you so curious.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“Amanda, don’t cut me off.” He was still speaking kindly, though his irritation was beginning to show.
“What we had is over Jake,” she stated her position succinctly.
He was angry now. “Only because of your misplaced pride.”
“Maybe so,” she answered, but she wasn’t budging.
“I told you before, I won’t let this matter drop—trust me, we are not over, and you’re not writing me off.”
She almost smirked with glee at that hotheaded retort, but instead she whisked past him too quickly for him to grab her. So fucking sure of himself, the bastard! She fumed all the way home, as she set her aching ass on the seat of the truck, and with every bump along fifteen miles of potholed roads until she drove into Birch Valley Stables. Even walking was pure hell, so that her first act on entering the house was to break down in tears.
Chapter Twelve
Things Wrought In The Dark Of Night
The quietest place in all of Birch County seemed to be the offices of the White Birch Review. With so little going on in the sleepy berg and the surrounding community, there was little to write about. The only really lively thing that had happened in days was the incident in the old Courthouse as Amanda Plover’s behind met with an awesome fate at the hand of Deputy Jimmy Clayton. Would have made one titillating story, but Jake would be damned if he’d print one word about that unfortunate scene. He wasn’t much of a newspaperman suppressing a story, but this was one he hoped would die inside that stifling courtroom with the handful that had the deplorable task of witnessing the event.
Since that day, Jake had laid low, going to the stables only once. He heard through Hank Devlin that Amanda was still working, same as ever, if not a little more distant—but then that was nothing new for Amanda Plover. Eventually, he’d have to show up, but as long as things were running so smoothly without him, he figured it was just easier—give Amanda time to cool down. Not that this was easy. At least twice a day he had a good mind to ride over to the stables and confront her. He figured it might just take another paddling to knock some sense into her. But after this last ordeal, he knew she needed some time to recover, physically and emotionally. Ah! It was such a quandary. A tough one, that endlessly tossed around inside his thoughts. Eventually, the answer would come, but he wasn’t sure when.
When the door to the newspaper office suddenly flew open, Jake was so lost in thought that he jumped a mile hearing the unexpected sound. What followed was even more aggravating to his frayed nerves.
“Can you imagine the gall!” Cousin Cissy stormed through the door looking as though she was about to spit nails. “I can’t believe the man. He’s totally crazy!” She paced the floor looking so distraught that Jake almost laughed.
“What’s gotten in to you?”
“A friggin’ maniac! I’m in love with a maniac.” She thought a moment. “Maybe you could help me since you have so much experience with this—what do you do when you have fall out of love with someone?”
“What makes you think I’m so experienced with that?” he said feigning hurt.
“Well, obviously, Amanda dumped you.”
Jake shook his head, having no intention of going down that road with Cissy.
“So, what is this big problem you’re having with Garth? It is about Garth?”
“Damn right, it’s about Garth. The bastard!”
“Yes…”
“He wants to get married!”
“To you!” Jake almost spit out his coffee.
“See. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard?”
The initial shock over, Jake settled, watching Cissy continue to stew. “You’d think the guy just spanked you, Cis. Or worse yet, tortured you with hot oil and threw you in a tar pit.”
“Jake,” she droned unhappily. “What am I going to do?”
He shrugged. “How the hell am I supposed to know? I can hardly conduct my own love life.”
“But married? Me?”
“Did he explain himself?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “He loves me.”
“That’s a great reason. You love him?”
“Of course I do. But married?” She fumed a little more, “He just wants to keep the thumb screws on me.”
“And would that be so bad?” Jake couldn’t have been more delighted with this news. Now, if he could only steer her in the right direction.
“Yeah, sure, of course you’d agree.”
“There’s nothing wrong with settling down.”
“Oh, damn. I love him so much I can hardly see straight sometimes. And then he makes me so mad I want to break it off. What do you think being married is going to do?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never been married. But don’t go tossing the proposal away. Could be the best proposition you’ll ever get.”
“You really think so?”
“Garth Branch is the best husband material around here. Remembering some of jerks you dated, you should be happy that he wants you—bratty side and all.”
“But marriage just isn’t my style,” she said while slumping into a chair.
Jake watched her for a few moments, then consulting his watched reminded her that she should be at work.
“I’m too shook up,” she said wearily.
“Maybe so, but I think a little manual labor would do you some good.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll call in sick.”
“Really?”
She stared at the floor for some seconds, then at Jake. “Oh, damn! I can never win around here. I should just marry Garth to get away from you. First, you become my guardian, then my boss. You’ve got way too much control of my life.”
“Go on, Cissy. Get back to the stables before I fire you—or better yet, cane your behind.” He started to rise, as though he was going for her, and she jumped from her chair.
“Okay, okay, I’ll get going. But please, don’t say anything to anyone about this, please.”
“I promise.”
She was out the door seconds later, Jake shaking his head in amazement.
An hour later Jake was still in his office about to leave when Clinton Dawson and Jed Stallings came through the door.
“What’s this about a sale of Birch Valley Stables?” Clinton fixed a keen eye on Jake, his head sort of cocked at a funny angle. Clint was almost seventy, a little hunched in the shoulders, his greyish hair a little too long for an older gent, but it was the way he’d always worn it.
“Sale? There’s no sale,” Jake responded.
“There have been some pretty nosy people around the past couple of days, asking all kinds of question. Now I understand they are an investment group out of Sacramento. These your people?”
“Not mine. I don’t know a thing about them” Jake insisted. And he didn’t.
“Amanda start this?”
“I have no clue. I haven’t seen her in a week.”
“I want this on the up and up. And right now things sound pretty fishy here.”
“How about I talk to her?” Jake said. “I was just about to run out there and see how things are going.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Jed added. “Here I thought you were arranging a sale.”
“I’ll find out, Jed. Don’t get bent out of shape yet.”
“Hell, I thought Amanda Plover would be out on her ear by now—especially after she broke in here.”
“How did you find out about that?”
“My wife plays bridge with May Kingston.”
“And she said something?”
“Enough to know that the bitch got her fanny royally whipped—which she deserved. Why the hell didn’t you fire her?”
“Misunderstanding, gentlemen. Let me find out what’s happening and I’ll call you tonight.”
It takes exactly twenty-two minutes at 55 miles an hour to get from White Birch to the stables. It took Jake seventeen and a half minutes once he’d hopped in his truck. And then another sixty seconds to have Ms. Plover cornered.
“What gives, Amanda? You’re going behind my back now since you think I slighted you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Jed and Clinton are hearing some odd things about investors from Sacramento. What’s going on?”
“I have every right to seek other investors, to buy those buzzards out if I can, and that’s exactly what I plan to do. I almost have things arranged.”
“Really? And what if they don’t sell?”
“You know as well as I do that they will. Just because your schemes failed, doesn’t mean that mine will.”
“You’re looking for the controlling majority?”
“You got it.” She was smug, sassy and very in control. A whole lot different than the last time he saw her; and though a good deal prettier now, he wasn’t sure he didn’t like the more humble Amanda Plover better.
“So, it’s all lined up, huh?”
“I certainly hope so,” she said, pointing her haughty nose in the air. “If I’d been in my right mind when I moved back here, I’d have never sought local money in the first place.”
“You might be cutting off your nose to spite your face.”
“Then that will be my doing, won’t it?”
Jake shook his head. “You know, you didn’t have to let it come to this.”
“But I did,” she stated flatly, as though there were some triumph in that.
“You sure did. I thought I was a hard ass, but you, lady, take the cake.” He stared at her as though he could stare through her. “You want to know what I think?”
“I don’t really care, but I suppose you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“Yeah, I am. I think this has nothing to do with the stables. It has everything to do with you and me, and you’re fucking scared of being in love.”
“Oh, don’t kid yourself.”
“No, I’m not anymore. You’re right about that. I wouldn’t try to be in love with you. It’s just too damn hard. Too much to hope that I can thaw an iceberg.”
She looked a little stunned by that assessment; but the moment only lasted seconds, as her mouth twisted into a contemptuous grin. “Well, so much for not letting the matter drop?” The ache inside her seemed to center in her chest. A mean hurt rising swiftly, she had to toughen herself against the feeling and push away the threatening tears. “Guess it didn’t take much for you to lose your nerve, just that testosterone talking at the courthouse.”
“I suppose so. I was foolishly in love with you then. I’m certainly not now. Good luck pulling off your little coup. It will be a relief not to worry about this place.”
He was gone seconds later, leaving Amanda breathing heavily. Her heart was pounding as was her head; and her stomach felt as though she’d just swallowed battery acid. This was not what she expected. Not at all. She’d waited a week for Jake to appear—as he said he would. Half her heart wanted him to shake her back to reality after that dreadful birching. She wanted him to hold her. She needed some kind of comfort—even if she did push him away. But he hadn’t come, as though he didn’t care. Where was the love now? How could it disappear so fast? And what happened to that sweeping vow? She could only conclude that the love was as hollow as all the other hollow loves in her life. Just another bad end, to a bad romance. She wanted to cry now that he was gone, but couldn’t. Saddling Pepper, she decided that it was time for a long ride.
“Hey! Where are you off to,” she heard Hank’s voice call to her as she was headed toward the pasture.
“Out!” she called back.
“Not now!” he spoke sharply—enough to draw her back close.
“I won’t be long, but I need to get out of here.”
“You want to face this sky on horseback?” He turned his attention toward the darkened horizon before them, seeing nothing but churning clouds, hearing little but the rumbling of thunder.
“I said I’d be quick and I will—half hour.”
“No more.”
“Of course not,” she said, and before he could say more, she was gone, Pepper prancing like a three-year-old, as anxious as his rider to quit the paddock.
The storm advanced quickly with the sky opening in a torrential downpour not forty minutes later. At six o’clock, Amanda still wasn’t back. “Serves her right,” Hank declared aloud as the water drenched the summer-parched ground, turning dust into mud, and the footpaths into rivers of water.
***
At seven thirty Jake got a call at home from Hank.
“Has Amanda stopped there?” he asked.
“Haven’t seen her.”
“Any idea where she could be?”
“Not a clue. Why?”
“She took Pepper out late this afternoon and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Well,” he thought a moment, concerned as much over Hank’s mood as anything. “She’s an experienced horsewoman and reasonably intelligent. She’ll find cover somewhere.”
“Yeah, probably,” he attempted to agree, except that his unsettled feeling wouldn’t go away no matter how he rationalized the possibilities. They only got worse the longer the roof on the old shed clattered noisily as the driving rain pelted the metal.
Amanda wasn’t back by eight o’clock. Not by eight-thirty, or nine—when Hank finally called Midge.
“I can’t leave here,” he said tersely, “Amanda’s missing.”
His anxiety set his girlfriend on edge. “Missing?”
“Maybe missing. Maybe pissed off. Maybe just wreaking vengeance. Who the hell knows? I can’t leave till she returns.”
“Then call Jake?”
“Why Jake?”
“Let Jake wait for her.”
He didn’t like her tone of voice, or her barking orders.
“I’m waiting until she returns, Midge. I’m afraid you’ll have to live with that.”
She didn’t want to live with that, and started to blurt out, “But I thought…” then stopped, sensing something ominous through the phone line.
“Yes, we were, and we might still,” Hank filled the gap, “but if you’re going to be a bitch about it…”
“I’m sorry,” she jumped right in, sounding less demanding, but it was hard to disguise the strain in her voice. They had plans, big plans, ones they had been anticipating for weeks. They both knew what the night would bring, and what Amanda’s disappearance meant. Another delay, poor Midge was frantic.
Nine-thirty, Amanda had still not showed. The phone rang, just as the restless cowboy was trying to snooze, and he jumped a mile to reach for the receiver.
“Any news,” Jake was on the other end.
“Not yet.”
“I’m calling Garth.”
“And what’s he supposed to do?”
“Ride out with me to find her.”
“As dark as it is, in a driving rain?”
“Yeah, as dark as it is, in a driving rain. Besides it’s letting up.”
“Not on my side of the county. But be my guest. Just call me if you find her.” He knew it was a waste of time, but then, if it had been Midge—maybe he’d have been as foolish too.
Hank cooled his heels for another hour waiting, when Birch Valley Stables was suddenly overrun by a stream of headlights and engines; two county trucks, Jake’s
Jeep and Midge’s tiny Ford pulled into the yard all at once. The rain had stopped, though the storm was still alive, thunder sounding through the valley as though it was about to strike again.
“What’s this? The posse?” He snarled at them all, leaving his most lethal looking expression for Midge. “Why are you here?”
“I thought we could wait together.”
“Well,” he frowned, “you thought wrong. Go home, Midge.”
“But…” Her expression was desperate, her heart feeling as though he’d just trampled it with his boots. She almost started to cry—a frantic plea for sympathy, but he wasn’t listening.
“Go home, Midge, before I take down your pants and paddle you here.” He pointed his finger in the direction of her car, but she still didn’t budge. Not until he boomed a deep-throated, “Now!” which set her feet flying back to her car.
Midge taken care of, he and Jake’s small entourage retreated to the stables.
“We’ve scoured all the roads between here and town.”
“She might have headed to the high country.”
“Even the Jeep won’t go in that terrain.”
The four men jawed for several minutes about what to do, when Hank finally repeated his refrain, “So we wait.”
“Hell, no, I’m riding out,” Jake said calmly, “you all can cool your heels here, but if she’s down in some culvert, I’d rather find her now as later.”
“Suit yourself,” Hank replied, “but you find her, Jake, her ass is mine.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I take her first, and you can do whatever you want to later. I gave her orders this afternoon, and she defied me without batting an eye. You think I’ll let that slide?” He shook his head and walked off.
***
Amanda Plover had ridden out just before six o’clock, with the full intention of defying Hank Devlin’s arbitrary orders. Just because it was going to rain was no reason to change her plans. She had her slicker and a change of jeans in her pack, left from her last long distance ride. When the rain began, she was near enough to an old roadhouse to stop for dinner. The rain was coming on fast, and not likely to stop, but there was just enough of a break about seven o’clock to get her going again. Thinking that she should probably just ride back to the stables, she took the familiar paths, the rain beginning to beat down on her with ever-increasing fervor. Enough of this, it might drown her miserable sorrows—she might even have been crying in the midst of this onslaught of water, but even she wouldn’t know what was tears and what was rain.
Birches, Cowgirls & Angels Page 13