Home on the Ranch: Colorado Cowboy

by Patricia Potter

  Maude studied him for a moment. “My goodness, but you look like you need a really big steak. And I bet you like it rare.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “To both.”

  Maude smiled. “What about you, Susan?”

  “A filet and salad. He’s a lot bigger than I am.”

  Maude nodded. “He is that. I’ll have it in fifteen minutes. Welcome to Covenant Falls, Mr. Taylor.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “How did you know...?”

  “Tell him, Susan,” Maude said, and hurried away with the order.

  “Maude knows everything that happens in Covenant Falls and sometimes before it happens,” she explained. “Everyone eats here and everyone confides in her. She has a special affection for the military. Her husband was killed in Desert Storm. The town became her family.”

  “How many stories are there in Covenant Falls?” he asked.

  “As many as there are people and then some.”

  “What about yours?” he said. “Why do you stay when there’s such big world out there?”

  She shrugged. “Why do you not have any home at all?”

  “Touché,” he said.

  “That’s not a good answer. I’ve never known anyone who didn’t have some place they called home, humble or princely.”

  He shrugged. “I have a job that keeps me on the road.”

  “You could work anywhere,” she said. “Physical therapists are in demand.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “They are?”

  “That’s what I read.” She realized then that she had given away her interest. She was mortified.

  Maude suddenly appeared with two iced teas. Susan took a long swallow, then met Ross’s gaze after Maude left. Since she had already let it be known that she’d probably done some research, she pursued the topic. “I also read that you worked with some Hollywood stars.”

  “Did it mention any names?”

  “Just one. A photographer caught you leaving his house.”

  Ross nodded. “He wasn’t happy about that.”

  She had a lot of questions, but looking at his cool gray eyes, she thought those questions could wait for another day.

  “Did you go by the General Store?”

  “Yeah. I have to admit I was happily surprised.” He paused, then asked, “That really is the proper name? Not Clancy’s Superstore, or Mary’s Emporium?”

  “We’re not fancy in Covenant Falls. We call things as they are,” she explained.

  “Just the facts, ma’am?”

  “Something like that. Did it meet your standards?”

  “I don’t have many,” he said. “But if I did, it would. It surpassed them. You should see the pile next to me. Two T-shirts, a pair of wrinkle-free slacks and a shirt. Even a pair of riding boots. I’ll leave them at the ranch.” He paused, then added, “That’s actually a shopping spree for me.”

  “I can see that,” she said with a grin. “Is that what you wear for your other clients?”

  “Josh isn’t a client,” he said. “But yes, it usually is. They don’t employ me for my wardrobe.”

  “Why do they? Employ you, I mean?”

  “I’m good at it. I’m discreet and I don’t lie to them,” he said matter-of-factly. “I tell them in the beginning what I can and can’t do, and the former depends on how hard they work.”

  “How did you get started?”

  He shrugged. “The traveling part? I knew I didn’t want a full-time job with a rehab center or hospital. I’m not crazy about staying anywhere long. I was older than the other students and grew close to one of my professors. We had talks, and he knew I was restless. I almost dropped out at one point. He suggested going the per diem route, and when I graduated he recommended me to an agency in Hollywood.”

  He shrugged. “A lot of their clientele were stars and stuntmen. I understand their world and how crucial time is to them. They want the fastest rehab possible without incurring more damage. I tell them like it is. But though it pays most of the bills, it’s a minor part of my business, time-wise. I do other jobs as well, including stints at VA and other rehab facilities that have temporary gaps. I’ve worked with private individuals for various reasons. The main advantage of being a traveling therapist is the ability to choose.”

  “And what do you think about New Beginnings?”

  “I like it. I like the emphasis on vets helping each other. It’s what they missed since leaving the service. Hopefully, they will keep in touch after the six weeks and become a continuing support group. I particularly appreciate the fact that they’ll be welcomed back anytime they feel a need for it.

  “The greatest cause of suicides and drug addiction among veterans,” he added with an intensity that surprised her, “is isolation, the feeling that no one understands what they experienced: the fear, the injuries, the loss of buddies, the guilt for surviving when others didn’t.

  “Six weeks won’t solve that,” he added, “but friendships and new tools to face those problems will help.

  “Sorry to get on my soapbox,” he added with a wry smile. “You know all that. But what impresses me most is the way the entire community is supporting it.”

  “It comes naturally. Covenant Falls has always been military oriented. It’s given more than its share to the military and its casualty lists throughout its one-hundred-and-fifty-year history. You probably haven’t seen it yet, but there’s a military memorial in the park adjacent to the lake.”

  “I’ll have to visit it.” He hesitated, then started slowly, “There’s one veteran—Riley...”

  “I know him,” she said. “He’s...withdrawn.”

  “He’s afraid he can’t ever ride. Maybe he needs some of your magic.”

  “I’ll try to run into him tomorrow at the barn,” she replied.

  The steaks came then, and conversation stopped.

  * * *

  It was 9:00 p.m. before Ross finished with the evening group meeting. He told them a little about his background. It helped that he’d been an army medic for three tours before getting his degree. He’d already had private sessions with five of the fourteen participants and arranged more with the others over the next two days.

  In the general meeting, he discussed and demonstrated exercises that would improve their balance and strengthen muscles helpful in riding, along with others that would be beneficial in everyday living.

  “Some of you—probably all—will be sore for several more days but then the aches will fade away.” He made it clear that he was available at any time and asked for their input as to what they felt they needed, wanted and didn’t want.

  “What about doing away with push-ups,” one quipped.

  “Good try,” he said. “Did I add that I might not follow subtle hints?” Everyone laughed.

  “But seriously,” he added, “this is not a jail or the army. Certain exercises will help you become better riders. Others will help you become healthier people. But no one, including me, will be taking notes or keeping track of whether you do or don’t.”

  He finished by thanking them for their cooperation and participation in the session. “I’m here for questions, advice, as a complaint board or whatever you need. I’ll be riding and learning with you, and I’ll have the same aches and pain and probably tumbles.

  “Which reminds me,” he said with a grin, “After this morning’s stellar performance, I’ll be leading an optional run each morning at six.” He wanted them to take responsibility, not just to be told what to do. He planned to give each vet a suggested voluntary action plan depending on their physical condition. He hoped peer competition would drive them.

  He left the bunkhouse with Hobo, who’d stayed next to him. The dog had allowed other vets to touch him as long as Ross was within huddling distance. By the end of the evening, every vet was arguing about who was more successf
ul.

  Ross walked outside. He didn’t see Susan or her car and assumed she’d left earlier. He tamped down unexpected disappointment. She had a job and a life. She couldn’t spend all her time babysitting him.

  He was resigned to running or—more likely—walking to the inn with Hobo in the sling when Jubal appeared. “I’ll give you a ride back to the inn,” he said. “Looks like we might have a storm coming.”

  “I can walk.”

  “Hell, it will take me less than ten minutes round trip,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Then I accept. I didn’t want to ride my bike over here. I was afraid it might spook the horses.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. They’re well trained. They’re used to the sound of heavy trucks and horse trailers.”

  “Good. It will be a lot more convenient.”

  “What about the little fellow?”

  “He fits into a basket I made for the bike. He doesn’t seem to mind.”

  “He sure sticks close to you.”

  “That’s why I need to find a home for him as quickly as possible,” Ross said. “What about you and your wife? Hobo needs a family.”

  “Not unless I want to get hit by a flying frying pan. Right now Lisa has a medical practice, two sibling teenagers, their dog, three employees and a continuous flow of veterans with various stages of PTSD.”

  “Maybe he’d make a good watchdog?” Desperation prodded him to keep talking.

  “That little guy? He would make a burglar laugh.”

  “That’s one way of disarming him,” Ross shot back.

  “Why do you assume the burglar is a him?” Jubal asked.

  “Okay, one way of disarming her.”

  Jubal chuckled. “Sorry, but no help here. By the way, you seem to be getting along with Susan.”

  “She’s hard not to like,” Ross replied.

  “That is true,” Jubal said as they reached what looked like a well-used minivan. “None of my business anyway.”

  “A minivan?” Ross asked with a raised eyebrow as he eyed the vehicle with something akin to horror.

  “It happens when you gain a family and a ranch,” Jubal said with a sheepish smile.

  “Where are the kids?”

  “Gordon is at college, studying aeronautic engineering. He can design anything,” he added proudly. “Kerry’s a high school junior and a good little horsewoman. This first weekend of the vet program is always hectic, and she has tests next week. She’s staying with a friend studying this weekend.”

  Jubal sounded completely domesticated. It was darn right scary to see two warriors like Jubal and Josh so tamed. Ross silently swore it wasn’t going to happen to him. He was a wandering man. Free from any ties. He cherished the freedom of his lifestyle.

  They were turning into the inn when a streak of lightning crossed the sky. Ross said a quick good-night. He wanted to cover the bike if he was going to ride it in the morning.

  “See you in the morning?” Jubal said.

  “Yeah. Want to go running with us—6:00 a.m.? I know I didn’t think it wise the first time, but now I want them to become a little competitive.”

  “Sure, why not,” Jubal said. “I’ve been so busy with the ranch, haven’t done much of it lately.”

  Ross went in the side door to his room and put Hobo down, then returned to the bike and covered it. He stayed there for a moment, enjoying the wind that was now blowing strong.

  Then he went inside.

  He took out his cell, did some searching, then punched in his order and credit card information. His order was immediately confirmed, and the item should arrive in two days.

  When he put the cell down, he made a bet with himself on the morning run. Then, exhausted, he went to bed.

  Chapter 11

  Ross woke to the sound of thunder and the softer sound of scratching at the side of the bed.

  It took him a minute to recognize it.

  Hobo was frantically trying to get up on the bed.

  Lightning flashed into the room and he understood Hobo’s terror. How many times had the dog tried to find shelter?

  Ross hated storms, as well.

  Too often it brought back the scene from the farm. The thunder that woke him up, the neighing of alarmed horses that sensed something was terribly wrong...

  He never knew why his father chose that method of death, why he’d left his only child or his wife to find him. I’ve never forgiven you for that.

  Ross looked at the clock. It was a little after 3:00 a.m. He lifted Hobo up on the bed. The dog was trembling with fear.

  He remembered the dog he had as a boy. Patches loved having his stomach rubbed. Ross turned Hobo around and started rubbing the dog’s stomach. A kind of purring from deep in Hobo’s throat touched him as few other things had in recent years. The dog had been so helpless, thrown away for reasons he couldn’t understand.

  Like Ross had been.

  He knew the reasons years later, but it never erased the memories of a kid who’d lost all he loved in a matter of days. His family. His home. His horse. His dog.

  And now he was relating to this dog in a way that meant trouble. He knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep now. The freshly revived images would stay with him for days.

  “Hey,” he said to Hobo when the thunder faded away. “Need to go outside?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. He rolled out of bed and reached for the running shorts he’d left in a chair near his bed. He pulled on his T-shirt, then his shoes.

  He plucked Hobo, along with the new leash, and went outside. The storm had apparently rolled on. Water still dripped from trees and from the roof. Hobo looked up at him as if wondering, What now?

  “Damn if I know,” he said. He only knew that he was restless. He wouldn’t sleep now. His mind was too jumbled from the nightmare. Don’t think about the past. Think about now.

  He reviewed yesterday. On the whole, it had been successful. Any concerns he had about the program had been alleviated. It was well researched and apparently well executed.

  He should have known. Josh wouldn’t have been connected with anything haphazard. From the notes he’d read, the vets—guests—were well chosen. The volunteers were knowledgeable and conscientious. Everyone connected to the program appeared to be competent and receptive to suggestions.

  His only concern was Susan. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever felt so connected to a woman in so short a time.

  He liked her sense of humor, her commitment to the project and the guests, her general competence. Most of all he liked her open smile that included everyone she encountered. He hadn’t missed the protective affection that both Josh and Jubal displayed toward her. She must have flaws but he hadn’t noticed any yet except, maybe, her clear determination that he keep Hobo. Maybe her heart was too big.

  He’d missed seeing her last night. Had she purposely avoided him or was there some emergency? And why did he care? Dammit, he did.

  He took Hobo back inside. It was ten after four, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep again.

  He picked up the paperback—a mystery—he’d found at a truck stop several days ago and tried to read.

  * * *

  Susan woke up earlier than usual with a cat walking over her. She opened her eyes to the unblinking gaze of Vagabond staring at her. The cat obviously felt neglected and didn’t waste time in telling Susan about it.

  Susan had not reached her house until seven last night. She knew Ross was holding several sessions with the vets and would be occupied until late. There had been no reason to wait and drive him home despite her urge to do exactly that.

  Hanging around was ridiculous and would indicate an interest she didn’t have. She had no doubt he could take care of himself in any situation and he certainly had friends. She understood he’d never met J
ubal before he arrived and yet they talked as if they’d known each other forever.

  Maybe it was just the warrior breed.

  Whatever it was, she needed to stay away. She’d never been drawn to anyone like this before.

  Not even Richard, her former husband. He had been as far from her small town life as he could be. Maybe that had been the attraction. Unlike Ross in his jeans and T-shirt and bike, Richard looked as if he’d stepped off a sophisticated magazine cover. He always dressed well, was always well groomed and hated it when she wasn’t the same...

  On her way home, she’d stopped at the inn. Mark was at the desk. All was well. Good, in fact, with four new drop-in guests and reservations for future dates.”

  “How is the vet program doing?” Mark asked.

  “Even better than the last one.” Susan added, “You’re going a great job. I hope you know how much we appreciate you for filling in for me and all the extra hours.”

  He went red. “I’m grateful for the extra money and it’s usually so quiet, I can study.”

  “Can you make sure we have coffee and pastries by five thirty? I expect we will have at least one large and hungry guest at that time.”

  “I know who you mean. Will do.”

  She headed home, only to hear complaints from Vagabond when she arrived.

  “Sorry, girl,” she said. “Promise to do better tomorrow.”

  She fed Vagabond, cleaned her litter box and took a long hot bath. She had planned to read in the tub, but her mind was too busy. Instead she just luxuriated in the warm water. She’d helped out at New Beginnings because they needed it during the first few days. By tomorrow, most of the guests would know how to saddle, mount, dismount, cool off the horses and take care of the equipment. She wouldn’t be needed.

  She would spend tomorrow at the inn, doing what she was paid to do. Update the ad in the state tourism magazine. Send thank-you notes to recent guests and offer a discount for a repeat visit or to someone they recommended. She also intended to write a feature about the Jeep trip—which was apparently a real selling point—and peddle it to local papers in the area and travel magazines.