Kitabı oku: «Lone Heart Pass»
Where family bonds are made and broken, and where young love sparks as old flames grow dim, Ransom Canyon is ready to welcome—and shelter—those who need it
With a career and a relationship in ruins, Jubilee Hamilton is left reeling from a fast fall to the bottom. The run-down Texas farm she’s inherited is a far cry from the second chance she hoped for, but it and the abrasive foreman she’s forced to hire are all she’s got.
Every time Charley Collins has let a woman get close, he’s been burned. So Lone Heart ranch and the contrary woman who owns it are merely a means to an end, until Jubilee tempts him to take another risk—to stop resisting the attraction drawing them together despite all his hard-learned logic.
Desperation is all young Thatcher Jones knows. And when he finds himself mixed up in a murder investigation, his only protection is the shelter of a man and woman who—just like him—need someone to trust.
Praise for Jodi Thomas and her RANSOM CANYON series
“Jodi Thomas is a masterful storyteller. She grabs your attention on the first page, captures your heart, and then makes you sad when it’s time to bid her wonderful characters farewell. You can count on Jodi Thomas to give you a satisfying and memorable read.”
—Catherine Anderson, New York Times bestselling author
“Thomas sketches a slow, sweet surrender.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Compelling and beautifully written, it is exactly the kind of
heart-wrenching, emotional story one has come to expect from Jodi Thomas.”
—Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Jodi Thomas has the ability to reel me in every time with her enterprising, intelligent and caring cast of characters and
Ransom Canyon has some of the best yet. ”
—Fresh Fiction
“This book is like once again visiting old friends while making
new ones and will leave readers eager for the next visit. A pure joy to read.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Thomas could make a city girl hang up her pumps for a pair of boots with her descriptions of clear blue skies and dusk-red dirt. Fans will anxiously await the next book in the series because, like meeting with old friends, catching up with the characters of Ransom Canyon can’t come soon enough.”
—BookPage
“Ransom Canyon is a tale of redemption and hope filled with authentic dialogue and characters engaging enough to chat with over a cup of coffee.”
—Fort Worth Star-Telegram
“Ransom Canyon introduces readers to a close-knit society that takes care of its own… In true Jodi Thomas fashion, readers will be drawn into this tale, feeling empathy for the beautifully written characters, and enjoying the everyday life in a small town.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Western romance legend Thomas’s Ransom Canyon will warm readers with its huge heart and gentle souls.”
—Library Journal
Lone Heart Pass
Jodi Thomas
MILLS & BOON
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Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Praise
Title Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Extract
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
Jubilee Hamilton
November 2009
THE GEORGETOWN STREET in front of Jubilee Hamilton’s office looked more like a river of mud than a beautiful old brick lane.
“Why does it always have to rain on election day?” she asked the life-size cutout of her candidate.
The few volunteers left in the campaign office were cleaning out their desks. The polls hadn’t been closed an hour, and Jubilee’s horse in the race had already been declared the loser.
Or maybe she was the loser. Two months ago her live-in boyfriend, the man she’d thought she’d someday settle down with and have the two-point-five kids, had said goodbye. David had called her a self-absorbed workaholic. He’d accused her of being cold, uncaring, thoughtless, self-centered.
When she’d denied it, he’d asked one question. “When’s my birthday, Jub?”
She’d folded her arms as if to say she wasn’t playing games. But this time her mild-mannered lover hadn’t backed down.
“Well,” he stared at her, heartbroken.
When she didn’t answer, David asked again. “We’ve been together three years. When is my birthday, Jub?”
“February 19,” she guessed.
“Not even close.” David picked up his briefcase and walked toward the door. “I’ll get my things after the election is over. You won’t have time to open the door for me before then.”
Jubilee didn’t have time to miss him, either. She had an election to run. She worked so many hours she started sleeping at the office every other night. Sometime in the weeks that followed, David had dropped by the apartment and packed his things. She’d walked in on a mountain of boxes marked with Ds. All she remembered thinking at the time was that she was glad he’d left her clean clothes still hanging.
A few days later the Ds were gone and one apartment key lay on the counter. There was no time to miss him or his boxes.
Jubilee had thought of crying, but she didn’t bother. Boyfriends had vanished before. Two in college, one before David while she lived in Washington, DC. She’d have time for lovers later. Right now, at twenty-six, she needed to build her career. As always, work was her life. Men were simply extras she could live with or without. She barely noticed the mail piling up or the sign on the door telling her she had six weeks before she had to vacate the premises.
Then the rain came. The election ended. Her candidate had lost. She’d lost. No job would be waiting for her at dawn. No David would be standing in the door of their apartment this time, ready to comfort her.
Her third loss as a campaign manager. Three strikes, you’re out, she thought.
She walked through the rain alone, not caring that she was soaked. She’d given her all this time and she’d ended up with nothing. The candidate she’d fought so hard for hadn’t even bothered to call her at the end.
When she unlocked the door to the apartment that now looked more like a storage unit than a home, she wasn’t surprised the lights wouldn’t come on. David had always taken care of minor things like paying the bills.
She sat down on one of the boxes and reached for her phone before she realized she had no one to call. No friends. No old school buddies she’d kept up with. All the numbers in her contacts were business related except the three for her family. She scrolled down to the Hamiltons.
First number, her parents. They hadn’t spoken to her since she’d missed her sister’s wedding. Jubilee shrugged. Really, how important was a bridesmaid?
Destiny’s wedding was beautiful anyway. Jubilee saw the pictures on Facebook. Had she attended, as the too tall, too thin sister, she would have only crumbled Destiny’s perfection.
She moved down the list. Destiny. Her sister, six years older, always prettier, always smarter, never liking having her around.
Jubilee ran through memories like flashcards of her childhood. Destiny had cut off all her hair when she was three. Told Jubilee she was adopted when she was five. Left her at the park after dark when she was seven. Slashed her bike tires when she was ten so she couldn’t follow along.
Oh, yeah, Jubilee thought, don’t forget about telling me I was dying when I got my first period. The whole family was laughing as she’d written out her will at twelve.
The flashcards tumbled to the floor in her mind along with any need to talk to Destiny whatever-her-last-name-was-now.
If big sisters were measured on a scale of one to ten, Destiny would be double digits in the negative.
She moved down to the next Hamilton on her contact list. Her great-grandfather. She’d lived with him the summer she’d been eleven because her parents wanted to tour college options with Destiny. They’d all waved as they dropped her off at Grandpa Levy’s with smiles as if they’d left a bothersome pet at the pound.
Two weeks later they’d called and said they couldn’t make the trip back to Texas to get her because of car trouble. A week after that there was another school to consider. Then her father wanted to wait until he had a few days off so the trip from Kansas to Texas wouldn’t be so hard on the family.
Jubilee had missed the first two weeks of school before they made it back, and she hadn’t cared. She would have stayed on the ranch forever.
Grandpa Levy was ornery and old. Even at eleven she could tell the whole family didn’t like him or want the worthless dry-land farm he’d lived on since birth. Levy talked with his mouth full, cussed more than Methodists allow, only bathed once a week and complained about everything but her.
Jubilee’s parents barely took the time to turn off the engine when they picked her up. The old man didn’t hug her, but his knotted, leathered hand dug into her shoulder as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. That meant more than anything he could have said.
She never told anyone how wonderful Grandpa Levy had been to her. He gave her a horse and taught her to ride, and all summer she was right by his side. Collecting eggs, birthing calves, cutting hay. For the first time in her life no one told her what she was doing wrong.
Jubilee stared at his number. She hadn’t talked to him since Christmas, but the moment she’d heard his raspy voice, she’d felt like the eleven-year-old again, giggling and telling him things he probably cared nothing about. Her great-grandfather had listened and answered each rant she went through with comments like, “You’ll figure it out, kid. God didn’t give you all those brains for nothing.”
She wanted to talk to him now. She needed to say she hadn’t figured anything out.
Jubilee pushed the number and listened to it ring. She could imagine the house phone on the wall between his kitchen and living room ringing through empty bedrooms and hallways that always smelled dusty. He lived in the two rooms off the kitchen and left the other rooms to sleep, he claimed.
“Answer,” she whispered, needing to know that someone was out there. Right now, tonight, she could almost believe she was the only one left alive. “Answer, Grandpa.”
Finally, after twenty rings, she hung up. The old guy didn’t even have an answering machine, and he’d probably never heard of a cell phone. Maybe he was in the barn or over near the corral where the cowhands who worked for him lived from spring to fall. Maybe he’d driven the two-lane road to town for his once-a-month trip. If so, he’d be having dinner at the little café in Crossroads. He was probably ordering two slices of Dorothy’s pie right now.
She wished she were there in the booth across from him.
With the streetlight’s glow from the window, she crossed to her fireplace and lit the logs. Strange how after more than a dozen years she still missed him when she’d never missed anyone else. She had lived years with her parents and remembered only slices of her life, but she remembered every detail of that summer.
As the paper-wrapped logs caught fire, the flames’ light danced off the boxes and blank walls of her world. She found a half bottle of wine in the warm fridge and a bag of Halloween candy she hadn’t been home to hand out. Curled up by the fire in her dark apartment, she began to read her mail. Most of the time she would fling the envelope into the fire without opening it. Ads. Letters from strangers. Catalogs filled with stuff she didn’t need or want.
One by one she tossed the envelopes into the fire along with every hope and dream she’d had about a career as a campaign manager.
In the last stack of mail, she noticed a large white envelope hand-addressed to her. Curiosity finally caught her attention. The postmark was over a month ago. Surely it wasn’t something important, or someone would have called her.
Slowly, she opened the envelope.
Tears silently tumbled as she saw the top of the page. She began to read Levy Hamilton’s will. Word by word. Aloud. Making herself feel truth’s pain.
The last page was a note scribbled on a lawyer’s office stationery.
Levy died two months ago, Miss Hamilton. We were unable to reach any family, so I followed his request and buried him on his land. When he named you his sole heir of Lone Heart Ranch, he told me you’d figure out what to do with the old place. I hope this will get to you eventually. I’ll see you when you get here.
Jubilee turned over the envelope. It had been forwarded twice before reaching her.
She laid the will aside and cried harder than she’d ever cried for the one person who’d ever really loved her. The one person she’d ever loved.
After the fire burned low and shadows slowly waltzed as if circling the last bit of light, she thought she felt Levy’s hand resting on her shoulder. His knotted fingers didn’t seem ready to let her go.
At dawn she packed the last of her clothes, called a storage company to pick up the boxes and walked away from her life in DC with one suitcase and her empty briefcase.
She’d go to her parents’ house over the holidays. She’d try to find the pieces of herself and see if she could glue them together. But together or not, she’d start over where the wind never stopped blowing, and dust came as a side dish at every meal. She may have only lived there a few months, but Lone Heart Ranch might be the only place where she’d ever felt she belonged.
CHAPTER TWO
Charley Collins
February 2010
“SET ’EM UP, CHARLEY. We’ll have another round.” The kid on the other side of the bar was barely old enough to drink, but his laugh was loud and his voice demanding. “It’s Valentine’s Day and none of us have a date. That’s something to get drunk over.”
Charley Collins swore under his breath. The drunks had had enough, but he’d be fired if he didn’t serve the college boys, and he couldn’t afford to lose another job. This dark, dusty bar wasn’t much, but it kept food on the table and gas in his pickup.
“Aren’t you Reid Collins’s brother?” asked the only one of the boys who could still talk without drooling. “You look like him. Taller, maybe a little older. Got that same reddish-brown hair he’s got. Red River mud-color if you ask me.”
Before Charley could say anything, another drunk shook his head wildly. “No brother of Reid would be a bartender.” He burped. “Collinses are rich. Deep-pocket rich. They own more land than a cowboy can ride across in a day.”
Charley moved down the bar, hoping to slip out of being the topic of conversation. He hated the way they’d been talking about women all night, but that was better than listening to a conversation about him.
The sober one continued just loud enough for Charley to hear.
“I heard Reid had a big brother a couple of years older than him. Papa Collins disowned his oldest son. I remember Reid saying his dad ordered an armed guard to escort his brother off the ranch like he was some kind of criminal. Davis Collins told his own son that if he ever set foot on the land again, he’d have him shot for trespassing.”
Charley picked up the box of beer bottles and headed outside. He’d heard enough. He needed air.
It took several steps before the noise and smell of the bar cleared, but he walked all the way to the alley. After he set the bottles down by the trash, he stared at the open land behind the Two Step Saloon and took a deep breath. He needed clean air and space and silence. He was born for open country, and he had no idea how he’d survive working in a beer joint and living above it in a tiny two-room apartment.
Every time he swore things couldn’t get worse, they did.
Staring at the full moon, he felt like cussing or drinking his trouble away. But cussing wasn’t a habit he needed and he couldn’t afford the liquor.
He couldn’t quit and he couldn’t run. Not without a stake to start over somewhere else. Charley had a feeling that somewhere else wouldn’t fit him anyway. This part of Texas was in his blood. He belonged here even if it did seem half the people for a hundred miles around were trying to run him out.
Like a miner taking one last breath before he climbed back into the hole, Charley filled his lungs and turned around.
He saw a woman in the shadows near the back door. She was tall and perfectly built even in silhouette. Long dark hair circled over her shoulders in the breeze like a cape. For a moment he hoped she was a ghost. Lately he’d been a lot less afraid of spirits than women.
When he was five feet away he made out her face—not that he needed more than the outline of her body to know who she was. “Hello, Lexie. You miss the turnoff to the ladies room?”
Her laugh was low and sexy. She was in her thirties now, but nothing about Lexie had slipped from the beauty queen she’d been. He’d seen her come in an hour ago with some guy in a business suit and fancy boots that had probably never touched dirt.
“I followed you out, Charley.” She waited like a spider waits for a fly to land on its web. “Anyone ever tell you you’re one hell of a handsome man? Tall, lean with bedroom-blue eyes. I was trying to concentrate on my next husband, but all I could do was stare at you. You got that mixture of Prince Charming and Bad Boy down pat. I can tell how good a man is going to be in bed just by the way he moves and, honey, you are walking sex appeal.”
Charley thought of arguing. She must be blind. He was two months past due for a haircut, four days late on shaving, and he’d slept in the jeans and shirt he had on for the past two nights.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that lie before,” he answered her question. “My last stepmother told me how irresistible I was about an hour before my father disowned me.”
Lexie moved closer. “Must have been one wild hour.”
He wasn’t about to go into detail. Half the town probably already knew. He’d been screwing up his life since high school. Frogs had more sense than he did when it came to knowing the opposite sex. He’d been in his last year of college when his father, the powerful Davis Collins, finally had enough.
For once, Charley had been back home for a few days over Christmas break. He’d decided to stay at the Collins ranch headquarters and try to at least have one conversation with his father about his plans after college. Charley had studied and dreamed of taking over managing pasture that had been in his family for a hundred years. He was one semester away, and his dad was ready to hand over the work so he and his latest brainless bride could travel.
She’d been his dad’s fourth wife, young enough to be Davis Collins’s daughter. Charley had never turned down a pretty woman’s offer, and he didn’t turn her down when she came to his room wearing nothing but the bottom of her silk boxer-length pajamas. She hadn’t even said a word, just closed the door and smiled.
The rest was common knowledge. His old man found them together and kicked him off the ranch. He had everything in Charley’s room, as well as his horse, packed up and loaded in a trailer. Collins had a few of his cowhands deliver the load to Charley’s address at the university.
Charley’s accounts and credit cards were closed before New Year’s Day. He had to drop out of school and find a full-time job. So, he abandoned his dream of graduation and came home to Crossroads, Texas, where his few true friends still lived. They offered help, but after a while, he had to step away. He had to figure out life on his own. There comes a time when even working a lousy job and living in a dump is better than charity.
Only Lexie whatever-her-name-was-these-days wasn’t offering charity tonight.
“What are you doing in town, Lexie?”
“Trying to get rid of my aunt’s rundown dump of a house. You know anyone who’d want to buy it? The place is huge.”
“No.” He knew neither one of them cared about any house. They were just passing time.
“What time do you get off, Charley? We could have some fun after midnight. My sweetie has to head back to Dallas in a few minutes and I’ll be all alone.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not interested.” He unwound her arm from around his. “Maybe some other time.”
He almost ran to the open door, pushing himself back into the noise and the smells; they were a lesser kind of hell than what she was offering.
Charley stayed busy at the bar and didn’t see her leave. He just looked up and saw the table where she had been was empty. Lexie was a kind of poison he didn’t need.
A few hours later, the bar was quiet and all the drunks were gone. He washed the last of the shot glasses and headed upstairs. When he passed the bar owner, Ike Perez, Charley nodded a good-night.
“Tell Daniela to hurry on down. I don’t want to wait on her.” Perez sounded gruffer than he really was. In truth, he’d been one of the few in town to even give Charley a chance. There was lots of one-day part-time seasonal work, but he needed something regular. This job came with low pay for weekend work and a place to live.
Charley tapped on his own apartment door. Fifteen-year-old Daniela, rubbing her eyes, pulled the door open. “I know,” she mumbled. “Papa is ready to go.”
“The little princess asleep?” Charley asked as he passed the girl who’d probably already reached her full height of five foot three. Daniela was young, but she made a good babysitter.
“Yeah. I got a new strategy.” Daniela giggled. “I let her watch TV until she nods off. Otherwise she never stops talking. That kid has an imagination that won’t quit.”
Charley handed Daniela her backpack. “Thanks.” He passed her a ten—half his tips for the night.
“No problem. I’d rather be here than home helping Mama cook for the weekend.” She clomped down the stairs as he closed the door. “Good night, Mr. Collins. See you next weekend.”
Charley tugged off his boots and tiptoed into the little bedroom. A tiny nightlight lit the room just enough for him to see the bump in the bed. Carefully, he sat down beside Lillie and pulled her small body close, loving the smell of her. Loving the soft feel of her hair.
“Good night, pumpkin,” he whispered. “I love you to the end of forever.”
Lillie stretched as her arm circled his neck and whispered, half-asleep, “I love you too, Daddy.”
He rocked her small body until he knew she was asleep again, then moved into the living room. Taking the blanket and pillow from behind the couch, he tried to make his long legs fit into the small space.
In the silence, he smiled. Of all the mistakes he’d made in his life, Lillie was his only blessing. Five years ago his father had been furious when he’d learned Charley’s girlfriend was pregnant. Eventually, Davis Collins had accepted them getting married, but he’d never invited Sharon or Lillie to the ranch. Davis Collins had never even seen his only grandchild.
A year after Lillie was born, Sharon left Charley, saying motherhood wasn’t her thing. Charley had another fight with his dad when Davis found out Charley planned to keep the baby. He’d agreed to pay tuition and nothing more. Davis had simply said, “She’s your mistake, not mine.”
So Charley worked thirty hours a week and carried a full load. Sharon’s parents, the other grandparents, agreed to keep Lillie on Charley’s rare visits to his father’s ranch.
Charley had survived almost two years taking care of Lillie alone. He’d almost made it to the end of college, when he’d have had his degree and could have forgotten about any family but Lillie. He’d thought his father would turn over the ranch to him and move permanently to Dallas. Maybe Davis would even accept Lillie, eventually.
Then Charley messed up again. But he’d had no thought of sleeping with his father’s brainless fourth wife until she walked into his room and his brain shut off.
Charley climbed out of his makeshift bed on the couch and walked to the fridge to get a bottle of water. The floor in the apartment creaked so loud he was afraid it might wake up the little princess.
Neither the water nor two aspirin could take his mind off his mistakes. He remembered that at first he’d hoped his father would cool down. After all, Davis himself bragged about sleeping with other men’s wives. Even after his dad kicked him off the ranch, Charley thought he’d go back to school and finish his last semester. But no money came in for tuition. He scraped all he could together, but Lillie got sick. Between doctor bills and missing work, he couldn’t make ends meet. He took incompletes, planning to return to college as soon as he got on his feet. But there was Lillie to take care of, and a kid can’t live in the back of a car and grow on fast food. And then his car was towed.
He finally gave up trying to survive and stay in school. He borrowed enough to buy an old pickup and made it back to Crossroads. Now Lillie was five and he was no closer to finishing the last semester. No closer to getting his life in order.
He stared at the ceiling as though it would give him an answer to the problems he faced, but no answer came.
He’d sworn off women for good. He’d probably never live down what he’d done with his stepmother even though his father was now married to wife number five. Folks in this town had long memories. So he got up every morning and did the jobs he hated because of Lillie.
He climbed off the couch again to check on her, something he did every night no matter how tired he was.
After pulling the cover over her shoulder, he went back to his bed.
That first year, he remembered, she’d cried for her mother. Charley made up his mind that she’d never cry for him because he planned to be near and no matter what mistakes in life she made, she’d never stop being his daughter.
In the stillness over the bar, Charley counted the jobs he had lined up for the next week. Day work on two ranches for one day each, hauling for the hardware store on Wednesday, stocking at the grocery any morning he could.
His ex-wife’s parents, Ted and Helen Lee, helped with Lillie when they could. They’d take her to kindergarten on the mornings he had to leave before dawn, and pick her up on the days he didn’t get off work early enough. But every night, Charley wanted to be the one to tuck her in.
Sharon’s folks were kind people. They hadn’t heard from her in over a year and that had been only a postcard saying she was moving to LA.
The old couple didn’t have much, but they were good to Lillie and him. Some days Charley thought the kid was their only sunshine.
He smiled as he drifted to sleep. He had a very special standing date come morning. Sundays he’d make pancakes with Lillie and then they’d saddle up her pony and his quarter horse and ride down into Ransom Canyon while the air was still cold and the day was newborn. They’d ride and talk and laugh. He’d tell her stories his grandfather told him about the early days when longhorn cattle and wild mustangs ran across the land.
When they stopped to rest, she’d beg him for more stories. Her favorite was all about the great buffalo herds and how, when they stampeded, they’d shake the ground.
She’d giggle when she put her hand on the earth and swear she could feel the herd headed toward them.
Charley would laugh with her and for a moment he’d feel rich.
