Christmas At Cade Ranch

“No. She’s getting stronger,” James insisted. They didn’t need outsiders poking through their business. Once they got through Christmas, Ma would improve. He’d make sure of it. “She’s been mostly keeping up with routines.”

“And that’s all that counts, right?” Justin asked out of the side of his mouth. “That she follows your schedules?”

“They keep things running smoothly,” James protested. A night wind hummed softly through the gnarled, stunted cedars they passed.

Yes. He was a micromanager. No denying it. But if he’d been more vigilant, he would have spotted the threats to Jesse, like his connections to the Denver-based drug group who’d tracked him to Carbondale, then killed for unpaid debt.

And then there was his own, more direct role in the tragedy—a failure he’d never forget—or forgive. “I’m protecting us. Plus, the schedules help Ma.”

He closed his eyes against the sudden vision of Jesse, pale and still in his coffin. They’d all struggled to make it through that day and every day since, especially around the holidays when he’d passed away.

Giving his mother direction, a routine, gave her a purpose, something positive to focus on. Seeing her wander the house, or worse, staying in bed, with that empty look in her eye as if her heart had been scraped right out, broke him in two.

“Meat loaf,” Justin said solemnly. “Yeah. That right there is a real lifesaver.”

James nudged Trigger and trotted ahead, leaving his siblings behind in the gathering darkness. They meant well, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything. But they didn’t understand the need to keep a tight rein on the ranch, the family and especially Ma. He didn’t give two hoots if they ate meat loaf. They’d lost too many Cades already. With his mother lumbering through life like a zombie, he feared they’d lose her, too, if he wasn’t extra careful. Better to worry too much than not enough, he’d learned in the hardest way possible.

He would always be vigilant in preventing negative forces from infiltrating their clan as they had with Jesse.

His brothers and sister quieted and joined him a moment later, fanning out on either side, their solid support palpable. Despite the tweaking, quarreling and outright brawling, especially Jewel and that fierce uppercut of hers, they always had each other’s backs.

The terrain grew gentler, rolling. Below, on the level floor of the valley, lay the rambling old ranch house with cabins nestling around and the corrals leading out to the soft, snow-dusted hay fields, misty and gray in twilight. A single light gleamed like a beacon.

Home.

His spirits lifted.

An hour later, showered and ravenous, he tromped up the front porch of his family’s main house. Built with rough-hewn cedar, it seemed to spring from the earth, a part of the landscape, its lines as majestic as its surrounding mountains.

Log pillars held up a steep, snow-covered portico and peaked gables broke up the roofline. Numerous windows gleamed in the dark. They must have cost a fortune when they’d been installed. 1882. The year his gold-mining, prospecting ancestor stumbled on a lucky strike that’d made his fortune and allowed him to purchase the property.

He pushed through the screen door and stopped short at the scene before him. No set table. No meat loaf. Where was his mother? She must have had another tough day. His chest squeezed.

Then his eyes alighted on his ma holding hands with a dark-haired young woman.

“James!” Ma exclaimed and stood, as did the stranger. She was slim and tall, her midnight hair a thick tangle around a beautiful face the color of a candle’s glow, her obsidian eyes wide. They shifted out from under his direct gaze, her nervous reaction instantly jangling his suspicious nature. A child stopped waving a wooden spoon like it was a sword and stared with large, unblinking eyes, as though sizing up a threat.

“Is it that time already?” His mother’s hand fluttered to her cross necklace and she twisted it. “We must have gotten sidetracked. Sofia, this is my second eldest, James. James, this is Sofia Gallardo, mother of Jesse’s child, Javi, my first grandson and your nephew. Isn’t it a miracle?”

And just like that, the safe haven he’d labored to create turned itself inside out.

CHAPTER THREE (#uf5b4362c-ec62-533f-b5d9-4cbadaa1af01)

PULL BACK. STEADY. Steady. Don’t come off the vein.

Blood rushed in the half-full syringe, curling red. Sofia held her arm still and slowly pushed the plunger. She wanted to make this last. Anticipation sizzled over her nerves.

Pull it out again. The blood swirled back inside.

Now. Squeeze.

This was what she wanted. Yes. Here it was. The rush. It flooded up her arm and tingled.

Then it hit. It was like a mini explosion of unadulterated pleasure.

Everything turned blissful and beautiful. And she loved everything. It was a pure joy to be alive, to have a body; a heavenly awareness.

The hand of God, cradling her to sleep.

Sleep.

No.

Don’t go to sleep.

Don’t. Go. To. Sleep.

Sofia lurched upright in bed, and her gasp cracked through the small, dark room. Her heart thrummed, deafening in her ears, almost painful. Was she having a heart attack?

Had she taken a bad hit?

She groped for the syringe and came up empty. Where? Where? Where?

“Mama?”

She shoved her hair from her hot face and peered at the small shape hovering by her bed.

“Javi?”

His eyes looked as big as saucers. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She hoisted him up and pulled him close. “I just had a bad dream.”

Terrifyingly real.

Remembering the good was worse than the bad.

“A monster?”

“A big one,” she said, recalling the horrible creature she’d once been—thinking of nothing, no one, but her next fix.

She rested her cheek on Javi’s head and strove to calm her breathing. Kids needed their parents to protect them, but in her case, it felt the other way around. She’d gotten sober for Javi, and because of him she stayed on the straight and narrow.

“I can sleep with you till you feel better,” he whispered around what sounded like his thumb. A flash of worry popped inside. The old habit reappeared whenever he felt stressed.

“I’d like that, sweetie. Thanks.”

Ten minutes later, Sofia stared up into dark and listened to Javi’s soft, regular breathing.