When Love's Gone Country

Chapter Eleven



“Get a good rest tonight,” Frank said. “We rise before the roosters around here.”

“He’s not kidding,” Emma said. “One of the ranch hands will be by to wake you in the morning. You’ll have less than fifteen minutes to get dressed and head down to the fire pit for instructions.”

When Emma left, Jeremy said, “No breakfast?”

“On a ranch, you tend to the animals first, yourself second,” Alex said.

“I think I liked California better’n this.”

Courtney laughed as she put her arms around his shoulders. “Me, too. Maybe it will get better.”

“I sure hope so.”

Bobby noticed Jacob heading back toward the other ranch hand quarters. “Night, son.”

Jacob nodded.

“If you change your mind, there’s a room at the end of the hall for you. You can have it all to yourself,” Meg said.

“I won’t need it.” Jacob made his way back to the sterile barracks. It seemed to fit his mood. Two of the lanterns had run out of kerosene, but four were still lit. He sat at the picnic table, reaching into his pocket to remove a roll he’d stashed away at dinner. He pulled off two small pieces and placed them at the far end of the table.

It wasn’t long before a scurrying sound caught his attention.

“It’s okay. I brought it for you. We’re going to be sharing this space for a few weeks. I figured we should be friends.”

The mouse stared at him, but remained hesitant.

“I’ll just leave it there for you. I don’t really know what to call you. I guess just mouse. Doesn’t really seem to fit you, though.

I’m going to go to sleep. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bite me or anything, but I get it if you feel like you need to protect your space. I’d do the same thing if someone busted in on my territory.”

Jeremy left three of the lights burning and took one with him to the end of the barracks where he sat it on a chair. He gathered all the blankets, laying all but two on the old springs. The other two he used to cover himself and keep warm, keeping his shoes on in case he needed to leave in a hurry.

Yeah, he knew about protecting what little was his. His hand curled around the gun handle in his pocket. His father had taught him that. One of the few things he had learned from Paul Reese.

He’d been at him again that night, but it was different. Jacob had the ritual down. Knew what his dad would say and how he would say it. Threatening with his tone and body language, as well as his words. He was in control and they both knew it. But one day, one day Jacob would be the one in control.

Instead of following his routine, he had shown concern over a bruise he saw on Jacob’s shoulder. He’d told him to take his shirt off so he could get a better look at it.

Jacob was leery, as he always was of any kind of gentle care either of his parents showed him, but he did as he was told.

When Paul Reese told him to remove his pants for a full body check, Jacob knew this time was different. He said he didn’t feel well, like he was going to throw up.

“If you throw up, you’ll be eating it with a spoon for breakfast.”

He’d grabbed one of the belt loops on Jacob’s jeans and pulled him into his lap. Jacob fought, as he always did, even though it made his father madder.

Blood and pain weren’t new to him, but this kind of invasion tore a hole in his soul. When his father said, “Just remember, if you don’t do what I say, I’ve got little Jeremy to go to,” something snapped inside Jacob.

He endured the rest of his dad’s physical torture. He slapped him on the butt for the last time, leaving a red hand stain, then left the room.

Jacob found him in the recliner in the living room drinking a beer and watching Cops. It hadn’t been hard to find the gun. Paul Reese made no secret of where he kept it, or where the bullets could be found.

Jacob held the fire arm with both hands. No sign of hesitation. No quivering. No regret in his heart.

When his father saw him, he laughed. “Be careful now, son, you might put your eye out with that thing.”

His father was laughing when Jacob pulled the trigger. He’d been aiming for his heart, but ended up skimming his kneecap.

“Son of a bitch! You shot me. You little mother f*cker! You shot me.”

Jacob ran into his room, stuffed his and Jeremy’s clothes in a bag along with a few other items, then woke Jeremy. “Come on. We’re leavin’.”

“Where we goin?”

“Away from here.”

“Are we comin’ back?”

“Never.”

“What the hell’d you do to your knee?” Amanda Reese asked her husband.

“Your damn kid shot me.”

Amanda laughed callously. “He better learn to aim better.”

“Call 911! I’m bleedin’ to death here.”

Amanda surveyed the damage. “It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll get some bandages.”

“I need a doctor.”

“You’ll be fine. Drink your beer.”

Amanda saw the boys in the hallway. “If you’re goin’ to shoot someone, learn to do it right. You can’t even kill somebody decent. Such a piece of shit. Go on, get out of here if you want to go. Good riddance if you ask me. I don’t ever want to see your sorry asses again. Worst two days of my life was when I had you kids.”

Jacob and Jeremy ran out the front door without looking back. They went to the park near their home and hid in the bushes.

“Did you kill Dad?”

“No. I missed and hit him in the knee.”

“You think she meant what she said about the worst day of her life bein’ when you and me was born?”

“I think she’s had a lot of bad days in her life. I don’t know how she could pick just two.”

They sat in silence for several minutes.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good.” Jeremy sighed and relaxed. “I don’t got a plan.”

“You don’t need one. I’ll take care of you. You never have to worry about that. You’re my brother, my only family. We’ll be together forever.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He’d made a promise to Jeremy that day. A promise he was about to break. He threw back the blankets, grabbed his backpack and left the barracks. He needed air, space. Sometimes it seemed like the entire world was on his shoulders and he couldn’t breathe from the crushing weight.

The ranch was lit every hundred yards or so, making it easy to walk the pathways at any time of day or night.

Jacob found himself near the cow paddock within five minutes. He dropped his backpack and climbed onto the fence, straddling it like he imagined cowboys used to do in the old days. He looked up at the sky. It was so dark, or maybe it was that the stars were so bright. They were endless.

He lowered himself from the wooden structure, wrapped the wool blanket around his shoulders and hunkered down by the fencepost and his backpack.

He couldn’t have been asleep more than half an hour when he felt something tugging on his arm. Jacob jumped when a tongue aimed at his face came through the space in the fence. It was a calf. Jacob looked around to find the mother. She did not appear amused by her baby’s playful antics.

“It came to me,” Jacob tried to explain, then stopped. “I’m explaining to a cow.”

The creak and squeak of the paddock lock being removed and the gate swinging open captured his attention. Jacob squinted. The light that was so prevalent everywhere else seemed to be absent here. He could barely make out the shape of two tall men.

“Hurry up. Put it in the water,” a whispered voice said.

“All of it?”

“Yes, all of it.”

The first person looked around the area. “Someone’s coming. Hurry up!”

“Got it.”

The door swung closed and the lock clanked shut. They disappeared into the night as quickly as they had arrived.

The sound of running feet came from the left, then stopped by the gate. “I know I saw someone down here,” Red Atkins said.

“Could’a been a cow walking around,” Bart Wilson said.

“It wasn’t a cow.”

“Well, if someone was here, they’re not here now.”

“Count ‘em.”

“They’re all there. It’s the middle of the night.”

“Count ‘em. I’m gonna look around.”

“Spend half the night countin’ cows, for what? I wouldn’t mind counting sheep.” Bart laughed at his own joke. “Did ya hear that, Red? ‘Course he didn’t hear that. He never hears the good ones.”