House On Windridge (8 page)

“All right.”

She lowered her head and stared at her lap. “I would very much appreciate your help with the Windridge accounts. I've looked at the books, but I'm still not sure what I'm looking at.”

Devon chuckled. “I can't say that Gus was the best bookkeeper in the world. He knew his system but seldom wanted to share it with anyone else. It wasn't until about a year before he died that I knew we were in real trouble. After that, things just sort of went from bad to worse. But in answer to your question, I'll be glad to do what I can. I do know the workings of this ranch—very nearly as well as Buck. I think together we can give some strong consideration as to what is to be done.”

Jessica nodded. “Thank you. I do appreciate it. I know I've not acted with Christian charity, and God has quite seriously brought it to my attention.” She glanced up to find him studying her. Her heart skipped a beat when he grinned at her.

“He's had to bring it to my attention quite often as well—not because of your attitude,” he said, pausing, “but because of my own.”

Jessica got to her feet. The intimacy of the moment was rapidly becoming quite noticeable. “I hope this apology of mine will mean that you'll reconsider and share meals up at the house again. Kate hasn't been herself since you stopped coming up, and I know you're staying away because of the way I acted.”

Devon walked with her to the door. “That's not exactly true,” he told her. “I also stayed away because of the way I acted when I was around you.”

Jessica turned to look at him—wondering at his meaning—afraid to know the truth. Instead of asking him to explain, she realized she'd omitted a very important matter. “There's one more thing, and it comes very hard for me.”

“By all means, speak your mind.”

Jessica looked at him for a moment. She felt down deep inside that she could trust this man. That his motives were pure and his actions were not intended for harm. What she wasn't sure of was whether or not she could accept that her child would have needs in his life that she would be unable to fill—needs that would require a man's thought, perspective, and guidance.

“It's about Ryan,” she finally said.

“I see.”

Devon took a step back and looked like he might say something, but Jessica hurried to continue. “I was wrong there as well.” He raised a brow but said nothing, and Jessica realized she'd have to explain further. But how much should she say? Would it be appropriate to tell Devon about Esmerelda and her mother? Would it be appropriate to explain her deepest, heartfelt fear that she might somehow lose Ryan to another?

She looked away, tears forming in her eyes. How could she explain? She scarcely understood the feelings she had. She felt so protective of Ryan, but not only for him, but for fear she would once again be denied love.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “It's very difficult for me to speak about it.”

Devon's voice was low and filled with tenderness. “Jessica, I know you're still grieving your husband's passing and all. I wasn't trying to take his place.”

Jessica laughed and turned to meet Devon with her tears flowing freely. “It isn't that. Believe me, it isn't that at all.” Her voice sounded foreign in her own ears. It came out as a mixture of a laugh and a sob all at once. “I didn't love Newman Albright, and he certainly didn't love me. We married because he was chosen by my aunt Harriet. I often thought afterwards that for all she did to sing his charms and merits, Harriet should have married him herself.”

Devon reached out and touched her tear-streaked cheek. “Then what is this all about?”

“I might never have loved my husband, but I would die rather than lose my son,” she answered, quivering under the touch of his warm fingers.

“I still don't understand what that has to do with me.”

He looked at her with such intensity, such longing to understand, that Jessica had to close her eyes to regain her composure. “The only reason,” she began, her eyes still tightly closed, “that I didn't want you interfering with Ryan—”

“Yes? Go on,” he encouraged when she fell silent.

“I don't want you replacing me in his life,” she finally managed, but the tears came again. “He's all I have.” Her voice came out like a whimper, and Jessica hated sounding like a lost child. She knew it was better to be honest and face humiliation than to lie and go on dealing with her conscience.

To her surprise, Devon put his arms around her and gently pulled her head to his shoulder. No one had ever done this for her. Not once. Not even Newman. The action seemed so intimate, so loving, that Jessica broke down and cried in deep, heart-wrenching sobs.

Devon did nothing but hold her. He let her cry, all the time keeping his arms tightly around her. He didn't say a word or try to force answers out of her. He just held her. Oh, but it felt wonderful! It felt like something Jessica had
been searching for all of her life. Warm arms to comfort and assure her that the world outside would not break in to hurt her anymore. Without even realizing it, she had wrapped her own arms around Devon's waist and clung to him as though in letting go, she might well drown in a sea of emptiness.

After a few minutes, Jessica felt the weight of her emotions lift. Her tears subsided, and she fell silent. She knew it was quite uncalled for to be standing there alone with Devon,
embracing him so familiarly, but she was quite hesitant to let
go.

“Feel better?” he asked softly, reaching a hand up to smooth back her hair.

Jessica sniffed in a most unladylike way and nodded. “I think so.” She let go of him and wiped her face with the edge of her apron. “I'm sorry about losing control that way.”

“Don't be,” Devon answered quite seriously. “You don't have to face the world by yourself, Jess.”

The nickname warmed her, where only weeks ago it would have irritated her. “I know. I know. The Bible makes that clear, but sometimes it seems God is so far away.”

“I wasn't talking about God.” She looked up to see Devon's eyes narrow ever so slightly as he scrutinized her. “God is there for you,” he agreed. “I wouldn't presume to say otherwise. But I meant that we're here for you too. Katie, Buck, and me. We care about you, and we care about Ryan. And honestly, Jessica, I would never do anything to harm your child or to take him away from you. I do realize that there is more to this than you're telling me, but maybe one day you'll feel confident enough of our friendship to share it all. Until then, just know I care.

“We'll get through this, but we'll need to rely on one another. Ryan is starting to walk now, and there are plenty of dangers around the ranch. You'll wear yourself to the bone if you worry about having to watch him alone. Let us help you. We want to make your life easier, not harder, and certainly not more painful.”

Jessica nodded. “I know that.” She lowered her head and looked at the floor. What she would say next would come at considerable risk to her security. “Ryan seems so miserable without you around. I want you to feel free to play with him and be around him. I know he's already taken to you in a big way. I would even go so far as to say he loves you.”

Devon reached out to touch Jessica's chin with his index finger. Lifting her face, he replied, “He loves you too, Jessica. That won't change just because other people come into his life. It's been my experience, the more love the better. People need to be loved.”

Jessica felt his words cut deep into her heart. If she didn't clear out now, she'd start crying all over again. “Thank you,” she whispered quickly and hurried to the door. Throwing it open, she looked back over her shoulder. “I'm sure Kate has breakfast nearly ready. You will join us, won't you?”

“You bet. I'll be up to the house in a few minutes.”

❧

Devon watched Jessica walk up the path to the big stone house. He felt an overwhelming urge to run after her and declare his love for her. Funny, he thought, he'd fallen in love with her almost from the start. At least he thought it was love. He certainly knew that it was something powerful and strong. He thought about her constantly and worried that she would give up on the ranch before he had a chance to convince her to take his help.

He had money in the bank. Not a lot, but enough to help the ranch. He would just do as Buck and Kate had done and start purchasing things as they needed them, and he wouldn't let Jessica know about it. Of course, Buck would know, and so would Kate. But he knew they would keep his secret. Kate had told him of their scheme to sell quilts. Maybe he'd offer to take some to Kansas City when he went there to buy cattle. He could always add some extra dollars to the amount he actually managed to make.

It was easy enough to formulate an idea about bringing in more cattle and maybe a ranch hand or two, but it was harder to decide how he would help Jessica to work through her inability to trust. He longed to help her feel secure in the house on Windridge. He wanted her to know that her home would be here as long as she needed it. That he would be here too, if only she would let him.

He thought of her fears of losing Ryan's love and realized rather quickly that with Jessica's very personal declarations of her life, he had become privy to the knowledge that she had never felt loved. Kate had loved her from the start and had said so on many occasions. But Kate had not been allowed to raise the baby of Naomi and Gus Gussop. A cold, unfeeling woman with social concerns had raised Jessica. The father Jessica had never known had no idea how to receive her or her needs when that unfeeling woman had finally allowed Jessica a visit home.

Even her husband hadn't married her out of love. And Devon found that particularly distressing considering his own growing feelings. He hadn't said anything about his interest in Jessica, primarily because he assumed she wouldn't be ready for such attentions. Now he realized she was not only ready for it, but she'd been ready for over twenty-seven years. She needed love. She needed the love of a good man.

He smiled and leaned against the doorjamb as Jessica disappeared through the back door of the house. “I'm a good man,” he said aloud, a plan already formulating in his mind. His smile broadened. “In fact, I'm the only man for the job.”

He looked up into the clear morning sky and felt the overwhelming urge to share his thoughts with God. “This was what You had in mind for me all along, wasn't it? I wouldn't have been happy with another woman, and that's why You didn't let me waste my life on Jane Jenkins.”

He thought of the petite blond who'd appeared at the ranch less than two weeks before their wedding day to announce she was marrying someone else. At least she'd been good enough to bring back Devon's ring. The ring had belonged to his grandmother, and Jane knew how much it meant to him. She hadn't been totally without feeling.

“I can't stay out here in the middle of nowhere,” she had told him that day so long ago. “I hate Kansas and everything that goes with it. I want to see the world and live in a big city, and I've found someone who feels exactly like I do. I hope you'll forgive me like you said you would.”

Last Devon had heard, Jane was living just outside of Topeka. She had three kids, a cantankerous mother-in-law, and a husband who was seldom home due to his job as a traveling salesman. He felt sorry for her, knowing her dream had not been realized. At the time, her rejection had hurt him deeply; but as the months and years passed, Devon knew God had saved him from a miserable life.

“Thank You,” he whispered. “Thank You for sending Jane out of my life and for bringing Jessica into it. Now, it's my prayer that You would show me how to help her. How to make her feel loved and safe.”

He realized they would all be sitting down to breakfast soon, so he grabbed his hat and closed the door to the cottage. “It wouldn't hurt if You helped her to love me too.” He grinned and tapped his hat onto his head. “Wouldn't hurt at all.

Chapter 5

O
ne of Jessica's greatest pleasures came from horseback riding. Buck had suggested it one glorious April day, and Jessica found it a perfect solution to those times when the house seemed too quiet and the day too long. Of course, with Ryan now getting into things, those times were few and far between, but nevertheless, Jessica found it a wonderful time. Riding out across the prairie hills, she could think about the days to come—and the days now gone. She could plan her future without anyone barging in on her thoughts, and she could pray.

It also became an exercise in trust. She forced herself to leave Ryan in Kate's care and trust that nothing would happen to threaten her relationship with her son. It wasn't easy, but Jessica knew instinctively that it was right.

Now, having ridden to the top of the ridge, Jessica stared out across the rolling Flinthills and sighed. Flowers were just beginning to dot the prairie grasses. It reminded her of her mother. Kate had told her that this view had been Naomi's favorite because of the flowers and the contours of the hills and the glorious way the sunsets seemed to spill color across the western horizon.

Jessica wearied of the saddle and dismounted. “All right, Boy, it's back to the barn for you.”

The horse seemed to perfectly understand her, and with a snort and a whinny, he took off in the direction of the corrals and barn. By letting the horse go free, she found that he always made his way back to the stable and to Buck's tender care. The first time it had happened totally by mistake when Jessica had dismounted and let go of her reins. Buck had worried she'd been thrown, but Jessica had assured him as she came running down the hill to recapture her mount that she was fine. Buck had laughed; so had Devon; and when they'd shared the scene with Katie, she had laughed as well. Buck said the Windridge horses were so spoiled and pampered, they'd return to the barn every time, and after that, it just became the routine.

Today, the wind came from the south as it often did, but with it came a gentle scent of new life. Flowers bloomed sporadically across the prairie, and Jessica reveled in the addition of color to her otherwise rather drab world. The fields had greened up, much to the delight of the cattle who seemed rather tired of hay and dried dead grass. Even the house itself seemed to take on a more golden hue.

Jessica sighed and reached up to take off her bonnet. She let down her hair and shook it free, grateful to feel the wind through it one more time. Kate said her father had called this God's country, and Jessica could well understand why he felt that way. Just standing there, watching the cattle feed, seeing the occasional movement of a rabbit or the flight of birds overhead, Jessica felt her heart overflow with praise to God. His presence seemed to be everywhere at once.

The land was so wholly unspoiled. The city had a harshness to it that she'd once accused the prairie of having. Both could be ruthless in dealing with their tenants, but while the prairie did so from innocence, the city made its mark in snobbery, class strife, and confrontation.

In the city, Jessica seldom knew a moment when noise didn't dominate her day. The activities were enough to cause a person to go mad. And it seemed the poorer you were, the higher the level of clatter. Street vendors called out their wares from morning to night. Children—dirty urchins who had no real homes—raced up and down the streets begging money, food, shelter. Poverty brought its own sounds: the cries of the hungry, the street-fighting of the angry, the con men with their schemes to make everyone rich overnight.

But always the needs of the children concerned Jessica. She had tried to do what she could, but there'd been so little, and she could hardly take away from her own child in order to provide for someone else's. When her father had started to provide for her once again, she had shared what she could with some of the others. Esmerelda had thought her quite mad. “Charity,” she had told Jessica, “is better left to the truly rich.” Essie thought Jessica's money could be much better spent on a new gown or toys for Ryan. It was easy now to see how harsh Essie could be when Jessica refused to play by her rules.

And there were so many rules. Not just Essie's but New York's rules as well. The rules of class—of not crossing boundaries, of staying where you belonged. Jessica had provided a dichotomy for her friends. She had been raised in the best social settings with Harriet Nelson and married a man who held rank among the well-to-do. But when their money was gone, so too were their friends. It seemed strange to suddenly find that she was never invited to parties or teas. Never visited by those she had once been bosom companions with. Essie had maintained a letter-writing campaign, but never once had the young woman come to visit after things
had gone bad for Jessica. She hadn't even come to Newman's funeral.

But once Jessica's father stepped in to move her back to the proper neighborhood and reinstate her with financial resources, everyone flocked around. It was all as if Jessica had only been abroad for several years. In fact, Essie had once introduced her that way, telling the dinner guests that Jessica had enjoyed an extensive stay in Paris. It was true enough that she had done exactly that, but Essie failed to mention that Jessica had been thirteen years old at the time.

She let her gaze pan across the western horizon, while the waning sun touched her face with the slightest hint of warmth. She knew Aunt Harriet would have been appalled to find her in such a state, but to Jessica, it felt wonderful! She cherished the moment, just as she had when she'd been twelve.

“Thank You, Father,” she whispered, raising her hands heavenward as if to stretch out and touch her fingertips to God.

“You make a mighty fetching picture up here like that,” Devon said.

Jessica turned, surprised to see the overworked foreman making his way up the ridge. “I thought maybe you'd hightailed it back to civilization,” she teased to ease her own embarrassment. “I've scarcely seen you in two weeks.”

“There's been too much to do,” Devon told her. “But you already know that. Kate told me you've been pretty busy yourself.”

“Yes. We've finished up some quilts, and then Buck dug us up a garden patch.”

“I saw that. Can't say this is good farm ground, but Kate's gardens generally survive. It's all that tender loving care she gives them.” Devon took off his hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “Feels good up here.”

“Yes,” Jessica agreed. Her hair whipped wildly in the breeze, and she felt a bit embarrassed to be found in such a state. It was one thing to know they could see her from down below the hilltop, but for Devon to be here with her made Jessica self-conscious.

She reached up and began trying to pull her hair back into order, but Devon came forward and stilled her efforts. “Don't do that. It looks so nice down.”

Jessica laughed nervously and stepped away. “It's just something I do sometimes. Kind of silly, but it reminds me of when I was a little girl.”

“Nothing silly about that.”

“Maybe not,” Jessica said, forcing herself to look away from Devon's attractive face to the start of a beautiful sunset. “The prairie used to make me lonely. I used to feel so small and insignificant in the middle of it all. The hills just go on and on forever. It reminds me of how I'm just one tiny speck in a very big world.”

“What happened to change how you felt? I mean, you told me you wanted to stay here and never leave. Surely you wouldn't feel that way about a place that made you feel lonely and insignificant.”

Devon had come to stand beside her again, but Jessica refused to look at him. “I never had many chances to visit here before getting married, but after the second visit, I had already decided that the prairie was growing on me. I went home to New York City and felt swallowed up whole. The lifestyle, the parties, the activities that never seemed to end—it all made me feel so forgotten.”

“How so?” Devon questioned softly.

Jessica stopped toying with her hair and let it go free once again. “No one really ever talks to anyone there. You speak about the city, about the affairs of other people. You talk about the newest rages and the fashionable way to dress. You go to parties and dinners and present yourself to be seen with all the correct people, but you never, ever tell anyone how you feel about anything personal. It fit well with my upbringing, but I came to want more.”

She finally looked at him. “I feel alive out here. I feel like I can breathe and stretch and let my hair blow in the wind and no one will rebuke me for it. I feel like I can talk to you and Buck and Kate, and you not only talk back, but you really listen.”

“I can't imagine being any other way,” Devon said. “But, as for the coldness of the big city, I do understand. I go to Kansas City once, sometimes twice a year for supplies and to sell off the cattle. I hate it there. No one seems to care if you live or die.”

“I know,” Jessica replied, admiring the way the sky had taken on a blend of orange, yellow, and pink. “And you certainly never get sunsets like these.”

Devon laughed. “Nope.”

“I know God brought me here for a reason. I know He has a purpose for my life, and I feel strongly that my purpose involves helping other people. That may sound silly to you, but I know God has a plan for me.”

“It doesn't sound silly at all. I believe God has a plan for each of us.”

“What kind of plan does He have for you, Devon?” she asked seriously, concentrating on his expression.

Devon shoved his hands into his pockets and stared to the west. “I don't guess I know in full.”

“So tell me in part,” she urged.

“I know God brought me to this ranch. It was a healing for me, so when you speak of it being a healing for other people, I guess I understand. I was once engaged to be married, but it didn't work out. Windridge saw me through some bad times. Now, however, I feel God has shown me the reason for that situation and the result.”

“What reason?” Jessica questioned, truly wondering how Devon could speak so casually about losing the woman he apparently loved.

“I know God has someone else for me to marry. He's already picked her
out.”

“Oh,” she replied, her answer sounding flat. She'd only recently allowed herself to think about Devon as something more than a ranch foreman. She'd actually given herself permission to consider what it might be like to fall in love and marry a man like Devon Carter. His words came as a shock and stung her effectively into silence.

“I don't like being alone. I see myself with a family of my own. Six or seven—boys, girls, it doesn't matter—and a fine spread to work. Ranches can be excellent places to bring up children.”

He looked at her as if expecting her to comment, but Jessica had no idea what to say. His words only told her that one day he would go his way and leave her alone. Not only that but leave Ryan alone as well. A dull ache caused her to abruptly change the subject.

“I see Windridge surviving and becoming stronger. I think we have a lot to offer folks here. Have you had a chance to look over those articles I left with you?”

“I've looked them over. I have to say I'm not nearly as against the idea as I once was. It seems the ranch would mostly be open to the public during summer months, is that right?”

Jessica perked up at his positive attitude. “Yes. Yes, that's right. Late spring
to early autumn might be the biggest stretch of time, but basically it would be
summer.”

“Ranches can be mighty busy during the summer,” he commented.

“Yes, but that's part of the attraction. Folks from back East will come to see the workings of the ranch. You and your men would be able to go about your business, and the visitors would be able to observe you in action.”

“They'd also want to ride and maybe even try their hand at what we do, at least that's what one of your clippings said,” Devon countered.

“But only if we wanted it to be that way,” Jessica replied. “It can be arranged however we see fit. No one makes the rules but us.”

“I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if the rest of the year allowed us to get back to normal. The location does seem right for something like that. I suppose we could even fix one of the larger ponds with a deck and a place for fishing.”

“What a good idea,” Jessica replied. “Maybe swimming too.”

Devon nodded. “Hmmm, maybe. Might be a bit cold. Remember, those aren't hot springs.” He appeared to be genuinely considering the matter. “And you see this as a ministry?”

Jessica felt herself grow slightly defensive. “I do. I see a great many things we can share with people. Kindness and love, mercy, tolerance—you name it. I know it would be a resort, and people would pay to come here and rest, but how we handled their stay would be evidence of Christ working in our lives. They would see how we dealt with problems and handled our daily lives.”

“One of the articles talked about taking folks out camping under the stars to give them a taste of what the pioneers experienced when they went west in covered wagons. You thinking about doing that?” Devon asked.

Jessica considered the matter for a moment. “I think at first it would be to our benefit to just keep small. We could advertise it very nearly like a boarding home for vacationers. We could offer quiet summers. Maybe fishing, like you suggested, and horseback riding. We could build some nice chairs for the porch, and Kate and I could make cushions; folks could go through my father's library and pick out something to read and just relax on the porch. I just want to make a difference in people's lives.”

Devon stepped closer. “You've made a difference in mine. You and Ryan
both.”

She looked into his warm brown eyes and saw a reflection of something she didn't understand. His words sounded important, yet he'd made it clear that God had someone already in mind for him to marry.