Rancher and Protector

by Pamela Britton

“No.” His eyes searched hers, as if he wanted to ask her something else, but wasn’t quite sure how to pose the question.

  “And now it’s my turn,” she said, echoing his words from earlier. “How did your family die?”

  It was a horrible thing to ask. Invasive. Rude. And way too personal, and yet she had to know.

  But he wasn’t going to answer. His expression had turned to stone, his eyes to slate.

  “Ask your next question,” he muttered.

  The trees were starting to thin out. In between them, Amber spotting what looked to be apartment buildings or maybe homes. And was that the roar of the ocean in the distance? Or was that a freeway?

  The path they were riding, shielded by trees and lined by shrubs, was beautiful.

  “Was it an accident?”

  He pulled up his horse again. “It’s none of your business.”

  It wasn’t. She knew that. “You asked me about my nephew. That was none of your business, but I answered.”

  “That’s different.”

  She spotted something big and red to her left and stiffened. “Look!”

  He didn’t move.

  “Over there,” she added, “through the trees. It’s the Golden Gate Bridge!”

  She pushed her horse forward, proud of herself for making Flash walk past Colt’s horse. Sure enough, the trees opened up farther ahead and a small clearing afforded her a more direct view of the bridge. It was in the distance, but not so far away that she couldn’t hear the sound of cars traveling over it—that was the noise she’d heard.

  “Check it out,” she said when Colt came up beside her. “Isn’t that amazing? We’re so far away, and yet you can hear the cars.”

  “Neat.”

  He said it so harshly, she asked, “What is the matter with you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Look, I know it was none of my business to ask about your family, but I thought it might help to talk about it. I’m a therapist. It’s what I do. Push people to their limits.”

  “You’re a speech pathologist,” he said.

  “Ooh, you’ve been paying attention,” she teased, trying to draw a smile out of him.

  “And I’m a cowboy,” he said. “Me and therapists don’t mix.”

  “That’s not what it felt like the other day. Or should we both go back to ignoring the elephant in the room?”

  “I’d rather ride.” He kicked his horse forward and whistled for Mac.

  “We can’t ignore what’s between us,” she called out. As she’d sat there, watching him try to hide how he felt, something inside her had clicked. It all made sense. This was why she was attracted to him. What it was that drew her attention.

  They were alike.

  She’d lost everyone near and dear to her, too.

  Well, except for Dee. But her loss was still a fresh wound. She missed her sister terribly. They’d been everything to each other since their parents died in a commuter train accident years and years ago. They’d spent their early lives in and out of foster homes, and it had been terrible. Amber was a therapist because of that, too. She’d seen the effect having no family could have on children, the speech impediments it could cause. So she’d put herself through college. A year after she’d graduated, her sister had died and Logan had gone to prison. She’d been caring for her eight-year-old nephew ever since. For four years now…

  She shook her head.

  Colt missed his family. She missed her sister.

  They weren’t much different, after all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Colt and Mac kept ahead of Amber for the rest of the ride—close enough to keep an eye on her, far enough away that she couldn’t ask any more probing questions.

  Such as how his family had died.

  That he wouldn’t think about. Didn’t ever want to think about.

  It hurt too damn much.

  The trail circled through the trees, and he pulled up when he spied an even better view of the bridge.

  “It’s so pretty,” she called out.

  It was. As golden as the name implied.

  The sun had dipped even lower, making it feel like dusk in the forest. So when they emerged from the trees, it was almost a shock to see the sun still above them.

  “How’d that happen?” Colt heard Amber call. “We’re almost right back where we started.”

  He took off his hat, tilted his head back and absorbed the sun on his face. It felt good. He wished he could sit here all day. But there was too much to do. And Amber…

  She wouldn’t leave him alone.

  When they got to the barn, Colt jumped down. “Use the mounting block to dismount,” he ordered.

  “Oh,” she said. “You can speak.”

  He grabbed Oreo’s halter, made quick work of slipping off his bridle and sliding the nylon harness on.

  “Holy moly!” Amber cried.

  He jerked around.

  She was already off her horse. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for days.”

  “Damn it, Amber. I thought you’d fallen off.”

  “Surprisingly, no,” she said with a smile. “Apparently Flash doesn’t mind standing still while someone gets off.”

  Colt went back to work.

  You’re being an ass.

  He was. He knew it. But he just wanted to get this over with. To get the horses unsaddled and Amber up to the lodge. That way he could have some privacy. Some time to figure out what the hell was wrong with him, because despite narrowing down where her nephew lived, Colt felt no elation.

  “Can I help you take the saddle off?” she asked, after tying Flash.

  “No.”

  When he glanced over at her as he pulled the saddle off Oreo’s back, he saw the hurt in her eyes.

  “I’ll go hang up the bridle,” she said.

  “No need.” He held out his free hand. “I’ll take it.”

  “Colt…”

  He grabbed the bridle from her even as he chastised himself for being so harsh. “See you up at the house.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  He didn’t hang around to see if she had gone or not. After he tossed the heavy saddle on the rack, he rested his palms on the seat. Mac whined, his head tipped to the side, ears pricked.

  “Crap,” Colt muttered.

  He had to get hold of himself. He’d scored a major victory in finding Logan’s son. He knew where Rudy was.

  How did your family die?

  Colt closed his eyes as he thought back to that day, to the site of the accident…the broken railing. The branches near the base of the hill. The gouges in the asphalt.

  “Colt.”

  Pulled from his memories, he straightened with a jerk, and spun around, planning to lash out at Amber. But he didn’t have the heart. It wasn’t her fault his memories caused so much pain.

  He hadn’t had a heart since his teens.

  “What happened to you?” she asked gently.

  He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He drew a breath, then another. “I thought you went back to the lodge.”

  “I couldn’t leave you like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Upset.”

  “I’m not upset,” he lied.

  She took a step closer. “This is about your parents, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t you have something to do?” he asked, tempted to leave.

  But she’d already closed the distance between them. Already lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “I’ve taken far too many psychology classes not to know when someone’s lying.”

  Did she know his whole existence was a lie? That he had no business being here? That the day his parents and his little sister had died, he should have been with them?

  “Colt,” she said. “You shouldn’t keep this bottled inside. It’s eating you up.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” he snapped. “Nothing at all.”

  “I don’t,” she agreed. “Despite what’s happened between us, I don
’t know hardly anything about you.”

  Her eyes drew him in. He swore they could swallow his pain. How lucky the children were who had her on their side. How lucky Rudy was.

  “Maybe it’s better that way,” he said, backing away.

  But she followed him. “Keeping things inside is never better for you,” she said softly.

  She moved around him and somehow wedged herself between the saddle on the rack and his body.

  “Sometimes, Colt,” she said, her blue eyes as big as the compassion in her heart, “you need to let things out before life can get better.”

  He wanted to turn away. But her eyes held him.

  For the first time ever, he found himself on the verge of making a confession. Of telling her what had happened all those years ago.

  But he didn’t deserve her pity…or her compassion.

  “I need to go,” he said, brushing past her.

  This time she didn’t follow him.

  SHE DIDN’T SEE HIM for the rest of the day. Not at breakfast, either. It was Monday, and today would be the first time the children would actually ride the horses. A crowd of about twenty or so volunteers, physical therapists and interns—like herself—headed toward the barn.

  “I’m freezing,” Melissa said with an audible shudder.

  “Me, too,” Amber said, trying to spot Colt. He must be in the barn.

  “Is the sun ever out in the morning here?” her friend asked.

  It had dawned another foggy and overcast day, but the humidity made it seem particularly cold. “I don’t know.” Amber tried to draw further into her jacket, like a turtle.

  Buck came out of the barn leading a horse, but so far no Colt. And no Mac, either.

  Where were they?

  She needed to apologize. To tell Colt she was sorry for pushing. She’d been born too pushy, and that was what made her a damn good speech therapist. She didn’t give up. Didn’t mind the repetition. She pushed her patients to get it right. Colt wasn’t a patient.

  “Okay, here’s how it’ll work,” Jarrod said. “We’ll break into four teams, each led by a hippotherapist. That means Jackie, Sam and Sarah will be in charge. Whatever they tell you guys to do, you do it. I’ll run the other team.”

  “Who died and made him king of the universe?” Melissa said in an aside.

  Amber smiled. “I think the horse-therapist experts need to take control at this point, don’t you?”

  She tried to avoid the man whenever possible, but the few times she’d bumped into Jarrod at the lodge he’d seemed just as bossy and, frankly, annoying. He’d asked her out last week. She’d said no. Amber hoped that would be the end of it.

  “Melissa and Amber, you’ll be on my team,” he said.

  “Oh, great,” Melissa muttered.

  “We’ll need a fourth,” Jarrod announced. “Any volunteers?”

  An older woman with thick-framed glasses lifted her hand. Maybe Jarrod wouldn’t hit on someone clearly over forty.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Jackie, Sam and Sarah, you want to pick your teams?”

  Melissa stepped closer. “Is it just me, or is Jarrod really, really annoying?”

  Drops of moisture were clinging to her friend’s dark hair. Amber had no doubt the humidity was doing the same to hers. “Really, really, really annoying.” She looked past her, to see Colt leading a horse out of the barn, Mac following behind. But the cowboy didn’t look up.

  Something inside Amber withered.

  “The children are on their way down,” Jarrod called out. “Let’s get it together, guys. My team will go first. Any idea when you’ll get the rest of the horses saddled?” Jarrod asked Colt, his tone on the verge of rude.

  “They’re tacked up in their stalls,” Colt said. “Just let me know when you need the next one.”

  Hah, Amber wanted to say.

  “Amber!” someone called. “Can I speak to you?”

  She turned, startled to find Gil escorting the three children they’d be working with. Wait a minute… three? “Where’s Dee?”

  “He didn’t want to leave his room,” Gil explained. “We tried everything. We were thinking of just leaving him be. He could work with one of the physical therapists today, and then later, with you for speech, if that’s okay.”

  Amber glanced to where Mac stood beside the horse.

  “Actually,” she mused, “I have an idea.”

  She turned back to her boss. Did he have an endless supply of polyester suits? He looked out of place among everyone else in their jeans and thick jackets. “I’d like to try a little experiment with Colt’s dog.”

  A frown creased Gil’s forehead above his glasses. “How so?”

  “I think Camp Cowboy’s focus should be expanded.” When his expression grew even more puzzled, she added, “I think we should use all types of animals for therapy.”

  His eyes widened. “Colt’s dog?”

  “If Colt doesn’t mind. I’m curious if my neph—” She caught herself. “If Dee will respond to Colt’s dog. Honestly, it’s been tough to get Dee to look at a horse. Mac, however—”

  Gil had begun to nod. “Hmm. It’s not something we ever considered.”

  “It’s worth a shot,” she said. “You can’t tell me every child responds to horses.”

  “They don’t,” the program director agreed. “And it’s always a disappointment. Colt?” Gil called when he came back out, leading a second horse. “We have a proposition for you.”

  Amber noticed that the moisture had turned Colt’s black hat even darker.

  “What’s up?” He still wouldn’t look at her.

  “Amber here would like to borrow your dog, if that’s okay.”

  Finally, their gazes connected. “What for?”

  She pasted a smile on her face. It killed her to see him like this. Obviously, he was upset about yesterday. “I’d like to introduce him to the other children.”

  Colt glanced at Mac, then back at her. “I don’t mind.”

  Gil clapped him on the upper arm. “Excellent. I suspect Amber might be on to something, especially after how Dee responded to the dog earlier.” Her boss met her gaze. “But are you certain you don’t want to wait until later? When you’re done working with the children and horses?”

  “I have weeks to work with the horses, Gil.” Amber smiled. “Mac!”

  The dog instantly turned. Amber decided she wanted a pet just like him one day. She loved the way Mac came running, tailless rear end wagging, tongue lolling, eyes shining. She wished his owner would be as happy to see her.

  “Come on, Mac,” she said. “Let’s go up to the lodge.”

  She wondered if he’d follow her or if he’d want to stay with his master, but the canine didn’t hesitate.

  “Thanks, Colt,” Amber said.

  He held her gaze for a split second longer than before. “You’re welcome.”

  And off she went, with Mac at her side. That gave her some comfort. At least his dog liked her.

  And Mac loved children.

  That became obvious the moment she hit the children’s wing and found Eric standing in the long hallway there. He must have been on his way to one of his therapy sessions but paused in delight when he spotted her canine companion. Mac seemed just as happy to see Eric as he was every other child on the floor. They soon attracted a crowd of children. Nancy, the head nurse, tried to keep things under control. But it was a challenge. Amber squatted down at Mac’s level, trying to shield him from small probing hands. You never knew what a special needs child might do. Some were like Dee, autistic and uncommunicative. Some had minds that just didn’t work right, symptomatic of causes as varied as Down, fetal alcohol or genetic syndromes.

  “Okay, guys,” Amber called at last. “Time for us to go.”

  There were choruses of “Aww,” from kids and adults alike. Amber smiled.

  Yup. A dog was just what this place needed.

  She straightened and headed toward Dee’s room.

  “Knock,
knock,” she said.

  He was standing in the corner of his room, in the space between his bed and a closet. Just standing there. Examining the wood frame around the closet door as if fascinated by the way it connected to the wall. And maybe he was fascinated.

  “Hey, buddy, I brought you a friend.”

  The dog looked around, sniffing, taking in the new surroundings. And then he spotted the little boy. It was funny, but Amber could swear the dog wanted to rush to him. Yet he didn’t.

  Mac didn’t jump up on Dee. Didn’t bump into him. Just stood there, waiting to be noticed. And when Dee didn’t move, Mac touched the boy’s hand with his nose.

  Dee turned and looked down.

  “Dog.”

  Amber was so delighted, her mouth dropped open.

  He remembered!

  “That’s right,” she said, pleased that he remembered. “Dog.”

  That was the thing with autistic children. You could never be certain what they would retain. Heck, with Dee, they’d never been certain he was absorbing anything. Off in his own world. He fed himself, for the most part, but only vegetables that were a certain color. And only if items on his plate didn’t touch. And never meat. Dee couldn’t stand meat.

  Mac backed up a few steps. And to her surprise, Dee followed. Amber squatted down, encouraging Colt’s dog to come to her.

  “Come pet him, Dee,” she urged.

  She didn’t expect him to comply. Honestly, there was a good chance he really didn’t understand her, that he was just following the dog, but Amber didn’t care. As long as he responded.

  “Sit, Mac,” she instructed.

  From this angle, she could see her nephew’s eyes, and as always happened, the loss of her sister came back in a wave of sorrow. He had her eyes. Who was she kidding? He had her entire face.

  “Put your hand out,” she told him softly. But her nephew’s beautiful brown eyes were fixed on the dog. Amber held her breath as she reached for his hand.

  He didn’t pull away.

  “Pet him,” she said, burying his fingers in Mac’s soft fur. The dog, bless his heart, held still, staring up at the boy.

  “Remember, his name is Mac,” she said. “He’s an Australian shepherd.” She showed her nephew how to stroke the dog. “Isn’t he pretty?”

  “Dog.”