House On Windridge (13 page)

“I can well imagine.”

“Anyway, Gus never knew. He probably figured Devon saw the merit of the property because it adjoined the land Gus had already given Devon.”

Jessica wouldn't have thought it possible that she could love Devon more than she already did, but hearing of his generosity and giving to a woman who hated him made her realize how deeply she admired and loved Devon Carter.

“This changes everything,” Jessica murmured, wishing silently that there
might be a way to win Devon away from the woman he knew God had in
tended him to marry.
Perhaps that is the reason for his delay,
she thought for the first time.
Maybe he's gotten himself married.

“Not really,” Kate replied, interrupting Jessica's thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Jessica asked.

“You love him, and he loves you.”

She shook her head sadly. “No, he told me there was someone he cared for. Someone God had chosen for him to marry.”

Kate started laughing. “Silly woman, he meant you. He told Buck as
much.”

“What?” Jessica felt her chest tighten and her breathing quicken. “Are you telling me the truth?”

“I thought we'd already established that I've never lied to you. Do you think I'd start now?”

“No, but, I mean—” A wonderful rush of excitement flowed over Jessica. “He loves me?”

Kate laughed even more. “It's pretty obvious to everyone but you two that you're perfect for each other. You need each other in a bigger way than any two people I've ever seen. Whether you go back to regular ranching or run a resort, you'll do fine so long as you do it together.”

“He loves me,” Jessica repeated. “And he loves Ryan.” She looked up at Kate and saw the happiness in the older woman's eyes. There was no doubting the words she spoke. Devon loved her.

Chapter 10

L
ooks like it's gonna blow up a snow,” Buck said, coming into the house. “I don't like the taste of the air. Wouldn't be surprised to see it shape up to be a bad one.”

“Are we prepared for such a thing?” Kate asked.

“I'm having the boys bring up wood from the shed. We'll stack it high against the back of the house. That way, if we have a blizzard like the one the year Jessie was born, we won't have far to go for fuel.”

“What about the hands?” Jessica asked, easily realizing the seriousness of the moment.

“They usually ride the storms out in the bunkhouse. We run a rope
from there to the barns, and that way, they can keep an eye on the horses and milk cows.”

Jessica nodded. “If it gets too bad, let's bring them up to the house. Better to use fuel to heat one place than two.”

Buck and Kate exchanged a quick glance and smiled approvingly. “You sound more like your father each day,” Kate told her.

Jessica laughed. “I would have thought that an insult at one time. Now, I take it as the compliment you intend it to be.”

“I'll bring up extra fuel for the lanterns, and if you ladies think of anything else we need, you let me know,” Buck said, heading back for the door. He opened it and looked outside. “Snow's already started,” he announced.

“Then we'd best get busy,” Kate told Jessica.

Ryan came into the kitchen about that time. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes appeared rather glassy. Jessica immediately realized he'd been unusually quiet that morning. Picking up her son, Jessica could feel the heat radiating from his tiny body.

“Ryan's sick,” she told Kate. “He has a fever.”

Kate came to Jessica and held out her arms, but Jessica felt all her feelings of overprotection and inadequacy surface. “I'll take care of him,” she said more harshly than she'd intended.

Kate nodded as if understanding. “I only wanted to see how high his fever was.”

“You can tell by a touch?” Jessica asked, still clinging tightly to Ryan.

“You can when you've dealt with as many sick boys as I have. Remember, I've nursed the bunk hands, my own sons, Gus and Buck, even Devon. You get a feel for it after a time.” Kate put her hand to Ryan's head. “Feels pretty high. We'd best get him to bed and see what we can do to bring that fever down. Do you see any rashes on his body?”

“Rashes?” Jessica asked in a panicky voice.

Kate nodded. “I heard some of the Newcome kids were down with the
measles.”

“Measles!” Jessica's voice squeaked out the word. “He just can't have
measles.”

“Well, only time will tell. Let's get him to bed, and we'll work on it from there. Why don't you put him in the bed in our room? That way you won't have to run up and down the stairs all the time, and it'll be warmer here by the kitchen. If you like, you can sleep there, and Buck and I will take one of the upstairs rooms.”

“Thanks, Kate.” Jessica looked down at Ryan, who had put his head on her shoulder. It was so uncharacteristic of the boy that Jessica thought she might start to cry. She bit her lower lip and, knowing nothing else to do, began to pray.

❧

The blizzard blew in with the full force Buck had expected and then some. Icy pellets of rain came first, coating everything with a thick layer of ice. Then sleetlike snow stormed across the hills, and visibility became impossible.

Jessica thought very little about the storm, except to occasionally worry about Devon. She had far too much with which to concern herself by keeping on top of Ryan's needs and easily relegated everything else to Buck and Kate.

By the second day of the storm, Ryan bore the telltale signs of measles. Tiny red splotchy dots covered his stomach and groin, and his fever refused to abate. Jessica found herself so weary she could hardly keep her eyes open, yet when Kate offered to relieve her, Jessica refused.

“You aren't doing yourself or Ryan any good,” Kate told her. “I don't know why you can't see the sense in letting others help you.” Kate's tone revealed the offense she took at Jessica's actions.

“I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It's just that. . . well.
. .he's mine, and it's my responsibility to see him through this.”

“But if you kill yourself trying to nurse him back to health, what good will
it do? I swear, the way you act, you'd think I was trying to steal your glory.”

“What?” Jessica questioned, struggling to clear the cobwebs from her sleepy mind. “What glory is there in a sick child?”

“None that I know of,” Kate replied. “But you seem to think there's some reason to keep anyone else from getting too close to that boy.”

Jessica slumped into a chair and nodded. “I just can't lose him. He's so important to me. I don't want to lose him to you or Devon or sickness.”

“Why would you lose him to anyone? Ryan knows you're his mother, and he loves you. Well, as much as any two year old can love. Jessica,” Kate said, reaching out to touch the younger woman's shoulder, “you've been like a daughter to me. I always wanted to have a daughter, and I would have happily raised you for Gus. Let me offer you a bit of motherly advice.”

Jessica looked up and nodded.

“Don't let fear be the glue that binds your relationship with Ryan. Fear is a poor substitute for love.”

“But you know about the past. You know what Essie did when I lived in New York.”

“Yes, but I don't see Essie around here. It's just you and me, and I'm not about to steal your child away from you. Don't you see, Jessica? The more you smother Ryan with protectiveness and isolate him from being able to love anyone but you, the more hollow and useless your relationship. He'll run the first chance he gets, just to give himself some breathing room.”

“I know you're right. God's been working on this very issue with me. I guess I just let fear control me sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Kate questioned with a grin.

“All right, so fear and I are no strangers,” Jessica said, smiling. “Kate, would you please watch Ryan while I get some sleep?”

Kate nodded and patted Jessica once again. “I would be happy to help.”

Jessica nodded, made her way to the bed, and fell across it, not even bothering to undress.

Father
, she prayed,
please heal my son. You know how much I love him and how lost I would be without him. I'm begging You not to take him from me
.

She felt welcome drowsiness engulf her. Devon's face came to mind and, with it, the thought that she needed to pray for him.
Watch over him, Father,
she added.
Please bring him home to Windridge
.

The snow let up, but not the wind, which kept the effects of the blizzard going on for days. The blowing snow blinded them from even seeing the top of Windridge. Jessica saw notable improvements in Ryan's health and forced herself to accept Kate's involvement in nursing him. It wasn't that she didn't dearly love Kate, but the fact was, Jessica still needed to let go of her possessive nature when it came to the boy.

Sitting at her father's desk in the library, Jessica thought back on the things Devon, Kate, and Buck had told her over the course of her time at Windridge.

“Folks need folks out here,” Buck had once said. “It fast becomes a matter of survival.” His point had been made in talking to her about selling property to Joe Riley. He needed a spring in order to assure himself of having water for his cattle and his land. Jessica could easily see that what Buck said made perfect sense. They were so isolated out here in the middle of the Flinthills that to be anything other than neighborly could prove fatal.

She stared into the fireplace and watched the flames lick greedily at the dry wood. Kate had said, “It's better to rely on folks than to die on folks.” This was kind of an unspoken code of Kate's. “The prairie is no place for pride,” Kate had added. “Pride not only goeth before destruction, it is the thing that stirs up strife and causes heartache.”

Jessica knew it was true. Her own pride had nearly caused her to alienate Kate's affections. That was something she could never have abided. Kate was like a mother to her in so many ways that Aunt Harriet had never been. Aunt Harriet had raised her, but Aunt Harriet had never loved her the way Kate did.

Devon came to mind when Jessica thought about love. She loved him so much that it hurt to think about what tragedies might have befallen him. She planned to have Buck go into town and wire the livestock yards in Kansas City. They
would have records of the cattle transactions and just possi
bly those records would include the name of the hotel where Devon was staying. It was Jessica's hope that they might learn something about Devon's whereabouts by starting down this path.

But the blizzard had put an end to that thought, and Buck felt certain more snow was coming their way. She felt her enthusiasm slip another notch. Life on the prairie was very hard—there could be no doubt about that—and it was quickly becoming apparent that Jessica could either accept that she could do nothing on her own, or she could perish.

“Don't be so sure you don't need anyone,” Devon had told her once. It had startled her to have him read her so easily. She smiled when she thought of the halfhearted protest she'd offered him. She could still see the laughter in his eyes and the amusement in his voice when she'd told him he didn't know anything about her feelings.

“I may not know you or your feelings,” he'd countered, “but I know pride when I see it. Pride used to be a bosom companion of mine, so I feel pretty certain when I see him. Just remember, pride isn't the kind to stick around and help when matters get tough.”

Jessica chuckled at the memory.
He's so right,
she thought.
Pride only offers seclusion and a false sense of security. I have to let go of my pride and allow people to help me when I need it and to help others when they have needs. Otherwise, Ryan and I will never survive life at Windridge.

❧

“It's been two weeks,” Devon heard someone say. His mind was lost in a haze of darkness, but from time to time someone spoke words that made a
little sense. He strained to understand the words—fought to find the source of
the words.

“His vital signs are good, but the fact that he's still not regained consciousness worries me.”

“Any word on the man's identity?” came another male voice.

“None. We really should send someone around to contact the businesses in the area where he was found.”

Devon floated on air and wondered why everyone seemed so concerned. Who was this person they couldn't identify, and what were vital signs?

“His injuries were extensive,” the man continued, “but the bones seem to be healing just fine, and the swelling has gone down in his face. It's probably that blow to the back of the head that keeps him unconscious.”

From somewhere in his thoughts, Devon began to realize they were talking about him. It startled him at first, but then it seemed quite logical. The next realization he had was of being in extreme pain. Something wasn't right. Somewhere in his body, someone was causing him a great deal of torment.

These thoughts came and went from time to time, but to Devon they seemed to transpire in the course of just a few hours. It wasn't until he heard one of the disembodied voices announce that if he didn't regain consciousness soon, he would die, that Devon began a long hard fight to find his way through the mire of blackness.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?” someone questioned.

“A very nice one, Sir,” came the feminine voice in response.

Devon thought for a moment the voice belonged to someone he knew, but the thought was so fleeting that he couldn't force it to stay long enough to interpret it.

“The New Year's ball was superb,” the woman continued. “I'd never been to anything so lovely.”

“Yes, my wife loves the occasion. Of course, it's also her birthday,” the man responded.

Birthday. Devon thought about the word for a moment. Someone he knew had a birthday on New Year's Eve. Without realizing what he was doing, Devon opened his eyes and said, “Birthday.”

His eyes refused to focus for several minutes, but when they did, Devon could see the startled faces of the man and woman who stood at his bedside.

“So, you finally decided to join the world of the living,” the man said in a stern voice that was clearly mingled with excitement.

“Where am I?” Devon asked, his voice gravelly.

“You're in the hospital. Have been for nearly a month,” the man replied. “I'm Dr. Casper, and you are?”

He waited for Devon's response with a look of anticipation. The woman too looked down at him in an expectant manner. Devon stared blankly at them, trading glances first with the woman and then with the man.

“Did you understand my question?” the doctor asked. “I need to know who you are.”

“I don't know,” Devon replied with a hideous sinking feeling. He shook his head, feeling the dull pain that crossed from one side of his skull to the other. “I don't know who I am.”