Forever Wild: A Camden Ranch Novel

by Jillian Neal

  “Thanks,” he managed. But he had no real desire to return home. That would only hasten the confession, only expedite his own end.

  A few minutes later, he stood in his bedroom staring at her beautiful curves cocooned in his sheets. Her long auburn hair painted across his pillows. Her bare ass exposed where she’d kicked the covers off of one leg, and her cleavage tempting him in an image of perfected feminine seduction.

  A rock-like enclosure cinched around his throat. God, he’d always hated Carolyn Jenkins for the way she treated his baby, but he’d never hated anyone the way he despised her good-for-nothing, piece of shit husband. Vengeance stirred temptingly through his veins. When you were fighting a battle you’d already lost you might as well go out in a blaze of glory. There was nothing keeping him from beating out his fury in the mayor’s face. Clarke could arrest him. At least someone would be happy.

  Before he could execute his plan, the shrill ring of his cell phone shattered the relative peace of his room.

  Indie rubbed her eyes and sat up as Luke quickly answered just to shut the damn thing up.

  “Luke!” Aaron Andrews, the bartender from Saddleback’s, voice pled.

  “Hey, man. You okay?” Luke had received numerous phone calls from Aaron since he’d taken up residence in the Glen. Most of the time it was to come check on the dogs, but sometimes the meds and the counseling just couldn’t erase what the guy had been through.

  “No. Something’s wrong. I heard … I don’t know … gunshots. I freaked and returned fire. I don’t know what happened until a few seconds ago. I blacked out or something. And now … Lulu she’s not … she’s not okay. I don’t know. Help me.”

  Lulu was Aaron’s Black Lab. For months, she’d been all he lived for. He’d blacked out after hearing gun shots, probably from hunters near his property despite the posted signs that there was a veteran suffering from PTSD living nearby.

  “Okay, Aaron, deep breath for me. Can you count for me?”

  Aaron complied. “One, two, three .…”

  “That’s it. Just keep counting for me. I’m on my way. I’ll take care of Lulu. Okay? I promise. That’s it. Keep counting.”

  “Who was that? Why did you tell them to count?” Indie was already pulling on her jeans.

  “It was Aaron, from Saddlebacks. He’s not okay. Every time he hears gunshots he has flashbacks. I’ve got to go check on him. I’m sorry, baby, you can’t come with me. I never know what I might be walking into over there. Just stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

  Panic surged through Indie. She couldn’t recall any time in her entire life that she’d ever seen Luke come unglued. He was on the verge of losing it. Something had been wrong last night and now Aaron.

  “He took a platoon into battle in Afghanistan and seven men that were brothers to him didn’t make it back home.”

  Her mind quickly recounted Aaron’s story. Tears pricked her eyes. Poor guy. Luke flew out the door. Racing to the front windows of the house, she watched the dust stirred from the truck tires settle back on the ground.

  Glancing skyward, she stared at the sunrise over the low prairie lands until she could see orange light every time she blinked. “Hey God, it’s me Indie. I know we don’t chat all that often or whatever, but uh, if you can do something that might make Luke smile today, I’d really appreciate it. I swear, no one deserves it more than he does. Oh, wait. Sorry for swearing in a prayer. Uh. Thanks.” There. If Aaron and whatever had happened was okay, Luke would smile and that was really all she’d ever wanted.

  Her eyes landed on the stack of tuxedos Luke had thrown on his couch. She needed something to do besides wearing out his floors pacing until he got back.

  No reason she couldn’t return them to Lincoln. Somehow she knew Luke wouldn’t be back for a while, and she felt like going for a drive anyway. She could even stop by her daddy’s on the way, maybe have coffee and get to know Diana a little better.

  Lifting the hangers, she suddenly remembered that her panties were probably still in his jacket pocket. Mrs. Kilroy had lovingly packed Tucker and Wesley’s tuxes back in the cellophane coverings. The other three belonged to her father, Luke, and Ernie. Scowling as she dug her hand in one of the others she came up empty in both pockets and moved to the next. Bingo. As she pulled the satin thong from the pocket, she gagged and threw it to the ground. Her heart leapt from her chest to her throat in a split second as she stared at a slick black pair of extra-small panties. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh. My. God.”

  Holding up the suit jacket, she stared at it in utter disbelief. Her father was nearing six foot five. Luke stood just an inch shorter. The jacket she was holding was for a man much shorter and rounder.

  Her mother would no more wear a black thong than she would set herself on fire. White cotton ruled Carolyn Jenkins’ extremely conservative world.

  “Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.” She rushed into Luke’s kitchen and located a pair of grill tongs that she planned to incinerate later. Next came a Ziploc bag. She managed those steps before the realization of what she was about to have to tell her own mother settled like a brick in her stomach.

  After everything Carolyn had done or said to her over all of their years on earth together, Indie had never really wanted to hurt her mother. Never like this, anyway. Someone has to tell her. “Ernie you are a rat bastard, and I hope you burn for this.” By way of the tongs, she slipped the evidence in the bag, ordered herself to woman-up, and headed to her mother’s home.

  Aaron was on 3,476 by the time Luke eased quietly through his front door. A Colt .45 was on the floor. He’d searched the property and found no one nearby. Despite all of the insanity going on in his own world, he reminded himself that remaining calm and cool were the only way to help Aaron through the panic attacks.

  Careful not to speak or touch anything, Luke eased to Aaron’s side. He was seated on the floor, dutifully counting. Blood slowly seeped from Lulu’s right rear hip, near an entry wound. Buster, Aaron’s Border Collie mix, circled Lulu constantly, keeping steady watch. Bile singed Luke’s throat. He had to move quickly to remove the bullet without sending Aaron spiraling into another horrendous episode that would surely land him back in the VA hospital in Omaha.

  “Something’s wrong with her,” Aaron voice was terrified and childlike.

  “She’s gonna be okay. Just let me get my bag, and you keep counting.”

  “No. I’m okay now. I need to help her.”

  Luke highly doubted that was true, but arguing with him wasn’t an option. “Uh, okay, help me get her on the table. Can you do that?”

  Aaron managed a nod, ran his dirty hands over his face to wipe away the tears Luke would later swear he never saw, and gently lifted Lulu up onto the old kitchen table.

  Indie slowed her car before turning into her mother’s home. Old newspaper headlines recounting the previous affair, the one where her mother played the part of the mistress, rolled through her mind. For the first time in well over a decade, they didn’t make her want to run. Luke was here. She could do this again. She would survive. As long as he stood by her, she’d make it.

  Taking her time engaging the parking brake and climbing out of her beloved Camaro, she wondered how her mother might react. Fits of hysteria were sure to play their part. Wouldn’t that be fun.

  Ernie’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but Miranda’s was. That was something. She wouldn’t have to do this completely alone. Garnering determination, she rapped on the front door and prayed this wouldn’t come as a complete shock to her mother. Maybe she already suspected or something.

  The words once a cheater always a cheater beat in repetition against Indie’s skull. She knocked again.

  Miranda opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “Where’s mom?” Indie whispered.

  “She’s getting ready. You know that takes like twelve years. What’s going on?”

  “Come on. We need to talk to her before Ernie gets back from wherever the hell he is.”
Grabbing her sister’s arm, they raced up the stairs.

  “Indie, why are you back here this morning? Your stepfather is extremely irritated that you and Luke were in his private office yesterday. You need to leave before he gets back. I don’t want you upsetting him again.”

  Quite accustomed to playing the role of the unwanted, Indie let the disdain roll off her back, this time with a little effort.

  “I really could not care less that Ernie is upset, Mama. I honestly couldn’t. Do these happen to be yours?” She held up the makeshift panty bag.

  “What on earth?” Carolyn and Miranda both stared at Indie like she’d sprouted two additional heads.

  “I found these in Ernie’s tuxedo jacket. If they’re not yours, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t, I think you might want to call your lawyer.”

  Miranda’s mouth hung open for a full minute before she slapped her hand over it.

  Carolyn, however, rolled her eyes. “That is ridiculous, Indieanna. I suppose this is like the time you glued your stepfather’s hairpiece to the counter or backed over his best putter with your father’s car, hmm? Still trying to get back at us for ruining your life or whatever it is you’re so convinced we did.”

  Gall flooded Indie’s chest. She narrowed her eyes and tried with all of her might to keep her temper in check. There was a first time for everything, she reminded herself. “No, Mother, it is not like those times. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m telling you that your husband is cheating on you.”

  “With that Tiffany chick,” Miranda vowed.

  “Tiffany?” Her mother actually chuckled. Dear God. Indie was going to kill her. “His secretary. Really, Miranda. This is ridiculous.”

  “Mother!” Indie erupted. “You were his freaking secretary and he cheated on his wife then with YOU! My God, would you really rather believe him than us?”

  Spite clouded Carolyn’s pine green eyes. Indie recognized the look all too well. It was like staring into a mirror. “You know, I have put up with just about enough of you, Indieanna Harper. I’ll have you know that I share something with Ernie his first wife, and most certainly Tiffany, will never share with him.”

  “Oh yeah. What’s that?” Indie spurned her on.

  “Children.”

  “What happened to her?” Aaron asked this continually. “I don’t understand what happened to her.”

  “Not sure,” Luke lied. “But we’re gonna get her fixed up, okay? Just keep breathing for me. She’s doing great.”

  “But I don’t understand what happened to her.”

  “I know.” Opening the wound further to clean it and repair the damaged muscle tissue, Luke searched for the bullet. He prayed it wasn’t in her bladder or reproductive organs. If there was internal bleeding, it was highly unlikely he’d be able to save Lulu.

  There it was. His heart thundered out its thankfulness and his shock. A bullet had lodged in Lulu’s hip bone, but it wasn’t from a .45. It had come from a much smaller gun. When he finished here, he’d be going to the sheriff’s office. Whoever fired the gun had some explaining to do. For now, the bullet had to come out if he was going to save her leg and her ability to run. She was a hunting dog by breed. Lulu loved to run almost as much as she adored Aaron. She’d survive, but he hated to leave her without a limb.

  Two veterinary nurses, a Navy psychologist, and an actual degree would’ve come in real handy just then. Since none of those were readily available, determination set his jaw. He’d get this done, but it was going to be a couple of hours. He just needed Aaron to hang in there with him.

  As if it had been written in some horror movie script, when Indie finally managed to make some sense of what her mother had just confessed, Ernie marched into the master bedroom carrying papers. He was followed by two men in designer suits.

  Willing her heart to locate some kind of steady pulse, Indie tried to order the tears burning her eyes away. She lost the fight when her father slunk into the room with red-rimmed, horror-stricken eyes of his own.

  “Daddy.” She raced into his arms. How could any of this be true? It just couldn’t be.

  “If you want to cry and blame someone, Anna Harper, you blame that snooping boyfriend of yours. If he hadn’t found this yesterday, I might’ve decided not to go through with all of this. As it stands, he’s left me no choice. I’m certain he informed you that your sisters are merely your half-sisters. Your father has willingly agreed to sign over his land to me so I won’t be announcing this to the papers. Your work here is done,” Ernie sneered viciously.

  “What?!” Indie jerked from her father’s grasp. This had to all be some kind of horrible nightmare. None of it could actually be true.

  Silent tears leaked down Miranda’s face. “No. No, you will never ever be anything to me but the asshole who married my mother. You will never, ever call me your daughter. Do you understand that?” She replaced Indie in Ben’s arms. “Never!”

  “Ernie, why on earth are you prattling on about Ben’s land? No one wants that godforsaken piece of property. It’s not even in the best part of town,” Carolyn disdained.

  “Hush up, Carolyn. I have our divorce papers here.” He jerked something else out of one of those folders.

  Indie’s mind was on life support. She couldn’t make sense of anything going on around her. “Daddy, you are not giving him your land. What is he even talking about?”

  “I don’t want to put you all through this, baby girl. I don’t need nothing but my girls. All of them.” Ben brushed a kiss on the top of Miranda’s head. She strengthened her hold as tears continued to shudder violently through her.

  “Put us through what? We already know now,” Indie shrieked.

  “Any of it.”

  Indie turned on her stepfather, her temper making a rapid recovery though the rest of her was still adrift at sea. “You are nothing more than a coward asslicker of the lowest degree. You aren’t even worth the gunpowder it would take to blow your ass to hell, though that is precisely where you belong. Daddy may not want to tell the town about all of your affairs, but I will. I’ll tell them all. Every single one of them. Your days in the Glen are numbered, Ernie. Go pack up your precious desk.”

  “And you have always been a fat-ass brat put on this earth to gall me. Unfortunately, this time, I’m certain you’re right. I’ve no doubt Luke went straight to his father with all of this when he discovered it yesterday. I’ve phoned Tucker and Melony to inform them that they aren’t actually married since her name is incorrect on the license.”

  “Wait. What? Luke knew about all of this?”

  “My word, you’re fat, and stupid, too. I’ve said that repeatedly. Found one of those stupid hair pin things stuck in the file cabinet drawer. I feel certain it was yours since you two were up there snooping yesterday.”

  Suddenly, everything she never wanted to understand made perfect sense. Her aunts’ disdain. Her mother’s hatred. Why she looked nothing like Miranda and Melony, the Double Mint twins.

  “Daddy, Indie’s right. We’ll tell everyone. You aren’t giving him your land. I won’t let you. Why does he even want it anyway? None of this makes any sense, and I don’t care what Mama says or what any blood test proves. I’m not his little girl. I’m your little girl,” Miranda pled. “We’ll tell the whole town, and we don’t care what they think.”

  Indie tried to hear Miranda’s voice, but should couldn’t make out the words. An incessant hum shrilled constantly in her ear. Luke knew and he’d said nothing. She’d asked repeatedly. He’d said he found nothing in that stupid office. She’d made love with him the night before. He’d sworn for half of her life that he’d never lie to her, but he’d let her go on thinking whatever had gotten to him wasn’t that important. He’d lied to her outright.

  It was all more than she could bear. Her little sisters weren’t even hers, not really. Tears streamed down her father’s face, shattering what little remained of her heart. Her mother’s constant derision her entire life was because Indie was the
unwanted child. All of the air in her lungs seized. She couldn’t breathe. She could see through the hot tears scalding her eyelids. Acid churned in her stomach. Her head spun. Only one thing made sense. She had to run. Running would make her body breathe again. She had to save herself. She had to survive. It was all she’d ever known how to do.

  “Indie, baby, please don’t .…” her father’s plea closed in around her throat as she flew out of the room. The echo of her own footsteps down the stairs sounded foreign, but at least she could hear them when she was far enough away from that room.

  The roar of her engine jolted her back to life. How could he have done this? Maybe she didn’t know Luke at all anymore. It had only been a week. And the most important secret there would ever be, he’d kept from her.

  An hour later her body jerked spastically when she crossed Kansas state line. She was never going back.

  Aaron was having more and more moments of clarity. Luke held his breath and gently wiggled the bullet back and forth to work it out of the bone. His cell phone rang in his pocket, and he almost dropped the bullet.

  Cursing under his breath, he forced himself to focus.

  “Want me to answer that?” Aaron was desperate to help some way. This work was too precise to let be of much assistance.

  “Hey, you know what my brothers do for me sometimes when I’m working on one of our heifers and someone calls?”

  Aaron shook his head but was now fully focused on Luke. His eyes and breathing were steady now. This was all going to be fine. Luke told himself this repeatedly.

  “They answer the phone and hold it up to my ear for me.”

  “You got it.” Aaron answered. “Hey Tucker, yeah, Luke’s working on Lulu for me. I’ll hold the phone for him.”

  Why the hell was Tuck calling him from his honeymoon suite at some fancy-ass hotel in Lincoln? They were supposed to be there all weekend.

  With the bullet out, Luke began checking for any bone fragments that needed to be removed, but Lulu was out of the woods.