Holt was away, taking care of a terminally ill friend. Megan was at school in the East. Nate was in the army.
She released a sigh. The ranch problems were hers to deal with. Her immediate choice had been to hire a horse trainer. Well, she’d have to wait and see how that worked out.
She turned around and saw her son at the big oak table, eating an afternoon snack. A sudden sadness consumed her. Her father used to wander in about this time of day and join his grandson for milk and cookies. She could still hear Brady’s giggles and her father’s laughter ring out through the house.
Clay Calhoun’s death had been hard on all of them, but mostly her son. The twosome had been inseparable. The only exception had been when it came to horses. Her father always thought Brady would outgrow his fears, but didn’t push the issue. That was why she had been so surprised when the child showed up in the corral today.
Jess still worried about her son. Not an outgoing boy by nature, the soon-to-be five-year-old needed to interact more with his peers. So three mornings a week Brady had been attending preschool while she ran her store, Jess’s Bakery, featuring homemade preserves, which she’d named after her mother: Sandra’s Preserves.
“Mom, is Johnny staying here for a long time?”
She studied Brady’s brown eyes. “Not sure, honey. He’s going to work with Grandpa’s horse.”
The boy took a drink of milk, then said, “’Cause Storm is sad about Papa going to heaven?”
She smiled. “Yeah, Storm is sad, too.” Was that the reason she resented Johnny, an outsider, coming here? Because he could handle her dad’s horse so easily, when none of them could? Or that her son trusted him?
“I hope he can make Storm happy again,” Brady said.
“So do I, son.” She turned back around and looked out the row of windows toward the horse barn. “For what we’re paying him, he’d better,” she murmured.
Jess hated this. Since her dad’s death, Holt had taken over the running of the ranch as if he’d been born to it. He had been, but he wasn’t here and could be away a long time. In the past, she’d always gone to her dad for answers and now he wasn’t around any longer.
She felt the sting of tears, remembering back six years ago when she’d told her parents she was pregnant and was going to be a single mom.
Even though her mother voiced her disappointment, her dad wrapped her in his big strong arms and told her that it would be all right. He made sure of that. The moment her son was born, Clay claimed him as a Calhoun. Over the years, it had been her dad who taught her about the importance of the land and family.
She turned back to her child. “Brady, what made you go into the corral today?”
The boy shrugged, concentrating on his chocolate chip cookie. “I dunno.”
“I thought we talked about this. Until you’re older, you need an adult to be with you when you’re around the stock. Please, pay attention to the rules. They’re for your safety.”
He looked at her. “I came to find you. I was afraid you got hurt ‘cause of Storm.” She saw the fear in his eyes.
She went to him at the table and knelt down. “Honey, I wouldn’t get close to a runaway horse on my own. And Wes was there, too.”
“And so was Johnny. Papa said he can work miracles.”
Oh, no, was he making things up? “Brady, we talked about this. Papa Clay is gone away.”
“I know. He’s buried in the ground on the hill with Grandma Sandy.” He pointed toward the barn. “But Papa said this before, when he was sick in bed. ‘Member when I went to his room and read him stories? Sometimes he talked about the ranch.”
She couldn’t hide her smile. That sounded like Dad. “I think you better talk to Holt about that.”
“Papa already told Uncle Holt that he needed to teach me ‘cause I hafta know how to run the Double Bar C when I grow up and be the boss. That’s when Papa and Uncle Holt talked about Johnny.” Brady wrinkled his freckled nose. “Mom, did you know that he talks to horses?”
“Who, Papa?”
“No, Johnny. And that’s why Papa wanted him to come here.” Tears formed in the child’s eyes. “That’s why I had to go and see Johnny. To tell him things about Storm.”
Jess blinked several times. “Okay.” She hugged him. He’d been so tough through the past months. “But next time let an adult know before you head to the corral. Storm isn’t safe to be around.”
“I know. But now Johnny’s gonna fix Storm so he’s a nice horse.”
From a child’s mouth to God’s ears. “We all want that, son, and I hope it happens, but don’t expect miracles.”
“But there are miracles, Mom. In Sunday school they talk about them all the time.”
Okay, she was going to lose this one. “Okay, we’ll see what happens.”
“So, can I watch Johnny with Storm?”
She shook her head. “It’s too dangerous right now.”
“What if Johnny says it’s okay, then can I do it?”
She was torn. Brady had been so afraid to get anywhere close to the stables. Now he wanted to be around the orneriest horse ever. “All right, when we see Johnny again, we’ll talk about it.”
He cheered. “Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
He nodded. “I asked him to come to supper, and he said yes.”
Great. She didn’t need this now, didn’t need to face Johnny again so soon.
She nodded and he climbed down from the table and ran off.
Nancy came in and cleared the table. “That’s a first, the boy going anywhere near a horse.”
Jess glanced at the housekeeper and nodded. “It shocked me, all right.”
“I can’t wait to get a good look at this Johnny Jameson.”
In her mid-forties, Nancy Griffith was full-figured. She had light brown hair that she wore pulled back into a ponytail, and had pretty hazel eyes and a smile that was as warm as she was herself. And since Jess’s mother died a few years ago, they had become the best of friends.
“Well, you can stroll down to the barn if you like.”
The housekeeper smiled. “I’ll just wait until supper.”
Jess thought about the man. She knew his type—he attracted women, and probably didn’t get turned down much. Well, she wasn’t going to be affected by him. “Nancy would you mind watching Brady for a while?”
“Of course not.”
“Good, I’m going to head back to the bakery for a few hours. I have my own business to run.” Before that she needed to show some Texas hospitality.
Johnny finished bringing his things upstairs to the two-room apartment. There was a living area and small kitchen. The other room held a queen-size bed and dresser. There was a tiny bathroom, with no tub, but a shower stall. That was plenty for him.
He sank into the well-worn leather sofa. Home. Until … At least for a few weeks. Not much longer than that. He’d always moved on when the mood struck him. He never wanted to get too attached to a place, especially when he felt he didn’t fit in. That was most of the time.
Yet, this ranch was a top-quality facility. Large stalls, a well-ventilated barn. Clay Calhoun had been serious about his horses.
He sank farther into the cushions. The past few years, he’d made good money because of his training skills. Moving around, he’d banked