Chapter 2
Damn, it’s hot.
Sage Hammond wiped the sweat from her brow before pitching more hay into one of the horses’ stalls. Two weeks before the first day of summer, the heat in Oklahoma was spiking above average for this time of the year. It was just past 7:00 a.m., and she was already wishing she’d worn a tank top instead of one of Mark’s large T-shirts. While she’d given away most of her husband’s clothes after his death two and a half years ago, she’d kept some of his funny shirts to wear when she was missing him. Today’s navy blue shirt proclaimed, “Lead Me Not Into Temptation… Oh Hell, Follow Me, I Know A Shortcut.” It’d been one of his favorites.
Behind her, the ranch’s prize sire nickered impatiently for Sage to let him out of his stall and lead him to the pasture. Last night’s wind and torrential rain had forced her ranch foreman to bring the horses in for safekeeping. Unfortunately, it had done nothing to cool the high temperatures. “I’m coming, Gino. You know your pregnant girlfriend has to get some fresh hay and feed first.” The horse nickered again, obviously not impressed he had to wait a few more seconds so Sage could finish caring for Diamond Lil.
The one-hundred-fifty-acre Heaven’s Pastures was an Appaloosa breeding ranch and currently home to eleven mares, four of which were ready to foal within the next two weeks, and two stallions. In addition to the breeding stock, two older quarter horses were used for riding around the ranch. The other animals on the property consisted of a dozen sheep, six llamas, eight chickens, one rooster, two barn cats, and one very active border collie who kept them all in line.
The land had been in her husband’s family for seven generations as a small cattle ranch until his great-grandfather switched it over to horse breeding. Five years ago, Mark and Sage had added the llamas, which were sheared for their wool, similar to the sheep. There was a good market for the fibrous coats, and the income helped offset the sale of the yearling horses, which was normally at the end of the summer each year. Mark’s great-grandmother had dubbed the ranch Heaven’s Pastures because of the family’s cemetery at the north end of the property. Sage’s son and daughter would hopefully one day continue with the family business—if she managed to hold onto it for that long.
After finishing with the horses’ feed and water, Sage fed the rest of the animals and then collected the eggs from the chicken coop. Her cook and housekeeper, Maddie, would need them for her baking tomorrow. The next day was Sunday, and their church was having a bake sale to help raise money for the choir to attend a state-wide competition in July. Maddie Tanner and her husband, Evan, had worked for the Hammond family since Mark had been a boy. Childless, they’d lived in a small cottage on the property for close to thirty years, and Sage didn’t know what she would have done without the couple since Mark’s death.
Striding to the rear entrance to her two-story house, she heard Benji, their dog, barking out front. As she climbed the steps to the porch, the door swung open, and eight-year-old Matthew announced, “Mom, someone is walking up the driveway.”
That was odd. The ranch was six miles from town, and her nearest neighbors were two miles away. No one just walked to their place. She handed her son the basket of eggs. “Take these to Maddie, then go wash up for breakfast, and I’ll see who it is.”
The screen door slammed closed behind her as she walked through the house to the front door. Sure enough, a man was coming up the long, dirt driveway, carrying a military duffel bag over his shoulder. She didn’t recognize him, but he appeared to be in his late thirties. Dressed in worn jeans, hiking boots, and a gray T-shirt, he was about six-foot-three and physically fit. A baseball cap covered his hair and shaded his face.
While there was nothing about his posture that made her uneasy, just the fact he was a stranger had her hurrying into her bedroom. She retrieved Mark’s Smith & Wesson 9mm and its belt holster from the safe in her closet and clipped it to her jeans at the small of her back before returning to the front door. Swinging it open, she proceeded outside to the top of the steps and waited for the man to approach. Benji still barked as he joined her on the porch.
When the man got within twenty feet of the house, the dog ran down the steps, and his bark turned into a growl. Sage stiffened, but the man stopped dead in his tracks. He stood perfectly still as the dog took a few cautious steps forward, sniffing the air. “Hey, boy. Come check me out. I’m not here to hurt you or your family.”
He squatted down and let the protective dog sniff his hand. Sage’s shoulders relaxed slightly when Benji’s tail wagged furiously, and he licked the stranger’s hand. The dog had always been a great judge of character.
When the dog rolled over onto his back, the man scratched the proffered stomach, then lifted his gaze to Sage. “Hi. Sorry for the unannounced visit. I’m looking for Sage Hammond.”
Crossing her arms, she stared into his soft brown eyes. There was nothing but kindness in them—well, maybe a little bit of sadness and loneliness. She recognized it because that’s what she saw reflecting in her mirror most mornings. “I’m Sage Hammond. Who are you, and how do you know my name?”
Standing again, he removed his cap, wiped the sweat on his brow with his forearm, and then set the cap back atop his dark-blond head. “My name is Adam Westfield. I spoke with Reverend Stevens this morning, and he said you were looking for someone to help out around the ranch. I’d like to apply for the job if it’s still available.”
It was true. She was in desperate need of help on the ranch. The last two men she’d hired had both up and left without any notice. One after two weeks, the other after only a few days. She knew ranching was hard work and not for everyone, but the least they could have done was tell her why they’d left. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
He chuckled. “No, ma’am, I’m not. My New York accent gives me away every time, doesn’t it?”
Her mouth tilted up in a small smile. “It was pretty much my first clue.”
“Well, please don’t hold it against me. I’m a hard worker and a fast learner.”
“Is that so?” Even though Benji had approved of him, she still didn’t know the man. But Lord, she hoped he was the answer to her prayers. So much work needed to be done, and the heavier stuff was getting too much for Evan and her. “Tell me more about yourself, Mr. Westfield. Why is a New York drifter in our little town of Rosewood, Oklahoma, looking for a job that pays very little besides room and board?”
He shrugged and grinned, two dimples appearing on his tanned cheeks. “Why not? Everyone’s got to work somewhere, right?” When she didn’t respond, he dropped his duffel at his feet and held his hands out to the side. His smile faded. “Okay. Here’s the deal. I was released from prison several months ago, and I’m looking for a way to start my life over again.”
“Prison?” Her shoulders tensed again at his confession as a shiver of fear coursed through her. She hoped she wasn’t going to have to pull out her gun. While she wasn’t thrilled he’d been incarcerated, she did give him kudos for putting it out in front instead of hiding it from her. She didn’t know many people who would admit that to someone they just met, especially when looking for a job. “Why were you in prison?”
“Prison? That’s so cool!”
Sage swung around to see her son had been watching and listening from inside the screen door. “Matthew! Go back to the kitchen!”
“Aww, Moooom.”
“Now!”
Pouting, he spun on his heel and stomped through the house. Sage turned back to face the stranger, who hadn’t moved. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Westfield, but an ex-con is not someone I want around my children. I’m sorry you made the trip out here for nothing.”
A look of compassion came across his handsome face. “No worries, ma’am. I understand completely.” He tilted his head toward the old well in her front yard. “Do you mind if I take a drink before I head out?”
It was the least she could do. It was a six-mile walk from town unless someone had been nice enough to give him a lift. “No, I don’t mind. Just crank up the bucket. The water is fresh.”
He tipped the edge of his ball cap. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Picking up his duffel, he swung it over his shoulder again and ambled over to the stone well with Benji on his heels.
* * *
Adam dropped his bag by the well before grabbing the crank handle. Someone had oiled it recently because it turned easily. It wasn’t long before the filled bucket reached the top, and he set the brake to keep it there. Removing the bucket from its hook, he set it on the wall of the well. Cupping his hands, he dipped them in the water and then brought them to his lips. The cool water felt wonderful in his parched mouth and throat. After drinking his fill, he used more of the water to rinse his face. While Reverend Stevens had been nice enough to let him use the shower at the rectory, the walk from town in the heat and humidity had left him sweaty and grimy again.
After replacing the bucket and sending it back to the bottom of the well, he grabbed his foster father’s old army duffel and hefted it onto his shoulder. Reverend Stevens had suggested there might be another rancher not far from here willing to take him on for some menial work. Adam had been hitchhiking across the states for the last three months, taking temporary jobs wherever he found them. Then after collecting his pay, whether it’d been for a few hours or days, he would move on. Several of the people he’d worked for had begged him to stay on—he hadn’t lied about being a hard worker and fast learner—but something inside him had urged him to leave each time. He didn’t know where he was headed, but he felt something more was waiting for him somewhere. Until he found it, he would continue roaming the highways and back country roads.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ms. Hammond waiting for him to leave. Her five-foot-six frame stood rigid as her long, medium-brown hair lifted in the light wind. She was a beautiful woman, still holding onto the curves from at least one pregnancy. He may have been celibate for years, but he was still a healthy heterosexual male, so it didn’t surprise him when his body reacted to her attractiveness. Reverend Stevens had told him the woman was a widowed mother, and a couple also lived on the property while working for her.
He tipped his cap toward her. “Thank you, ma’am. You have a nice day.”
“You, too.”
“By the way, I like your shirt.”
He didn’t wait for a reply as she glanced down, probably trying to remember which shirt she was wearing. Hoofing it again, he hadn’t gotten more than a hundred feet when the sound of an engine coming up the drive, accompanied by a veil of dust, caught his attention. Ms. Hammond obviously saw it as well, and if her spat-out “shit” was any indication, she wasn’t happy about it. Stepping to the side of the drive to avoid being run over, he watched as two men in a black Ford pickup drove by. Something niggled in his brain and made him decide to stick around for a few minutes to make sure there was no trouble. Especially when he noticed Ms. Hammond pull a handgun from behind her back. Oh, hell, this can’t be good.
Tossing his duffel over the fence of the front pasture, he took a few steps back toward the house as the two men climbed out of the truck. Ms. Hammond kept the weapon at her side and pointed to the ground, but Adam felt she wouldn’t hesitate to use it if she had to.
“Get the hell off my property, Bart, or you’ll be patching up bullet holes in that brand-new truck of yours. And take your attack dog with you.”
Oh, yeah. Definitely not good. Since she was glaring at the tall man with the black cowboy hat, who’d been the front seat passenger, Adam assumed he was “Bart.” That meant the shorter driver in the brown Stetson was the “attack dog”—whatever she meant by that. Both men were in their forties and dressed in typical ranching clothes—jeans, cowboy boots, and due to the hot temperature, T-shirts.
Bart held his hands out to his sides. “Now, come on, Sage. There’s no need for the gun. I’m just here to make you another offer on the ranch. You know you’ll have to sell soon if you can’t get caught up on the mortgage with the bank.”
Her eyes went wide with shocked annoyance. “Who the hell told you that?”
The man shrugged. “You know how the small-town information mill is. Mark’s medical bills had to run over a hundred thousand—anyone with a brain could figure that out. I’m just trying to help you out. I’m more than willing to give you a fair price for the land. You’ll be able to settle with the bank and still have a little left over. If the bank forecloses, you’ll be left with nothing. Hell, you can’t even keep the hired help working for you. Nobody wants to work for the peanuts you’re paying.”
Adam stopped a few feet behind the arrogant ass and crossed his arms. “Well, almost nobody.”
Surprised, Bart pivoted around to face him. Apparently, the man hadn’t noticed him or didn’t realize he was still there. “Who the hell are you?”
“Adam Westfield. And you are?”
The rancher eyed him curiously from head to toe before answering. “Bart Sherman. I own Rosewood Hills Ranch up the road. You must be new in town.”
Behind the man, Ms. Hammond came down to the bottom step and thankfully lowered her weapon. “He is, and he’s also my new employee.”
The rancher’s eyes never left Adam’s. “Is that so?”
He wasn’t going to say otherwise. Ms. Hammond may have changed her mind about hiring him or was just saying that to get rid of the man. Either way… “Yes, sir, it is.”
“Harrumph.” Sherman put his hands on his hips. “You must be crazy to work for free or just shy of it.”
Ignoring the woman’s sputter of disbelief at the statement, Adam didn’t back down. “Well, some people may question my sanity, but I don’t. As for the pay, it’s a good thing money isn’t on my list of coveted things I need in life. I’ll take work wherever I can get it.”
“Well, don’t plan on keeping this one for long. Either Sage sells to me, or the bank will be foreclosing soon. When that happens, feel free to come over to my ranch. I’m sure we can find some work for you there.”
Movement at the side of the house caught his eye, and Adam’s gaze shifted to see an older man standing quietly but watching the confrontation with keen interest. A shotgun lay cradled in his arms. The man was probably one half of the couple who worked on the ranch, who Reverend Stevens had told him about. “I’m much obliged. If and when that time comes, I’ll think about it.” Not likely. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some work to do.”
Sherman didn’t seem very happy about being dismissed and turned back to face Ms. Hammond. “You better think real hard about my offer, Sage, before it’s too late.” With a glance over his shoulder at Adam, the man climbed up into the truck as his driver did the same. The tires kicked up an angry cloud of dirt as the vehicle did a U-turn and headed out to the main road.
Now that the other men were gone, the bravado in Ms. Hammond’s face diminished somewhat. Not wanting her to feel obligated to go through with what had been a spur-of-the-moment statement about him being her new employee, Adam walked back to retrieve his duffel. Hoisting it on his shoulder one more time, he followed the fading trail of dust the truck had left in its wake.
“Hey! Wait a minute! Hold up!”
He stopped and turned to see her running up to him. Her handgun was nowhere in sight—she must have holstered it again behind her back. In silence, he waited for her to catch up to him.
Halting a few feet away from him, she took a deep breath and let it out. “I-I’m sorry about that. You didn’t have to get involved in my crap, but thank you for doing so.”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “No worries. I hope everything works out for you.”
When he began to leave again, she reached out and touched his upper arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait. I mean… if you’re still interested in the job, I could really use the help. As Bart said, it doesn’t pay a lot, but my housekeeper is an excellent cook, and you’d have your own cabin here on the property.”
He tilted his head and studied her. While she was still wary of him, he saw something else in her eyes… hope. Lowering his duffel again, he stood tall and met her gaze. “I was arrested for killing a man who was in the process of molesting a young boy. It was a man I worked beside for many years, and I guess you can say I just snapped. I’ve regretted it ever since and will continue to do so until my dying day. While I never would’ve let him get away with what he’d done, I wish I hadn’t taken his life. I pled guilty to manslaughter and served a little over five years of a ten-year sentence. Other than that, I’ve never intentionally broken the law before, and I hope I never have to again. I guess the only other thing I should mention is I go to church every Sunday. I’d appreciate it if I could have that time off from work. If you still want to hire me, that is.”
After his first sentence, her mouth had dropped open, but she’d let him continue. He gave her a moment to digest what he’d told her and for her to decide if it was something she could live with. He would understand if she changed her mind once again.
“Um… okay. Is there a way I can confirm what you told me? I mean, I do have my family to think about.”
“Yes, ma’am. You can call the Middletown Police Department in New York and ask for Detective Shane Stewart—he should be working today. He’s not only my foster brother, but he’s also the officer who arrested me. He’ll answer any questions you have. You can also call the warden at the Sing-Sing Correctional Facility in Ossining, New York. He’ll confirm I was a model prisoner during my stay there.”
She briefly bit her bottom lip. “What about the internet or newspapers?”
“The boy’s father is the head editor of the local newspaper. He made sure the entire incident never appeared in print or on the internet. He had friends in the courts and was able to get the case files sealed. You won’t be able to access them without a court order.” He paused. “I know this makes you uneasy, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to hire me.”
“No! I mean, yes, I’m a little wary—you’re a stranger, after all—but if what you told me is the truth, then I’d be willing to hire you. On a trial basis, of course.”
The corners of his mouth ticked upward. “Of course. I can wait here if you want to make those calls, Ms. Hammond.”
“Sage, please.” She stepped to the side and gestured toward the house with her hand. “And why don’t you come up to the porch? I’ll bring you out some breakfast while I’m on the phone. It’s the least I can do for helping me deal with that jackass, Bart.”
With a genuine smile forming on his face, he dipped his head. “Much obliged, ma’am… I mean, Sage. Thank you.”
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