Return to Marker Ranch (22 page)

He took the papers, feeling like that messed-up kid again, the one she always had to jump in and rescue. He folded them small and shoved them into his back pocket. “I'll look at them later.”

She shook her head in disgust. “Because you're so busy right now? Come on, Wade, think about it! We worked our whole lives not to let our family define us. To be something better than them. But here you are, letting this stupid PTSD define you! If you don't get help, you're letting it win.”

He looked out over the mountains, at the peaks that had always represented freedom for him. She was right about one thing. He was so tired of being trapped—imprisoned by his own mind. “It's not easy to beat.”

“Most good things don't come easily.” She looked defeated all of a sudden. “Look, if nothing else, think about the men and women who died fighting in Afghanistan. They won't get a chance to finish their lives, but you will. So do what it takes to live a great one. If nothing else, you owe it to those fallen soldiers to fight this!”

There were tears in her eyes, and she swiped them with her sleeve as she climbed into her Jeep. She slammed the door behind her and gunned the engine, leaving a cloud of dust around him as she drove out.

He watched her go, welcoming the silence. Welcoming a break from all the hard truth in her words. He was so damn tired. Maybe he should just go inside and sleep for a while.

A noise had him turning to face the pasture. Jackson had made his way over to the fence and stood just a few feet away, reaching out his funny reddish speckled nose to snuff the air between them. Taking a hesitant step closer, he nibbled at Wade's sleeve with his lips.

Wade felt his heart jump a little. It was the first time Jackson had ever sought him out. Slowly he reached out and stroked Jackson's velvet cheek and jaw. The red horse took another step closer so Wade could scratch his neck. Another step and Jackson was leaning his head and neck over the fence to rub his forehead on Wade's shoulder, almost knocking him off balance.

“Hey, big guy,” Wade murmured, bracing himself as Jackson used him as a scratching post. “Glad I can help you out here.”

The horse stopped scratching and whuffled his ear. Wade smiled, the expression so unfamiliar after the past week that his face felt stiff. “You want to do some work, Jackson?” He pulled the halter off the fence post, slipped it gently over the horse's nose and buckled it behind his ear. “Want to go for a walk?”

Wade climbed the fence slowly so as not to startle the horse, but Jackson didn't seem worried. He waited patiently while Wade dropped to the ground next to him and fastened a lead rope to his halter. He walked quietly by Wade's side as they started off through the big field.

The quiet presence of the big horse walking alongside him was more soothing than any of the drugs in Dr. Miller's arsenal. The rhythm of his muffled hoofbeats slowed the panic corroding Wade's spirit. Jackson didn't see him as broken. As long as Wade was calm and gentle, and fed him and worked with him, the horse was happy.

A thought stole over Wade's unquiet soul like a snowfall covering rough ground in soothing white. He might not be able to have Lori and the love he'd dreamed of. And he might never be totally accepted by everyone in Benson. But he could have
this
. This trust and friendship with Jackson. This chance to help a wronged animal adjust to its new and unfamiliar life.

He could do some good here. It wasn't everything he'd wanted, but it was something. A reason to put another foot forward and keep going. Because Nora was right. It was time to start fighting—for his sanity, for this horse, for this ranch, for everything he'd clung to in his darkest moments during the war, those moments when he'd wondered which of his next breaths would be his last. He'd survived, he'd lived, but now he needed to figure out how to start actually living.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

O
NE
OF
THE
steers Lori had brought down from the mountains was limping. Half-wild from his summer in the mountains, he was not at all interested in letting Lori near him to take a look. She kept her distance for now, walking slowly behind him, trying to decide if the problem was with his hoof or his leg. Or it could have been something up in his shoulder, in which case it might just resolve itself in the next day or so.

She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes before she was due to meet the feed supplier down at the barn. Maybe she'd ask Jim or Ethan if they could get up here and look at the steer and see what they thought.

She called Snack, and he pulled his nose out of the hole he'd been digging, dirt coating his muzzle and clinging to his haphazard fur. The little dog tore himself reluctantly away from whatever rodent he'd been after and followed her through the gate, then sat patiently, tail wagging, while she latched it behind her. At her whistle, he jumped into her arms. She set him up on Dakota's saddle, swinging up behind him. She'd be a few minutes late getting back to the barn, but that was okay. The more packed her schedule was, the less time she had to think about Wade.

Not thinking about Wade had become the driving force in her life. When he'd kicked her out of his life, she'd decided to fill up every waking hour, from dawn until midnight, with work. That way there'd be no time for worrying or wondering. And hopefully, with enough time, her feelings for him would just dry up like a neglected garden in a summer drought.

Unfortunately it had been almost a month and her efforts hadn't made much difference. She still thought about him way too often. She still missed him with an endless dull ache. But the ranch was looking great, all repaired and ready for winter, thanks to the extra hours she was putting in. And eventually she'd
have
to stop missing Wade. Somehow.

Mandy kept telling her to call him. Or write him. To try one more time to make their love work. But she was done. A girl could take only so much rejection.

Nudging Dakota down the dirt road, she passed the water tank. And glared at it because it was a reminder of that fall day when she'd found it empty and gone storming over to Marker Ranch to find Wade there.

And how they'd fought, and then become friends and eventually more.

And how he'd promised to love her forever, and then told her it was all over, because he couldn't let himself lean on anyone.

He had too much pride and an independent streak a million miles wide. She got why. He'd practically had to raise himself because his family had been so messed up. If he hadn't had that independence and pride, he might never have made it.

Maybe she understood him because she was similar. She'd had a lot of time to think lately. About her own pride. Her own determined independence. That maybe her single-minded focus on being a great rancher had been a way to avoid thinking too much about the hard stuff, like losing her mom.

Had she ever really faced her mom's death? Of course she'd cried, but as her dad and Mandy retreated into their individual, isolated grief, she'd seen that it was up to her to keep the family going. She'd managed the ranch, paid the bills, studied harder than she needed to and jumped into every school activity. It had been easier to keep herself busy than to think or feel.

Which was exactly what she was doing about Wade now. Trying not to feel. And that hadn't worked so well the first time around with him. All her old feelings had come pouring out the moment she saw him again.

She held Snack tightly as Dakota picked her way down a steep, narrow path that served as a shortcut to the barn. It was time to do something different. It was time to stop hiding from the hard emotions.

Lori glanced at the mountains behind her. There was still a lot of daylight left. She'd go meet the feed delivery and then clear her schedule. It was time to break the pattern. It might be depressing, but she was going to do something she should have done a long time ago. Take the last trail her mom had ridden. Face down the sorrow and grief that was there. And maybe, by facing that old pain, she'd find a new way to deal with the heartache of losing Wade.

* * *

L
ORI
GUIDED
D
AKOTA
across a dry creek and up the trail. Here the arid eastern flank of the Sierras gave way to graceful aspen groves. The trees peppered the air with the crisp rattle of their dry leaves, reminding her of the day that Wade had made them a bed in the woods. When they'd made love with the golden leaves wafting down around them.

It had been so magical and sweet. But that was the problem with sweet stuff. It always left you wanting more, even though it was bad for you. What if she was never able to look at an aspen tree without remembering that day? Without wanting more of what they'd had?

What was she thinking? She'd been in the mountains for only an hour and she was already going a little crazy. Maybe this pilgrimage was a bad idea.

Or maybe it was good to finally think about things. She scratched Snack's head, and the little dog looked up at her with his strange, black-rimmed eyes. “You doing okay, buddy?”

Snack wagged his tail. He was perched in his usual spot, in front of her on the saddle, looking thrilled with his wilderness adventure. His ears were perked up and he turned his head back and forth, snuffing the wind, trying to take in everything around them. She was glad he'd insisted on coming with her.

As Dakota's steady hoofbeats took them further up the ridge, past the aspen and into the pine-pocked high country, Lori scanned the surrounding hillsides. Here the real mountains began, with granite boulders piling up around her as if tossed by some giant hand. It was wild country, not good grazing land, so she rarely came here.

In its stark way, it was utterly beautiful. Above her, the granite peaks shot straight up into the sky, jagged and foreboding and a testament to the fact that Lori and her problems were just a tiny part of it all. She needed that reminder.

Forty-five minutes later, she and Dakota crested the ridge, and Lori's heart beat a little faster. The trail descended with a treacherous scree slope on one side—a vast steep field of broken rock stretching from the trail to the edge of a cliff. Every time she'd ridden this trail, she'd made a point to stare straight ahead here and never look down.

But this trail led to the rock that looked out over the Ten Lakes Valley. And just before the lookout was where her mom had died.

The wind was picking up, finding its way in between the seams of her parka. The temperature was dropping, too, and Lori scanned the sky. It couldn't be more than three in the afternoon. She should have time to get to the lookout, pay her respects and still get back to the ranch before dark.

She pulled her hat down lower and slowed Dakota a little, encouraging the mare to pick her way more carefully down the slope. The horse was sure-footed, and soon the trail flattened out. This was it. The place where her mom's horse had spooked and her mom had fallen.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe. Lori reined Dakota in, and the obedient mare stopped immediately. Tears blurred her vision, and Lori scooped up Snack, letting the little dog nuzzle her face, offering his own brand of snuffly terrier comfort. Why had she thought this would be a good idea?

Because she was trying to face things. To feel things. To stop running.
Setting Snack down on the saddle, she forced herself to calm down. What happened here was horrible. Terrifying. Devastating. But what else? She listened beyond the pounding of her own heartbeat to the quiet rushing of the wind in the pines. To the stillness of the high country.

There was more here than just fear. She remembered her mother's smile. So quietly beautiful. How she'd worn her straight blond hair in a ponytail most days, but there were always a bunch of wisps that escaped and framed her face. How she'd lie in the hammock her dad had hung in the pines by their house on Sunday afternoons after church and read a book for an hour. Her mommy-time, she'd called it. How she'd loved to dance, and cook, and garden and ride. She'd put Lori and Mandy on horses as soon as they could walk, and she loved to get the entire family out for trail rides together as often as possible.

Cozy blanket forts in front of the fire, birthday cakes and the huge Christmas party she threw every year. Church committees and girlfriends and board games and laughter. Memory after memory came spilling out like gems from a treasure chest that Lori hadn't realized was hidden in her heart.

Her mom might have died too young, but she'd lived and loved so well.

And ever since her death, Lori had traded those kinds of rich experiences for rigid goals. She'd let her fears rule her choices, and they'd kept her from so much. From friendships, connections, hobbies and all the small, fun adventures her mom had brought to their lives. And now they might steal her chance at a deep and generous kind of love.

When she got back home, she was going to write Wade Hoffman a letter and tell him one last time that she loved him, and why he'd made the biggest mistake of his life when he told her to go. She was going to ask Mandy if she wanted to go to the movies. She was going to put on a nice dinner for the ranch hands. She was going to start living.

“Thank you, Mom,” she murmured to the empty sky, to the woman who'd taught her so much, and continued to teach her right here on this mountain path. “I love you. And I miss you.”

Turning Dakota, she started back up the trail. The afternoon was a little dimmer, the air was getting colder and the mare was eager to get home, walking in a fast jerky rhythm that would get her back to her warm stall as fast as possible. Lori felt the same way and let her set the pace.

The path was steeper now, and the scree slope and the cliff dropped off on her left. Lori kept her eyes ahead, glad that with this pace, they'd soon be past it. Dakota, too eager to oblige, stumbled. She lurched forward, twisting her body suddenly to avoid the slope. But her back legs went over the edge, and she scrabbled frantically in the loose rock.

Lori reached for Snack, throwing him uphill, away from the drop and free of the falling horse. She kicked her feet out of the stirrups and used the pommel to vault off, shoving herself away from Dakota so her leg wouldn't be caught underneath if the mare fell.

She missed the path and hit the scree shoulder first. The steep slope took her, rolling her over and over. She scrabbled frantically at rocks as she went, searching for a handhold, but each one was as loose as the last, coming away in her hands. And then she saw the cliff, and made one last desperate, useless grab before she slid over. There was a sickening feeling of falling. Rocks loomed and she twisted, trying to right herself so she'd hit the bottom feet-first, shielding her head with her hands. And then there was nothing.

* * *

W
ADE
WAS
GROOMING
JM when his phone buzzed. Seeing the unfamiliar number light up the screen, he ignored the call, letting it go to voice mail while he cleaned the gelding's hooves with a pick. It was soothing, work like this. Simple and straightforward.

It was easier to think when he had something to do. And right now he had a lot to ponder. It hadn't taken more than a few appointments with his new counselor, a long talk with Dan and a few beers with Ethan to realize that he'd made a terrible mistake with Lori. That he'd fallen right back into his old ways of handling crisis—making sure he handled it alone. It came from his childhood, his counselor said. He'd been rejected by everyone when he was growing up—his parents, his older brothers, even his town. So he had no faith that anyone would be there for him. When things got scary, he pushed people away to avoid the rejection he was sure was coming.

In other words, he was royally screwed up. Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom.

But whatever the reasons for what he'd done, he'd hurt Lori in a big way. And he had no idea what he was going to do to try to win her back. Ironic, because the one thing in his life most clear to him was that he loved her—and he wanted a life with her.

The late-afternoon light filtered through the stall door. He'd given JM some grain, and the sound of the horse's contented chewing filled the air. Until it was interrupted by the phone buzzing again—the same unknown caller.

Shoving the hoof pick into his back pocket, Wade picked up his phone and answered. It was Mandy, talking fast, the panic scrambling her voice. Lori had gone for a ride in the mountains. And Dakota had come back without her.

Wade hit Speaker and set the phone down so he could slide a halter over JM's nose. “I'm trailering my horse, and I'll be over in fifteen minutes. Can you have some supplies ready for me?” He listed off anything he could think of, picturing his pack when he was in training to be a ranger. Food, first aid, emergency blankets, fleece clothing, rain gear and rope. Really long rope. Flashlights. A gun, or bear spray. A fresh horse for Lori.

By the time they were off the phone, he was at his truck, backing it up to the trailer. He lowered the hitch down at record speed, slapped the chains on and ran back to the stall to get JM. Ten minutes later he was pulling up to the main barn at Lori's ranch with a mantra in his head:
please let her be okay.

Mandy came running toward him, tossing a few coils of rope onto the heap of gear on the ground. “She went up toward the Ten Lakes lookout. The trail starts near the well and heads southwest. She took her little dog with her, and he isn't back, either.”

“Why did she go up there?” he asked, unlatching the trailer door.

“I don't know. She said she just wanted some time to think.”

Guilt shot through Wade. He'd certainly given her plenty to think about lately. “I promise you I'll bring her back.”