With Love, Cowboy [Love Letters from Cowboy]

by Lacy Williams

  "Hey, you," she said with a smile, but he noticed the flush high in her cheeks. She'd better not have over-taxed herself getting ready for the guests she'd invited this afternoon. Ashley would need her to be healthy.

  He washed up at the sink. "Guest of honor is here. Why don't you let me finish up here and go hug your little girl?"

  "You're a good boy," Mary said. She brushed the back of one hand across her forehead. "I think I'll take you up on that."

  He was familiar with the kitchen that had been updated about a decade ago; he cooked for Ashley's parents a couple of times a week. It made things easier on them and it wasn't like he had a family waiting on him after he got home from work.

  The Reynolds's house felt about like home to him. He'd grown to love the occasional squeak in the wood floors, the slip-covered furniture in the living room, the many childhood pictures of Ashley, the recliner that Joe inhabited beside the picture window where he could watch the birds.

  He really hoped Ashley loved it here, wanted to stay. Her parents needed her. And he needed her too. She just didn't know it yet.

  He finished arranging the meat and cheese platter and found some fruit she must've started chopping. He threw it on an empty plate too.

  Then he took both platters out and put them on the over-laden dining room table, greeting friends and nodding to his cousin Maddox across the room. He talked to several people before spotting Ashley. She was talking to a guy Ryan recognized from church. A single guy about his age who'd moved to town recently.

  Who'd invited him?

  The surge of hot jealousy took him by surprise. He'd already taken one step toward them but forced his feet to turn around. He went back to the kitchen instead. He didn't have a claim on Ashley, no matter how much he wished he did.

  Ashley's dad, Joe, was standing with one hand on the back of one of the chairs in the breakfast nook, looking out the window into the backyard.

  The kitchen door swung closed behind Ryan, muting the voices of the crowd in the other room. Joe looked back over his shoulder.

  He looked tired. He'd aged in the last few years, added wrinkles and white hair. He'd been a steady presence in Ryan's life—not the father Ryan had never had, but certainly a mentor. Working with Joe had given Ryan direction, and Ryan liked to think they still would've been friends, even if Ryan hadn't been hung up on Ashley.

  "Everything okay?" Ryan asked.

  Joe shrugged. He looked at the door behind Ryan and then back outside. "I came in here after something, but for the life of me, I can't remember what it was."

  That was pretty normal. So was Joe's frustration. As his memory failed, the things he couldn't remember seemed to increase daily and it was hard on him. Joe didn't particularly like crowds, because the people he knew from his memories had changed. It was confusing, upsetting. But Ashley deserved her party.

  Ryan stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the older man. He wasn't needed at the party, not right now, when Ashley's attention was called a hundred different ways and everyone wanted to talk to her. But Joe needed him.

  Even though he wanted to rush back into the party and pummel that guy from church. He'd seemed like a nice guy before today. Ryan's stomach hurt at the thought of Ashley falling for some other guy.

  He'd had too many conversations with God about her to count. Ryan had thought he and the Big Guy were on the same page.

  But what if he was wrong?

  What if he'd wasted ten years of his life trying to win a girl who would never want him?

  The sound of the party rose and fell, almost like someone had opened the door, but Ryan stayed with Joe and didn't look behind.

  "How'd closing go tonight?" Joe asked.

  "Moira closed," Ryan said gently. "I had to drive to Oklahoma City to pick up Ashley."

  They'd talked about it last night when Ryan had been over for dinner, but it wasn't a huge surprise that Joe didn't remember.

  "That's right," said the older man, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb.

  "Did you get to talk to Ashley?"

  "For a minute. Her friends were swarming around…" And sometimes Joe had trouble remembering names.

  It was tough seeing the man who used to greet every customer at the feed store and not only remember their names, but the types and names of their horses and pets.

  Joe squeezed the chair back and wiggled the chair a little, a sign of agitation. "I'd forgotten about…her arm. And her hair's shorter. She looks…different."

  Ah. Maybe this was the real reason Joe had come to hide in the kitchen. His memories of Ashley had been from before her injury, and that blank in his memory must be painful, like finding out about her amputation all over again.

  Ryan rested a hand on the older man's shoulder. "Mary said she put a recent picture of Ashley on your dresser," he said gently. "Would it help if we made a copy and put it on that little shelf next to your recliner?"

  "Maybe." Joe stared out the back window.

  "She's still the same Ash," Ryan said. "Independent and stubborn." Prickly. Vulnerable. "She wouldn't even let me open the car door for her."

  "That sounds about right." Joe smiled a ghost of a smile. Ryan thought he'd better not mention the kiss. The old man was still protective of his daughter.

  "She didn't even want to stop for food, she was in such a hurry to get back here and see you, you old coot."

  Now Joe's smile had stretched to a full one.

  "Why don't you get back in there and give her another hug?" Ryan asked.

  There was a soft noise behind them, and they turned in tandem. Ashley stood just inside the doorway, alone, and had obviously heard at least part of their conversation. Her eyes were soft and even a little shimmery.

  She sniffled, and then Joe moved toward her. They met in the middle in a full-on embrace.

  Over his shoulder, her eyes met Ryan's. And held.

  He didn't smile. He knew this had to be tough on her. It had to have been hard enough to come home without her arm, but to find her parents' in such precarious health…he couldn't imagine.

  He nodded to her once, a silent promise to do everything he could to make things easier on her.

  #

  Ash turned up at the feed store too early the next morning.

  She found the employee door unlocked and the lights in the back storage room on. And the office.

  She would always think of the ten by ten room as her dad's office, but when she turned the corner, it was Ryan spread across the black computer chair, his long legs kicked to the side, chewing on a Bic pen.

  He looked up, probably alerted by the clicking of Atlas's toenails on the floor.

  "We were out for our morning run," she said. She smoothed back her hair, wet with sweat and still rumpled from sleep. She straightened her running shorts and T-shirt and wished suddenly she'd had a shower before coming here.

  He smiled so wide, she wondered if it made his cheeks ache. "I'm glad you came in. Just a sec."

  He leaned forward, hands going to the keyboard. She looked over his shoulder to see what looked like some kind of time-keeping program. He blanked the screen and then turned back to her, sweeping a coffee mug off the desk and offering it to her.

  "No thanks." Drinking his coffee would have been too intimate.

  She was still a little shaken after yesterday. That kiss. And then seeing his gentle way with her dad. He'd comforted her dad when she hadn't even registered anything had been wrong. Oh, it had been noisy at the party, busy with all the people and activity. She could excuse herself for that.

  But the truth was, Ryan knew her parents better now than she did.

  And seeing his patient way with her father had touched a chord inside her. Made her realize that maybe there was more to the man than the prankster he used to be.

  "I was thinking," he started, "do you want to go out this weekend? I could make a reservation…"

  His voice trailed off as she shook her head. "No, thanks."

&n
bsp; Everything was so muddled right now, with her parents' health and trying to find a new job or direction. She couldn't add dating Ryan into the mix. Right?

  He accepted with grace, his smile unwavering. "Okay."

  She needed a distraction. But glancing around the office didn't provide one. The two goldenrod metal filing cabinets in the corner were the same, but the desk had been updated to a newer model. How had he gotten that by her old-fashioned father? They probably needed it to accommodate the computer.

  "I'm used to seeing it messier," she murmured.

  He chuckled. "Joe accused me of throwing away his important paperwork the first time I cleaned it after he promoted me. I never could understand how he found anything in those piles and piles of papers."

  She lowered her gaze and caught on the large desk calendar. Yesterday's date had been circled in red, twice, with her name scrawled in the center.

  She felt hot, remembering the impromptu welcoming crowd he'd gathered.

  Ryan nudged her off-center, and she didn't like it. She'd come here to see if she could find some answers, maybe start finding her place again.

  "Will you show me around this morning? I want to start taking over some of my dad's duties." She didn't like to be idle, and until she figured out what she was going to do now, she wanted to take some of the weight off her dad's shoulders. But like Ryan had told her yesterday, the business had changed since she'd left home at nineteen. She'd need some new training if she wanted to help out.

  "Sure," he said easily. "I've got a shipment arriving in a little while, but we've got time." He stood up, and the room seemed suddenly smaller, as if his presence sucked the air right out.

  She turned and motioned Atlas into the hall, her hand tense on the leash.

  This was crazy.

  She couldn't be attracted to Ryan. Annoying Ryan. Two years her junior, during high school he'd followed her around like the president and only member of her fan club.

  He'd started it yesterday with that kiss. This attraction was all his fault. Until that moment in the airport, she'd never thought of him this way before.

  Sure, they'd had some fun times together working in the store during high school, but he'd just been a kid. An adolescent more interested in football and rodeoing than anything else.

  But a decade later…? That boy was tall, broad, and handsome. And as far as she could tell, he was also intelligent, capable, and kind. That boy had turned into some kind of man.

  Why did she have to realize that now? Now, when she didn't know who she was any longer. An ex-soldier. An amputee. A veteran with no goals, no plans.

  She needed direction.

  "We updated the break room last year…"

  Ryan ushered her forward, seemingly unaware of her internal turmoil. He propped open the door to the employee-only area, and she saw the same old olive-green fridge that had been there for years, the same Formica table, and a collection of slightly off-kilter chairs. But there was a relatively new flat-panel TV in one corner.

  She raised her brows at Ryan, and he winked. "If you're on the Saturday staff, you want to be able to keep an eye on the football games during break time."

  She rolled her eyes.

  He took her up into the showroom, which she almost didn't recognize. There were the familiar items, rows of dog and cat food, horse bridles, and saltlicks for cattle.

  But there was a display of small pet supplies—items for rabbits, fish, rodents—that she'd never seen before.

  And she saw several racks of clothing items, from hats to boots, overalls to coveralls, flannel, cotton, and denim.

  "These are new." A length of slack in Atlas's leash, she reached out and touched one of the country-chic denim dresses, prominently placed where someone walking into the store would easily see it.

  "They're on consignment from a local lady who designs them."

  She'd been so engrossed in the clothing, she hadn't seen Ryan circle the store. He was walking toward them from the right, approaching Atlas's deaf side.

  And she didn't realize it until too late.

  Atlas turned and the saw the threat of Ryan's tall body in his space. Everything happened too fast.

  The dog tensed.

  "Wait—" She pulled against the leash. Too much slack. Not enough time.

  It was too late. The dog lunged before Ryan even knew what was happening, his powerful jaw clamping over Ryan's hand.

  "Atlas, out," she issued the command, and even though her voice was shaking, the dog released Ryan.

  Blood dripped down his hand and onto the floor.

  "Oh, Ryan!"

  He clapped his other hand over the bite. "It's okay—"

  "I'm so sorry. That's his deaf side—the explosion—" She was stammering, and shaking. "He didn't see you."

  Ryan looked up at her with those steady eyes.

  "Ashley. It's okay. I'm okay."

  "Y-you're bleeding." A little rivulet of blood trailed through his clasped fingers and dripped on the floor.

  She closed her eyes as disjointed images filled her mind—her own body, covered in gore. Atlas bloodied from the IED. She tensed, gasped, searched the darkness for something to hang onto, something to pull her back to the present.

  "Ashley. Ash."

  Something bumped her, and her eyes flew open. Ryan was there, close. His hands were still clamped together, the good one holding the injured one, but his shoulder must've bumped hers, his attempt to pull her back.

  He'd seen too much. She knew that by the compassion shining in his eyes.

  But he didn't ask if she was okay. She wasn't.

  "Are you all right?" Her throat was scratchy, and she cleared it, attempting to rid it of emotion.

  "Yeah. He barely got me. I'll clean it out in the bathroom. You want to come with me and see for yourself?"

  Moments later, she found herself stuffed in the tiny employee bathroom with Ryan, the door propped open so she could see Atlas lying in the hall outside. The glare of the fluorescent lights burned her eyes. It had to be the lights, right? She was a soldier, and soldiers didn't get emotional.

  He ran cold water over his hand and, as the blood turned pink and drained into the sink, she saw that he'd been right. Atlas's teeth had mostly grazed the soft, fleshy part of his palm beneath his thumb.

  "Hand me the first-aid kit," he said, indicating a shelf by the door.

  It was heavier than it looked, the weight off balance inside the plastic box, and she bobbled it, almost sending it crashing to the floor before she caught it against her middle. Frustrated with her limitations, she grunted as she smacked it down a little too hard on top of the commode.

  She rummaged for gauze while he soaped up the cut, hissing a little through his teeth.

  "Are you sure you don't need stitches?"

  "See for yourself." He lifted his hand, and she set the gauze on top of the open kit and grabbed his wrist. His skin was cool beneath hers.

  The blood flow had slowed considerably. Really, it was more of a scrape than a puncture.

  "Help me wrap it?"

  She did, their fingers tangling once, sending a hot flash up her spine and the back of her neck. The fumble made her reach for words. "Atlas is deaf on his right side—the side where his ear is scarred. If he doesn't see you coming—"

  "I didn't realize," he said. She held the end of the gauze as he stuck a piece of white tape across it, but before she could pull away, he'd turned his hand over and clasped her fingers.

  "If you want to talk about…anything, I'm here."

  Before she could rip her hand away, he let her go and moved past her to crouch in the doorway. Far enough that he'd have a half-second of warning, but Atlas only looked at him, mouth open and panting.

  "Sorry, old boy," Ryan said. "Didn't mean to scare you." He didn't reach out, an action that someone else might've done. Instead, he let the dog associate his scent, remember who he was from the truck ride.

  In the whole thing, Ryan hadn't lost his calm. />
  "Did you lose hearing in your ear as well?" he asked without turning back to her.

  It was easier answering him when he wasn't looking at her. He was probably smart enough to figure that out on his own. "Part." She made a click with her tongue and teeth and Atlas rose to his feet, then licked Ryan's chin.

  After enduring it for a moment, he said, "All right," with a little laugh.

  When he stood up in the small space, he was too close.

  Her memories took her momentarily back at the airport terminal when he'd kissed her. He looked down on her, eyes serious but somehow still smiling.

  "I'll remember." Whether he was talking about Atlas or her, she didn't know. But somehow, she knew this was a promise he would keep.

  Chapter Three

  Later that week, Ashley tapped her pencil on the list she'd just written.

  She hated looking at her handwriting. Writing with her left hand was torturous. It took forever and her words scrawled across the page, uneven letters making her efforts look like they'd been written by a kindergartener.

  But she needed the list. She'd been at the feed store every day, getting the feel of the place and meeting the staff of five. Ryan had given her a copy of the last year's financial records and inventories, and she was attempting to figure them out. Back in high school, she'd only been responsible for the register and stocking shelves, not any of the financial stuff.

  Her head was swimming with numbers.

  She propped her elbow on the desk in her father's home office, then put her chin on her fist and stared out the back window. The familiar yard hadn't changed much since she'd been in high school. Her mom's flower beds were well-maintained. She wondered if her mom had gotten someone to help since her attack. Either way, she was here now, and she could help.

  Everything was so different at home. Her mother was noticeably weaker, slower. Her father's Alzheimer's made him lucid some days and difficult to deal with on others.

  And Ashley had missed it all.

  Guilt panged, a familiar companion since she'd been home. She'd missed so much time with her parents, all because of her selfishness. She'd been hurt, so she'd punished them by staying away, by making a new life for herself. But it didn't change that they were the ones who had cared for her, had raised her.