Wind River Cowboy

by Lindsay McKenna

  Kira gave him a look of thanks. She ran her hand lightly over the dark blue bag, her heart swelling with love for these two men. When Garret was gone, she asked, “Did he threaten to break both your arms if you didn’t get me this bag?”

  Chortling, Harper said, “No, not at all. He just got us in the tack room about four weeks ago and told us what he was going to do for your Christmas gift. So we ordered it online and it was delivered.” Harper looked over at Noah. “He did the wrapping.”

  “This will be a gift that will keep on giving for years to come. It’s a well-built bag. Thanks so much.” Kira choked up as both men’s faces filled with pride. She knew how hard both of them worked. Money never came easy.

  “Hey,” Noah said, “I’ve got some news. Reese and Shay got a call from the Pentagon this morning. Remember, Kira? You said you’d make a call there?”

  “Yes, to General Ward. She runs the black op I worked for. Did she call?”

  “Reese said it was an enlisted woman,” Noah said. He brightened considerably. “She said she had been a Marine sergeant who was a horse trainer before she entered the military. She was a WMD handler in Afghanistan at one time.” He frowned a little. “Said she was wounded in an IED explosion, her dog killed. She lost part of her lower left leg. She’s just now getting out of the hospital after being there for over a year. She’s being given an honorable medical discharge and the general assistant thought we might be interested in hiring her.”

  “Wow,” Kira murmured, “that’s wonderful.”

  “Do you know who she is?” he asked.

  “I can’t say much, Noah, but yes, there were three women WMDs in our group who went into this black ops mission. It could be any of them. Did the general give her name?”

  “Yes.” He dug into the pocket of his dark blue flannel shirt, producing a scribbled note. Unfolding it, he said, “Dair Wilson.” He looked up at her. “Do you know her?”

  Kira smiled. “Oh, yes. Dair is a one-of-a-kind woman, Noah. She’s about your age, single and she’s part Comanche. She comes from a family near Laramie. Her grandmother, a full-blooded Comanche, was a horse trainer of some repute.”

  “When she was in the Marines, what kind of dog was she working with?” he asked, excitement in his tone.

  “Combat dogs.”

  Rubbing his hands together, he then put them in a prayerlike position. “Let her come here, then. I’ve got two horses and I need help working with them. I was so hoping we could find someone with that exact kind of background.”

  Kira smiled. “It would be so great if Reese and Shay are able to hire her.”

  “What’s she like?” Noah asked, leaning forward.

  “She’s a warrior, very focused, with a very dry sense of humor. Of the three dog handlers in our group, she was the quietest. I think it was because of her Indian genes. Her mother runs a kindergarten off the reservation. Her father is white, but Dair never liked to talk about him. She listens a lot and says very little.”

  “A good horse trainer is all of those things.” Relief was in Noah’s voice. “Reese said Dair would be traveling here to our ranch in a couple of days.” He gestured toward the window. “That is if we get a break from all this snow.”

  “Supposed to clear up for about five days,” Garret told him. “Why don’t you two go enjoy your day off?”

  Noah and Harper got the hint and finished their coffee and left. The kitchen grew quiet. Garret leaned his elbows on the table, studying Kira. “Okay, what’s the scoop on this woman? I saw you pulling your punches with Noah. What didn’t you tell him?”

  Kira zipped up the Lowepro and set it in the wooden seat next to her. “When we went through the one-year training course with Special Forces, there was a lot of trouble at her mom’s home. Her mother divorced her father when Dair was ten.” Her mouth tightened. “Her father abused both of them, Garret.”

  “Not good.”

  “Yeah. It was pretty bad. Her father went after Dair out in the garden. He broke one of two bones in her lower right arm. Her mother flew into a rage, kicked her husband out of the house and filed charges against him. She put him in prison and divorced him. Pretty awful, if you ask me.”

  Rubbing his face savagely, Garret snarled, “Men like that should be castrated as far as I’m concerned. They have no place on this earth.”

  “Dair’s mother was an abused wife. But she finally fought back when he broke Dair’s arm.” Taking a deep breath, Kira said sadly, “Dair turned to animals for solace. Those she could trust. But she doesn’t trust men at all. I wasn’t sure she’d make it on the mission, but she was fine working with the guys because she had a dog between her and them.”

  “The dog kind of a safety net for her?” Garret mused.

  “I think so.” She frowned. “Gosh, I don’t know if Dair will want to work with Noah or not. He’s a man.”

  “Maybe she’s changed since you last saw her. Matured a little more.”

  Shrugging, she said, “I don’t know. Last time I saw her was four years ago. She was still the same then. We were sent to different black ops groups and lost touch with each other, for the most part.”

  He reached over, smoothing his hand down her arm. “Look at it this way: Noah’s the type of man who’s good at handling trouble of any kind. If he can make Poncho stop kicking people, he’s got the tools and awareness Dair might need.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Kira murmured worriedly. “Dair’s distrust of men is pretty strong. But maybe you’re right; maybe she’s changed.”

  “And she was wounded,” Garret reminded her. He gave her a sad look. “We both know how a major experience in combat has affected us. It changes everyone, maybe even her. She’s an amputee now, and I’m sure that has also altered her worldview plenty.”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “If she hasn’t come to terms with her distrust of men, I don’t think Dair will agree to work with Noah.”

  “Time will tell,” he said. “Hey,” Garret called softly, standing, “do you feel like taking a drive with your new camera? Maybe try it out on some nice late-morning landscape shots?”

  She perked up and smiled. “I’d love to do that!” She quickly stood and grabbed her Lowepro.

  * * *

  Garret felt wave after wave of fierce love for Kira as they stood at a low wooden fence on Moose Road, outside of Jackson Hole. The sun was still in the east and she’d found some moose ambling across the road. Being able to use the D7 on the monopod had been the perfect fix for the weak fingers.

  She was making happy sounds only he could hear as he stood nearby, watching the two bull moose with wide sets of antlers graze alongside the asphalt road where the snow had little accumulation. The animals were eating willow branches. Their huge, funny-looking heads, dark brown eyes and floppy ears made them look like clowns to him. To Kira, they were absolutely beautiful, each with that ten-foot spread of antlers. Never mind they were seven feet tall at the shoulder and weighed twenty-five hundred pounds.

  After a few shots, she would stop, press another button and look at what she’d photographed. And then she’d excitedly show Garret. He would never get over her bubbling joy, the shining look in her eyes. Her red knit cap was slightly askew, her black hair escaping around her, giving her the look more of a child at play than the serious, hardworking adult he knew her to be.

  As he continued to look around—his black ops training would always be with him-—the pasture on the other side of the fence was pristine white, covered with three feet of snow. The sunlight glanced off it, the flakes, tossed into the air by an inconsistent breeze, shining like thousands of scattering diamonds. Kira’s cheeks were flushed a deep pink and he leaned over, brushing a kiss on one of them. He saw her eyes widen with nothing but love for him. It made him feel so damned good.

  As he stood there enjoying the brisk morning, watching Kira give her camera a good workout and listening to the low, excited comments she made as she shot, he smiled. How far they’d come. And, in a flu
ke he’d never expected, Kira had walked back into his life. What were the odds? Garret knew she still chaffed and worried about their mutual PTSD symptoms, but they had Taylor and Libby helping them cope. And they had each other. Love might not cure PTSD, but it sure as hell set it in the corner and made it behave. His mouth drew into a grin, thinking about it. There was nothing like good sex and orgasms to relieve the constant anxiety of PTSD. Endorphins, those happy hormones that made people feel good, were released during sex and helped diminish stress. More sex was a good solution in his book. And judging by Kira’s eager appetite, she was not only sensual as hell but sexual as well, enjoying their time in each other’s arms as much as he did. Life didn’t get any better than it did right now.

  “Okay,” Kira said, turning, the monopod in her gloved hand, “I’m done.”

  “Think you got some good shots?” he asked, taking the camera from her and carrying it to the truck.

  She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her parka. “Yes. I’m so excited, Garret!”

  He slid his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to him, giving her a squeeze. “I’m excited for you. I know those photos will be great. And I’m sure when you post them to that stock photo website, people will buy them.”

  She gave him a warm look. “You’re such a cheerleader, Fleming.”

  He chuckled and opened the door to the truck for her. “That’s my nature, Ms. Duval. Hop in. I’m taking you to town. We’ll celebrate with lunch and a cup of hot chocolate at Kassie’s Café.”

  “Oh, that sounds great!”

  * * *

  “Garret? What do you think Ray Crawford is going to do?” Kira asked, her hands around a large pink mug of hot chocolate. They sat in a booth near the window of Kassie’s Café, watching the main square. At this time of year only tourists who wanted to ski came to Jackson Hole. Most drove through Wind River Valley, stopping for gas and maybe something to eat and were off again, with fifty miles to go to the major tourist city. There weren’t many people out and about on a sunny, cold day.

  He frowned and sipped the rich chocolate. Wiping the whipped cream off his upper lip, he said, “Right now Ray is adjusting. He’s got his first PT tomorrow and I’m taking him to it. I’ll find out more about his mood then, but I’m sure he’s angry about being tossed off the ranch.”

  Kira picked up the juicy hamburger she’d ordered earlier. The café was busy because it was one of the favorite places for locals. “Your father is an alcoholic. What do you think Ray will do?”

  Shrugging, he picked up a French fry from his plate, which also had a huge hamburger on it. “He made it clear the day of the intervention that he wanted the Bar C back. I’m sure he’s going to work damned hard to get his body into shape from that stroke. He’s only forty-nine, and before the stroke, I heard he was a lean, tough hombre, physically fit and capable of doing all the ranch work himself.”

  “But with his drinking? And the stroke has affected his memory. Do you think he’ll achieve all that again?”

  “I don’t know. It was clear to me he was going to try to take the ranch away from Reese and Shay, legally speaking. He’s got a lot of money stashed away and can hire a good lawyer and hit them with a lawsuit.”

  She scowled. “That isn’t right.”

  “Depends upon who’s looking at the situation, sweetheart. From Ray’s perspective, he lost his ranch due to a stroke. If he can come back and show the court he’s mentally capable of once more running his ranch, that will be the crux of the legal case. Ray has to find a lawyer who can show the court and a jury that he’s mentally and physically fit once more.”

  “But that will is a contract of sorts,” Kira objected.

  “Yes,” he said patiently, “it is. But what if Ray introduces Shay’s PTSD and the fact that she’s got anxiety? That could be seen as a mental incapacity, too. To a jury, and with the right lawyer, she could be painted as unstable and unable to run a ranch because she can’t take the stress of the demands placed on her.”

  Groaning, Kira gave him a panicked look. “I never thought about that.”

  Grimacing, he growled, “Think like a lawyer and you will, Kira. It’s a dicey situation and I have no idea what will happen next. Ray is a loose cannon in their lives.”

  “And in ours, too.”

  “Yes. Because if the law allows him back on the ranch, I won’t stay. I won’t work under that bastard.”

  Wrinkling her nose, she said, “I wouldn’t either.”

  “If such a thing did happen,” he said, reaching out and squeezing her hand, “it would take years. Things are backed up in courts for one, two or three years into the future. Reese is very aware of the situation, Kira. He’s a guard dog for Shay and he’s already making business decisions that show she’s competently running the ranch. They’re still in the red, but give them another year with that indoor arena in place and they’ll be in the black. Plus, Noah’s training business is starting to bring in some serious money. Harper is going to college presently, taking paramedic courses. And he’s planning on going to the fire department or the local hospital to get a job after he graduates. It’s all future money that will help the ranch stabilize. Things aren’t lost, so stop looking like they are.” He smiled a little.

  “Okay,” she muttered. “That means I really have to amp up my translation business, plus get more photos sold on that stock website.”

  “You will,” he said. “And for now? Let all that go. You concentrate on you. And me. And us.”

  * * *

  Garret saw Kira in the living room, taking the ornaments off their Christmas tree. It was December 31, New Year’s Eve, and they had decided it was time to take the tree down. Outside the picture window, once more snowflakes were lazily falling out of the low, gray clouds across the valley. Kira was in a pair of black wool slacks, wearing a pink, long-sleeved blouse with a bright red sweater vest over it. With her black hair and the flush to her cheeks, she looked beautiful to him. He’d just finished making them lunch and their afternoon job was to remove all the decorations.

  Kira looked up from placing the construction paper ornaments she’d made in a special cardboard box she’d set on the coffee table. “Who just called?” she asked.

  “Oh, that was Shay. She’s calling everyone to let us know that Dair Wilson is going to be arriving by pickup truck on January 2.”

  Straightening, Kira said, “That’s wonderful. I can hardly wait to see her again. I wonder if she knows I’m here.”

  “Probably she does would be my guess.” He came and stood next to her, looking at the tree. “You’re making fast progress here.”

  “I hate taking it down,” she admitted. “I love Christmas, the lights, the colors. It’s all so beautiful.” Slipping her arm around his waist, she leaned into him as he curved his arm around her shoulders.

  “That’s because you’re an artist,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “You see beauty in everything, Kira.” Garret eased her back just enough to catch her gaze. “And that’s one of the many, many things I love about you. You see the good in life, not the bad.”

  “And I photograph the good so it will lift people’s spirits when they see one of my photos.”

  “Hmmm,” he said, tilting his head, looking critically at the tree. “Did you miss something under the tree?”

  Frowning, she looked. “There aren’t any more gifts under the tree, Garret.”

  “Sure?”

  Kira gave him a quizzical look. “What are you up to?”

  A corner of his mouth lifted slightly. He pointed beneath the branches. “I think you missed one present, sweetheart. Take a look. Behind the trunk, maybe?” He saw amusement in her expression as she pulled out of his embrace.

  “What have you done now, Fleming?” she muttered, walking over to the tree. She crouched down.

  “Nothing,” he said innocently, going to the couch and sitting down, watching her get on her hands and knees to look toward the rear of the tree. Satisfa
ction moved through him.

  “This had better be good,” she grumbled, sliding in beneath the lowest boughs of the tree, straining to reach a small package in the corner.

  “Oh,” Garret said, “I think it will be. Once you get it, come here and sit down beside me to open it.”

  Kira grabbed the silver-wrapped present. It was no larger than a cup in size, a square with a big, bright red ribbon on top of it. Kneeling there, she looked at the tag. It said: To the woman I love. Turning, she gave him a tender look. “This is lovely, Garret.”

  “You’re lovely.” He gestured for her to get up and come sit beside him. Her eyes were wide with excitement. Garret enjoyed her excitement, her sensual mouth curving into a careless grin as she walked over to the couch and flopped down beside him.

  “You can’t afford to keep giving me gifts, Garret. You really can’t.”

  He placed his arm around her shoulders, giving her a wicked look. “You should be given a gift every day of your life, Kira. Open it.”

  She tore into it, the paper flying in all directions. When she opened the box, she found it stuffed with more paper. His heart stopped for a moment as he watched her dig into it, her fingers finding the box. As she drew it out, realization dawned on her face, her gaze flying to his as she held up the red velvet box.

  “Garret! You didn’t!” and she gasped as she opened it. Stunned, she looked at the platinum wedding ring set and then up at him. “Oh, Garret!”

  He patiently removed the box from her hand and eased the engagement ring out of the surrounding velvet. “Do you like them?” he asked, his voice deep with feeling. He took her left hand, knowing those two last fingers didn’t work, and eased the ring on one of them.

  “T-they’re beautiful!” she choked, tears gathering in her eyes.

  He held her shocked look, the tears making her gray eyes soft diamonds. “This makes it official,” he told her in a low voice, holding her eyes. “I love you, Kira. I want to marry you whenever you want to marry me.”

  Pressing a hand to her lips, she stared down at the one-carat solitaire diamond on her hand. “Oh,” she whispered brokenly. “I never expected this, Garret. I really didn’t.”