Brenda Minton - The Cowboy Next Door & Jenna's Cowboy Hero - The Cowboy Next Door / Jenna's Cowboy Hero

“Okay. We can look.” But he didn’t believe it. Lacey didn’t know why that hurt, but it did. Because it felt like he didn’t believe her, or trust her. She was an extension of Corry, because they had come from the same place.

She walked into the house and he followed, slower, taking more time. “I knew I should have made her go to church.”

“You can’t force someone.”

“I know, but if I had, she’d be here and Rachel would be safe.”

Lacey wouldn’t feel so frantic, like some unseen clock was ticking, telling her she was nearly out of time. And she didn’t know why, or what would happen when the time ran out.

“Lacey.” He stood in front of the desk where she kept her bills and other paperwork. “You know she has a record, right?”

Lacey turned, and he was watching her, pretending it was a normal question. “I do know.”

She wanted to ask him if he knew that she had a record. Did he know what she had done to put food on the table, to pay the rent to keep the roof over her younger siblings’ heads? She looked away, because she didn’t really want answers to those questions from him.

It was too much information, and it would let him too far into her life, and leave her open to whatever look might be in his eyes.

It might be too much like the look in Lance’s eyes when he’d said he could love her no matter what. With Jay it was different; they hadn’t stepped into each other’s lives that way. He just happened to be here with her now.

“Lacey, do you know who she’s been in contact with?”

“No.” She stood in the doorway of Corry’s room. The bedding was flung across the bed and dragged on the floor, and a few odds and ends of clothing were still scattered about.

Jay walked into the room, an envelope in his hand.

“She’s gone. This was on the table.” He handed her an envelope.

Lacey’s fingers trembled as she took it from him. She ripped it and tore the paper out. Eyes watering, she read the scribbled lines, trying to make sense of misspelled words and her sister’s childlike handwriting. But she got it. She crumpled the note in her hand. She got it.

“She’s gone.” She held out the note and Jay took it from her hand.

“Let’s take a drive and see if we can find her. She couldn’t have gotten far.”

Optimism. Lacey had worked hard on being an optimist. She had worked hard on finding faith in hard times. She didn’t know what to think about Corry leaving with the baby.

She glanced at her watch. “Jay, if they left right after I left, they could be back in St. Louis by now.”

He inhaled and let it out in a sigh. “That’s true. Let’s go inside and we’ll see if she left anything behind.”

“We should call the police.”

Dark brows lifted and he sort of smiled at her. “Lacey, I am the police. And unless she’s committed a crime, there’s no reason for going after her. She’s a grown woman who left your house with her own child.”

“But she can’t take care of Rachel. She can barely take care of herself.”

“She’s an adult.”

“An adult who reads and writes at a first-grade level.” Lacey looked away from his compassion, his sympathy.

“Can she take care of Rachel?”

Lacey walked through the dark, cool interior of the house, her house. She kept her eyes down, thinking of what to do next. She couldn’t face the empty bassinet or thoughts of Rachel with Corry.

“She can, but I don’t know if she can keep her safe.” Lacey spoke softly, because if she said it too loudly, would it seem harsh? “My mother and Corry make a lot of bad decisions.”

“We could hotline her with family services and maybe they could intervene on behalf of the baby.” Jay walked through the kitchen. He stopped at the canisters.

“What do you keep in these?”

“Sugar, flour, coffee. Normal stuff. Why?”

“This one is empty and the lid was next to it.” He lifted the smallest canister.

The air left her lungs and the room felt too hot, and then too cold. Never in a million years would she have thought…

But then again, she should have. Because she knew Corry, knew what she was capable of. She was capable of stealing from her own family.

“It wasn’t coffee?” He set the canister down and replaced the lid. “Money?”

Her chest ached and her throat tightened. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t be the person he pitied. She had survived worse than this, and she would survive again.

“You aren’t stupid.”

“I should have put it in the bank.” She shook her head, looking away from Jay so she wouldn’t see his compassion and he couldn’t see her tears. “I put my tip money in there, and lived on my hourly wages. It was for land.”

“For land?” Soft and tender, his voice soothed. He took a few steps in her direction, and she wanted to rely on the strong arms of a cowboy to hold her and tell her everything would be okay.

He wasn’t offering, and she knew better.

“Yes, for land. I want a place of my own.” Dreams, snatched away. “But I can start over, right? It isn’t the end of the world.”

“No.” He stood in front of her now, tall and cowboy, with eyes that seemed to understand. “It isn’t the end of the world, but it probably feels like it is.”

“It feels more like I might never see my niece again. Rachel is more important than land. I don’t want that baby to live the life we lived in St. Louis. I want her to have a real family and real chances.”

“She’ll be okay with her mother.”

“No, she won’t. Jay, you don’t get it. You’ve lived here all your life, in a cocoon that sheltered you from the outside world. You don’t know what it’s like to always worry about who’s walking through the front door and what they’re going to do to you.”

The words spilled out and so did the tears, coursing down her cheeks, salty on her lips. She brushed them away with her hand and shook her head when he tried to hold her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered, staring at the floor because she couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I don’t want to be someone you feel sorry for. I’d much rather you resent me for being here.”

“I don’t resent you.”

She smiled then and wiped at her eyes. “You do, but it’s nice of you to say you don’t. Look, I’m fine. I survived and I have a great life here. And if you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to make me cry again. I don’t want to cry anymore.”

“We’ll find Rachel.” He made it sound like a promise she could believe. She’d been promised a lot in her life.

“I hope so.”

“Lacey, growing up in Gibson doesn’t guarantee anything.” He walked to the door. “Let’s see if we can find your sister and the baby. At least now we have a reason to call the police.”

The stolen money. Lacey picked up her purse and followed him out the door, still hurting over what Corry had done, and ashamed because she knew that life held no guarantees for anyone.

Not even for Jay Blackhorse.

Jay cruised past the church on Tuesday afternoon. He’d been past a couple of other times, and each time, Lacey’s car had been parked out front. It was still parked out front. Maybe she’d heard from her sister.

Probably not. He didn’t expect Corry to suddenly have a conscience and feel guilty for what she’d done to Lacey. He pulled into the church parking lot and parked. But he didn’t get out.

Instead, he questioned why he was there. He asked God, but didn’t hear a clear answer. It felt a lot like getting involved in Lacey’s life, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want involved, he didn’t want tangled up. He didn’t want to understand her life in St. Louis and what she’d done there.