the door together, he gave his father a mocking glance. "Are you sure you remember how to round up cows?"
"I know it's been awhile, but I think I can handle a few ornery steers," his father said, chucking him in the arm.
He grinned and threw his arm around his father's shoulder. He suddenly didn’t feel so glum anymore. Maybe there could be a chance for him and Jacie.
§ Chapter Ten §
Later that afternoon Jacie walked through a dense growth of pine and came upon a small clearing. A woman sat in the tall grass with an easel in front of her. She turned as Jacie's boots snapped pine needles underfoot. It was Myra Wright.
"Hi." Jacie halted. "I didn't see you. I don't mean to intrude."
"Don't be silly, stay." Myra put out a hand, multiple bracelets jangling on one slim arm. "The sun has gone down and it was that last minute of sun I was trying to catch. I'm through for the day."
Jacie glanced at the canvas admiringly. Myra had done a credible job of depicting the fading brilliance of the day across the mountains. Looking at the picture, she could feel the silence and vastness.
Myra retrieved brushes and paint tubes and she knelt to help her.
"Actually, I'm glad you're here, Jacie. I could use help carrying the easel." The older woman rubbed her hands. "When I hold the brush for very long, my arthritis bothers me."
"I'd be glad to help."
When everything was stowed in a pack, Jacie slung the pack over one arm and picked up the lightweight easel. "Can you carry the canvas? I don't want to smudge it."
"Yes. My car is over there." The older woman indicated an area behind a thick growth of trees.
"You drove?" she said with surprise.
"It's just a narrow track, but Sloan keeps it graded so my car doesn't have any trouble. He knows I love to paint while I'm here."
"Have you always painted the ranch?"
"My goodness, no. When I lived here, I was too busy...accounts, the farm, raising two boys. Everett encouraged me, but I never seemed to get around to it."
They placed everything in the small gray car.
"Will you ride back with me, Jacie?"
"Sure, thank you."
They settled themselves in the car. She watched Myra competently reverse the car.
"Are you out walking?" Myra asked.
"Just getting back. We did a jump this morning and then I decided to go for a walk. This area is kind of awesome." They left the clearing. "Do you miss living here?"
"Yes. Life may have been hectic, but it called to something in me." Myra shook her head ruefully. "It's different now. We've adapted to our new life in Maryland."
"I suppose it's easier to adapt if you're born here. Sometimes it seems so isolated."
Myra laughed like a young girl, her face lit with amusement. "I was a city girl, Jacie, just like you. I'd never lived in the middle of such isolation as it was then. When I found myself in between jobs, I came to visit a friend, Miriam Wright, Sloan's mother." She sighed. "Miriam was so much fun to be around, the life of the party, almost desperately seeking out adventures. Miriam always said the worst thing she could do with her life was be boring." Myra shook her head sadly. "Miriam never really grew up."
Troubled, Jacie said, "But she had Sloan and a husband, surely―"
"I loved and envied her, most people did. She was easy to love, but she didn't stick around. After Sloan was born, she went back to her partying ways. Everett loved her desperately, and in her way, she loved him also." Myra’s face changed and grew sad. "I believe everyone is capable of one truly grand love in their life. Everett is mine. Miriam was his. We both knew it...I knew it going into marriage with Everett, but I loved him regardless. We have a good life. We married a year after Miriam died. Sloan was almost nine, he needed the stability."
She could sense Myra loved Sloan dearly. Sympathy created a lump in her throat, sudden understanding hitting her. Did Sloan think she jeopardized her life by jumping out of planes just for the risk of doing it? She grew up in a skydiving family, she went into it naturally, but she wouldn’t deny she had always liked the thrill, catching that first updraft of air.
"Sloan doesn't take risks. He regards my jumping out of planes as a foolish gamble."
Carefully, Myra pulled her car into a parking place by the lodge