Million Dollar Cowboy

by Lori Wilde

  “And because you’re a forgiving soul who believes the best about people, you did,” he guessed.

  “Foolishly, yes.” She cringed, hitched in a deep breath, and finally got out the rest of the story on a long rush of air. “But of course, he didn’t stop. I was too ashamed to tell my family what was happening. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and I moved out of the apartment complex while he was out of town. But then he started stalking me. Endless phone calls. Showing up at my school and at my job.”

  His entire body flushed hot then cold. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but he knew she needed to tell it.

  Her voice grew softer. “One night as I was leaving evening classes, he cornered me in the parking lot. He told me he loved me. I told him it was over between us. We argued. He attacked me.”

  “No!” Ridge said hotly, hoarsely, her words hitting him solid as a blow.

  Her nod was barely there, as if she had no energy for it. “He choked me. Said if he couldn’t have me, he’d make sure no one else ever did. I thought I was going to die.”

  It killed him to think of her suffering like that. Ridge knotted his hands into crabapple fists.

  “It was terrifying. If another student hadn’t happened by when he did …” She trailed off again, brought a hand to her neck.

  Thank God for that other student!

  Ridge’s fists were squeezed so tightly the veins on his knuckles bulged. If the man who’d hurt Kaia had been there, Ridge would have beaten him to a pulp.

  “He dropped me and ran off. The other student took me to the police station and I got a restraining order against him. The cops went to arrest him, but he’d disappeared. Even so, I was too afraid to stay in College Station by myself. That’s the real reason I took a break from vet school. Not because of the accident. But because of him. I needed to come home.”

  Ridge grunted. Anger pulsed through him with every beat of his heart. Not knowing what to say that wouldn’t scare her or make things worse, he said nothing.

  “With the help of my family and a counselor, I worked through the emotional baggage. I’ve put it behind me, and honestly, I hardly think about him anymore. But once in a while, like when you kissed the scar, the fear bubbles to the surface.”

  Simultaneously, they both blew out pent-up breaths. Ridge ached to draw her into his arms, to promise her no man would ever hurt her again, but her tense body language warned him off.

  “Did the police ever catch him?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice growing even heavier than before.

  Relief loosened his muscles. Thank God the stalker had been apprehended. “Did he go to prison?”

  “No.” Her answer was matter-of-fact, to the point, but her shoulders drooped, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Pulling herself in, making her body small.

  There was more to the story and it was hard for her to tell.

  Ridge’s gut clamped down. Had the justice system failed? Was the son-of-a-bitch still out there? Still threatening women? Still searching for Kaia?

  “What happened?” Ridge heard outrage boil in his voice. Felt it like an electrical jolt. “Why isn’t he rotting in a prison cell?”

  She shook her head. Moistened her lips. Paused for a long time. Finally spoke. “He killed himself.”

  “Good. Saved me from having to track him down and do it for him,” Ridge said fiercely, a kneejerk reaction.

  But then he immediately felt a punch of guilt. As horrified as he was that Kaia had been through such an ordeal, the troubled man had committed suicide. Obviously, he’d been in great emotional pain and hadn’t gotten the help he needed. Society had failed him.

  She laughed, a strange, mirthless sound of relief, followed by a troubled noise of shame as she dropped her face into her hands. He touched her shoulder, felt her muscles bunch. He lowered his hand. Unsure if he was helping or making things worse.

  Raising her head, she bravely met his eyes. “It was sad.” Pity rearranged her face. “He was mentally ill. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about him anymore, but what a tragic way for a life to end. I …” Her voice cracked. “He was nice to me at first. I had no idea he was so unhinged. I wish …”

  Remorse.

  He could see it on her. She was a good person. And a man had died. No matter how deranged he might have been, no matter how much he might have hurt her, the depth of Kaia’s compassion triggered regret.

  And Ridge loved her all the more for her kindheartedness. The way she was able to step outside her own experiences and walk a mile in someone else’s shoes.

  “The police found him …” She had to pause again. He could tell how much the story was taking out of her. “Hanging from a tree in the park where we’d once picnicked, a suicide note in his car.”

  “Jesus, Kaia.” Ridge pulled his palm down his face, a tumult of feelings knocking him every which way—anger for what had happened, sorrow for what she’d suffered, fear that there were plenty more trouble people out there, and distress that he hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him most. But how could he have known?

  “I survived.”

  Yes, she had. Brave woman. “I’m sorry as hell you had to go through that.”

  “I just wish he could have gotten the help he needed.” There were tears in her eyes. “I wish I’d seen the signs before things got as bad as they did.”

  “You’re a much better person than I am,” he said. “I can’t grieve for him. Not after what he did to you.”

  She raised her head, met his gaze. “He was a boy once. He had a father who loved him. He had family and friends who suffered as much as I did. I can’t forget that. And I can’t help thinking I could have done more to help him.”

  “His mental health wasn’t your responsibility.”

  “Whose responsibility was it?” she asked, searching his face as if she genuinely wanted an answer.

  “Not yours.”

  “That’s easy enough to say, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like I should have done something. But then again, another part of me is relieved I don’t have to constantly look over my shoulder, waiting for him to pop up. I’m not proud of those feelings, but there they are.”

  “Aww.” He shook his head. “You poor kid.”

  “No! Don’t you dare feel sorry for me!” she barked, and shook a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare!”

  Whoa! Her quick about-face brought him up short. He held up a palm, lifted apologetic eyes.

  “He used to say that to me all the time. I’m not a poor anything. I’m lucky and blessed and loved. Yes, I’ve had struggles and challenges, but it’s made me stronger, not weaker.”

  Ridge slapped a hand over his mouth. Dammit! No wonder she’d reacted the way she had when he’d kissed her scar.

  “The last thing I want is anyone’s pity.”

  “I get that,” he said.

  She squeezed his hand.

  He squeezed back.

  “I was stupid,” she whispered. “So trusting. I grew up in a place where most people have your best interest at heart. I’d never brushed up against someone like him before.”

  Tears tracked down her cheeks. It struck him like a blow—her shame. She blamed herself for the way that crazy bastard had treated her.

  “But I forgave him because I needed to do it for me. I realize now he had mental issues and I wasn’t adept at reading the signs.”

  “Kaia,” he said gently. “Look at me.”

  Reluctantly, she raised her head, but skimmed over his eyes, fixing instead on his brow.

  He reached out, cupped her chin in his palm.

  She tensed but didn’t draw away.

  “Kaia”—he repeated her name, drilling down, and tapping in—“look at me.”

  Finally, she met his eyes and he felt the jolt of their connection. It was strong. Unmistakable. The instant they peered into each other, the magnetic pull yanked their gazes together, until he was unsure if he could look away, should he want to.
>
  “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “No.” She hitched in a breath. “I’m not being hard enough.”

  He rubbed the flat of his thumb against her knuckles. Felt her shiver. “Beating yourself up for someone else’s bad behavior solves nothing.”

  Her laugh was a bark, short and bitter. “I was such a poor judge of character. That was my fault.”

  “You are a trusting soul, and you shouldn’t have to apologize for being who you are.”

  “Who I am landed me in a world of hurt.”

  “Sweetheart, please. Ease up on yourself.”

  She cocked her head and studied him for a long breath. “You could take your own advice and get a couple hundred miles farther on down the road of life.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’re pretty hard on yourself, Ridge Lockhart. You’re not responsible for either your mother’s or your father’s behavior.”

  “Touché,” he agreed. “But right now, we’re talking about you. You are a strong, competent, capable woman with a huge heart, but you can’t save the entire world. And you have to take care of yourself before you can take care of anyone else.”

  “I’m starting to figure that out.”

  “You have family and friends. You don’t have to carry this burden on your own. We’re here just waiting to help you. All you have to do is ask.” He touched her jaw, tilted her chin up. “Are you hearing me?”

  She squirmed away from him. “Your turn.”

  “What?”

  “You promised me, remember? My dark secret for yours.”

  He had made that promise. Wished he hadn’t. Cast his mind around for another story he could substitute for it.

  Luck was with him. The light in the chapel came on and Ember and Ranger walked in looking for Ember’s lost purse.

  And Ridge was off the hook.

  Chapter 18

  Early on Sunday morning after her night with Ridge, Kaia went to see Granny Blue.

  The front porch was typical of the small adobe houses in Cupid, covered with a red tile roof awning, and just wide enough to accommodate a rocking chair. The cane-bottomed rocking chair in question was weathered and creaky. It rested atop the jute rug Granny had woven herself.

  A short square table squatted beside the rocker. Atop the table rested the rainbow yarn of a newly started knitting project; a white candle burned halfway, a deck of Tarot cards worn thin from use, and a tin of cherry-scented pipe tobacco.

  Granny Blue didn’t smoke, but Pawpaw had, and she kept the tobacco to sniff when she got lonesome for his smell.

  Through the open front door, the sounds of Benny Goodman’s “Moonglow” scooted out.

  Kaia stepped onto the porch and immediately set off a chorus of barking, yipping, and whining as Granny Blue’s exuberant pack galloped out to greet her.

  Laughing, she plunked down on the wooden planks and allowed herself to be covered in hounds, five dogs in all.

  Mixed breed rescues. Smoke, Sage, Aggie, Tim, and Molly. She petted and cooed to each one in turn as the rest surrounded her, sniffing her hair, wriggling their bodies, wagging tails, hopping on her back.

  Grandfather Alzate, who had a natural affinity for animals, was the one who’d taught her to love and cherish all God’s creatures.

  One of her favorite memories was the day when she and her grandfather found a litter of motherless infant kittens living in a drainpipe. The local vet had decreed they would not likely survive and warned Kaia not to get attached to them. Even her parents hadn’t been optimistic about the kittens’ chances, and they warned her not to name the babies.

  But Pawpaw had other plans. He vowed those kittens would live, and he helped her pick out the names. Mittens for the gray tabby with white feet. Dusk for the full gray one. Fluff for the smallest one with an excess of fur.

  He showed her how to hold them delicately, how to make a soft warm bed for them, how to feed their tiny mouths milk from an eyedropper. He taught her a Native American healing song to sing to them and told her fiercely, Never be afraid to love with all your heart, Kaia, girl. Death can steal us away at any time. So love now. Love hard. And never apologize for it.

  From that moment on, Kaia had gone all in. Loving each and every animal that crossed her path with a fervency that sometimes troubled her parents. And with each pet that died, she grieved, but the animal’s passing never stopped her from loving anew.

  But while she loved all creatures, great and small, dogs were secretly her favorite. She loved dogs for their sheer enthusiasm and die-hard loyalty.

  “Hello, hello.” She greeted each exuberant dog in turn. “I love you too.”

  In unison, they licked her face.

  “Guess what?” she confided in them. “The most amazing thing has happened. You’re not gonna believe.”

  “That must be Kaia squeaking the boards on my front porch.” Granny’s voice drifted through the open door. “The dogs go mad for you.”

  “That’s because I have treats.” She giggled and took five small squares of dried liver from the front pocket of her shirt and doled them out.

  The dogs quivered with delight.

  Granny Blue appeared in the doorway. “Ah, water has rolled in,” she said, in that cryptic way of hers, referring to the fact Kaia was born in Pisces, a water sign. “And here I was so thirsty.”

  The dogs turned and raced into the house, Kaia following.

  Benny Goodman cut off in midswing as Granny lifted the arm on the record player, and switched it off. Sighed nostalgically. “Nothing like vinyl.”

  “Morning, Granny.”

  She pulled Kaia into her arms for a fierce hug. Hugging Granny wasn’t easy. Kaia had to bend so low her chin almost touched the top of Granny’s head and cradle her thin shoulders carefully so as not to hurt her frail bones.

  If a good stiff wind kicked up, it would blow tiny Granny Blue halfway across the desert.

  Her grandmother wore a faded brown calico housedress, and well-worn, leather-soled moccasins. The open room that served as living room, kitchen, and dining room was lit only by sunlight shining in under the partially raised shades. The Saltillo floor tiles had been designed in the pattern of a medicine wheel. Kaia knew the medicine wheel four directional quadrants by heart—physical, emotional, spiritual, and mental. She didn’t know how much of the old lore she believed, but she trusted Granny Blue’s wisdom.

  The room was minimally furnished—a rustic couch handmade from piñon wood and topped with goose down cushions covered in colorful Native American designs, a round antique end table, another rocking chair, and a square table circa 1980, painted University of Texas burnt orange that served as a stand for an old tube TV. In the corner of the room was a kiva-style fireplace.

  The cedar dining room set was older then Kaia’s mother, and Granny Blue waved a hand at one of the sturdy chairs. “Sit,” she directed, just as the teakettle on the stove whistled.

  All five dogs sat at once, eyes trained on Granny Blue.

  “You already had the kettle on?” Kaia plunked down at the table, used the toe of her boot to scratch the back of the nearest dog. The other four gathered around her foot, waiting their turns.

  Granny Blue smiled an ambiguous smile. “The cactus rose bloomed this morning.”

  “You knew I was coming?”

  “I knew someone was coming. You must pay closer attention to the world around you, Ky. Signs are everywhere if you will but look and listen.” Granny plodded to the stove, lifted the kettle’s handle with a knitted potholder, and poured water into two teacups already sitting on the sideboard.

  Granny Blue carried the cups to the table, went to the cupboard for a tin filled with various flavors of teas and a sleeve of Fig Newtons. She sat down across from Kaia, eyed her a moment, and then plucked a tea bag from the tin and passed it to her.

  Kaia made a face. “Echinacea?”

  “You need to keep your strength up,” Granny Blue mused.

&nb
sp; “What makes you say that?”

  Granny Blue shrugged, a common response she gave to questions that had no solid answer. “A feeling.”

  “Could I have peppermint instead?”

  “Are you having digestive issues?”

  “No, I just like it, and it goes better with Fig Newtons.”

  Granny Blue shook her head, but slid the tea tin toward her.

  “Thanks.” Kaia claimed the peppermint tea, and they both dunked tea bags into the water steaming from their cups.

  They sipped in silence, munching on Fig Newtons, and then Granny Blue said, “What is your news?”

  “Who says I have news?”

  “You don’t visit on Sunday mornings. Something is different.”

  Kaia poked the tip of her tongue against the inside of her cheek, trying to think of the best way to broach the topic. “I … um …” She cleared her throat, took a sip of tea.

  Studying her intently, Granny Blue leaned forward, but said nothing. Warm wind stirred through the open window, blowing wisps of silver hair that had strayed from her braid against her noble cheekbones and craggy jaw.

  “I … well …” Kaia moistened her lips, pressed a palm to the back of her head, couldn’t quite meet Granny’s fierce dark-eyed gaze. “I’ve got questions. Lots of questions.”

  “What is puzzling you, Ky?”

  “Before I say anything, please tell me again the story of what happened when you met grandfather.”

  “You’ve heard the story dozens of times.”

  “I need to hear it again.”

  Granny Blue’s face and voice melted into downy softness. In that moment, Kaia saw exactly what she must have looked like as a young woman.

  “Ah,” she said. “I see. Tell me what you’ve been hearing.”

  Kaia chuffed out the breath of air she’d been holding. “A beautiful, soft humming noise buzzing right at the base my brain, and I need an explanation for it.”

  Granny Blue lowered her eyelashes. “You know the explanation.”