Home to Wind River

by Lindsay McKenna

  Jake’s mouth thinned and he looked away for a moment. Turning his head, he met her eyes. “PTSD does that to a person. I have it, too.”

  She almost laughed but didn’t because this was such a serious topic in their lives. “You don’t look like anything or anyone could knock you over, PTSD or not.” She saw amusement for sure, this time, in his green gaze. It made her feel more trusting of him, though she didn’t know why.

  “My wranglers call me Bear.”

  She laughed a little. “Seriously? That’s a good nickname for you. You’re like a mountain!”

  “Well, it’s not exactly a nickname without reason,” he cautioned her. “I’m pretty gruff and not PC at all, and you’re going to have to get used to that.”

  “I was in the military. I know the type.”

  “I like your pluck, Lily. I’m sure Jenna will, too. Where’s your truck parked?”

  She allowed his compliment to soak into her, desperate to be welcomed by Jake instead of being considered a petri dish to be studied. “Over there, the blue one,” and she gestured toward it.

  Two wranglers galloped by on horseback, and both lifted a hand to Jake, who returned the greeting.

  The place was busy!

  “We’re parked next to each another,” he said, brows raising.

  It was a huge parking lot and at least fifteen trucks were there. Lily fell into step with him. “What are the chances?”

  Jake grunted but said nothing. He was looking around, keeping an eye on his wranglers and the duties they were carrying out.

  Lily’s pickup was older, and she pulled the driver’s side door open. She saw Jake giving the truck a once-over. It had some scratches, the paint dulled by sun, weather and years. The truck next to hers looked like a brand-new Dodge Ram three-quarter-ton truck. It was huge, like its owner. After she slid in, Jake gently closed the door.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  Lily smiled nervously, her hand trembling as she took the key out of her purse. Follow Jake Murdoch, eh? Those words were heavy with many meanings, she realized as the truck purred to life. Follow me.

  Well, okay, she would. But she wasn’t a yes woman. Her pluck, as he put it, was real. She might be suffering PTSD, but she was no pushover.

  As she watched Jake ease his massive truck out ahead of hers, she followed at a reasonable distance. Lily got the sense Jake was curious about her. And he saw her as fragile. Well, that was true, but she’d never allow it to interfere with helping Jenna or caring for her. She wondered if Jake realized that. Over time, he would, and yes, she’d have to prove herself.

  Would Jake be sufficiently impressed with her skills and abilities working with his mother? That was the important question, and not one Lily could answer.

  Chapter Three

  June 2

  Jake tried to squash the burning need that unexpectedly surfaced within him. Hell! Why did Lily Thompson look so helpless and vulnerable? What was it in him that had him pulverized the moment he drowned in her wide blue eyes? No good would come of his reaction; he needed to focus on Jenna. Not Lily. He’d expected Maud might find some middle-aged woman, married, who lived in the area, to take care of his mother. Not an attractive young woman who seemed at one moment as fragile as glass and the next plucky. He’d absorbed her résumé, curiosity driving him. Very sure PTSD had all its claws into her, it would explain her porcelain skin, which looked this side of pale. Despite that, she stood straight and proud, and she wasn’t afraid to give as good as she got.

  So? Why did he want to see her as someone to be protected when she clearly was able to handle her symptoms and still do a credible job for his mother? Rubbing his chest while he scowled, he kept the truck moving at a slow speed, even though they were on an asphalt road. He noticed Lily wasn’t driving too close to him, which was smart.

  Jenna, he was sure, would love her. But then, his mother loved everyone. He didn’t. There were reasons for that, too, but he didn’t want to dig into them. Let the past remain buried in the past. Rounding a curve was a hill covered with evergreens. At the base was the two-story cedar log house. His house. He never called it a home because, frankly, he didn’t spend a lot of time there, especially from May through September. It was pretty sterile inside, he’d been told by Maud on more than one occasion, who’d hinted it could have a cozy, lived-in look. He wasn’t very homey, he supposed.

  The two-story cabin stood out far enough away from the tree line, free of any brush that might turn it into a blaze during a wildfire. In front of the cabin, a hundred feet away, was a huge, spring-fed pond. There were a few white-and-black-granite boulders near one side of the shore, the area surrounded by lush Wyoming grass that was shooting up now that winter had finally released its grip on the area. He checked his watch as he turned into the driveway, the sunlight glanced across the long, oval valley. The sky was a light blue, free of clouds. It would be a bright, sunny day, something rare for this area nine months of every year.

  Getting out of his truck, he watched Lily park her vehicle next to his. The graveled area was off to one side of the cabin, with spots for ten more vehicles, if needed. He sometimes held meetings with his senior wranglers on busy days, sharing a timetable and discussing which teams would be assigned to the jobs that demanded their time that day. He tried to ignore Lily’s silky hair, those fine golden strands intermixed with darker, umber-colored ones across her broad forehead. She had slightly arched brows, a slender body and her manner was refined, like the rest of her. He didn’t want to be so damned curious about her, about her past and why she was here in Wind River. Maybe the PTSD was making a tumbleweed of her, as it had him. Maud and Steve Whitcomb had anchored him to the ranch three years ago, and he’d been grateful to them for a chance to turn his miserable life around.

  Lily pulled her jacket tighter about herself as she rounded the end of her truck, then coming to where he was standing.

  “This is a huge cabin!” she said, gesturing to it.

  “Yeah, far more room than I’ll ever need. Let’s go inside. I have a meeting with some of my wranglers in twenty minutes and I have to be on time.”

  “Sure, of course.”

  He shortened his stride as he moved to the three cedar steps, the entryway at least twenty feet wide, with a log railing porch on either side of it. A wraparound walkway went around the entire cabin, a swing at one end, a couple of log chairs at another point. Moving to the door, he used the key and pushed it open for her.

  “Here,” he said, “you’re going to need this key.” He tried to ignore the warmth of her palm as he placed the key in it. There was pleasure, warm and soft, to his fingertips brushing her flesh. For a moment, her pupils grew larger, a sign he knew meant she enjoyed the contact.

  “Thanks.”

  “Go on in,” he urged. Lily was not a voluptuous woman. Rather, she had a sturdy, medium-boned frame, her breasts hidden beneath her down jacket, and her hips as well. She had long legs and there was a nice sway to her as she walked into the foyer and then turned, waiting for him. That didn’t take away from the fact that he was inexplicably attracted to her. Maybe because she was a vet? They had a strong, common bond. He watched her expression turn to awe as she looked around the airy space that showed a curved cedar staircase leading down to the first floor, where they stood.

  “This,” she breathed, “is so beautiful!” and she turned, smiling up at him. “I feel like I’m in some kind of wonderful fairy tale! I’ve seen photos of places like this in magazines.”

  “Steve Whitcomb is an internationally renowned architect,” Jake told her. “He designed the foreman’s house long before I came here. It’s a fancy place. I’m pretty plain and simple.”

  Laughing, Lily said, “What? A one-room log cabin would be more suitable for you?”

  He managed a slight shrug. “Something like that. I want you to snoop around and check out the two bedrooms over there,” and he pointed to the other side of the living room, toward a wide cedar hall. “Go get y
our clothes and anything else and choose one of those two rooms as your own. I’ll be home about eighteen hundred ... I mean six tonight.”

  “I don’t mind if you talk Zulu time with me.”

  “My mother will. She gets confused when I drop into military language.”

  “I’d better curb my military terms then, too. Thanks for letting me know.” She tilted her head. “It’s not going to take me long to move my clothes in here. That’s all I brought with me from home. I’ll look at the two rooms and decide which one would be best for Jenna. Would you like me to cook you something for tonight?”

  Jake warmed to the idea. He was in a hurry, pushed by a schedule, and didn’t have the time he wanted to go in-depth with Lily. “That would be nice if you’re up to it.”

  “I’m not helpless.”

  “I’m beginning to realize that.”

  Lily snorted, giving him a keen look but remaining silent, the challenging glint in her eyes telling him she was a helluva lot stronger than what he saw.

  Jake settled the Stetson on his head. He went to the granite kitchen counter, pulled out a notepad from the nearby wall phone and wrote down his cell phone number. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “If you need anything, call me. Cell reception is spotty in certain areas of the ranch, so if you don’t get me, call Maud and I’m sure she can help you. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Jake didn’t want to leave, but it was best under the circumstances. He had five different ranchers hauling hundreds of cattle via semitrucks up here and they were going to arrive at designated times during the afternoon. It was going to be a busy day, without any breaks.

  “Okay, I will. See you later,” she called.

  As he thunked across the cedar decking to the steps, Jake wondered what the hell he was going to do. He honestly liked Lily’s spunky attitude, and he’d seen it in other military women, too. They weren’t simpering puppets to be manipulated by men. No, they were fiercely independent, confident and spoke their minds. At least, the ones he knew and worked with were like that, and he respected them as equals.

  As he headed to his truck, he worried about her pallor. For her height, which he guessed was around five seven or eight, she was underweight. Something told him her PTSD and resulting medical discharge had a lot to do with her loss of weight. They had a lot to talk about. His mother hadn’t been around him and knew nothing of the nightmarish symptoms he had weekly. And she needed to be brought up to speed because she’d be living under his roof for a minimum of two months. He was no stranger to flashbacks, which were slowly receding. Nowadays, it was the nightmares that haunted him. He’d wake himself, screaming, remembering the dangers he’d managed to survive. His mother had no idea about his grappling with these damning symptoms. And God only knew what Lily was wrestling with. He could just picture the two of them screaming themselves awake at night, jolting his poor mother out of her badly needed sleep, scaring the literal hell out of her. Mouth twitching, Jake knew he had to level with his mother somewhat, prepare her for that likelihood.

  Lily had been in Helmand Province, one of the most dangerous places in the country, poisoned with Taliban. It was the hellhole of all the provinces. Something had happened to her while she was there. What?

  Opening the door to his Ram truck, he swung his bulk into the cab. He knew either Lily had had her PTSD symptoms come on over time or something tragic or horrifying had branded her mind and emotions in one intense, unforgettable event. He needed to know about it, however painful it was going to be for her—and him. They had a lot to discuss before Jenna arrived, that was for damned sure.

  * * *

  Lily was hesitant about going into Jake’s bedroom on the second floor of the gorgeous cabin. The door was open, the king-size bed unmade, dirty clothes dropped here and there on the highly waxed floor even though she could spot a clothes hamper from where she stood. She almost wanted to say, typical bachelor pad. He’d been in the military, and usually those men were organized and put their stuff away. They were taught that in boot camp.

  Without thinking, she quickly gathered up all the dirty clothes and dropped them into the clothes hamper just inside the massive master bathroom. It was opulent, with some white tiles among the iridescent rainbow-colored tile floor, a handmade cedar stool, a chair at a vanity and two rainbow-colored glass bowls that doubled as sinks, on one side. The mirror had a cedar frame and looked as if it were growing out of the wooden wall. The tops of the double sink counter were composed of swirls of purple-, blue- and cream-colored granite that complemented the rainbow tiles on the floor. At one end was a shower that could easily hold two people, with at least eight shower heads placed here and there. The garden tub near the sinks was what drew her. And, surprisingly, there was a hot tub that could easily hold four people. That she checked out very closely because it could be a wonderful adjunct to Jenna’s healing. Warm, pulsing water would create more circulation in the area of her surgery, which was always a good thing in speeding up the healing process.

  The Jacuzzi hot tub at the other end was a swirl of white and blue, reminding her of the sky, with high wisps of cirrus clouds. She liked that the tub was positioned such that all a person had to do was hold on to the chrome metal railing and take three steps down into its heated depths. That was something Jenna could do after the first two weeks if her rehab went well, and with her doctor’s permission. Dipping her fingers into the clear blue water, she saw the temperature was 102 Fahrenheit. It felt wonderful as the water sluiced through them. She wished there was a hot tub on the main floor, but there wasn’t. Mentally, she put the hot tub on her list of things to talk to Jake about tonight.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she rose and wiped her fingers on a lavender terry-cloth hand towel. A couple of times, she could have sworn Jake had wanted to say something to her that was personal. Maybe intimate? No, that couldn’t be. Yet that flickering, heated look in his eyes for that one split second said so. Impossible. It was probably her misguided intuition, which wasn’t always accurate because the PTSD had stolen that precious and necessary gift from her. That frustrated her. Walking out into the bedroom, which was literally the size of a huge living room, she quickly made his bed, fluffed the pillows and admired the white, purple and blue down comforter on top of it.

  Atop an antique mahogany chest of drawers, she saw two photos in gold frames. Curious, she walked over and looked more closely at them. One was, she was sure, his mother and father. They were standing in front of a wooden swing on what was probably their home’s front porch, his father’s arm around Jenna’s shoulder, both smiling like giddy teenagers. She wondered if Jake had snapped the photo. Knowing that his father had died of a heart attack at fifty-five, she grieved for Jake and Jenna because his parents looked happy with each other.

  The second photo was of Jake in high school, in a football uniform, looking fit, proud and impossibly masculine, a football tucked tightly beneath his right arm, grinning broadly like a conquering hero. In the background, the stands were filled with people. His dark hair was a lot longer than it was now, giving him an almost swashbuckling pirate kind of look. Or maybe the ultimate risk-taker, unafraid, looking to do battle. Was that why he went into black ops to become a recon? To hide in enemy territory, discovering valuable information so that US and UN troops wouldn’t be killed by them? She had met a number of recon Marines at the different firebases where she had been deployed. They were gruff, hardened, silent men, with a look in their eyes that said they were the ultimate hunters. Jake had that same piercing, eaglelike look, that same kind of Rock of Gibraltar confidence that dripped off all those men. So many questions to ask him! But would he open up and give her answers? That, Lily was unsure of.

  Smiling a little, she was positive Jake was very popular with the ladies, no question. He oozed charisma even in that photo, as if completely unaware of his overwhelming male sexuality and its effect on women. So why was he alone here? He had so much going for him. Perhaps he did have a woman in his life
and she just didn’t know about it. That dampened some of her happiness, and she frowned. Her experience in love left her questioning whether anyone who fell in love ever had the relationship last. And then the PTSD hit, and she’d become immune to wanting any kind of relationship, pulled inward into her own pain and suffering.

  Sighing, she turned and left, hurrying down the beautiful, graceful staircase. Her palm slid lightly across the warm, polished curved cedar balustrade with its gold and crimson coloring. She halted for a moment, simply absorbing the natural wood and beauty of this cabin that was a piece of architectural art.

  Looking at the watch on her wrist, she sat down at the reddish mahogany table that probably dated from the early 1900s. The decor harkened back to that time. Steve might have made an ultramodern cabin with an open-concept kitchen-living room, but everything in it was an antique. And she loved antiques, feeling right at home in the cabin.

  Maud had mentioned in passing that she had decorated the foreman’s cabin when it was built. There were brightly colored, stained-glass lamps at either end of two couches that were placed in an L-shape in the living room. They looked like Tiffany lamps. Loving the colors, she skipped down the rest of the stairs. Now, it was time to rustle up some vittles. She only hoped Jake liked her cooking. Lily would find out shortly.

  * * *

  The odor of spaghetti laced with garlic filled the air as Jake stepped in at almost seven p.m. He’d called Lily at six, telling her that they were still unloading the last semi of cattle into the leased pasture. Taking off his Stetson, he dropped it on a hook near the door and shut it.

  “I’ll bet you’re tired,” Lily called from the kitchen.

  Jake turned, seeing that she had found a green-and-white-checked apron and wrapped it around her waist. “Yeah. Sorry to be so late, but the next couple of weeks are going to be like this until we get all the leases filled. Smells good.” He saw her cheeks suddenly go pink and he realized belatedly that Lily was blushing. She stood at the stove, two oven mittens on her hands.