“No, it’ll be fine.” And she knew the words were true. If Dal could recover from losing a leg, then she could surely survive a wrenched ankle.
He closed the door and went around to the driver’s side. The cab of the truck smelled of peppermint. An old vehicle with a leather bench seat. A classic truck that must be at least fifty years old. She couldn’t help wondering about his life and the man he’d become. Did he still like pistachio ice cream? Was he still a whiz at calculus? Was he married with kids of his own?
She longed to ask, but didn’t dare. Guilt nibbled at her conscience for the anguish she must have caused when she’d stopped writing to him. It was better to forget.
She watched with detached interest as he got in and started the engine. He shifted the gears and drove slow and steady over the dirt road leading into town.
“Nice truck,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“What year?”
“Nineteen-sixty. I rebuilt the engine myself. It’s therapeutic.”
“I really appreciate your help,” she said, feeling out of place. Feeling as if she should remind him of who she was. But what good would that do? Chatting about a past she’d rather forget wouldn’t be much fun. Above all else, she didn’t want his pity. She just wanted to forget what she’d been through.
“How long have you been running?” he asked, staring straight ahead as he used his right foot to press the gas and brake pedals, as needed.
“Since I was fifteen, when my parents died and I went into foster care.” She hadn’t meant to give him such a big reminder. The words had just slipped out before she could call them back. But this disconcerting man had caught her off guard. She couldn’t help wondering if the clues would remind him of who she was. She didn’t want to talk about her life, a habit she’d acquired over the years to protect herself from being hurt again. With good reason.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
“How about you? When did you start running?”
“I guess I’ve always been a runner,” he said. “First in high school when I played football and ran track, then as a marine. When I returned from the war, I ran to rehabilitate myself. To keep myself independent and out of a wheelchair.” He clamped his mouth shut, as though he also regretted confiding so much.
Obviously she wasn’t the only one with a painful past.
“I can understand your desire for independence,” she said. “I heard about a 5K race they’re holding here in the valley the latter part of August and thought I’d participate, as long as my ankle doesn’t stop me. A race motivates me to get up early and run every morning. It also keeps me in shape in case I’m called out on a wildfire this summer.”
He glanced her way, his brown-green eyes skimming over her bare calves and running shoes. “Yeah, I’ve already entered that race myself.”
“Is that right? I can’t say I’m surprised.” Tilting her head, she chuckled. They still had things in common, but the reasons why they both ran intrigued her more than the running itself. Because, truth be told, Julie ran for the isolation of it. The solitude and healing. She’d been by herself so long that she didn’t know anything else. And she’d never met a person she thought might fully understand her deeply buried motives.
Until now.
“Who are you running for?” she asked.
Or from? That was what she really wanted to know.
He tilted his head in question. “What do you mean?”
“Who’s your sponsor?”
“Ah! Sunrise Ranch, of course. The amputee kids.”
“Of course.”
“And who’s your sponsor?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t have one yet. I could use the Forest Service, but that might be viewed as a conflict of interest.”
“Why?”
“Some people might not like the idea of a government agency sponsoring the new forest ranger. Some folks get touchy about things like that.”
“Well, they shouldn’t.”
“I agree.”
Within minutes, he pulled into the driveway of her white Forest Service house, located two blocks north of Main Street. From what her new range assistant had told her, Lyn Baldwin had lived here with her amputee daughter until she’d married Cade Baldwin and moved out to Sunrise Ranch.
Julie hadn’t needed to give Dal directions to her house. Not surprising in such a small town. Throughout her career, she’d been transferred quite a bit and had worked hard for this promotion as a forest ranger. Now she hoped to put down roots. She might never be a wife and mother, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t become involved in her community.
A town that included Dal Savatch.
As he helped her amble up the path to her front porch, she noticed that the pain in her ankle was almost gone. Thank goodness. She had a full day of work ahead of her. With starting a brand-new job, she didn’t need a throbbing ankle to keep her from perusing all the timber and watershed reports sitting on her desk.
Dal took her key from her hand and inserted it in the lock. He opened the door, pushing it wide. He didn’t come inside, but hesitated until she turned to face him. And then she realized that several minutes had passed in which she’d forgotten he was an amputee. She’d been so engrossed in her own discomfort that she hadn’t noticed how he’d helped her up the front steps. Somehow, this man made her forget he was handicapped.
A flood of memories from her childhood surged through her mind. Dal pushing her on the tire swing in her backyard. Helping her move sprinkler pipes in her father’s cornfield. Sitting with his arm around her shoulders as they rode the school bus each morning. In her mind, she couldn’t think of him as anything but confident, whole and in control.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks for everything. I really appreciate it.”
He lifted one strong hand and rested it against the threshold, his brows crinkled with thought. “Maybe once your leg is feeling better, we could run together. In the mornings. To prepare for the race. It might be safer if you have a running partner.”
His face flushed and he stepped back. She realized that he was embarrassed by the offer. Maybe he even regretted it.
She hesitated, liking this idea. And why not? Dal Savatch was nice enough. She didn’t have any friends in town. Not yet. Maybe spending time with this man from her past might help alleviate the hollow loneliness that had taken up residence within her heart.
“I’d like that very much,” she said.
Then she thought better of it. Dal Savatch was too likable. Too easy to talk to. Renewing their relationship could backfire on her. And then what?
“I’ll see you later.” He hurried down the steps, as though he wanted to escape.
Before she could change her mind.
As he strode gracefully back to his truck, she stared at his wide shoulders. No second thoughts. Not now.
Without another word, she went inside and closed the door. An empty void settled inside her chest. As she hobbled down the hallway to her bedroom, she knew she’d be late getting in to work that morning. She also knew she’d see Dal Savatch again sometime soon. Perhaps tomorrow morning. Or the next. And somehow that was okay for now. It had taken years for her to process her grief. Her psychologist had taught her not to think about the past or worry about the future. And she wouldn’t. Because she and Dal Savatch could never be anything more than friends.
Chapter Two
Julie didn’t go running the next day. Or the next. Dal knew, because he watched for her. She must be home resting her ankle. But after three more days and no sign of her, he started to worry. He couldn’t help himself. And he didn’t like that. Because worrying led to caring, which led to heartbreak.
Julie Granger meant nothing to him. Just a blast from h
is past. He barely knew her, but that didn’t seem to matter. After all this time, he couldn’t get her off his mind. Her silent rejection from years past still haunted him.
A week later, he couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled his old truck into a parking place next to the McClellan National Forest Service office. After killing the engine, he slid the keys from the ignition and thrust the door wide-open. He slipped the keys into one pocket of his faded blue jeans, then swiveled around in his seat, placed both his booted feet on the ground, braced his hands against the frame of the door, got his balance and stood. A swift series of motions no one seemed to notice. But for Dal, each action required concentration if he didn’t want to fall flat on his face.
Rotating his left hip forward, he stepped up from the curb. With not a hint of a limp, he walked past the American flag waving in the breeze. Morning sunlight rested on the red tulips and yellow daffodils blooming in the flowerbeds that lined the redbrick building. Within moments, he reached the double glass doors, pushed them open and stood inside the reception room. The aroma of coffee filtered through the air, along with the click of someone typing on a keyboard and a phone ringing down the hall.
He hesitated, thinking he shouldn’t be here. Thinking he should have insisted that Cade come instead. But the truth was, Dal wanted to see Julie again. To find out if her ankle had healed. To go jogging with her.
To catch up on her life.
He tried to tell himself this visit was all about business. To develop a horse trail and campsite for amputee kids out at Sunrise Ranch. And yet, he knew it was something more. Something he didn’t understand.
He also knew that being near Julie might put him on a one-way collision course to heartache. He could never fall in love again. Never marry. Never have a family of his own. The secret he kept hidden deep inside his soul wouldn’t allow him to pretend.
So why was he here?
He still wasn’t quite sure. And that thought caused him to turn and reach for the door handle. Ready to leave. Ready to run away.
“Hi, Dal. Can I help you?” Shauna Cline, the receptionist, greeted him. A woman of perhaps fifty years, her red cheeks plumped with her smile.
He nodded politely. “Hi, Shauna. I... I’m here to see the new forest ranger, if she’s available.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
Dal shook his head. “Nope, sorry.”
He’d never needed an appointment to visit Lyn Baldwin when she’d been the forest ranger here. But after marrying Dal’s best friend and having two children, Lyn had retired to become a full-time mom six months earlier. Maybe Julie was a bit stuffier, but he doubted it. Not from what he remembered about her. Julie Granger had always been laid-back and easygoing. Anything but conventional.
But that was before her folks had died. She could have changed. Life had a funny way of doing that to people.
“Excuse me one moment, and I’ll see if she’s free.” Shauna stepped around the counter and bustled down the hall.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Dal noted the time. He thumbed through a pamphlet on preventing forest fires. He didn’t sit down, and he didn’t have to wait long.
“Dal! This is a pleasant surprise.” Julie greeted him with a tight smile and stiff shoulders. In her eyes, he saw a hesitancy that told him his visit was anything but pleasing to her.
“How’s your ankle?” Dal shook her hand, his gaze swishing over her spruce-green pants and the bronze shield pinned just above the left front pocket of her drab olive-color Forest Service shirt. A drastic change from the running shorts and shoes she’d been wearing last week. The uniform seemed odd to Dal. He had to remind himself that she was a professional woman, and the tables had turned on him. He now needed her help.
“Fine. I just started running again yesterday morning.”
And he’d missed her somehow. Maybe that was a good thing.
“I’m glad to hear it.” He glanced at Shauna, who sat at her desk watching them with attentive gray eyes. “Um, I’m here in an official capacity. I have a business proposal I’d like to discuss, if you have the time.”
“Sure! Come on back.” She spun around and headed down the hallway, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he followed.
He did, trying not to stare at the gentle swing of her hips. He couldn’t get over the graceful change in her. What a shame life had cheated them out of growing up together, going to college and possibly marrying. If her parents hadn’t died, he might not have gone to war. He wouldn’t have been there to save Cade Baldwin’s life, and he wouldn’t have lost his leg.
What kind of man might he have become if Julie hadn’t been yanked out of his life? It did no good to think about it, but he couldn’t help wondering.
Her office wasn’t overly large, but included an alcove where a wide mahogany conference table sat surrounded by six tall-backed chairs. Stacks of reports rested in tidy piles along the edge of her desk. He gazed at a picture of two desert bighorn sheep hanging on one wall and a mule deer standing beside a mountain stream on the other. She obviously still loved the outdoors, just as he did.
She rounded the desk. “Please, have a seat.”
He sat opposite her, conscious of her watching him. Glad the desk provided a barrier between them.
“So what can I do for you?” Her chair creaked as she sat back and crossed her legs.
He cleared his throat. “There’s an old mountain trail just south of Sunrise Ranch. It comes out on the other side along Lake McClellan. I don’t know of many people who use it except me. We’d like to develop the trail a bit more and even put a campsite at the top of the mountain where it overlooks the lake.”
“You want to alter a trail that already exists?” she clarified.
He nodded, wishing he’d asked Cade to come and make this request instead. He longed to blurt out the truth to Julie. That he knew her, had never forgotten her and wished he could tell her his darkest, most hurtful secret of all. “Yes, we want to take some of our amputee kids up there on horses for an overnight camping experience.”
Without a word, she stood and reached for a round canister sitting behind the door. Opening it, she unrolled a large map of the area and spread it across the conference table. She waved for him to join her. “Can you show me exactly where the trail is located?”
He stood and walked to her side. Her gaze dipped to his legs, but he knew she saw nothing of his prosthesis beneath the cover of his blue jeans and scuffed cowboy boots.
She bent over the table, her hands smoothing the map before she pointed at a small red star. “This is where we are in town.” She skimmed her index finger over the map toward the east. “And this is Sunrise Ranch. Here’s Lake McClellan. Where’s this trail you want to develop?”
He leaned closer to inspect the map. Bold green numbers indicated the locations of Forest Service trails and campsites in the area. A legend at the bottom of the map named each trail. He recognized several, but it took him a moment to find the isolated one he sought. He couldn’t concentrate. The citrus fragrance of Julie’s shampoo distracted him and he blinked several times, trying to focus.
“Right here.” He traced a thin line rising over a mountain peak and skirting the northeastern side of the lake.
She peered at the spot. “Number eighteen. Gilway Trail.”
“Gilway,” he repeated.
“Probably the name of the person credited with finding the path.” Without explanation, she stepped over to the wall and yanked open the drawer of a metal cabinet. Her long fingers skimmed the lips of manila folders before she pulled one file out and laid it open on the table. A rustle of papers followed as she flipped through the pages, her eyes narrowing as she skimmed several paragraphs of various reports.
Dal watched in fascination, impressed by her obvious interest in the topic. Finally, she stood back and smi
led wide.
“Gilway has been around for ages. No one really knows when it originated. Probably used by the Indians as an old hunting trail before the white man even lived in this area. It’s already zoned for hikers and pedestrians. Semiprimitive nonmotorized.”
“Nonmotorized?”
“Yep. That means no snowmobiles, motorbikes, cars, trucks or engines of any kind. Except chain saws, of course. In case we need to fight a wildfire up there.”
Good. He liked that. “What about horses?”
“Horses are okay.”
A feeling of relief swept over him. He’d ridden that trail many times and didn’t want to get in trouble for taking a horse up there.
“No campsite presently exists at the top,” Julie continued. “Just the trail. As far as I can tell, it’s been recently used by an occasional hunter and the Back Country Horsemen. Beautiful scenic views. Very close to your ranch. You’ve chosen wisely.”
“Yeah, I knew the first time I went up there that it was a therapeutic place to take amputee kids.”
“How often do you plan to use the trail and campsite?” she asked.
“Maybe seven nights total throughout the months of July and August, not including the times I ride up there on my own.”
“And you just want a camping experience for the kids?”
“Yes, to help them build a feeling of independence and self-esteem. We have horseback riding for all the children back at the ranch, but only those kids who have some experience and confidence riding a horse will be allowed to go on the overnight campout. Above all else, we want to ensure their safety.”
She leaned her hip against the edge of the table and folded her arms. “That’s good. How many people will you have going up there at one time?”
“Maybe four or five kids and the same number of adults each time.”
“With a horse for every person?”
He nodded. “And several pack horses, too.”
“That sounds okay, but keep in mind that crowding can reduce the quality of your experience up there. You won’t want to overdo it.”
Love Inspired February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Cowboy's Reunited FamilyThe Forest Ranger's ReturnMommy Wanted Page 22
