A Promise to Keep Read online

  He didn’t figure the message would ever be received, but he left one anyway. “Stay off the road in the rain.”

  He turned down the heat under the venison stew he’d picked up the night before from Bubba Bumble down in Weaver. The guy was a short order cook at Ruby’s Diner, but he kept Jed supplied with home-cooked meals for Otis. Jed could manage scrambled eggs and standard meat and potatoes, but not anything much fancier. The few times he’d tried over the years had not been successes. It was a lot easier to go to a source who knew what he was doing.

  Jed had hoped the stew—something Otis used to want routinely—would be a temptation now for Otis’s dwindling appetite.

  He left the card sitting on the counter next to the phone and went back into the other room. Otis was slumped in his chair, book open on his lap, but his eyes were closed. Snoring slightly.

  He was sleeping more and more.

  Jed moved the book to the table by the chair and Otis didn’t stir. The fire was burning well so he adjusted the intake, then snapped his fingers at the dog.

  Samson uncurled and shook himself, then followed Jed out of the room and back into the kitchen. Aside from the kitchen and living area, there was a single bathroom and a single bedroom and the entirety of the whole place could have fit into the master bedroom that Jed once shared with Tanya.

  He knew why she kept sneaking into his thoughts.

  It was like that every spring. After eight years, the memories ought to have dulled. After eight years, he’d given up thinking that they would.

  Samson followed him out the back door and his ears perked up. The shepherd mix took off running, but Jed didn’t worry about him. The dog had been with Otis longer than Jed had.

  He crossed to the shack that had been his home ever since Otis had come into his life. Otis told him it had originally been a potting shed for his mother. Apparently the concession on his father’s part hadn’t been enough to tempt her to stay on the mountain, where life was just too damn hard.

  Until Jed came along, the structure had mostly been used to shelter calves when necessary.

  Jed had shared the space with more than one orphaned calf in the years he’d been there. But he’d made a few changes.

  He had a bed on one side of the room. An efficiency kitchen on the other, where the potting bench had once stood. The bathroom was in one closet, his clothes in the other. His only indulgence where modern technology was concerned was the radio that ran under any circumstances. If the electricity went, if the batteries went, if the sunshine went, it would run by hand crank.

  Besides the radio, the appliances—stove, tiny fridge, water heater—all ran on propane. The woodstove was similar to the one that Otis had, and could heat the tiny space for a whole day on a single piece of wood. He had one lamp, a stack of his own dog-eared library books and a padded bed for Samson when the dog chose to sleep in the shack rather than the cabin.

  Ten, fifteen years ago, if anyone had suggested there’d come a time when Jed Dalloway would be content with such a simple, meager existence, they’d have been laughed out of Chicago. And Jed would have been laughing hardest.

  Even though the wind was sharp, he left the door open to clear the air inside the shack while he stuck his metal coffeepot on a lit burner. The coffee inside was just starting to gurgle when he smelled the rain beginning to fall.

  He moved to stand in the doorway. The shack was situated somewhat higher than the cabin, which meant that Jed’s view off the mountain wasn’t entirely blocked. Not that he could see anything anyway with the clouds lying over every surface like a wet blanket.

  He inhaled deeply. Unlike Otis, his lungs worked fine.

  The thought was depressing and he turned back to the stove. The days of coffeehouses and designer grinds were long over. Now his coffee came from a can he opened with a can opener and he’d reheat the boiled stuff until it was gone and then he’d start again.

  He turned off the flame and filled a thick white mug with the near-black brew. He’d even mastered the knack of pouring without ending up with a layer of grounds in the bottom of his mug.

  He was heading toward the threadbare recliner next to the lamp when he heard Samson bark.

  Sighing, he swallowed a swig of burning, bitter coffee before setting the mug aside and heading out into the rain to investigate.

  The dog barked if a cow got too far afield or if a hungry predator got too far infield. Other than those reasons, the dog kept to threatening growls and a general tendency of ignoring everyone’s plans but his own.

  A more perfect match for Otis didn’t exist.

  The rain was more spit than shower as Jed followed the barking, but still, by the time he found the dog, he was pretty wet.

  No less wet than the redhead, who was standing with her back to one of the fallen boulders where the dog had her pinned.

  “Samson,” Jed called sharply, and the dog fell back, landing on his haunches. He walked past him toward April. “You’re either crazy or desperate,” he said flatly. “Why on earth did you drive up that road with a storm coming?”

  Her chin came up. “I live in Colorado,” she said crisply. “We have storms there, too.”

  “Yeah, well, this is the side of a freakin’ mountain and it’s pretty damn easy to go off the edge.” His words were drowned out by the sharp crack of thunder. He gestured sharply. “Come on.” There was no way she could drive back down the treacherous road now.

  She started forward, carrying her briefcase under one arm and some sort of padded carrier in the other, giving the dog a wide berth.

  He sighed impatiently and relieved her of both. “Samson won’t hurt you. Watch your step. Rocks are constantly rolling and they’re slick to boot. Don’t want to turn an ankle.” Or worse.

  He led the way to the cabin. He had no desire to have her in his shack. She was already memorable enough.

  They went in through the back into the kitchen. “Sit down,” he told her, dumping her stuff on the small table. “I’ll get you some towels.”

  She swiped her hand over her hair, slicking it back from her face. Her eyes, blue to start with, were deep and clear like sapphire. “Thank you.”

  Otis was still sleeping. Jed didn’t disturb him when he retrieved the towels from the dryer wedged into the bathroom and went back into the kitchen. April’d pulled off her coat to reveal a white shirt that was soaked through.

  “Looks like you wasted your money on that coat.” He dumped the towels on the counter, keeping the smallest one for himself. They were old. Thin. But they’d do the job. He dashed it over his head and face.

  “To be fair, its main selling point besides inexpensiveness was warmth.” She plucked at her blouse, which at least meant he couldn’t so clearly see the lacy outline of her bra beneath, and leaned to one side to rub her hair between the folds of a towel. “Not water resistance.” She sounded breathless. “This is just not how I pictured this afternoon going.”

  “You didn’t picture the rainstorm?”

  She straightened and draped the towel around her shoulders like a cape. Her hair was messy. Tousled. And her sapphire eyes were snapping. “What a sense of humor you have.” Her slender fingers flicked over the water-spotted leather briefcase. “I suppose Mr. Lambert still isn’t available, either.”

  Jed held his finger to his lips. “Listen.”

  Her eyebrows pulled together, creating a line in her otherwise perfectly smooth face. He wasn’t entirely sure the red hair didn’t come out of a bottle, because she didn’t have a single freckle on her strikingly beautiful face. “Listen to what?”

  “Shh.”

  She pressed her lips together. A faint dimple appeared in her slightly pointed chin.

  Then she obviously heard it.

  Otis’s snoring.

  Her frown cleared. Her lips relaxed.

  “I’m not waki
ng him up,” he said in a low voice.

  She looked insulted. “Did I ask you to?” She lifted the corners of the towel around her shoulders again and rubbed at her hair. “The opinion you have of me must be really spectacular,” she murmured.

  It was just as well she couldn’t know what his thoughts were where she was concerned. His emotions had died along with Tanya and the babies, but that didn’t mean everything else about him had died.

  “Here.” She stopped messing with her hair to mess with the padded carrier. “Courtesy of my grandmother.” She slid out a foil-covered rectangular glass pan. “Strawberry-rhubarb cobbler. She seems to think a couple of men on their own would be in need.”

  That was an appetite he could appease.

  “Thanks.” He controlled the urge to get out a fork right then and there. “Otis will enjoy it.”

  “And you?”

  He smiled slightly. “Maybe.”

  She rolled her eyes a little and moved the pan from the table to sit it on top of the cold stove. “It’s still a little warm.” She whipped off the foil and gave him a look. “In case that’s of interest.”

  “Subtle.” He opened a drawer and got a fork. Remembering that he wasn’t entirely a caveman, he got out small plates, as well. “You?”

  “Oh God no. I hate rhubarb.”

  “Sacrilege.”

  She smiled and quietly slid out one of the table chairs to sit.

  He scooped up a healthy portion of the dessert. She was right. It was still warm.

  He pounded down half of it standing right there beside the stove before he could speak. “My compliments to your grandmother.” He set the plate and fork on the table and sat down across from her.

  She was plucking at her wet blouse again.

  He ground his molars together for a second, and then exhaled. He got up and went back to the bathroom. He pulled open the dryer and shuffled his hand inside until he found a suitable shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

  He took them back to her. “Here.” He dropped them in her lap. “Bathroom’s through there.” He jabbed his thumb. “Try not to wake up Otis while you’re at it.”

  Her lips parted. He could read the thoughts forming on her face.

  “You’re not leaving anytime soon,” he said. “It’s not safe. Not until the clouds lift at least. Considering the sound of the rain—” He didn’t bother finishing because the rain was an audible drumroll on the roof.

  She still debated it. Silently. But then she stood, the clothes bundled at her waist. “Through there?” She nodded toward the doorway.

  There was no danger of her getting lost. “Yup.”

  She sucked in her pale pink lower lip, then left the kitchen. She was walking gingerly, obviously being careful to be quiet.

  He let out a long breath, rubbing his hand down his face when she was gone.

  * * *

  The faded black T-shirt hung halfway down her thighs and she had to roll up the long sleeves. The ugly green sweatpants were too long too, even after she folded over the waistband twice. But they were clean and warm. And far preferable to her wet jeans and cotton shirt.

  The washer and dryer were right there, jammed against the wall next to the sink and the door to the dryer was ajar. She peeked inside. Heart pounding as if she were sneaking around doing something she shouldn’t, she pulled out the mound of clothes inside the dryer and pushed her wet things inside. A quick twist of the dial and the dryer began softly tumbling. Then, because of that guilty feeling, she started to shake out the items she’d removed, thinking that she ought to at least fold them.

  The theory worked well enough through three long-sleeved shirts and two short-sleeved. Obviously Jed’s. All soft and faded from who knew how many washings. When she reached a pair of gray boxer briefs, however, theories burst in a puff and she dropped the underwear like a hot potato. Feeling flushed, she left the stack of folded shirts on top of whatever remained and, boots in hand, padded quickly back to the kitchen.

  She couldn’t avoid seeing the emaciated, white-haired man slumped in a rocking chair near the woodstove as she went. But he was facing away from her and she was glad.

  There just seemed something wrong about being there while he slept, unaware that she was even under his roof. It felt unfair. To him.

  In the kitchen once more, she pulled the swinging door shut, then sat down across from Jed. His plate was empty.

  “I don’t feel right being here,” she told him quietly. “Not like this.”

  He lifted a brow. “Because?”

  She exhaled. “Because, because I don’t know! Like I’m taking advantage of the situation or something. This isn’t a fair negotiation.”

  “You need more than one party at the table for a negotiation.”

  “Exactly.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed. It made the scar near his mouth shine more whitely. “Look.” His brown eyes snared hers. “When he is awake, he’s not going to negotiate. Trust me on this, April. I’ve tried to get him to sell for the last two years. Ever since it was obvious he wasn’t going to get better.”

  She moistened her lips. “I know it’s none of my business, but—”

  “Cancer,” he said succinctly. “Invasive and unstoppable.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He looked away. “Yeah.”

  His expression was so carefully blank, it was heartbreaking.

  She closed her hand over his arm and felt heat center in her palm and zing right up her veins. The last thing she wanted to be was attracted to him, but pretending she wasn’t was getting harder by the minute. “Jed. I know this isn’t easy. Does he... Do you know if he has a will?”

  “He doesn’t talk about it.” He was silent, and for a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to say more. “Knowing him, I doubt it,” he finally added.

  She realized he was looking at her hand on him as he spoke, and she quickly pulled back, curling her fingers into her palm. She wondered if she should warn him that there might be a relative of Otis’s. Someone who’d inherit the property if Otis really hadn’t made other plans. Wondered, too, if Jed already knew.

  Which just made her feel even more like some sort of circling vulture.

  She rose restlessly and hitched up the sweatpants when they wanted to slip down her hips. She moved to look through the small window situated over the sink. The rain was still coming down in sheets, but she could see the two sheds she’d noticed the first day she’d come up the mountain. She didn’t see the horse.

  She turned and leaned back against the sink. It was an old-fashioned thing. Porcelain-covered cast iron, with drain boards attached on both sides. The kind that people nowadays paid thousands for to achieve that whole “farmhouse” look.

  The stove was somewhat more modern, but still looked like it was out of the fifties. There were no true cabinets. Just open shelves on the wall and below the wooden counter. A threadbare stretch of beige fabric hung in front of the ones below, but it was pushed aside, as if it were a nuisance, but not a big enough one to just take it down altogether.

  She looked up from the messy collection of old bowls and foodstuffs. “How old is this cabin?”

  “You’d have to ask Otis.”

  Old enough to be of historical value? If so, that might be one way of protecting at least the cabin, regardless of who ended up with it after Otis was gone.

  She heard a chest-rattling cough from the other room and winced.

  Without a word, Jed got up and pushed through the door. It swung a few times, then stilled. Despite the age of everything, those hinges were oiled and silent as could be.

  It was still pouring rain, but she pushed open the back door anyway and stepped just outside. A paltry effort to allow the ailing man as much privacy as she could.

  She was still standing there when Jed returned and pu
lled open the door behind her.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  She moved past him to the table and swiped the mist of rain from her face with the towel. She opened her briefcase and pulled out the preliminary proposal that Gage had drawn up before sending her to Wyoming and set the glossy covered presentation on the table.

  “Feel free to read that yourself,” she invited. “Nothing in there is set in stone, obviously.” She spread her hands. “Maybe most of the ranch proper could be excluded.” Gage had never said such a thing, but he wasn’t entirely unreasonable. “This cabin, for instance. Otis and his, ah, his assignee could remain here for as long as they wanted. Keep back enough land to run the cattle and still benefit from the sale of the rest. Whatever was in Otis’s mind when he reached out to my boss? He simply needs to tell us what that is, and I believe Gage would do what he can to make it work.”

  Jed’s face was still painfully expressionless. “Anything for the deal.”

  She had no answer to that. “You might like thinking otherwise, but something is going to happen with this land. Sooner or later. There are too many natural resources here for it to be simply ignored. At least read the proposal. I’m, um, I’m going to go now.”

  “You can’t drive on the road in these conditions.”

  “I won’t drive,” she assured. “I can wait out the rain in my car.” She gestured at the door. “The clouds are beginning to lift. It won’t be long. And I really don’t feel right staying here. When Mr. Lambert is up to meeting, I’ll come back.”

  “You are crazy. It’s cold. Wet.”

  She pulled on one boot then the other, hopping around slightly as she did so. “I have a tank full of gas and a good car heater. I’ll survive.” She picked up her wet coat and replaced the towel around her shoulders with it. She waved her hand toward the dessert. “Save some for Mr. Lambert. Happy...happy Easter.”

  Then, before she could let common sense override the instinct for escape, she grabbed her briefcase and hurried out into the rain once more.

  She was drenched and shivering all over again by the time she made it past the wooden barriers and the boulders.