“I’m not surprised,” Shay said, nodding. “That had to scare the hell out of both of you, a bear suddenly charging you like that.”
Snorting softly, Tara smoothed the dark blue wool fabric across her thigh. “Yes, it did.”
“Are you both having PTSD reactions to it?”
“Yes.” Giving her a sorrowful look, she said, “You know how it is. A sight, a sound, a smell, a crisis or superstress will trigger us in a heartbeat. And then we shake for days, even weeks afterward.”
Reaching out, Shay placed her hand on Tara’s white, long-sleeved silk blouse. “I know.”
“Do you and Reese have that happen, too?”
Shay rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes. For Reese, it’s the smell of gasoline. He was a company commander in Afghanistan, had a hundred and twenty Marines under his command. They had an IED lob over the fort wall and hit the fuel facility. Gasoline exploded everywhere. A number of his Marines died or were badly burned and he never forgave himself. So, when he smells gasoline, that day, those casualties and his burned Marines, slam back into him.”
“Like it does all of us.” She studied Shay, who was dressed in bright orange slacks, wearing a pale peach tee beneath it. “What happens, then?”
“Oh, Reese dives into the flashback. If I’m around when it happens, I sit with him, hold him. That really helps him to come back to the present, not be dragged and trapped in the past.”
“That’s nice,” Tara murmured. “Does it interrupt his sleep, too?”
Smiling softly, Shay said, “Before we got together, he’d wake up screaming. Scared me awake in my bedroom across the hall from his.”
“That’s what’s happening to us right now,” Tara admitted, frowning.
“You have shadows under your eyes and Harper looks exhausted. Garret came over a few days ago, alerting us to your situation. He’s worried for you, too. He knows what it’s like.”
“I hate it. I hate that it tears us apart, Shay. It seems never-ending.”
“But it does improve over time.” She slid her arm around Tara and gave her a quick squeeze and released her. “Just keep your faith. It does get better.”
“That’s what Harper keeps telling me,” she grumped. “There are days I believe him, and then there are days when I lose all hope.”
“That’s because you’re sleep-deprived. You know how your emotions get their knickers in a twist when you’ve lost night after night of sleep. I went through a couple of years of that before it started ramping down. Getting that adaptogen from Taylor really was the first window of hope to open for me. I hated being anxious and feeling threatened twenty-four hours a day. And you’ve just gotten your prescription within the last month or so. It takes time.”
Grimacing, Tara muttered, “I’m impatient. I’ve always been that way, Shay.”
Laughing, she patted Tara’s arm in a motherly fashion. “We’re all Type A’s; there’s no getting around that one.”
Tara felt better. “I’m glad I’m talking to you about this.”
“There’s always a pot of coffee on over at our house, so come over any time you want, Tara. You can’t get through this alone. We’re all here to help one another. Each of us needs support every now and then.” Her eyes sparkled. “Let’s talk about happier things. Is there something sweet going on between you and Harper?”
“Yes and no,” Tara said. “Yes, we have a connection. But it’s stalled because we’re in this cycle of PTSD and we’re no good to ourselves or to each other. It’s just getting through and surviving every day. You know how that is?”
“I do,” Shay said gently, giving her a sad look. “The bear incident triggered both of you big-time, as it would anyone. When something like that happens and you’re a vet who has PTSD, it’s a hundred times worse on us mentally and emotionally. Are you two managing or are you at each other’s throats?”
Tara heard the amusement in Shay’s voice, but she knew the woman wasn’t teasing her. It wasn’t a funny situation. “We avoid that at all costs, Shay. If Harper is having a bad evening, he’ll go down to the tack room in the arena and repair leather until he can work through what he’s dealing with. Or I’ll go into my bedroom, shut the door and work on my stock photo website. We know when we’re getting edgy and just seem to naturally want to protect each other from the worst side of ourselves.”
“That’s as good as it gets. When Reese first came to the Bar C and stayed in our house because we didn’t have wrangler homes built yet, I was really fearful about it. I had my ups and downs, too. But we talked, and that was the single most important decision we made between each other. Talking helped us understand each other’s predicament.”
“Was that after you fell in love with each other?”
Shaking her head, Shay said, “Oh, no. It was like we had this mental telepathy from the moment we met. Our emotions were so raw and on the surface anyway that we picked up on the slightest emotional or mental change in each other. We started doing it right after he took that room in our home.”
“Harper and I seem to have that connection, too,” she said, wonder in her voice.
Lips lifting, Shay said, “Well, I’m not surprised. We saw the way Harper looked at you during the barn dance at Red Tail Ranch.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told Reese the other day that I thought Harper was falling in love with you, Tara.”
Staring at Shay, she gulped.
“Don’t you see it?” and Shay tilted her head, smiling.
“No,” Tara said abruptly. “I mean, I’ve kissed him. I’ve enjoyed it. But I’m scared, Shay. And I told him that.”
“Scared of what?”
“That I’m very unsure of two PTSD vets sharing anything but hell on earth, violent ups and downs of emotion, sleepless nights, flashbacks … it’s a never-ending cycle,” and her voice dropped off into an aching whisper. “There’s no such thing as normal anymore, not for either of us.”
“Listen,” Shay said, becoming more reassuring, “love transcends even PTSD, Tara. At least if you both have the same symptoms, you know what to do to avoid hurting the other person. Or if they’re having a bad day, you know how to support them and understand what’s really going on inside them to a degree. Those aren’t minuses in my book, those are plusses.”
“You know Harper lost Olivia, his wife, to his PTSD?”
“Oh,” Shay growled, “that bitch.”
Brows raising, Tara sat up and stared at Shay. She wasn’t one to use curse words at all, so it startled Tara. “Shay, that’s not like you. I’ve never heard you call another woman that.”
She saw anger coming to Shay’s blue eyes. Her small hands fisted in her lap.
“And I’ll just bet Harper has told you his failed marriage was all his fault, because of his PTSD? That Olivia was an angel?”
“Well … something like that. You’re really upset. Why?”
“Harper is the kind of guy who, if he can’t say something good about someone, he won’t say anything at all. He glosses over others’ eccentricities and mistakes and takes on the burden himself.”
“Well,” Tara said, “he was a combat medic. He’s got that kind of nature: gentle and caring. I think I’ve heard two curse words out of him in the months I’ve been living with him.”
Pushing her fingers through her short hair, Shay muttered, “All of that’s true and I know Harper is going to make a wonderful paramedic after he graduates next year. We’re going to be very lucky to have someone like him here in the valley. But Olivia?” She blew air between her lips, her brows dipping. “She was a spoiled little rich girl, Tara. She fell in love with Harper when he was on leave between deployments. Her parents said he was beneath her socially and economically, that he was only a sailor. But she married him anyway, I think, for spite against her parents trying to control her because she had just turned eighteen. She never really loved Harper. He was a victim of her manipulations in her war with her parents.”
Tara�
�s throat tightened and she whispered, “Tell me. It’s important, Shay. Please? He paints a picture of her as being the one who was hurt in that marriage because of his PTSD.”
“You need to talk about this with Harper. I’m not going to tell what I know. This has to be between you and him. If he cares for you as much as I think he does, he’s going to tell you the truth. All of the truth. He tends to shoulder the blame, even if it’s not his to take on. That’s all I’ll say. Olivia wounded him severely. He was already wounded by so many deployments. But she cut out his heart.”
Pain drifted through her chest. The trembling in Shay’s voice told her the rage the other woman held against Harper’s ex-wife was genuine. “Okay … I’ll do that. When there’s a time that’s good for both of us.”
Shay gave her a wry look. “Timing is everything. You and Harper have gone through a lot together in an intense, short amount of time. Catch him on an up day, Tara. And you be up, too. Okay?”
Nodding, Tara reached out, squeezing Shay’s hand. “Yes … I will. He’s important to me. Every day, I discover something new about him that I like.”
“You’re falling in love with him whether you want to admit it or not,” Shay said in a low tone, gripping her hand, holding her gaze. “I know you’re not ready to go there yet, Tara. But you two are good for each other. And I understand the hurdles between you. Reese and I had them, too. And as a matter of fact, Garret and Kira had their hurdles to scale before they could reach out and love each other. So have Noah and Dair. It’s going to take time. Just be patient with yourself and with Harper.”
May 31
“I love the idea of a picnic lunch out in this pasture,” Tara told Harper.
It was Memorial Day, and that was a special day for all of them at the Bar C. They had attended services as a group at the local church that morning and said prayers for the military fallen and their families. They had then gone to the local cemetery, which had a section for veterans. They laid flowers on the graves and said a prayer for all those who had been laid to rest. All of them had been in combat, so they understood how precious life was and how quickly it could be taken away.
The temperature was in the midseventies, a rarity, with the sun shining brightly, a few puffy white clouds drifting across the valley from west to east. Tara saw Harper’s eyes grow warm as he brought over the leather saddlebags carrying their lunch. He knelt in front of her, opening them up next to the small green-and-blue-plaid wool blanket Tara had laid out.
The horses had their bridles removed, the halters on with lead ropes wrapped around the saddle horns, so they were able to eat their fill after Harper had placed hobbles around their front pasterns. Both animals would willingly graze the thick, rich green grass along the slope beneath the grove of pines.
“Our first picnic of the year,” Harper agreed, handing her the plastic boxes containing the food. He set the thermos of coffee down near his knee. “We were trying to picnic during that Prater Canyon hike, but that didn’t work out so well,” and he smiled a little.
“Have you been looking around for grizzlies?” she asked, amusement in her tone as she opened two of the plastic boxes, each containing a turkey and cheddar cheese sandwich. She poured hot coffee into two plastic cups, setting them nearby. Harper stood and removed his chaps, hanging them over Ghost’s saddle. They’d been repairing fence posts after returning to the ranch. It had been his idea to spend an hour together at the pine grove in one of the largest lease pastures.
Harper removed his Stetson, set it on the corner of the wool blanket, and then sat down, crossing his legs, facing her. “I have been watching for bear,” he admitted ruefully. “The horses aren’t spooked or wary. They’re our initial warning.” He gestured to the slope. “And we’d see one coming a mile away. The horses would hear him first, though.”
Glancing over at Socks and Ghost, Tara smiled as she handed him his sandwich. “Right now, our horse friends are oblivious to their surroundings. They’ve gone to horsey heaven in this nearly knee-high green grass. I’ve always marveled at how thick and lush our valley grass was in the spring and summer. It’s amazing. It grows so fast.”
Harper munched contentedly on his sandwich, his elbows resting on his knees. “That’s why grass leases are something Shay and Reese want to be able to give out to cattlemen. This grass is rich with all kinds of nutrients. Cattle fatten up fast on it.”
“Shay told me at one time, before her alcoholic father let the Bar C fall into this state, he was one of the richest ranchers, with the exception of Maud and Steve Whitcomb, here in the valley. Grass leases are a huge moneymaker for any rancher if they’ve got the acreage.”
“There’s a lot of land with this ranch,” Harper agreed, giving the surrounding area an appreciative look. “I know Reese is looking to get all the lease pastures back up and operational by next year. This year, it’s strictly fence-mending time. Shay’s father let this place fall into shambles. It’s a shame really.”
“Alcoholism not only destroys the person who drinks, it also destroys his or her job and the family as well.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, biting into his sandwich. “Shay and Reese have had a really tough time bringing the Bar C back. Have you heard anything else from your dad about Crawford suing the ranch?”
“Not yet. But it’s coming. Shay said something about it the other day. Ray is putting in papers with the Clerk of Courts pretty soon, I guess.”
“They don’t need this. The old man, if he gets this ranch returned to him for legal reasons, will end up destroying it completely. Garret was telling me that Crawford ran off all his wranglers and his foreman, he was such a mean son of a bitch to them when he was drunk.”
She munched on her sandwich, seeing how relaxed Harper was. This was a perfect day. “And he’ll do it again if he manages to take this to court and in front of a jury. I’m just hoping that when that day comes, he’ll be his old, nasty self.”
“Yeah,” Harper said, grimacing, “him showing up drunk at court. That would do it.”
“He’s crafty, from what Noah told me when we talked about Ray one time. He’s sneaky, manipulative and abusive. After he told me what kind of man he was, I felt so sorry for Shay. I never realized until that time what she’d gone through growing up with him. I can’t even imagine it. I count myself lucky to have two great parents who loved me and didn’t abuse me like Shay was abused.”
“Me too,” Harper said. “We’re the lucky ones.”
“Did you ever have a dream of what your marriage partner would be like once you met her?” Tara asked him. “I mean,” and she laughed a little, wondering if this was the right tact to take with Harper about Olivia, “I always dreamed of finding a man like my father. Did you dream of a wife something like your mom?”
Shrugging, Harper finished off the sandwich and picked up his plastic mug of steaming hot coffee. “I guess I never really thought about my life that way. I was more focused on what I wanted to be, that I wanted to go into the military and serve.” He gave her a wry look. “Marriage wasn’t on my radar, but it happened.”
“You never dreamed of the kind of woman you wanted to marry?” She found that hard to believe, knowing she sure had dreams of the man she’d like to marry someday, if the right one came along.
“Don’t you think it’s more a woman thing?” he teased, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.
“Probably,” Tara groused, an unwilling grin pulling at her lips. “But did Olivia fulfill your idea of a wife?” She knew she was on thin ice with Harper, but he was in a good space today and so was she. He gave her an amiable look.
“She was eighteen, a wild child, rebellious, and I was twenty-one when I met her by accident in San Diego. I was between deployments, on my thirty days of leave, soaking up the Southern California sun and being a beach bum. She looked damned good to me in that little black bikini she wore when a bunch of us played volleyball on the beach.”
“Tell me more,” Tara urged, realizing Harp
er had reached a point with her of deeper trust. That alone made her heart yearn even more for this kind of personal, intimate exchange.
“Not much to tell. She had one hell of a body, was beautiful, willful; what guy could resist her?”
“Did she come on to you or did you chase her?”
“She chased me, but I let her catch me.”
She saw some sadness in his thoughtful-looking gray eyes as he continued to sip the coffee. “You said she was a wild child. What did that mean?”
“Her parents were very, very rich. Owned a palatial estate in La Jolla. Father was a movie producer, big name, and he had a lot of power. Her mother had been a Hollywood actress until he married her. Olivia was the result.” He straightened and pulled over the thermos, pouring himself more coffee and filling her mug up to the brim while he was at it. “Olivia was wild to get out from beneath her parents’ control would probably be the best way to put it. She had just turned eighteen and was now an adult. Her big gripe was that they could no longer tell her what to do. She had a really nice apartment facing the beach on the main street and invited me over for a party she was having that evening.”
“That was probably quite a party,” Tara said.
“Well, it was interesting,” Harper said. “Most of her friends were other Hollywood teens like her. They were wild and rowdy. I felt like the old man in that group.”
“Drugs?”
He grimaced. “Didn’t see any, but they all acted like they were on something. That comes from being a combat medic and recognizing it in some of the guys I had to treat from time to time.”
“Was Olivia a drug addict?”
He squirmed. “She didn’t behave like one,” he muttered. “But later? Yeah, she liked cocaine. I didn’t realize it until after we were married about three months. She was enamored with military guys. And I fell for her because I was nose-diving into PTSD, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. I wanted something fresh, clean, upbeat and positive. Olivia was all those things to me. Looking back on it? I shouldn’t have married her. She was too young and immature and I was a grown-up who had seen too much. We did share a love of the beach, surfboarding and the water.”
Lone Rider Page 16
