The Rancher's Spittin' Image

“That’s true enough...at least the part about old Wade dying.” Jesse assessed the boy a moment. “If I let you go, will you promise not to run?”

The boy nodded warily, obviously still wondering about whether Jesse was in fact a Barrister.

Jesse loosened his grip on the boy’s arms, then slowly dropped his hands. When the kid didn’t bolt, Jesse eased a sigh of relief. “I’m Jesse Barrister, now who are you?”

“Jaime. Jaime McCloud,” the boy added, squaring his shoulders proudly.

Jesse sucked in a sharp breath. A McCloud? Could he be Sam’s or Merideth’s son? Could he be... He took another hard look at the boy, taking in the cleft in the chin, the umber stain of his skin, the cowlick that kicked his hair up at the center of his forehead. No, he told himself. He couldn’t be. The eyes were wrong...no—they were just right, he realized, his heart slamming hard against his chest.

They were the same unique shade of green as Mandy’s.

Jesse jerked his head up to look at Pete, who remained astride his horse. But Pete’s jaw was set, his eyes narrowed, and he refused to acknowledge Jesse’s unasked question.

“What’re you gonna do to me?” the boy asked, drawing Jesse’s attention back to his face. To Jesse it was like looking in a mirror—or rather at a picture of himself at that same age.

“I—” Jesse had to clear his throat before he could answer. “I’m going to take you home to your parents.”

The boy’s shoulders visibly slumped.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Jesse asked.

“No, sir. It’s just that I know I’m gonna get a whuppin’ for sure this time,” he mumbled miserably.

“And who’s going to whip you?” Jesse asked, frowning, thinking that if Lucas McCloud dared to lay a hand on the kid, he’d personally make him pay.

“My mama. She’s liable to skin me for sure.”

“Does your mama make a habit of whipping you?”

“No, sir. But then I’ve never been caught on Barrister land before.”

Jesse’s frown deepened. It seemed that some things hadn’t changed over the years. The feud between the Barristers and the McClouds still raged on.

Mandy tossed the last square of hay in the manger and closed the stall door behind her. Tucking the wire cutters into the hip pocket of her jeans, she strode angrily for the barn door. As soon as she found him, she was going to have a serious talk with her son. This was the third time this week he’d missed doing his chores.

When she stepped through the barn door, she put a hand at her brow to shade her eyes from the glaring sunlight overhead. Glancing around, she looked for a sign of Jaime. Unfortunately, the only person she saw was Gabe, her foreman, who was closing the gate on the corral behind him.

“Hey, Gabe!” she called, heading his way. “Have you seen Jaime?”

“No, ma’am. At least not lately,” he added vaguely.

As she reached him, Mandy pursed her lips and folded her arms beneath her breasts. She was accustomed to her foreman and the other wranglers who worked the Double-Cross covering up her son’s escapades. “Okay, so when did you see him last?”

Gabe dragged off his battered cowboy hat to scratch at his head. “Well, I’d guess that would’ve been this mornin’,” he replied uneasily.

“And where was he?”

“In the barn, saddlin’ his horse.”

“And where was he headed?”

Gabe scratched his head again. “Cain’t rightly say, though he did have his fishin’ pole with him.”

Mandy dropped her arms to her sides and rolled her eyes heavenward. “I swear I’m going to chain that boy to the house if he doesn’t stop slipping off like this without getting his chores done first.”

“Now, Miss Mandy,” Gabe began.

“Don’t you ‘Miss Mandy’ me,” she scolded, shaking an accusing finger beneath his nose. “You know as well as I do that chores come first and it’s high time Jaime started acting more responsibly. He’s twelve years old, after all, and you and the boys have got to quit covering for him.” When Gabe dipped his chin, she let out a huff of breath. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered. “Don’t give me that hangdog look.”

Gabe lifted his head a tad, just high enough to peer at Mandy from beneath a thick overhang of bushy brows. “The boy’s just got a touch of spring fever, is all. He’s entitled to play hooky now and again. He’s a good kid.”

If missing his chores had been the only reason for her anger, Mandy might have agreed with Gabe, because Jaime was a good kid. But below the anger lay a thick layer of fear. She wanted to keep her son close to home and out of harm’s way until she knew for certain that Jesse Barrister had left town.

Hooking an arm through Gabe’s, she headed for the barn again. “I know. It’s just that—”

At that moment, Mandy heard the pounding of hoofbeats and looked back over her shoulder to see two riders loping across the pasture toward them. She immediately recognized Jaime’s sorrel mare and relief weakened her knees. She shifted her gaze, squinting against the glaring sunlight in an attempt to identify the other rider.

As recognition dawned, she dug her fingers into Gabe’s arm. “Oh, my God! It’s Jesse!”

“Don’t you worry none, Miss Mandy,” Gabe hurried to assure her. “I’ll handle this.”

Mandy stood at Gabe’s side, watching as the riders drew near. “No,” she murmured in a low voice as she withdrew her arm from his. “No,” she repeated with a shake of her head. “I need to deal with this alone.”

Though she could see that Gabe wanted to argue the point, he gave in with a sigh of defeat. “I’ll be in the barn,” he told her as he turned away. “If you need me, all you gotta do is give me a holler.”

“Thanks, Gabe,” she whispered, her gaze riveted on her son’s face. She watched as he slowed his horse to first a trot, then a walk, studying his expression in an attempt to see if he showed any signs of physical or emotional damage. But all she saw was a reddening of his cheeks and downcast eyes that spoke of nothing but guilt.

But one look at Jesse’s face and she knew that her secret was out. Dark accusing eyes pierced her from beneath the shadow of his black Stetson. Quickly she averted her gaze, focusing on her son again as the two riders reined their horses to a stop in front of her.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

Jaime kept his head down, refusing to answer.

“I caught the boy trespassing on Barrister land,” Jesse replied tersely.

Mandy’s mouth fell open. “Jaime McCloud! What in heaven’s name were you doing on the Circle Bar?”

If possible, Jaime’s chin dug a deeper hole in his chest. “I didn’t mean no harm,” he muttered miserably. “I was just doin’ a little fishin’.”

“Whether you meant harm or not, you were breaking the rules. Both the Barristers’ and mine.” She firmed her lips to keep them from trembling, already fearing the repercussions of her son’s disobedience. “Take your horse to the barn and ask Gabe to take care of him for you, then I want you to go straight to the house and wait for me there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled dejectedly and turned his horse toward the barn to do her bidding.

Mandy watched Jaime ride away, feeling the heat of Jesse’s gaze on her back. Swallowing hard, she turned to face him.

Looking at him was difficult, for he hadn’t changed much over the years, his handsome face the mirror image of her son’s. All the old memories, the conflicting emotions he’d left her with, came rushing back and she steeled herself against their sting. “I apologize for my son’s behavior and I assure you this will never happen again.”

“He’s mine, isn’t he?”