“I got a job, man,” Andy retorted. “You resent me for that? How have you been?”
“Hard to get work around here,” Dwight said.
“It would be when you’re soused.”
Dwight didn’t answer that and Andy didn’t expect him to. There was plenty of ranch work to be had around here if you were able-bodied and willing to work hard. Being sober would also be an asset, but from what Andy could tell, Dwight already had a bad reputation, and that was both pathetic and sad. He didn’t have to turn out like this.
“Where are you living these days?” Andy asked after a moment.
“With my mom. She needs me to help out around the place...”
Andy seriously doubted he was living with his mom because the old lady needed him so badly. Likely, Mrs. Peterson would be good and glad to have her son out from under her roof, but Dwight drank away what little money he got his hands on. He had a problem—a big one. Dwight had turned out a little bit too much like his old man.
“I saw Dakota,” Andy said.
Dwight nodded slowly then raised two fingers at the bartender. Andy shook his head in the negative when the bartender looked to Andy for his order. He wasn’t here to drink. A filled glass slid down the counter toward them and Dwight picked it up and took a sip. Andy let his words hang in the air a little longer, but Dwight didn’t open his mouth.
“You have nothing to say?” Andy asked icily.
“How’s she doing?” Dwight asked at last.
How was she? She was just as amazing as she’d always been, except there was a crack in her now—a place where Dwight had broken her faith in men and she’d never quite healed.
“She told me about how you used to smack her around.”
Dwight’s hand trembled and he put the drink down. “That was a long time ago.”
Anger coursed through Andy’s veins until his entire body pulsed with it. It might have been a long time ago in Dwight’s estimation, but he’d seen the way Dakota reacted with Elliot on the cattle drive, and it wasn’t far enough in her past yet.
“You remember when you started dating her?” Andy asked, keeping his voice low.
Dwight shrugged. “What about it?”
“I backed off,” Andy snapped. “You said you were in love with her, that you’d marry her—”
“She broke it off!” Dwight snapped. “I would have married her!”
This wasn’t about broken engagements, this was about broken promises. Andy stared hard at the counter, attempting to keep that simmering anger under control. “You said you’d take care of her, man. Then you started hitting her.”
“That was only—”
“When you drank.” Andy smiled icily. “I know.”
“It only happened a couple of times.”
“Three times, she said. That’s three times too many.”
“So what are you here for?” Dwight asked, looking over at Andy warily. He only met Andy’s eye for a second before he dropped his gaze like a kicked dog. He looked like he was expecting a punch, but Andy wasn’t even sure Dwight would defend himself if he did. Back in the truck, Andy had fantasized about a few different scenarios that ended in him punching Dwight square in the face, but now that he was staring at him, Andy didn’t have it in him anymore.
Dwight’s face had scars from fights, and Andy had a feeling that Dwight knew exactly what it felt like to be beaten up. Andy didn’t need to educate him in that. But under those scars, under the smell of booze that seemed to emanate from every pore of the man’s body, was the shadow of the old Dwight Peterson that Andy used to know—the buddy through thick and thin.
“I’ve gotta tell you, Dwight, I wanted to give you a taste of what you did to her,” Andy said quietly.
Dwight was silent. He shifted on the stool, looking ready to raise an arm in self-defense, but there wasn’t any pride left. Just shame and booze.
“I’ve got a better idea.” Andy pulled out a few bills and put them on the counter to cover Dwight’s bill. “Come on.”
“What?” Dwight snapped. “Where?”
“You can sit here and drink the night away,” Andy said, hooking him under the arm. “Or you can come out with me.”
“I thought you hated me,” Dwight said.
“I still might,” Andy retorted. “But you’re safer with me than you are in here. Let’s go.”
Dwight took a moment to consider and then got shakily to his feet. “What about giving me a job at your swanky car dealership in Billings?”
“Nope.” Andy led the way through the bar to the front door. “I don’t hire drunks.”
“So where’re we going?” Dwight asked, rubbing a hand across his nose.
They stepped outside into the autumn cold and Dwight shivered.
“For a fresh start, buddy,” Andy said gruffly. “There’s an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting happening in the basement of the Good Shepherd church in—” he looked at his watch “—fifteen minutes.” He lifted up his phone as proof, the website open on the screen.
“I don’t need a support group,” Dwight sneered, and he took a step back toward the bar.
“Dwight, you hit her!” Andy’s voice rang out clear and sharp, and Dwight deflated once more. Andy hooked a thumb toward his truck. “I’ll drive you down. I’ll sit in the meeting with you.”
Dwight stood in the flickering light of the neon sign, the T buzzing softly every time it flashed. He looked sad, worn out, empty.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked after a moment.
“Because we used to be friends,” Andy said.
“Not friends now?” Dwight asked hopefully.
Was Dwight his friend? No, Andy couldn’t lie and say that he was. He couldn’t be the buddy of the man who’d terrorized a woman like that, especially Dakota. But Dwight wasn’t a threat to Dakota anymore. He was a broken man, and Dakota was well free of him. Dwight looked at him hopefully. He was half drunk, which might account for this sudden burst of neediness, and Andy sighed.
“You’ve got to pull yourself together, man,” Andy said at last. “You need to go to these meetings every week. You need a sponsor. You’ve got to work the steps. You can be better than this.”
Andy opened the passenger-side door and gestured for Dwight to get in. No, Dwight wasn’t his friend anymore, but for the memory of a friendship that used to mean a lot to both of them, Andy was willing to do this. Deep down under the addiction there was a guy who used to be his buddy.
“But let me be clear,” Andy said as Dwight got in. “You need to stay away from Dakota. For good.”
Dwight didn’t answer and Andy banged the door shut before heading around to the driver’s side. If Andy ever heard that Dwight had raised his hand to Dakota again, his good will would be spent and he’d come back down here and follow his previous instinct to beat the ever-loving tar out of him.
Chapter Twelve
Dakota expected to drop into bed that night, exhausted from the drive, but instead she found herself lying awake. Granted, she’d gone to bed early, but it hadn’t been just any cattle drive this year and coming home to her own bed didn’t provide the closure it usually did. Sure, the cattle were back. Her job was done. But she’d fallen in love with the wrong man despite her best efforts not to.
Her bedroom was the same room she’d slept in since she was a child. It had changed over the years and the toys and childish knickknacks were down in the basement now. It was a sparse bedroom—white walls, a bed with several quilts on top. She had a standing wardrobe in one corner, a writing desk in the other, and a hand-made rag rug that she and Grandma Mason had sewn together years ago. A bookcase held some framed black-and-white photos of grandparents and great-grandparents, a few awards and three shelves packed tight with her favorite books.
How long
should she stay in her parents’ house? She’d planned on moving out a few years earlier, but then the ranch had started to dry up and the workload had increased drastically. So she’d stuck around. Besides, her parents couldn’t afford to hire another worker to replace her right now, and she had as much at stake in this land as they did. So she stayed on, keeping watch over her hopeful inheritance. This land wasn’t just the family ranch, it was her future, and she was willing to sacrifice certain things to see her dreams of running it become a reality.
Now she lay in bed, staring at the shadows the moonlight and tree branches made on her ceiling. Tears welled in her eyes. She’d hoped it would all feel differently once she was home again, that her feelings for Andy would fade and she’d see clearly that it was an impossibility. And while she did recognize that a relationship would never work, her feelings hadn’t faded. If anything, she felt her loss all the more sharply. It stabbed deeper than she’d thought possible, deeper than even calling off her wedding had wounded her. How had this happened in such a short period of time?
“I fell in love with Andy Granger...” Whispering the words aloud wasn’t as jarring as she’d hoped it’d be. Probably because it was true. She’d seen a side to Andy on that cattle drive that she’d never seen before, and when she’d looked into his eyes and felt those strong arms wrap around her, she’d known what she was giving up. In her mind’s eye she could see what a life with Andy would be like—waking up in those arms each morning, starting a family, getting older... But the one thing she couldn’t picture was doing all of that in Billings. And that’s why it was so impossible. She couldn’t just walk away from this land, and yet she couldn’t tear herself completely free of Andy, either.
Downstairs the phone rang twice and then was picked up. She could hear the muffled sound of her father’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and sat up in bed. This was no use.
She looked at her cell phone, tempted to dial Andy’s number, but she didn’t want to wake him up to say...what exactly? That she missed him? That her heart physically ached right now because of what she was walking away from? They’d already said it all...the only problem was that home wasn’t dulling the pain for her like it was supposed to do. Coming home hadn’t changed a thing.
Dakota grabbed her bathrobe and shoved her feet into her slippers. She’d go downstairs and get a bowl of ice cream or something. She ambled out of her room and started down the stairs. Her father was coming up, still dressed in jeans and a red, flannel shirt, rolled up to his elbows like he’d always worn his shirts. She stopped short when she saw his face. He was ashen.
“Dad?” Dakota put a hand out. “What happened?”
He blinked twice before he said anything and when he spoke, his voice was raspy. “I just got a call from your brother’s unit commander—” He swallowed hard. “Brody’s been injured...badly, they say. A land mine went off and—” Her father’s voice shook. “He’s in surgery right now. They don’t know how long he’ll be there, but he’ll be sent home once he’s stable enough for transport.”
His words took a moment to sink in and Dakota stared at her father in shock. The worst had happened. They’d told each other that the worst couldn’t happen, wouldn’t happen, because of the very fact it was the worst-case scenario. They were somehow protected from it all because they’d laughed at it, refused to give it root. But Brody had been wounded—their fears had come true—and she could only pray he’d survive.
A land mine... Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Is he going to die, Dad?”
“They don’t think so,” her father said, sucking in a wavering breath. “But his combat days are likely over. They say his leg is in bad shape. They’ll call again once he’s out of surgery and give us an update.”
She nodded numbly. “Okay, so that’s good news, then. It could have been worse.”
Her father raked a hand through his sparse hair. This was what they had been trying to protect Brody from by keeping their secret, and it had befallen him anyway. Was her father thinking the same thing?
“When he left, I was so angry,” her father said. “They say not to go to bed angry with your wife, but I think it’s worse to let your child leave when you’re mad like that...”
“He knows you love him, Dad,” Dakota said. “You two just never really saw eye to eye—”
“I just want him home safe.” Her father’s chin trembled. “To me, he’s still my boy who wanted shoulder rides. And I want him back home in one piece...or as close to it as the surgeons can manage.”
Dakota sank onto the stairs and her father sat next to her. They were both quiet for a few moments then her father patted her knee with his gnarled hand.
“Dakota, do I put too much pressure on you?” he asked quietly.
“No.”
What was too much pressure? He let her be a part of running the family land, and that came with pressure that she was gladly willing to shoulder. She was a grown woman now and didn’t need to be sheltered from the hard things in life.
“Well, I’m going to tell you what I should have told your brother before he left,” her father said gruffly. “I want you to be happy. That’s it. You make your choices and live your life, and if you end up happy, I’ll have done my job well.”
Dakota leaned over and put her head on her father’s shoulder. “But I am happy, Dad.”
The words were hollow because she was furthest thing from happy right now. But that wasn’t her father’s fault. He didn’t even suspect what had happened between her and Andy.
“Are you? Living here with us?” Her father smiled sadly. “Follow your heart, Dakota. I won’t give you grief.”
Perhaps she didn’t look as happy as she claimed to be. She couldn’t say that life had been easy with Dwight’s abuse, a canceled wedding and the land drying up before their eyes. But happiness didn’t necessarily come with an easy life, and she wasn’t one to back down from the challenges. Right now, the ache inside her wasn’t because of Dwight or the land, it was because of Andy. And she’d have to deal with this particular heartbreak alone.
He’d said he loved her...he’d asked her to marry him and move to Billings...
And Brody was wounded and would be on his way home as soon as they could safely transport him. Why did everything have to knot together into one unmanageable tangle?
Her father pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to go and wake up your mother.”
He walked heavily up the stairs and paused at the master bedroom door. He hung his head for a moment, as if steeling himself, then turned the knob. She heard her mother’s groggy voice. “What time is it?”
Follow her heart... Did her father have any idea of where her heart led? Because right now, with every beat, it was yearning for the man who had decimated their property.
She bowed her head, meaning to say a prayer for her brother’s recovery, but instead of a whispered prayer, she only met with tears. Her heart was breaking—for the man she’d fallen in love with against her better judgment, for her brother, who was wounded in the line of duty, still so far from home, and for her father, who had loved so hard but forgotten to put it into words.
Happiness might not be guaranteed in an easy life, but an easy life certainly had fewer heartbreaks. Unfortunately, she hadn’t gotten a choice in the cards she’d been dealt.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING they awoke to snow. It was like a mantle had been tossed over Hope while they’d slept, and when Andy crawled out of bed, he’d stared out at drifted peaks. They’d gotten the cattle home just in time.
Andy had asked the drovers to come back this morning to pick up their checks, and there was still another twenty minutes before the drovers were due. The truck bumped and slid over the back drive that led from the fields—he’d just brought some fresh hay for the fee
der, the pasture being covered now—and his gaze slid over the peaceful scene. The morning sun was bright and golden, glistening off the fresh snowfall. It covered fields, topped fence posts, and drifted up the sides of buildings—winter’s official arrival. The cows congregated in small groups, their breaths coming from their blunt noses in puffs of cloud.
He’d miss this. If he had to be brutally honest, he’d miss Dakota more. He could have been happy enough going back to his life in Billings if it hadn’t been for her. She’d awoken him to feelings he wasn’t ready for, both for her and for this land he’d thought he’d said goodbye to. But his time with Dakota made him realize exactly what he wanted—everything that was out of reach.
She would come this morning to collect her check and he’d see her again, and his heart sped up at the prospect. He knew where they stood. He knew he couldn’t give her the life she deserved, and she knew it all too well. He hoped that this goodbye might make the difference. Maybe if he said goodbye to her in the light of day he’d be able to make his peace with it.
Andy pulled to a stop beside the barn and turned off the engine. His brother had called late last night to say Mackenzie had had the babies and they were doing well. The new arrivals were boys—both over five pounds—and they’d named them Jackson and Jayden. Andy had felt a strange tug of love already for the nephews he was yet to meet—there would be more Granger boys, another set of brothers. He sincerely hoped these two would have a better chance at maintaining a relationship than he and Chet had. The pressures of inheritance and future planning could be disastrous, but these kids would have an uncle who understood all that, and maybe he’d be able to give them some advice about how not to mess things up too badly.
Chet would be coming back to the ranch on his own for a few days before Mackenzie would join him with the babies. That meant Andy’s time here would be up and he’d have to bow out and leave the ranch in his brother’s capable hands. At the very least, he wanted his brother to come back to everything running as it should. Andy could offer that much.
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