Texas Healer

by Jean Brashear

  “He’s a pistol, isn’t he, mamacita?” Rafe walked around to the colt’s other side, keeping one hand on the rump as he moved behind the colt to let him know his location when he was out of sight.

  The colt kicked once, and Rafe spoke to him in Spanish, keeping his tone calm and easy, his hands soothing. “Oh, yes, Mama. He’s going to be a challenge, this one.”

  “You like challenges, don’t you?”

  Diana’s voice and Lobo’s bark sent the colt dancing against Rafe’s bad hip. He grunted with the pain and shifted but never stopped stroking.

  When he had the colt settled again, he met her gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, glancing at Lobo, whom she’d given wide berth. “I thought I spoke softly enough not to spook him.”

  Rafe shrugged. “It’s all right. This one’s more high-strung than most.”

  She didn’t answer, and he looked up. Lobo stood at attention. She didn’t take her eyes off the dog.

  “Lobo,” Rafe reminded him, “friend.”

  Lobo peered at him, then at her, still not sure. Dulcita waddled over and plopped down beside Diana, closing her eyes in bliss as Diana scratched behind her ears.

  “Well, one of them trusts me, anyway.” She smiled, her gaze returning to the colt and lingering.

  “Come on in,” Rafe said. “I can tell you want to pet him.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  He smiled back. “When you love horses, there’s no substitute.” He nodded at Dulcita, acknowledging her slavish attention. “Even the most shameless dog can’t compete.”

  Diana laughed, free and easy as he’d never heard her. He wanted to freeze time and rewind.

  “Do it again.”

  “What?” She looked startled. “What did you say?”

  He hadn’t realized he’d urged it out loud. “Nothing.” The colt danced beneath his hands, feeling Rafe’s unrest. “Sh-h, little one, it’s all right,” he soothed. “Soy loco.” I’m crazy.

  Was he ever.

  Diana hadn’t moved.

  He looked up and realized that Lobo had once again put himself between Rafe and her. “Lobo—” he snapped. “Down.”

  As though he sensed how much Diana disturbed Rafe, Lobo obeyed with obvious reluctance. Diana glanced back at Rafe, then again at Lobo, as if she couldn’t decide who posed the greater danger.

  His own unease had him bristling. “Never mind. Go back inside if that’s what you want.”

  “That’s not—” Diana cursed with an aptitude that would have made any soldier proud.

  Taken by surprise, Rafe laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” She stared at him.

  “You.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “I can’t figure you out.”

  “Me?” At first she appeared to be offended, but soon enough a smile slid over her features as she shook her head. “I’m not the mysterious one.”

  Why that felt like a compliment he couldn’t pinpoint. He shrugged. “No mystery here. I’m just a simple man.”

  Laughter burst from her lips. Rafe stopped, his hand on the colt, and stared at her this time, frank in his appreciation.

  Her smile lingered. “You are the least simple man I ever met.” The look in her eyes made him wish, for one insane moment, that he could forget all the reasons she was off-limits.

  “Well…” He cleared his throat, tearing his gaze from hers as though he were a green kid. He barely resisted the urge to shuffle his feet.

  Madre de Dios.

  Before he could figure out what to say to her, she spoke. “I do want to pet that colt.” She glanced over at Lobo, then back at him.

  Rafe started to rescue her, but she surprised him.

  She pulled in a deep breath and took a step—but not toward him. Toward Lobo.

  Rafe held his breath as he watched. Lobo’s eyes were wary, his whole body tense. Rafe wished he could place himself between them, because he wasn’t absolutely sure the dog wouldn’t take a piece of her—

  But one look at the resolve in her gaze kept him silent, praying. Give her a chance, boy. She won’t hurt you.

  Diana lowered herself to her knees as she neared the dog, injured hand tucked against her body, extending her left hand with excruciating slowness. “Friend, Lobo,” she said in barely a murmur. “I won’t hurt you—I promise.”

  Lobo never took his yellow wolf’s eyes from her. His whole body trembled. Even Dulcita didn’t interfere.

  Rafe was on the verge of ordering her off—

  Then, in a movement so slow it took a minute to register, Lobo lowered his head just the slightest inch—

  And accepted the touch of Diana’s hand.

  Rafe let out the breath he’d been holding. Let his muscles relax, inch by inch. Hoped his heartbeat would soon resemble something near normal.

  Then Diana turned, her face glowing, and his heartbeat sped up again.

  “So beautiful,” she said with wonder.

  “Yeah.” But he wasn’t thinking about the dog. This Diana, relaxed and triumphant, packed a punch he wouldn’t soon forget. He wondered if his reaction was all over his face.

  Good thing Diana had already turned away, stroking Lobo and crooning as the big dog scooted his body closer to her hand. Dulcita crowded near to get some of the attention, and Diana laughed, bringing her damaged hand out from its protection so she could pet them both.

  Rafe watched like a proud father, his throat thick and his heart full of wonder.

  Diana rose, giving one last pat to each, then headed in his direction, her steps surer than he’d ever seen them, her eyes bright with joy.

  Rafe knew in that instant that he’d never faced a danger quite like her.

  He’d lived like a monk for a long time now, his heart too weighted down with the loss of his men and the fight to make a new life. He’d known he’d get around to women again at some point. His appetites had always been strong.

  But he’d imagined that when that day came, he’d have an affair with no strings, some woman with similar appetites who’d be his reintroduction to the land of men and women. And maybe someday, if he was very lucky, he’d find a simple woman who would understand the call of this place and honor his limits, who’d accept affection and his promise to be true, who might even give him children and be part of a peaceful, ordinary life.

  There was nothing simple about Diana Morgan. He ought to have his head examined for considering—for even one second—playing with fire like this.

  But apparently, the man who had lived on adrenaline, who had loved taking risks, hadn’t died with his men.

  “Are you okay?” Her voice came from right behind him.

  He jolted, and the colt shied.

  Rafe shoved away crazy wonderings and concentrated on calming the colt. “Yeah.”

  “Oh, aren’t you a love?” she crooned, her left hand stroking the colt’s head, her right one lingering in midair as though longing to touch, too. When the colt accepted her touch, she moved closer, resting the damaged hand against his withers as she petted and murmured.

  His mount snorted, and Rafe moved himself a safe space away from her, rubbing Chieftain’s nose and leaning against the fence post, watching the two of them. Lobo stuck his head through the fence and licked his hand. Rafe accepted the comfort.

  Damn. If only she’d stayed prickly.

  As if the silence finally registered, Diana turned. Four sets of eyes observed.

  She glanced at each of them in turn.

  Except Rafe.

  She dropped her hands from the colt. “I—I should get back to my reading.” She took two steps away, but the colt followed and butted her back with his head.

  Delight replaced caution, and Diana swung around to pet the colt again.

  “You want to go riding?” The second the words were out of his mouth, Rafe cursed himself. How much she obviously missed horses shouldn’t matter.

  But it did.

  Hope leaped into her eyes. Then she saw his face a
nd shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “You could ride with me.” In for a penny, in for a pound.

  “Do you really want to do that?”

  He should say no. If only he couldn’t see someone younger and more innocent peering out from her eyes. “You said you missed riding.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” Her chin tilted. “I don’t want to be a charity case.”

  “You’re not.” He turned away. If only it were that simple. He walked to the gate and opened it, but didn’t look back, waiting for her to decide.

  Gazing into the distance, he wondered exactly when the hell he’d lost his mind. Physical proximity was not what he needed just now, and sharing a saddle was about as intimate as two people got still wearing clothes.

  Busy trying to figure out how to bow out with grace, he jumped when her hand touched his arm. His gaze jerked to hers.

  Green eyes held equal parts anticipation and unease. “Thank you. I’d love to ride.” She walked past him through the gate, casting one last look back at the colt, who was only a step behind her. She touched his head. “Bye, sweetheart.” She looked at Rafe. “Does he have a name yet?”

  Rafe shook his head. “Want to pick one?”

  She studied the colt from the other side of the fence, a small smile playing over her lips. “It shouldn’t be a babyish name. He’s going to be a big bruiser one day, and he needs a name with enough dignity for a champion.”

  “You really do love horses, don’t you?”

  “The only thing I love more is practicing medicine.”

  For a moment, they were both silent. Then Rafe spoke. “Yeah.” He’d once had his own dreams of med school after the service. “Come on,” he said. “Mounting with one hand would be tough. I’ll give you a boost.”

  She stopped him with another touch. “Rafe, I really mean it. Thank you.”

  “De nada,” he replied. But it felt like much more than nothing.

  Diana sat in front of Rafe, only too aware of his size and the hard contours of his body, of how he worked to keep some distance between them.

  She’d like some of that distance herself, would like to grab the reins and ride this magnificent animal alone, racing flat out across the land.

  But riding double, for all its complications, was worlds better than not riding at all. Drawing in a deep breath of mountain air, she looked around. “It’s beautiful here. Not in any way I would have expected, but there’s this sense of space and possibilities—” She shook her head. “I don’t have the right words.”

  Behind her, Rafe’s voice rumbled. “You’re doing all right.”

  His breath across her nape made her shiver.

  “Cold? Gets cool as the sun drops behind the mountains.”

  How could she possibly be cold when he was so warm against her?

  She sat up straighter. “I’m fine. Maybe we should go back. It’s got to be hard on Chieftain, carrying double.”

  “You don’t weigh enough to hurt.”

  Her mouth quirked. “One use for being skinny, I guess. My mother used to despair of me ever filling out.”

  “Where is she now?”

  The grin vanished. “She died a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it does. Losing family hurts.”

  Something in his voice made her turn. Her shoulder brushed his chest, her lower body pressing against his. She jerked away as if she’d touched a hot stove, but she couldn’t create enough room between them.

  Silence fell, thick and edgy. Diana scrambled to unearth the sophisticated, take-charge woman who considered sex merely recreation or the doctor who understood involuntary physical reactions. She could only find a self-conscious schoolgirl she’d never been.

  She grasped for any distraction. “Where’s your pottery studio?”

  The saddle creaked as he tried to scoot backward. “Nothing so fancy as a studio. Just a storeroom on the back of my house.”

  “Oh.” Gee, such wit, Diana.

  His weight shifted again. Cool air slid behind her as Rafe dismounted. “My house is just around the next bend. Think I’ll walk the rest of the way.” He glanced back at her from beneath his hat brim. “If I take the reins and lead him, can you hold on to the saddle horn with one hand?”

  “Of course.” Embarrassment made her stiff.

  “Good.” He’d already turned away.

  “Stop,” she said. “Let me get down. I’ll walk back.” She could slide off a horse without hands.

  She didn’t count on the uneven ground and stumbled.

  In an instant, he was there, steadying her. “You all right?”

  His hands were so big and warm and sure; his chest right in front of her, broad and deep. But what sent her spinning was the compassion in his voice.

  “Th-thanks—” she stammered. “I’ll find my way back.” Again she stumbled, and damned the slick soles of her shoes.

  “No—” He grasped her by the waist and pulled her close. “Diana, don’t—”

  “Let me go,” she whispered. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone—”

  “You know that’s not true,” he said, his voice unbearably gentle. “Maybe it’s not me you need, but you can’t go on this way. You’ll break if you don’t bend.”

  He kept his hold on her loose but firm. Supporting more than restraining. Her eyes burned against the longing to let go, just once, to give into what she’d feared all her life—

  “I—can’t—” she choked out. “I don’t—”

  “Sh-h…” Rafe drew her into his body, one hand stroking her back, the other cradling her head against his chest. “Cry, mi linda. Cry for all that you’ve lost.”

  Even as slow tears leaked, she shook her head and tried to summon the strength to pull away. “Crying doesn’t fix anything. I’m not weak. I won’t be.”

  He soothed her as he’d gentled the colt, speaking in deep, even tones. “Of course you’re not weak, Diana, but you’re running on nerves. You can’t get stronger when you’re exhausted.”

  “I’ve rested too much here.”

  “You fight peace the way a child fights sleep.” He tipped her head and studied her. “What do you think will happen if you let go?”

  She stared up into those mage’s eyes. “I lose.”

  “Lose what?”

  He saw too much. She tucked her head back against his chest so he wouldn’t see more. “Everything,” she whispered.

  A slight tensing told her he wanted to ask.

  To his credit, he didn’t. Instead, he stepped away but clasped her hand. “Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “To my spring.” He’d already begun to walk, holding the reins in his other hand.

  She could see the price of this day in his gait. “Why don’t we sit down?”

  He turned, saw her glance at his hip. “I know my limits.”

  “Your limp is worse.”

  “Some days that happens.” He kept walking. To avoid being a drag on him, she hurried to catch up.

  “You have a spring of your own? How big—” She fell silent when they entered a clearing and she got her first look at his house.

  “Rafe…” she sighed. “It’s perfect.”

  He did stop then, smiling down at her. “Thank you.”

  The log house, two stories high, sat in the clearing as though it had been there forever. On the wraparound porch, sturdy rocking chairs called out a welcome. She turned and caught her breath at the view he would have. “Oh, mercy.”

  “Yeah. Sunrise is always an event.”

  “A cup of coffee…sitting in one of those chairs…” She resisted another sigh. “How can you bring yourself to leave each day?”

  He chuckled. “Some days I don’t. Come on inside—or wait out here, and I’ll bring you a glass of water.”

  “No, I’ll help. I want to see the rest.” She followed him up the steps after he tied Chieftain to
a porch rail.

  But she lingered outside the screen door, looking at the vista, breathing deeply and filling herself with the glory of it.

  Then the door shut, and she turned to follow.

  The interior suited him just as well.

  Log walls shone gold as honey in the fading afternoon light. A Navajo rug hung on the wall next to a rustic stone fireplace with a thick, rough-hewn wooden mantel. Two butterscotch leather couches flanked the fireplace with another Navajo rug on the floor between them. She spotted a bronze on one table—a warrior on horseback.

  The orange of the lowering sun poured through the windows of a kitchen that felt homey. Pine cabinets lent a golden warmth; Lobo’s claws clicked on the red Mexican-tile floor. A big window over the sink looked out toward more mountains; beside a round oak table ranged a wall of windows.

  A bowl sat on the tile countertop, surely of Rafe’s design, this time deep cobalt bleeding through an iridescent silver.

  Rafe turned, holding two glasses filled with icy water, his expression serious and waiting.

  She didn’t try to hide her wonder. “This place is incredible. How long have you lived here?”

  “Off and on for years. Took me six years to build it, working on it when I was on leave.”

  “You built it?” She turned in a circle. “You did all of this?”

  “Every last inch.”

  She took a sip of the cool, delicious water. “I’m impressed.”

  He shrugged. “You didn’t see all the mistakes I had to redo.”

  “It’s truly stunning, Rafe. It feels so…” She searched for the right word.

  “Rustic?” he supplied.

  “I was thinking that it feels solid and…right. Like a refuge.”

  His eyes went distant. “It was.”

  “Was?” Then she understood. “I’m intruding.”

  “No.” He studied her, his eyes not quite seeing her. He shook his head. “I would have thought so, but…no.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. She drank again, watching him.

  His gaze lingered. When she lowered her glass, he looked at her mouth.

  They were three feet apart. Oddly breathless, she wondered who would move first.