The High Road

By J. N. Sadler

Jean Baker lives near the boardwalk on the New Jersey Coast. Her ex-husband, Mitch, an alcoholic song-writer, is given a dream ranch in Montana by a high-ranking Mafioso. A contract is put on Mitch, who is killed by hit man, George, Jeans future business partner. Tavis MacLeak, her boss, inherits a castle in Scotland that is in great debt. He hikes to the top of the Scottish cliffs, drunk, one dark night. Jean makes a surprise visit and discovers that he is presumed to have fallen to his death on the rocks, but his life was saved by an overhanging ledge. They return to New Jersey to form a life, together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493127887

J. N. Sadler

Janet Sadler is a resident of Havertown, Pennsylvania. She has published two volumes of poetry with her illustrations: Headwinds and Full Sail and has been published in many small literary magazines. Once member of the Mad Poets Society in Media, PA, and also the Overbrook Poets in Philadelphia, she reads her poetry at local venues. She was the former poetry director at Tyme Gallery in Havertown, PA and at Baldwin’s Book Barn in West Chester, PA. She has authored thirty flash fictions novels. Twenty-seven titles have been published through Xlibris and can be found at Xlibris.com, under J. N. Sadler Author’s email address: [e-mail]

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

It was afternoon in a second-floor bungalow apartment in Seaside, New Jersey. It was plainly furnished with a few antique pieces; the rest of the furnishings were Kmart specials. Papers lay on the floor and were scattered on the round dinette table. A guitar was being strummed by tenant, Mitch Wheeler, twenty-year-old husband of Jean Baker, also in her twenties. His ankles were crossed, resting up on the table. He was slouched in the chair. A key sounded as it turned the lock, and Jean walked into the apartment with an armful of groceries in a brown bag. She dumped them on top of Mitch’s musical notations that lay strewn on the table.

He looked up, dismayed. His hair was dark and so were his eyes. He wore a cowboy hat, open shirt, white briefs, and cowboy boots. She was dressed in khaki pants and a navy blue big shirt. Her hair was short and blonde.

Hey! That’s my new song! he shouted when he saw her put the groceries on top of his music.

She stood with hands on hips.

You write one a minute. Are they good, Mitch? Do they sell? Are you serious about your dream of being a big wheel in the West? Why don’t you hitch-hike to Nashville and bunk with Dolly Parton? She pushed his feet off of the table. I have had it with you. If you’re so great, then why aren’t you rich? You’re a dreamer, that’s all. You don’t have what it takes to make things real. I want you out of here! We’re done! There was fire in her eyes. His facial expression changed from anger to hurt, to hopelessness. He jumped up to hug her. She pushed him away.

I’m singing at Club Texas tonight in town. There’s a guy there that says he will back me and even sell me his ranch in Montana! He says he knows I’m going to be a big country singer and have enough money to buy the Bar None; that’s the name of the ranch. You said you would never go to Montana, but I just know you’ll want to go, now. There’s cattle and horses, too. He even has a horse for me.

Jean looked at him with disgust. No. You go. Get schnooked by this guy. Get out! I don’t want to ever see you again!

He got down on his knees and took her hand. Please, Jeannie. It’s real this time. It’s ours.

She pulled her hand away and walked into the kitchen then, turned. It’s yours, not ours. Get up! You look ridiculous begging on your knees. I hate that! What about all the bimbos that clap for you and kiss you after your show? Go live off one of them. I want a divorce!

CHAPTER 2

It was a breezy morning on the Bar None cattle ranch in Bullwhip, Montana. Titan, a red bay stallion, was tied to the hitching post outside the ranch house. He pawed the dust and whinnied, pulling his head away, loosening the knot in his reins. His eyes were wild, the whites showing. He reared, yanking hard, gaining freedom as he galloped up into the nearby hills. Balls of sagebrush rolled past the wooden porch he’d left behind.

Mitch Wheeler, a tall, handsome man in a black cowboy hat and red shirt with a fringed V on the front, strode out the door to the bunkhouse, looking toward the dust Titan kicked up as he approached the line of fir trees on the horizon. He whistled. The stallion came to an abrupt halt and began to walk, shaking his massive head, snorting and pawing the ground. Mitch walked down the porch steps to the hitching post, lighting up a smoke. His hair and mustache were dark. The brim of his Stetson shaded his forehead. He looked up into the sun and grinned.

Titan trotted toward the bunkhouse, nodding, stumbling on a rock now and again along his way home. He whinnied and picked up speed, dragging his tether. His hooves came down heavy making loud pounding noises as he approached, blowing out air over his lips and out his nose. When he got to the hitching rail, he reared up to greet his master, Mitch Wheeler, who walked over to him and took the rope.

Titan, you and me belong together. We understand each another. Who needs a bossy woman to keep him company when I can have you?

Titan bowed and threw his head down, nodding in agreement, letting out a soft neigh, nudging Mitch’s shoulder so hard that he almost fell over backward. Mitch laughed, and it sounded like his horse did, too. He petted the front of his face where a perfect white diamond blaze decorated his otherwise sleek copper coat.

Mitch wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and asked, Was I lucky or what to get you for my mount? I guess I have Cherry to thank for that. Now she’s a fine filly, but I’m not in the market for another wife, even though I do like her apple pie and fiery chili. Let’s get you some oats and get you out of this hot sun for now. We’ll ride out to the pasture later and check the fences.

He took the dangling rope attached to Titan’s bit and led him back to the stable in the distance. Roosters strutted and chased a clucking harem of hens. Mitch pushed back his hat and squinted at the bright sun as he walked.

Jean Baker, a thirty-year old, curvaceous blonde, native to the summer resort town, undid her clerk’s apron, tucked it under the counter, and stepped around into the tight aisle in the store that led to the boardwalk.

She squeezed past racks of tee shirts with clever sayings, neon tunics, tank tops and boogie board shorts. A variety of trendy necklaces and slave bracelets hung on the wall to the right. All of the key chains with names of the zodiac or first names hung on revolving displays with shell ornaments, and flip-flops with rubber flowers occupied a space in the middle of the narrow shop. Huge beach towels were draped on the left wall with buckets and sun glasses. She came to the airy front of the store, the sun blinding her as she turned back to wave goodbye to Tavis MacLeak, the shop owner and her boss. He was coming out of the curtained back room. His white teeth gleamed in the darkness as he smiled.

Tavis was a good-looking man in his early fifties. His hair was silver-gray; his eyes were blue-green. His square jaw was lined with a trim beard, and his upper lip had a mustache. Side-burns accentuated his high cheekbones.

Jean tightened the wrap of her sweater around her middle as she stepped onto the boardwalk toward the ocean. She shaded her eyes with her hand and scanned the horizon, inhaling deeply, smiling at the clouds. Sea gulls circled in the sky, squealing and repeating their shrill cries. Some were roosting on rolling waves. Shadows fell over the boards, and lights turned on in the shops and restaurants further down. The music pavilion with its long benches awaited new summer tourists. The beach equipment was busy loudly smoothing out the sand. On the boardwalk, residents strolled up and down. Baby carriages and tattooed teens paraded by.

The late afternoon ocean breeze ruffled Jean’s hair. It blew in wisps around her face. She put on her sun glasses and walked down wooden steps that led to the beach. She wore sandals. The ocean waves crashed. She laughed to herself then turned serious. She removed her sandals and approached the wet flat sand. Her toes edged into the oncoming surf that hurried to meet the beach. Her distinct footprints disappeared as the sand soaked in the tide. She turned to look back at the shop. Its string of party lights were on, and Nathan Inger, college student, was relieving Tavis of his shift. She watched them as they exchanged words and smiled at each other. Tavis looked out to where Jean stood. She quickly turned away so he wouldn’t see her looking back, and strolled further to the water’s edge.

Tavis called out, Jean! Jean! He was coming down the wooden steps to the sand. She ignored his distant cries. He walked toward where she stood.

The wind picked up. Her bare legs had goose bumps. She looked up at the darkening sky. Tavish was suddenly behind her, tugging on a tendril of her hair. She spun around.

Boo! he joked. He looked down at her from his height of six feet, grinning, and squinted out at the sea. White curls of wrist hair rested on his gold watch. His forefinger touched her shoulder and stroked it.

She looked up into his unshielded eyes and sighed, I just love the ocean, don’t you? She grinned, hair blowing in salty curls.

Is that all you can say? Here I am on a warm ocean beach, standing with you in the sweet sea breeze, the sun going down before us…

She backed away. I’m hungry. Let’s go to Pompeii’s. She turned her head and lifted it to the darkening sky, put her arm through his, and they journeyed slowly back over the sand to the boardwalk.

Tavis said, Of course. It’s always Pompeii’s. I need oysters and an interested female.

He pulled her to him as they walked then released her. They continued walking, bodies touching with each step.

Jean answered, You don’t need oysters, and you have an interested female beside you. She smiled, showing her teeth.

He raised an eyebrow and laughed gruffly. Then, it’ll be a double shot of oysters for you, lass. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, nudging her in the ribs with his elbow.

She laughed heartily. I’ll race you.

They jogged together to the bottom step and climbed up to the boards. Once on the planks, they held hands as they turned toward the center