Rough Road Home (The Circle D series)

by Harders, Audra

  His vision blurred making the already snow-mottled landscape become fog white. The doc said to expect vision problems for a while. As he rubbed his eyes, he shook his head. Great. He and Rachel rode in the same vision-impaired boat.

  “Something wrong? Are you feeling okay?” Rachel clung to the wheel, her gaze darting between him and the road. “Do we need to stop?”

  “No,” he gritted out as he forced his fists down to his lap. “Just snow blind, I guess. It’ll clear up in a minute.”

  “Good. I don’t know what I’d do with you if you passed out now.” She reached for the stick and shifted into compound low. The engine bucked, then continued to trudge through the snow. “I can’t even tell if we’re passing towns. Good thing a snow plow’s been by. The road’s filling up fast, but at least I can still follow the tracks.”

  Nick blinked his vision clear and squinted. He’d lost his sunglasses somewhere along the line. They’d sure have been handy. Up ahead, he saw the red and blue flash of snowplow lights.

  “Looks like we have company.” As his shoulders relaxed, he realized he’d been just as nervous as her.

  “The Lord does provide,” her voice trailed off as her hands loosened their grip on the steering wheel. “I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep up.” She glanced at the seat between them. “My player must be packed in the back.”

  Rachel turned to her MP3 player and earbuds whenever tension arose. A dependence thing he couldn’t quite equate with the rest of her take charge personality. “Does it really help that much?”

  She sat silent for a moment. “I didn’t think so at first, but I didn’t want to hurt Uncle Mitch’s feelings. I started by listening to the music to relax.” A dimple showed in her cheek. “I’m a fan of country music; classical didn’t really thrill me. Thrills weren’t what I was after though, and it didn’t take long for Mozart and Bach to grow on me.”

  “So, music soothes the savage beast, so to speak?”

  “The music is a part of it. I still had a hard time letting go of the tension that put me on leave to begin with, you know, forgetting that I’m only human. Each time I thought about a stock option I’d missed, or purchase opportunity that hadn’t panned out, I internalized it, I’d let my clients down. When my stress level rose, my muscles contracted until my entire body ached. Music relaxed me, so I clung to that one facet and refused to give the whole ministry a chance.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Nothing, intentionally.” They caught up with the snow plow and Rachel guided the truck into the newly plowed tracks. “One evening, I clicked on the wrong track and ended up listening to the parable of the shepherd counting his sheep only to find one missing. He left his flock and searched high and low for that one sheep, then rejoiced when he finally found it.”

  She turned and looked at him, her green eyes shining. “I knew that one sheep was me.”

  Nick listened, stunned at her confession. Was that happening to him? Was God calling out? Or was his guilt finally getting the best of him?

  “That’s quite the statement. Most times, people use religion as a convenient answer, only to find it doesn’t answer anything. Are you sure you have a handle on your problems? Maybe you just need a different direction.”

  “I did need a different direction; that’s what God was trying to tell me. I had become so engrossed in climbing the ladder of success, I didn’t realize how far from the Truth I’d fallen. I had fragmented my life, conveniently putting priorities in my own order. In my heart, I believed Jesus had died for my sins, and that’s exactly where I kept my faith. Locked safely away. But, Jesus wanted more. He wanted the whole enchilada.”

  Color flushed in her cheeks as she rubbed her palm across the back of her neck. “There’s a verse in Philippians that says, I can do all things through Christ who guides me. Well, I might have called myself a Christian before, but there was very little Christ in my life. Listening to the Scripture lesson helped me see that life in Christ is better than a life away from Christ any day.”

  “So, you’re turning your whole life around based on a few weeks of Bible study?” Nick tamped down the most cynical of his opinion, but couldn’t contain it all. He’d been raised in the church all his life, yet when the tide crashed, he hadn’t been thrown a life preserver. The night before, he’d poured over the verses in the hospital issue Bible for hours, despite the frequent checks made on him by nurses and orderlies. He’d felt the familiar tug on his heart, yet the answers he sought evaded him.

  Why? Why had she died? Life just didn’t make sense, but then, whoever said it would? “Don’t fool yourself, Rachel, people don’t change that drastically. Even if you’re bent on total commitment, it’s not that easy.”

  “No one ever said the narrow path was the easiest.” She slowed the truck to give the snowplow a greater lead as gravel spit out at them. “I gave too much of myself to work. I’d lost who I was because everything I did had to do with trading and building a better, more powerful portfolio.” She shrugged. “Essentially, I had a stress meltdown, a lot like when an alcoholic hits bottom. Only when I hit bottom was Christ able to do something with me.”

  “What’s He doing with you, Rachel?” Curiosity pricked his cynicism. He wanted to know, yet not. Devotion required effort. Effort messed with his concentration. He couldn’t afford many more trips to the hospital.

  “Christ gave my life back to me.”

  “To do what?” he pressed. “Make money?”

  She nodded. “God gave me that gift, to help others manage their treasures. Plus, I enjoy my career. But I’m going back with a different perspective. The Lord is my Shepherd and this sheep doesn’t plan on losing her way again. I’ll not neglect my spiritual life, I plan to do more with it. Uncle Mitch hauls stock around and works for the Cowboy Church. I don’t see why I can’t trade stock and work for my church, too.”

  The snowplow led them into a canyon. The wind howled and shook the truck as their pace continued slowly. Usually, the drive from Gunnison to Hawk Ridge took under an hour. They’d left the city limits of Gunnison over an hour ago and they still had more than half the distance ahead of them. They’d been on the road ten hours. He’d lost patience with the trip eight hours back.

  Nick reached around to the back seat and opened the lid of the cooler. “Hmm, let’s see. On the menu this afternoon, we have cola, cola,--” he rummaged deeper, “–-cola, and cola. What’s your pleasure, ma’am?”

  “Choices, choices,” she said, her dimple creasing as her gaze remained focused on the snow-blown road. “I guess I’ll take a cola.”

  “Fine choice, I hear it’s a good year.” She accepted the can and took a long drink. Flipping the cup holder on the dashboard down with her pinkie finger, she set her can into the rubber ring and clasped the steering wheel again. “So, what do you plan to do with yourself now?”

  Nick knew she’d ask eventually and had spent long moments pondering the answer. Funny, what appeared so black and white just days ago, now seemed anything but simple. “Go back on the road.”

  He waited for her condemning reaction, knowing her thoughts on her choices. She’d hovered over him like a mother hen back at the hospital. Rachel stared ahead appearing completely unfazed. They drove along slowly, the whirrr of the snowplow ahead of them the only sound breaking the silence in the truck cab. Nick tapped his finger on the armrest. Rachel would have made a great salesman. Put your offer on the table then don’t speak until the deal was sealed. Get’em every time.

  He surrendered. “Stephanie and I were wrong from the beginning. We made too much of the little incidental things in our lives and tried to build a future on less than the truth. It didn’t take long to figure out that wasn’t a good way to go.”

  “Did she know what was important to you? You know, cattle, ranching, rodeo, all that good stuff?”

  Nick laughed in spite of himself. “She came from a cattle family, her father is still an officer on the board of the Western Regi
on Cattleman’s Association. No, cattle appreciation wasn’t our problem.”

  “You didn’t beat her or anything like that, did you?”

  “To have talked to her, you would have thought I treated her ten times worse.”

  A gust shoved the truck against the snow line created by the plow. Rachel eased the tires back into the center path. “Trust me Nick, being married to a rodeo cowboy is no piece of cake.”

  “I wasn’t bull riding professionally, I just caught weekend rides with my friends.” Her skeptical brow lifted again. How to make her understand? “I rode bulls like other men play golf.”

  His logic was met by a defeated sigh. “No bull rider worth his skill looks at it that casually, but if that analogy helps you sleep at night, well all right then.” She loosened her grip on the steering wheel and motioned for him to continue - her delicate wrist twisting, her long fingers beckoning him closer. “So, what was the problem?”

  It didn’t help him sleep at night and blast her for calling him on it. “Before we married, we thought we were on the same page, it wasn’t until a month or so afterward we discovered our words had different context. She wanted the Cattlemen society life she’d always known; I wanted just plain ol’ cattle. Even though we’d known each other for years, we never really knew each other.” He rapped his knuckles on the window beside him. “We just married for all the wrong reasons.”

  “Don’t you think every marriage has its ups and downs?” she asked, her voice soft and thoughtful. She craned her neck to see around the plow. When she settled back against the seat, she turned her big, green eyes on him and arched a brow.

  “Not like ours.”

  “Nick, I’m sure you wanted the best for her.” She reached out and fingered the fold of his sleeve, her touch soothing as if she understood the situation.

  His heart sped up, yet an odd calm settled over him. “Sometimes what we think is best, isn’t always the right thing to do.”

  She peeked at him, an impish smile pulling at her lips until her sweet dimple appeared. “Kinda like me stealing you?”

  “Something like that.” He stared at her, fascinated at how such a small facial expression lit up her entire face. “Your intentions were honorable.”

  She turned back to the road, her dimple remaining in place on her cheek holding Nick’s gaze with an iron grip. “I can’t imagine yours ever being anything less.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rachel pulled up beside a snowdrift building up beside what looked to be a full-ton pickup parked in front of a ranch style log home. There hadn’t been tracks to follow to the house, so she guessed the occupants had braced themselves at the first hint of the storm. Lights glowed through the wind-whipped snowflakes and a reflection of firelight danced past the lace curtains. A very Thomas Kincaid-like setting.

  She turned off the engine and tried to relax the muscles in her shoulders. She’d never driven through a gruesome snowstorm before and vowed never again. Thank God for listening to her prayers for safe travel.

  The silence in the cab was deafening after listening to the clatter of the diesel engine. She glanced at Nick sitting beside her in a moody heap. All she’d said was no, they weren’t going up some steep hill he’d indicated when the lights of a house glowed just up the road. She didn’t care that his house was at the top of the hill. Certainly his neighbors would offer them shelter at least until morning.

  “C’mon, Nick,” she coaxed. Since leaving Casper, they’d found a common truce and she treasured their fragile peace. “It’s crazy to go up that hill with this wind blowing. And it’s dark - you know I can’t see in the dark. The only thing that kept me on the road this far was the light reflecting off the snow.”

  Nick continued to look out the window, the muscles in his jaw working double time. She hated disappointing him, but to have her drive them any further was not in their best interests. “Your neighbors aren’t going to leave us out in the cold.” She hated her pleading tone. For some unknown reason, she’d go up that blasted hill if he asked again. “Please, Nick. Just for tonight.”

  The wind howled as snow whipped around the truck. Tiny lines appeared at the corner of his eye. He squinted toward the house as if contemplating the danger of further action. Then, he snapped the handle on the door and twisted out of the cab. Rachel scrambled out and caught up with him at the gate leading to the yard. Nick’s abrupt decisions were driving her batty. One minute he looked rock solid demanding his way and the next? He gave in, just like that. She saved her words since he wouldn’t have heard them in the blowing snow and trudged through the snow behind him to the porch. The corner of the house acted as a wind break and Rachel huddled against the wall as Nick knocked on the door with a heavy fist.

  “Easy there, big guy.” She tugged on his arm. “Don’t scare them.”

  “They don’t scare easily.” He rapped on the door again.

  The porch light came on making the flurry of flakes look like a swarm of moths swirling around them. Rachel buried her nose in his sleeve as a gust of frigid chill bit her cheeks. When the door opened and inside warmth spilled over them, she’d never been happier in her life.

  With his palm at the small of her back, Nick guided her through the door. Heat enveloped her and she drew a warm breath of air. They’d stepped into a kitchen filled with people seated at a large table, their faces wide-eyed at the intrusion.

  “Sorry for interrupting,” she began.

  “Nick!” A sturdy woman in a sweatshirt and jeans, her graying hair caught back in a clip, hurried toward them. “You must be Rachel. Come inside and close the door. For all the storming going on, we didn’t hear you drive up. You’ve got to be freezing.”

  Nick urged Rachel forward. He stomped his boots before following her in and closed the door behind him. His tension became palpable as he stepped up behind her.

  Maybe she should have tackled the dark road he’d suggested. Rachel glanced around at the expectant faces, uncertain whether she should be concerned that these strangers knew her. “Yes, ma’am, Rachel Hill.”

  “Took you long enough to get here.” The dark haired man who’d opened the door returned to the table and stopped beside a very pregnant woman and a boy maybe ten years old. He fixed Nick with a stony stare. “Haven’t you ever heard of calling?”

  “Didn’t see the need.”

  His chest rumbled with the words. Rachel leaned back a fraction until her shoulder blade wedged between his chest and arm. An older man sat at the far end, bushy brows drawn tightly. Beside him sat a woman with blonde hair who looked close to Rachel’s age and beside her a friendlier version of the man of who’d opened the door. A strange mixture of curiosity and anger filled the room. Fragments of self-defense classes pinged her brain. She leaned into Nick a fraction more as she sized up the crowd. “Thanks for letting us in.”

  “Where are my manners?” The woman beside her grasped Rachel’s arm with a confident grip and urged her toward a roaring fire in the living room. “Come in and warm up by the fire.”

  Unwilling to get too far from Nick, Rachel stepped aside as the woman reached and unzipped his jacket. “Take off your boots before you stomp through the house.”

  She held her breath, waiting for Nick to explode at the order. Instead, he eased out of his boots and shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it on one of the hooks behind the door. Rachel jumped at the tap on her elbow. The pregnant woman stood by her side, her belly beyond huge.

  Rachel couldn’t stop staring. “Are you okay?”

  She winced in answer and ran a puffy hand over her belly. “Twins. And this snowstorm has them turning somersaults.” Glancing out the window, she drew a quick breath. “I'm swelling up like a sausage, but Doc says any day now. I just hope the roads are clear.”

  “Oh, my.” Rachel gave her a weak smile. “I’m sorry we intruded.”

  “No intrusion.” The man who'd opened the door stepped up and ushered them both to the fire. He glanced around, his dark brown gaze fa
lling on Nick. “Didn’t Nick tell you? We’re family. I’m Gabe Davidson, my wife, Melanie.” He pointed back to the table. “My son, Jason; parents Martin and Grace; my brother, Zac and sister-in-law, Jennifer.” His gaze returned to the doorway where Nick stood. “And apparently, you already know my brother, Nick.”

  * * *

  The last thing he’d wanted was to come home. He had avoided it for four years and was doing fine on the road, riding bulls, following the circuit. He’d buried himself in his work to keep feelings and emotions at bay. The smell of leather and rangy cowhide infused with the cheers of the crowd had fueled his determination to keep his eyes looking ahead and forgetting there was ever a past.

  Until Rachel Hill barreled her way into his life and ripped off the grimy bandage he’d stuffed into the hole of his soul.

  Nick didn’t know where to look. His head hurt like the devil and his body couldn’t decide if it was freezing or burning up.

  Too many voices; too much noise. Too much family.

  He blinked, wrapped in the sights and smells of the house where he’d grown up. The scarred wooden floor that gleamed from a weekly waxing. The overstuffed leather chairs and couch in the living room with an abundance of mismatched pillows stuffed wherever you needed them. The ever-welcoming blaze in the hearth that kept the whole house warm removing the need for an impersonal furnace that had seen very little use over the twenty years since it had been installed.

  The family had grown. Gabe had married, so had Zac. There was a boy in the house again and a pair of twin girls on the way. His brothers were happy, they’d made lives for themselves.

  He’d married first, yet finished last in the game of life.

  He snapped out of his reverie again and focused on the room full of people ahead of him. Rachel thought she could save him from himself by bringing him home, back to family. So much for her logic. Well, she’d be gone in a few days and then, so would he. Somehow, the thought didn’t give him the satisfaction he’d expected.