The Italian Stallion: Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

            While Jessup went to the SUV to put the questionable purchases that he helped his sister make away, Trace wandered around the grocery store. Trace needed some time alone as she tried to shake the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.  Most likely it was nerves from going underwear shopping and talking about her lack-of-sex life with her brother...at least she hoped it was.  It took more than an hour for Jessup to convince Trace that panties are supposed to be that small and that the string doesn’t actually go up the butt, it just appears that way.  When she pointed out that he could only know that from wearing them himself, he nodded his agreement to simply shut her up and end the discussion. 

Currently, questionable bonding moment with her oldest brother aside, Trace found herself missing Diego.  Never had she missed someone before, other than her father, so this was unsettling but strangely pleasant.  Was Diego missing her? She wondered.  Did he think of her like she’s always thinking of him?  What if Jessup was right and Diego really liked her?  Could they have something more than a working relationship without sacrificing their working relationship...without disrupting things on the ranch? 

Sadly, that was a very important question in Trace’s mind. 

The ranch came first, always and forever first, but she’d be willing to put personal happiness as a close second for once.  Trace Sr. wouldn’t have had a problem with it...she doesn’t think.  Would Trace Sr. have approved of Diego?  He was very protective of his little girl, but Trace knows that Diego’s a good man—she’s never seen a horse that didn’t like him and that, in itself, speaks much for his character: horses are exceptional judges of people and character. 

The thought of Diego asking Trace Sr. permission to take her out made her smile but it saddened her heart.  Her father died before she found a man who was brave enough to knock on the door with flowers and chocolates in hand to pick her up for their first date.  And Trace Sr. wouldn’t get to walk her down the aisle and give her away to a good man, if she ever married.  It wasn’t fair, in Trace’s mind, that her father was being denied those things.  But at the same time, she found herself silently berating herself for never giving her father the opportunity to experience those things simply because she was a balls-out cowboy that couldn’t see the world past the ranch...who was too scared to embrace the real world and not just the safe one she’d always felt safe in.  Those were two regrets that she’d never get over nor forgive herself for.

“Damn it,” Trace groaned.  Now she was depressed, even more irritable, and missing her father more than she had in the past few months.  “This was a bad idea,” she mumbled under her breath, looking around the quiet grocery store.

Usually Trace calls in an order and sends one of the ranch hands to pick it up but she needed to get out of the lodge for a while, especially since Diego hinted that she needed to take it easy and put her feet up and relax.  It would be a cold day in Hell when she sat back while her brothers were running amuck on her ranch.  Honestly, she’d rather go underwear shopping with Jessup then do that.

            “TJ, is that you?”

            Trace looked over her shoulder and forced a smile for Ginny Jones, the old woman that owns the grocery store with her brother, the bitter man known as Gramps to the locals, who coincidental happened to be Dr. Hicks first ex-wife—the least terrible of the four.  “Yes, Ma’am,” she said, not really wanting to discuss anything about Dr. Hicks at the moment.  “I thought me and Jessup could do a little shopping together so I came to town for the pick up this time.  How’s the family?” she automatically asked before she could stop herself and instantly cringed.

            Ginny smiled and joined her in the cheese aisle Trace that had been snooping around in for the past twenty minutes. 

“Jessup’s here?” Ginny asked with an enthusiastic whoop.  “Hot damn!  What brought that ‘bout?”

            Much, Trace wanted to say; instead she simply shrugged.

            Ginny cocked a bushy gray eyebrow.  “He and Nancy ain’t callin’ it quits, are they?  Them two had promise and he gave up so much for that posh brat.”

            Trace shook her head.  “No, they’re good.  Expecting a child even,” she explained, not entirely sure if Jessup wanted anyone knowing that yet, but Trace didn’t share in her brother’s reservations about his Down syndrome child, the child was already perfect in Trace’s eyes, so she was going to share the good news.

            Ginny whooped again.  “Hot damn, indeed!  It’s ‘bout damn time that boy graced Montana with another James troublemaker!”

She simply nodded her agreement even though she wasn’t agreeing in the least—there were far too many goddamn James in Montana as of late, especially since all seem to be squatting on her ranch at the moment.

“I’m glad one of them damned boys came back to keep ya’ company,” Ginny went on.  “No young woman should be left all alone on a big ranch like that, especially after the accident.  How you feelin’ anyhow?  Ya’ heard Gerald died, right?”   Ginny was never known for her tact or beating around the bush.  “I reckon that means you’re gonna have to get a new doctor until ya’ get back in the saddle.”

            Trace nodded.  “I heard.  I’m sorry for your loss.”

            “It ain’t nuttin’ to apologize for,” she assured her, absently straightening up a shelf to preoccupy herself with.  “He did it to himself so it ain’t like anyone’s to blame but Gerald.  The man always was a selfish piece of work.”

            “I suppose.  I have a new doctor already,” Trace said her in an attempt to change the subject and to keep the old woman’s mother hen instincts from rearing its head.

She looked over at her, cocking an eyebrow.  “Ya’ don’t say?  And who might that be?  Ooh!  Don’t tell me, that mouthwatering Mexican that Beth was going on and on about?”

Trace struggled to keep from snarling.  “No.  I don’t know any Mexicans during this season.  But I assure you,” she said, interrupting whatever Ginny was about to say, “I am in very capable hands.  Do you have any Italian cheeses or anything that’s actually from Italy?” she asked, to change the subject.

            “Not authentic,” Ginny admitted with a pout; cheeses were not gossip worthy but a new doctor was.  “I got a recipe for ricotta cheesecake with caramelized apples that I can give ya’.  Think of it as American meets Italian with some country flavor.”

            Trace nodded; country styled apple pie is her favorite and she knows that Diego likes cheesecake so it would be worth the effort.  “I’d like that, thanks.”

            Ginny smirked, seeing an in.  “Is it for anyone I know?” she sang.

            Trace shrugged.  “I doubt it.”

            “Does this mystery man have a name?” Ginny pressed.

            Of course he did, Trace thought, but she wasn’t about to tell her it.  Ginny was the biggest gossip in the all of Western Montana.  The woman even knew when someone was pregnant weeks before the expecting mother did, with or without her ex-husband filling her in on the medical going-ons with his patients.  There was no keeping anything from the nosy woman, and as hard as she tries, Trace went out of her way to make sure that Whispering Creek Ranch business stayed within the fence lines.  And now with Diego, and the possible feelings that might indeed be developing between them, Trace was keeping him to herself for as long as possible.

            If there was something going on between us, what more would I need to seal the deal?  Sexy underwear and cheesecake...what else? She wondered.  There expensive wine in the wine cellar.  I’ve ain’t ever seen a romantic scene in a movie without candles, which I ain’t got that many of...how many do you need to set a romantic mood?  I got a fireplace, that’s always been romantic in my opinion.  My bedding ain’t silk...I hate silk...but Diego’s never complained about my sheets or quilt and he’s been on them quite a bit.  Damn it!  What else? 

            “Condoms,” Trace blurted out.                                                               

            Ginny gasped.  “Holy shit!  Ya’ finally popped your cherry?”

            Trace cringed.  “Ew, no.  It isn’t for me,” she quickly explained, her face as red as the red wax wrappers on some of the imitation Italian cheeses in front her of.  “Amy pulled a train...well, according to Jessie, so he’s having a rerelease into the wild party.  I thought it’d be nice to get him a gift that would help to control the James population.”  That was partially a lie—Trace didn’t know if Diego had any condoms or not, and if the her feelings for her were mutual sex would be the next step in her lack-of-experience.

            Ginny laughed, patting her chest.  “Goddamn, TJ!  Ya’ nearly gave me a damn heart attack.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for ya’ getting laid.  Lord knows ya’ need it, but I can’t fault ya’ for Jessie’s gift.  That man is so much like your uncles it ain’t even funny.  Jessup is like your daddy, but Jessie and the others are like the rest of the James’ clan.  With you it was always a toss up to see which way you went.  Lord knows that no one would have known what to do with ya’ if you were the female version of the rest of them James’.  But luck would have it you appeared to be like your daddy because you didn’t have an eye for anyone.”

            Trace looked at her curiously.  “What do you mean?”

            Ginny shrugged.  “Your daddy wasn’t like his brothers.  They were like Jessie, Jace, Jackie and Jake.  They ran amuck and wooed the ladies...and the men in a few cases.  Either way, your daddy got the ranch solely handed down to him by your granddaddy simply because he proved himself by marrying your mama.”

            Trace Sr. very rarely talked about Trace’s mother, Mary, so this story was unknown to her.  “Care to explain?” she asked.

            Ginny smirked.  “Why do you think that Nancy’s daddy said no way in hell was his little girl marrying a rancher?”

            “Because he’s a dick,” Trace automatically replied.

            “Well, yeah,” Ginny snorted.  “But it was more than that.  It wasn’t the rancher aspect of it.  It was the James aspect of it.  Nancy’s daddy was engaged to your mama, and when he went off to do that internship during the summer before he went to college, your daddy swept your mama off her feet and whisked her away to the hitchin’ post.”

“No shit?” Trace laughed; she wouldn’t put it past her father to do something like that—no one told Trace Sr. no

Ginny nodded.  “Mary and Trace were in love for years, but her daddy was hell bent that she’d marry someone that was refined and didn’t have the reputation that the James clan had.  They were the wildchilds of Western Montana,” she smugly informed Trace, as if she didn’t know.  “That’s partly why Trace wasn’t like his brothers, he knew that he had to be the man, the cowboy, that would be worthy of marrying your mama according to her daddy.  It didn’t help that she was knocked up with Jessup either though.”

            Trace’s mouth fell open.  “No!”

            “Yup.  Your daddy used to tell everyone, for the longest time, that he was gonna marry Mary and make her the happiest woman in Montana.  I remember when he was getting his shots at six-years-old, he announced that very thing to everyone in the clinic.  It was the cutest damn thing I’d ever seen.  Mary never loved Donald.  The pompous man practically guilted Mary into dating him, and rumor is that she didn’t actually say yes to his proposal, he just told everyone she did.  It nearly came to blows more than once but your daddy was trying to be the bigger man, in more ways than one.

“But then when your mama died,” she said, her tone soft and flooded with sadness, “your daddy didn’t know what to do.  He was cowboy, a husband, a stern father and provider.  Your mama was the one that took care of the babies; named them, reared them, and schooled them.  Your daddy trusted her with raising his boys right.  But then when she died he didn’t know what to do.  It was more than just being stuck with babies, especially sick ones...you were so damn jaundice that they had to keep ya’ in the hospital for a week and not to mention...” she caught herself and shook her head.  “Never mind that, but what it amounted to was your daddy lost the better part of him, which was your mama.  That’s why it took him a week to name ya’.  Mary always had a thing for J names but it just didn’t feel right for him to try to fill them shoes.  So, Trace being the stubbornly proud man that he was, and never looking for help or guidance from anyone or God, flipped a coin to let fate decide.  Heads would carry the name Trace James Jr.  If you ask me, it was a good flip of the coin.”

Again, that was something that Trace didn’t know.  She’d always wondered about being nameless for a week but she knew her father well enough to know that there was a reason behind it.

“Do you think he ever regretted me?” Trace whispered, absently picking at one of the price tags on a shelf. 

“No!” Ginny snapped at her.  “That man loved you more than life itself!  A day didn’t go by when he didn’t brag about you, boast because of how dang pretty you were or how you could ride bareback like an Indian at only three years old, that you could barrel race better than any cowboy he’d ever seen, could rope a wild stallion with your eyes closed, how you were the cowboy he’d waited his entire life to father and just how very proud your mama would have been if she could have seen ya’.  The only guilt that man ever had when it pertained to ya’ and the circumstances that took his beloved Mary away from him was that he wasn’t strong enough to bring everyone home.  You have to remember, TJ, that your daddy was tryin’ to raise five wild-boys all by his lonesome, not to mention a fair-haired baby girl—which was a first for the James clan—who already had him wrapped around her tiny fingers, all while maintaining the ranch, not to mention that he just buried his wife.  Anything more than that would have caused that poor man to break more then he already had.  Ya’ can’t fault him for that.”

“Of course,” Trace agreed.  “I just miss him is all,” she admitted.  “It’s been really hard since he died, and now with all of the James’ under one roof for some ungodly reason, it just makes me miss him even more,” she said and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. 

“The whole James clan is at Whispering Creek?” Ginny gasped, her mind spinning trying to figure out what was going on, because something was obviously going on and she was out of the loop.

Trace nodded and looked over her shoulder but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  The aisle was nearly empty, only a young couple with a child sitting in the front of their cart was slowly strolling towards them but she felt as if she was being watched. 

            “Is something wrong?” Ginny asked.

            “No...I just...it’s nothing,” Trace assured her, continuing to look around.  “Nancy is visiting her sister in Spokane for the week.  Jessie is being rereleased into the Montana Wilds.  Jake is nursing a broken heart.  Jackie’s on vacation and Jace is...well, he’s Jace.”  She tried to shake the feeling off but it flooded her and caused an uncomfortable knot of warning to gather in her stomach.

            “TJ,” Ginny said, snapping her fingers in front of Trace’s face to get her attention.  “What is it?  You’re really pale all of a sudden.”

            Trace chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck.  “You know when you have the feeling that someone’s watching you?”

            Ginny nodded.

            “I feel like someone’s watching me,” she said under her breath, looking around again. 

            The sound of something hitting the floor at the end of the aisle caused their heads to snap that direction.  Nothing was there but an orange bottle of Gatorade that was rolling down the aisle. 

            “Goddamn kids,” Ginny mumbled and started towards the bottle.

            Common sense would suggest that it was nothing, but the ball of nerves in the pit of the cowboy’s stomach told her otherwise.   “Don’t touch it!” Trace shouted.  “Get me a bag or something.”

Ginny looked at her curiously.

“I’m going to give it to Jessie,” Trace explained.  “It’s about damn time he did some actual police work.”

“TJ, what in the hell is going on?” Ginny demanded, using a produce bag to wrap the Gatorade bottle up in. 

Trace shook her head, trying to find the words, an excuse or a lie, but everyone knows that Trace Jr. doesn’t lie.  Everyone knows that Ginny runs her mouth more than anyone and this was Whispering Creek business....James business, and no one else needed to know.

“Just the usual,” Trace eventually said, taking the bagged bottle.  “Someone’s trying to kill me and I don’t think they’re gonna stop until they succeed,” she said and Ginny’s eyes widened.