The Heart of Falcon Ridge

by DL Roan

  Deputy Marshal Daniel Gregory had been quiet and aloof for the first month of her father’s trial—which took three years longer to conclude than they had promised—but before long he became almost like a father to her. More than her real father had been, anyway. He always made her a cup of hot tea before bed and then sat and talked with her. She’d felt…safe. The long months he was assigned to her had been the only time in the last few years she’d been able to truly sleep.

  He’d also taught her how to become invisible. No social media, use disposable phones, keep your head down, and don’t make eye contact if you don’t have to. That had been the easy part. She’d had enough practice being invisible around her father and his men. It was the constant running and endless state of panic those first days in hiding that had nearly broken her. Not to mention the bullets. Things only got worse from there.

  Once her father’s trial was over, Daniel helped her build a new life, or the start of one. With his help she’d been able to salvage a little of her old life, but she knew she would never be the same inside.

  Gabriella no longer existed and Claira was supposed to be invisible. She didn’t want to be invisible any longer. She wanted to be real, to feel and breathe and love. That’s how she felt when she was with her students. Only then did she matter. Only then could she make a difference.

  Realizing her need and love for children, Daniel had made sure her new background included something in the childcare profession. He couldn’t obtain a counterfeit degree in psychology, and with her new identity she’d lost the credits she’d earned toward her real one, but being a teacher was better than nothing. He’d even set up her interview at Grassland Academy for her.

  I miss him.

  Fighting the urge to pick up her cellphone and call him, she reached up and flipped off the bedside lamp. It took a few moments before her eyes adjusted to the soft light coming from under the closed bathroom door. No, she wouldn’t call him. He’d done so much for her already and it was time she learned to survive on her own. Alone. She’d never felt more alone.

  The second her eyes closed, she saw Mr. McLendon’s cool, green eyes staring back at her.

  Chapter Two

  Grey mumbled a string of curses he hoped his sons couldn’t hear, reaching down to adjust the hard-on in his pants. Despite being repulsed by his carnal attraction to his sons’ newest substitute teacher, he still couldn’t get the image of the woman out of his head; thick, brown curls that hung loose around her angelic face, flirting with her eyelashes. His fingers curled into a fist at the memory, longing to reach up and brush them away from her eyes. And those big doe eyes, like dark chocolate so rich and warm, seemed to see straight through to his very soul.

  When he’d locked gazes with Miss Robbins he’d been besieged with feelings he hadn’t felt in years, and never so strong; protectiveness, possessiveness, pure and undiluted lust. What the hell?

  In direct conflict with his agitation, he chuckled at the memory of her mortified expression when she’d turned and seen them standing in the doorway, along with that ridiculous green paint on her face. He wondered what she’d been thinking at that moment.

  He’d wanted to strangle the principal of that stuffy school for being so condescending to her. Then strangle her for making him care!

  He’d never liked Preston Dawes, even when he was a scrawny, twig-dick, big-nosed, ass kisser in high school. The only reasons he and his brothers enrolled the twins in that uppity school was because their late Aunt Dunny had helped found it, and that’s what their mother would have wanted.

  The McLendon family had been an intrinsic fixture in Grassland since before Montana had joined the Union. They weren’t Silicon Valley rich but, as one of the two founding families, they held the lion’s share of land in the territory. That didn’t make them much in the world, but when they spoke, the people of Grassland listened, and damn if he hadn’t wanted to snap his fingers and have that prick fired.

  Aunt Dunny, rest her soul, would roll over in her grave if she knew that sniveling bigot had been elected to take over as principal of her beloved school, even if only for the last half of the school year. He hated that his kids were around the pretentious asshole at all. If he’d had his way, the boys would be homeschooled, but their schedules wouldn’t allow for it. Ranching meant long, hard days and all hands on deck. Still, he would be reconsidering their choices before the next school year started if Dawes was still there.

  Wonder what the delightful Miss Robbins thinks of the little weasel.

  Grey snorted at the thought, and then stiffened in his seat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as he released another disgusted grumble.

  What did it matter what she thought? He had no business thinking about her, period. He glanced at his boys in the rear view mirror as he pulled out of the pediatrician’s parking lot onto Main Street. God, with every passing day they looked more like Sarah.

  Following the country road that stretched out before him, he tried again to remember their mother’s eyes. They were blue, he knew, but the image that came to mind was nothing but a faint whisper, a feeling more than a memory. He’d already lost her sweet scent, and now he couldn’t remember her eyes!

  He pounded his fist against the steering wheel when the memory refused to surface. She’d been gone only six years and he’d already begun to forget her.

  “You okay, daddy?” Con asked as he handed Car his lollypop the nurse had given them for good behavior at the doctor’s office.

  Grey glanced back at the twins again and saw his own eyes staring back at him. Although they favored his brothers with their sandy brown hair and freckles, he could see himself in their bright green eyes. Only if he looked closely could he see the thin, dark-blue ring around the outside that held their mother’s azure depths.

  “Yeah, I’m okay, boys. Just forgot to pick up the medicine we’re going to need for the puppies.” Grey hated lying to his boys. He hated it almost enough to forgive them their disobedience of the day before and lift the grounding that was to begin as soon as they pulled into their driveway. Almost.

  “Think Bernie will really have the puppies this week?” Car asked, straining against his safety belt to look through the windshield.

  “That’s what Doc Fisher says.” Grey smirked and shook his head. Three mares about to foal, twelve-hundred head of cattle to rotate into the back pasture, a set of twins that can’t hold still for three seconds—he knew because he’d timed it—and now a half dozen or more puppies.

  He could have shot Mason for not having that cur beast of a mutt spayed after he’d talked Grey into keeping her. She was a good herder, though, and great with the twins, so Grey agreed to keep her on. In truth he couldn’t wait to see the boys’ faces when they saw their first litter of puppies being born. He’d never let Mason know that, though.

  “Daddy, can you park at the barn when we get home? I wanna’ go check on her.” Con sat up and looked out the side window as he pulled into their long gravel drive.

  “No sirs. You’re grounded. Remember?” Grey cringed as he heard his poppa Jake’s voice in his head. “No barn, no puppies and no television.”

  “Aww man!” Car bounced his head against the back of his booster seat in protest.

  “You should have thought about that before you two climbed up that old dead tree after we told you not to.”

  He needed to remind Matt about cutting that thing down. With the livestock convention in Billings and getting the feed barn rebuilt after a freak fire had all but destroyed it, there hadn’t been time.

  “But what if she has the puppies before we’re done being grounded? Can we still see ‘em?” Con asked.

  “We’ll see how well you behave and talk about it if it happens. You’re only grounded until Saturday. She might hold out until then.”

  “We’re never gonna’ be done with being grounded,” Car pouted. “Saturday is for-e-ver!”

  Grey smirked as he pulled up and parked his truck near the f
ront of their farmhouse. Yeah, he remembered the feeling. He and his younger twin brothers, Mason and Matt, spent what felt like for-e-ver being grounded, too, when they were that age.

  He helped the boys down from the truck, hiding a smirk as they stomped up the porch stairs and through the front door. He was expecting to hear the screen door slam, but Con turned as it was closing and gently latched it, his bottom lip still stuck out in a pout.

  “What’s got them all in a snit?” Matt asked, lowering the stack of two-by-fours from his shoulder and loading them into the back of Grey’s truck.

  “Grounded,” Grey reminded him.

  Short, sweet and to the point. That was Grey. Lately he’d been just plain grumpy. Matt wondered what or who was stuck up his ass today. “What’d they do this time?”

  “You should know, you were there plucking them out of that tree with me,” Grey grumbled.

  Yeah, he did know, but he didn’t think it merited grounding. Car was curious and rambunctious. Connor was a little quieter, slower and tended to follow Car’s lead like a horse on a bit. That bit tended to land them both into a heap of trouble, but nothing worse than they ever did as kids.

  “Give em’ a break, bro. They were just bein’ boys.” Matt slapped Grey on the back and bounded up the front steps ahead of him. “We’ve gotten into worse scrapes than those two could ever think up. Remember the time we tried to carry that bee hive down to the lake to drown em’? We were younger than they are now. I thought mom would never stop cryin’, and the dads—”

  “Exactly!” Grey shot back without missing a beat or a step as he continued on into the house. “One or all of us could have died from anaphylactic shock if we’d been allergic. Those dead branches could go at any time and those boys could break their neck. When are you going to start acting like an adult and take on some of the responsibility around here? We need to cut that damn tree down for good.”

  Unoffended, Matt reached into the fridge and grabbed two beers, shoving one at his older brother. “Coulda—shoulda—woulda,” he said. “If we lived like that, countin’ all the ways things can go wrong, we’d never get anything done. We lived through it.”

  Matt studied Grey as he sipped his beer. They were talking about more than just bees and dead trees and his big brother knew it. Since Sarah’s death, Grey had all but given up on living any kind of normal life. He’d shut himself away, keeping them and their boys at arm’s length. Oh, Grey loved those boys. Matt had no doubts about that, but they could all see the way he lived in a virtual cage, afraid if he let life in or attempted to live outside the bars, he would lose it all.

  They all loved and missed Sarah. She would have never wanted to see Grey this way. Hell, she’s the one who taught them that to have fun, you had to get a little messy. ‘Life is messy. If it isn’t, then you’re not doing it right’.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Grey said. “They don’t listen, they don’t get to play.”

  “They’re six, Grey. Six! I know you didn’t listen to a damn thing our parents said when you were six.”

  “And I spent almost that whole year in my room, grounded from anything but homework and chores.” Grey took another pull from his beer and leaned against the kitchen cabinet. “Where’s Mason?”

  “Out stackin’ the last of the hay from the east pasture,” Matt said. “He should be finished up in about an hour. We were goin’ to make a run down to the creek with the boys, but I guess that’s out of the question now, since that’s too close to havin’ fun.” He was pushing Grey’s buttons, but someone had to.

  “You’d be right.” Grey gulped down the rest of his beer and set it down with a thud onto the counter before he turned down the hall toward his bedroom. “What time’s dinner?”

  Matt studied Grey’s back as he disappeared down the hall, wondering how far he should push the issue. “Six,” he said and chucked his own empty bottle into the kitchen trash. “Betty Crocker couldn’t make it so I’m stuck peelin’ potatoes again!” he shouted in the general direction Grey had fled. “First I gotta’ get that lumber out to the feed shed and covered up before it rains.”

  He shook his head as he headed back toward the front door, resisting the urge to slam it on the way out. He was going to get through to that man if it was the last thing he did. Who does he think is going to cook the damn dinner? Grey hadn’t touched a pot or pan in six damn years.

  With a frustrated sigh, Matt stormed out the front door, walked around to the side of the house and looked up at the twins’ window. It’d been a long time, but he bet he could still scale a drain pipe.

  He tossed his Stetson onto a nearby tree stump, spit into his palms and rubbed them together. Within seconds he was tapping on the twins’ window, pushing his finger to his lips when they screeched with laughter at his sudden appearance.

  “Shh. Don’t want ya’ gettin’ into any more trouble today.” He loved his boys. He knew Grey was right about holding them accountable for their actions. Probably wasn’t the best idea showing them how to climb out of their second story window, but Grey was being adult enough for all of them. He wanted to go swimming with his boys.

  Chapter Three

  “I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Claira dismissed her class as the clock ticked one minute past three. Her little chat with Principal Dawes that morning had gone exactly as she’d expected, except he hadn’t fired her.

  This is a private academy, Miss Robbins. We expect a higher level of participation from our students, Miss Robbins. We don’t tolerate diversity as other schools might, Miss Robbins. Structure is of the utmost importance, Miss Robbins. I want you to succeed here, Miss Robbins, so please don’t hesitate to come see me should you have any questions about appropriate curriculum.

  She’d kind of liked her new name. Now, she’d be happy if she never heard it again, ever.

  She was still a little shell shocked that she hadn’t been fired. She’d tossed and turned all night, which was nothing new. Stress from the thought of losing her job had made sleep elusive, but once she finally did nod off, her dreams had been haunted by a pair of sexy green eyes. The more she thought about Mr. McLendon’s reaction, the more she was sure that she would be jobless as of seven thirty-one that morning.

  At one point she’d convinced herself that she’d seen passion in his gaze, even if only for a breath of a second. Those desires were wholly foreign to her, having spent her life keeping everyone at arm’s length where they belonged. But oh, how it would feel to have those big, strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her safe. It can’t happen silly girl. Give it up.

  She’d never allowed herself a passionate connection to anyone or anything other than her job. She wasn’t a virgin, barely. She’d had her first and only sexual experience during her freshman year of college with a guy she’d known since third grade. They were both virgins and the whole experience had been awkward and somewhat painful, at best. Soon afterwards he disappeared; literally. The State police combed the surrounding counties for weeks, but found nothing.

  Claira knew. Like everyone else she’d ever loved or cared for, he’d been ‘dealt with’. Since then, she’d bottled her desires and kept all her hopes and dreams of having a family of her own to herself. Until recently, she’d all but forgotten she’d even had desires or dreams.

  “Daddy Matt!” Car yelled out as he ran from his cubby with his shoes in his hands and leapt into the outstretched arms of the most handsome man she’d seen since…yesterday. Dear God! What did they put in the water in this town?

  He was almost the same height as Mr. McLendon, with the same broad shoulders and defined muscular build, but that’s where the similarities ended. Where Mr. McLendon was dark and brooding, with raven hair, this new Adonis had sandy-brown hair that looked as though it had been kissed by the sun and licked by the wind.

  His thin, plaid button-up strained against his biceps as he lifted Carson into his arms. She followed the line of buttons up to an open V of his collar. Her throat closed around the kn
ot that rapidly constricted her airway as she noticed the deep-tanned skin that peeked out from under that V. Her gaze, which seemed to have developed a will of its own, traveled up his thick, corded neck. His sharp jawline and narrow, straight nose accentuated his round and playful eyes which were the color of a hot blue flame. She tried to swallow again, but her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.

  “Hey, Car-Car! What happened to your shoes there, buddy?” Matt sat Carson down and looked up to locate Connor when his gaze locked onto the image of an angel. Every ounce of blood in his body pooled in his groin and the hair on the back of his neck prickled against his skin. Who is that?

  “That’s Miss Robbins,” Connor said as he hopped across the room on one foot, his finger stuck in the back of his shoe as he as he tried to pull it onto his foot. “She’s our new teacher while Mrs. Wittington is out with her new baby.”

  He looked at Con and then back to the angel. Did I ask that out loud?

  “Yes,” the woman answered in a shy whisper.

  Matt’s head whipped around. “Yes what?” He had a feeling the room was going to start spinning at any moment.

  She giggled again, her gaze darting away from him as her cheeks turned a pretty rosy pink. “Yes,” she said again and paced to the blackboard, picking up the eraser. “You asked that out loud.”

  Matt shook his head. What was happening to him? Ordinarily he didn’t have a problem talking with women. He and Mason, and well, Grey too for that matter, hadn’t exactly joined the priesthood since Sarah had passed away, but he’d never been so taken by a woman that he lost the capacity to hold a coherent thought to himself.

  “Sorry,” he said as he walked over and leaned against the blackboard. “I’m Matt McLendon.” He held out his hand, hoping like hell she’d take it. He needed to touch her.

  Her arm froze above her head and he fought like hell not to glance down at her boobs. She finally turned to face him, placing the eraser in his outstretched hand. Tiny. Her hand was small.