Shay pulled out her cell phone and showed off a photo of Reese to her. “He’s a real hero and I know you’ll like him, too.”
“What a good-looking guy,” Tara said sincerely, handing her back the cell phone. “Remember when we were in the fifth grade? We’d go ride horses together at one of our ranches? And we’d wonder what kind of boy we’d fall in love with?”
“Oh, that! Gosh, yes, I remember those fun times. But we were so young, so starry-eyed, and we didn’t really know anything of the world. I remember I wanted a Sir Galahad kind of boy and you wanted a King Arthur.”
Giggling, Tara nodded. “We were way too young and knew nothing!”
The waitress came over, they ordered and she poured coffee into thick white ceramic mugs. Picking up the menus, she hurriedly left. The place was packed with lunchtime patrons.
“You said you had PTSD?” Shay asked quietly.
“Yes. When I became a combat camerawoman in that MOS for the Corps, the captain of my unit asked if I wanted to work with special ops. I jumped at it because the Corps is still trying to figure out if women can handle combat or not.”
Snorting, Shay said, “Yeah, I know. They are so Neanderthal. Women handle it as well as any male Marine does. No more, no less.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I couldn’t re-up after going black ops. I’d had enough, emotionally speaking.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine what you saw through your lens,” Shay said, giving her an understanding look. “But let’s talk about something good.”
“I’m more than ready for that.”
“Great, because when Charlie called me, I was at my wit’s end. I’d lain awake half the night, anxious and needing another wrangler. Reese told me not to worry, that the right person would show up.” Her eyes sparkled with humor. “And then Charlie calls to tell us about you.”
Relief trickled through Tara. She gripped the coffee mug a little less frantically between her hands. “He said he thought you needed another wrangler.”
“Yes. And we have two women vet wranglers we’ve already hired, Kira and Dair. They’re doing a great job. They’re just as good as any of the male vets. Let me tell you what we need, Tara, and then you can decide if it’s a fit or not.”
“Sure,” she murmured.
“We need a full-time wrangler. But our vets have to have an outside source of income. For example, Kira is an Arabic translator and earns money doing translations between English and Arabic. Garret is a heavy equipment operator. Harper is presently going to college to become a paramedic and he takes care of our horse barn. We rent horses and stable other people’s horses as well as selling to the public. He’s especially good with our broodmares. Reese, when he first came here, had a CPA and he became the ranch’s accountant. He also took on jobs as an accountant for several businesses here in Wind River. Noah was training horses before he went into the Army. Now, he has a huge training program here, and Dair Wilson helps him by being his assistant trainer. Everyone contributes through their other skill sets. And you put twenty percent of those earnings into the ranch kitty because we don’t charge you rent to stay at one of our homes on the property. We pay the utilities, you don’t. All you supply is food to eat.”
“Gosh, that’s an easy one for me, Shay. I’m a professional photographer. I already have a website up and I sell my pictures to stock photo sites. I make a reasonable amount monthly and I could contribute in that way.”
“Sounds good to me. We’ll pay you an hourly wage as a wrangler. We put ten percent of that into a savings account for you, so you can build equity and someday be able to afford your own home, if you want.”
“I like that idea. But I saved a lot of my monthly paycheck when I was in the Corps. I have my money in the stock market because of my dad and his broker.” She crossed her fingers. “So long as we don’t have another crash like we did in 2008, I’m pretty well off, economically speaking.”
“Which is unlike everyone else who works here, including me and the ranch.”
“I’m using some of it to build the website, plus it costs money to drive to places to take photos. I have to buy new equipment now that the Marine Corps no longer lets me use theirs,” and she smiled.
“We have four homes on the ranch, two bedrooms each. Two are filled with wranglers. The fourth one was where my father lived until we permanently kicked him off the property. We’re in a legal battle with him because he wants to return to that house, saying it’s his. I can’t assign it to you under the circumstances.” She opened her hands. “The only other house available is where Harper Sutton lives. He was a Navy combat medic.”
“It wouldn’t bother me to bunk in with him. We’ll each have our own bedroom, I’m assuming. And we’ll probably share cooking and cleaning duties?”
“Yes, everyone else shares the chores in the home they’re assigned to. You two can work that out between you.”
“What’s Harper like?”
Tara saw Shay’s expression start to glow. “He’s such a sweetie. Being a medic? You know he’s quiet, gentle and gains your trust immediately.”
“Especially if you’re bleeding out,” Tara said, smiling faintly. “Yes, I was with mostly 18 Delta combat medics on the team I was with. They’re the best of the best.”
“They sure are. But you know the medic type?”
“All quiet, like shadows, they speak softly, gain your trust even if you’re hysterical because you know you’re dying.”
“Yep. That’s why Harper is so good with our broodmares and foals. He’s got that special touch of a healer.”
“He sounds nice.”
“He is. But don’t let his Type B appearance fool you,” Shay warned. “He was in black ops, too. He was always in the thick of danger, and you know you have to be a Type A to do that kind of job.”
“No disagreement. The medics I ran with appeared to be Type Bs, but in reality? They were ballbusting Type As beneath that veneer. I suspect Harper is, too?”
“Well,” Shay said, watching their food coming toward them on a tray carried by the waitress, “I’ve yet to see his Type A side, but I know it’s there.”
“If he’s working with broodmares and foals, he can’t show that aggressive side of himself. Horses wouldn’t work with him.”
“Right you are,” Shay agreed. “Here’s our lunch.”
Midway through the meal, Shay turned serious once more. “Why aren’t you working on your parents’ ranch?”
In as few words as she could, Tara told her what she’d told Charlie the day before. She saw Shay’s features turn to understanding once more when she finished her explanation.
“But are Scott and Joanna okay with it?”
Shrugging, Tara offered, “Well, not at first, but the more I explained, the more they accepted my situation. It’s not like I’m leaving town or anything. My mom was happy when I told her that every once in a while I’d drop in for dinner and see how they were; plus, we’ll always have cell phones and emails. And I’ll continue to help fill in for her at the hardware store when she needs me. They’re okay with it now, but you know civilians who haven’t been in combat just can’t understand where we’re at. It’s not their fault. They don’t know.”
“There are days, even now, when I feel like I’m going to tear out of my skin,” Shay admitted between bites of her ham and Swiss cheese sandwich. “Fortunately, Reese does understand.”
“Because he’s a vet who has seen combat, too. So he knows. My parents are trying to understand, but they can only go so far to grasp it.”
“You have to have lived it,” Shay agreed grimly, “to know.”
“Yeah.” Tara sighed.
“I realize you probably don’t want to discuss this, but I have to bring it up. I remember when Cree Elson kidnapped you when you were sixteen.”
Rolling her eyes, Tara said, “Believe me, I’ve never forgotten it. I still get nightmares about that time. About him,” and she shivered.
“I
heard he’s out of prison and working in Jackson Hole doing odd jobs.”
Stomach knotting, Tara said, “My dad told me when I got home.”
“That’s fifty miles away from us. And you know? His mother, Roberta, still lives here, same place, same dumpy trailer on that fifty-acre ranch on the slope of the Salt River Mountains. Remember his three older brothers? Hiram is thirty-one now, Kaen is twenty-nine, Cree is twenty-seven and Elisha is twenty-four. They all live at the southern end of the valley and they’re up to their hocks in drug trade and drug movement. While you were in the service, did your parents keep you updated on the Elson clan?”
Shaking her head, Tara muttered, “I told them I didn’t want to hear anything about that dysfunctional family. I wanted to leave them behind me once I left town.”
“Not much has changed except that your dad sent Hiram and Kaen to prison for three years a piece for drug smuggling. They just got out a couple of years ago, came home and now they’re back doing the same thing. Sheriff Sarah Carter has someone undercover trying to get into their ring to prove they’re at it again. That toxic family has never changed. They’re just as violent and unpredictable as Cree is. Only he never got into selling drugs so much as using them.”
Her hope withered. “One of the reasons I joined the Marine Corps was to get strong and to be able to fight off a man like Elson. I never want to be a wimpy, helpless, freaked-out girl like I was back at that age.”
“I know. I joined the Corps to escape my alcoholic father. You ran away to leave that kidnapping and threat behind you.”
“We both ran,” Tara admitted, frowning.
“Did you know Cree was out?”
“Only after I got home. I was still in my PTSD soup and he wasn’t on my radar at all. I’m having enough trouble trying to appear normal to everyone.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Sarah Carter is the Lincoln County sheriff, and she’s already got the ear of the Teton sheriff’s department commander, Tom Franks, up in Jackson Hole. She knows Cree’s dangerous. Now that he’s been released and served his time for kidnapping you, she keeps an eye on him. Sarah ran for sheriff after her dad retired from that position and the folks of the county happily voted her in.”
“My dad has nothing but praise for Sarah. He says she’s a fine law enforcement officer. Her dad, David, taught her how to be a deputy from the time she was young. She grew up wanting to be one. I was glad to hear she’s the sheriff. Everyone likes her. Well, I’ll amend that: people who obey the law love her. The people who don’t most likely hate her as much as they hated her father. And yes, it makes me feel better. When I got home, one of my worries was knowing Cree was around. That he could try to get even with me.”
“Yes, I remember he told you in court he was going to get even with you for putting him in prison. It’s the Elson twisted gene: They always seek revenge on the person or group who threw them in prison. Nothing’s changed. They’re still that way.”
“That was another reason why I didn’t want to stay at home, put my parents at risk in case Cree was crazy enough to try it again.”
Shay nodded. “Well, don’t worry about that at the Bar C. We’re all vets. We’re all licensed to carry concealed weapons. And we all know how to use a pistol if it comes down to that.”
“What about Harper?”
“Oh, he knows how to use a weapon, no worries. We all carry weapons, but they’re in locked safes in each home when we’re not out on ranch property. There’s a target range on the ranch, and we go out every two weeks to practice.”
“I would die if Cree came onto your property and hurt anyone,” Tara admitted. “Really. I’ve been wondering, because I knew Cree was nearby, if I should just leave Wyoming, disappear and go to another state a long way from here. There’s also his three brothers. I worry about what they might do to us, to my family, if Cree is still obsessed with me or wants revenge.”
Shay gripped her hand. “Don’t you dare run again, Tara. Your family has been here for generations. No one has the right to chase you off with threats. And I feel confident that if he did try? He’d get a very unpleasant greeting when he set foot on the Bar C. The other three brothers are always around, but so far, we haven’t had any run-ins with them. No, I want you to stay and I would love to have you as one of our wranglers. Please say you’ll take the job?”
Chapter Two
April 3
Harper was just closing the door on Candy’s broodmare stall when he saw Shay enter the enclosed area with a woman at her side. He locked the door, turning, his gaze on the stranger. Strong sunlight broke through the clouds across the valley, sending a shaft across the women as they walked down the recently swept concrete aisle toward him.
He liked what he saw, his curiosity piqued.
He took off his leather gloves, stuffing them in the back pocket of his Levi’s. Wearing his thick sheepskin jacket, it kept him warm in the chill of the barn. The woman was a little taller than Shay, wearing a dark blue down jacket, a knit cap of the same color over her long blond hair. It was her oval face, and those big blue eyes, that attracted him. She had to be their age or close to it. What tipped him off that she was possibly a military vet was her walk and the way she had squared her shoulders. There was a lot of confidence in her expression as their gazes briefly met.
“Hey, Harper,” Shay called, smiling as she came up to him, “meet Tara Dalton. Tara? This is Harper Sutton.”
“Hi, Tara,” he said, extending his hand toward her. He noticed her nails were blunt cut. As he slid his hand around her fingers, he felt a callus on her right index finger. That was a potential sign that she used a weapon a lot. He saw her lips, which were lifted into a welcoming smile, curved more as she shook his hand firmly.
“Hi, Mr. Sutton.”
Grimacing, Harper forced himself to release her hand. “Call me Harper.” He watched her pull on her gloves once more. It was about forty degrees in this section of the barn, which was in the center of the building and well protected from the nasty Wyoming weather and temperature.
“Have you got a few minutes, Harper?” Shay asked. “I thought we might all go to your house to talk. I’m hiring Tara to be our badly needed wrangler. I’d like to sit down with both of you for a bit.”
“Sure,” Harper said. His mind clicked along rapidly as he walked with them to the door. Tara looked reliable to him, someone who could be counted on to carry her share of the load. That was a good first impression to have about her. Never mind she was attractive, an outdoorsy type of woman who appealed strongly to him. Silently, Harper warned himself off that track of thinking even though his lower body was stirring with more than a little interest.
Opening the door, he gestured for the two women to walk ahead of him. “Welcome to our family,” he told Tara. He liked the way her thick blond hair curled around her shoulders. The light briefly touched her hair, turning it to colors of wheat, gold and caramel. His fingers itched to touch those glinting strands as the sun’s rays lanced through the windows of the huge arena in front of them. “I’ve got a couple of horses loose in there,” he said to Shay. “I can spend about thirty minutes with you, but I have to get back here to put them away and bring out a couple more to stretch their legs.” He saw Tara frown. “We had rain last night,” he explained to her as they walked around the outside of the arena to the main door. “It turned to ice. If I put the horses out in the paddocks, they could slip on that ice and maybe pull a tendon or break a leg.”
“Not something anyone wants to have happen,” Tara murmured, giving him a pleased look.
“These are renters’ horses,” he added, “so we’re a little more conservative about keeping them safe and out of trouble.”
“Right,” Tara agreed. They halted, waiting for Harper to close the door.
The early afternoon was turning out to be nice, Harper decided. He walked with them up the boardwalk that had already been cleared of snow, salt sprinkled across it so none of the wranglers got h
urt on the ice. He walked behind the women, absorbing the warmth of the sun. Too soon, low-hanging, ragged-looking gray clouds blocked it and the cold wind tugged at Harper’s black felt cowboy hat. He pulled it down a little tighter, his ears freezing as usual. Tara and Shay wore knit caps to keep them warm and he supposed he should, too, but he was married to his Stetson.
“My house,” he told Tara, “is the first one here.”
Tara looked at the house and then the others. “They’re all the same color and size?” she asked Shay.
“Yes, we built them last summer when we raised the arena. Maud and Steve Whitcomb volunteered their wranglers. A lot of other folks from around the valley came, too, and they all helped us not only finish the arena roof but build these four homes.”
“That’s great. Is everyone in Wind River Valley helpful like that?”
“Mostly. We have the Elson clan down at the south end of the valley who are no good, but most folks here in Lincoln County are still the same as when we were young—generous and willing to help others. Thank goodness,” Shay said. She took the wide concrete walk that glinted with melting ice and white pebbles of salt scattered across it.
Harper moved ahead of them and opened the door to the mudroom of his home. As Tara passed him, he caught her scent, part feminine woman and a hint of mint. He wondered if she used a mint shampoo on her hair, smiling to himself at that discovery. Closing the door, he waited until the two women shed their winter gear and hung them on huge wooden pegs along the wall before he put his jacket and hat nearby.
He tried not to be too obvious as he watched Tara. She wore a pair of jeans, hiking boots and a bright red sweater. There was nothing to dislike about her. She was tall, but curvy in all the right places. Her legs were long and sculpted even though her jeans were loose-fitting. Knowing he shouldn’t be salivating like the lone wolf he thought of himself as, he put away the rest of his gear, following the women into the warm kitchen.
“Something smells good,” Tara said, halting, turning and looking at him.
“I made chili earlier this morning,” he said, pointing to the Crock-Pot on the counter.
Lone Rider Page 2
