Dax: Military Heroes (The One I Want Series Book 4)

by Ellie Masters

  When he got around to it, he would file official papers certifying Dynamo as a service dog. Then, he would be able to keep Dynamo with him wherever he went. For now, he coped with crowds by staying as far from other people as possible.

  Three men sat around a table near the back of the diner. One of them was a Sheriff. They huddled over cups of steaming coffee and what looked to be some sort of pie. Barely past three pm, it seemed an odd choice of both food and beverage.

  A bright-eyed woman in her sixties wore her hair in a loose bun and had a crisp white apron wrapped around her waist. He immediately thought of a fairy godmother. Her smile was bright. Her cheeks round. And her eyes sparkled, inviting him in.

  She presided over the diner from behind an immaculate counter. When he walked in, she beamed the most welcoming smile he’d ever seen. The woman had to have some fairy blood inside of her, because she worked magic on him. His worries and fears melted away, his burdens lifted, and he felt oddly at peace, almost as if he were coming home.

  “Sit anywhere, hun. I’ll be right with you.” Her attention shifted to Dynamo and her eyes lit up. “Oh, and I have treats for your dog, if that’s okay?”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  The three men glanced up from their conversation, took one look at him, then went back to whatever they had been discussing. He took a seat at the table by the window, as far from the men as possible.

  The woman came over with a menu tucked under her arm. “You want tea? Coffee? Water? Or something stronger? We’ve got beer and wine, but that’s about it.”

  It felt too early to be drinking beer.

  “I’ll take some tea, please.”

  “Gotcha.” She handed him the menu. “Everything is amazing. The pies are fresh, if you’re looking for something sweet, and I’ll bring over a bowl of water for your pup.” She fished out a dog biscuit from her pocket. “Is this okay?”

  Dynamo lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he sniffed out the treat.

  “Dynamo thanks you.” He gave a nod.

  “Well, I’ll get that tea and you figure out what you want. My name’s Marge if you need anything.” She left him to wipe dust off the empty tables and fuss over the men, refilling their coffee and talking with them.

  When Marge returned, he gave his order for a burger and fries. A woman with a bubbly personality, Marge seemed to get the hint he wasn’t up for conversation, and left him to stew in silence.

  He was deep in thought about the direction of his life. On terminal leave from the military, he still had a paycheck coming in, however, it would be a few months, maybe a year, before his VA checks would kick in. That meant, he needed to find work, or find his way home.

  He wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

  Which meant he needed a job.

  But who would hire a stranger in a place like this? What kind of job did he want?

  Nothing that would tie him down, but something which would allow him to put a roof over his head, food in his belly, and a warm place for Dynamo to sleep.

  Highly attuned to his surroundings at all times, the conversation of the men behind him drifted to his ears.

  “I’ve got a boom on calves, a shortage of good men, and too many excuses from those I do have.” A man with a blue baseball cap pushed his steaming coffee mug toward the center of the table and hunched over the remnants of his apple pie.

  “Hire more hands.” The Sheriff took a swig of coffee. His attention shifted to Dax, and he gave a short nod after a thorough once over.

  “I would, except there seems to be a shortage of men who know how to handle themselves on a ranch, let alone during calving season.”

  Dax’s ears perked up at the men’s conversation.

  “Have you tried online?”

  “Waste of my time. Get a bunch of freaks thinking the work will be easy and the pay better than it is. I swear, no one is willing to work hard these days, and nobody is willing to hire on for short term work. Any that do know nothing about cows. By the time I train them, I won’t need them any longer, and I don’t have time to hold their hands, or put them in a saddle.”

  Dax debated what to do when Marge brought his meal. She placed a bowl of wet dog food on the floor for Dynamo.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Anytime.”

  “You’re a dog lover I take it?” He looked for an opening with Marge. He sensed she had her finger on the pulse of the local community.

  “Guilty,” she flashed a grin. “I hate when people have to leave their dogs tied up outside. As long as they’re well behaved, they’re welcome here.”

  “The dogs or the people?” He gave her a wink and returned her friendly smile.

  Marge’s laughter warmed his heart. Genuine and unencumbered, it was a wonderful sound for a tired soul.

  “Both.” Her eyes glimmered with tears of laughter.

  He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “How about them? Do they fall in the well-behaved crowd?”

  She flapped the rag she used to clean the tables. “Tom and Jerry are good men, and Sheriff Johnson isn’t so bad.”

  “Thank you.” It wasn’t much of an endorsement, but everything he needed.

  When she left his table, he tied the end of Dynamo’s leash to the table leg. They’d been working on basic commands when not in the truck, and while incredibly smart and attentive, he and Dynamo were still working out the kinks of who was in charge.

  He took a bite of his food, then devoured the entire burger in just a few bites. Wiping his chin, he decided to take a leap of faith.

  His chair scraped over the linoleum and he wandered over to the men.

  “Couldn’t help but overhear, and sorry to intrude, but did I hear you’re looking for an extra hand?”

  The man in the ball cap sized Dax up. His eyes widened and Dax knew exactly what the man was thinking. Men didn’t develop his kind of physique if they were afraid of hard labor. He had what this man needed, and more. Lucky day for the both of them, if it worked out.

  “You know anything about ranching?”

  “I know a thing or two.” He kept his answers short, not divulging too much information. He didn’t want these men to know his link to Texas and Kingston's Ranch.

  He grew up on Texas’s largest cattle ranch. The business flowed in his veins, but it hadn’t been enough to keep him home, much to his father’s chagrin. That was just one thing in a long list of disappointments.

  Seth Kingston's only son walked away from a cattle empire, and he never let Dax forget it. But, Dax didn’t want to manage cattle for a living. He wanted to save lives and make a difference in the world, not spend it eating dust with heifers, bulls, and calves.

  Calving season could be rough. It depended on the size of the herd, and the man in the ball cap looked stressed. They could help each other out.

  “It’s calving season, son. Do you know what that means?”

  “Long days and longer nights. If you need an extra hand, I can help.” He pointed to his dog. “Dynamo is a young dog, but if you don’t mind, I think he’d be a great help too.”

  “A Blue Heeler. Impressive. Is he trained?”

  “Not yet. He’s a rescue dog, believe it or not, but he’s learning.”

  The man exchanged a look with his friends. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You got references?”

  “Just separated from the Air Force. I can have my commander drop you a line.”

  “How about your skills? Know how to ride a horse?”

  “Born in the saddle.” He cocked his head.

  “Rope a bull?”

  “Easy as pie.”

  He perfected his rope skills years ago. Roping a bull wasn’t hard. It was those dang calves once they got their legs under them that was difficult. Bastards loved to run and could cut on a dime.

  “Know anything about calving?”

  “Yes, sir. Cut out the heavies and put them near the calving shed. Rinse and repeat every few days, and always remember tha
t whatever can go wrong will. Let the cows do their thing. They don’t need no help, except when they do. Then it’s the chain and calf puller to help her out.”

  The man huffed a laugh. “Sounds like you have experience.”

  “You tell me where and when and I’ll prove my worth. But head’s up, I’m not looking for anything permanent. I just got out of the Air Force and I’m not looking to settle down. Just need something to pass the time. Will that be a problem?”

  “No, that would work out fine. It doesn’t pay much. The days are long…”

  “And the nights longer.” He finished the man’s sentence. Anyone who knew anything about calving season knew it was a 24/7 operation until the last calf was born.

  “You’ll get a fair wage, food and board. Paid in cash.”

  “As long as my dog is welcome, that sounds fine to me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You a wanted man?”

  “No sir.”

  “Done anything you shouldn’t?”

  “Every man has, but nothing that would put me behind bars. Look, I served my country, but now she’s done with me. All I need is a little space and some breathing room to figure out my next step. I’m not looking for trouble, but can handle it if it comes.”

  He didn’t know the Montana cattle scene. Kings Ranch was big enough they didn’t have to worry about poaching and thieving. Things might be different around here.

  “Our trouble comes in the four-footed variety, wolves, coyotes, and the occasional mountain lion. You good with a gun?”

  “I’ve been known to hit a barn door.” He was an expert marksman and could hit a dime at a thousand yards. “If the work is honest, I don’t mind if it’s hard.”

  “The work is hard, but you seem to know that. You up for it?”

  “Yes sir.”

  The man gave him a long appraising look, then finished with a sharp nod. “I think I can help with that.” The man stood and stretched out his hand. “Name’s Tom Studer. I own Crowbar Ranch and a few hundred head of cattle.”

  That was nothing compared to the ten-thousand head at Kingston's Ranch. This would be good. Hard work was exactly the distraction Dax needed to get over the mess going on in his head.

  Chapter 4

  Dani

  The drive from Pullman to Bear Creek took a few hours. Nothing was close out west and she had to pass through the northern part of Idaho before heading into the rugged mountains near her home.

  Around each twist and turn, amazing views greeted her with sweeping vistas. As the miles piled behind her, she breathed easier and her tears dried up. The mountains would always be home to her, providing comfort and respite, as would the pastures which nestled beside them. She was a country girl through and through.

  As she descended down the steep roads, the distant plains spread out before her, extending their welcome home.

  Her father would be upset about Scott, and she didn't know if she would be able to keep him from seeking revenge against Scott for breaking his little girl's heart. Her father's overprotectiveness might have been impossible to deal with growing up, but she appreciated every bit of it now.

  A tear slipped free.

  Would she ever be free of the pain Scott left behind?

  Time heals all wounds.

  Some idiot thought that up, because she didn't think there would ever be a time when the pain went away. A spike had been driven through her heart and it hurt like hell.

  A few miles out from town, a low thump, thump, thump sounded and the whole car vibrated.

  Just what she needed.

  Fortunately, her father taught her how to change a flat and perform basic maintenance on her vehicle. Not that she was a mechanic. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But she knew what a dipstick was and how to use it.

  There was little traffic on the road. Nonetheless, she remembered her father's words about pulling to the side of the road. The shoulder could be the most dangerous place for a motorist. Tired drivers often zoned in on the brake lights of parked cars pulled off to the side, and could plow into the parked car.

  It was still early in the day, but she heeded her father's words and pulled as far off the shoulder as she could. At least it wasn't hot.

  Her friends might be enjoying tropical temperatures on the beaches in the Caribbean, but in Montana, springtime meant chilly temperatures and the occasional snow. Fortunately, the roads were clear, and it was warm enough to trick the wildflowers into bloom.

  A definite chill hung in the air. At least it wasn't bitingly cold. She shrugged out of her jacket and got to work.

  Sure enough, her rear driver's side tire had run flat. A quick inspection revealed a nail sticking through the sidewall. Not something she could patch and re-inflate. Fortunately, her Jeep had a full-sized spare.

  She bent down to loosen the lug nuts. Placing the tire iron over the nuts, she gave a hard yank.

  Nothing.

  She tried again.

  The lug nut refused to release its grip.

  That was okay. Her father taught her how to use leverage to her advantage.

  When that failed to crack any of the lug nuts loose she hopped up and down on the end of the tire iron. Still nothing. Not a single one of the lug nuts budged. She finally accepted defeat and pulled out her cell phone. Only, she had no service. In the mountains, cell coverage was spotty at best. Just her luck, she managed to break down in a dead zone.

  The rumble of a truck engine sounded behind her and she glanced up at a beat-up pickup truck approaching. Most people in these places were good people, but she trusted no one.

  Hoping the truck kept on its way, she gripped her phone. When it slowed, she edged to the driver's side door. She kept a firearm stored under her seat and unlocked the combination to the box while the truck pulled in front of her vehicle and came to a stop.

  She stood there, using the driver's door as a shield, one hand on the frame and the other primed to grab her gun as the front door of the truck opened.

  A dog jumped out followed by the slow glide of a man's leg. He wore boots and worn jeans. When he stood, he kept getting taller and taller and oh my, he was big. Big, tall, and full of muscles bunching on top of more muscles.

  Things could go south quickly if his intent wasn't friendly. She reached down and palmed her gun. A quick check confirmed the safety was engaged. She left it on. If she needed to shoot, she could disengage it and hit the man square in the chest from where he stood, four car lengths away.

  Taller than the average man, he stood well over six feet tall. His muscular definition pointed to a man who wasn't afraid of hard work. Her father would appreciate such a thing. He was always complaining about how difficult it was to find good workers for the ranch.

  If she were in Pullman, she'd say this man lived in the gym and survived by guzzling protein shakes, but out here he probably earned that physique from hard, honest work.

  Only, there was a caginess about him that wasn't present in the bone-weary ranch hands. He reminded her of a predator who had recently found freedom. Like he didn't know whether to run or bite the closest thing to him. Right now, the closest thing was her, and she would not become a rape statistic.

  She gripped her gun and pressed her thumb beside the safety. In a heartbeat, she could shoot.

  He closed the distance in ground-devouring strides, his boots crunching on the gravel as he drew near. But he stopped several paces away. His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head.

  "You need help, miss?"

  "I'm good. Thank you." She would hike until she found cell reception. That seemed safer than spending any more time with this man alone. And what a man he was, all feral and wild. Delicious and captivating, he drew her to him. There was something about him. Maybe it was the blaze blue of his eyes? Or the sharpness of his jaw? Or the flex of his broad hand and all the veins popping out along his forearms?

  He ran long fingers through his short-cropped brown hair. There was a little length on top, which shifted b
ack into place once his hand had gone past. The man's rugged jawline bunched as he gritted his teeth.

  "You sure about that?" He glanced at the flat tire. "Looks like you could use some help."

  "I know how to change a flat, thank you very much."

  His brows climbed up his forehead and he took a step back. "I wasn't questioning your abilities, but rather offering a hand.”

  His square jaw and high cheekbones perfectly accentuated his face. An unusual combination, it made him insanely attractive, or maybe it was the long diagonal scar running from the tip of his eye to the corner of his mouth that spoke of danger. Whatever injury caused it, the pink, puckered skin spoke to something recent. And it said in no uncertain terms this man was dangerous.

  It was something she should listen to, but she didn’t find herself running away. Instead, it made her all the more curious.

  He cupped his cheek when he noticed the direction of her gaze.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."

  "Don't be. You want help or not?" He glanced overhead, looking bored.

  She needed help, but was too full of pride to admit she couldn't do it herself. Why was it so hard to smile and be thankful for his help?

  Because... Scott.

  Her hatred of all men was the reason. Douchebag Scott turned her into a raving bitch who couldn’t accept help from a stranger. She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. This stranger didn't deserve her anger.

  "I tried loosening the lug nuts, but they're frozen."

  "Mind if I give it a go?"

  "Be my guest." She gripped the frame of the door, tensing.

  "Mind putting down the weapon?"

  "How did you...?"

  He cocked his head and the corner of his mouth lifted into a grin. The smile transformed his face into the most amazing thing she'd ever seen, softening the garish scar, and revealing something of the man underneath. His lightly tanned skin glowed. Men around here didn't develop their tans until late spring, which meant…

  "You're not from around here, are you?"

  "What makes you say that?" His full, pink lips pressed firmly together and his brows drew tight.