by Janet Dailey
“Where have you been, Aunt Kira?” Paige held still so Kira could tie her sneakers.
“Just out for a morning ride. I needed some quiet time.”
“Maybe you could take me with you next time. I could sit on the horse with you and hold on tight. If you wanted quiet, I wouldn’t make a sound.”
“Oh, honey . . .” Kira finger-combed Paige’s hair and fixed the ponytail. The flowered top and striped Jeggings would have to do for the day. At least they were clean. “I’ll take you riding one of these days, maybe after the students go. But hey, tomorrow we’ll be going into town for the day, to see the fiesta and the old mission and have tacos for lunch. You get to come along.”
Her small face lit. “Is Mister Jake coming with us?”
“Not this time.” Kira had sensed that the question would come up. By now, Dusty was well enough to make the trip as long as Kira drove the vehicle. The old man had been eager to go, which meant that Jake could be left behind—less awkward for him, for her and for Paige.
“But I want Mister Jake to come. I won’t bother him, I promise.”
“Somebody has to stay here and take care of the ranch. Besides, your grandpa will be going. You can hang out with him. Okay?”
Paige sighed, looking down at her feet. “Okay.”
“Fine.” Kira took her hand. “Let’s go wash up and get some breakfast.”
“Aunt Kira?” Paige paused at the door. “Why doesn’t Mister Jake ever shave? I think he’d look nice without a beard.”
Kira’s pulse stumbled. Did Jake’s daughter suspect the truth? “Maybe Mister Jake likes the beard,” she said. “Besides, those short, scruffy beards are in style these days. A lot of movie stars have them.”
“Do you think he’d shave it off if I asked him to?” Paige persisted.
“I don’t know. But you’re not going to ask him because you promised not to bother him.”
“Are you mad at me, Aunt Kira? You sound like it.” Paige’s dark eyes were as innocent as a puppy’s.
Kira bent and hugged her. “I could never be mad at you. But you must promise that you won’t bother Mister Jake about his beard.”
“All right, I won’t bother him. But I still think he’d look nicer if he shaved.” She sighed as Kira ushered her into the house.
Paige was an intuitive child. Raised among adults, she was more aware of things going on around her than most people realized. How much longer, Kira wondered, could she be protected from the truth about Jake? Was her question about his beard a sign that she was already watching him, wondering whether he was hiding something?
Maybe it would be wise to tell her the truth before she guessed it on her own. But that decision wasn’t Kira’s to make. It was Jake’s, and she knew he wasn’t ready.
She owed it to Jake to warn him that his daughter might be getting suspicious. What happened next would be up to him. She hoped he wouldn’t just shoulder his pack and leave. But Kira was learning that Jake was his own man; there were many things she couldn’t control.
* * *
After the emotional start to Kira’s day, the rest of the morning had its own ups and downs. From the beginning, Kira had told her students that they would move ahead together or not at all. Today, as they practiced saddling and bridling their horses in the paddock, she noticed them assisting each other—Calvin helping Faith untangle her bridle, Brandon helping Lanie lift the heavy saddle onto her horse, Heather checking Patrick’s cinch. This was an important part of the program, working together for the good of the group. It pleased her to see how well the youngsters were learning their lessons.
Only Mack still seemed to be having problems. The husky fifteen-year-old, who’d come here with anger issues, had chosen a docile paint gelding named Patches. A few days ago, when Patches had misunderstood a command, Mack had yanked hard at the lead rope and yelled curses at the horse. Unaccustomed to such behavior, Patches had become wary of the boy.
Today, as Mack tried to get the bit into the horse’s mouth, Patches was having none of it. The brown-and-white gelding was snorting and jerking away, and Mack was becoming more and more frustrated. To make matters worse, none of the other students had offered to help. Mack was the person nobody wanted to work with.
Kira could sense the boy’s anger building. Much more of this, and he was liable to punch the horse or pick a fight with one of the other students—either of which could get him sent home.
She was about to intervene and suggest a break, but Jake, who was there to help supervise, stepped between the boy and the horse.
“Whoa, there,” he said. “Look, Mack, this horse is scared of you. Back off for a minute or two. Give yourself and Patches some breathing space. Then try to show him that you’re his friend.”
Mack backed away a few steps, but his face was flushed, his breathing agitated. “That horse hates me,” he said. “I want a different one.”
“Horses don’t hate,” Jake said. “And you stay with the horse you chose, that’s the rule.”
“It’s a dumb-ass rule,” Mack said.
“You might think so,” Jake said. “But if you give up on this horse now, he’s won. You need to show him that the two of you can still be partners. Don’t worry about the bridle for now. Just put it aside. Pet him and talk to him until he calms down. Then try the bridle again.”
Kira watched Jake talk the boy through the process of calming the horse and putting on the bridle. Jake had learned a lot about horses from listening to Dusty, and he was a natural with the students. If she could talk him into staying, he could prove to be a real asset to the therapy program.
But getting Jake to stay would involve a lot more than just giving him a job. It would mean giving him a home and a family—and getting him to accept those things.
With time and patience, Mack was finally successful. Kira praised her students. She had them remove and stow the tack, then dismissed them for lunch. They were getting impatient to ride. But, as she reminded them, only after every one of them could saddle and bridle a horse without supervision would they be ready to mount up and take their first trail ride.
As the students scattered to get ready for lunch, Kira caught up with Jake outside the paddock fence. “You were terrific with Mack,” she said. “I was getting worried about him.”
“The kid just needed to back off and cool down,” Jake said. “I hope he learned a thing or two.”
Side by side, they started toward the house, walking slow enough to talk.
“You could stay and do this—manage the students and help them with the horses,” she said. “You’re good at it, Jake.”
“I thought I was just filling in for Dusty.”
“Dusty can still teach. But I don’t know when, if ever, he’ll be strong enough to take over the active work. If there’s nobody else to help, he’ll try. But he’s an old man. I don’t want him to push himself into another heart attack.”
“Are you offering me a job, Kira?” His dark eyes seemed to mock her.
“If you want it. We can negotiate your pay. You’re too valuable to be just a handyman.”
“Whoa!” He stopped her. “I never said yes. Besides, do you really want a part-time maniac working with your students? What happens if something gets to me and I take a dive off the deep end?”
She scuffed at the gravel with her boot. “I was hoping that your being here with Paige and working with the horses would help keep you calm.”
“It might. But what you saw last night was just the tip of the iceberg. When my nerves start misfiring, things can get ugly. I could tell you stories. . . .” His voice trailed off. He began to walk again. “I get the impression that your liability insurance is already high. What would happen if your insurer found out you’d hired a man who smashes chairs into TV screens?”
She sighed, keeping pace with him. “Will you at least give it some thought? You’ll be here awhile yet. We can see how it goes. Meanwhile, know that the offer still stands.”
“I
’ll keep it in mind. But no promises.” He turned away and walked off toward his cabin. Torn, Kira watched him go. Jake was a good man in so many ways. But he was right about his condition. He knew what he was capable of, and he knew the risks even better than she did.
She recalled his first morning here, when the sound of dynamite blasting had triggered a reaction. He had flung himself on top of her, protecting her with his life from what he perceived as a deadly danger.
How could she not trust him?
But how could she trust the safety of her students, her practice and the child she loved to a broken man—a man who fought a never-ending battle with the demons in his head?
And how could she trust the safety of her own heart?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
On that afternoon, Kira’s scheduled interview was with Mack. Good timing, she reflected as she waited in her office. After his morning frustration, they’d have a few things to talk about.
He walked in a few minutes later, a stocky blond boy with a round face and blue eyes that never quite made contact. Kira had met his parents. The father, who owned a Cadillac dealership in Scottsdale, was a pushy glad-handing man, a former football star at Arizona State. The mother was a petite woman with rigidly coiffed blond hair, designer clothes and redneck grammar. Kira made it a rule not to judge people, but after meeting them, she sympathized with their son.
“Sit down, Mack.” She opened a chilled Dr Pepper, which she knew he liked, and gave it to him. “I was proud of you this morning, the way you stuck with bridling Patches and didn’t give up until you got it done.”
“I wanted to quit,” he said. “But Jake wouldn’t let me. Besides, I knew the other kids would be mad if I didn’t finish. That’s a dumb-ass rule, that we can’t ride till everybody can saddle and bridle a horse. They all hate me because I’m slowing them down.”
“Nobody hates you, Mack.”
“Yes, they do. They all hate me. Even that stupid horse.”
“What about your roommate? How are you getting along with Brandon?”
Mack chugalugged his soda. “Okay, I guess. But he keeps to himself. We don’t have much to talk about. Why can’t I trade? I’d rather be with Patrick.”
Mack and Patrick, two troublemakers in the same cabin. Not likely, Kira thought.
“So Brandon doesn’t seem to hate you, and Patrick doesn’t hate you. And I don’t think Calvin hates anybody.”
“No, but those snooty girls hate me. At first, I thought Lanie was kind of cute. But she won’t even look at me.”
Kira suppressed a sigh. “What’s really on your mind, Mack? If you could tell me one thing, what would it be?”
He gazed down at the empty soda can, crushing it between his hands. “I guess I just don’t like horses much,” he said. “My mom and dad made me come here. They said it would help me get along better—you know, with other people. But it isn’t working.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kira said, meaning it. “But thank you for being honest with me. Are you saying you want to go home?”
He shook his head, looking miserable. “Home isn’t much fun. Dad’s always after me—to make something of myself, he says. And my mom’s always at the spa or out with her friends. I’d rather stay here. But can’t I do something else, like maybe help with the work? I feel stupid when my horse won’t mind. And then I get mad.”
Kira could understand the boy’s loneliness and frustration. Her natural impulse would have been to give him a hug, but that was another rule she couldn’t afford to break. And Mack’s parents had paid to have him work with the horses. She could hardly turn him into a helper, even if that was what he wanted.
“Tell you what,” she said. “I know you had a tough morning. If you’re not feeling up to it, I’ll give you and Patches a break for the rest of the afternoon. Tomorrow we’ll be going into town to visit some historic spots and watch a fiesta celebration. That’ll be a nice change for you. After that, if you want, we can talk about ways to help you enjoy your horse.”
She walked him to the porch, Mack scuffing his feet. The boy needed a way to feel good about himself. How could she give him that?
After he’d gone, she went back inside. She’d promised to read Paige more of Charlotte’s Web, a book the little girl loved. At two p.m., the students, with Dusty helping supervise, would be doing more groundwork with their horses. Then, with Kira in charge, they’d walk them along the easy mountain trail above the ranch.
Consuelo had already gone home for a break. Dinner tonight would be another cookout, and Kira would fix a light breakfast tomorrow morning. With the group spending much of the day in town, Consuelo wouldn’t be needed until they returned at dinnertime.
All through lunch, Kira had listened to the sound of hammering on the stable roof. She knew Jake had wanted to finish the repairs so he could spend time on the motorcycle. So far, he’d been too busy to pin down the engine problem. Once he found it, he could take the next step, finding and ordering the parts he needed online.
Now the sound of hammering had stopped. A glance through the window confirmed that the ladder was gone from outside the stable. Jake probably hadn’t taken the time to eat. She could bring him a sandwich—but no, she’d promised Paige she’d read to her. Jake could get his own sandwich if he was hungry. She had to stop micromanaging the man. It would only annoy him.
“Aunt Kira!” Paige came bounding down the hall, waving the well-worn book. “You promised!”
“So I did.” Kira accepted the small hand and allowed herself to be led to the sofa.
* * *
Jake was checking the starter on the bike when he realized someone was watching him. He glanced up to see Mack standing just outside the open shed. “Hey, Mack,” he said.
“Hey.” Mack watched in silence for a few moments. “That’s a cool bike. What’re you doing with it?”
“Trying to figure out why it won’t run.” Jake reached for a screwdriver.
“Can I come in and watch?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working with your horse?”
“Kira said I could take a break this afternoon. So can I watch you? I won’t get in the way.”
“All right, but stay out of my light and keep still.”
Mack walked into the shed and leaned over Jake’s shoulder, his shadow falling across Jake’s hands. “Not so close,” Jake said, reminding himself that the boy wasn’t one of his army recruits.
“Maybe it has a dead battery,” Mack said, backing up a couple of steps. “Or maybe it just needs new spark plugs.”
“Maybe so,” Jake said. “It sounds like you know a little bit about motorcycles.”
Mack grinned. “My mom’s brother has an old Harley. He lets me help him work on it when I’m at his place. He’s even let me drive it a few times when there weren’t any cops around. I want to get my own bike as soon as I’m old enough.”
“Well, don’t rush it,” Jake said. “They can be pretty dangerous to ride. I know some messed-up guys who got that way crashing their bikes.”
Mack was silent, but only for a moment. “Maybe it’s just out of gas,” he said.
“Maybe.” But Jake doubted it. McQueen wouldn’t have left the bike here if it had just needed gas. But he’d bet money the tank had never been drained. It was likely to have some residue inside that would need cleaning out before the tank could be refilled. The fuel line was probably clogged, too. If he’d had any notion the old Indian would need only a simple fix, that notion was fading fast. This job could take weeks of part-time work.
“What can I do to help?” Mack asked.
“I’ll let you know.” Jake sighed. He understood that the kid needed validation. But he’d hoped for some time to himself to tinker with the bike and to try to figure out the problem.
He needed to figure out something else as well. He and Kira had been playing games long enough. Their damn-fool kiss, run and act-like-nothing-happened routine was getting old. This morning he had watched her
, studying her lovely, serious face when she focused on her students, the warmth in her dove-gray eyes, and the way her smile deepened a dimple in her cheek. He’d found himself admiring the way her jeans fit her willowy body, and remembering the feel of that body in his arms. And he’d found himself wanting her, so much it hurt.
Kira had asked him to stay—to help with the program, to be here for his daughter and to work on controlling his PTSD.
He’d told her he would think about it. But what he hadn’t told her—because he’d just begun to realize it himself—was that his answer depended on her.
Since the war, he’d settled for fleeting encounters with women he would never see again. Being with Kira made him yearn for something more. Not marriage—that would be asking too much. But something deeper and more lasting than empty nights in strange beds. Maybe even love.
Kira, his daughter and a peaceful place where he could be of value. Was it an illusion, like so many other things in his life—even, as it had turned out, his marriage?
Or was everything he needed just waiting for him, if only he could summon the courage to reach for it?
* * *
By the time Kira’s students had finished the trail walk, rubbed down their horses and put them away with hay and water, the youngsters were tired and hungry. Kira was grateful to see that in their absence Jake had laid the fire, set up everything for the cookout and brought out a comfortable chair for Dusty. Mack appeared to be helping. She’d had second thoughts about giving him the afternoon off, but it must have been a good idea. This evening he was all smiles.
The students were still washing up when Dusty came outside with Paige and the dog. Dusty had brought his guitar, a surprise treat. Not only did he play well, but he had a great repertoire of old-time cowboy songs, which he sang in a gravelly baritone that added to the fun of listening. Kira had avoided asking her grandfather to entertain tonight, fearing it might be too taxing for him. But she was delighted that he felt up to it.
