Falling for the Rancher

by Roxanne Rustand

Darcy glanced at the rearview mirror. “I’d like to, sweetie. But we have groceries that need to be in the fridge, and it looks like rain. Maybe we can go after supper.”

  “Please?”

  “Later.” Darcy pulled to a stop at the next corner and turned right.

  The flowers at the base of the stop sign were as still as a watercolor painting, ominous for all their beauty. The leaves on the trees were motionless.

  The birds were silent.

  Darcy flipped through the radio channels as she drove the last few blocks to their house, catching only snatches of music and talk shows.

  No one on the radio seemed concerned. It was probably nothing. Maybe just a front blowing through.

  But as she drove slowly up Cranberry Lane, past the stately brick homes that overshadowed her own little cottage, she began to see curtains pulled back to reveal worried faces and a few of the neighbors standing outside with hands on their hips, staring up at the sky.

  At home, she drove into the garage, grabbed the groceries and Emma and hurried into the house, clicking the garage door closed with the remote on her key ring. Even here, the towering oaks were motionless.

  Lightning cracked in the distance, followed by a long roll of thunder.

  Bonnie scrabbled at the back door as Darcy unlocked it. She raced outside, then threw herself at the door to come back in.

  As soon as the door reopened, she came in with her tail tucked and pressed herself against Darcy’s leg.

  Emma wrapped her arms round the dog. “I’m scared, Mommy. Bonnie is, too.”

  “It’s okay—I promise. We’ve got a nice, safe basement, so we can go down there if the weather gets worse, and there haven’t been any sirens going off, so—”

  A low, piercing siren split the air, rising to an earsplitting high note, then slowly undulating. Another siren began in some other part of town, and the discordant wails sent a shiver down Darcy’s spine.

  “That’s our cue, sweetheart. Let’s go.” On her way to the stairs, Darcy shoved her cell phone in her pocket, then grabbed her purse, a flashlight and the old-fashioned portable radio Aunt Tina had always kept on top of the fridge. She took Emma’s hand and descended the steep, narrow wooden stairs with Bonnie close at her heels.

  At the bottom, she pulled the cord dangling in front of her to turn on a single bank of fluorescent lights over the washer and dryer.

  Emma trembled. “I don’t like it down here, Mommy. It’s scary.”

  It wasn’t a place Darcy enjoyed much, either. The house had been built in the 1900s and no doubt remodeled many times, but the four basement walls were original—constructed of massive, uneven stones held together with cement, and the floor was perpetually damp.

  As a child she’d thought it reminiscent of a dungeon in some spooky, medieval castle, but during the intervening years, Aunt Tina had painted the walls a stark white. It was less gloomy now, though the lights still threw dark shadows in the corners where anything in a little girl’s imagination might hide.

  Darcy squeezed Emma’s hand and smiled. “Do you know what? Even with a dehumidifier, it’s too damp down here ever to finish off as a family room, but I think I’ll put another coat of white on the walls and have a lot more lights installed. At least it will be nicer if we have to come down here again during a storm.”

  Emma wrapped her arms around Bonnie’s neck. “Can we go back upstairs yet?”

  Rain and hail battered at the narrow basement windows. Lightning flashed and thunder roared and a loud crack! shook the house, sending dust swirling down from the floor joists above their heads.

  At the far side, cement steps led up to the sloped cellar doors leading to the backyard. They’d been padlocked for as long as Darcy remembered, and she’d never tried to open them, but now they rattled and bucked against the high winds, the hinges squealing.

  Logan.

  His name slammed into her thoughts. A warning, a plea. Where was he? What if he hadn’t answered his phone because he was lying somewhere hurt, unable to call?

  Or maybe he’d already been arrested and extradited back to Montana—though she had no idea if such things could happen that fast.

  Thinking about his sharp comment and remembering Dean’s temper, she’d assumed the worst about his behavior. She hadn’t tried calling again.

  She felt her heart wrench.

  If something bad had happened, she hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. Then again, maybe it was just this weather giving her such dark thoughts.

  Now the screaming of the warning sirens competed with the strident wailing of emergency vehicles, and Darcy’s heart pounded.

  Ten minutes later, silence fell.

  Emma hugged her dog tighter and looked up, her eyes round and frightened. “Is our house okay, Mommy?”

  “I think so. Just take my hand while we go up.”

  Darcy slowly made her way up the stairs and opened the door into the kitchen.

  The sky was starting to lighten, but the wind still sent buffets of rain against the windows. She walked through the house, checking the windows for damage and surveying the yard, with Emma and Bonnie close at her heels.

  “The house seems fine, but I’ll need to stand outside to see if we lost any shingles. Look here—out the front window.”

  A massive oak lay uprooted in the neighbor’s yard, blocking his drive and most of the street. One branch had broken away the front porch.

  Power lines lay in tangles on the street beneath its upper branches and were sparking and snapping between the neighbor’s house and the next one down.

  “They won’t be going anywhere soon.” Darcy flicked a light switch. Sure enough, the power was out. “But our drive is clear, and none of the power lines are compromised at the other end of the block, so I believe we can get out safely. I’m going to try.”

  Emma’s eyes filled with worry. “Where are we going?”

  “I need to check on Logan, so you get to play with Mrs. Spencer for an hour or so. I just don’t want...” Darcy hesitated. “I just want you to have some fun for a while. It’ll be really boring if you come with me.”

  The rain slowed, then stopped. She glanced at her cell phone again. No calls, no texts. But of course not—she would have heard the alert.

  She called 911 for police assistance to check on the neighbors, and the power company to report the downed wires.

  Biting her lower lip, she tried calling Logan again. No answer. Then she dialed Mrs. Spencer.

  If Logan no longer cared about her, so be it.

  But she had to make sure he wasn’t lying injured somewhere at his place and in need of help. And if he was, she couldn’t waste another minute. Please, Lord, let him be all right.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The streets were clear to Mrs. Spencer’s house, though after Darcy dropped off Emma and headed out of town, she encountered numerous uprooted trees and heavy branches blocking the streets.

  After zigzagging through town to avoid the blockages and power company utility vehicles, she finally made it onto the county road leading out to Logan’s. The damage was even greater out here, cutting a swath heading to the northeast through the heavy timber.

  At the lane leading up to his place, she repeatedly had to get out of her car to drag heavy branches to one side. Up around the house and barn, the damage was worse.

  Several large pines had toppled over in his yard, and one had broken through the fence. Another one had landed on roof of his house at a crazy angle, and it looked as if some of the branches had crashed through the shingles and into the attic.

  “Logan?” She ran toward the barn, calling his name, then surveyed the corrals. Not even the horses were in sight, though when a whinny echoed from the barn, she found just the bay gelding in a box stall. At the house, she jerked op
en the front door and ran through the rooms, searching for him to no avail.

  His truck was still in the garage. But it didn’t appear that he’d left for Montana on his own volition or otherwise.

  His billfold and truck keys lay on the kitchen counter. A plate on the counter held a raw steak, ready to grill. Where in the world was he? And where was his dog?

  Every doubt she’d had about him, every nonchalant thought about easily walking away from him after that last tumultuous encounter, all dissolved, leaving her feeling bruised and empty.

  She didn’t need explanations or apologies or even promises...she just needed to find him and make sure he was all right. Nothing else mattered.

  Because Logan Maxwell had truly stolen her heart.

  * * *

  Exhausted, Logan rubbed his free hand over Drifter’s muddy neck and continued the litany of reassurances that he no longer believed.

  State forest backed up to his secluded place on three sides, his driveway was long, and traffic was rare on the county road passing his property.

  If not for the rusty mailbox, a stranger driving past wouldn’t even know his place existed, much less think to traverse his twenty acres of timber and meadow unless hunting illegally. And without any phone reception out here in this hilly terrain, there was no way to call for help.

  So he was here alone, except for his injured horse and a dog that kept running off. He would hear Cedar barking her head off somewhere, and then she’d come back, even during the worst of the storm today. If she was hunting, she hadn’t brought back any evidence of prey, but she’d looked more weary with every trip into the forest.

  If he even moved a few feet, his beloved Drifter would bleed out. So he’d stood beside her to compress her wound and keep her still, and tried to keep the sharp branch impaled in her chest from moving. The miracle was that it hadn’t severed a major artery...yet.

  There was nothing else he could do unless someone happened by—as improbable as seeing a penguin toddle past—except for mulling over the stupid things he’d done in his lifetime and wishing he had another chance to do them right.

  And he could pray.

  Since last night he’d had plenty of time for that.

  He’d started out angry at God last night for taunting him with the inevitable loss of his beloved mare, right after he’d walked out on the best thing in his life. Darcy.

  Though he still counted himself a believer, for years his rebellious heart had refused the thought of prayer in a time of need. Why bother? His prayers had sure never been answered before when it mattered most.

  He’d prayed relentlessly, tearfully, as a teenager when Dad had his heart attack and died. Had prayed desperately when Mom died months afterward. And during the long months of Gina’s illness, he’d begged God to save her.

  None of his prayers had saved the people he loved.

  But today he’d stood out in the forest through a fierce storm, with lightning crashing all around him, refusing to give up on Drifter’s life. And in his exhaustion and desperation during those interminable hours, the words of his family’s pastor nudged at him, prodded at the wall of ice around his heart. God created this world and the laws of nature that exist. He doesn’t want terrible things to happen...he doesn’t cause them, Logan. But when they strike, he wants to surround us with his loving arms and give us strength, and hope, and peace. And the people around you are an answer to your prayers.

  As the hours passed, he finally began to understand how wrong he’d been about those prayers. God had answered in other ways. The wonderful, supportive hospice staff. The friends and family who had hovered like angels to offer loving comfort. Who had stepped up to help with the harvest, the cattle, the horses, and helped Susan and him deal with the deluge of decisions that followed.

  From far away came the sound of Cedar barking. Barking. Barking. Slowly coming closer. But it was a different sound this time—more agitated.

  If she was after a badger or other fierce wild prey, there wouldn’t be a thing he could do to help her. Please, Lord, bring someone to help me...and please keep that foolish dog safe.

  She fell silent. Then he heard her crashing through the brush close by.

  And this time, there were footsteps behind her.

  * * *

  If she hadn’t heard Cedar’s frantic barking, Darcy never would’ve known which way to go. She pulled to a halt the moment she saw Logan and his mare.

  Drifter was caught in a tangle of downed pine trees, with an undoubtedly sharp broken branch protruding from her chest.

  Pale, clearly exhausted and weaving on his feet, Logan was holding that branch steady and stemming the flow of blood from a wound on her neck that might well have sliced an artery, given its position.

  She instantly assessed the situation. “One of us needs to stay. The other needs to bring back the right equipment—stat. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “I need to stay and keep her stable.”

  Darcy had never run so fast in her life, through the brush. Picking up random deer trails. Praying. She made it to the clinic and back in under an hour, laden with everything she could carry that they might need.

  After delivering an intravenous sedative, she spread a sterile surgical drape on the ground and laid out her instruments, surgical gloves and a bag of sterile saline for flushing the wounds. “You or me?”

  “It had better be you. I’m not sure I could even hang on to a scalpel right now.”

  Within an hour she’d meticulously cleaned the wounds. Repaired the neck injury.

  Sutured the inner layers of the gaping chest wound, and sutured what she could of the outer layer. After delivering an intramuscular dose of long-acting antibiotic, she gathered up her equipment and rolled it up into the surgical drape.

  “It’s the best I can do out here without better light,” she said, giving Logan a closer look. He was muddy and streaked with blood. Given the gash on one cheekbone, some of that blood was his own. His shirt was torn, and from what she could tell, he was barely staying on his feet. “You look awful. Why don’t you start home? When Drifter is more alert, I can lead her back to the barn.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “No, you should go. There’s no way I can carry you home if you collapse, and I doubt the EMTs could get here anytime soon. They probably have their hands full with all that happened in town.”

  “How bad was it?”

  “I saw a lot of trees down, some damaged roofs. But I just saw a part of town on my way out here, so I don’t know about the other areas. There were a lot of sirens.”

  “Your house okay?”

  “Good. But yours didn’t fare quite as well. There’s a tree down on your roof, and another one broke your fence line.”

  He nodded. “That corral fence went down in the storm last night. Charlie was easy to catch, so I put him in the barn, but Drifter was still racing around in the yard. I opened the pasture gate in case she headed that way. Figured I could get her into the barn that way, but lightning struck close by and she just kept running until she crashed into this.”

  “Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve come right away.”

  “I figured helping me would be the last thing on your mind. A little later on I came to my senses and figured at least you might send someone else, but then I realized that there’s no reception out here. If I left her, she might’ve bled to death.”

  Darcy wanted to shake him. “You angrily misconstrued what I said to Marilyn at the clinic. You gave me no chance to explain, and then you walked away. But I certainly would have helped you anyway. That’s what friends do. But just so you know, Dean acted like that all the time, and I’ll never, ever go through that again. Not with anyone. So—”

  She faltered to a stop and took another hard look at him. His gaze veered away
.

  “Wait. You did that on purpose?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Why?” She thought back over the last few weeks. Despite her resolution not to become romantically involved with anyone after her disastrous marriage, she’d thought she and Logan were becoming closer. She’d even kissed him. Twice. But clearly he hadn’t shared her feelings. He’d been trying to get rid of her, for goodness’ sake. Embarrassment burned through her. “Never mind. I can guess.”

  “Look, you’ve built a good life for yourself. You don’t deserve to be mixed up in my problems,” he said wearily. “You have no idea what it’s like. The rumors. The doubts. Even after you’re proven innocent, people figure you’re guilty and just got off easy. It’s why I finally left my last practice. And now, apparently it has caught up with me here.”

  So this wasn’t about a brush-off, then. He’d been trying to protect her? In a completely awkward and somehow endearing way, but still.

  “Look. I’m sorry that your ex-girlfriend is trying to stir up trouble. I’m sorry that you might need to go back to Montana to prove her wrong and get this straightened out. But I know from the bottom of my heart that you’re totally innocent. I know what kind of man you are, and none of that stuff in Montana matters. I just hope it can be straightened out for good, so you’ll never have to deal with it again.”

  A faint smile crooked one side of his mouth. “I have it on good authority that the morning crowd at the cafe all want to be my character witnesses. One old duffer even offered to take up a collection for my defense.”

  “That would be Wally. Purple shoes?”

  “Yep—and he also promised to send me prison mail if things don’t work out.”

  She laughed. “After a slow start with the locals, it sounds like you’ve won them over, after all. Just think. You’ve got an excellent staff at your clinic. A devoted following in the over-eighty crowd, and a dog smart enough to go for help. She came and got me, you know. I was headed the wrong away and she kept barking and trying to lead me here.”

  Drifter’s ears flickered. She raised her head a few inches as she started to coming out of the sedation. Logan stroked her neck. “About the future...”