Wyoming Winter

She turned and looked up at him. “Why?”

“He doesn’t talk about it,” he said. “He let something drop, just once, about a family that adopted him when he was ten. A man and wife, up in the Yukon. She was a teacher. So was his mother, so maybe they knew each other or something. Anyway, he lived with them for a while. Tragic thing, there was a fire. Both of them died. J.C.’s been alone for a long time.”

“He has you,” she said.

“We’re not that close,” he replied. “You can’t get close to him. He doesn’t trust people. He doesn’t share anything.” He frowned. “I know how you feel. Maybe that could change,” he added when he saw her pained expression. “Just don’t let him hurt you, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“He had this really bad experience with a woman. He didn’t tell me. I heard it from one of the guys he taught with overseas, who was in basic training with him. She was a call girl. He didn’t know. At that time, he’d had very little to do with women and he was naive. He fell head over heels for her. Then he heard her talking about him to another man, laughing at how he’d bought her so many fancy things and he thought she was innocent. She said she’d worked at that pose for years, because so many of her paying customers liked it. J.C. went wild. They said he wrecked a bar and put another man in the hospital afterward. When he left the military, the guy said, he was so different that he hardly knew him anymore,” he added quietly. “He’s had some knocks.”

“Poor guy,” she said softly.

“So forewarned is forearmed,” he added. “J.C.’s attitude toward women changed after that. He’s no playboy, but he does have women.”

She ground her teeth together. She’d suspected it, but she was learning things about J.C. that were very disturbing. “A lot of men are that way. Aren’t they? They still get married and have families...”

“Don’t count on it,” he returned. “J.C. does a job that invites violence, haven’t you noticed? He heads up security for Ren’s ranch, and he goes overseas all the time to help train policemen, in areas where insurgency is high. He likes risk. That doesn’t mesh with grammar schools and birthday parties, sweet girl.”

She was feeling sicker by the minute.

Rodney saw that and winced. “I know how you feel about him,” he said in a gentler tone. “That’s why I’m saying these things. You already know that Daddy doesn’t move with the times. He lives in a fantasy world of happy-ever-after, because he and Mama had that. It doesn’t work that way for most people. We take what we can get and move on.”

“You mean, we enjoy what we can and don’t look ahead,” she said in a hollow tone.

“Something like that.” He drew in a breath. “Colie, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just want you to know what you’re up against. J.C.’s my friend. But you’re my sister. He doesn’t respect women. Not anymore.”

She moved her shoulder restlessly. “You think I shouldn’t go out with him.”

He hesitated. There were reasons why he wanted to keep her away from his best friend that had nothing to do with her well-being. J.C. was a stickler for law and order. Rodney was into some very bad things. J.C. knew that he used drugs, and it was why they didn’t spend as much time together as they had overseas. He knew other things about Rodney that he didn’t want his father finding out, too. J.C. wouldn’t rat him out because he didn’t know what was really going on. But his baby sister would, if she had any inkling. He needed to prevent her from becoming close to his friend.

On the other hand, he cared about her, in his way. “Honey, you do what you think is right,” he said after a minute. “I’m on your side. Whatever you decide to do. Okay?”

She hugged him impulsively, her cheek resting on his chest so that she missed the agonized look on his face.

“Thanks, Rod.” She drew back. “Daddy said he’d always be here for me, whatever happened.” She looked up. “He thinks I can’t resist J.C.”

“No woman can resist him, if he wants her,” he said. He caught himself and clenched his teeth.

“It’s okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “He likes variety, they say.”

“He does, now,” he replied. “Before, that guy told me, he was Mr. Conventional. That changed after the call girl took him for the ride of his life.”

“Somebody should give her a taste of her own medicine.”

“Women like that don’t feel anything, honey,” Rodney told her. “They’re cold as ice inside. A woman who prostitutes herself usually does it because it’s easy money. Maybe there are control issues, as well. It gives a woman power over a man, when she sells a service.”

She just nodded. It was a world she’d never seen.

“Maybe you’ll change J.C. back to the way he was,” he said gently. “Who knows?”

She smiled. “Right. Who knows?” She sniffed him. “Honestly, Rod, you reek of smoke...!”

“My buddy from Jackson Hole came up to visit. He’s staying at a local motel. I have to go see him tonight, so I’ll be late. Very late. We’re talking to another man he knows, from the West Coast.”

She frowned. It sounded odd.

“Hardware store business,” he said quickly. “It’s samples of tools.”

“Oh! I see.” She laughed and turned away. She missed Rodney’s quickly erased look of guilt.

* * *

J.C., AS SHE’D SUSPECTED, was wearing jeans with hand-tooled boots and a long-sleeved blue plaid shirt and a shepherd’s coat. He smiled when he saw her pretty but casual clothing.

“I hoped you’d realize it isn’t a formal date,” he chuckled. “I should have said so.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” she assured him. “I read minds.”

His dark eyebrows arched.

“Really,” she said, green eyes sparkling.

“If you say so,” he returned. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yes.”

Her father came out into the hall, glanced at J.C. and smiled. He had a book in his hands. “Have fun. Don’t be too late, Colie, please?”

“I won’t, Daddy.” She kissed him. Even though he smiled, there was concern in his whole look as he turned back to his study. He hadn’t said a word to J.C.

“Daddy’s not comfortable with people,” Colie defended him when they were settled in J.C.’s big black SUV headed for town. “It’s funny, for a minister, because he has to be available to his congregation when they need counseling or comfort.”

“I noticed.”

“It isn’t that he doesn’t like you.” She was trying valiantly to explain something that wasn’t really explainable.

He glanced at her and smiled. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Don’t sweat it.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

“Do you like fish?”

“Oh, yes. Fried, poached, grilled, any way at all. Do you?”

He chuckled. “I grew up in the Yukon. There are lakes and rivers everywhere. My grandfather taught me to fish when I was about four years old.”

She noticed that he didn’t speak of his father, and she recalled what Rodney had told her. “My grandfathers were both dead when I was born,” she said. “I only had one grandmother living, and she died when I was in grammar school.”