remembered that laugh, musical and lighthearted. She’d laughed often back then; he wondered if she did now. Seeing her even briefly brought memories of their time together rushing back. Did she remember them with fondness or pain, or at all? How long ago had her husband died and how? From this distance, she looked the same, but maybe, up close, she’d changed as much as he had.
Casey came out, closed the doors and followed Jesse’s gaze. “That’s Abby, the youngest daughter. I’ll let you settle in first, then take you to meet her and Vern tomorrow.” He nodded toward the mess hall. “Hope you’re hungry. Our Carmalita’s the most popular gal on the ranch ’cause she cooks like an angel.” He led the way to the long one-story building.
Tugging his gaze from Abby, Jesse followed.
“Vern had the cabin next to mine near the big house fixed up for you. Figured you might like some privacy, you know.”
“Very thoughtful of him.” Only how would Vern Martin feel if and when he learned of Jesse’s past deception?
Inside, Casey introduced Jesse to the men still eating, explaining why he was there. Several had heard about the Calder methods and expressed curiosity and skepticism, but Jesse didn’t say much, just that they should wait to make up their minds after he had a chance to work with Remus.
But it was when Casey took him over to Carmalita that Jesse had his first nervous moment. Six years ago, he’d spent some time talking with the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman who’d worked as cook for the Martins for twenty years, ever since her husband had been killed in an accident on the ranch. Vern had told her she had a lifetime job and a retirement when she chose to quit, but at fifty, she showed no signs of slowing down.
A dish towel draped over her shoulder, one small hand buried in a pot holder, she stirred something deliciously fragrant in a big pot on the large stove in the back room, her dark eyes looking Jesse over as closely as she might a chicken she was choosing for dinner. He noticed that she still favored peasant blouses with her long black skirt and the large gold hoop earrings he remembered. He met her gaze silently as Casey explained who he was.
Finally, she put down the spoon. “You look familiar. You got a brother?”
“Yes. His name’s Jake and we’re twins.”
“Mm-hmm. It’s the eyes, those blue eyes. He ever been here?”
“I don’t think so,” Jesse answered honestly.
“I knew another Jesse once,” she continued. At last, she shook her head. “Anyhow, welcome. Go help yourself.”
Relieved, Jesse thanked her and walked with Casey to the heavy buffet table laden with food. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he’d smelled the barbecued chicken. He took a plate, filled it and sat down at the nearest table where Casey joined him. Most of the men were finished and gone, only a few lingering over coffee.
Jesse ate silently, wondering just when Carmalita’s memory would put two and two together. He noticed that Casey had been quiet since they’d left the kitchen. Although Jesse hadn’t had very much to do with Casey back when he’d worked the ranch, he’d known the manager to be honest and intelligent. Probably only a matter of time before someone would challenge Jesse. He’d known from the start that might happen and also known that he’d admit everything and hope they’d understand. Especially Abby.
He searched his mind for a subject to distract Casey. “Is Vern Martin a hands-on rancher or does he leave most of the decisions up to you?”
Casey finished a piece of chicken before answering. “Fairly hands-on, I’d say. I’ve been working here going on thirty years, when old man Martin was still alive. That man worked like a horse, day in and day out. Vern, he don’t work that hard, but he knows what’s going on in every corner of this ranch. He talks over stuff with me, but he’s the final say-so.” He slathered butter on an ear of corn.
“And his wife?” Years ago, Jesse had found Mrs. Martin to be prickly, condescending and critical, but maybe she’d mellowed.
“Joyce, she keeps the books. She don’t go out much. Got a bad back.”
Jesse could relate. “There’s another daughter, right?” He’d been wondering where stuck-up Lindsay had wound up.
Casey wiped his hands on a napkin. “That one, she’s not a bit like her sister. Got herself engaged ’bout six months ago. Fellow from San Francisco, real nice. He stayed with us awhile, seemed to like it here. But something happened and they broke it off.”
But Jesse really wanted to hear about Abby. “So the younger sister moved back home after her husband died and she teaches kids in the little schoolhouse,” he said, thinking aloud. At least Abby had realized part of her dream. “Was her husband from around here?”
Leaning back, Casey looked at Jesse, as if debating how much to tell. “She met him at college, down in Tucson. Weren’t married but a month when he up and drowned in a boating accident. Abby came home on account of she was going to have a baby.” He shook his head. “Those girls are twenty-six and twenty-eight and still living under their daddy’s roof. Joyce is happy about that, but Vern, he’d like a couple of son-in-laws to take over the ranch one day.” He stood and adjusted his suspenders. “Trouble is, we don’t always get what we want, right? I’m going to get more iced tea. Want a refill?”
“No, thanks.” Jesse tossed his napkin onto his empty plate, then sat back thinking over what he’d just learned. Abby had never so much as mentioned anyone at college. Must have been a whirlwind romance. Or did she marry him on the rebound when Jesse didn’t return? No, they’d never discussed marriage or even love. Still, she hadn’t struck him as the type who’d quickly move into another relationship. Well, he’d likely find out soon enough.
Rising, he cleared his plate and walked outside while Casey stopped to talk to Carmalita. The sun was just sinking beyond the far horizon, bathing the hillside in oranges and yellows. At home in California, the sun usually set beyond the mountains surrounding the Triple C, nothing at all the way it did here. Jesse had never seen more beautiful sunsets than in Arizona.
Turning toward the house he was to occupy for a while, he noticed two little girls playing with a brown puppy in front of his porch. They had to be four or five, one very blond, the other with a dark braid down her back. Smiling, he walked toward them. As soon as the puppy spotted Jesse, he ran forward, all big feet and pink tongue, then rolled over onto his back, inviting a belly rub. Jesse squatted down and obliged the little guy as the two girls came rushing over.
“What’s his name?”
“Spike,” they both answered.
“Whose puppy is he?” Jesse asked as the little dog squirmed in ecstasy.
“Hers,” said the blond child, indicating her friend. “I’m Grace and she’s Katie. What’s your name?”
Pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t the least bit shy, he smiled at her as she plunked herself down in the grass. Katie sat down close to her friend, obviously a little bashful. “Jesse. Where do you girls live?” he asked, thinking the two must be holdovers from the little schoolhouse.
Grace pointed toward the big house. “I live over there and Katie lives in town but she’s staying over ’cause her mom’s sick. Where do you live?”
He couldn’t
