The Ranger's Passionate Love

by Nicole Jordan

  Kyara sighed. "I doubt it," she said. "Besides, this path helps me out at much as anybody. It might as well go to a good cause."

  Jason smiled, his eyes sparkling.

  "You're a dream." he turned back to the pick-up. "Can you drive her back to get it, Rich? That way we could get it back here and in before it gets dark?"

  There was a long, stony silence from the cabin of the truck. Then wordlessly, Officer Marsh reached over, and opened the passenger side door.

  Kyara climbed in, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Ashley was staring knives at her, and Caitlin took the time to wink. Kyara wasn't thinking about Jason anymore, though.

  In the weeks she'd been coming out to the project, the officer had yet to speak to her directly.

  He'd talk around her, or even in her presence, but never to her.

  Not even once.

  The door of the truck slammed closed like the lid of a coffin, and they were off. The truck bounced and jerked down the still uneven path.

  It's okay, Kyara. Maybe he just needs time. Other people have started to warm up – there's no reason he won't either. Maybe you just have to give him an opening.

  "So," started Kyara. "It's hard to imagine wagons and things making their way over ground this rough."

  Officer Marsh grunted, his eyes on the road.

  "I mean," continued Kyara gamely, "a hundred years ago, or whatever. I can't imagine their engines were as good as this one."

  Marsh didn't respond at all this time. Okay, the joke was lame, but come on, you've gotta give me something here.

  "How much farther is it to the mill site, anyway?" she asked desperately.

  Marsh shrugged.

  Kyara turned towards the window. She was prepared to ride the rest of the way in silence until she caught her own reflection in the glass. She sat there, looking a little sullen, like a kid who wasn't invited to the grown-ups table. Behind her, Officer Marsh's stern, white face seemed to loom above her.

  Oh, Hell, no. I'm tired of this. I've been nice for weeks. I'm not doing it anymore, Kyara finally decided.

  She turned back to face the silent sheriff.

  "Look, do we have a problem?" she asked, letting some heat into her voice.

  The officer took his foot off the gas, letting the truck slow but not stop. Suddenly the truck cabin felt very, very small.

  Oh, shit.

  "Do we... have... a problem...?” Officer Marsh repeated. His voice was rough, and he sounded like he was turning the words over in his mind. Well, at least he's talking to me.

  "Do you mean," the officer continued, her voice still slow and ruthless. "Like, do we have a problem with you coming into town and taking over Alice's place before she's had time to grow cold?”

  “It was for sale-”

  “Or were you thinking more, do we have a problem with you just showing up like you belong here and expecting everyone to fall all over themselves to be your friend?"

  Kyara opened her mouth to protest, but Office Marsh was in control now. His voice rode right over her.

  "Or maybe you mean, do we have a problem with you taking that poor troubled girl's time away from her mama, where she should be. That one could be it."

  Wait, Crystal's not troubled. She's a good kid! What's he...

  "Or maybe you mean, do we have a problem with you coming into town and stealing local boys away from nice girls?"

  Wait, what? That one isn't even fair!

  But now the white officer's tone was low and menacing.

  Kyara choked on her anger, suddenly scared by the look of rage and contempt filling the driver's reddening face.

  "Do we have a problem?" He let the other shoe drop, his voice vicious. "No. No problem. Everyone knows you're a failure, and pretty soon, your little cafeteria is going to run out of money, and you'll be gone."

  The truck was pulling up behind her restaurant now, and he gestured at it with an angry chop of his hand.

  Kyara swallowed, and tried to focus her mind through her anger.

  "Listen, asshole. That shit you just said isn’t fair. I..." but her voice was cut off as the red-faced man screamed at her, pounding on the steering wheel as he did.

  "You can act like we all owe you something all you want, but no one owes you shit. Everyone knows people like you don't actually do anything. I'd tell you to cry home to daddy, but I bet we both know why you can’t.”

  The words slammed into her like a blow to the gut. How did he know?

  Kyara threw the door open, running for her back door. I will not cry in front of him. I will not.

  Once she was inside, though, the door slammed behind her, Kyara slumped down. Her sobs filled the empty dining hall.

  Is my guilt so obvious? Oh, Papa, it's all my fault.

  Kyara collapsed to a table, silently shaking in that face of the man's accusations, but more in the face of her own guilt.

  The sun had gone down, leaving the dining room illuminated only by the lights of the street through the windows. After hours of crying, Kyara had fallen into a kind of a numb stupor. She still hadn't moved, though her eyes hurt and her throat was sore. Only a frantic knocking at her door finally forced her out of her stupor.

  "Go away," she called out, her voice thick from her weeping.

  "Kyara?" came Jason's voice. "I came to ... are you okay?"

  Horrified, Kyara started wiping her eyes on the tablecloth in front of her.

  "I'm fine," she called out. "Go away."

  "Uh, If that's what you want, I can go. I just ... I just wanted to check and see what happened. Rick came back and said you weren't going to help out after all?"

  I should just quit. It's not like I'm welcome.

  But it was so nice. I was finally making friends.

  "Rick's a fucking liar." Kyara called back, choking back tears again. "I'm not feeling well, is all. I'll come back next week."

  "Are you sure you ... oh, Kyara, what happened?" Jason's voice was suddenly louder and clearer, no longer blocked by the door.

  Stupid not locking the stupid doors in this stupid town.

  Kyara turned away, trying to hide her reddened eyes in the dark.

  "Nothing," she said. "I'm just not ... ."

  The heavy fall of boots cut her off as Jason crossed the room.

  "What the hell did that idiot say this time?" he asked gruffly, his hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder.

  Kyara shook her head.

  "It was my fault, anyway. I asked him what his problem was."

  Jason let out a long breath. "And he told you." His voice was low, his breath warm against the back of her neck.

  Kyara sniffed. "I asked him to. I just didn't know that people knew, was all. I should have figured, in this town, that people would have heard."

  Jason's response was slower this time.

  "What do people know?"

  Kyara tried not to wail when she replied.

  "That it's my fault my father is dead."

  There was a beat, and then Jason's arms were around her, wrapping around to hold her from behind. He pressed himself against her, leaning the length of his body against the curve of her back. His was still damp from his work, but warm and firm. For just a moment, Kyara just let herself be held, leaning into his strength.

  He just supported her, letting her lean against him in the dark.

  "Kyara. I didn't know. I don't think anyone did. And if they heard, no one would believe it."

  Kyara paused, caught in his arms and the spiral of her own thoughts.

  "But the things he said... it was like he knew..."

  "What, exactly, did he say?" asked Jason, not pulling away. Kyara turned in his arms, her breasts brushing against the wet fabric of his shirt. She stared up into his face in the dim light coming in from the street.

  "He said that I should go crying home to my father, but everyone knows why I can’t."

  Jason's face softened, his eyes exploring her face.

  "Oh, Kyara. He didn't know."
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  Kyara blinked up at him uncertainly.

  “Rich's a giant racist, has been since I was a kid.” Jason clarified. “He doesn't think any ... well, um, he thinks all African American fathers aren't around. He was saying you had a deadbeat dad, not that, uh, your father had passed on.”

  Kyara's eyes went wide, her breath catching in her throat.

  “People have tried to get his head on straight, it just doesn't take,” Jason continued.

  "But he said I didn't do anything, just like when my father died," insisted Kyara.

  Jason shook his head, his eyes still dark with compassion.

  "He doesn't think any Black person does anything, either. He was accusing you of being lazy in general, not of any particular time. He's been spewing his opinion all over town. Too much Jerry Springer and not enough brain, is all. No secret knowledge about your past."

  Well, the racism was really obvious, Kyara admitted to herself. He could be telling the truth.

  "And," Jason continued. "If it helps, the people who know you have told him to shut the hell up."

  Not that many people know me, Kyara thought cynically. But it did kind of help.

  Kyara gave a half smile and raised a hand to wipe away her tears again. As her arm wrapped around the solid strength of his to get to her face, she realized with horror what she must look like.

  "Oh, God, don't look at me," she exclaimed. "I must be a mess!" She tried to pull away, but Jason held her close.

  "Well, I realize I'm covered in mud, so not really in a position to judge, but you look beautiful to me."

  His quiet words hung in the air between them, filling the night.

  Jason broke eye contact first, stepping away. Kyara felt a surge of disappointment as the warmth of his arms withdrew from around her. For a moment her mind was filled with the image of what it would be like to go to him, strip off his clinging shirt, and press herself against the broad expanse of his chest. Only uncertainty stopped her.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "You've had a rough night. I shouldn't be hitting on you when you're emotionally vulnerable."

  Kyara locked on to part of his statement.

  "So," said Kyara, still gazing up at his face, "To be clear, you were hitting on me."

  Surprise filled his face for a moment, and then he chuckled.

  "Definitely."

  He's still covered in mud. I could invite him up to use my shower. Kyara took a long, deep breath, trying to slow her fluttering heartbeat. But it has been a long day, and he's trying to be a gentleman. Besides, I look like a hot mess. If he's going to use my shower, I want to look good.

  Kyara pushed away an image of her slipping into the shower with him, his soapy hands gliding over the ebony gleam of her skin. She took another deep breath.

  "Good," she said at last, and watched him smile. "Keep it up."

  He grinned all the way out her door, his smile matching her own.

  Kyara was prepared to be to spend the next Tuesday nervous, sure that everyone would have heard how she ran out on last week by now. When the day came, though, she didn't have time to be concerned.

  Starting in the early afternoon, orders began to come in, even after the teens had ordered their daily dose of fries and Mrs. Waite her plain chicken breast.

  Though they came slowly at first, as six-thirty approached, Kyara began to worry that she wouldn't be able to close in time to go help out on the trail after all. Even though it was a good problem to have, Kyara found herself fighting her disappointment.

  It's my one night off, she complained to herself.

  "Crystal," she eventually called out into the dining area. The teen's face poked through the pass a moment later.

  "Yeah, Ms. B?" Crystal asked.

  "I know you normally get Tuesday nights off, but are you available to work later this evening? It doesn't look like I'm headed out onto the trail tonight."

  Crystal blinked at her.

  "Uh, are you sure?" asked Crystal.

  "Yeah," replied Kyara regretfully. "We're just not doing well enough to close down if we're busy."

  "Have you had time to look in the dining room?" asked Crystal, giving her an odd look.

  "Why?" asked Kyara. "Have people pretty much cleared out?"

  Crystal's face disappeared from the pass, reappearing a moment later as she pushed open the door to the dining area.

  The room behind her was filled. The babble of voices washed over Kyara, distracting her for a moment as she tried to work out what Crystal was showing her.

  Every face in the dining room, every single one, was someone from the trail project.

  They didn't look up. They didn't smile at her, or even acknowledge her presence. They were just there.

  Kyara went back into the kitchen with a smile.

  By 6:30, people had stopped ordering and were just gathered, milling around out in the dining area while Kyara closed down the pass.

  I can't survive on one good night a week, but this was an unbelievably nice gesture, she thought.

  She stepped into the dining area as happy as she'd been in a long, long time.

  Jason was already rallying the troops and getting them organized for their activities that night, giving Kyara a moment to take in the crowd. They were all there, with one exception. Officer Marsh was nowhere to be seen.

  Kyara was just fine with that.

  As they began to file out the back door to get the bags of gravel, Kyara slid in next to Caitlin, K, and Ashley.

  "Did you all plan this?" she asked quietly.

  "Not us," replied Caitlin. "It was fearless leader. He figured we should meet here so we can all grab a bag of the gravel."

  So it is just a one time thing.

  "Plus, you're literally the only place in town with air conditioning. Much nicer than meeting outside," pointed out K.

  "Yeah. We'll probably keep meeting there," said Caitlin casually. Ashley nodded.

  The truck out back wasn't the usual red pick-up. Instead, it was a huge SUV, blocky and massive. The back was open, and people were tossing the bags of gravel into it.

  Figures, thought Kyara. The only time I need a parking lot is when people show up to take away the material for my parking lot.

  Still, the work went quickly. As Kyara hauled her bag into the back of the new vehicle, Jason approached. He gave her a little smile, almost shy. He opened his mouth for a moment, but didn't speak. He just helped her haul the bag into the back, then turned to K to do the same.

  With the back of the SUV full of bags of gravel, they had to walk up the path. The SUV turned out to be Jason's, so he drove on ahead. The rest of them walked, noting places the path could be improved further.

  Finally, Kyara had to ask.

  "So, where's Officer Marsh?"

  K snorted.

  "He got himself un-invited," said K. "A few of us went over to his house last Wednesday, and we wound up having it out on the lawn. The 'officer' said some things that people who are not him have pretty much avoided saying since the 60s. He said them pretty loud, too, before he realized how many people could hear him."

  Kyara's jaw dropped.

  "Oh," she said. "I didn't realize he felt that strongly." Or that anyone would care if he did, Kyara added to herself silently.

  "Neither did anyone else," said Caitlin. "I'd be surprised if he's still sheriff after the next election."

  Ashley nodded again, then cleared her throat nervously. Kyara looked at her, nervous about what would come next.

  "Jay's not my boyfriend," Ashley blurted out.

  Whoa, gear-shift, thought Kyara, still trying to process the town siding with her instead of the sheriff, at least passively.

  "A lot of the things Marsh had to say were about you being a whore here to steal boys away from our nice white girls," explained K, one eyebrow quirked.

  "And you're not," Ashley admitted. "Stealing him. Or a whore, obviously. I mean, I always hoped, and everyone basically assumed, but ... he's single." The look of los
s and loneliness on Ashely's face reminded Kyara of her own. Kyara crossed the path to her, wrapping her arm around the blond for a hug.