Epilogue
“My mama was a pow-wow woman. Why, she could say the words to stop bleeding or conjure the fire right outta burns. She were a right holy woman, citin’ scripture for the power to heal. And when she conjured, she’d say, three times, ‘cause three times is important—Out fire,in frost, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.’”
“Who was that again?” Mick asked.
Jake looked up from the book he was reading aloud and considered the question for his son. “Let’s see,” he mused, counting generations on fingers. “Your great-great-great grandmother.”
“And you put her in your book, Mom?”
Amanda looked up from where she was researching Scottish folklore and smiled for her precocious seven-year-old, but it was Jake who answered.
“Mom put all of them in the book,” Jake assured the tow-head who looked just like the pictures of his grandfather on the piano. Someday Amanda would tell Mick about him. He already knew about his namesake, and now he was learning about his genealogy. “Bart and Hattie and all the first generation of Kendalls in Wyoming,” Jake continued. “Along with Willy’s ancestors from up near the Wind River Reservation.’’
Mick nodded solemnly. “That’s cool, Dad. Maybe someday she’ll write a book about us.”
“Maybe she will,” Amanda agreed.
Sooner than Mick thought. She’d already been throwing ideas off Jake about writing a modern story about a proud man with a silent handicap, of the impact it had on him and the people he loved. Jake had been all in favor of it.
It had been such hard work. There had been more strain in the first year of her marriage than in the years after she’d been orphaned. Jake was, after all, a proud man, and it tore at him to have to struggle through a children’s primer. Even with the help of computer programs, he’d fought and fumed and spent a lot of time on horseback up in the high meadow.
But Jake Kendall was not a quitter. In anything. And the first time Amanda had been able to share New York with him, had seen him order from a menu and read street signs he’d only heard of his whole life, she’d truly understood what the two of them had accomplished together. They had laughed through the whole trip, and had celebrated by testing comforters in some of the best hotels in town.
Amanda heard the back door slam and knew it could only be one of two people. Lee was currently visiting the cabin, and Clovis was due back from town.
“Boss?”
“In here, Clovis.”
“No, Daddy,” three-year-old Melissa objected from his other side. “My turn.”
“Hang in there, pard,” Jake suggested, tousling her thick, dark hair.
Amanda grinned again. Who could have pictured this that first afternoon she’d met Jake? Comfortably ensconced on the couch with his two children, his reading glasses sliding down his nose, for a moment forgetting the ranch. He’d never quite made it to sweaters and corduroy slacks, but that wasn’t something Amanda missed. Especially when jeans still looked so very good on him.
“You want to come on down for Sidewinder and Graylady?” Clovis asked, hat in hand. At the last moment, he turned a sheepish smile on Amanda. “Afternoon, Amanda.”
“Clovis,” she greeted him.
She didn’t have to say anything. Clovis understood ritual, and he’d just interrupted one of the most sacred Kendall rites. It was just a matter of whether Jake would be able to withstand the lure of seeing his best cutting stallion cover his award-winning Grayboy get.
Amanda shook her head. Sidewinder. Of all the surprises. Seven inches away from being gelded, bought from Bill Nelson as incorrigible, the horse had finally let Jake channel all that energy and rage into cattle. It had proved a more impressive find than Grayghost with Jake Kendall himself rewriting cutting horse history on the big palomino. He’d been waiting a long time to start this new dynasty.
“Clovis,” he objected, an eye to his wife, “this is reading time. You know that.”
“But, boss, I sure think she’s ready.”
“Well, Sidewinder’s a pretty attractive devil,” Jake countered. “I’ll bet she’ll still be interested in another twenty minutes.”
Clovis dipped his head in acceptance. Amanda knew Jake thought Clovis was disappointed. Only Amanda saw those sly smiles he gave her. A smoothly run ranch had become a real sparkler in the last few years.
“Daddy,” Melissa persisted, pulling on Jake’s shirt. “Now.”
“Don’t you want to hear more about the Kendalls?”
She shoved a brightly illustrated, oversized book straight at his stomach. “No. Binkleys.”
Jake huffed. “Aren’t you tired of reading about monsters yet?”
