No Turning Back

by H. L. Wegley

  “That works. I can sleep on the couch. But hopefully, it won’t be like last night.”

  “You mean my nightmare?” Beth lowered her voice to a whisper. “When you held me, no nightmares. I slept just fine.”

  “That’s not a good idea. We’ve already thrown caution to the wind because of our circumstances. But holding a beautiful woman like Beth Sanchez all night …”

  “Forget I mentioned it.”

  “I can’t, now that you mentioned it. It’s all I can think about.” He grinned at her.

  “I never know when you’re teasing or serious. Or are you trying to lure me into dropping my guard?”

  “Beth, you dropped it about twenty-four hours ago. Now you’re dealing with the consequences … me.”

  She didn’t reply.

  “You know, tomorrow we still have a ten-hour drive to get to the ranch.”

  “This has been a long, tiring drive, and we still have six hundred miles to go?” Beth yawned.

  “Blame it on Texas. It took an entire day just to get out of the state.” Drew checked the road behind them.

  Beth had watched him peering into the rearview mirror. “Is anyone following us?”

  “We’re out in the desert, and there aren’t any cars in view behind us. We’re safe, for now.”

  Beth laid her head against the seat with her face turned toward him. She propped a hand on his shoulder.

  For the next two hours, she appeared to cat nap. With all that had happened, the stress and short nights, she was probably running on fumes.

  Maybe it was Drew’s wishful thinking but, in the darkness of the pickup cab, it looked like she smiled from time to time.

  Her hand had slid off his shoulder and onto the seat.

  Drew took it and squeezed. “Hey, we’re almost to that Best Western in Tonopah.”

  After Drew checked them in, they both carried their packs into the room.

  He dropped his on the floor.

  Beth put hers on the couch and unzipped it. “Drew, we need to stop somewhere tomorrow morning. I’m meeting your mother tomorrow, and I don’t have any clean clothes. Except what we left in those two boxes in the van.”

  “We can stop somewhere and get you some clothes.”

  She went into the bathroom and came out wearing the shorts and t-shirt she’d slept in last night. But instead of going into the bedroom, she hung around the couch and fiddled with her pack.

  “I thought you’d be asleep by now. Did you sleep too much on the way here?”

  Beth shook her head. “Last night you learned all about me, all the fear and the ugliness in my past. But I need to know more about Drew West, especially since he thinks I’m about to say yes to his marriage proposal.”

  “About that … I was only joking … well, joking a little bit … and maybe hinting and hoping.”

  “Regardless, I still need to know why you are the way you are.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You always seem to be spoiling for a fight. You have a short fuse, and it seems like you have a big chip on your shoulder.”

  “Beth, I’ve never acted that way toward you.”

  “I know you haven’t. And you don’t toward Hunter either. But for people you don’t know as well, you get angry so fast that you could get yourself in trouble. You know, like you almost did with that US Attorney, Whittaker. Would you care to explain how you got that chip on your shoulder?”

  “You said it, Beth. I have a short temper.”

  “Why? I know something is driving you when you get that way. And when you’re protecting something or someone—”

  “You mean someone like you?”

  “Yes. I told you the truth about me. I need the same from Drew West or this relationship is going nowhere.”

  “So we do have a relationship?”

  “Drew … I kissed you. I’ve never done that with a guy before … ever. Now quit jockeying for position, or evading, and explain Drew West to me. Tell me why you have this over-the-top desire to protect and serve and why you do it so fiercely.”

  Drew sighed and sat on the couch. He patted a spot beside him.

  Beth sat, but she slid against him and laid her head on his shoulder. She was near, but he didn’t have to look into her eyes.

  INTJ girl was doing what she always seemed be doing, thinking and calculating. That meant she had purposely created this intimate, non-threatening environment to make it easier for him to talk to her. Beth was nurturing a relationship with him in INTJ fashion.

  Based on what he’d observed over the past two and a half days, this was a major breakthrough. If he wanted a permanent relationship with this woman, he needed to tell her his story.

  Drew searched for an opening to his story, but couldn’t find a good spot to jump in.

  Beth took his hand. “When that Border Patrol agent insinuated that I was Ricardo’s girlfriend, you said I was yours.” Beth spoke softly, and for the first time, he heard a hint of a Spanish accent. “It wasn’t so much what you said, but the way you said it. ‘No. She's mine.’ So fierce that I thought you might attack him. When Whittaker insinuated you couldn’t keep me safe, you nearly assaulted him. I thought he might arrest you. He seems the type to abuse his authority. Why, Drew?”

  Beth had given him the starting point for his story, one that met her specifications. He needed to go with it.

  “About seventeen years ago, when I was ten, my grandfather gave me my first rifle. It was a Christmas gift. A .22 lever-action rifle. It wasn’t new, but it was a nice gun. I thought I was grown up. I’d passed to manhood in the West family.”

  “Is that unusually young for getting a gun?”

  “Not where we lived. One guy I knew got a .22 when he was seven. But it’s what you do or don’t do with a gun that shows you’re grown up.”

  “What did you do with your gun at ten years of age?”

  “Mostly I went plinking in the woods. But it was what I didn’t do that was the problem.” He paused. “A couple of months after I got my gun, a burglar broke into our house during the night. I woke up first, heard some strange sounds, so I got my gun and stepped out of my room. Down the hallway, a man dressed in dark clothing stood like he was trying to decide which room to enter. I could have shot him or shot to scare him. But I didn’t.”

  “Drew, you—”

  “I’m not finished. He saw me holding the gun and he jumped through the open door into my sister’s room. I moved to her door. She awoke and screamed. Again I could have shot him. But I didn’t. He hit my sister in the head. Hit her so hard it knocked her out. Then he smashed her window and climbed out. Again, I could have shot him, but I didn’t.”

  “Was your sister okay?”

  “She spent several days in the hospital being checked out for head injuries. Eventually, she was okay. But when my grandfather heard the story of what happened, he was livid. He said he’d given me the gun because he thought I was a man. But if I couldn’t shoot someone to protect my own sister, then I just didn’t have what it takes to be a man. He said people like that never have what it takes. He called me a coward, not even worthy of the West name.”

  When he stopped talking, tear tracks glistened on Beth’s cheeks. She wiped them. “Did—did he ever take back his words?”

  “I think he tried to once, but Granddad was stubborn—the John Wayne type that thinks an apology is a sign of weakness.”

  “How could he say that to his ten-year-old grandson? Didn’t he know that was a deep wound that—”

  “He didn’t care, Beth. So, at age ten, I vowed that no one would ever be able to say that to me again. And anyone in Drew West’s charge would be kept safe, no matter the cost to me. I would fight, maim, kill, if necessary, to protect anyone I cared for or thought needed protecting. And I made sure everyone around me knew what to expect if they even acted like they might cross me.”

  “You became a bully?”

  “No. I never bullied people or threatened them
to get what I wanted. I just let them know not to mess with me. I never started fights, but I always finished them. And I got called to the principal’s office so often you could see the imprint of my rear end in the seat by his desk. Later on, my short fuse almost got me arrested a couple of times.”

  “Is that why you killed the cartel gunman, the man in the first raft? You shot first, Drew.” Her voice grew soft, barely audible.

  “No. It wasn’t my temper or anything out-of-control that caused me to shoot him. You don’t shoot someone God created and made in His own image without a pretty doggoned good reason.”

  “What reason did he give you?”

  “He raised his gun and had his finger on the trigger, but we only had bushes and bunchgrass for shelter. If he’d pulled the trigger, we would have been dead. That’s why I shot him. Then Ricardo fired at us. Almost hit us. And so I shot him.” He paused. “Now you know all about Drew West, the man who simply isn’t adequate, not up to par for a man in the West family.”

  Beth lifted her head from his shoulder. “Don’t say that. It’s not true. I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for you. You took on a man on the FBI’s most wanted list. Unarmed, took him down and took away his gun. I don’t know anyone who would have even attempted to do that, except maybe my father, and he’s dead because of the things he tried. So don’t tell me Drew West isn’t up to par.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I hope you won’t regret it.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder again. “Drew, I heard about the US Marshal protection that the DOJ offered me, and I chose you instead. And I chose based on what I saw you do.” Her voice came hardly above a whisper. “That ought to tell you something.” She sighed and yawned.

  “That’s enough about me. You were tired when we drove in. Shouldn’t we get some sleep?”

  “Uh huh. We … should.” Her long eyelashes tickled his cheek as they fluttered.

  “We need to be alert tomorrow. We can’t afford to let anyone follow us home, or we won’t be safe in Oregon.”

  She didn’t reply.

  “Beth, aren’t you ready to—”

  She snorted, wiggled her mouth and resumed her steady, deep breathing. She had zonked and he was still holding her.

  This is exactly what I said I wouldn’t do.

  But she was tired and sleeping peacefully. He couldn’t disturb her.

  Drew’s mind and body hinted at exhaustion too. Telling his story drained him further. He slid down a bit, slumping on the couch.

  Beth’s head came with him. It now lay on his chest.

  Waking up in the morning could prove interesting. But he was too tired to move.

  Drew curled an arm around Beth’s shoulders and joined her.

  Chapter 12

  The day had begun at 6:30 a.m. with a blushing Beth Sanchez in his arms on the couch.

  She didn’t comment on them falling asleep together. Beth simply got up, got dressed, and they left.

  During their six-hundred-mile drive home to Way West Ranch, Beth hadn’t talked a tenth as much as in the previous two days, even when they stopped for her to buy a few clothes.

  But Drew was not going to complain. She had been glued to his side the entire day. In the truck, when the traffic was light and the road straight—which proved to be about five hundred of the six hundred miles he drove—her hand remained in his.

  Drew didn’t talk much either. No more marriage proposals, nor references to his premature proposal, and no more predictions of their engagement.

  When a beautiful young woman like Beth wants to be close to you, who would be stupid enough to open their mouth and mess everything up?

  The closer they got to the ranch, the closer Beth got to him.

  As he drove westward down Highway 126 from Redmond toward the ranch, she had one hand on the console to prop herself up and she leaned toward him.

  “This is beautiful, Drew. It is a bit like the high desert around my old home in Mexico. But we did not have the volcanic peaks nearby.”

  “The peak to the north, in the distance, is Mount Jefferson. The three peaks west of us are the Three Sisters. Near the base of those three peaks is the small town of Sisters. It’s full of gift shops, restaurants, and some of the best coffee in the state.”

  Beth’s hand clamped onto his arm. “Your mother has no idea I am coming.”

  Was that why she’d been so quiet? “That’s right. We couldn’t afford to let anyone know.”

  “What will she think? I have just traveled half-way across the United States with her son, unchaperoned. What will she think of me?”

  “Beth, my mother is going to treat you like her daughter.”

  “You held me all night last night.”

  “Yeah. We were exhausted and it was innocent. But you might not want to mention that to my mom.”

  Beth dipped her head but didn’t reply.

  “She will love you, Beth. When I explain our circumstances, she’ll understand. She knows me and knows that I wouldn’t treat any woman dishonorably, though you were at times a big temptation.” He grinned.

  “That’s not funny, Mr. West.”

  “No it isn’t. It was pretty doggoned hard to resist Señorita Sanchez’s charms. Then there was that kiss after the pillow fight.”

  “You cannot tell her about that. About any of it. It was—was out of character for me.” Beth’s breathing had turned to near panting.

  “Relax and just be yourself. You can trust my mom as much as you trust me. She will love you. She won’t find fault—”

  “But you did. You said I was a—”

  “And I was joking, wasn’t I?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that I didn’t think what this moment would be like. It’s not just you and me now. There’s another person.”

  “That’s not all. My nephew and niece will be here, spending the summer on the ranch.”

  “How old are they?”

  “Melanie—we call her Mel—is eight, maybe nine now. And Cooper—we call him Coop—is ten. Almost eleven.”

  Drew turned off the highway onto the small paved road that ran by the east entrance to the ranch. “These scattered trees are Juniper trees.”

  “They don’t look like Mexican Juniper trees.”

  “They’re not. I think Mexico has weeping Junipers, bushier. The trees here are taller. We have a river just to the west of the ranch. It’s called the Deschutes River. Some of the best steelhead fishing in the world. When we get a chance, I’ll take you to see Steelhead Falls.”

  “But this isn’t a vacation. We’re running for our lives. We’re hiding.”

  “Yes. But we’re hiding in beautiful country. I think it is fitting that a beautiful señorita should see the beautiful scenery as she adds her own beauty to it. Here’s the turn-off to the Way West Ranch.” He slowed and turned onto the wide gravel road built to accommodate large horse trailers and trucks.

  “Is it called Way West because it is so far west?”

  “Not really. It’s named after a Hollywood movie that was filmed here called The Way West. It tells the story of an early wagon train to Oregon. My granddad started the ranch in 1967, the same year the movie released.”

  “Is that the ranch house?” Beth pointed to the sprawling, one-level house straight ahead.

  “That’s it. It has over 4,000 square feet of living area. Five bedrooms. Three bathrooms, including the guest bathroom, which will probably be yours, depending on where Mom decided to put Mel and Coop.”

  Drew parked along the sweeping circle drive that provided access to the house and the barns. “The big barn is where our riding horses and a few of the mares are kept. The mares with foals are in the smaller buildings beyond the barn. It’s almost six o’clock and the barn door is open. So Mom is probably feeding horses.” He opened the driver’s door. “Come on. Let’s go tell her we’re here.”

  Beth opened her door. “I am having second thoughts about this.”

  “That�
��s okay for right now. But let’s take care of that before you have any third thoughts.”

  As they walked to the barn, Beth seemed glued to his side. It was not like her to be shy.

  Maybe there was more to it than shyness. Beth hadn’t had a family for about eight years. She was about to acquire one again. And the way she lost her family probably had a lot to do with her discomfort.

  Drew needed to manage her introduction to ease this transition in her life.

  When they walked into the barn, Beth separated from him. She stopped in the doorway, looking like she might turn and run.

  The rear-end of a trim and fit middle-aged horse rancher stuck out of one stall beneath the head of a thoroughbred quarter horse.

  “Mom, it’s Drew.”

  She turned, dropped a bucket of feed and ran toward him. “Drew, what in the world are you doing here? I thought you’d be off doing research in Texas until August.”

  She wrapped Drew up in a bear hug.

  “Mom, I brought someone with me.”

  “You know that Hunter’s always welcome here, Drew. You don’t have to—”

  “It’s not Hunter.”

  Beth walked toward them.

  His mom took a step back and her eyes widened. Slowly a smile spread across her face. “It’s about time. When’s the wedding?”

  He chose not to reply. Instead, he turned to Beth and mouthed, “Told you so.”

  “Mom, this is Elizabeth Sanchez. She goes by Beth.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. West.” Beth took a couple of steps then reached out her hand.

  “Beth. I’m Mattie.” His mom ignored the hand and stepped in to give Beth the same hug she’d given Drew. “Let me finish feeding this pregnant mare, then you can tell me all about it.”

  The high-pitched voice of children came through the barn door.

  Melanie and Cooper ran into the barn and stopped. Then they sprinted toward Drew and both leaped into his arms.

  He caught one with his right hand, the other with his left. “You guys are getting too big for this.” Drew set them down and turned them around toward Beth. “I’ve got someone you need to meet. Mel, Coop, this is Beth. She’ll be staying with us.”