After mother of two Hannah Bellmont flees an abusive marriage, she seeks
to start a new life at a remote ranch in Montana where she’s sure her estranged
husband will not be able to find her. Ideal set up, right?
Wrong. Hannah has
a problem. Jake Stone, the conservative ranch owner isn’t fond of liberal
hippy Earth mother types, and disapproves of Hannah's permissive parenting
style while includes allowing her children to call her by her first name,
What’s more: Hannah gained the job through dishonesty, telling Jake she was
a widow.
It isn’t long before Hannah's liberal ways run afout of Jake’s strict
conservative style, and a woman who never believed in spanking finds herself
over the rancher’s knee.
Chapter One
Part I
Hannah Belmont’s Volvo station wagon bounced along the worn roads, frustrating her attempts to read the map she’d spread over the top of the steering wheel. Behind her, in the back seat, her son stopped bickering with his sister long enough to offer a driving tip.
“You really should keep your eyes on the road,” he said.
Hannah glanced into the rearview mirror to briefly glance the reflection of 11-year-old Lucas, his beautiful face framed by a shock of golden brown hair that fell curling to his collar. Beside him his sister, Chloe, looked out the window as she worked the ears of her stuffed dog, Pete.
A retort sprung to Hannah’s throat - one that reminded her son which between the two of them was a licensed driver - but she swallowed it and laid the map down. Lucas was exactly right, and while she knew some people frowned on precocious youth, she believed children should be allowed to speak their minds.
“I was just checking so I wouldn’t miss the turnoff,” she said. “The roads out here all look the same.”
“They look stupid.” Chloe was holding up her stuffed talk and talking “through” it, something she’d started during her parents’ separation as a way to express herself. “I don’t like it. I don’t want to go live at some stupid ranch. I want Hannah and Jerry to get back together.” Calling their parents by their first name was another way Chloe -and her brother - expressed themselves.
“Hannah can’t go back to Jerry.” Lucas handed his little sister a carob-coated peanut in a comforting gesture. “Jerry had anger issues, remember?”
Chloe frowned. “Oh yeah,” she said. “I forgot.”
Hannah gripped the steering wheel, wishing it were really so easy for all of them. When she had met Jerry Belmont in 1991, he’d been everything she’d been everything she thought he was the most beautiful man she’d ever lay eyes on. In fact, her attraction was so strong that she’d spent been caught unawares when he called on her and asked her opinion on some point he’d made in his lecture. All eyes were on her as she stood and stammered, but she didn’t feel any of them. She only felt his, and could see from across the auditorium that the attraction was mutual. After class, she made it a point to lag behind as she packed her books, occasionally glancing over to watch him interact with a gaggle of mostly female students. She was almost ready to give up on him when he came over and handed her a flier. He was a featured speaker at a rally protesting the Iraq-Kuwait war. Would she like to come?
Of course she would. And she did. Later, Jerry treated the student protestors to coffee. Hannah sat quietly by and listened as the others tried to impress the handsome professor with their impassioned philosophical views. She’d wished she had something to add, but the truth was she did not. Even then she wasn’t a political person and had only taken his Introduction to Social Action class as an elective. She rarely commented, either in the class or at outside gatherings; it gave her more pleasure to hang back and watch Jerry shine.
In retrospect she realized that was a large part of her appeal.” Sweetness and light,” Jerry had called her during their first clandestine meeting away from the others, and went on to explain that while he enjoyed the high energy and passion of the budding radicals he was seeking someone softer as a life partner.
This comment had surprised Hannah, who’d laughed and said she wasn’t looking for a serious relationship.
“Let me decide what you want,” he’d replied, and that statement had set the tone for their relationship. It had scared her a little, how comfortable she had been acceding to his every little wish, how happy it had made her to have someone older and stronger and wiser come in and direct her life while constantly reassuring her that he always, always acting in her best interest.
So until he decided to take their relationship public, he directed her to meet him in secret and act casually indifferent in class - no stolen looks, not even a brush against the sleeve. Before they did come out, he had her change schools so his job wouldn’t be at risk for having been dating a student.
Jerry never actually proposed; he just announced it was time to get married. He picked the location of their ceremony, picked the minister and even insisted on OK’ing the wedding dress. Hannah’s friends - the few she had made at college - worried aloud that Jerry was too controlling. But she’d only smiled at their concerns. Jerry was just more particular than younger men, she’d told them. What she hadn’t told them was how safe his oversight made her feel. And she’d reveled in that security, even when he put her through things she didn’t particularly agree with, such as his decision to go on sabbatical to write a book about communal living in Canada. For over a year they’d lived in various communities, where he’d pawned her off as cook, laundress - anything - as he wheedled his way into the crowd as philosopher and counselor. Hannah was sure that was when he started sleeping with other women, but she lacked the courage to question him.
Looking back now, she was ashamed. Her friends had been right; turning over so much of herself to Jerry had ended in ruin, just as they’d warned. And by the time it had he’d so isolated there’d been no one to turn to.
Hannah looked in the rearview mirror. It had been Lucas and Chloe who had given her the courage to leave. It had been for their sake that she’d started confronting Jerry about his drinking, his womanizing, the erratic and bizarre behavior that eventually cost him his position at the university.
When she’d begged him to get help, he’d railed at her for daring to question him. And Hannah realized that by deferring to him on everything she’d given him permission to invalidate her.
The kids had not seen him hit her on the day she’d decided to leave. They’d been in the other room. But they’d seen the aftermath. They’d seen the police arrive to take their father away. They’d watched as the domestic violence counselor examined Hannah’s bruised face and asked if she needed and ambulance. Hannah had declined, but knew in her heart things would never get any better.
So without a word to anyone she’d packed all that she could fit in the Volvo, cleaned out the box where Jerry kept his petty cash - the box she’d never even opened before that day on his orders - added the money to her horded allowance and left. She didn’t know if Jerry would come after her. At that point she didn’t even care.
Lucas and Chloe - both home schooled, were used to spur-of-the-moment trips, but never ones initiated by their mother. They were thirty miles out of town when Hannah stopped at a convenience store and purchased a map. When she came back to the car she explained to her children that they would not be returning home. Their father, she said, was sick. He was angry and couldn’t control his rage. He’d hurt her and was no longer safe to live with.
“Can’t he go to a doctor and get better?” Chloe had asked.
“She asked him and Jerry said no,” Lucas had replied and Hannah was ashamed that her son had overheard more than she’d ever wanted him to.
“So where are we going then? Chloe had clutched her stuffed dog tightly as she’d asked the question, her eyes wide with uncertainty. Hannah had felt a tug of guilt over throwing her daughter into so much uncertainty, and remembered reading somewhere that children felt empowered if they were part of the decision-making process.
“I’m not sure,” she’d admitted. “Where would you like to go?”
“Somewhere I can have a pony,” Chloe had replied.
Hannah had thought for a moment. “Okay, baby,” she said. “Then we’ll go to Montana.”
Part II
Three hundred forty-two miles later, shortly after hitting the Montana state line, Hannah had started picking up newspapers so she could search the help wanted ads for jobs and housing. She’d been careful to pay cash for everything so Jerry couldn’t trace her later. But she knew the money wouldn’t last forever. If she were to survive and feed her kids she’d have to have some sort of employment. The trick, she knew, would be to find something that allowed her to continue her commitment to attachment parenting, which made her an inextricable part of her kids’ lives.
She perused the ads, feeling a little stab of pain when she came across teaching positions. Over the years she’d kept her credentials current and had honed her classroom skills by teaching or substituting on occasion at the Quaker school a few miles from her house. She couldn’t take a teaching position now; that would lead Jerry right to her. And she knew after what had happened he’d come for her. During their last argument, when she’d tearfully told him she wanted to be free, he’d informed her that just because he had been with other women didn’t mean she had the right to leave him, and that he’d never accept it if she did. Monogamy was an unnatural state for men, he’d said, and she had no right to ask him to deny his nature.
“Bullshit,” she’d told him. “I’m not taking this anymore.” And that’s when he’d hit her and railed that if she did leave she’d eventually be sorry. It had been a neighbor in the next brownstone who called the police, but Jerry had blamed her and hurled accusations of betrayal at her as he was hauled away. No, she didn’t want any more of that, even if it meant taking more menial work.
It was then that she saw the little ad at the bottom of the page. Wanted: Housekeeper and cook for working ranch just outside of West Fork. Salary, housing provided for qualified person. Call 338-9724.
Hannah looked over at her children, who were sprawled on the floor of the cheap hotel room drawing pictures. She remembered how she’d hated cooking and cleaning at the communes for people too wrapped up in their own drug use or spiritual quest to ever say thank you. Could she do that again? But this was different, wasn’t it? She would be getting paid for her services. And what’s more, it would be the last place Jerry would ever look for her.
“Lucas?”
“Yeah?” Her son answered without looking up.
“Would you do me a favor and take your sister out to the creek behind the hotel? I bet if you turn over some rocks you’ll find a nice salamander or two.”
“It’s too cold for salamanders.” Lucas picked up a green pastel and began coloring the dragon he’d drawn.
“Lucas….”
He looked up. “What?”
“I really need you to take Chloe outside so I can make a phone call, OK? It‘s important. It‘s for a job and possibly a new place to live.”
Lucas stood. “You could have just said so in the first place, Hannah.” He nudged his sister with his foot. “Get up, Squirt. If you help me collect some rocks out back we’ll paint them to look like animals.”
Chloe got up. “Awesome!” Hannah was glad to see the girl smile and watched as Lucas took his little sister by the hand and walked out. He was so unlike his father, so nurturing. Jerry seemed more annoyed by the kids than not, especially Hannah. He always bragged about how academically advanced the children were due to his and Hannah’s commitment to home schooling, when the truth was that Jerry rarely helped with their lessons, even when he was home.
Through the window she could see the children walking hand in hand towards the creek. Above them, leaves untethered from their branches, swirled down around them. It had gotten colder as they’d gone further northwest. Winter would come earlier in these parts. Would she have enough money to feed her kids, to keep them warm? Had she made some mistake? Could she make it on her own? Hannah looked down at the newspaper ad, her best shot, and picked up the phone.
Part III
“Phone call, Jake. About the ad.” Frank Stone gestured towards the house with his thumb. “Want me to handle it?”
Jake Stone looked up from where he was kneeling to check the progress of a cut over the hoof of one of the ranch’s overly enthusiastic colts. “Na, I said I was going to handle the hirings from here on out and I meant it. I’m tired of people coming out here with no clue of ranch living and then bolting first chance they get.”
“Not everybody’s Nadine,” Frank said.
Jake stood, stretching to his full 6’ 4” height, his face dark with anger. “This hasn’t got anything to do with Nadine, you hear? And I’m not going to tell you again that I don’t want to even hear her name cross your lips. If I do you’re off the ranch, brother or no. You got that?”
Frank put up his hands. “Alright, alright,” he said, unwilling to cross his brother. “I didn’t mean to cross you. I was just sayin’---” His word’s trailed off as Jake fixed him with a warning glare.
“You were just sayin’ nothing,” Jake growled. “Now git while you’re ahead. I’ll be in to take that call in a minute.”
Frank beat a hasty retreat and Jake watched as the 21-year-old jogged back towards the sprawling ranch house. He felt a twinge of guilt. He knew he shouldn’t take his anger out on Frank; it wasn’t his brother’s fault that Nadine had left. I really wasn’t even Carl Hagan’s fault, although it had been hard not to blame Carl for being the type of man to take off with a woman who cared so little for her husband and son that she never even bothered to say goodbye. “I’ve had enough of this, and have left with Carl for a better life,” is what the goodbye note had said, and it hadn’t taken much for Jake to figure out what “this” was. Nadine was a city girl who had romanticized ranch life. But the isolation, the harsh winters, the company of a husband who had to put long days of birthing and branding cattle above romancing her had made her increasingly frustrated. The birth of their son Daniel had eased things a bit but soon even the child became just another thing to tie her down. Over the last few years she’d grown increasingly distant from both Jake and Daniel, resenting the way the boy idolized his father. When Hagan, a mining company representative came around looking to buy rights to the Stone land, Frank had entertained the idea as his wife had entertained the guest. Looking back, he wondered if maybe Nadine had been right about him on some level. Was he really so out of touch that he missed the stolen glances, the flirtatious gestures that signaled her attraction to this man? Could he even have stopped her anyway? Or even have known that she’d go into town one day never to return? He’d received the note by mail four days after she left - two days he’d spent frantically searching for her, even as he tried to ignore the rumors that arrived before her final confirmation: Jake Stone had been dumped for another man.
It had been hard running the ranch in the months since she’d departed. Nadine had been an effective housekeeper, even if she’d hated every minute of it. Cooking and cleaning gave her something to do, she’d said often enough, something to do to keep her from going stark raving mad.
In her absence, Jake had allowed Frank to hire domestic help. There had been three housekeepers post-Nadine, and none of them had worked out. When interviewed, they’d promised to stay but ended up treating the job as a temporary position until they could find work in one of the mountain towns or gambling casinos. After the last one had resigned - leaving dinner preparations to Jake and Frank, Jake had decided that his brother’s judgment was in question.
As he walked back to the house the wind whipping down from the mountains sent a chill through his coat. Jake pulled up the collar and looked out over the peaks. Winter would come early this year, meaning short days filled with toting hay to snowbound cattle and long nights of worrying about wolves taking the weaker ones.
The inside of the house was warm but, he noted with irritation, rather untidy. It was lunchtime, and from the kitchen he could hear the voices of ranch hands as they suffered through another meal of canned baked beans and dried beef. One of the perks of working on his ranch had always been the home-cooked meals. He worried if he didn’t get a dependable, permanent cook some of his newer workers might leave for an outfit that did.
Jake hung looked across the living room to where the receiver lay beside the phone. Pulling his coat off, he sighed and hung it on a hook by the door. He shouldn’t have to be putting up with this, he told himself. He shouldn’t have to be screening someone that would probably be another dude-ranch wannabe, someone who he’d probably decide unsuitable within five minutes, someone who wouldn’t meet the criteria he’d decided they’d have to meet.
He knew it probably was a bad idea to start an interview when he was a in a bad mood but really, what choice did he have. But has he picked up the phone he couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice.
“This is Jake Stone,” he barked. “I understand you’re calling about the ad.”
