Later, Brigid decided to go to the station before heading back out to the ranch, since she could walk the several blocks to get there instead of driving. The less time she spent in her Honda, the better. After her effort to de-stink the car, she’d left the windows down in the hope that someone would steal it. Maybe someone out there was dumb enough to rip off a car that smelled like dog barf. Probably not, but a girl could dream.
She got to the station and discovered to her dismay that Layla’s kennel needed cleaning once again. She took the dog for a long walk, cleaned the kennel, and fed the dog her dinner. Brigid wrote a reminder to herself in her little notebook to make flyers about the schnauzer. Maybe she had been an outdoor dog.
Some people had dogs like Scout that never left the yard. Layla wasn’t like that and it was hard to imagine Layla staying put, much less being focused on anything like Scout was. That dog was so fixated on tending to his cats, he’d never leave the ranch. Even though Brigid had never actually seen the cats, it was encouraging to know that he’d apparently adjusted to the lack of cattle to herd. Dogs could be so adaptable.
Brigid smiled at the thought of Scout as she made herself a quickie sandwich and fed Gypsy an early dinner. Bracing herself against the smell, she got back in the Honda for the journey northward. Horses were stinky. Maybe Clay had recommendations for different cleaning chemicals she could try on the interior of her car. Although having seen his truck, maybe not.
At the ranch, she parked the car in front of the barn and went to let out Nugget and Judge. The both stood up, barking and wagging expectantly at her. “Hello boys. Are you ready to go out?” After refreshing their water dishes, she decided to take Nugget out first to see if she could determine if his mood had improved after an afternoon of rest. “Sorry Judgie. I need to see how he’s doing first.”
Nugget pressed his head into her thigh and she stroked his smooth fur. “Aww, you must be feeling better. You’re doing the snuggle thing again.” After Brigid attached his leash, they went out the door. She was a little apprehensive about taking him out, but she hadn’t seen the Arabian anywhere, so she hoped everything would be okay.
They had a mercifully uneventful walk down the driveway and back. Nugget seemed to be back to his typical quiet self, happily trotting along and delicately poking and sniffing at the grass with his long snout. When he was done, she returned him to his kennel and repeated the process with Judge. After feeding them dinner, she went up to the house to use the computer. Clay wasn’t outside and she was afraid to barge into the house again. She knocked as loudly as possible on the door, but got nothing except silence in response.
She turned and leaned on the porch railing, looking out across the pastures, unsure what to do. The horses were contentedly grazing in the late afternoon twilight as usual. It was quiet and peaceful, until all four horses suddenly raised their heads simultaneously.
Across the road in the distance, a black horse leaped out from the opening in the trees, dirt flying up from his hooves. Clay was riding the horse bareback, his body pressed against the horse’s neck as the horse galloped across the meadow toward the road. Brigid watched as he eased the horse out of the gallop to a trot, then to a walk. He turned the horse away from the house and went down the road toward the highway. Brigid wondered where they were going. A few minutes later, they appeared out of a copse of aspens, walking up the road toward the house. The gleaming ebony horse practically pranced up the driveway having obviously enjoyed the circuitous route through the trees.
They took another detour around the barns and arena and then continued up to the house, stopping in front of Brigid on the porch. The horse seemed somewhat concerned about having someone standing there, but Clay did something and the horse just snorted and stood quietly.
A little afraid to move, Brigid smiled slightly. “So this is the scary horse?”
“Aw, he’s not so scary. Just young. Meet Aziz. He’s got some longer, fancier name, but I can never remember it.”
“He’s gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a pretty horse up close.”
“Yeah, he knows it too.” Clay slid off and took the reins. “Want to walk with us while he cools down some more?”
“Are you sure I won’t cause a problem?”
“He’s fine. It’s good for him to meet new people.”
Brigid walked down the stairs, keeping a close eye on the horse’s movements as she stepped over next to Clay. “All right, but keep him away from dog food bags. If he freaks out, I’m running away as fast as I can.”
“See, you’re learning from my mistakes.”
“I’ll leave you to get stepped on and abraded. I’m way too big of a chicken to gallop some gigantic horse across a field, particularly with no saddle.”
“We were working on paying attention to speed and direction. Going fast and slow over different terrain. Sometimes a saddle can get in the way of communication. It depends on the horse. You convey a lot with your body, so not having anything between you and the horse can be helpful in certain situations. It can help with bonding.”
“Sure.”
“It’s also kind of fun.”
“Your sister might be right about you being a little nuts.”
“Probably.”
After Aziz was cooled down, Clay turned him out into a pasture and the sleek Arabian ambled off into the expanse of grass. Brigid leaned on the fence watching him as Clay closed the gate.
They started back to the house and Brigid said, “Would it be okay if I use your computer again? I need to make another flyer for a dog and one about a meeting I’m having at my house.”
“Sure. I’m not doing anything with it.”
“I’ll try not to stay too late.”
Clay stopped and turned to her. “I told you, it’s no big deal. Do what you need to do.”
“I’m just worried you might want your privacy.”
“There used to be people crawling all over this property.” He gestured toward a small building that was set away from the house. “That’s why that bunk-house is there. It’s got five sets of old wooden bunk beds that were full of ranch hands at certain times of year.”
“That must have been interesting.”
“It had its moments. Privacy is not something I’m particularly concerned about and I like having you here. Pretend you’re a ranch hand if it helps.”
Brigid laughed. “I don’t think anyone will confuse me with a ranch hand.”
“Well, you’re a lot prettier and you smell better than most of them. Except maybe earlier today.”
“I took a shower.”
He grinned and bent to sniff at her. “Yeah, I noticed. That’s quite an improvement.”
They went back to the house and Clay turned on the computer for Brigid. As she settled into the office chair, he picked up a stack of papers and put them on the floor with a thump. “Sorry about the mess in here. You want something to eat?”
“No thank you. You don’t have to feed me all the time.”
“All right.” He crouched down next to the pile of paper and started riffling through it. “I know my filing system isn’t the greatest, but I need to grab a phone number out of here.”
“I didn’t know that was a filing system.”
“I take the archaeological approach. Older stuff is at the bottom. You have to dig for it.” He stood up, holding a small yellow sticky note. “See! I knew just where it was.”
“Impressive. You have many talents.”
Clay placed his hands on the back of the chair and leaned over to whisper in her ear, “You don’t know the half of it. Let me know if you need anything.”
He left the room and Brigid got to work creating her flyers. Good thing she’d had so many secretarial jobs and knew how to touch-type. And that Clay had moved some of the junk off the desk. Last time she was here, she kept bumping into piles of papers, but she’d been afraid to touch anything. Years of office work had taught her to never mess with stuff on someone else�
��s desk without asking first.
With a yawn, she leaned her elbow on the desk, resting her head on her palm as she slowly pecked at characters on the keyboard with one finger. After the long day of being thrown-up on, cleaning, and driving in her disgusting car, maybe she was a little tired.
She jolted awake just as the chair rolled out from under her. At the sensation of falling, her heart skittered in her chest, and then suddenly Clay’s hands grabbed her under the armpits. Setting her back on the chair, he moved back so she could resettle herself. He was wearing nothing except boxer shorts, which revealed the fact that the many bruises on his body had become quite a colorful rainbow of hurt. He scratched his chin absently. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw the light on and came downstairs to turn it off.”
Brigid looked at the screen which no longer displayed her document. It was black with stars shooting by, so it was like she was flying through an episode of Star Trek. “What time is it?”
“About two-thirty.”
“In the morning?”
“Uh yeah, what do you think? It’s dark outside.”
Brigid glanced at the window, which indicated that he was right. It was pitch-black out there and the rain had finally arrived. She tapped the space bar and her document reappeared. She had managed to type three words. How pathetic. “I guess I fell asleep. I need to finish this and get home.”
“Why don’t you just sleep here and finish it in the morning?”
“I told you, I’m not ready for that.”
“Not with me.” Clay sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, then gestured toward the door. “I didn’t mean it like that. This is a four-bedroom house. Just pick a room that doesn’t have me in it and go to sleep. I think sheets are on the beds. I’m sure the one TJ stayed in has them anyway. She gets all hysterical about that kind of thing.”
“I can’t do that. I have to get home. Gypsy is there all by herself.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. But you shouldn’t drive in the middle of the night when you’re this tired and there’s a storm.”
“I guess it was kind of a long day.” Brigid slumped in the chair. “I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.”
Clay leaned against the desk. “You’re not going to be able to keep up all this running around forever.”
“I know. For one thing, I’m going to have to get a job before I bankrupt myself. My savings aren’t going to last much longer, particularly if I keep handing my credit card over to the Alpine Grove Veterinary Clinic.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. You’re doing great so far.”
“I don’t know about that. And I’m not sure what I’m going to do about my car either. At this point, I’m thinking I should just drive into the lake. I think it’s the only thing that will kill the odor.”
Clay smiled. “That is a pretty rank smell you’ve got there.”
“I also had to clean up after a new dog at the station. I think after today my nostrils may never be the same.”
“Well, honey, I’m afraid you’ve set out on a hard road. Take it from me, caring for animals is a full-time job. I don’t care what kind they are—cows, horses, dogs—they always need tending. And the more animals you have, the more people it takes.”
“Today, I called the names on a list of possible volunteers. I couldn’t get through to most of them, but I’m setting up a meeting. I’m sure everything will be better when I have some help.”
“That sounds like a good start.” He reached out a hand to her. “I’m tired, I hurt, and I want to go back to bed. Let’s find you a room, okay? I promise I’ll get you up early and make you coffee, so you can finish this up.”
Brigid took his hand and stood up. “I found out the other day that the coffee you have here is really good.”
Before leading her out of the room, he bent to give her a quick kiss. “Thanks for noticing.”
That wasn’t all she’d noticed, but she resisted the urge to touch all that enticing exposed skin. Her fingertips were practically begging to traverse those stomach muscles, bruised or not. Brigid was reminded of those signs in antique shops, “Look, but don’t touch.” Touching could lead to breaking and she was already broken enough.
Brigid sat bolt upright in bed, the sound of her heartbeat thundering in her ears. A light flashed, briefly illuminating the room. Where was she? She covered her face with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut. Her cheeks were wet, and the screams continued to run through her mind like a continuous audio loop that wouldn’t stop. Not again. It was the dream. The one she hoped she’d never have again. It was back.
Something nudged her and she screamed again, lashing out with her arms. “Get away from me. Stop it! Don’t touch me!”
“Brigid, honey, open your eyes. It’s me.”
She peeked through her lashes and Clay was sitting on the edge of bed with his hands on her wrists, holding her still. Shaking her arms free, she wrapped them around herself. A thunderclap broke the silence and Brigid hunched down, put her hands over her ears, and shut her eyes tightly again, trying to make the lingering images from the dream stop. It needed to get out of her mind.
Clay touched her hand and she looked at him. Another lightning flash lit up his face, and she finally fully returned to the present, remembering where she was and why. He said in a soft voice, “You were screaming.”
“I’m sorry. I had a nightmare.”
“I’ll say. Scout is hiding under my bed.” He wiped the tears off her cheeks with a fingertip and smiled. “He’s not much of a guard dog anymore.”
Brigid tried to return the smile. “I’ll say.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I thought the nightmares were gone. It’s not your problem.”
A sharp thunderclap ripped through the air and Brigid cringed, hunching down toward the bed. Clay took her hand between both of his. “How about this? I’ll crawl in here and hold you until you fall back asleep. If you want to talk, you can. If not, well, I’ll probably fall asleep because I’m tired. So you might get to find out if I snore.”
“Do you really snore?”
“How should I know? I’m asleep. You’ll have to drag Scout out from under my bed and ask him.”
Brigid flipped the bed covers back. “Okay. But if you do snore I reserve the right to throw you out.”
“It’s a deal. Move over.” Clay crawled in and put his arms around her. Brigid nestled into his embrace, laid her head on his chest, and closed her eyes. He stroked her hair and whispered, “Everything will be okay, honey. Just go to sleep.”
Brigid put her palm flat on Clay’s chest so she could feel the beating of his heart. “It’s a recurring dream…nightmare really…it hasn’t happened in a long time. I thought, or well, I hoped it wouldn’t happen again. In the dream, I’m in a room, and it’s like my old apartment, but not exactly. It’s dark and the windows are all boarded up. I’m trapped.”
“What happens?”
Brigid rubbed at her eye with her hand. “My husband or ex-husband or dead husband or whatever you want to call him—John is there. And he’s yelling at me.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It wasn’t. I mean, we yelled a lot, so that part isn’t that different from when I was awake. But this dream is sort of like our last fight, which was worse. It was the last argument we had before he went back to Iraq the last time.”
“What was it about?”
“Silverware.”
Clay paused his hand movement, resting his palm on her hair. “You mean like forks and spoons?”
“Exactly. We had fights about the most stupid things. It was too embarrassing to ever talk about with anyone. Part of me can’t believe I’m telling you this now. But John was a neat-freak and the silverware was one thing he was really picky about. He didn’t like it when the silverware wasn’t stacked perfectly into orderly piles in the silverware drawer. Spoons and forks had
to be nested just right.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that. Well, except I just noticed the spoons were kind of tidy here. I figured TJ got on some new organizational kick or something.”
“No, that was me. During that last fight, John went off about how I was too stupid to even wash dishes right. He yanked out the silverware drawer and dumped it, so everything clattered all over the floor. Then, well, he said much worse things and started destroying our apartment, pushing over furniture and punching holes in the wall. It was like he just finally went over the edge. All those smashing noises—it was so loud—I just kept screaming for him to stop.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Maybe the thunder and being in a strange place made me dream about it again.”
“That’s possible.”
“Like I said, we fought all the time. He’d gotten angry at me lots of times, but it hadn’t been as scary. Before he came home on leave, something bad happened in Iraq that he wouldn’t talk about. I guess it was classified.”
“So you don’t know what happened?”
“No and I never will, but that’s okay. I’ve read enough about PTSD now to know that probably was what was going on.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“More than once?”
“Yes. Which I hate telling you because now you’re going to wonder what was wrong with me, staying in a situation like that for so long. Everyone says, ‘why don’t you just leave?’ but I kept thinking I couldn’t just leave him. How could I do that when he was defending our country? Marriage is a commitment. He was away a lot of the time and I kept thinking we’d be able to work it out if he were home. I felt like I couldn’t abandon him while he was in Iraq. I refused to admit how unhappy I was and I was too stubborn to give up. Army wives are supposed to be tough and support their husbands through thick and thin. I kept thinking it would get better, but it just kept getting worse instead.”
The Good, the Bad, and the Pugly (An Alpine Grove Romantic Comedy Book 7) Page 15
