Chapter 9 Jack
JACK
Seb
Killed anyone today yet?
Jack
Nah, but it’s only 10 a.m. Got the whole day ahead of me to rectify that.
Seb
You know you’re always welcome at Mercy River. Plenty of work for you to do here.
I was living the dream.
A horse beneath me and nothing but wide-open blue sky above me. The sweet smell of the Colorado mountains in springtime. Birds chirping, bees buzzing, cows lowing. Men I respected by my side.
This had always been my plan. Join the military, have the adventure and purpose I craved, and—when the time was right—return home to Aspen Springs, settle down with a family, do cowboy shit at Lodestar Ranch. Now here I was, doing exactly that. Living the dream. My dream.
I was bored out of my fucking mind.
I stared out at the valley. Hundreds of cows, doing cow shit. Eating, mostly. Occasionally wandering to another part of the pasture to eat some more.
Spring was calving season at Lodestar Ranch, which meant all hands on deck.
Even Brax, who was employed by Lodestar as an attorney rather than a ranch hand, was here helping.
Lodestar’s main business was breeding and training quarter horses, both for ranch work and showing, but they kept a small herd of cattle to train the horses and for beef, if there was a surplus.
I also suspected there was more than a little nostalgia in the decision, as well.
Lodestar Ranch had been in the Hale family for generations as a cattle operation before Ted Hale, who had been like a surrogate father to me, switched to horses.
Horses. Cattle. I wasn’t sure there was much of a difference in the mind-numbing sameness of it all, to be honest. I almost wished I was a cow. I’d still be in this damn field, but at least I’d be happy about it.
“Jack!” Adam’s voice cut through my thoughts with thinly veiled exasperation. “Did you hear me?”
Normally he reserved that tone for when his son, Ben, was testing his patience. He’d been even worse before James came along, but he was still a grumpy bastard. If Adam were a cow, he’d be the kind with horns. Ornery, like Maya said.
That tone would have had Ben hustling, but I—not being a twelve-year-old boy—took my time giving him my attention. It wasn’t like the cows were going anywhere.
“What’s your favorite dinosaur?” I asked him.
He stared at me like I really had turned into a cow.
His jaw ticked, like he was physically clamping down his irritation at dealing with me.
I wished he’d let it out. He’d never held back before.
Now everyone tiptoed around me like I was one minor inconvenience away from a total mental breakdown, even the Hale brothers. I fucking hated it.
“Why the fuck are you asking me about dinosaurs?” he asked with strained patience.
“It’s a T-rex, isn’t it.”
“Brontosaurus, as a matter of fact.”
I was taken aback by how quickly he had an answer. “What’s that? Do they have horns?” I asked.
“Nah. They’re the long-necked ones. Traveled in herds.” Adam leaned on his pommel. “They remind me of horses.”
“Velociraptors are my favorite,” Brax said, steering his gelding over to join the conversation. “Clever girl.”
I knew what dinosaur he was talking about, thanks to the movie reference.
All through middle school and high school—when Brax, Essie, and I had been an inseparable trio—we watched a movie together ever Friday night, and one of those nights had been a full Jurassic Park marathon.
We still communicated through movie quotes to this day. It was like our own private language.
“Why are you smirking like that?” I asked. “It’s creepy.”
“Because I know you’re not going to like what I say next.”
“Then don’t say it.”
“Oh, but I’m going to.” His smirk widened into a shit-eating grin. “I like velociraptors because I’ve always had a thing for brats. Taming them is a particular hobby of mine.”
“I hate you,” I muttered.
“Yeah, but your sister loves me, and that’s the most important thing.”
I would have offered to make my sister a widow, but Zack, the youngest of the Hale brothers, loped between us.
“What the hell is going on here?” Zack demanded, pulling his mare to a stop. “I’m busting my ass out there, and the lot of you are standing around yapping. I don’t fucking think so. What are we gossiping about?”
“What’s your favorite dinosaur?” Adam asked.
“You know, that’s a good question.” Zack rubbed his chin. “I’d have to say the pterodactyl. Imagine seeing one of those swooping over the Rocky Mountains. That would be cool as shit.”
What the fuck. Everyone had a favorite dinosaur but me?
“How the hell do you all know so much about dinosaurs?” I demanded.
They looked at each other and shrugged. “Ben,” they chorused.
“All right,” Adam said. “These cows won’t vaccinate themselves.” The cows had already been vaccinated for scours four months ago, but now that they were two or three weeks away from giving birth, they needed a booster. “Zack, you’re with me. Brax and Jack, go west.”
He looked at us. “Ready?”
“Hell, yeah.” Zack grinned, excitement radiating off him.
He looked so damn awake. Like he couldn’t wait to get down there with the cows and do his job.
They all did. Even Brax, who had never wanted the cowboy life, was grinning.
Hell, the horses were starting to prance in place and toss their heads.
They knew we were about to work them, and they were fucking eager for it.
Why couldn’t I be like that? Just do the fucking job and be happy about it.
I was an ungrateful asshole, because I looked at those fields stretched out before us with all those fucking cows, and it felt like I was digging my own grave.
“What’s your favorite dinosaur?” I asked as Janie slid a beer to me across the bar top.
Janie eyed me suspiciously. “Did Maya tell you to ask me that?”
Over the last week, it had become the best part of my day, this quick hour I spent at the Painted Cat sandwiched between working at Lodestar Ranch and Sweetie Pies. I’d grab a single beer, and we’d play a round or two of cards, if she wasn’t too busy.
“No, but she asked me mine and wasn’t too impressed with my answer.”
Janie laughed. “She didn’t like mine, either. I told her I liked the one from Jurassic Park that spit venom, and she said it wasn’t even real and I should know better than to trust what I see on TV.”
“Well, she told me the T-rex was basic.” It still rankled, honestly.
“I didn’t even care about the T-rex before she said that.
It was the only one I knew. But I looked it up.
” I took a swig of my beer, then wiped the foam from my mouth.
Her gaze tracked the movement, pupils dilating slightly. I pretended I didn’t notice.
I was getting good at that, pretending. Pretending we hadn’t fucked on a snowy night six months ago. Pretending I wouldn’t give my left nut to do it again.
“Apparently, the T-rex was smart as hell,” I said.
“Sure, they looked a little funny, with that big ass head and puny little arms, but they had giant brains. They hunted in packs like wolves. So, you know what? Hell, yeah, the T-rex is my favorite dinosaur and I’m standing by that. Tell Maya that for me.”
“Sure,” Janie said with a roll of her eyes. “Should I add a little neener-neener-neener and blow a raspberry, too?”
“She called me basic, Janie. I’m not basic.” I leaned forward. “I’m exceptional.”
“Please don’t ask me to respond honestly to that. Your ego doesn’t need stroking.” She rolled her eyes again, but her cheeks pinked up.
Damn. I would have given her the password to my bank account to hear her thoughts out loud. My ego didn’t need stroking, but something sure did.
She propped her forearms on the bar in front of me with a conspiratorial grin and tapped the back of my hand with her index finger. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Jack. Maya doesn’t give a shit about dinosaurs.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” Janie nodded. “Maya cares about three things. Amphibians are her one true love. She also likes Princess Diana and flags, but not with the same intensity, and sometimes she forgets about Di altogether. The days when I don’t have to listen to ‘Candle in the Wind’ on repeat, those are good days.
Anyway…” Her voice trailed off with a little shrug.
“Yeah, she doesn’t care about dinosaurs. ”
“Then why did she ask me what my favorite dinosaur was?” I asked. I pictured her serious gaze studying me and shook my head.
“It’s how she relates to people, I guess.
” Janie glanced around the room, noted the lack of clientele, and moved to the cabinet where she kept the cards.
“When she wants to be friends with someone but doesn’t know how, she asks them about dinosaurs.
I honestly don’t know where it came from, but somehow she got the idea that everyone loves dinosaurs.
She’s not wrong, that’s the thing. It works a lot better than trying to talk to people about frogs.
People really don’t have much to say about frogs. ”
She dropped the pack of cards on the bar between us, her lowered gaze obscured by the dark sweep of her lashes.
But I could see tension in her jaw and the firm press of her lips.
Someone had hurt Maya’s feelings, and Janie hadn’t forgotten that.
I had the sudden feeling that I wasn’t going to forget it, either, and I hadn’t even witnessed it.
I wanted a name and an address so I could rectify whatever wrong had been done.
“She likes you,” Janie said. Her dark eyes shifted back and forth between mine, like she was searching for an answer there.
“I like her, too,” I said honestly. Mostly what I felt these days was annoyance. Boredom. Maybe a little bit of anger when people made their petty problems my problem. But I didn’t feel that way about Maya or Janie. I felt…curious. Interested.
“Good. Because we can’t be friends if you and Maya don’t get along.”
I tipped the bottle to my lips. “We get on just fine. She’s wrong about the T-rex, that’s all, and I need you to tell her that.”
“Real mature, soldier.” Janie rolled her lips together like she was holding in a laugh.
“Not a soldier,” I reminded her.
“Oh, right. You’re a cowboy now.”
Cowboy. It didn’t feel right, having that title directed at me. It didn’t fit. I jiggled my knee. “Yeah,” I said gruffly.
Janie studied me, head tilted, all that pretty copper hair tumbling over her shoulder. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”
All I could muster was a grunt. I didn’t want to say the words out loud. I didn’t want to be another whiny asshole venting his stupid problems to the hot bartender.
“Jack.” She lightly flicked my knuckles.
“I get to watch the sunrise over the mountains every morning. I spend the day on horseback—which I love—in the fresh air. I work with people I care about and respect, and they’re good to me.” I stared into my beer. “Nothing to complain about.”
“Hm.” She fidgeted with the cards but didn’t shuffle. “I get that. You have everything. A thousand people would trade places with you in a heartbeat, but they’ll never get the opportunity. It feels ungrateful to say that this amazing life that you’re so fortunate to have is maybe not for you.”
The way she was able to so clearly articulate what was in my head made me look up. Her expression was open and curious. There was a softness in her dark eyes, but it wasn’t pity. She looked at me like she cared. More than that, like she understood.
“Is that the voice of experience?” I asked.
She squinted at me quizzically. “I can’t tell if you’re being facetious.”
I squinted right back at her. “What do you mean?”
“Jack.” She sank her hands on her hips. “You know my last name is Belmont. As in, Belmont Ranch and Cattle. You know my family has more money than they could spend in five lifetimes. Are you honestly going to sit here in my bar and tell me you never once asked yourself why I was serving drinks instead of…oh, I don’t know…
literally anything else? I thought tier one operators were supposed to be observant. ”
“Your bar, huh?” I muttered into my beer, mostly to cover my shock. Because no, it had never occurred to me to wonder why Janie Belmont, of all people, was slinging drinks at a dive bar.
She pursed her lips. “Yes, Jack, my bar. Where I work. I understand that your best friend owns the place so you think it’s yours, but I’m the boss here. Not you. But my point is that I expected better of you. Pay attention, Jack.”
I loved that she was giving me shit right now.
No one gave me shit except Essie, and even she had eased up since I’d come home for good.
Everyone in this town either fawned over me like I was some kind of hero, or they were scared of me.
But Janie didn’t fawn over me, and she definitely wasn’t scared of me—even though she was the only one who actually had a reason to be.
My eyes locked on hers. “I’m paying attention now, Janie. Tell me why you work here.”
She stuck her tongue out like a bratty child. “Well, now I don’t want to.”
This time, I didn’t pretend I was looking anywhere but right at her. “That’s okay. It doesn’t have to be today. We have time.”
Days, weeks, months, years. For once, the thought of it didn’t fill me with dread.
Because time meant more time with Janie.