Jessica Keller - Home for Good

Chance plunked down his mug. “Sounds like you were more than neighbors, ’cause I don’t know things like that about old Mr. Edgar, and he’s lived right across the field my whole life.”

Jericho shifted to meet her gaze. He raised his eyebrows.

She let out a long stream of air. “We used to be friends, Chance, that’s all.”

Chance tapped his chin. “Does that mean you’re not friends anymore?”

Jericho kept staring at her. His intensity bored into her soul, and she looked down.

“Jericho’s been gone a long time.”

She wandered down the steps and into the yard. Their pointer, Drover, trailed after her. She scratched behind his ears, causing his leg to thump against the ground in doggy-bliss.

That had been a close call. Too close. But it’s not like she could kick the man out right after that conversation. Doing so would only raise Chance’s suspicion.

The low rumble of Jericho’s voice carried as he launched into a story detailing an adventure from his days in the army. “We had to go in helicopters, only way to get there. We could hardly see through all the sand swirling around and—”

“So it was like a beach?” Chance peppered Jericho’s monologue with a constant stream of questions.

“Naw. Beaches are nice. This was a desert. Hot. It’d be about one hundred twenty degrees, and we’d have to lug around seventy pounds of equipment on our backs without an ocean to cool off in. Ants all over our food. Not too much fun.”

Ali coughed. “I think it’s about bedtime.”

“No way. C’mon, Mom. One more story.”

Jericho laid a hand on her son’s head. “Don’t argue with your mom, bud. Go on up. You’ll see me again. Promise.”

With a loud groan, Chance shuffled into the house.

A pace away from her, Jericho rose to his feet, his masculine frame outlined by the light flooding from the house.

She crossed her arms. “I can pay you back.”

He stepped closer. “I promised to protect you, remember? I made that pact, and I aim to keep it for the rest of my life. You owe me nothing.”

She bit her lip.

He tipped his hat. “Sleep tight, Ali.” Then he brushed past her and strolled, hands hooked in his pockets, into the hay field back toward his pa’s place.

* * *

Sweat trickled down Ali’s neck as she lugged the last saddle onto its peg in the barn. The triangular posts drilled into the wall were genius. Much better than tipping the saddles on their sides and storing them on the ground like they had been doing. She made a mental note to thank Rider.

Ali placed her hands on her hips as her mind ticked over the accounting books for Big Sky Dreams. She’d never been great at balancing the ledgers, but even Ali could see that money was missing. But how?

Megan Galveen, the other riding instructor for Big Sky Dreams, sashayed through the back door in black designer jeans.

Ali smiled at her. “You’re a lifesaver. Thanks for taking care of Salsa when he started misbehaving. I don’t know what made the horse so skittish today. I know you’ve only been here a month, but have I told you how thankful I am for your help?”

Megan pouted her full, over-red lips and closed one eye, tapping her sunglasses to her chin. “Oh, only about every day. But please, do go on.”

Ali laughed. “Well, enjoy your afternoon off. You know you’re welcome at Chance’s birthday party, right?”

Her coworker flipped her long, glossy black hair. “A party for seven-year-olds isn’t really my thing.”

“No, I guess not.”

Why had Ali even asked her? The woman was more suited in looks to walk down runways than teach handicapped kids about horses.

Ali glanced down at her own mud-caked boots and dirty jeans. She grimaced. Maybe she ought to spend more time on her looks. She ran a hand over her flipped-out, short red hair. Yeah, right. She worked in hay and horse manure all day, and the only kisses bestowed on her came complete with animal cracker crumbs.

Someone cleared their throat, interrupting Ali’s train of thought. She looked up to find her head ranch hand, Rider Longley. The man looked like his name—taller than he ought to be and scrawnier than a cornstalk. With his junked-up Levis, scuffed boots, a blue shirt with white buttons and a new brown hat, he looked the part. But he would have been just as comfortable in a cubicle, wearing khakis while programming laptops. He lacked the cowboy snarl in his face, but he made up for his failings with heart and determination.

He looped a rope over his shoulder. “Someone’s been out messing with the fences in the heifer field again. I figure it’ll take most of the day to round them up off Edgar’s property and mend the cuts.”

Ali’s heart stopped. “What do you mean, messing with the fences?”

Rider adjusted his hat. “I’m not an expert on these sorts of things, but how the slices are, looks to me like someone snipped through our fences with wire cutters. Cows can cause damage, but not clean breaks like I’m finding.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Megan plunked down her suitcase-sized purse and pawed inside until she fished out her lip gloss. “Who would want to mess with Big Sky Dreams?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged. “I’m not a detective. Just know what I see.”

* * *

Pulling off her hat, Ali swiped a hand over her forehead. Now that Rider and Megan were gone, her thoughts swirled. The threatening note, slashed tires, money missing from the Big Sky Dreams account and now the fences—what was she going to do?

“I brought this for you.” Kate came beside her, handing over a chilled water bottle.

Ali held the bottle to her neck, then to her cheek. “Feels good. It’s really a scorcher out here today. I hope the old air conditioner in the house holds together for Chance’s party.”

“It’ll be fine. If it busts again, those kids won’t care.”

Ali stepped forward so she stood in the barn entrance. The wind ruffled through the valley, kicking up the smell of the nearby river and drying the sweat from her body.

“How’d lessons go today?”

She unscrewed the bottle cap and took a long swig, catching dribbles on her chin with the back of her hand. Ali loved nothing more than talking about her handicapped horseback-riding program. “Good. Alan’s coming along great. The movement’s strengthening his core and helping build some muscle tone.” It felt good to know that something she’d started made a difference. “Rebecca’s parents told me that her test scores have improved since joining the program last month. Can you believe that?”

Kate squeezed her arm. “That’s awesome, Al. How about those two?” She jutted her chin toward the sprawling side yard, near the practice corral where Ali usually ran her horse, Denny, through the barrels. Today two boys practiced their cattle roping. Ali gripped the barn wall. Well, if the broad shoulders and popping biceps of Jericho Freed could be classified as a boy. Okay. Man and boy.

Ali let herself breathe for a moment before answering. “I don’t know what to think. First he takes care of my truck, then this morning he shows up on the doorstep with a rope in hand, asking for Chance. What was I supposed to say?”

“I think you did the right thing, Al, by letting him spend time with his son.”

“But that terrifies me.”

“What? Him being here? Or him with Chance?”

“With Chance. Both. I don’t know.”

“What did he say when you two talked after the firework show?”

Ali crossed her arms, propping her shoulder against the barn. “He said he wants forgiveness. He said he wants to repair our...marriage.” A gritty lump formed in her throat as she watched Chance loop the rope over the fake horns and give a loud whoop. He clapped victorious hands with Jericho, whose deep laugh drifted across the yard. A person would have to be blind not to see the resemblance. They had the same eyes, same unruly hair, same slight swagger in their walk, same full-chested laugh. Ali rubbed at her throat.