The Wrangler

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Did that work?”

  “It worked for three years,” Gus said. “You gotta understand, I was driving hundreds of miles once a week to check on them. Buck knew I was good for my word. When I’d arrive, I’d thoroughly check Val out. I didn’t want to see any bruises on her little body. Cheryl promised that Buck had settled down. He’d yell at them, but he never lifted a hand toward them when drunk.” Gus heaved a sigh.

  “But that changed. When Val was four, she left the house one day in early June because she saw a butterfly on a flower in the front yard. Val loved butterflies. Buck caught her down in the garden area where she’d chased it to. He pulled off his leather belt and beat the tar outta her. Val wasn’t supposed to leave the house on her own at that age.”

  Anger flowed through Griff. “She was only four years old. Little kids explore. They don’t realize—”

  Gus held up her hand. “I know what you’re gonna say. And I agree with you. Buck brought Val back to the house screaming to the high heavens. He tossed her into her bedroom and locked the door. Cheryl, who was in the basement doin’ washing, heard her daughter screaming. She ran up the stairs and confronted Buck. He told her she should have been watching Val. Cheryl was outraged that he’d struck Val with a leather belt. Buck went after her with his fists. She never told me or Pete about it. Then, when Val was sixteen, Buck beat Cheryl so badly she ended up in the hospital.”

  “God,” Griff whispered. He saw Gus frown, her blue eyes squinting with pain. “I’m so sorry….”

  “Cheryl called me from the hospital. She had a busted jaw, fractured eye socket and a broken arm. I called the Teton County sheriff and slapped assault charges against Buck.”

  “Pete and I immediately drove over to the Bar H. Val was in terrible emotional shape. She was so broken by her father’s latest, worst attack upon her mother. When we got here, Val sobbed and ran into my arms. She shook like a leaf in a storm.” Gus wiped the tears from her eyes. “To this day, I’ll never forget that moment. That girl clung to me like I was the last life preserver thrown off the Titanic.”

  Griff didn’t know what to say. The anguish in Gus’s face and voice was palpable. He wanted to help, but didn’t know how. He reached out and touched her arm for a moment. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, don’t never mind me!” She dug a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “I just get so angry over it all. Cheryl refused to press assault charges against Buck. He came home with a smirk on his face. I’ll never forget the smug look he gave me. I’m convinced Cheryl died early because she was so beaten down in every way by Buck.”

  “Val went off to college because she wanted to get away from this horrible place full of evil memories and experiences and never return.” Gus sighed and stuffed the tissue back in her pocket. “I feel bad for cajoling her to come home. I know the memories that haunt her. But I’m not going to let Buck Hunter drive our family away from our homestead! Val has a lot on her table, Griff. She’s wrestling with the past every minute of every day. She lived in a hell we can’t ever imagine.”

  Shaking his head, Griff gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m really sorry, Gus. I wish I could do something to fix it.”

  “No one can. Val’s carrying her family’s collective wounds. I try to love her, support her, but she’s got the past all bottled up inside of her just like her mother did. She’s sitting on a keg of dynamite. I’m worried that it will manifest itself as a disease. Cheryl died of cancer. It’s a proven medical fact that people who get this dreaded disease are often suppressing or repressing their bad feelings and terrible experiences. I’m trying with all my heart to get her to open up, but she’s just as closed up as her mother was.”

  “I noticed,” Griff said, “that she doesn’t trust me. At first, I couldn’t figure it out. I wondered if it was something I’d done or said.”

  Patting his hand, Gus said, “No, it’s not you, son. I really think Val sees all men through the glass darkly of her father. He broke her trust in all men with what he did to her.”

  A cold, drenching feeling flowed through Griff. “She’s beautiful and intelligent, Gus. I was wondering why she wasn’t married.”

  Gus grabbed her cane and walked over to the kitchen sink. “She’s avoided men most of her life. And then, when she went into the Air Force, I cried, thinking she’d gone from a war in her family to a different kind of war. I’ve done a lot of reading up on abused children. People like Val, who are wounded and haven’t been able to discharge the terror and anger toward their abuser, often choose risky or dangerous careers.”

  “Sort of like carrying a psychic disease,” Griff suggested.

  “Yep.” Gus rested her hips against the sink and looked toward him. “Abuse is like a toxic infection to a person’s heart and soul. If they don’t learn how to release it, clean themselves out, they live with this monster inside them forever.”

  “Val carries the family’s skeletons within her. I’m confounded on how to help her.”

  “I don’t know how I should act around her, either. I don’t want to cause her more stress.”

  “You know, I’ve worked with abused animals before and the best thing you can do is have a quiet voice, a gentle touch and don’t press them. Over time, I’ve seen animals overcome their hurtful past and learn how to trust once more. But it all takes time….”

  His heart ached for Val. He had never had as powerful a reaction to any woman as he had to her. There was something mysterious and desirable about her. She beckoned to him and Griff knew it wasn’t mutual. This all explained what he had seen in her, why every time Val looked at him, he saw wariness in her gaze. His heart lurched in his chest. Griff felt driven to help her escape the prison of her past. But how could he get her to trust him?

  CHAPTER NINE

  VAL NEEDED SOME help. It was late afternoon, the temperature in the high eighties and the barn sweltering with heat. Wiping her perspiring brow with the back of her glove, she walked outside and dragged in a deep breath of cooler air. Down below the gently sloping hill where the barn stood, she saw Griff at work pulling out old posts from the dismantled corral. He’d removed his shirt, his upper body gleaming with sweat. For a moment, she simply watched the powerful movements of his well-muscled arms, his broad shoulders bunching and deep chest expanding as he hauled the recalcitrant post out of the dry ground. He looked like a Greek god, Apollo, come to life. And it stirred her heart and lower body. The sensations were unexpected, but lush and gratifying.

  This was the first time she’d seen Griff naked from the waist up. He was focused on his work, his Stetson shading his eyes from the harsh rays of the sun overhead. His flesh shone like bronze. In this part of the country, sun was at a premium and men would often shed their shirt during the summer just to absorb the rays. Winter came early to Wyoming and stayed late. With so many cloudy days ahead, Val understood why Griff was taking maximum advantage of the sunshine.

  Griff crouched to pet their black-and-white barn cat, Tuxedo. The five-year-old male had a white vest, black body, four white paws and a blaze down his face. He kept the area free of mice, gophers and rats. A softened smile came to Val’s lips as she watched Tuxedo rub himself across Griff’s knees. Her heart lurched when Val realized he was smiling and talking to the cat as if it were a human.

  A memory came smashing back to Val. She was eight years old and she watched her father shoot a stray cat walking through the pasture. Val had tried to give the cat warning, but it had been too late. Buck hated cats. Val remembered running away from her father and into the ranch house. She’d found her mother baking in the kitchen. Clinging to her, Val sobbed out the shocking event. Her mother had become agitated. She’d pulled her into a bedroom upstairs and told her to stop crying. She now understood that her mother was just scared that Buck would become enraged at her tears, but back then Val couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her ch
eeks. She loved all animals and to see her father kill one for no good reason was just too much for her tender, young heart.

  Sighing, Val dragged herself out of the unhappy memory. Just focusing on Griff as he talked to and petted the cat soothed some of the anguish she felt. What was it about this wrangler? He made her feel safe in an unsafe world. Something deep inside of her urged her to go down and ask Griff for the help she needed but was afraid to ask for. Val rarely trusted any man. She had found safety in her job as an intel specialist and working with a drug unit from time to time. Her day job was mostly comprised of women and she felt secure among them. Sometimes, she was out in the field in undercover operations. Men always made her feel threatened for no obvious reason. Her boss had been a man in his fifties, and was considered a wonderful boss by everyone. Yet, Val’s alarms went off any time he walked by her desk or worked with her on interpretation of the photos taken by drones. She was always relieved when he walked away from her desk.

  But Griff inspired a different feeling from her entirely. Somehow feeling safe enough to ask this man for help, Val sauntered down the grassy slope toward the dismantled corral to the left of the ranch house. As she approached, she saw Griff glance up in her direction. At first, he looked surprised. And then he straightened up and reached out to grab his shirt from a nearby post. By the time she arrived, Griff had buttoned his shirt up. There was a curious code in the West, Val realized. Most men still treated women as special. They were like knights from the olden days. And a woman was treated like a princess.

  “I need some help up in the barn,” she told him without preamble, trying to remain immune to his perspiring face and those narrowing green eyes. “I’ve run into some trouble removing a corner four-by-four. Do you have a moment?”

  “Sure.” Griff leaned down, petted the cat one more time and then pulled the gloves from his belt. “Let’s go.”

  As they walked side by side, Val made sure there was plenty of room between them. She liked his easy gait. Griff carried himself proudly, his shoulders back and head held high. A question tore out of her before she could stop it. “Were you ever in the military?”

  “Me?” Griff smiled at her as they walked up the gravel driveway toward the barn. “No. I thought about it. My father had been in the Marine Corps. I remember a number of times him urging us boys to think about going in for an enlistment. He said the military was a real gift to him.”

  They entered the shade within the barn. “How was it a gift?” she wondered, walking down the main passageway. Val felt herself yearning to know more about Griff. He wasn’t like a lot of other men she’d known. There was a sensitivity to him and it drew her whether she liked it or not.

  Griff lifted his hat off his head and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Dad said it gave him a good work ethic. You finished what you started.” Settling the hat on his head, Griff tried not to stare at Val. She was wearing a form-fitting dark blue tee that outlined her upper body to perfection. Her arms were firm and clearly well muscled. He watched as she pulled on her sweat-stained gloves and halted at the box stall she’d been dismantling earlier. His body stirred. There was nothing about Val that didn’t beckon to him. Griff tucked those needs away. “Looks like you’re doing a good job here,” he said, gesturing to the box stall. All the wood had been removed and only two main corner supports were still in the ground.

  “I was,” Val groused as she patted the four-by-four in front of them. “I can’t haul this thing out by myself.” She pointed to the large hole she’d dug around the base of it. “I think when my grandfather built this barn, he used twelve-foot lengths of posts, not eight.”

  Crouching down, Griff studied the hole. Running his gloved hand down the length of what she’d dug up, he said, “I think you’re right.” Straightening, he grabbed a nearby shovel and began to widen the hole. “Your grandfather did it right. You want a box stall sturdy enough to hold the most cantankerous bull or a stallion.”

  Val stood back and watched. “He never shied away from doing the hard work,” she said. Griff shoveled the dirt into a nearby wheelbarrow.

  Another memory from the past flowed into Val’s mind. When her father was forced to muck out the box stalls, he’d hurl the straw and horse poop out the door and onto the aisle floor. Later, Val was made to shovel it all into the wheelbarrow. She could never understand why her father hadn’t put the stuff directly into the wheelbarrow. Buck hated cleaning out stalls and had his wranglers do it whenever they were available. Most of the wranglers quit the Bar H within three or four months because Buck did nothing but yell and curse at them.

  For the next ten minutes, Griff widened the hole. He was acutely aware of Val standing there. She made him feel strong, and there was something warm and satisfying simply being near her. Finishing the chore, he straightened and rested the shovel against the wall. “Okay, I’m going to try and pull this post out.”

  “Good luck, I tried it a number of times,” she said, pointing to the front of her dirty tee.

  Griff positioned himself, feet on either side of the hole. He wrapped his arms around the thick oak post. Using his legs and knees, he tried to haul the post upward. It wouldn’t budge. Grunting, he tried again, but was surprised by how stubborn the corner post was. Releasing it, he took a step back. “This is one ornery customer.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Griff met and held her amused gaze. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he said, “Okay, time to rethink this.”

  Val pointed to the other wall opposite the stall. “How about we wrap that chain around it and use the tractor to pull it out?”

  Brightening, he smiled at her. “Hey, that’s a great idea. You’re pretty good at problem solving.”

  Heat stung her neck and moved into her cheeks. Val groaned inwardly. Griff’s sincere praise went straight through her defenses and touched her wildly beating heart. When he smiled, she felt like the sun itself was shining upon her. “Women have brains, too,” she said a bit defensively, going over to retrieve the chains off a large wall hook.

  Griff chuckled. “No need to convince me. I’ll go get the tractor and be right back.”

  Dragging the chains across the aisle to the posthole, Val tried to ignore Griff walking out of the barn. But she couldn’t. He moved with fluidity and confidence. What would it be like to feel strong and powerful? Scowling, Val set to work wrapping the chains several times around the post. She wished for the thousandth time Griff wasn’t so easy on her eyes. Surely, he had a woman in his life! How could he not? Yet, Val thought as she placed the thick metal hook into the wrapped chains, she had never heard him speak about anyone. Somehow she felt it would be safer if she convinced herself he was attached.

  Minutes later, Griff rode the green John Deere tractor into the barn. He backed it in slowly to where the chain hooks lay about three feet away from the post. Val secured the hooks to the large round metal hole at the rear of the tractor. “You want to do the honors?” Griff asked, gesturing to the machine.

  Val was surprised at his invitation. Most men would never relinquish their position to let a woman do the work instead. But the look in his eyes was searching and sincere. “Yes, I’d like to.” Val walked to the tractor, mounted it and turned the key. The tractor spit and sputtered, finally catching and coming alive. Val slowly eased the vehicle forward until the chains grew tight.

  “Okay,” Griff shouted above the sound of the engine, “go ahead.” He gestured for her to begin to inch the tractor forward.

  Val knew from long experience that one didn’t roar and jerk on a post or chain. It could flip the tractor and potentially injure or kill her. This was not something attempted lightly or without thought. She slowly eased her foot down on the accelerator pedal and felt the tractor hunker down, the thick tires digging for purchase on the concrete. The roar of the engine echoed throughout the tall, high barn.

  Suddenly
, the chain snapped. The tractor lurched forward, nearly unseating Val. She slammed on the brakes and quickly twisted around in the seat. Her eyes widened in terror as she saw that the broken chain had struck Griff’s left forearm. He had been standing too close to the post and was thrown backward by the powerful strike of the loose chain. His face was frozen with pain, his right glove over his bleeding arm.

  Oh, God! Val quickly killed the engine and leaped off the tractor. Without thinking, she knelt near Griff. “Are you all right?” she gasped unsteadily, her fingers touching his gloved hand.

  Grimacing, Griff rasped, “It’s not broken, I know that much.” He wriggled his fingers.

  “This will hurt.” Val gently pulled his hand away to look at the injury.

  Griff was amazed as the pain momentarily went away. Val’s touch was gentle, their heads nearly touching as she studied the damage done to his left arm.

  “Oh, Griff, this is bad.” The chain had struck his lower arm, ripped the shirt fabric and chewed up his flesh. It was bleeding heavily. “We have to get you to the hospital right away!”

  “Get me a clean towel first,” he told her in a gruff tone. Pain drifted up his arm as he tried to get to his feet. Val slipped her hand around his waist and helped him stand. For a moment, Griff felt dizziness wash over him. Val’s face held terror. Her lips were parted, her blue eyes huge with fear—for his injury. “I’ll be okay,” he whispered, forcing out the words. “I’ll meet you at the truck. Just get me a towel to put over this thing so I don’t bleed out.”

  Nodding, Val ran out of the barn and raced for the ranch house. She hit the porch at a run. Jerking open the screen door, she found Gus in the kitchen. She quickly explained what happened and pulled a clean, fresh hand towel from a drawer.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I can,” she called breathlessly to Gus, racing out the door, the keys to the truck in hand. She saw Griff already in the passenger seat as she skipped down the stairs. Gasping for breath, Val pulled open the passenger-side door.