Saving Amy Jayden Page 8

  “And what’s the plan?”

  “I talked with Angel’s dad and we went to see the manager. He said if I could come up with fifty percent, he’d give us a few weeks extension considering the issues on the ground.”

  “And how much are we looking at?”

  She was quizzing him like he had something to hide. “I talked to your dad’s accountant and we were able to arrange some payment for—”

  “And all that behind my back.”

  “Amy, can you drop this? You’re grieving and you don’t need the extra stress.”

  “I’m not dropping it.”

  He rose. “Your choice. I’m not going to sit down here and argue over things we could talk over nicely.”

  Her face crumpled but she regained herself. She turned and walked away. “Amy?” She stopped but didn’t turn.

  Nevada walked up to her. He tilted up her chin. “I’m not trying to keep anything from you. You had too much to deal with and I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sniffed. “I want to do something.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Amy. And you will have plenty of time to do things. Let’s get you to Sam. The interment is tomorrow. You need all your strength.”

  He could sense her shaking. She needed rest. He didn’t like this dry-eyed grief, wasn’t sure which was better. But he knew girls cried when they were unhappy. He wished she would, instead of keeping the hurt in.

  THE NEXT MORNING, NEVADA took in the solemn faces of those who stood in front of the barn that served as the meeting area. Angel’s father stood beside his wife who was seated under the shade of the big oak.

  The Doyles’ were there too and all the ranch hands, fifteen of them. Amy sat crying silently, flanked by Mel and Sam. Despite her blotchy red face, she looked stunning in the black dress she wore, her hair flowing down her back.

  The reverend droned on about the good life Anthony had lived. At funerals, eulogies were said which sometimes were not the truth, maybe because no one wanted to speak ill of the dead, but everything the good reverend said about Anthony was true. None of them would say the man had treated them badly.

  “No matter what we do on earth, only that which we do for the Lord shall stand. Jesus said, ‘Inasmuch as you did it to the least of these ones you did it for me’.”

  Nevada examined his heart and his motives for everything he did. As he stood in that cool morning breeze—even nature seemed to know that there was mourning in the air—he surrendered his heart to the Lord again asking God to help him.

  The casket laid open. Everyone passed and laid flowers as a mark of their deep respect. The last part of the interment was done in silence and then everyone converged to the barn for light refreshments.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked Angel’s mom.

  “Mostly fine, just a little tired.”

  Nevada hugged her. “I'm glad you’re doing okay. The color is back in your face.”

  “Thanks, son. We need to pay our respect to Amy before we head out.”

  Pastor Rodriguez engulfed Nevada in a hug. “Keep your eyes on the Lord, son. You’ll need that in the next few days because everyone will be relying on you,” he said and they were gone.

  Angel must have told his dad all that’d been going on.

  Feeling sullen, Nevada walked towards the calving lot.

  AMY'S HEAD POUNDED from so much crying. Her cheek muscles ached from trying to keep up the smile she didn't feel like, yet gave everyone.

  Mel had left for the airport immediately after Amy’s dad had been buried. She needed to catch her flight back to LA. Her departure further plunged Amy into whatever it was she seemed to be falling into. She also needed to call her boss, but couldn’t summon the strength just yet. Feeling bereft, she sat on the sofa and accepted the condolences from people who didn’t make the funeral.

  Sam was overseeing refreshments for their friends. Though she should be out helping, she couldn't will herself to do anything. The poor woman had baked for the better part of the night in preparation for today and all Amy did was mope.

  Worse still, she seemed to have alienated Nevada with her display last night. She looked around wishing her father would walk in and say it was all a lie.

  There was a slight knock and an elderly couple walked in. Angel's parents. Sam had introduced them when they came for one of the services. She got up and pasted a smile on her face.

  “I'm sorry for your loss,” Consuela said coming to hug Amy.

  The tears that clogged the back of her throat threatened to break through. Would she ever be able to stop crying?

  The woman looked frail, not like the first time Amy met her. Had Consuela been sick? “Thank you,” Amy said trying to keep her voice steady.

  The tall man so much like Angel gave his own condolences. Obviously, a man of few words. They left shortly afterwards.

  After about half an hour, when nobody else came, she assumed everyone had left. She came into the kitchen and met Sam washing the dishes and cups that’d been used. “I know I should be helping you out, except that I just can't get...” She choked on the words.

  Sam’s eyes filled with compassion. “Don't worry, Amy dear. No one is expecting anything from you.”

  She nodded swallowing past the lump in her throat. “I'll be out back then.”

  “Okay. I'll get into town briefly to pick up a few things. I’ve used up everything in the house. If you need anyone, Nevada will be out somewhere. You can reach him on the phone.”

  Amy nodded again and stepped out.

  She wasn’t his responsibility. He had things to do.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “WHERE’S AMY?” NEVADA asked as he came in behind Sam.

  “Maybe in her room. I haven't checked.”

  He nodded and sat on the stool beside the worktable. He dragged one of the grocery bags in and pulled out a cold pop. “Can I have one of these?

  “Sure. Pass one to me.”

  Shaking some of the condensation from the can, he opened it and took a swig. He sighed as bubbly coldness trickled down his throat. Nevada closed his eyes and ran a hand back through his hair.

  “I need to check on Amy.”

  “Go ahead,” he said getting up. He took another pull of his drink and started to unpack the groceries. Sam came back almost immediately.

  “She's not in her room.”

  His hand stilled and he turned slowly to face Sam, his head inclined. Concern marred the woman’s features. “She isn't in her room?”

  “No.” Nevada took a look at his watch. Four p.m. Where could she be? Another day just two weeks prior flashed in his mind. What if she wandered off the ranch? “Where do you think she'd be headed?”

  “She went towards the back of the house earlier. I thought she would’ve returned in my absence. You could check the new barn first.”

  “All right. Please keep your phone handy. If she's not there, I won't come back here. I'll alert you. You can reach Angel and Diaz at the maternity barn.” He didn't wait for a response as he turned on his heels in the direction of the barn. If she wasn't there, he'd check the grave site. God please keep her safe.

  He rounded the bend, walked into the barn, and almost tripped over her legs.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. She was fast asleep, her neck in an awkward position. Had she been here since the funeral? He had not seen much of her after her father had been laid to rest. He thought she’d probably gone to her room. Had she even eaten anything? He hunched down and pushed her hair from her face. Damp tendrils were stuck to her cheeks.

  Away from the sun, her skin felt cold to touch. Nevada sighed. Lifting her gently, he was careful not to jar her even though he doubted she would wake up to anything. She snuggled close and sighed. Nevada’s breath whooshed from him in response to the innocent act and fast on its heels was pity for the woman in his arms.

  He strode in the direction of the house, marveling at how light she felt in his arms.

  Sam
must’ve seen them through the kitchen window because she came to the door and let him in.

  “She hasn’t eaten all day.”

  Nevada nodded. He thought as much. Maneuvering up the steps was no easy feat. He pushed open her door and getting to the bed, he knelt with one knee and laid her gently on it. She turned to her side and continued sleeping. Days of sitting with her father through the night had taken their toll.

  Nevada removed her boots half expecting her to wake, but she didn't. What woman did this to herself? No food or rest all day, she must be bone weary. He took the stool beside her bed and sat down. Before he could analyze what he was doing, he reached out, flicked the hair from her face and rubbed a few strands between his fingers. Soft. He took his hand away and let his gaze roam the room.

  He’d never entered here, only the master bedroom on occasions when Anthony asked to see him there.

  Grief took Nevada by surprise. He missed the man. Pushing the feeling away, he took in the whole room. There was nothing frilly-girly about her room. A table and chair sat under the window overlooking the artificial lake.

  Except for the rose water perfume that hung over the room like a curtain, you'd doubt it was a girl's room. His brows met northward. What did it say of the woman? Sophisticated, yet practical. On the other hand, if one considered the near masculinity in the room, it showed something else. Did she love being in control?

  “Is she still sleeping?” Sam's voice came quietly at the door and Nevada started like someone caught red-handed with meat from the soup pot.

  Nodding, he stood and rubbed his hands on his jeans. He slipped past Sam and went out. The girl was stirring a myriad of emotions in him, emotions he'd refused to analyze. Was he ready to let himself be vulnerable or feel that kind of pain again?

  THE NEXT DAY, AMY STAYED cooped up in her room. It was easier that way because everything on the ranch was a reminder of her dad. She wondered how she got to her room last night and came up with only one logical explanation. Nevada.

  Her phone rang. Eric.

  She accepted the call.

  “Mel told me. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks.” Her throat tickled again. “I’ll need some more time to tie up loose ends.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Sure.”

  When the call ended, she switched off the phone.

  A knock sounded on her door. Amy frowned. Who would that be? Sam? “Come in.”

  The door opened and Nevada stuck his head around it. “Can I talk with you for a sec?”

  Amy nodded.

  When she reached the door, she leaned against the jamb, holding the knob in her right hand.

  His hazel eyes regarded her. Amy fought the flush that made its way up her neck. She was sure she looked a sight—her hair not having seen a comb in two days. All she had the strength to do was bathe and throw on some clothes.

  “I was thinking of something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you up for a little ride? I want to take you somewhere.”

  Amy closed her eyes.

  “It won’t be long. Promise.”

  “All right.”

  He smiled. “Grab a jacket and meet me in the kitchen.”

  Ten minutes later, they had their horses saddled and rode into the evening. Nevada carried a basket in front of him, but she didn’t ask what was in it. The sight of food nauseated her. Even hunger pangs couldn’t lure her to eat.

  Amy wrapped her jacket tighter. The frigid air mimicked the chill in her heart and reminded her that her father was gone forever. The best thing was just to sell off the place, make sure Sam and everyone was well settled and get back to her life.

  When they reached the edge of the ranch, Nevada dismounted, setting the basket down. Amy climbed down too.

  He offered his hand. Amy slipped hers in it and loved the way her small hand fit into his.

  Nevada led her to the small creek. It had thawed. This was one place she had loved to come with Dad. And Mom too, when she was alive. They’d had several picnics here with friends.

  “This is my favorite place. I love to come here when I need to think and pray.” He chuckled. “Not often, with the work that needs to be done.”

  “My parents and I used to come here—” Amy’s throat closed.

  Nevada turned her around and held her. “God didn’t create us in isolation for a purpose, so we can offer each other strength, support.”

  “I don’t deserve anybody’s help.” She tasted the salt of tears.

  “Don’t say that, Amy.” He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. “None of us deserves anything God ever gives us. But He gives it anyway.”

  He thumbed away her tears then held her again.

  The thumping of his heart soothed her, his arms feeling like a shield against the onslaught of the emotion she struggled with.

  Amy wrapped her arms around him and held while she cried. “I’m supposed to be strong.”

  “You are. You lost your dad, so we understand that you don’t feel like having company, don’t feel like eating. But you’re strong and will be fine.”

  After what felt like forever, he set her away. “I need you to eat a little food. And don’t say no.” His voice was firm even though his eyes were gentle. He smiled and chucked her on the chin.

  Amy gave him a wobbly smile.

  Nevada grabbed the blanket from the basket and laid it on the bare ground. He handed her a shawl to keep her warm then set the plate of enchiladas in front of her. Pouring some orange juice in a glass cup, he set it beside the food.

  Her stomach rumbled and Nevada smiled. “Sam said it’s your favorite, so let’s see you do justice to it.”

  “You’re not eating?”

  “No. Eat as much as you can.”

  Amy dug into the food. She sensed Nevada’s gaze on her and looked up. Their gaze held and everything seemed to come to a standstill.

  He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re beautiful, Amy.”

  Her face flamed. Was he flattering her? When she looked in the mirror, all she saw was a stranger. “Thanks,” she choked out. “And for yesterday.”

  “Don’t give it any thought.” His knuckles brushed her cheek, lingered a few seconds then dropped away. “Eat up, so we can head back.”

  Swallowing, she nodded. Was she falling for Nevada?

  Chapter Sixteen

  LIFE ON THE RANCH HAD lulled into routine during the days following Anthony's funeral. Nevada went to the construction site to talk to the workers. He had less than three weeks to come up with money to repay the loan to keep the bank from taking over the ranch.

  How did it come to this? Anthony must’ve had plans, but Nevada didn’t have a way of knowing now.

  He talked with the lead guy and then walked into the completed cabins, moving through the rooms. Lord, my heart trusts in You and I am helped. I won't give up, help me trust You as You show us the way through this.

  They’d stop work until the loan was settled. While they were at it, he needed to come up with a plan fast so that everything wouldn't fall through.

  He stepped out into the sunshine and went through the other cabins. When all this was over, he'd have not a single doubt as to how God brought them through.

  He turned toward the ranch and glimpsed a red sports car in front of the ranch house.

  Did Amy have a visitor?

  As he came closer, he noted that whoever owned the car was nowhere in sight. Discarding his boots at the door, he went into the house. Voices came from the den. He felt propelled towards them. Whatever this was about, it wasn’t a social meeting. After a quick rap, he poked his head through the door.

  Nevada took in everything in a quick snap. The ranch ledgers lay opened between Amy and an older man.

  Nevada frowned.

  So soon? Her father had only been gone one week and now this? “What's going on here?” he asked coming fully into the room.

  “Nevada, meet Mr. D
ylan. He's a property agent. Mr. Dylan, this is the ranch's foreman.”

  She said 'the ranch' like it was nothing. Nevada took the proffered hand and then turned to her. “Amy, can I talk with you for a second?”

  “After I’m done here. It won’t take long.”

  “Amy, it's just a week—”

  She closed her eyes. “Please, don’t say it.”

  “Anthony wouldn't want you to do this,” he tried again.

  “So, you think you know my father so well?” she asked.

  Did she think this was about him? What memory would be left of the man who had built his life on this? Nevada knew she'd sell eventually, but just not this soon. “Can we talk about this?”

  “Nevada, I’m glad you like this place and want to keep it going. But once I get a buyer, I'm selling. If the new owner wants you to stay on, that’s fine.”

  “Amy, you think this is about me?” He kept his tone even.

  She came to stand in front of him, arms folded across her chest. “You tell me. It’s really frustrating talking to you when you won’t put your thoughts into words.”

  “I think you should talk about this,” Mr. Dylan said from where he stood, a few steps away from them.

  “Mr. Dylan,” Nevada gave him a small smile. “The ranch is not for sale. At least, not yet. I think there’s been some misunderstanding.”

  “That’s not the impression Ms. Jayden gave me.”

  “How about we get back to you?” Nevada asked, his gaze on Amy. Her nostrils flared. He expected her to contradict him.

  Papers rustled behind them.

  “Just go ahead with what you have and give me a call,” Amy said.

  “You two should talk it over and, Ms. Jayden, give me a call.”

  “What’s this about, Nevada Logan?” She asked the moment the older man left. Her eyes stared daggers at him.

  “Amy, what do you know about labor? Nothing. If you’re selling a year, maybe six months from now, I'd have held my peace. Do you have no respect for your father's memory?”

  She flinched and Nevada gentled his tone. “Talk to your dad’s lawyer. I don’t have any right to stop you, but I’d think you would want to wait a little longer.”