Caleb cast around for some words of reassurance. He was rusty at any kind of real conversation. The weather, livestock, the cost of feed... He could talk about all that. But he’d learned a long time ago that his own inner world contained troubles too big to share. They stopped conversations. Made everyone look miserable. So he avoided talking about anything heavy. Better to stay on the surface than drown in the depths.
He surveyed the bar, looking for a new topic. They could always talk cattle. Jace had recently purchased an old ranch, and he could go on for hours about the bucking bulls he planned to raise once he got the place fixed up.
A woman sitting at the bar looked familiar. She turned to say something to her companion, and her name hit Caleb like a blow to the gut. Trisha Gilbert. Julie’s best friend growing up, who’d been with her the night of the accident. Who’d survived.
He hadn’t run into Trisha since he’d been home. What was going on? First Maya, and now this? Was there some cruel alignment of the planets that was bringing these women back into his life? He didn’t need reminders of the accident. He had plenty, every day that he lived and his little sister didn’t.
As Caleb watched, Trisha slid off a stool and walked toward the restroom. She moved with a slight limp and Caleb wondered if that was her souvenir from that horrible night. Trisha’s leg had been broken in a couple of places.
The guy she was with—kind of a skinny, ratty-looking dude—glanced furtively around the bar, reached into his pocket, took something out and dropped it in Trisha’s drink.
“Holy hell,” Caleb murmured, taking a few steps forward. He set his beer down on the nearest table, ignoring the protests of its occupants.
“What’s going on?” Jace moved to stand beside him.
Caleb pointed to the bar. “That guy right there? He drugged Trisha’s drink.”
Cold fury flooded Caleb’s system, pressing out from inside his chest, and he was moving, shoving aside chairs and people until he was in front of the ratty man. He grabbed the guy’s collar. “What did you put in it?”
“Get off me,” the guy spluttered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw you,” Caleb ground out, gripping him even harder. “I saw you put something in that drink.”
“Is there a problem?” The bartender, Royce, was Dex’s nephew. Small, young, not much help in a fight.
“This guy spiked his date’s drink.” Jace handed Royce the glass. “Save that. Call the cops.”
Royce eyed the man in disgust and put the drink out of sight, behind the bar. “I’m calling.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.
“I didn’t do anything.” The man’s whine scraped away the last shreds of Caleb’s civility. Men like this hurt women and there were too many of them out there, wreaking havoc. Older guys had gotten Trisha and Julie drunk, the night Julie died. And now this jerk was hoping to do God-knows-what to Trisha.
The idea of some guy targeting Julie, in some future that could never happen, curled Caleb’s fingers tighter around the man’s coat. “Don’t ever come back here.” Caleb pulled him off the stool, shoved him toward the door, once, twice, herding the stumbling, stammering scum.
“Back off,” the man squeaked as he crashed into a table.
Caleb grabbed the weasel one more time and hauled him out into the night.
In the parking lot, the man tried to break free, but Caleb held tight and raised his fist. Trisha could have been his sister. She could have been Julie.
Someone grabbed his hand and forced it down. “Get a hold of yourself,” Jace commanded, low and stern, wrenching Caleb’s arm behind his back. “You’ve done enough.”
The weasel saw his chance and ran for his vehicle.
Headlights lit up the night as a sheriff’s car turned into the parking lot and pulled alongside them. The window lowered to reveal the scowling face of Adam Sears, now Deputy Sears, a friend from high school. “I heard there’s a problem. And look who it is. I should have known I’d find you out here, Caleb.”
It was hard to look dignified when your buddy had you in an arm lock, but Caleb tried. “It’s that guy over there, getting into the silver pickup.”
“Caleb, were you beating on the guy? I warned you last time. No more fights.”
“I just chucked him out of the bar.” The irritation was back, several horseflies now, buzzing wildly in Caleb’s mind. Adam was wasting time while the jerk got away.
Adam shook his head like a disappointed dad. “This wasn’t your problem to solve.”
“I don’t see you solving it.” Caleb tried to break free, but Jace wouldn’t budge. “Why don’t you do your job and stop him before he drives off?”
Adam pointed toward another car pulling into the lot, lights flashing. “He won’t get far. And my job is to keep the peace. Right now that means stopping you from doing anything stupid. I don’t want you back in my jail. I don’t want to charge you with assault. So calm down. Okay?”
Breath coming in ragged gulps, Caleb jerked his head toward the silver truck. “Shouldn’t you be talking to him?”
“I will be. But I also want to talk to you. Tomorrow morning. Meet me at the diner at nine.”
“I’ve got a ranch to run.” No way did he want a heart-to-heart about his wrongdoings with Adam, who made straight and narrow look so easy.
“Just meet him,” Jace said in a low voice. “You’re lucky he’s not arresting you.” He loosened his grip, and Caleb’s arm flopped back down to his side, the blood flooding in with pins and needles.
“Fine.” Caleb’s vision was clearing, the laser focus on his quarry easing. He suddenly noticed all the people who’d followed them out of the bar. They were standing around, gaping at him. Once again, he’d provided the entertainment at Dex’s. He should start charging admission. He glared at Adam. “But you’re buying.”
“Just be there.” Adam finally turned to look at the man who’d tried to drug Trisha. The coward had his hands on the truck while the newly arrived deputy frisked him. Adam took his microphone off the dashboard and his voice blared through the loudspeaker, silencing everyone in the lot. “Okay folks, that’s a wrap. Time to go inside.”
“Show off,” Caleb muttered as Adam drove off across the lot to help arrest the guy. “Come on. I could use another drink. And we should check on Trisha.”
“Hang on.” Jace put a hand on his arm to stop him, jerking it back when Caleb whirled to face him.
“What? Are you gonna give me a lecture too? I’m pretty sure Adam will take care of that tomorrow.”
“C’mon. I’ve known you forever. What is wrong with you?” Jace looked tired all of a sudden, and Caleb remembered everything his friend was dealing with at home. He’d lost his rodeo career, his entire life, when he’d taken on his sister’s kids.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Just saying the words felt like effort. The rage that had powered him into overdrive was fading. Now even the air felt heavy, weighing down muscle and bone.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Jace mimicked. “You sound like a teenager. And I’ve already got one of those in my life. Seriously, what happened? Why are you so angry all the time?”
Where the hell to start? All the problems on the ranch that he couldn’t find the money to repair? The nightmares that stole his sleep? Or he could always blame Afghanistan, and everything that went down in that dusty hellhole.
Talking about that kind of stuff was impossible. So he’d blame the most immediate issue. “A mountain lion has been killing off my sheep. I got a permit, and last night I went out to shoot it. I ran into Maya instead.”
“Maya Burton?” Jace stared. “What was Maya doing near your ranch?”
Haunting him. A beautiful, brainy, scientist-ghost. “She’s some kind of expert on mountain lions. She said she was tracking them.”
“Sounds like she can’t be as smar
t as we all thought if her job involves chasing lions.”
“Maybe.” Caleb glowered, too much feeling coursing through him to appreciate the lame joke. He’d almost killed her. Almost shot her out there, on that trail. “She wants to come by my ranch and tell me how to keep them away.”
Jace blew out a breath. “That doesn’t seem like a great idea. You could tell her you’d rather not.”
“Trust me, I tried. But there are new laws, and apparently listening to her is one of them.” But there was more. Maya wasn’t the only reason to lose it. “Then Trisha tonight...well, it felt almost like someone was trying to hurt Julie.” Caleb ran a hand through his hair, trying to bring his thoughts into some kind of order. “Coming home, being on the ranch, seeing Maya and now Trisha, it just brings it all back.”
“I get it,” Jace said quietly. “I really do. But you’ve got to find a way to keep the past from messing up the present.”
Caleb eyed this new, mature version of his friend. “Not too long ago you would have landed a punch or two yourself.”
“Not too long ago I didn’t have three kids to think about,” Jace countered. “I’ve had to change. Maybe it’s time you grew up too.”
The old sorrow knotted in Caleb’s stomach. “I kind of feel like I grew up a long time ago. But I skipped the fun part and went straight to being the bitter old guy hunched at the end of the bar.”
“You’ve got to get over the things that are eating at you. Adam isn’t going to let you off with a chat over breakfast if this kind of thing happens again. You’re not a Marine anymore. You can’t deal with your problems via combat.”
Jace was right. But sometimes it was hard to stop fighting, after he’d spent so many years doing just that.
Caleb looked over at Adam, still across the parking lot, talking to the other deputy. His old friend had locked him up once already, a few months ago, the day Caleb realized that his dad had stopped paying taxes and the state was about to take possession of the ranch. Caleb had gotten drunk and disorderly at Dex’s as he tried to absorb the news—that his beloved Bar D Ranch, which he’d held in his mind like a precious prize to claim once he’d finished his final tour, was about to slip out of his hands.
He’d never told Adam or Jace the reason for his binge that night. He was too ashamed of the poverty, the way that his family, once respected and influential in Shelter Creek, was about to lose the very ground beneath their feet. Instead he’d sobered up in the drunk tank and gone home to figure out how to save the ranch.
And he had. Sort of. He’d worked out a payment plan with the state that could save the Bar D, eventually. But making those payments was a challenge, especially when the ranch also needed so many repairs. So when a mountain lion had taken a couple of sheep last week, it had felt even more personal than it might have otherwise. Those sheep were Caleb’s only hope of income, his chance to get himself out of this financial mess.
Jace cleared his throat. “Want to see if we’re up at the pool table yet?”
Good old Jace. Knowing when to stop lecturing and have some fun. “Okay.” Caleb clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” Jace pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at it. “I’ve got to be home in an hour. And you should go home then too.”
“Yes, Dad.” Caleb winced as Jace landed a punch to his shoulder. “Ouch. I thought you were a pacifist now.”
“Mostly. But as your friend, it’s still my duty to hit you when you’re being an idiot.”
“Then I guess you’ve got yourself a new punching bag.”
“You’ve got to grow up. I’m serious.”
“I’m grown. I promise.” Caleb followed Jace back into the bar, knowing his friend was right. Adam was right. He had to stop fighting. He had to stop drinking so much. But if he did, what would he have left?
Nothing but troubles he didn’t know how to solve and memories he didn’t want to face.
CHAPTER THREE
MAYA HEAVED HER backpack through Grandma’s front door, inhaling the scent of the lavender sachets Grandma put in every drawer. It was the same smell Maya had noticed when she’d first come to live here as a scared, sad five-year-old. Peace. Comfort. Safety.
Funny how Maya hadn’t noticed the lavender when she’d stopped by briefly on Monday. She’d been too busy trying to figure out how to get away from town again, as fast as possible.
She unlaced her dusty hiking boots and set them back outside on the porch before stepping inside and closing the front door behind her. “Grandma, are you here? I’m home!”
“In the living room!” Grandma Lillian’s voice was light with laughter, and suddenly the meaning of all the cars parked in front of the house sank in. It was Wednesday evening. Grandma’s book club was here. “Come on in and say hello to The Book Biddies,” Grandma called.
Glancing down at her dusty clothes and scraped-up legs, Maya winced. She needed a shower desperately after spending two nights and days on the trail. “I’m really dirty!” she called back.
“Ooh most people don’t admit that outright,” came a sardonic voice Maya didn’t recognize.
A roomful of giggles followed the quip. They must have busted out the drinks already. So many of Grandma’s stories about The Book Biddies involved alcohol, Maya teased her that they should change their name to The Booze Biddies.
“I’m going to shower first!” She made it to the first landing on the stairs before Grandma appeared at the bottom, hands fisted on her hips.
“Maya Burton, are you hiding from a bunch of old ladies?”
“No.” Her face heated. “But I’ve been camping for two nights. I need to get cleaned up.”
“Come say a quick hello. Everyone is so excited to see you. It’s been thirteen years.”
“Exactly. So can’t we wait twenty minutes more? I look terrible.”
“No one cares how you look. And we’re going to get into our book talk soon. Just come?”
Maya’s feet were reluctant weights as she stomped back down the stairs. “I’m probably covered in poison oak and ticks.”
“Then a few of my friends shouldn’t scare you.” Grandma folded her arms across her pink-flowered bosom and set her lips in the stubborn line Maya recognized as the ancestor to hers. “I know you’re anxious about being home again. But my book club is the perfect place to dip your toes in the water.”
“I’m not ready to dip my toes anywhere but the shower.”
“Don’t be silly,” Grandma said and turned around with the confidence that Maya would follow.
Which she did. This was Grandma asking, so she’d do what would make her happy. As she followed her grandmother down the hall, Maya noticed how light on her feet the older woman was. Grandma wore hip fake-leather leggings today, a top covered in pink flowers and sparkly flat shoes. She moved like a much younger woman. Why had she stopped traveling? Why hadn’t she wanted to come see Maya anymore?
Maya had assumed it was because her grandmother was slowing down physically. But she sure didn’t seem slow. She was practically skipping. And judging from the laughter in the next room, Grandma wasn’t lacking in friends. She didn’t seem lonely or depressed.
Just before they reached the living room, Maya paused, heart thumping against her ribs, the air suddenly thin. It was one thing accidentally running into Caleb; it was another to deliberately meet a bunch of people who all knew her past. Maya had never had to do it before. Leaving town so soon after the accident had given her a fresh start where no one knew her story. No one knew that her bad driving had killed her boyfriend’s sister, the town’s sweetheart, Julie Dunne.
Of course Maya knew. Shame and regret ate at the edges of even her best days, and devoured her entirely on others. But she’d never had to be around anyone, except Grandma Lillian, who also knew.
Her heart kicked up anothe
r notch, and Maya inhaled a shaky breath, trying to calm down.
Grandma must have heard, because she paused, her face set and stern. “Chin up,” she said softly. “You can do this. It’s time to stop hiding.”
Maya wasn’t sure about that last sentence. Hiding had served her pretty well for over a decade.
But her grandmother had been so devoted over the years, traveling to see Maya wherever she was. The very least Maya could do was meet her book club friends.
Grandma took Maya by the hand. Wrapped in her soft grip, Maya trailed into the living room behind her, feeling like the lost kid she’d been when Grandma had taken her out of foster care and given her a home.
Once inside the doorway, Grandma released her hand and Maya stepped forward on her own power. She was instantly met with a chorus of “There she is!” and one “Oh my goodness, what happened to you?”
Maybe she should have showered first.
Heart thrumming an uncomfortable bass in her chest, Maya broke through the wall of exclamations. “I’ve been out hiking the past couple of days.” She looked around the room, recognizing most of the women sitting on Lillian’s comfortable sofas but feeling suddenly shy about greeting them. “Hello.”
Grandma gave Maya’s shoulder a quick, bracing squeeze. “Maya was out tracking mountain lions.”
“Why in the world would you want to do that?” A woman in a red sweaterdress, her platinum hair coiled in a perfectly styled chignon, raised her penciled eyebrows.
Grandma gestured in the elegant woman’s direction. “This is Monique Lawrence. She owns Monique’s Miracles. It’s a wonderful salon.”
Not that Maya spent any time at salons. But Grandma was forever hopeful.
“Nice to meet you, Monique,” Maya said.
Monique gave her a beautifully manicured wave. “So nice to finally meet you.”
“Maya!” Mrs. Axel, Maya’s former teacher, heaved herself out of Grandma’s coziest armchair. “How wonderful to see you!”
Reunited with the Cowboy Page 3