Page 32 of Love’s Silver Bullet

No such luck.

“After all,” Blaze continued with a hip cocked to the stall and the hay twirling in his mouth, “although both you and I have bucked the idea of marriage forever, I have to admit marriage has taught me that the right woman can turn your life around for the better.”

Or the worse. Jake flipped the right stirrup and girth strap over the saddle before hoisting it over the pad. Like Sheridan with me, he mused, turning my safe, comfortable life into a constant stress. His mouth tightened along with the saddle’s tie strap when he pulled it hard. And me from a happy-go-lucky cowboy into a total grouch.

“Who the devil said anything about marriage?” Jake groused, not wanting anybody—least of all his best friend—thinking he was going soft on the subject. From the moment he and Blaze had become friends, they’d had a bond, a kinship, a do-or-die commitment to never getting married. Heck, they’d even sworn it in an oath at the age of thirteen, cutting their wrists to mingle their blood. And even though Blaze had broken that blood vow for Maggie, Jake had no intention of doing the same—ever—whether he was seeing Megan Joy or not.

He couldn’t.

His gaze glazed into a cold stare over Midnight’s saddle into the darkness of his past, where a memory too awful to share shivered both his body and his soul.

“Is it …” His mother’s voice had lowered to barely audible as she’d cast a cautious look Jake’s way, his tiny body bruised as he lay on the doctor’s table. “… hereditary?”

The fear in her voice had made the word sound like a curse, but his six-year-old mind didn’t know why. His eyelids lumbered closed, as heavy as his heart. He’d never told anyone about that day lest the fear in his soul also push people away …

And he never would.

Giving the tie strap a final tug, Jake slowly expelled a silent sigh, turning to stare at Blaze with true regret. He softened his tone, feeling bad about sniping at his best friend. “Look, I’m just hankering for a little female company from time to time, you know? Like you did with Rachel before Maggie? And I like Megan Joy well enough, so why not? Besides,” he said with a pointed look, “can you think of a better way to put distance between Half-Pint and me, than me seeing another woman?”

“As a matter of fact, no, old buddy, so that’s brilliant.” Blaze slapped Jake on the back with a chuckle before heading for the door. “And a little sparkin’ will do you good, Sul, hopefully to put the sparkle back in your eyes and a smile on your face, which has been missing for a while, you know?”

Yeah, he knew.

Blaze turned at the door to give him a wink. “So, go have some fun, my friend, but not enough to jeopardize your bachelorhood, you hear?”

Yeah, he heard. And fun? Jake grunted. “Fun” would be teaming up with Sheridan in horseshoes like he used to when she’d been just a scrawny kid in overalls from ages twelve to sixteen. Not spending time with a woman like Megan Joy, who had designs on him. Another bluster of air escaped his lips as he’d mounted Midnight for the ride into town. Fun had come so easily back then, he mused with a melancholy air, filling his days with the laughter and love of family.

He halted Midnight in front of the massive two-story Victorian a wealthy donor had left to the St. Mary Louise hospital for use as an orphanage, the sound of children’s shrieks and laughter filtering from the backyard. His gaze immediately flicked to the modest Burdzy mansion next door, separated from the orphanage by a fancy black wrought-iron fence.

He sure hoped the Burdzys would be dining outside on their back deck on such a pretty day. Either way, he was pretty sure Megan Joy or her little brother would see him giving horse rides in the backyard of the orphanage and invite him over. Which would make it a whole lot easier than calling on Megan Joy out of the blue.

“Jake’s here!” Pee-wee Portell shouted as he shot out the front door of the orphanage, unleashing a swarm of young boys right behind him. “Can I ride Midnight into the backyard, Mr. Jake, please?”

Jake grinned and shook his head, hoping Pee-wee’s announcement of his arrival would bring Megan Joy running too. “You bet, bud, so hop on up.” He reached down to haul the boy into the saddle in front of him, grateful his small stature was more in line with a ten-year-old than the wiry thirteen-year-old that he was. “Meet you boys in the back,” he called to the others as he showed Pee-wee how to handle the reins. More shrieks and hollers filled the air while the horde of ruffians stampeded around back.

Pee-wee whooped loudly when Jake galloped to the woods at the rear of the property and back several times before finally halting in front of the deck. “Whoa, boy,” he said with a chuckle, both to Midnight and Pee-wee, who was still kicking his heels to make Midnight go. Shooting a grin at Miss Mary Cramer, the sweet, silver-haired orphanage administrator, Jake carefully helped Pee-wee down. “Who’s next?”

“Me, me, me!” they all shouted, and it didn’t take long for Megan Joy’s eight-year-old brother, Wes, to pop his head out their back door. “Megan Joy, look—Jake’s here!” he yelled, slamming the door behind him as he clambered down the Burdzy’s back steps to race toward the fence, practically vaulting it to join the others. “Can I have a ride too, Jake, please?”

“Wesley Albert Burdzy—you get back over here this instant!” his mother called, standing on the back deck with Megan Joy by her side.

“No, Ma, I want to ride on Jake’s horse.” Ignoring his mother altogether, Wes bounced up and down. “Can I have a ride, Jake, please? Please?”

“Wes! You come home right this instant, young man.”

Jake glanced from Wes’s hopeful face to his mother’s stern look, and figured any boy who couldn’t obey his parents didn’t deserve a ride on a horse. Parents were one of the greatest gifts God ever gave a child, and a day didn’t go by that Jake didn’t ache with the missing of his own.

“Jake—when you’re done giving rides,” Megan Joy called, looking pretty in a pink calico dress, “we have a fresh pitcher of lemonade waiting for you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a tip of his hat, gaze homing in on Wes, who was jumping up and down like a jackrabbit.

“Hey, he’s not here for you, Burd-zee,” Pee-wee piped up, emphasizing the “Bird” sound of his name while the other boys mumbled their agreement. “Besides, you’re not welcome here, Bird-brain.”

Jake dismounted and gently gripped Pee-wee’s shoulder, his voice low. “Don’t be a name-caller, Pee-wee. It’s a dark mirror that reflects the caller more than anyone else, and that’s not who you are. So, why don’t you tell Wes you’re sorry, son.”

Hands in the pockets of his patched overalls, Pee-wee stared at his feet as he kicked at a clump of dirt, “Sorry,” he muttered.

Jake tousled his hair. “Good man.”