Loving the Heartland

by Marjorie Jones

  But, in the end, she knew she wouldn’t back out. Something about the woman called to her and although she’d tried, she couldn’t ignore it.

  For the first time since Brad had been down with whooping cough when he was four years old, Kendra wished she didn’t have to sleep on the range tonight. But she’d promised Carlos she’d be there before sundown. She glanced at the horizon and judged the sunset about an hour away.

  

  Kendra allowed her horse to pick its own way down the rocky slope. Tired and dirty, she leaned back in the saddle. Carlos’ coffee and the plate of second-day stew she’d eaten earlier with the boys sat heavy in her stomach. She needed to check with one last cowboy before she headed back to camp for the night.

  Or maybe she’d make another round. The thought of lying about the camp with nothing to occupy her thoughts but Michelle Loving made her tense. And wet.

  A single gunshot tore the night’s silence. Kendra jerked her head in the direction of the sound even before the report disappeared into the starry, moonlit canopy. The guard she’d just passed sat on his horse a hundred yards to the east, his hand raised above his head holding his pistol. The rider spun his horse, raced in her direction and fired again.

  An instant later, the thunder of God rolled over the hillside.

  “Stampede!”

  The ground shook. Like a single entity, the herd bore down on her. Kendra’s focus turned forward and caught sight of Cran, standing beside his horse cleaning a front hoof. The man had enough sense to leap into his saddle and get out of the way. As Kendra passed, Cran fell into line not far behind her.

  Kendra spun Preakness hard to the left. The horse lurched into a dead run. She had to keep in front of the herd. Like trying to control a thunder storm with a lasso, she needed to keep the cattle’s hell-bent attention on her.

  A shot fired and she concentrated her attention on the sound. A second shot revealed a flash of light. She returned the age-old signal and location technique, which told the other riders that she had the lead position. Several more shots followed. Unable to risk turning around again, she counted the blasts. Sixteen shots, not including her own. Two shots each. Eight men. So far, everyone was accounted for.

  Nobody stops a stampeding herd. The only thing she and her men could do was to keep up; try to keep the herd from scattering in the dark and let them run themselves out. The dangers lie mostly in the ground. Preakness stretched his head low and ran like the wind. In the dark and at the speed they traveled, a prairie dog borough could land Preakness in the glue factory and Kendra in a shallow grave.

  Horns clashed, cattle screamed and the heavy rumble of hooves on abused earth surrounded her. Focusing her attention on staying in the saddle, she rode ahead of the herd.

  Over the course of the next few minutes, the single shots repeated. Eight. Nine. Ten. A pause. Eleven. Twelve. She added her own shots to the din. Thirteen. Fourteen.

  She waited for the last two shots.

  They never came.

  Damn it!

  Kendra’s heart lurched into her throat.

  Finally, the herd slowed behind her. She turned Preakness left, and then right, making a wide zig-zag pattern in front of the herd, slowing the forward momentum by small notches. No longer in the grip of the stampede, the cattle responded, coming to a halt several miles from their starting point.

  Kendra sped along the herd’s perimeter until she found Cran, breathless and pale in the moonlight.

  “Come with me,” she ordered.

  Kendra fired her pistol twice. Fourteen shots answered her. She rode the perimeter of the herd until she collected the men riding with her that night. She scanned their dirty, sweating faces. Some of them – the younger boys – were pale, having just witnessed their first stampede and finally understanding the awesome power of nature. Others, who had been through the destruction in the past, wore relieved expressions. Carlos made a sign of the cross. Each of them looked carefully at the faces of those around them.

  Kennedy Bastion was missing.

  

  Michelle sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of hot tea. Her laptop open in front of her, she scanned her e-mail. The chime from her social network account alerted her to an instant message.

  So, how’s it going?

  Michelle smiled at Lacey’s unexpected appearance and typed her reply. “Okay. Except your sister doesn’t like me very much.”

  She’s a big wuss. Just don’t let her bully you.

  “I won’t. Hey, that Mason guy came to the ranch yesterday. Your family had to run him off.”

  Oh, I would have loved to have seen that!

  “I’ll bet. It wasn’t funny. Casey and Brad saw him pull up and went straight for their guns. GUNS! Did you forget to tell me something about what’s going on? Something about livestock getting killed?”

  The window sat idle for a moment.

  No. But if things are getting out of control, come back home.

  “No. It’s okay. I’ll stick it out. Besides, I think your brothers are just boys being boys, anyway. It’s not like they were going to shoot anybody, right?”

  Right. Well, I’m off to bed now. Hey, why aren’t you in bed?

  “It’s only two a.m. I’m still on Vegas time, I guess. LOL.”

  Get some rest. I’ll talk to you soon.

  “G’nite.”

  She closed the window. The last thing she needed now was to get stuck surfing meaningless messages and cat videos for the next hour. She sipped her tea and leaned back in her chair.

  They weren’t really going to shoot anyone. Were they? The boys were just playing hero. Right?

  The front door opened and closed, followed by footsteps through the foyer. The dark shape moved through the swinging door from the hall, reached out and flipped on the light.

  Brent offered her a disarming smile. “What are you still doing up?”

  “Playing catch up from being offline all day. It’s normal for me. I’m a bit of a night owl. Did you have fun?”

  His disarming smile changed to one of Cheshire-cat satisfaction. “Oh, yes. I had a very nice time.”

  Michelle smiled. Lacey must have been serious when she described Brent as a young Hugh Hefner with boots. “Casey drove back to town and said to tell you he’d be back tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. But I ran into him at The Dollar.” Brent poured himself a tall glass of water from a pitcher in the refrigerator. He gulped it down and poured another. “Best hangover cure in the world. Water before you pass out.”

  “You drove home like this?”

  “Hell, no.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “She went straight to my place.”

  “And does she have a name?”

  “Cynthia.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I think so.”

  Michelle laughed. “I hope she has a heart of steel, cowboy.”

  “They all do.” Brent finished his second glass of water and placed the empty glass in the sink. “I’m going to bed. You should too. Dawn comes early on a ranch and if we’re going to see the rest of the spread tomorrow, we’ll be leaving at daybreak.”

  Daybreak? Again? Michelle cringed and looked at the clock in the corner of her computer screen. “Are you serious? Sheesh. I should go to bed then.”

  “Yep.” He threw her another charming smile and headed back the way he’d come in. Michelle shut down her computer, unplugged her mobile hotspot and slid it to the center of the table. She stretched and followed Brent to the foyer.

  A horse whinnied just as he opened the front door. “Hey, Kennie’s back.”

  Michelle’s heart skipped a beat, stealing her breath.

  Get a grip on yourself. She’s just a girl.

  A very lean, very butch, very good-looking girl.

  But, she hadn’t planned on seeing her again before morning, at least. The prospect of having Kendra see her in her flannel pajamas bottoms, spaghetti strap camisole and fuzzy slippers caus
ed her more chagrin than it should have. She should have brushed her hair.

  “What the hell?” Brent’s voice carried inside from the porch.

  The urgency in the sound made her take several steps forward and she leaned outside the still-open door. She followed the direction of Brent’s gaze to find Kendra riding one horse and leading another into the courtyard.

  A body draped over the second mount.

  When Kendra entered the circle of light cast by the porch light, she reigned in and dismounted. She looked terrible. Covered in dust and dirt, her face bore a haggard, tired expression. She dropped the reins and moved one hand over the length of her horse’s neck.

  “Brent? You want to call Mac for me?”

  “What happened?” Brent asked, seemingly instantly sober.

  Kendra climbed the steps and brushed past her as if she weren’t even there. Brent followed her inside and they both continued to the kitchen. Michelle looked back at the horses. The second horse shifted and turned, revealing the face of the body it carried.

  Eyes wide, the expression looked frozen in shock. Blood smeared dead-white cheeks and matted clumps of dark hair. His neck and one arm were bent at odd angles, indicating breaks even to her untrained eyes.

  Her stomach rebelled and she closed her eyes before turning her head away. What happened to him?

  She hurried to join the others in the kitchen.

  “I don’t know what set them off.” Kendra leaned against the counter and Brent sat at the table, his fingers poised to dial the old rotary phone.

  “What happened?” She asked, wrapping her arms around her stomach in response to the leftover queasiness.

  “Stampede,” Kendra replied.

  “That man was trampled?”

  Kendra’s eyes shone in her direction. Emerald fire.

  “That man’s name is Kennedy Bastion. He was twenty-three years old and he has a wife and a baby. I’ve known his father my whole life and I have to call him in a couple of minutes to tell him his son is dead. Does it really matter that he was scared out of his mind while a few hundred cows used him as a steppingstone?”

  Michelle felt the color drain from her face. “I... I didn’t mean anything...” She closed her mouth when her voice failed her. Tears stung the back of her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Kennie. Lighten up. She was only asking. This isn’t her fault.”

  Kendra glared at her, her eyes narrow and cold. “Did you get Mac, yet?”

  “They’re putting me through to his house. Hang on.”

  “Tell them to hurry up. I need to use the phone.”

  Michelle crossed to the table, picked up her cell phone and checked the battery. “Here. You can use this.”

  Kendra looked at it like she didn’t know what it was. “I’ll wait.”

  “I don’t mind. Call your friend.”

  Michelle met Kendra’s eyes, which squinted slightly as though she were trying to figure out some unsolvable puzzle. Wrinkles formed in the sun-bronzed flesh at the corners. Wrinkles ingrained from years of worrying and working in nature’s harshest elements. Had any of them come from laughter? She doubted it and for some reason that thought made her heart ache for Kendra Williams.

  “I said I’ll wait.”

  Kendra pushed off the counter and paced. She found it hard to concentrate with Michelle in the room, yet she suddenly missed having someone to share her pain with. What would happen if she allowed herself to feel for someone. A woman.

  She cast the thought aside as guilt washed over her. How could she even think about something like that when Kennedy was dead? He’d never hold his wife again. He wouldn’t see his baby son grow up. Little Kenny would never know his father. She closed her eyes and ran her hands over them to stop the tears.

  At least Kenny had had it for a little while. He had known what it was like to be loved, and what it was like to love someone back with the power of... she didn’t even know what.

  Kendra had never felt like that. Not once. In thirty-five years, she’d never been loved by a woman. For thirty-five long, empty years, she’d been completely alone.

  She was tired.

  “You can use the phone now, Kennie. Mac’s on his way.”

  She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” Brent brushed past her and placed a quick, reassuring pat on her shoulder before leaving the house.

  Kendra sat at the kitchen table and pulled the phone toward her. Michelle sat at the other end of the table, her hands folded in her lap and her head bent. Her hair, loosened from its earlier knot, spilled over her shoulders and rested on her breasts. She looked like she was trying to be invisible.

  Not happening. Kendra would notice her even if she were invisible.

  Clearing her head of the wasteful notions, she dialed Kyle Bastian’s number from memory.

  Her old friend answered on the fourth ring.

  Kendra couldn’t speak. She cleared her throat and tried again, but no sound came out. She couldn’t form the words. Her eyes misted and burned. She bent her head.

  It was all her fault. If she’d put on more crew, if she’d finished her rounds sooner, maybe she could have prevented the stampede. Kennedy died because Kendra had failed. And now, she wasn’t even strong enough to tell the boy’s father what happened...

  What was happening to her? She wasn’t weak. She’d never been weak! She loathed weakness in anything, especially herself. Michelle looked up at her and Kendra read the expression in her eyes.

  Pity.

  The one thing she hated more than weakness.

  Straightening her shoulders, she cleared her throat again. “Kyle? It’s... um... it’s Kennie Williams.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “It’s bad, Kyle. I’m sorry.”

  “Is he dead, then?”

  Kendra took a deep breath, gritted her teeth and whispered, “Yeah.”

  She listened to the mechanized sobs while trying to hold back her own. She failed. The pain laced through the phone lines and hit her like a sledgehammer. She heard mumbling for a moment, and then a woman’s scream. Margaret sounded like she was literally dying of heartbreak.

  Brent came back into the kitchen, a young woman just a step behind him. Great. Another female. She jumped to her feet and the chair crashed to the floor. Handing the phone to Brent as she passed, she headed for the door.

  She had to get some air.

  Once outside, she negotiated the steps with the same determination she used for everything else. She wiped her eyes and forced herself to stop crying. Deep breaths. Solid footing. Fists. She would not be bested by simple, unnecessary emotions.

  Kennedy’s horse shimmied away from her when she reached for the reins, but Kendra grabbed them and steadied the frightened animal. Animals could sense death. They didn’t like it any more than humans did.

  She dropped the reins and stepped on them while she untied the coarse ropes holding Kennedy’s body to the saddle. When the boy fell free, Kendra slipped him into her arms. Why did everything feel heavier when it was dead? She groaned as she half-carried, half-dragged the body to the front yard. Then she laid his remains on the soft, green grass. She hated that Kennedy’s mother or young wife would see him like this.

  Pulling her neckerchief from around her throat, she walked to the tap around the corner of the house, by the back door. She spun the gauge and soaked the bandana.

  When she returned to the front yard, Michelle knelt over Ken’s body with a washcloth in her hand. She pulled it over Kennedy’s face with tender, deliberate strokes and sniffled.

  What was she crying for? Kendra grimaced and stepped over to her. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought I’d clean him up some,” she whispered as she looked up at Kendra. Michelle’s eyes were wide and reflected the porch light like a cat’s. Wet, spiky lashes framed the deep blue pools. She had been crying. “Is that all right?”

  No. You’re not a part of this. You don’
t belong here. I don’t care how beautiful you are, or how badly I want you to hold me right now. Leave me alone. Go back where you came from. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. “Yeah. That’s fine. Thanks.”

  By the time they finished cleaning Kennedy’s face, neck and hands, Mac’s police car sped up the driveway. The lights in the grill and dash flashed red and blue as his brakes squealed to a halt. Mac heaved his huge frame from the front passenger seat and rested his eyes on Kennedy’s lifeless body. He took a step forward and put his hands in his pockets.

  “You called his dad?”

  Chapter Six

  “Yeah. I called him.”

  Over the next few hours, the yard buzzed with activity. Kendra leaned against the corral and ran a hand over her face. Dawn illuminated the horizon with a halo of pink and yellow, turning what few clouds threatened in the distance to a bright gold. She focused her eyes on the mystical band of blue between earth and sky; day and night.

  Behind her, the ambulance crew placed Kennedy’s body on a gurney and slid him into the back of the county-owned vehicle. Quiet voices trailed toward her on the morning breeze.

  Someone leaned against the fence next to her. She looked over to find a deputy named Brian Whitlock. He’d gone to school with the twins. He was a decent enough kid, but still green around the gills.

  “We’re taking him now. Sorry it took so long to get the coroner here.”

  “Where was he?”

  “With his girlfriend,” answered Brian with a sheepish grin. He practically blushed. “When we called his house, his wife said he was working. I could have gone my whole life without having that conversation.”

  “I’ll bet.” Kendra turned her eyes forward and watched the sun climb over the hillside. “How’re they doing?”

  “His dad’s hanging in there, but his wife and mom are still pretty messed up. That lady friend of yours staying with you took them inside.”

  Kendra felt her heart grip in her chest. Lady friend?

  She hated to admit it, but Michelle had been a huge help through the whole ordeal. When Margaret Bastian had first arrived and seen her son, lying on the ground, beaten and bloody, she’d lost it. Michelle might as well have been the only female around. Kendra had no idea how to handle a distraught woman. But Michelle did. Michelle had held the older woman as she’d cried out every last tear. When Kenny’s wife had shown up a few minutes later, Michelle had done it all over again. Then, she’d left Linda and her mother-in-law alone to console each other, silently slipping away until she was needed again. Kendra couldn’t help but notice her, hovering on the outside of everything as if she wanted to be there in case she was needed, but not wanting to intrude if she wasn’t.