by Leigh Bale
She pointed toward the mountains. “That stallion is injured. He fought with a bachelor, and I was trying to get a closer look to see how bad the wound might be.”
Her declaration surprised him. Since when did a Forest Service employee care if a wild stallion was wounded or not?
“The way he hightailed it out of here, I’d say he’ll be just fine,” Cade said. “It’s not wise to come out here and gawk at the mustangs. They can be very dangerous.”
Her pink lips tightened defensively. “I wasn’t gawking. I was checking water levels and observing the horses, trying to learn their habits and see how well fed they are.”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “You can call it whatever you like. It’s the same thing.”
“I wasn’t gawking,” she insisted.
Okay, he wouldn’t argue with her about it. “So, how’d it all work out for you?”
She didn’t seem to catch his humor.
“They saw me when I changed position.” A frown of disappointment creased her forehead.
“As if a wild stallion would ever let you get close enough to offer first aid.” Cade muttered the words beneath his breath. What was she thinking? A mustang would never let her walk up to him and bandage his injured leg.
Her expression darkened. “I know that. I just wanted to see if he needed help.”
“Do you come out here often?” Cade asked.
Her gaze met his without flinching. “Every Friday, when I have the time. But not just here in Secret Valley. I make excursions to several areas, checking the water sources in the mountains and valleys. Quite frequently, I come upon the horses. What’s your name?”
Cade stared at the Forest Service woman for several moments, mesmerized by her commanding presence in spite of her short height and slim build. Not many people would get this close to a wild horse. Most stallions, even the tame ones, were fierce and treacherous. This woman had grit, he’d give her that. Or perhaps she was too foolish to realize the danger she’d been in. Another city girl who didn’t realize that wild horses were wild.
“Most people call me Cade.” He rested his arms across the saddle horn and leaned forward.
She paused as though waiting for him to ask her name. But honestly, he didn’t want to know any more about her. In the ensuing silence that followed, Flash flicked his tail at a fly.
“Are you from around here?” she asked.
Cade jerked his thumb up. “I own a small ranch just west of here.”
“Ah, Sunrise Ranch.” She nodded.
He wasn’t surprised she knew his place. The community wasn’t large, and everyone knew everyone else. So, why hadn’t he met this woman before? He longed to ask where she’d come from, but resisted the urge to show any interest.
“My name is Lyn,” she said. “I’m fairly new in town. Only been here two months, so I haven’t had an opportunity to meet you yet.”
“Yeah. Come on. I’ll take you to your truck.” He removed his foot from the left stirrup and reached out a hand to help her step up behind him on his horse. His mind kept repeating her name. Lyn. It suited her—feminine yet decisive.
“No, thanks. I can walk.”
She limped away, and he watched her with a bit of doubt. Maybe it was for the best. It wouldn’t bode well if someone saw him riding with a Forest Service employee. He’d never hear the end of it. Instead, he rode along beside her, just in case she changed her mind.
“Did you hurt yourself?” He jutted his chin toward her left ankle.
“Just a sprain. I was out here checking the damage to the watering hole when I saw the horses. I didn’t expect Buck to attack me. I’m sure he was still feeling defensive after his fight with the bachelor stallion. Otherwise, I doubt he would have bothered with me.”
“Buck?”
“Yeah, that’s what I named the buckskin.”
Cade’s jaw went slack, but he quickly turned his face away so she wouldn’t see his surprise. “You actually named one of the stallions?”
“Uh-huh. I take pictures of all the wildlife I see out here on the Stokely Ranger District.” She explained about naming the stallions of each herd so she could keep track of them in her reports.
“Wait a minute. You’re the new forest ranger?” He’d heard they were getting a new ranger in town, but had no idea she’d be a woman, or that she’d care about the wildlife enough to document them.
“That’s right.” She nodded and smiled pleasantly.
“Hmm.”
“You don’t sound pleased.”
“I’m just indifferent.” And stunned. A petite, attractive woman wasn’t his idea of what a forest ranger ought to look like. In fact, he’d never met a woman ranger before. Especially not one this pretty. Most of the rangers he’d met were men with pot guts. Overbellies who wouldn’t listen to reason. At least not where the wild horses were concerned. Cade wasn’t sure what to think about this turn of events.
“I suppose you’re planning to round up the wild horses and take them off the range,” he grumbled.
“Not if I can help it.” She kept her gaze trained on the rocky ground in front of her.
“What do you mean?”
“I love the wild horses. But I also love the elk, antelope, bighorn sheep and mule deer. And they need to eat and drink out here, too.”
“There’s plenty of feed for all the wildlife,” he said.
She stopped and looked at him squarely, resting her hands on her slim hips. A blaze of fire sparked in her eyes. As stunning as the wild mustangs he’d seen minutes earlier. “No, there’s not. Buck’s herd is starving. They’re too lean—I could see that with my own eyes. And they’ll soon be out of water.”
What she said went against everything Cade had been brought up to believe in. “Bah! The mustangs have been running wild across this land for centuries. They’ll make do. They always survive.”
“Yes, but many will die a slow, cruel death. A lot of elk and deer will suffer the same fate. There isn’t enough water and feed out here to sustain so many wildlife and domestic livestock, too.”
He waved a hand. “You’re just another cow lover. Get rid of all the ranchers’ fat cattle, and the wildlife will have enough feed to live on.”
She chuckled, not seeming offended in the least. “Well, I do enjoy eating a nice steak and hamburger now and then. But the ranchers are definitely restricted on how many cattle they can graze on public lands. They don’t take more than their fair share, believe me. I won’t let them.”
That was just the problem. He didn’t believe her. “Ma’am, there are more important things out here than the ranchers and their cattle.”
She brushed her hand across some sage. “There are miles of sagebrush out here. It’s edible, but provides very little nourishment for the horses. They need grass. Wild horses don’t migrate to better areas when food and water runs out. They just stay here and starve. And please, call me Lyn.”
Not if he could help it.
She poked a tuft of Great Basin wheatgrass with the tip of her scuffed boot. “It takes fifty acres of this kind of land to feed one horse for one month. That doesn’t include elk and mule deer, nor any cattle, either. You can do the math as easily as I can to figure out how many miles of land are needed to keep that wild-horse herd happy and healthy. But I can tell you this area can sustain about one hundred and fifty wild horses. We currently have over four hundred and fifty horses living in and around this national forest. And that’s too many if we don’t want to see them starve to death.”
She turned and continued walking. In spite of his desire not to, he found himself liking the jaunty bounce of her hair. Spunky and sure of herself. He’d never met anyone like her.
He flinched when she whirled around and continued her dialogue.
“And you’re wrong about the cattle. They’re just as important as the wild horses. Every man, woman and child in this country needs to eat. And cattlemen make their living by growing cows. The horses are important. The cows are important. And so is the other wildlife out here. The issues aren’t easy, but we need to find ways to make it all work together. And I have some ideas, if you’d like to hear them...”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Forget it. I’ve heard it all before, and I doubt you have anything new to add that’ll make a difference to me.”
“Have it your way.” With a simple shrug, she kept walking. No argument. No blustering anger. She seemed easygoing and laid-back. Disarming in her candor. And he couldn’t help wondering about her ideas. For the first time, he really wanted to know. But asking her to explain seemed a bit like admitting defeat right now.
They soon arrived at her truck, her boots and pant legs covered by a thin sheen of dust. As she unlocked and opened the door to the driver’s seat, she tilted her head to look up at him. “We might have conflicting opinions, Cade, but I can make a big difference here in Stokely. And I intend to do just that.”
She climbed inside and reached for the armrest to pull the door closed. Before she did so, she gave him a smile so bright that it made his jaw ache. “Thanks again for all your help. I appreciate you being so neighborly.”
He nodded once in acknowledgment, his tongue tied in knots.
As she started the ignition and pulled away, the tires of her truck bounced over the washboard road. Cade sat on his horse and stared after her, feeling withdrawn and out of sorts. He didn’t agree with her assessment of the wild- horse situation, and yet he felt as though he’d just been scolded by his mother. In the nicest way possible.
He’d noticed the growing herds of horses becoming emaciated. But the beliefs planted in his mind throughout his childhood were hard to ignore. Wild horses should be left alone to live in freedom. The government shouldn’t interfere. Right? Of course he was right!
Nope, he didn’t like the new forest ranger, but he also couldn’t deny that she seemed to know her business here. He just wished he didn’t need to have any more dealings with her in the future. Since he was the wild-horse spokesman for the Toyakoi Shoshone Tribe, Cade figured that wasn’t likely. He frequently participated in meetings and demonstrations to protect the wild horses.
Oh, yes. He’d see the new forest ranger again sometime soon. Much to his regret.
Chapter Two
“How’d school go today?” Lyn tightened her fingers around the steering wheel as she pressed on the brake. Her car came to a halt at the only stoplight on Main Street in the town of Stokely. Population eleven thousand and twenty-three, including dogs, cats and gophers.
“None of the kids like me.” Kristen’s simple reply vibrated with hurt and anger.
“I’m sure that’s not true, honey.” Lyn glanced at her ten-year-old daughter, who sat next to her, tugging against her seat belt.
“Yes, it is.”
“It just takes time to get to know everyone when you’re the new kid in town. Maybe you could invite one of the girls in your class over to the house to play on Saturday.” Lyn lightened her voice, trying to sound positive. Trying to encourage her daughter the only way she knew how.
The stoplight turned green and she pressed on the gas, moving slowly down the street.
“They’ll never like me.” Kristen tugged her skirt lower across the C-Leg prosthetic limb on her right leg as though trying to hide as much of the amputation as possible.
Lyn studied her child’s tight profile and long white-blond hair. The girl was beautiful. If only the other children would treat her like a normal kid. But that was just the problem. Kristen wasn’t normal. And she never would be. “How can they not like you? They hardly know you yet. We’ve only been here a couple of months.”
Kristen tapped her knuckles hard against the socket of the prosthetic limb. “This is all they see, Mom. They call me peg leg and gimp.”
Lyn’s heart wrenched. Kids could be so cruel. If only they’d get to know Kristen, they’d learn what a smart, sweet girl she was. And so easy to love.
“I hate it here. I want to go home.” Tears watered Kristen’s voice as she flounced around and glared out the window.
“We are home, honey.” Lyn wanted to cry, too, but didn’t think that would do Kristen any good. Alone at night in her dark bedroom, Lyn allowed her emotions to flow across her pillow. But in the light of day, she must be strong. For both her and Kristen’s sakes.
“Maybe you could wear blue jeans more often.” Dresses were easier in case Kristen needed to adjust her prosthetic limb, but pants hid the apparatus from view.
“It won’t help. I limp and can’t run. They know something’s wrong with me. They don’t like me.”
Lyn’s heart ached for her daughter. How she wished she could protect her from this pain. Even if they covered up the prosthesis, Kristen jerked so hard when she walked that people frequently stared at her. They knew immediately that the girl was impaired, but they didn’t understand why. Lyn had even heard a woman in the grocery store yesterday whisper loudly that Kristen must be retarded. As if her leg had anything to do with her brain. In fact, the opposite was true. Kristen pulled top grades in science and math. If only she could walk better, she might fit in more.
“Well, I adore you,” Lyn said with a smile.
“You don’t count, Mom. You have to love me because I’m your kid.”
Lyn snorted. “If that were true, there’d be a lot fewer abusive mothers in the world, honey. I love you more than my own life. And that’s that.”
Kristen tossed her head and huffed out a big sigh of exasperation. “You just don’t understand.”
Lyn understood more than Kristen realized. But friends and peer pressure were so important to a young girl. Especially a girl with only one leg. Moms didn’t count at this point in life. If only it had been Lyn who had lost her leg in the accident. Not Kristen. Not her precious little girl.
Pressing on the brake again, Lyn came to a stop sign. A lance of vivid memory pierced her mind. The car crash had been caused by a drunk driver, now incarcerated in a state penitentiary. But that wouldn’t restore Kristen’s leg or bring Rob back. Nor did it ease Lyn’s conscience over her part in what had happened. Though it’d only been a year earlier, Kristen had been so young. Only nine years old. They’d both lost the father and husband they dearly adored.
Rob. The love of Lyn’s life.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. No one behind her, so she paused long enough to talk with Kristen for a few moments. Reaching across the seat, Lyn brushed her hand down the silken length of Kristen’s hair. “I know this is hard, honey. But you’re so pretty and smart. All your teachers tell me you’re their best student. You’ve got a lot going for you. We’ve just got to keep trying.”
Kristen shrugged off Lyn’s hand, her voice thick with resentment. “You mean I’ve got to keep trying. I’m the one without a leg, not you. And Daddy’s dead. The only reason I’m a good student is because I promised him.”
Oh, that hurt. Not a day went by that she didn’t feel guilty for surviving uninjured while her husband had died and her daughter lost her leg. But Kristen was too young to understand how much a mother loved her child. Or just how much Lyn missed her husband.
“I know, honey. Please believe me—if I could take this pain from you, I would. I just want to help. We can’t give up. Not ever.”
Lyn might have reached over and hugged Kristen, but a driver pulled up behind them and blared the horn of their car. Lyn jerked her head around. Kathy Newton, a woman she’d recently met at Kristen’s school, waved at them. Returning the gesture with a plastic smile, Lyn pressed on the gas. Two blocks later, she turned the corner and parked in front of the doctor’s office before killi
ng the motor.
“Maybe this new doctor can help you walk straighter,” Lyn suggested. “Your old doctor highly recommended him.”
A prosthesis specialist in such a small town was rare. Apparently this doctor was a former U.S. marine. Lyn had been told that he’d seen several of his buddies lose their limbs during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and he’d done a lot of work in the field of prosthetics. And that could be really promising for Kristen.
“Nothing can help me walk without a limp. Everyone will always know something’s wrong with me,” Kristen said.
The ominous words were spoken to the glass windowpane. Kristen refused to look at her, and Lyn couldn’t blame her. Since the accident, Lyn could hardly stand to face herself. She’d hoped her transfer to this small ranching town might help make a difference for both of them. The slower pace. Fewer people. The jagged mountains and open, windswept valleys covered by bleached grass and sage. They both needed time to heal. Lyn had no outward scars, but inside, the accident had disfigured her beyond recognition. She’d never be the same again.
Neither would Kristen.
If only there was some way Lyn could go back in time, she’d find a reason to miss their appointment to view the Appaloosa mare. Their family had been so carefree that evening. Excited to buy Kristen’s first horse. Both Lyn and Rob had been raised on a ranch, and Rob had been a regional rodeo champion during high school. They wanted to share their love of equines with their daughter. They’d discussed the idea for months. Kristen was fearless on a horse. She’d make such a great rider.
Lyn had just picked up Rob from work and was driving the car. Kristen had been sitting between them in the front seat, all of their seat belts securely fastened. They’d been talking. Laughing. And then Lyn turned onto a narrow street with a guardrail. The grille of a semitruck filled their view, followed by the sickening thunder of the crash. No time to react. No time to move.
