Page 64 of The Cowboy Takes A Bride

Seconds later, his mom screamed, “Oh my God, Wes!” in a voice so frightened his heart skipped a beat. Without care or consideration for his wounds, Jace ran to the cabin, though the heartbreak in her shriek told him he was already too late.

27

For Pop's funeral, the city shut down as the good folks of Bison's Prairie said goodbye to one of their own. Jace watched the grave diggers––one of whom he went to high school with–– lower his father's casket into the ground.

For the preceding three days before the funeral, an endless line of well-meaning locals cycled through their house bringing food, flowers, and stories of Pop's that were so inflated they could be called tall tales. Listening to them only made the painful throbbing in his chest ache more. This was a wound that would never heal, no matter what they said about time's potency. The open space in his heart created when Pops died could not be stitched closed.

Meredith slid her arms through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Do you want to be alone?”

Wasn't he already on some level? It was now up to him to make all the decisions on the ranch. To carry out the ideas of his father and to do so without said visionary to guide him. Jace looked over at the big house. His mother and sister were on the porch talking with others. They put up a good front, but he couldtell they were holding it together with duct tape and spit. Much like he was. Of course, he had Meredith, too.

"I'm okay. Let's go help out Mom and Willow.” Following one final look, he nodded to his father's casket then walked with Meredith to the house.

They fed what seemed like hundreds of people, and by early evening Jace could no longer ignore the pounding in his head. In the kitchen, he found the aspirin and choked down dry two pills. Then he leaned against the island to catch his breath, wishing coffee would magically appear. Or a large tumbler of whisky.

A tall, older, balding man came into the room. He was dressed in dark dress pants and a polo. Jace knew his type. Corporate. Right down to his suede shoes. He’d dealt with them during auctions. This guy looked like he enjoyed playing hardball. He also looked out of his element.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” the man said and pointed to two glasses drying by the sink. “May I?”

“Be my guest.” Jace sunk into a stool. “I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

The man pulled from his pocket a flask and poured two fingers of gold-colored liquid into each glass. He handed one to Jace. “I’m Marcus Hanover, Meredith’s father.” He extended his hand.

Jace straightened and stuck his hand into the older man's. He didn't see any resemblance to Meredith. So this was the guy Meredith was running from. She had thought life with a stranger was better than staying with her own blood.

He should kick him out. Trouble was, Jace was in no shape to do that.

“Does Meredith know you’re here?” He wondered what she thought of her two worlds colliding.

“Not yet.” Hanover gestured to the stool next to him. “May I?”

“Sure.” Using the tip of his boot, Jace pushed the second stool to him.

When Hanover sat, he did so with a weary sigh. “I’m sure you don’t have a good impression of me. If I were to go by Meredith’s perception, I wouldn’t have one of me as well.”

Jace waited. He wasn’t about to make him feel good or bad about what had transpired between him and Meredith.

Hanover nodded. “I’d like to explain my actions from my perspective.”

“Your side of the story.” Jace sipped the whisky, a rich and smooth full-bodied spirit that spoke of money.

Hanover sighed. “When I met Meredith’s mother, she was the same age Meredith is now. I was older, established, and set in my ways. I will never understand what she saw in me.” He smiled sadly. “I grew up with demanding, cold parents so being the same was all I knew. Until Rebecca. She showed me it could be different. It sounds stupid, but I’m an old man whose daughter wants nothing to do with him, so I’ll just say it—Rebecca added color to my life. When she died…” He shook his head, his thumb running the rim of his glass. “When she died, everything went dark again. And Meredith paid for that.”

“You should tell this to Meredith.”

Hanover shook his head. “She won’t hear it. Why should she?” He swiveled to Jace, intensity winging his brows. “You have to understand something. Meredith is all I have left. When she disappeared, it was like losing her mother all over again. I can’t lose her. I won’t survive it. Did she tell you how her mother died?”

Jace nodded.

“I almost lost Meredith then, as well. For weeks I watched her struggle on a ventilator, and I promised that, should she live, I would do everything in my power to protect her. I was the luckiest dad alive when I got that second chance, and then one dayshe disappears. I was relieved beyond measure when the private investigator found her. Thought I'd keep my eyes on things until I heard about your bear attack.”

“Your daughter saved my life.”

Hanover pressed his lips and shook his head as if trying to erase the image. “I try to imagine her being in that situation and...” He tossed back the remainder of his drink. “Please understand that I can’t lose her. You want to protect her as well, don’t you? Help me protect her. Tell her to come home with me. I can keep her safe there.” His words were urgent and pleading.

Jace was weary and standing at the crossroads. His father was dead, the deal he and Meredith had struck was now null and void, yet the last thing he wanted was for Meredith to leave. She fit in here. “She’s my wife. Do you think I can’t protect her?”

Hanover looked at his chest as if he could see through the suit Jace was wearing to the wounds underneath.

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