Her Guardian Rancher

by Brenda Minton

  He stopped her by settling a kiss on her brow. “Stop. You don’t have to worry.”

  Jamie reached for her mom. Emma took her and stepped back from him, moving out of his arms and out of his reach.

  “I’m patient, Emma.”

  She rested a hand on his shoulder. “I know. Good night, Daron.”

  The door closed behind her. He thought he heard her lean against it and sigh. He smiled and leaned close. “Go to bed.”

  “I will,” she answered. And then he heard footsteps leading her away from the door.

  Daron turned to go downstairs and saw his mom waiting for him. She wasn’t smiling. That didn’t bode well.

  “Mom,” he said, meeting her at the top of the stairs, and they walked down together. “I was going to talk to Dad.”

  “He’s in his office. She seems like a nice girl.”

  “Yes, she is. She’s been through a lot.”

  His mom gave him a careful look. “So have you. And as your mother, I don’t want you to go through any more.”

  He followed her into the den, where his dad was sitting, an open computer on his lap. He glanced up at them and went back to work. James McKay loved his job. He loved his family, too. But he knew how to focus better than anyone Daron had ever met.

  “Dad.” Daron took a seat and watched as his dad closed out a file and shut down the computer.

  Daron guessed this was going to be another “you’re wasting a good education” lecture. From his mom it was going to be a “don’t get involved” lecture.

  He might as well start things off on the right foot. “You all know that I’m thirty, right?”

  His dad pulled off his reading glasses and set them on the table next to his chair. And just like that, Daron felt sixteen again. But he wasn’t. He cleared his throat and looked from one parent to the other, because at thirty, he knew himself a little better than he had a dozen years ago.

  “I know you’re a man with a law degree and I have a practice that I’d like to keep in the family. It was my father’s law firm, Daron.” His dad sounded tired. Daron relaxed a bit because maybe this was a conversation they needed to have.

  He wasn’t a lawyer. He had the degree. He’d passed the bar. But he wasn’t going to step foot in a courtroom. Ever. “I do know that. And I appreciate that it means a lot to you to see it stay in the family. I’m happy that I have a sister who is interested in the law. I have a business of my own. Someday I might have a son,” he said. “And when I do, I’m sure I’ll want him to follow in my footsteps. But I would also accept that he might want to find his own path.”

  Nora McKay smiled. “What you’re telling your father is no, thank you?”

  “I’m telling him that I’m not a lawyer. That doesn’t mean I can’t help you out from time to time. I can help manage the business. I can provide security, should anyone need it. But I’m not a lawyer.”

  “Are you a rancher now?” his dad asked. No sarcasm, which was a good thing.

  “I think I might be. And that’s the last question I want to answer. For now.”

  His mom watched him closely. She’d made it a habit, watching him. As if she thought he might lose it one day, no warning, just go crazy.

  “I’m fine,” he said to her without her having to ask. “I’m happy where I’m at. I have good friends in Braswell. It might not be what you wanted for me, but it’s where I am and I’m good.”

  “And Emma?” his mom asked simply.

  “That subject is off-limits.”

  “We only want the best for you,” his mom said as she stood to leave the room.

  “I know you do, Mom.” He stood, also. “And she’s the best thing for me.”

  She gave a curt nod and left them alone. His dad motioned for him to push the table between them.

  “Chess?” his dad said.

  “I’ll beat you.”

  His dad smiled. “Yes, you usually do. So how’s the business?”

  “Good. New clients, repeat clients, exactly what you’d expect it to be. It’s keeping the three of us busy and we have a good team that we call when we need extra people on a job.”

  “I guess you’re going to make a career of it, then?”

  “I guess I am.”

  His dad moved his first piece. “Still sleeping in Wilder’s camper?”

  Daron moved and then he sat back in his chair. “I’m starting to move back to the ranch.”

  “Really? What changed?”

  What had changed? It was simple. A little faith. And a woman who made him fight through the nightmares.

  “A lot,” he answered. And left it at that. His dad was a brilliant lawyer. He could read people. He knew if someone was guilty and he knew if someone was lying to him.

  So any question he asked, he probably already knew the answer. The real question was, did Daron know?

  Everything good that had happened to him in the last few years was connected to a woman and a child, their faith, their smiles.

  It was unsettling that they meant so much to him, had probably meant that much for some time, and he was just now figuring it out.

  Chapter Twelve

  It felt good to get home. Even though home meant sharing space with the ever-serious Lucy. Emma sat at the table across from Granddad. Lucy walked into the kitchen but paused. Emma motioned for her to join them.

  “You’re not bothering us,” Emma said. “We’re just talking about the visit to the hospital.”

  “How’d it go?” Lucy asked as she sat down with them.

  “They’ve put her on vitamins and another dose of antibiotics. They’re going to let us get through Christmas and then they want to do the procedure. They did several tests and realized they can do a catheterization rather than open-heart surgery. They’ll go up through her groin and close the hole with a special mesh device.”

  “And that will work? I don’t know how they can get anything through the veins of a girl that little.” Granddad wore his super-skeptical look.

  “They can do it.” She placed a hand over his. “We’re going to worry, but we’re also going to have faith. We’ve gotten through everything together.”

  Lucy stood abruptly and excused herself.

  Granddad waited until he heard the door close. “That young woman has a lot on her mind.”

  “Yes, she does. I’ll go check on her. If Jamie wakes up, you can yell for me.”

  “I think if that little girl wakes up, she and her old granddad will be just fine. You go tend to Lucy.”

  Emma walked out the front door, pulling on a jacket as she went. She didn’t have to go far, though. Lucy was sitting on the edge of the front porch, the dog, Rascal, next to her. Emma sat down next to her. The dog moved and sprawled on Lucy’s lap so that his front paws could rest on Emma’s legs.

  “This dog is an attention hog,” Lucy said in her normal brusque manner.

  Emma would have been put off by the tone if she hadn’t gotten to know the woman. Lucy hid kindness beneath her tough exterior. “Yeah, he is. You okay?”

  “Hmm, oh yeah, of course.” She ran a hand down the black-and-white coat of the border collie. “I’m good.”

  “Right. Because you didn’t act at all upset in there.”

  “No, not at all.” Lucy shot her a look. “You get under a person’s skin, Emma. You have to remember. I’m not here to talk feelings with you. I’m here to keep you safe.”

  “Of course. But you can’t spend this much time with someone and not think of them as a friend.”

  Lucy laughed. “Oh yes, you can. I’ve spent a lot of time with a lot of different people, and I can’t say that I ever wanted to be friends with them.”

  “Okay, I was wrong.”

  Lucy sighed. “No, you might be ri
ght. But I’m not someone who shares my life. Not with anyone.”

  “I see. But if you ever want to talk...”

  Lucy moved the dog over and got up. “If I was going to talk to anyone, I would talk to you. But don’t let that go to your head.”

  “Never.”

  “And there’s my backup for this evening. I have to drive up to Stephenville to check on my mom.” Lucy indicated the Ford truck pulling into the drive. Daron’s truck.

  “I think we’d be fine on our own for an evening,” Emma protested as she watched him getting out of his truck. He stretched, rubbed his lower back, then climbed up in the bed of the truck and grabbed a couple of boxes.

  “I don’t think he’s taking no for an answer,” Lucy said as she walked back into the house.

  Emma picked her way across the yard, avoiding puddles left from that afternoon’s rain. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

  He hopped down from the bed of the truck and grabbed the boxes he’d set on the tailgate. “Lucy needs some time off. I brought a few things.”

  “It looks that way. What did you bring?” She picked up a third box that he’d left on the tailgate. “What’s this?”

  “That’s the nativity. These are decorations and lights. I thought we’d do something to get in the spirit of Christmas.”

  “What, you think I have no Christmas spirit?” she asked as she led the way to the house. “I happen to have plenty of Christmas spirit. And decorations. I just haven’t put them up yet.”

  “Thus my spare tree and decorations. I can’t sit in a house with no lights and no tree. I kind of guessed your stuff is in an attic and I don’t want to climb up a ladder. So here I am, with everything needed to make this house look like an elf threw up on it.”

  “Since you put it that way,” she joked, opened the door and motioned him inside. “Try to be quiet. Jamie is sleeping.”

  She was wrong about that. Jamie was definitely up. The minute she saw Daron, she ran across the room and attached herself to him. He put the boxes down and picked up the little girl.

  “We’re going to decorate a tree this evening. And I brought fried chicken from Duke’s, so no one has to cook.”

  He was thoughtful. Emma knew that, but each time he did something like this, it became more obvious. He was touching their lives in sweet little ways.

  Granddad grabbed up the bag from the grocery store and headed off to the kitchen with it. Jamie started looking through an open box that contained store-bought decorations and small plaster figurines to paint. She picked up a tiny star and followed Art from the room.

  “This was really nice of you,” Emma said as he pulled out a small tree that just had to be shaped and fitted together.

  “Nice?” He arched a brow. “I thought it was sweet. The kind of thing that makes a woman swoon.”

  “Is that what you’re going for, swooning?”

  “Maybe a little.” He said it with a tone that might have been hopeful or teasing.

  “Well, I’m not one to swoon. The last time I did, there was no one to catch me.”

  “I’ll catch you,” he whispered. He leaned in close, grazing her cheek with a feathery kiss.

  “No.” Suddenly she was afraid. Because what if he didn’t catch her? What if he thought she was the woman he wanted in his life but then realized she didn’t fit?

  “Stop thinking,” he warned. “I can see the wheels turning in your head, and I think you’re wrong.”

  “What if I’m right? What if this is temporary? What if one day we’re at a family dinner or a social gathering, and you look across the room and you realize that you made a mistake?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t know that.”

  “No, maybe I don’t. But I want to try this, Emma. I want you to try.”

  Jamie returned from showing Art her tiny treasure. Emma knelt next to her daughter and admired the star.

  “Do you want to paint it? With pretty yellow paint and sparkles?” Emma asked.

  Jamie nodded and dug around in the box for the yellow paint. “I can paint it.”

  “Yes, you can. And we’ll write your name on the back so you’ll always know that you painted this yourself.”

  Jamie smiled up at her, big eyes and soft curls. “I like to paint it. Daron paints it, too.”

  “Do you want me to help you paint?” Daron asked, finding another paintbrush in the box.

  They were gathering supplies for painting when a shot vibrated the air and glass shattered. Daron grabbed Emma and Jamie and pushed them to the ground, covering them with his body as another shot rang out. From the kitchen, Art said a few choice words.

  “Granddad, are you okay?” Emma called out. She pushed herself out from beneath Daron, but he held tight.

  “Don’t move.” His arms keeping them close.

  “Daron, you have to let us up. We have to check on Granddad.” She turned in his arms, brushing her hand across his face. “We’re safe.”

  “I know. Just give me a minute.”

  “This isn’t a nightmare, Daron,” she said.

  “I know. Believe me, I know.” He was still holding her, holding Jamie. He moved, taking them with him, half dragging them to the kitchen.

  Art was sitting on the floor, holding a towel to his thigh.

  “Granddad, you’re hurt. They shot you.”

  Art shook his head. “I think it’s just glass from the kitchen window. They ruined my pants.”

  She laughed until she stopped wanting to cry. Pete had done this. She wouldn’t have believed he would do something like this to her, to his niece.

  She heard Daron on his phone, calling 911. He kept them in a corner, protected. Safe.

  * * *

  Daron stood to the side, watching the road, the field, as paramedics loaded a very upset Art into the ambulance. Boone stood nearby, also watching. Just in case whoever had done this came back. Daron didn’t think they would. This was a warning. He didn’t know what the warning meant, but he knew that he wasn’t walking away from Emma and Jamie.

  Emma stepped close to his side. He kept his attention on the surrounding area. Without speaking she pushed a piece of gauze to his cheek. He flinched at her touch and she lightened the pressure.

  “You’re bleeding,” she finally said.

  “Just from glass. I’m fine.”

  “We’re all okay.” She pushed the gauze into her pocket and unwrapped a bandage. “Stop thinking this is your fault.”

  He let her tend his wound, which was nothing more than a scratch, really. “Is Jamie sleeping?”

  “Yes. She’s with Kayla. Boone brought her, in case we needed her.”

  “That was good of him.” Daron moved his eyes away from the horizon, just briefly, to look at the woman standing next to him.

  She was small, but strong. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore fuzzy slippers with her jeans and flannel shirt. He wanted to pull her close, inhale the scent of her hair and just hold her. Man, he really wanted to hold her.

  But wasn’t that what had gotten them in this position? He’d lost focus. He’d been living some strange dream, decorating Christmas trees and baking cookies. Now there were shattered windows and glass everywhere. The Wilder brothers were boarding up the windows. Getting new windows put in would have to wait until tomorrow.

  “Pack a bag for each of you. Art will need a few things, too. I think they might keep him overnight, but he’ll need clothes when he leaves the hospital tomorrow.” He gave the order as she stood there, brows drawn together, probably trying to figure him out.

  “Why would we need a bag?”

  He glanced down again, this time getting lost for a moment in her dark eyes. The anger flashing in tho
se dark eyes helped him get back on track.

  “Because you’re staying at the Wilders’ for a while.”

  “We can’t stay at the Wilders’. They don’t know us. And I’m sure they don’t have room for three more. That’s ridiculous.”

  “It isn’t ridiculous. Tonight someone shot at your house. If we’d been standing two feet to the right of where we were, if Art had been standing in front of the sink...” His voice shook as he drew the picture for her. “Someone could have been killed tonight.”

  The color drained from her face and she wobbled a little. He put a hand on her elbow to steady her.

  “But Pete wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t try to hurt us. He wants money, but he isn’t mean.”

  “Meth changes people. And it isn’t just Pete. It’s whoever Pete is in debt to. My guess is Pete owed money, so they bargained with him. If he would deal for them, they’d forgive his debt. Or give him a discount. And then he probably spent the money he made rather than turning it over to the boss.”

  “How did he get messed up with this business?”

  Daron shrugged. “Good people get involved in bad stuff, Emma. That’s how life is.”

  “Yes, I guess. I just wish there was a way to help him.”

  “He could have gotten you killed. There are people willing to hurt you to teach him a lesson.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice soft and tremulous.

  He didn’t want her afraid. He wanted her fighting mad, willing to stand her ground. But he wanted her safe, too. “It isn’t forever. We’ll figure out who Pete is connected to and we’ll get rid of them.”

  “I wish we could get Pete some help.”

  He still had hold of her arm. “Yeah, me, too. But first things first. Let’s pack those bags. And tell Art you’ll see him at the hospital.”

  She peeked into the back of the ambulance, where Art was arguing that it was only a flesh wound and he didn’t need to go to the hospital.

  “Art, you have to go.” Emma patted his foot and he howled. “Just a flesh wound?”

  Art grimaced, eyes narrowed. “I didn’t say it doesn’t hurt. I just said I don’t need to go to the hospital. And I don’t want you there, either. Stay home with Jamie.”