She took the pass up over the mountains. Out the passenger window Stone Hollow glowed in the darkness, the lights in the kitchen casting golden light. “Me neither,” she whispered.
Whatever help Jeremiah needed he’d made it obvious he wasn’t going to take it from her.
“I’m leaving,” Reese said. “My car’s fixed on Monday, and I’m gone. I never should have come.”
“You’re a friend Reese. I imagine Jeremiah needs friends.”
“I don’t know how to help, Lucy. I don’t know how to be his friend like this. I’m for good times and drinking and picking up women. It sucks to feel like this.”
She pulled to a stop at the front door, hoping that Jeremiah wouldn’t come out and Reese dug his wallet out of his back pocket. “A hundred bucks?”
Gouging the cowboy didn’t seem quite so enticing after talking to him, so she shook her head. “Don’t worry—”
“Here.” He handed her a fresh hundred dollar bill. Benjamin Franklin stared up at her as if he didn’t recognize her, which seemed about right. It had been a while since they’d seen each other. “I have to go pick up my car on Monday morning. Can I hire you to drive me? Jeremiah would do it, but he’s so damn busy.”
“Ahhh...sure.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Then he was gone, and she was a hundred dollars richer.
This is ridiculous, she thought. A taxi? What nonsense.
But that was a hundred dollars in her pocket. Honest to God, the only money she had right now. And not every ride would be a hundred bucks. But let’s say you charge twenty bucks.
How much would she make in a Friday night?
In a weekend?
She couldn’t afford to be a snob about this. Couldn’t afford to put her nose in the air over the chance to actually earn money, to create a cushion for her next move.
It would be irresponsible to reject this opportunity.
Picking up her cell phone she scrolled through the recent numbers until she found Joey’s.
“I’m in business,” she told him when he answered. “Twenty bucks flat fee.”
“That’s steep for around here.”
“Yeah, well—” She pinched her nose. “A girl’s got to make a living.”
He told her he’d be in touch and she hung up, tossing her phone onto the passenger seat.
She rolled down the driver’s side window, laughing, letting the breeze dry the tears she didn’t want to cry.
6
Jeremiah had developed a world-class sixth sense while sitting on top of a hundred bulls determined to break his bones. On the circuit he’d been known for his instincts and reckless courage. One rodeo writer said it was as if he could read the bull’s mind.
In more than a thousand interviews over the years he’d almost always given the same answer—“I go with what my gut tells me. And my gut is rarely wrong.”
But his gut, faced with the closed front door of the Rocky M ranch house, was silent. Totally silent.
“Uncle J?” Casey whispered up at him. “What are we doing here?”
“I’m not sure yet,” he said truthfully. And Casey nodded as if he understood the implications of knocking on the front door. Jeremiah could be making the biggest mistake in the world right now, all because his gut wouldn’t tell him what to do.
“I’m hungry.”
He stared down a Casey who’d woken up this morning in bottomless pit mode.
“You had a big breakfast.” Sunday morning breakfast, too. Pancakes and eggs.
Casey shrugged. “My stomach is still hungry.”
It was Sunday afternoon, and the kid was probably about to grow another foot or something by tomorrow night. Growth spurts with three boys in the house were dangerous times. Especially if you were a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
He scratched his head, just under the edge of his hat, where the sweat collected and made him crazy. God, maybe he should just bury this stupid idea. It would be easier to simply take Casey back home, make sure Ben and Aaron were cleaning up like they were supposed to. Make sure Reese was packing and not drinking before his drive home tomorrow.
But if he left now he’d be heading home for more of the same, and the same just wasn’t working anymore.
You don’t have to do this alone, Dr. Gilman had said. It’s not a failure or betrayal to take help when it’s offered. I also think not always being the bad guy with Ben might give both of you a break.
Fine, he thought and pounded on the door. If his gut was silent he’d go with Dr. Gilman.
Sandra Alatore opened the door, wiping her hands on a cloth thrown over her shoulder.
“Well, hello, Jeremiah,” she said, in her sweet, accented voice. It could have been twenty years ago for all she’d changed.
“Hi Sandra, it’s good to see you again. This old ranch looks much better with you in it.”
“Listen to you.” She laughed. “Still too charming for your own good. And who is this?”