Cliff reached for the cookies. “Yep.”
“How about you, Jesse?” Clarence motioned toward the plate.
Out of courtesy Jesse accepted the dessert, taking a bite. He liked the mildly sweet flavor of the old-fashioned cookie. “These are good.”
“Course they are,” Clarence said. “Loraine makes the best oatmeal cookies in the county. And if you don’t believe me, just ask her.”
“Oh, Clarence, you old goof.” The smiling little woman flapped a hand at him. “Jesse, don’t pay any mind to my husband. This isn’t my recipe and he knows it. Lindsey’s grandma gave it to me. Now that woman could cook.”
Blood quickening, Jesse saw the opportunity and took it. “You knew Lindsey’s grandparents?”
“Sure did. Better folks never walked the earth, as far as I’m concerned.” She paused long enough to dole out more cookies to passers-by. Jesse kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to go on, blood humming with the hope that he was about to learn something.
“Betty Jean—that was her grandma—could do about anything domestic. A country version of Martha Stewart, I guess you’d say.” She chuckled softly at her own joke. “And she wasn’t stingy about it either. Would share a jar of pickles or a recipe without batting an eye. A fine neighbor, she was. A real fine neighbor.”
She looked a little sad and Jesse shifted uncomfortably. He needed to keep Loraine and Clarence talking but he didn’t want to think of the Mitchells as decent folks. There was nothing decent about stealing from an orphan.
Keeping his tone casual, Jesse said, “Lindsey’s a good cook too.”
“Betty Jean would have made sure of that.” Loraine thrust the nearly empty plate toward him. “Another cookie?”
“Might as well take one, Jesse,” Clarence put in with a chortle. “She ain’t happy unless she’s feeding someone.”
Jesse hid a smile. It was hard not to like Loraine and Clarence Stone. “Thanks.”
He accepted the cookie, mind searching for a way to gain more information. He’d suffered through an hour of stilted conversation to get this far. He wasn’t about to let this chance slip away.
“What about Lindsey’s grandpa? I guess he’s the one who taught her to use that rifle….”
“Yep,” Clarence said. “That was Charlie, all right. Me and him used to hunt and fish together, and he liked to brag about Lindsey’s shooting. Called her his little Annie Oakley.”
Jesse’s stomach leaped.
Charlie.
His patience had paid off. At last, he had someone to blame along with his stepfather. Lindsey’s grandfather, the man who’d stolen this eighty-acre farm from a teenage boy, was named Charlie Mitchell.
In the shadowy distance, snatches of conversation and laughter floated on the night air. One particular laugh—a throaty, warm sound that sent shivers down his spine—stood out from the rest.
Lindsey.
He wanted to put his hands over his ears, to block out the sound. He’d finally discovered some information, and nobody, no matter how sweet and kind, was going to stop him from using it.
Chapter Five
Lindsey draped her jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and went to the sink. She’d had a long afternoon without Jesse there to help, but she couldn’t complain. In the weeks he’d worked on the farm, this was the first time he’d asked for time off. So she had spent the afternoon marking the trees they’d soon cut and bale for delivery.
Ever since the night of the cookout, she’d noticed a shift in him. He worked harder than ever on the farm, putting in long hours and cutting himself no slack. But he seemed to be bothered by something—not that there was anything new about that—but this was a subtle mulling as though he had something heavy on his mind.
With a sigh, Lindsey acknowledged how much she’d come to depend upon the mysterious Jesse. She needed him, and regardless of his inner demons, she liked him. He was a good man with a heavy burden. If only she could find a way to help him past that burden—whatever it was.
Two or three times today she’d turned to ask Jesse’s advice about something before remembering he was gone. Funny how she’d never needed anyone before other than Sushi and the Lord, but Jesse had changed all that. And she wasn’t sure becoming dependent on her hired hand was such a good idea.
Turning the water tap, she filled a glass and drank deeply, thirsty even though the early November weather was cloudy and cool with the promise of rain hanging like a gray veil over the land. In the back of her mind, she faintly registered a rumbling in the distance but paid little mind. After washing and drying her hands, she headed to the refrigerator.
She had one hand on last night’s chicken and rice when the screaming began.
An adrenaline rush more powerful than an electric shock propelled her into action. Faster than she thought possible, Lindsey bounded into the bedroom, unlocked the gun case, removed her rifle and rushed out into the yard, loading the weapon as she moved. An occasional mountain lion roamed these hills.
Peering in the direction of the screams, Lindsey stopped…and lowered the gun.
Jade stood halfway down the gravel driveway, frozen in fear, screaming her head off. Directly in front of her, Sushi lay on her back, feet in the air, groveling for all she was worth.
With a feeling somewhere between relief and exasperation, Lindsey stashed the rifle on the porch and loped down the driveway.
What was Jade doing here? Where was Jesse? And when would the child realize that Sushi was her friend?
“Sushi, come,” she called. The German shepherd leaped to her feet, shook off the dust and leaves and trotted to Lindsey’s side. Pointing to a spot several yards away from the terrified child, she commanded, “Stay.”
The dog obeyed, plopping her bottom onto the dirt, tongue lolling, while she watched Jade with worried eyes.
Jade’s screaming subsided, but the harsh sobs continued as Lindsey went down on her knees and took the little girl into her arms. She had a dozen questions, but now was not the time to ask them. Soon enough she could discover why Jesse had not picked up Jade at school as he’d planned.
“Jade, listen to me.” Pushing the tangled hair, damp with tears, back from Jade’s face she said gently, “Stop crying and listen. We need to talk like big girls.”
Jade gave several shuddering sobs, scrubbing at her eyes with her fingertips. “The dog was going to get me.”
“That’s what we have to talk about. Sushi will not hurt you. Look at her. She’s sitting down there begging for you to like her, but she won’t even come near you unless I tell her to.”
“She ran at me. I saw her teeth.”
“She was smiling at you. You’re part of her family now and she was excited to see you. That’s how she behaves when I come home from someplace, too.”
“It is?” Wary and unconvinced, Jade glanced from Lindsey to Sushi and back again.
“Sure. Every time you come home, she whines to be let out so she can play with you. It makes her very sad that you don’t like her.”
Jade’s expression said she was thinking that over, but still she clung tightly to Lindsey.
“Where’s my daddy?”
“I’m not sure, sweetie. He was supposed to pick you up at school.”
The little girl’s small shoulders slumped. “He’s probably dead.”