Forget Me Not

by Madden, J. M.

  Tara Johnson hadn't changed. The first time Lora and Mercy had been to the ranch, she'd been up at the old foreman's cabin sniffing around Chad and he'd had to shut her down. Lora felt kind of bad because Derek's men had bound and gagged her, stealing her truck so that Chad wouldn't be alarmed when it came up the drive that rainy night.

  She'd gotten loose, luckily, and found Brock, so it had all turned out well. Actually, if Brock hadn't arrived when he did, rifle in hand, things might have turned out very different for them all that wild night.

  Though the woman was trying hard, Lora wasn't worried about Chad. He'd proven to her over and over again how much he loved her. If he was willing to literally put his life on the line for her and Mercy, how could she doubt him? In the intervening time since the attack he'd only gotten better, being steady and strong and patient, exactly as she needed him to be. He had a hell of a sense of humor, and they hadn't laughed in all their lives as much as they had with Chad in their lives.

  But… what had she done to prove to him how much she loved him?

  That thought sent a chill through her, because honestly, she hadn't done much. In the time since he'd help her break free from Derek once and for all, she'd started pulling away. Not emotionally, she still loved him desperately, but he'd given her freedom in the ability to make decisions not based on fear anymore. He'd given her the ability to see the world and actually live her life. And the effect on Mercy had been even more profound. When they'd been dodging Derek, their emotions had been caustic. Fear, doubt, anxiety all in self-perpetuating loops. Now, everything was completely different and those loops broken open. Her daughter was learning to engage in life. Mercy connected with people more easily than Lora ever had. And she hadn't been fearful in a very long time.

  Lora looked at her daughter. She had grown half a foot in the past few months, and put on healthy weight. She looked more like an eight year old should. Her green eyes were clear as they watched the commotion in the pen, and the shadow of fear was long gone.

  "This isn't too gross for you, baby?"

  Mercy didn't even spare her a glance, just leaned further over the top of the fence. "Nope,” she said matter-of-factly, “I'm good. I need to learn what they're doing if I'm helping tomorrow."

  For a moment, Lora stared at her daughter, amazed at the maturity in those words and most especially, Mercy’s actions. The sight of the blood and the cries of the animals put Lora on edge. This situation was so far out of her element it wasn’t even funny. Mercy, on the other hand, seemed to be acclimating like ranching was in her blood. Mercy was, quite literally, ready to jump into the Lowell family.

  Lora admired her daughter’s courage.

  Oh, hell.

  Her mind returned to her previous question. What had she done to show Chad how much she loved him? She told him everyday. But there was a devil's advocate in her conscience bitching at her, doubting that assertion, because did she actually tell him that every day over the past year and change since she’d fallen in love with him? When she was hip deep in alligators trying to save the company and pass her classes? No, she hadn't. She knew she hadn't, and it was killing her to admit it.

  From this point on she was going to be the best woman she could be to Chad. She looked down at the ring on her finger. The white gold solitaire shone as brightly as the night he'd given it to her. But it needed a companion ring. It needed a wedding band. She wanted a wedding band.

  She glanced across at the woman on the prancing palomino. If Chad had a matching band on his finger it would probably cut down on a lot of these incidents. It was time she collected on the promise he'd made them, to love and protect her forever. And to always have starlight mints at the ready. She'd have to ask him for one next time they were together.

  * * *

  Lora headed back to the ranch, an idea percolating in her head, and she wondered if they could pull it off.

  Unpacking the truck took a while and Francine came out to help. Garrett sat in the family room in a well-worn leather recliner, punching buttons on a remote. When Lora got a moment, she went in to talk to him and share the pictures she'd taken with her phone.

  "The corral looks good," he said gruffly.

  "Chad and Jackson and Brock did that yesterday."

  She'd taken several pictures of the older calves and some of the new babies, interspersed with pictures of the hands helping out.

  "Francine, come look at these," Garrett called.

  Chad's mother smiled as she leaned over him, her hand resting protectively on his good shoulder. "Oh, look at those pretty babies."

  “I wish I could be out there helpin’,” he murmured.

  There was one picture of Cheyenne with her long leg thrown over a red calf, tying his feet together. Carolyn, her oldest daughter, was handing her something. Their faces were gritty and determined, and exceptionally beautiful, red hair flying around their faces. Garrett looked at that one for a long time. "Those are my girls, Lora," he said proudly, and there was the glimmer of tears in his eyes.

  She showed him the one of Mercy with her arm thrown around Grace, their hats leaning together, bright hair beneath spilling down their shoulders. "More of my girls," he said firmly. "Mercy fits in like she's always been here."

  "She does," Lora agreed. "Chad isn't technically her father but they have so many of the same likes and dislikes."

  "He's her father in every way important," Francine told her firmly.

  Lora nodded. "Yes, he is." She took a deep breath. "I need to think about a few things, but I might have a favor to ask of you guys soon."

  Francine smiled and rested a hand on her own. "Whatever you need, dear. You've helped us so much this week I can't even begin to thank you."

  Lora frowned. "I don't need to be thanked. We're in Denver, but we're still family. I consider you family, anyway."

  "Oh, we do too, Lora, of course we do. We just don't want to impose on your life anymore than we already have."

  "I'm sorry about all this mess," Garrett told her, his eyes regretful.

  "Would you two stop? Please? I love you guys, and I know Mercy does too. We wouldn't rather be anywhere else right now. Now, I'm going to go come up with something clever for dinner for all of us. Francine, do you mind if we use your hot tub later tonight?"

  Her pale eyes lit up. “Absolutely not. Use it all you want!”

  Chapter 14

  Chad sighed as Tara jostled her horse into his own. It was unnecessary and dangerous, and he was getting tired of being nice.

  "Tara, I need you to replace Ian on the back side," Jackson told her as he reined up beside them. "His horse threw a shoe and he’s getting it fixed."

  Chad was never so glad to see the foreman and his big-assed paint. Once again he was where he needed to be when, and it worked in Chad's favor. If he'd had to deal with Tara a minute longer he would have snapped and said things that would not be cool. Tara used to be a friend and he didn't want to ruin relations between their neighboring families. There were as many Johnson ranch hands here today as Lowell.

  "No, you can send someone else."

  She wheeled her horse around, expecting that to be the end of it, but the big paint moved in front of her. "No," Jackson said smoothly. "There's a hole in the line that needs filled. You are my spare outrider. All you're doing here is spooking the calves. Move down the line or go home, because you're no use to me right now."

  With a fling of her hair, she turned the horse toward the outside of the corral and galloped away, spooking more cattle as she passed.

  Jackson sighed. "That girl is a pain in my ass."

  "You? You ought to be in my seat right now," Chad laughed. "Oh, Chad," he mocked in a sing-song voice like Tara's, "when you wear gloves you can't even tell you're not normal any more."

  Jackson laughed. "That's not bad. She once told me I'd better be grateful that the Lowell family had taken me in because otherwise I would be an alcoholic on a reservation somewhere."

  Chad winced, shaki
ng his head. "Well, as least she doesn't discriminate handing out her discrimination. I thought I was the only one lucky enough to get her little jabs."

  "No," Jackson sighed. "We all get it. And she seems oblivious. Still."

  "Well, thank you. I was reaching my breaking point."

  "I know." With a tip of his black hat, Jackson turned and rode away.

  Chad glanced up, looking for Lora through the dust. Had she seen Tara’s little performance?

  She was gone. Mercy was still there in the back of the truck and Grace, Cheyenne's littlest, was sitting with her, but Lora had disappeared. He glanced out to the right. His truck was gone as well. Damn it! Dealing with Tara and her shenanigans had cost him seeing where his fiancée had gone, or even when. Had she seen Tara flirting and taken off because he'd been just trying to ignore it?

  The thought worried him all day. In order to get the steers done, they needed to work into the evening. It was almost eight by the time they got back to the ranch, bedraggled and tired. Chad looked for Lora, though, hoping that she would come out to meet them.

  There she was. Sitting on the front porch with his mom and dad. He urged the horse up to the porch and reached behind him for Mercy's arm. She'd ridden behind him all the way home, chattering a mile a minute.

  He lowered her to the ground and she ran up the steps to share her day. Lora looked up at him and smiled. He wiggled a finger at her and she stepped down onto the bottom step, close enough that he could lean down and kiss her.

  "I missed you, babe," he growled.

  She grinned at him. "You were busy dodging bottle blondes."

  He sighed, shaking his head. "That woman, she's never going to learn. It was bad today and I'm sorry you had to see that. It means nothing to me, I hope you realize that."

  Lora nodded. "I know. I think it's sad actually."

  "I hope she finds someone, I really do."

  "Maybe she’ll find a hobby. Go put your horse away," she told him, patting the red rump. "Then get your shower. I'll have a plate ready for you when you come down."

  "Oh woman, I do love you so!"

  "Love you too, Chad."

  Before he could put the horse away, though, he had to answer Dad's questions about what was going on up at the camp. Yes, they had enough inoculant for the amount of cattle left to be done. Yes, they had had enough hands today. No, no injuries. Yes, he'd watched all the girls when they were in with the calves to make sure they were being safe. No, the semi hadn't gotten stuck like it had last year.

  Chad wished there was a way his father could take part in the round-up, but there just wasn't. The ground was too rough for him to even drive up in a truck, let alone walk on with all of the cattle ruts. If he fell, he would break his arm all over again and that just couldn't happen.

  Chad took his time answering his father's questions because if he had been in the same position he would be doing the same thing. Finally, his father seemed out of questions. "Dad, I need to get Oakley cooled off."

  His father waved at him with his left hand, but Chad could see the disappointment in his eyes. It was going to be a long recovery for Garrett Lowell.

  Oakley appreciated the attention. Chad tied him to the outside post and picked the dirt from his hooves then hosed him down, sluicing all the sweat away with the blade of his hand. Oakley loved the water and bobbed his head when Chad hosed down his neck. He talked to him the entire time and Oakley seemed to enjoy the noise.

  Just as he was finishing up, Brock pulled in with the flatbed truck. Rather than walk straight past Chad on the way in to the barn as he normally did when Chad was home, he paused. "You've done good work the past couple of days. Wasn’t sure if you'd remember what to do."

  "Of course I remembered," Chad laughed. "I did this stuff my entire childhood."

  "Yeah, I know, but it's been a few years since you had to go at it so hard."

  "True. I didn't do nearly what you and Jackson did, though. Only about half the work," he joked, waving his weak hand.

  Brock huffed, shaking his head as he looked at the ground. "Not sure why you joke about it but I thought you kicked ass. I'd hire you as a hand any time."

  Chad wanted to laugh, but he really and truly appreciated that sentiment. His big brother’s good opinion meant a lot to him, it always had. "Thank you for that, Brock. I appreciate it."

  "Luckily," his brother continued, crossing his heavy arms, "you're family and I don't have to pay you shit."

  Chad stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You know, I was just going to return the compliment and tell you what a fantastic horse this was, but now I'll keep it to myself."

  Brock grinned, looking like the light-hearted brother he used to be. "He is pretty nice, isn't he? I trained him for you, you know."

  Turning, Brock headed into the barn. Chad stared at his brother's back. Wait, what? He had trained the horse for Chad?

  Tugging Oakley's lead line, he followed Brock into the barn. The colt went into his stocked stall happily, snatching hay before Chad was even out the door. Then he went to look for his confusing brother.

  "What do you mean you trained the horse for me?"

  Brock looked up from the mare he was cooing to as he brushed her heavy belly. Twisting his mouth, he sighed, looking down at her. "I realized the first time you were here with Lora… hell, even before that. When you first started riding again after you'd been injured you had issues getting on a horse the regular way. They're trained to accept a rider from one side only, and when you break that habit it puts them off. I watched you fight with horses every time you rode, because they usually spooked when you got on them from the other side. I assume your leg can't twist the way it used to or something, right?"

  Chad nodded, stunned at what was coming out of his brother's mouth.

  "So, I trained a couple horses to be, I dunno, ambidextrous. I knew you'd like Oakley, though." He looked up with a grin. "You always liked the bright sorrels like that."

  "I did," Chad agreed. He stared at Brock, wondering when the aliens had abducted him. Had to have been within the past two years. This wasn't the same Brock he was used to. "You did a great job with him."

  Brock shrugged. "There's an equine therapy program for veterans that opened up a few miles away. I've trained a few mustangs for them and donated them."

  Brock wouldn't meet his eyes, and for the first time, Chad was glad of that. It gave him a chance to gather his emotions. He coughed to clear his throat. "You're working with veterans?"

  That shrug again. It seemed strange to see his older brother at a loss for words. "Just here and there. Went over to ask to see what would make it easier for you and I realized they needed more animals."

  "How many have you given them?"

  Brock scratched under the mare's belly and she lowered her head with a sigh. Chad reached out and stroked her forelock from her eyes, rubbing the white star on her head.

  "About ten, eleven. Something like that. The BLM is loving me right now because I'm actually doing something with the animals they foster with me."

  Chad was absolutely floored. Was this why his brother had softened to him recently? Because he'd been working with other veterans?

  “And a few times a month, when they get short-handed, I volunteer. Just helping out with basic riding instruction and stuff. No big deal.”

  Uh, it was a huge deal actually. Chad stared at the top of his brother’s dusty black hat, trying to find words. But if he did find words, his damn throat was so tight he didn’t know if he’d be able to say anything.

  When military personnel returned from overseas, it was sometimes a huge integration process. In the past few years organizations had popped up to help them re-engage in society. Equine therapies seemed to be one of the most effective, though they were sometimes harder to get into. Very often those therapies survived only on private contributions, so the fact that Brock was supporting one was significant.

  Chad had seen first-hand the impact equine therapy and ca
nine therapy had on returned warriors.

  "That's really something, Brock. I appreciate you doing that. The charities that help veterans need all the support they can get."

  Brock glanced up, catching his eye. "Yeah, I know. And the guys seem to really appreciate getting out and riding. You can literally see the confidence building in them when they get on the back of a horse. It’s made me appreciate even more what I do every day.” He paused and glanced at Chad, giving him solid eye contact for a long moment. “I'm sorry I didn't understand what you needed when you came back. I guess I felt like I didn't know how to talk to you anymore. Working with these guys has really opened my eyes to some things. It started with the horses and now we just ... get along."

  Chad blinked, his breath gone. He felt like the sweet-tempered, heavily pregnant mare had just mule-kicked him in the chest. But no, she still stood in the same place accepting the attention the brothers were giving her. Glancing down the aisle way, he looked for the ice. Nope, Texas hadn't frozen over. Brock apologizing to him for being a shit had never even occurred to him as being a possibility today.

  "That's okay. I appreciate that you're getting me now, even if it is nine years later," he laughed.

  Brock gave him a grin. "Hey, I'm trying little brother. Give me that, at least."

  Chad let his smile fall away. "I am, Brock," he said seriously. "Thank you."

  If he'd been closer he probably would have leaned in for a manly hug, but maybe that was pushing it tonight. "Well, I'm going to go grab some dinner and talk to my woman. Will you be okay out here?"

  Brock nodded. "I'll see you bright and early in the morning, little bro. No sleeping in."

  "I don't know," Chad told him. "I'm not getting paid, so..."

  He backed out of the stall to avoid the brush flying his way, but he laughed, easier than he had for a long time.