Authors: Carter Ashby
“I’ll be friends with anyone I want!” Ivy was shouting at him in response to whatever he’d shouted at her.
“Not with my boys, you won’t. Turner, get this little s—”
“Pop!” Jake interrupted, before Jared Turner was forced to defend his daughter’s honor again. “Let’s just get Boone home, okay?” he asked. He looked to his mom for support, even though it was a foolish thing to do. She’d never stood up to Gideon and, as far as Jake could tell, she never would. Still, she took Boone’s arm and started leading him to the truck.
The color in Ivy’s cheeks faded. Jake’s hat hung on the back of her neck by the tie underneath. She turned, smiled at Jake, and started walking toward him. Whereas a moment ago it had been the most natural thing in the world to take Ivy in his arms, now, with Gideon’s glare centered straight on him, Jake instinctively took a step back. Now wasn’t the time to add fuel to the fire, surely Ivy could see that.
She froze, her smile dying.
Jake gulped. He extended his hand. “Thank you for your help, Ivy,” he said, hoping she’d take the hint and not be too angry at him.
She stepped forward, and for his ears only, said, “Screw you, Jake. I’m keeping this hat.” She placed it on her head with a stubborn pout, turned, and walked past her father to their truck.
Gideon’s glare was still burning through him. Jake could only imagine what he thought. “Is that your hat on her head, boy?” he snarled.
Jake studied his father for a moment. “Of course not,” he said, just like Peter denying Jesus. And just like Peter, he found ways to justify his denial. It wasn’t the right time. Gideon was in a fragile state. Clara was in a fragile state. There were any number of valid excuses.
On the ride home, his smile had vanished. He thought about her parting words and wondered what she’d meant. He did like his hat, but she was welcome to keep it. He was just as happy knowing she was wearing it.
Maybe he still had some time to win her over. He hoped to God he did, anyway. He no longer had a vision of his future that didn’t feature her prominently front and center.
In the past couple of weeks, Ivy had been visited either at work or at home by every single male Deathridge in the county, so it shouldn’t have been surprising to her to open the front door to Clara. Clara’s men would be relaxing, it being Sunday and all. They were probably all passed out for afternoon naps with their bellies full of of Clara’s cooking and baseball games playing on their televisions.
The one exception would be Boone who was likely torturing himself over the same thing Ivy was…Pastor Allen.
Ivy had gone home not knowing where her responsibilities lie. Should she go to Boone and once more try to talk him into going to the police? Should she go to the police herself? Should she go to Richard and try to get a confession out of him?
Surely Boone’s heated words during the fight would be enough to make the sheriff look a little harder at Richard as a suspect in Molly’s murder. But the texts on Boone’s phone, if they truly came from the pastor, would be vital evidence. Then there was Ivy’s own experience the night she went to the house to check on Molly…surely she should tell someone. It terrified her to think of how close she’d been yesterday and today to the man who’d most likely given her a concussion last week.
There was so much on her mind, so much confusion roiling in her gut, that she was beginning to feel a persistent burning sensation in her stomach, and she couldn’t bring herself to eat lunch.
When Clara knocked on the door, she was frenetically moving about the kitchen, trying to find something else to clean after having tidied up post-lunch. She still had Jake’s hat hanging off the back of her neck and was ashamed to admit to herself that she had every intention of sleeping next to it in spite of the way he’d denied her that afternoon.
She went to the door and opened it.
“Mrs. Deathridge,” Ivy said in surprise.
Clara smiled sadly. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. “Is your father home?”
“Um, he’s out in the garage. Come on in. I’ll get him.” She stepped aside, inviting Clara into the living room. “Can I get you something to drink? Ice water? Sweet tea?”
“Tea would be lovely. It’s been a long time since someone served me tea.”
Ivy wasn’t sure what to make of the comment, but she went to the garage and alerted her father to Clara’s presence before moving back to the kitchen to fill three glasses with ice and tea.
“Good afternoon, Clara,” Jared said.
Ivy smiled at the sound of her father’s voice. She put the glasses on a tray and took them into the living room where Jared and Clara were seated, both on the sofa angled toward each other. Ivy sat in a chair off to the side. Everyone took their tea before Clara sat hers back down and burst into tears. She fell into Jared’s arms while Jared looked helplessly to his daughter. Ivy shrugged.
“Is it true?” Clara squeaked.
“Is what true?” Jared asked.
Clara pushed back and wiped her wrist over her eyes. “Was Gideon in love with Penny when he married me?”
Jared didn’t hesitate. “Oh, Clara, no. No, honey. And Penny wasn’t in love with him. They were two high school kids who dated for a couple of weeks. The fact is, Gideon hated me from the get-go and it was salt in the wound when the girl he was dating chose me. I doubt anything would have happened between them, it was just his pride is all.”
“I don’t think he’s ever really loved me,” Clara said. Ivy was surprised at how calmly she said it.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Jared said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
Clara shook her head. “He’s driving us all away. My boys…they’re scared to death of him. They have no respect for me, and why should they? I’ve never done a thing besides sit back and watch him terrorize them.”
Jared met Ivy’s gaze. They didn’t know how to respond or what Clara wanted.
Clara took a breath and looked up at Ivy. She smiled sadly. “That’s Jake’s hat.”
Tension drained out of Ivy’s body, and she smiled back. “Yes.”
“Is that why he hasn’t had much appetite? He’s in love with a girl?”
“I don’t know about love, but we’ve been doing a lot of fighting and making up.”
“Really?” Clara laughed. “Jake’s my peacemaker. It’s hard to imagine him fighting.”
“He’s certainly not very good at it. Mostly it’s me yelling at him and him standing there looking confused.”
“That sounds about right,” Jared said with a chuckle.
Ivy shrugged. “Got momma’s temper. Not my fault.”
“Well, I do hope you’ll give him another chance. I’ve never seen him quite like this,” Clara said.
“He’s pissed me off pretty good. We’ll see if he cares to make it up to me.”
“Oh, you must forgive him, you just have to,” Clara said, suddenly very concerned. “It’s not his fault, whatever he did. He’s a good boy, and—”
“Mrs. Deathridge,” Ivy said, laughing, “don’t worry. Please? If it’s meant to work out, it will. Jake’s a good man, like you said. If he wants me, he knows how to get me.”
Clara wrung her hands, distraught. “It’s just, I feel as though my whole world is coming apart at the seams. Myra making such vicious attacks against my family, Dallas almost dying, Boone acting crazy. I just…I’m feeling very…mortal. I’m feeling very insecure. If I knew Jake was safe, that he was taken care of, well, then at least one of my sons would be okay.”
Jared leaned forward and took her hands in his. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn. But Clara, any one of your boys…hell, all four of them, would always be welcome on my ranch. If anything happened with Gideon and he were to push them away, I’ve got more than enough work, here. I’ll be honest, I lost those two farm hands last week and I’ve been putting off hiring more because, well, it looks like the prospect of a son-in-law is becoming more likely.”
“Dad!” Ivy reprimanded.
He shrugged. “You’re obviously a woman in love, honey. And I think the world of Jake. It’s just a bonus that you’ve fallen for a rancher.”
“A rancher who doesn’t want to leave his ranch.”
“If his family will have you, then go with him,” Jared said. “Or build a house on the property borders and keep working for your respective families. There’s any number of ways you could work it out. The main thing is that you treat each other with respect and love each other.”
Ivy winced, a little, at the “respect” part of it. Perhaps she could do a little better toward Jake in that department. “None of it matters if he’s unwilling to acknowledge me in public. That’s a deal breaker.”
“Being a little impatient with the boy, aren’t you?”
“Maybe. But he’s being a coward, so it evens out.”
Jared laughed and rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Clara, you needn’t worry. If there’s anything we can do to help you and your family, just say the word.”
“Gideon would have a fit if he knew I came here. But I just don’t care. I’m so tired of working and working and nobody caring. I think if I vanished off the face of the earth, the only thought that would cross those boys’ minds is, ‘Where’s dinner?’”
“That’s not true,” Ivy said, leaning forward and squeezing Clara’s hands.
“It is, though, dear. And I don’t blame my boys, I’ve done this to myself as far as they’re concerned. But Gideon…I just don’t think he cares. He’s so entrenched in his view of things, the rest of us are just pawns.”
Ivy shared another look with her father, neither of them certain what to say. Hopefully it wasn’t true. Hopefully Clara was just going through a time of doubt and Gideon would offer her the affirmation she needed. But Ivy doubted it. What she knew of the man…Clara was dead-on right with her assessment. He’d built himself a tiny empire and was ruling with an iron fist.
Suddenly, Clara gave herself a little shake. She fished a handkerchief out of her handbag and dabbed at her eyes. When she looked up, it was with a smile for Ivy. “Come over for tea tomorrow afternoon, won’t you? I think we should get to know each other. Your momma and I were good friends for a while, you know?”
“I’d love to have tea with you.”
“Good. We’ll get Dallas settled in his house in the morning, then after I feed the boys lunch and send them back out to work, you can come over. Maybe we’ll invite Myra and give her something else to gossip about.”
Ivy laughed at this sudden evidence of humor.
After she walked Clara back out to her car, she went inside and gave her father a hug,
There was no leaving Dallas alone in his house. Clara couldn’t bear it. She set up the guest bedroom for him, insisting, even against Gideon’s objections, that her son be close at hand so that she could care for him.
After his father and brothers left, Clara perched on the edge of the bed next to Dallas and brushed the hair off his forehead. His face was turned away, staring out the window with no expression. She could only guess what he was thinking.
“It must be hard for a working man like you to be in bed during the day,” she said, thinking of Gideon and how much he’d fussed that summer he broke his arm.
Dallas let out a humorless laugh. “Actually, it’s pretty comfortable. Kind of glad for the excuse to do nothing.”
Not sure what to make of it, Clara kissed him on the cheek, and went back into the kitchen. Her men had left crumbs from their sandwiches everywhere and dirty dishes in the sink. She’d never resented it before, but suddenly she was wondering why she hadn’t taught four grown men how to wash a plate.
As soon as she finished cleaning up, she put on some water for tea and got out her prettiest set, an English teapot with pink flowers and matching cups and saucers. On the coffee table in the living room, she laid out a tray of fruit and cheese. She’d initially intended to put out cookies, but Ivy was a modern, healthy girl, and probably wouldn’t eat them. Almost as soon as she’d set the tea on the table next to the fruit, Ivy’s arrival was heralded by the sound of hoof-clods.
Clara smiled to herself. Jake was getting himself a good, solid country girl. Only a couple of weeks ago, Clara had had a different impression of the girl—always in her business clothes, the country drawl sanitized from her speech. But lately she seemed to have lapsed back into her rancher’s-daughter persona.
Ivy knocked on the screen door and came in. Such an adorable thing in a pretty sundress over leggings, cowboy boots, and Jake’s hat which she swept off her head and hung on the pegs next to the door—as though she was already at home.
“So glad you came, dear. Have a seat.”
Ivy sat with her ankles crossed. Clara was pleased to see she knew how to conduct herself like a lady. Ivy accepted her tea, squeezing in a drizzle of honey from the honey bear on the tray next to the pot.
“No Myra?” Ivy asked.
“Absolutely not. I abhor that woman. Between you and me, she still smokes pot, did you know that?”
Ivy nearly spat her tea. “Uh, no…how…?”
“I saw her make an exchange with that Kinsley boy in the alley beside the diner one day. She didn’t see me and I’ve kept it to myself, but I’m thinking of starting my own blog. It’s about time she had some competition.”
“Mrs. Deathridge, you’d be my everlasting hero if you did that. It’s time she had a taste of her own medicine. I’ll even help you set up the website.”
“Excellent. It’ll be a healthy pursuit for both of us.”
Ivy nodded agreement, and Clara took a moment to appreciate how well she was getting along with her future daughter-in-law. It was a shame the moment couldn’t last any longer.
There were no sirens, only the sound of tires on gravel and a cloud of dust passing by the windows. Clara sat her cup on the coffee table and rose to look out the screen door. “Why, it’s Sheriff Rivera. I wonder what he wants.” She opened the screen door as the sheriff approached. He was in full uniform, a somber expression on his face. “Good afternoon, Sheriff. Won’t you come in?”
He stepped inside, nodded politely to Ivy, and said, “I’m afraid I need to borrow Boone for a few minutes. I’ve got some questions to ask him.”