“Yes?”
“My anxiety didn’t come back for twenty-four hours. And then, when it started returning, it crept back.”
“If a full-blown anxiety attack for you is a ten, what was the creeping-back number and did it stay at that level?”
“A five, which is amazing for me.” Once done, she walked around Checkers and grabbed a curry comb out of the box. “It remained at that level. That just blew me away. I figured I’d try a test and decided to come here and work with Checkers to see if my anxiety would go away again.” She grinned a little. “It did. It’s gone. I’m hoping it will stay away another twenty-four hours.”
He tipped the brim of his Stetson up a bit, watching her. The short-sleeved pink T-shirt showed off her pale limbs as she thoroughly curried the horse. “That’s good,” he praised.
“Is that why you love your job here, Jake? You said riding dials down the anxiety for you.”
“It does for just about everyone. Some it doesn’t, but for most of the wranglers, riding a horse dulls the anxiety a little to a lot, depending upon the person.”
“And that’s why you said Maud and Steve have horses here instead of trading them in on a bunch of ATVs,” she reminded him.
“Right.” He watched her get a dandy brush, one that was very soft and good for areas of the horse where there was no muscle, just skin against bones, like their legs. She worked hard, was thorough and Checkers hung his head, eyes half closed, enjoying the horsey spa time with Lily. Jake’s skin riffled as he thought about those long fingers of hers caressing him. It was a dark secret he would keep. Ashamed of himself, he couldn’t stop his need for Lily. What was it about her that drew him, drove him crazy, his dreams turning hot and sultry? He knew what it was like to want sex. But this went much deeper than just that. It bothered him because he had no way to turn it off or deflect the growing emotions he was feeling toward her.
“There!” Lily said proudly, releasing the ties after she placed the lead on the horse’s halter. “Is it okay if I let him out back where he can get some grass and sunshine? He’s earned it.”
“Sure,” Jake replied, walking with her, the echo of the horse’s shod hooves hitting the concrete. They left the shade of the barn and she took the animal down a well-used trail to the pasture. Happiness bubbled within him, and this wasn’t something he felt often. There was such peace in Lily’s face as she led Checkers over to the gate that it made his heart soar. He wondered if, before the incident, there’d been a man in her life. She must have had one, he surmised, watching her slim, graceful form as she opened the gate and released Checkers into the pasture for the rest of the sunny day.
“How’d you like to drive into town with me? I need to pick up some items at Charlie Becker’s Hay and Feed store.” He saw her eyes gleam with excitement.
“Any chance I’ll get to grab one of Pixie’s cookies?”
Jake chuckled, the rumble moving through his chest. “Gal after my own heart. I’m sure we’ll find something near the coffee station. Let’s mosey on down and find out. . . .”
* * *
Lily tipped her head back against the seat, her arm hanging out the window of Jake’s truck, the wind threading through her opened fingers. Life was suddenly, so sweetly, unexpectedly good that she felt as if she’d burst with joy. Jake hadn’t erected that wall between them since the first time she’d rode Checkers. Something important had happened then, but she couldn’t define what it meant. Maybe it was like the magic between her and Checkers that reduced her anxiety? Unsure, her lips parted, and she absorbed the wind flowing in the window from the speeding truck, plastering strands of her hair against her sweaty neck. How good it felt to be alive once again! Jake’s nearness was a plus, although she tried to quell her need of him. In another month she would be leaving that beautiful house she silently called home. She knew Jake referred to it only as a house. But why? Everyone needed a home, not just a shell with a roof over their head. And he’d lived there three years and not made it his own in any way. Why? It was another personal question she wanted to ask him, but she knew the timing would have to be right to ask it, if she ever could.
“You look happy.”
Rolling her head to the left, Lily barely opened her eyes, then met Jake’s rugged profile as he devoted his attention to driving. “Do I?”
“Yes.”
“How can you tell?”
“Your cheeks are flushed. When you first came to the ranch, you were always pale. I noticed when you and Jenna would get together, your cheeks got some color in them, as if you were enjoying your time together. Three days ago, when you and I worked with Checkers, your cheeks were flaming red by the end of your ride in the arena. I thought it meant you were happy. Were you at those times, Lily?”
Her lips curved slightly, and she watched his expression, which was readable now as he cast a quick glance in her direction, then went back to devoting his attention to his driving. How much she wanted to tell him that she liked this Jake far more than the man she’d first met. “I didn’t realize that. Yes . . . very happy. Relief that I still feel no anxiety. Giddy that I can feel the wind through my fingers, smell the grass ... little things that were taken away from me that have suddenly returned.”
“You seem more alive, I guess. I’m not good with words sometimes.”
He seemed awkward after admitting that, and Lily wanted to reach out and touch his thickly muscled forearm to reassure him, but that would have been too intimate a gesture. “You’re a master of small details, Jake.”
“You have to be to be a recon. It’s the little things that can either save you from the enemy or get you killed.”
“I never thought much about your skills, mainly because I rarely met a recon Marine in the medical clinic on our firebase.”
“No, you probably wouldn’t have. We worked in enemy territory for weeks or months at a time.”
“That seems so stressful. Was that the cause of your PTSD?”
“Yes, it piled up on me over the years. I didn’t realize it either. My focus was on surviving. When I was back at Bagram for an extended period, anxiety hit me hard. I went to the doctor at the base hospital, went through tests, and she said I had acquired PTSD.” His mouth slashed for a moment. “Go figure. Out in enemy territory, cortisol, the hormone that works with adrenaline, kept me hyperalert because if I wasn’t, I’d get killed. Out there, it was a plus that saved my hide. But back at base, or in the civilian world, cortisol is still there, pouring 24/7/365 into our blood, and it can’t be shut off. So we go around in quiet agony in civilian life, feeling that same hyperalertness and anxiety.”
“If only we could turn it off.”
“Yeah,” he muttered unhappily.
“Is riding a horse about the only thing that tamps it down, Jake?” She saw the emotion in his face for a moment and then he masked it.
“For me, it does the trick. I didn’t want to use drugs or alcohol to anesthetize myself. I’d rather feel than become a zombie with no emotions.”
“But not everyone is as strong as you are,” she noted gently, watching his mouth soften at her quietly spoken words.
“I guess that’s true. But you’re strong, too, Lily.”
She let loose an explosive laugh, then said with derision in her voice, “I don’t see it that way. Right now, I’m a clam without a shell. I feel vulnerable because I can’t protect myself or feel that I’m safe in the world. It’s a horrible feeling that mixes with my nonstop anxiety. It takes everything I have within me to act or behave normally.”
“I understand that,” he murmured, giving her a sympathetic glance. “That’s why I told you that you were safe here. I meant that. I know working with Jenna and being at the cabin has been good for you because I can see positive changes in you. You’re more relaxed. And when I noticed your cheeks having color, I realized, or at least hoped, you were happy or close to it.”
Gulping, Lily turned away, looking out the window, the breeze wonderful against her
face and body. Safe. That word meant so much to her. Far more than she should allow it to. “I . . . uh . . . don’t want to feel like this, believe me. It’s not me, Jake. I wish you’d known me before. I was nothing like the woman you see now. I loved adventure, I took risks, I was brimming with confidence, with dreams of a wonderful future of service and helping to take pain away from those who had it. I was far more outgoing, not the hermit crab you see today.” Her voice wobbled slightly. “I really miss who I was. I want her back. I fight so hard every day to try to get there, but I’m always failing, falling short. There are some days when I give up, and then that horrible depression hits me. I never had depression before in my life. It doesn’t run in my family genetically either. But now I have it sometimes, and I hate it. It’s like a wet, cold blanket covering me so I can barely breathe. All I want to do is escape the horrible feeling of helplessness. I see only darkness, never any light, and God knows I’m looking for a pinpoint of light when I get dragged down into those times.”
He nodded, opening one hand on the steering wheel. “That’s part of the PTSD symptoms. And right now, we have twenty-two good men and women who commit suicide every day to escape what you just described.”
Sorrowfully, she gave him a glance. “I know. I keep telling myself I won’t be one of them. But that utter darkness and loss of hope is so heavy and unbearable that I can hardly move. All I do is lie in bed, and that’s just not me.”
“Does it happen often?”
“It’s been better the last couple of months. It used to hit me weekly for half a day or so.” Shrugging, she said, “Since coming here, I’ve not experienced it. I feel lucky. I’m hoping it continues to stay away.” Managing a wry look, she added, “Maybe this ranch is magic, you know?”
“I think it is, in some ways. I’ve given a lot of thought to why I’m feeling much better now than when I arrived here three years ago. Part of it is having a job where there’s low stress, because that’s what amps up the symptoms. There’s a quiet rhythm and stability that ranching life gives you. You know daily what has to be done, and I think that fixed routine helps us vets. We know what’s expected of us and we know we can handle the demands. And because of that, our stress levels don’t spike, which cause the anxiety that tears the hell out of us on every level.”
“Plus, riding a horse or working around animals helps?”
“Yes, that’s all part of our low-stress recipe, I suppose.”
She considered their conversation as Jake pulled the truck into Charlie Becker’s Hay and Feed store. It was a busy place, with a lot of flatbed trucks being loaded with grain sacks, straw or hay bales and other necessary ranch and farm materials at the two barn ramps. Most of the workers were male, but she saw several women wranglers coming and going from one of the many barns on the property. Would she ever be able to do what Red did at the ranch? It called to her and she liked the idea of being outdoors, out in nature, living a slower pace of life instead of the hectic one in the military.
“We’re here,” Jake said, giving her a brief, warm look. “Let’s go into the store and see what Pixie made. See if anything’s left after the locust swarm landed on it,” and he chuckled.
She smiled and opened the door, getting out. “As I understand it, everyone in town knows the time Pixie arrives with her baked goodies.”
Walking around the truck, he met her at the steps up to the porch. “She comes at eleven thirty, just in time for lunch.” He lifted his nose. “I believe I smell cinnamon rolls,” he said, opening the door to the store for her.
Sure enough, Lily was pleasantly surrounded with the hint of baked goods and cinnamon. Charlie Becker, in his midsixties, balding, a set of spectacles balanced precariously on his nose, lifted his hand in greeting.
“Hey, Lily! Long time no see!”
She smiled and walked with Jake, halting at the long wooden counter, behind which Charlie sat. He had an old-fashioned, ancient cash register, a small calculator in front of him beside his receipt book, where he wrote out bills. There was carbon paper beneath each page, so the buyer got a copy. “I’ve been busy.”
“So Pixie tells me. You know how word gets around like wildfire in Wind River?” and he waggled his gray, caterpillarlike eyebrows, grinning mischievously.
She laughed. “Yes. I’m taking care of Jake’s mother, Jenna, for a couple of months while she recuperates from a broken femur.”
“She’s in the best of hands.” He reached across the counter. “Look what the cat dragged in. Normally, one of your wranglers comes by instead of you, Jake. Long time no see.”
“Every once in a while they let me out of my cell on the ranch,” he deadpanned, shaking Charlie’s long, parchment hand. “I brought Lily with me because she needs a few items; she’s started to learn to ride.”
Surprised, Lily turned, looking up at him. “What?”
“You need a few things,” Jake repeated.
“But,” she sputtered, “I don’t have extra money to buy anything, Jake.” And she didn’t.
He held up his hand. “Charlie, put Lily’s purchases on the ranch account for us?”
“Why sure.”
Stunned, Lily muttered, “Wait a minute, Jake. Maud and Steve shouldn’t pay for this!”
He gave her a calming smile. “It’s okay, Lily. Maud saw you riding the other day and called me about it. They routinely provide what their wranglers need out of the ranch budget, and because you’re working here for her, technically, she’s extended it to you as well.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, giving him a wary glance. “I don’t take handouts, Jake. I’ve always earned my own keep.”
“You’re earning your keep by taking such good care of Jenna and me.”
She wasn’t going to win this argument. Charlie gave her a merry look, then pointed his finger to the coffee service table at the rear of the large store.
“Hey, there are only two warm cinnamon rolls left. You oughta grab them before someone comes in here and steals them out from beneath your noses. Now, git! You can shop afterward.”
The table held a huge coffee urn, Styrofoam cups, milk, sugar and spoons. And to the left of it was a huge platter Lily thought had probably contained more than two dozen thick, gooey and sinfully delicious-smelling cinnamon rolls. She heard Jake chuckle as he picked up a paper plate and handed it to her.
“They don’t last long around here. Take your pick.”
Their fingertips briefly touched, and she silently absorbed the contact. It always gave her pleasure to touch Jake, even if accidentally. “Thanks. I’ll take the smaller of the two.” She cut him a glance. “You’re still a growing boy, Murdoch.”
Snorting, he took the larger one, stabbing it with a white plastic fork. “I don’t know about that. Want a cup of coffee to go with it?”
“Yes, thanks.” Pixie Becker never made anything small in her life, Lily thought as she awkwardly guided the heavy, oblong cinnamon roll to the paper plate she had balanced in her other hand. It was obvious Jake had a lot of practice doing it in comparison to her. Pixie was Wind River’s secret weapon of sorts. She loved baking and delighted in giving the townspeople something to make them smile. Life was hard, but Pixie no doubt made it easier.
“Come on over here,” Jake invited, using his chin to point to a group of tables and chairs nearby.
The cinnamon roll was meltingly good as she savored the confection. Jake was making short work of his, too. The bell above the door jingled, and Lily recognized Shay and Reese Lockhart walking into the store. She knew them well. Setting her plate on the table, she murmured, “I’ll be right back. I want to say hi to Shay and Reese.”
“Lily!” Shay cried, spotting her coming up between the rows of cowboy clothes. “There you are!”
Laughing, Lily gently hugged a very pregnant Shay. “It’s so good to see you! How have you been? How’s your baby?” and she released her, stepping back.
Placing her hand on her seven-month bump, she said, “A day at a time. N
o one said pregnancy was fun.”
Giving Shay an understanding look, she said, “Only two months to go, Shay. Then you can return to normal. Reese! How are you?” and she opened her arms, hugging the tall, lean cowboy.
“I’m better, I think, than Shay is.” He laughed, giving her a light hug and releasing her. He turned to Jake as he wandered toward them. “Are you here doing ranch buying? Or out to get one of Pixie’s world-famous cinnamon rolls?”
“Well,” Lily hedged, “. . . sort of.” She saw the joy in Shay’s eyes, thinking how good she looked. Her father, Ray, had long been a cross for her to bear, and it hadn’t changed. Lily had met her at the shelter when she first came to Wind River and they’d immediately become friends. “You look relaxed, Shay.” And God knew with that father of hers, who was suing the ranch she owned to get it back, that was saying something.
Shay placed her purse on the counter, giving Charlie’s hand a squeeze of hello. “I guess it’s the pregnancy. Nothing’s changed with my father. It’s the same old stuff with him.”
Sliding her arm around Shay, Lily gave her a tender hug. “It’s going to come out fine in the end. Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?”
Shay gave her a return hug. “No, not right now. Just knowing you’re close by, Lily, gives me a breather. If I suddenly go into labor, I’m calling you.”
“But you have two great midwives here, Shay.”
“I know, but it doesn’t hurt to have a nurse in the mix. Right?”
Lily nodded. “I’ll be there any time you need me.”
“She will be,” Jake intoned, coming over and giving Shay a quick hug of hello.
“Hi, Jake! Gosh, we don’t get to see you very often! I told Reese the other day we needed to have a barbecue, invite everyone from the Wind River Ranch over so we could see you guys again. You’ve been missing in action.”
Jake nodded. “A hundred grass leases, Shay. You know the work involved in that.”
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