Dirk.
He stood and threw the ball as hard as he could. Koda raced after it, disappearing over a small rise.
He walked back along the row of pens near the horse barn. Most of the saddle horses had been turned out for the day to enjoy a little fall sunshine and they all turned to look at him. He filled his lungs with the fresh air. Pure Montana air—nothing like it. So far, the hardest part of the job had been leaving it to go and sit in that tiny hole of an office.
He kicked at a small rock. His foot connected harder than he intended. The rock ricocheted off a fencepost and hit a water trough inside one of the pens with a loud clang.
A couple of the horses spooked at the sudden noise. They trotted away, setting off a chain reaction amongst the others. Thundering hooves sent sod flying in an arching spray. Their heads extended forward, ears flat back, puffs of moisture escaping their nostrils.
Way to go. Can’t even go an hour without scaring something. He stopped, resting his hand on the fence, waiting for the horses to settle down.
“Everything okay?”
He turned to find Linda standing beside the barn, watching him. Great. Now he looked like an idiot in front of someone else. “Sure. Just taking a look at the horses.”
“Did Mitch get a chance to assign you a horse yet?” she asked.
“I’m not going to be riding much.”
“Oh? That seems highly unusual for a foreman.” She smoothed back the few hairs that had escaped her messy bun while she’d been working. “Especially since some of the tasks rely on you being able to ride.”
He shrugged. “I was hurt during my deployment a while back. My legs are still recovering and I have some balance issues from time to time.”
“If I can be blunt…” she said, looking directly at him, “if you can’t ride, why would Mitch hire you as a ranch foreman?”
Straight to the point, this one. “He feels I have some other skills he can use.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, resisting the urge to fidget. “Plus, my physical therapist said I’ll be able to ride eventually.”
She continued to study him.
His gaze fell to the ground—and immediately a burst of frustration erupted inside his chest. So what if she doubted his ability? Sure, the veterinarian had been working on the ranch for years, but she didn’t have any say in his position. Mitch is the boss, not her—there’s no reason to feel like I need to convince her I’m right for the job.
Linda’s comforting smile was at odds with her brisk question. “Well, there’s no time like the present to find out whether or not you can ride. Come on. I have just the horse. Let’s see how you do.”
“Now?” His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, but she had already started walking toward the barn.
His heart sped up as they approached the barn. It’s just a little horse ride. You’ll be fine. The words weren’t enough to stop the alarm rising in his chest. His doctors and therapists had spent so long drumming his limitations into his head that riding so soon felt like a bad idea. But if I can’t do it, there’s no way they’ll let me stay.
As he walked inside the cavernous barn, she was already leading a tall gelding, his chestnut coat as fluid as water, out of the stall and into the aisle near the tack room. He had to be about sixteen hands.
“This is Redwood. You hold him while I get him ready.”
Soft eyes met his, so still, they reflected promise. Redwood seemed pretty quiet and patient, and reminded him of the horse his uncle Matt used to ride. Maybe this won’t be so bad. He could only hope.
He ran his hands along the horse’s neck as Linda curried, brushed, saddled, and bridled Redwood.
“I’ll let you do all this next time,” she said, leading the horse outside. “Right now, we just need to see what you can do in the saddle.”
“Okay.” Time to get his head in the game. If he psyched himself out before they even started, he had no chance.
Linda led Redwood into one of the empty paddocks. “This will do for your first practice ride. Not too big, not too small. Now, do you think you can get up by yourself? Or do you want to stand on the fence while I hold him for you?”
John hesitated.
“Koda? Koda!” He heard Katie’s voice in the distance.
Pride kicked in. He hadn’t ridden a horse since high school, and his knee sent a shot of pain through him whenever he bent it too far—but he was not about to let anybody know. Especially not the veterinarian who held his job in her hands.
“I can get on him.” He walked around to the horse’s left side and began gathering up the reins.
“Of course. Just take it slow.” Linda rested her hands against the fence.
He choked back the sharp reply on his lips, and forced himself to smile. Nice guy. “Are you a veterinarian, or a physical therapist?”
She cocked her brow again. Must be her signature look. “I had a pretty good fall off a horse years ago. I’ve been through extensive physical therapy, too. I’ll look out for you.”
His face heated with embarrassment, yet a weird gratefulness for her understanding coexisted with it. Not knowing what to say, he forced his left foot up into the stirrup, and grabbed the saddle horn. He took a moment to gather his strength and pulled himself up into the saddle.
It was a clumsy mount-up—he could feel Redwood stepping over to keep his balance—but he was up and he’d done it by himself. His chest puffed out in response to his elation.
Settling into the saddle, he allowed Linda to adjust the stirrups for him. His grandmother had done the exact same thing when he’d learned to ride as a kid, and the warmth of the memory put him at ease.
She stepped back from her handiwork with an approving look. “Give it a go.”
He nudged the horse with his legs. Redwood began walking around the pen. The motion was both familiar and foreign. Wave after wave of childhood memories flooded over him with every long rocking step the horse took. He eased back in the saddle and let his body become part of the horse’s gentle movement.
The forced bend in his knee caused him no small amount of pain. He ignored it. He was riding a horse! A few months ago, this would have been impossible. But now—a wide grin stretched across his face and stuck there.
Take that, Dr. Evans, and your PTSD! And you, bastard terrorists—you think your piece of shit IED was gonna stop me? For a second he could feel the heat and smoke of the desert. He swallowed as the desire to go back and make things right rose in his chest, even as he knew he’d never be able to do it.
Dirk’s image raced through his mind. A shudder traveled the length of his spine. He tried to concentrate on the horse as he began jogging him around the pen, but the memories came on thick and fast.
“That’s enough.” Linda’s words jarred him out of his dark thoughts. “Let’s bring it in.”
He guided the horse to a stop and gingerly swung himself off the saddle. When he landed on the packed dirt, he winced. His knee had stiffened considerably. He took a careful step. To his relief, his foot held, more achy than painful.
Linda opened the gate for him and motioned him to lead Redwood through. She watched his progress with a sympathetic smile. “You’ll need to practice every day, but I’ll tell Mitch you aren’t hopeless.”
I’m not a pity case, dammit!
“How many other guys work here?” he asked as they made their way back to the barn. His knee still ached, but he’d be damned before he let her see his discomfort. He’d made too much progress.
“Four—including you. Mitch would like to hire at least three more. Last year winter came on early, but every forecast we’ve had suggests this year will be milder, which means more work can be done. Winter’s our slow season, but Mitch wants to be ready.”
“Apparently, I’ll be the one doing the hiring.” A slow smile crossed his face. It felt good to be in charge of something again.
“Fine with me. I’m much happier working with the animals and not the humans, for the most part.”
Koda reappeared, ball in mouth. She barked, dropping the ball, and frisked around at John’s feet.
Linda paused to watch. “Koda does seem quite taken with you.”
“Nice dog,” he replied as nonchalantly as he could. Katie was suspicious enough for two people. He didn’t want to make Linda wonder, too.
“I think she’s got some degree of PTSD. We know she was a military dog, but we don’t have too many details on what might have happened to her. All I know is she sometimes seems startled by certain loud noises—things that don’t bother the other dogs.”
“PTSD? In a dog?”
“Yes. I’ve seen it in dogs and horses both. Is it something you’re familiar with?”
He realized her bluntness was part of her manner, not personal—but irritation rose in his chest. Not this again. Why couldn’t people leave him alone? Whenever he met someone new, they tossed around that word as if they were all licensed psychiatrists.
“I’m only familiar with it in people. Other people.” They led Redwood into the barn and stopped outside the tack room, hooking the left stirrup over the saddle horn so he could loosen the girth.
“Just figured you might be able to help. As a veterinarian, there’s only so much I can do. Katie’s been committed to rehabbing Koda—but when I saw the connection the two of you had, I figured it couldn’t hurt to have one more person in her corner,” she said, handing him a curry comb.
Is she talking about the girl or the dog? He rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache from trying to follow the vet’s conversation.
“I like dogs. That’s all.” The moment the words left his mouth he felt like an idiot. All he wanted to do was get out of there, but he still had to get Redwood unsaddled. “I’ve got to go up to the house and report to Mitch.”
“See you tomorrow,” she said, tipping her hat.
Once Redwood was curried and eating his hay, John set off toward the house. He took his time walking up the winding driveway to the Three Keys Ranch homestead. It was a rambling white affair with a wraparound porch. Large prairie grid windows dotted the outside of the house and a gigantic oak tree spread its thick limbs over much of the roof.
He had to admit he liked the look of the place. He could envision peacefully sitting out there on the porch after a long day’s work, just gazing out over the twilight with a cool drink in his hand and Koda at his feet.
Goddamn. His lips quirked. I am an old man. Fantasizing about sitting on the porch, watching the grass grow? Just as well it’s not my house. He took a deep breath, raising his knuckles to the door. It was Katie’s house, and he was lucky if she’d so much as let him knock on the door.
Chapter 7
Katie stopped when she saw John in the doorway, regretting having changed out of her oversized work shirt, heavy Levis, and boots. Work clothes were armor, warding off unwanted attention. But a simple white t-shirt and fitted jeans might put her in a situation she wasn’t ready to be placed into. Especially with the sexy foreman. Stop thinking of him that way.
She kept the screen door closed between them. “Can I help you?”
“I need to talk to your father.”
“He’s in the kitchen.”
“Thank you,” he said, pulling the door open.
The small entryway wasn’t big enough to hold both of them. Taking a large step back, she ended up against the wall, leaving nowhere to run. She was trapped. Not the good trapped.
Panic set in like a cluster of spark plugs in her abdomen. Her breathing became more rapid, more shallow. Heat traveled up her neck and covered her face. A thick lump formed in her throat. Her brain synapses fired like a hyped up internal aurora borealis. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t swallow.
Closing her eyes, she internally repeated, “I’m ok. I’m home, I’m safe. I’m ok.” Her breath fell into a steady pattern. The heat retreated from her face and her shoulders slumped forward.
A panic attack. In front of John. This night can’t get any worse.
Her eyes opened to meet his face, taut and full of concern. She tried to swallow but her throat stuck, waiting for his response. Her head tilted sideways and brows creased in confusion as he backed out of the hallway and onto the porch.
He raised his hand to the door. “Knock, knock.”
She stared at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Is he serious? “Please tell me you don’t expect me to follow with ‘who’s there?’”
“Comedy’s not my strong field. But I do need to talk to your father.” His eyes flicked over her face.
Shit. No sunglasses and hair tied back. Even worse, she was standing under the light. Instantly she backed up and turned away. “Look, I told you. He’s in there. So just go. Please!”
The heavy creak of floorboards filled the still night air as he walked past without saying another word.
She placed a hand to her face. How could I have been so careless? She ran her fingers over the scarred cheek and slightly asymmetrical eye socket the fractures had left. Her face had healed as much as it was ever going to, and the doctors had told her from the start she would never be entirely the same.
She’d never for an instant forgotten how she looked. Until now.
His fault. Again. Yanking out the rubber band, she brushed her hair down near her face with her fingers. He might have caught her off guard, but she was not going to leave their ranch foreman wandering around her home unaccompanied. Especially since she hadn’t figured out what he was hiding.
She found him standing alone in the living room as if he’d gotten stuck on the way to the kitchen, and she didn’t blame him. A strength filled the room, originating from the wooden walls. The large bay windows—Nickel sleeping underneath—faced the east so the warmth of the morning sun filled the room in the morning. And they offered a beautiful view of the purples, blues, and golds of the evening sunset. Like a Salvador Dalí painting. Everything in the room had been built, made, or bought through the hard work of her ancestors. This home had sheltered the Locke family for four generations.
It was old, heavy and rustic, but comfortable and inviting, too. Gleaming wooden floors lined the entrance hall and continued up the stairs. Plush carpet runners ran down the hall leading to the kitchen. Framed paintings of herding dogs, Black Angus cattle, and stock horses lined the walls, while the wooden beams expertly framed the darker wood of the roof.
“Cozy.” John’s raspy voice danced through the air. “Makes a nice place to relax after a long day on the ranch.” He laughed a little. “The only thing my mother’s house makes me think of is an explosion in a Laura Ashley knock-off store. She’s stoic most of the time, but has this inexplicable fondness for florals and delicate little designs.”
A clatter of dishes caused Nickel to take off like a shot, ever hopeful for food. She followed the puppy into the kitchen, motioning to him to come along.
“Come on in!” Dad smiled, clearly pleased to see John following behind her.
She watched as he studied everything in this room as well. Hadn’t he ever seen a ranch kitchen before? A sizeable stove with eight burners was set up along the wall, while a gleaming wooden island held a basket of fruit and a few trays of desserts. Shining copper pans dangled above the island. The main window in the kitchen opened onto a stunning vista of one of the pastures.
A faint smell of acrid smoke lingered in the air. “Oh no.”
“I’m afraid somebody’s burned the banana bread again.” Her dad stepped away from the stove and held out a loaf pan. He looked almost comical with the floral oven mitts on his large hands. “Too bad, because Katie makes the best.”
“Maybe I’ll get a chance to try it sometime,” John said.
She glared at the back of his head. You should be so lucky.
Her dad dumped the burnt bread into a trash can. “So, John. That you I saw putting Redwood through his paces?”
“Other way round.” John stood stiffly at attention, like he’d only just stopped himself fro
m adding “sir” to the end of the sentence.
Dad offered a bemused smile. “How did it go?”
“Seemed to go fine. Linda said we’d practice every day. I should get the hang of it faster than I thought.”
Katie’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. Somehow, she’d become the third wheel in her own house. “Linda can be persuasive, can’t she?”
Both men spun around, as if finally noticing her presence.
“I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use,” John said.
“Maybe not. But she always has your best interests at heart. That’s what I’ve learned over the years.” Dad turned to wash out the hot pan. A sizzling sound erupted from the sink, followed by a cloud of steam. “By the way, I’ve got the list of five men who’ve called about the other positions. Do you think you can get the interviews done within the next couple of days?”
“Yes, sir.”
And there it was. She rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm. Obviously trying to impress his new boss. But he’d still have to go through her to negotiate pay.
“Glad to hear it. And I’m glad you’ve decided to come aboard. You’ll fit in fine here,” her dad said.
“I’ll do my best,” John said. “If that’s all you need right now, I’ll be going. Looking forward to some sleep tonight.”
“Of course. See you in the morning. And Katie—walk him out to the porch, would you?”
“What? Why?” Her father just smiled patiently at her, turning back to the stove. With a sharp look at John, and Nickel at her heels, she headed for the door. Just as her father asked, she walked all the way out onto the expansive front porch and stopped.
John paused against the porch rail a few steps down. “Beautiful view.”
She looked out over the pastures, at the dark silhouettes of Koda and Two Bits against a velvety sky as they trotted through the nearby fields. The last vestiges of the setting sun disappeared over the horizon, the copper hues giving way to a dusty purple glittered with stars.
“I’ll bet you like sitting out here to relax.”
Hearts Unleashed Page 5
