Her Lone Cowboy

by Patricia Forsythe

  Monette stood and walked over to examine the calendar clipped to the refrigerator door. It still showed the page for April. That was when she’d learned that Laney and her son would be moving. It was also when she’d heard the news about little Lily Morales and realized she’d made a terrible mistake in not being more vigilant in overseeing that case. She couldn’t let that happen to Sam Reynolds.

  A thrill of accomplishment shot through her. She had remembered to call him by the right name. Maybe she had been a little bit overwhelmed by work. Monette knew she was the best case worker, the best Department of Child Safety specialist, in the county. Susan was wrong. She didn’t need a vacation and she would prove it.

  The new rules specified the type of meeting she needed to have with Susan before proceeding with the Reynolds case. Monette knew exactly how to present it, and how to present herself, so that the danger to Sam was obvious.

  With a clear sense of purpose, she turned back to the file box. Everything about the paperwork on this case would be perfect. She wouldn’t fail.

  * * *

  THE MEMBERS OF Fire Team 8 studied the map spread out on the hood of a pickup. Laney and the members of her team were preparing to go in as other teams straggled in off the line. Exhausted, red-eyed and dirty, the captains stopped to share information about the wildland fire that had been started by lightning and, fueled by high winds, had spread more quickly and erratically than anyone liked.

  “Here and here,” Kebra said, tapping two places on the map. “Laney, Shelley and Marie, you take the west side. Katie, Leigh and I will take the east. We’ll work toward each other. There are hot spots everywhere and underbrush that’s been drying out for years. Perfect fuel for this nightmare, so watch out and keep within sight of each other.”

  The team nodded in agreement, checked their own equipment and each other’s and headed out.

  Laney was grateful to Caleb for taking care of Sam. It was a relief to know that she wouldn’t have to worry about her son. She was even more relieved that this job required all her attention, giving her less time to think about Caleb. She couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  The team fell to work, setting backfires to clear the underbrush and creating clear areas on each side of the road in the hope that the fire wouldn’t make the leap across.

  With her partners, Laney worked her way down a slope. Intent on the ground she was clearing, she didn’t notice what was happening in the top of the trees until Shelley shouted, “Laney, look out!”

  She jerked up her head and saw that the fire was crowning, with flames licking and leaping from one treetop to the next. Whirling around, she grabbed for her radio as she called out to Shelley and Marie, “Let’s get out of here.”

  The three of them started running with Laney attempting to radio a warning to the other half of their crew. She didn’t see the tree root that sent her sprawling. As she scrambled to her feet, she heard a loud crack. She looked up in time to see a flaming branch plummeting toward her.

  * * *

  TWO NIGHTS LATER Caleb stood on his porch, staring across the expanse of pasture to Laney’s house. He’d moved outside where he could at least hear crickets chirping and the occasional bawling of his cattle, because he couldn’t stand the quiet of his house any longer. Forty-eight hours with a little boy who sang at the top of his lungs whenever water was running, who had conversations with his toys, the dog, the horses, anything that stood still for a moment, who noticed absolutely everything and commented on it, made the current silence of Caleb’s home unbearable.

  Caleb’s walking cast had been replaced by a removable brace, which had made it easier for him and Sam to go all over the ranch together, either on horseback or in the truck.

  Vivian and Frank Crown had picked their grandson up a few hours ago, and Caleb had been at loose ends ever since.

  Normally, he would have found a dozen different things to keep himself occupied, but none of them appealed to him. He’d had fun looking after Sam, the most fun he’d had in years. He was accustomed to looking after others—his younger cousins, soldiers, cattle, horses—but it had been a long, long time since he’d been responsible for anyone or anything like Sam, with his four-year-old’s egocentric view of the world.

  Caleb was trying to figure out how he’d stood the silence of his life up until now. Sam’s presence had helped him in other ways, too. His nightmares had calmed down, barely troubling his sleep, and he’d been gratified to discover he hadn’t cried out in his sleep, something that would surely have awakened and terrified Sam. Now that the little boy was gone, Caleb didn’t know how that would affect his sleep. Even Bertie seemed unhappy, following Caleb around and collapsing at his feet with a woeful sigh whenever Caleb stayed put for a few minutes, as if Sam’s absence was too much for him to bear, too.

  Except for today, Caleb had talked to Laney every day since she’d been gone. She’d called to see how Sam was, but now that the boy was with his grandparents Caleb didn’t think she’d call again. He wished she’d get home so he could see for himself that she was all right.

  As if his thoughts had conjured her up, a light snapped on at her house. Without even thinking, Caleb turned, shooed Bertie back inside and grabbed his truck keys. He closed the front door behind him as he left.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  WITHIN MINUTES HE was pulling up behind her Jeep, knowing that if he’d given himself any time to think about what he was doing, he wouldn’t have come. But he made a point of not thinking about it, not analyzing things as he usually did, and simply went with it.

  Hurrying up her back porch steps, he rapped at the door and then stood back in shock when she swung it open.

  Red-eyed and exhausted, she looked up at him. “Oh, Caleb. Hello.”

  “What happened?” he demanded, stepping into her kitchen, his gaze fixed on her neck. “Have you been hurt?”

  There was nothing she could do except step back hurriedly and let him in. Her hand shot up to cover the area where he was looking, but he was quicker.

  He grabbed her wrist and held it. “No,” he said. “Let me see.”

  She didn’t resist as he turned her toward the kitchen light to better see the long, angry red burn that ran across her neck and collarbone, disappearing below the edge of her white T-shirt. Without a word, he eased down the shirt to see the full injury.

  “Caleb,” she said, protesting, trying to pull from his grip, to cover her burn.

  He again moved her hand, but held on to it this time. “How bad is it?” he asked, his dark gaze piercing hers, demanding she tell him everything.

  “First-degree burn. The doctor says it’ll probably heal without leaving a scar. The challenge is going to be hiding it from Sam—and from my mom and dad—until it looks better. The bandage was coming loose, so I took it off. I’ve got to shower and then I’ll put medicine on it again. The paramedic said for me to leave the bandage off and let the air get to it as much as possible.”

  “Go take your shower. I’ll doctor it when you’re done.” Caleb kept his voice low and calm, hoping she wouldn’t see how her injury was affecting him. “Have you eaten?”

  “No. I was going to get a bowl of cereal or...”

  “I’ll fix something. Go.”

  Her eyes flashed at him. She wasn’t used to being bossed around in her own kitchen. “Caleb, that isn’t necessary. I can take care of myself.”

  Anger flared. “I don’t think so. You can barely stand up.”

  Her lips pressed together as she looked at him, obviously weighing the merits of continuing the argument. He gave her his best bad-ass-sergeant glare and she backed down, turning in a huff to stalk from the room. The stalking would have been more effective if she hadn’t been barefoot and still wearing the baggy pants to her firefighters’ turnout. Seeing her sassy annoyance with him calmed him. If she was d
efying him, she wasn’t seriously hurt.

  Relieved, he turned to examine the contents of her refrigerator. Luckily, his limited cooking skills stretched to scrambling eggs and making toast, so that’s what he did. He also found several kinds of herbal teas in the cabinet, read the labels, and chose one that said it was relaxing. He made Laney a cup, though his examination of the teabag made him think he was brewing chopped grass clippings. He decided that she wouldn’t have it in her cabinet if she didn’t like it.

  He was putting the food on the table when she returned, fluffing her long, damp hair with her fingers. She was wearing a loose, red T-shirt and pajama pants printed with high heels, pouty red lips and perky hair bows—things he knew she’d never wear in the flesh.

  His gaze swept over her as he wondered if she had on any underwear beneath that get-up. As if she didn’t look luscious enough, a wave of the honeysuckle scent he always associated with her rolled in, nearly sending him to his knees.

  Involuntarily a strangled sound came from his throat and she looked up. “Something wrong?”

  “Uh, no. No,” he said hastily, turning away, picking up a pot holder and putting it down again. “Sit.” He hooked his finger through the handle of the tea mug and carried it to the table.

  She looked at him again and then at the table. “Oh, this is great.”

  Her eyes brightened when she saw the tea and he felt quite pleased with himself to have thought of it.

  “Thanks so much, and thanks again for taking care of Sam until my parents came back.” Her eyes met his. “I never worried about him for a second.”

  “It was fun,” he said gruffly, wondering when the last time was that he’d used that word. He pulled out a chair and sat opposite her as she picked up her fork and dug into the eggs. “And I didn’t have to wonder where he’d gotten himself off to since he was never more than two feet away from me, except when he was asleep on the couch with Bertie.”

  She smiled. “He loved the whole adventure of staying with you. I don’t think he missed me at all.”

  “Believe me, he missed you. If I didn’t read Goodnight Moon to him exactly the way you did, he made me read it again.” Caleb paused, his eyes on her. “I’ve got that book memorized.”

  “Join the crowd.”

  He watched her take several sips of tea before he said, “Okay, enough stalling. Tell me how you got that burn.”

  She gave a small shrug and picked up her fork again. “Wasn’t watching what I was doing. The fire started crowning, jumping from one treetop to another. We scrambled to get out of the way, but I tripped and fell and a branch landed on top of me. No one else was hurt, so the whole thing was a non-incident.”

  Caleb thought it was more than that, but he didn’t pursue it. He was so pathetically grateful that she was home safe. He relaxed, settling back in his chair and stretching out his legs, then realized with a jolt it was the first time since he’d been wounded that he’d done that without carefully gauging whether or not it would hurt. Another benefit to hanging around this Reynolds pair. They’d made him forget himself, had drawn him out, made him part of their lives.

  As she ate the eggs and toast he’d prepared, Laney continued talking, telling him about the fire she had come from, the people on her team and the fires they’d fought together previously. He listened and didn’t interrupt. Talking when they were tired, this was something he’d noticed Sam did, and apparently, it was something he’d inherited from his mom. Most people got quiet, but these two talked. They might have dark bruises of exhaustion under their eyes, but they had plenty to say, and he didn’t mind listening.

  Caleb was fascinated to see Laney so vulnerable. Except for the time she’d fallen off the hay bales and knocked the wind out of her lungs, he hadn’t seen her like this. She was always the one in charge, the one taking care of everything and everyone.

  As she spoke, she gestured with her hands. He watched them; the graceful way her fingers fluttered as she described how the fire had looked skipping from pine to aspen to oak. He remembered how they had felt running over his skin, not hesitating to touch the scars he’d feared would have repulsed any woman.

  But Laney Reynolds wasn’t any woman. She went from teaching school to fighting fires to caring for her son to finding ways to improve his life whether he wanted her to or not, yet he had never seen her this spent.

  She finally wound down about the same time her cup was empty. She shook her head when he asked if she wanted more tea.

  “You need to get some sleep,” he said, gathering up the dishes. He washed them quickly and put them in the drainer. “Now, what do you have to put on that burn?”

  “The medic gave me some cream. It’s in my bag. I’ll get it.”

  “Stay there,” he said, hauling out the sergeant’s voice again. “I’ll get it.”

  She blinked at his commanding tone, but seemed content to stay where she was. He was back in a few minutes with some cotton swabs and the tube of unguent. Uncapping it, he squeezed some onto a swab and gave her an expectant look.

  Laney’s gaze shot up to meet his as she reached up and swept her damp hair aside to give him access to her neck. It made him recall what it had been like to kiss her there.

  Wondering what kind of sick jerk he was to think about that when she was this worn out and injured, he carefully doctored the burn then stood back. He didn’t want to leave her alone tonight. Maybe he should offer to sleep on the couch. He wondered how she would take that suggestion.

  “Time for bed...” For some reason his voice broke on the word. He cleared his throat, frowned and said, “Lock up after me.”

  Turning, he started for the back door, picturing escape from her disturbing presence and the long night that loomed ahead of him. He heard her chair scrape as she stood. Good, she was going to lock the door after him.

  “Caleb?” Her voice was soft, questioning.

  Without turning to look at her, he said, “Yes?”

  “Why don’t you lock the door...but stay on this side of it?” When he looked back at her, she read the confusion in his face and quickly said, “I would feel better if you stayed. You can sleep on the couch.”

  His mouth went dry even as blood rushed to his head. “Laney, you’re tired, don’t...”

  “Don’t tell me don’t.” She took a step toward him, lifting a hand, palm out, as if to ward off any more of his objections. “I keep saying that, but you won’t listen.” She smiled. “It’s been a hard week and I wouldn’t mind some company.”

  Feeling helpless, exposed, he shook his head. “Laney, this may not be a good idea.”

  “Caleb, I do everything mostly by myself. Every day I take care of myself and my son, and everything that needs to be done. I don’t mean to seem like I’m coming on to you. I only want to know someone else is here.”

  She correctly read the hesitation in his eyes. With a gentle smile curving her lips, she said, “Caleb, when have I ever asked for your help?”

  “Um, never.”

  “Even when I needed someone to look after Sam, I didn’t ask you. You volunteered.”

  He frowned, wondering where she was going with this. “And...?”

  “And I think we’re good enough friends now that I can ask you to stay with me tonight. I only need some company.”

  He stood, bonded in place as if he had no will of his own. When she reached him, she put out one of those hands he’d been admiring and intertwined her fingers with his. “I don’t really know why, but I don’t want to be alone in this house tonight. I’ll fix you a bed on the sofa.”

  Caleb felt his breath hitch in his chest. She was right. She had never asked him for anything; mostly because she was so busy telling him what to do.

  “Sure, Laney. I can do that. The couch will be just fine,” he said and was rewarded with a sparkling smile.
<
br />   * * *

  LANEY DRIFTED IN SLEEP, her mind as peaceful as her body was relaxed, until she heard a low, anguished sound of distress and her eyes flew open. Instantly she knew where she was and what was happening. Strangled, incoherent words came from the living room. Caleb was having a nightmare. Scrambling out of bed, she pulled on her robe and tied the belt as she rushed to his side. His arm thrashed around and he called out in his sleep, words she couldn’t quite make out, but she understood the urgency behind them.

  She snapped on the lamp at the end of the sofa and turned, reaching over to place her hands on his shoulders. “Caleb, wake up.”

  His eyes flew open, but he didn’t see her, only the threat he thought she presented. His hands came up between them and swung outward to free him from her grip. He slammed her backward against the sofa pillows and loomed over her, his arm coming up to press against her throat. The hard set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes were terrifying—and all the more so because she knew he wasn’t aware of what he was doing.

  “Caleb!”

  Her cry of alarm broke through to him. He blinked, focused on her, and his face spasmed. He looked around frantically, as if trying to understand where he was.

  He released her immediately. His eyes were dark with lingering trauma and then with sorrow and apology. “Laney, I’m so sorry. Are you all right? Did I scare you? I would never hurt you, I...”

  “I know that,” she said, scrambling away from him and standing. “I’ll get you some water.”

  “I don’t need any, Laney,” he said as she hurried from the room.

  Maybe he didn’t need any water, but she did, and she needed a few minutes away from him. In the kitchen, she grabbed a glass, filled it with water and downed several gulps before her pounding heart began to slow and she could clear her thoughts.

  She wasn’t afraid of Caleb Ransom, but she was afraid of the ruthless warrior he’d been in his dream and acted out on her. Knowing she couldn’t let him think she was afraid of him, she refilled the glass and took it to him.