His boots hit heavy on the wooden steps. Wicker rockers flanked both sides of the entrance, inviting guests to sit and enjoy the panoramic view, as did a porch swing. Someone had hung a giant wreath, complete with a red bow, on the front door. Probably Sam’s wife. It gave a homey look to the place and reminded Will of his grandmother’s house.
The smell of something delicious invaded his nostrils the second he entered the house. Sam’s mother-in-law, who also worked for him, was an exceptional cook. She must have fixed dinner for them before leaving at the end of her shift. Too bad Will had already eaten.
“Hey, Cliff,” he said upon spotting the guest sitting at the kitchen table.
“Will, how are you doing?” Cliff Dempsey was the mayor’s nephew and local sheriff. He wore his uniform, which gave Will reason to suspect the visit was official.
Sam motioned for Will to sit. “Did you eat at the Paydirt?”
He nodded. “But I wouldn’t mind some dessert.”
While the other two men served themselves hearty portions of chicken casserole and salad with homemade Thousand Island dressing, Will carved out a large slice of blueberry pie—his favorite.
Small talk filled the spaces between bites of food. Will was acquainted with the sheriff—most folks were. He was also aware that his boss’s friendship with Cliff went back a lot of years. More years than Will had been in Sweetheart.
He had the undeniable impression he was being set up a second time today and waited for the purpose of the meeting to be revealed. The moment came at the end of the meal over coffee. Thankfully it was strong and black.
“Cliff and I have been talking.” Sam inclined his head in the direction of the sheriff. It was apparently a cue for Cliff to take the lead.
“As you know, we have a volunteer fire department in town. Such as it is.”
Will did know. The crew of a dozen men had fought valiantly last summer when the fire had swept through Sweetheart. They’d been limited by their minimal ranks and one dilapidated fire truck from the Stone Age.
“The town council met last week and voted to expand the department,” Cliff continued. “That includes newer modern equipment and additional personnel.”
Here it came, thought Will, a request to volunteer. It wasn’t the first time he’d been targeted for recruitment. He’d declined then, too. Not because he couldn’t perform the work or that it didn’t appeal to him. It did. Very much.
What held him back was his fear of having a panic attack in the middle of a call. He was generally good in a crisis, demonstrating his ability often during his six years in the army. But those had been the easy years when his attacks were under control. He’d hate for someone to be depending on him for their life or the protection of their property, only to fail them.
“Sounds good.” He kept his tone noncommittal.
“You’re on our short list of candidates.”
Before he could squeeze out a reply, Cliff plowed ahead. “The council also voted for one paid position. One that, given recent events, they feel is essential. We want the tourists coming here to feel safe. Our residents, too.”
Will waited, something he was good at and tried to envision what this new position had to do with him. Search and rescue, perhaps? Made sense, given his army experience. He’d decline that, too. For the same reasons.
“An EMT,” Sam interjected, clearly losing patience. “You.”
“Me?” Startled, Will drew back. “I’m no EMT.”
“Not yet.” Cliff chased his last bite of pie with his last swallow of coffee. “The town will pay for your training. You’d have to spend two full days a week in Reno. The council secretary has all the info on the school and is ready to enroll you. Your gas and hotel would also be covered as part of the deal.”
Reno! Impossible. Will hadn’t left Sweetheart once in the five years since his arrival.
“All the council asks for in return is three consecutive years of service, starting immediately after you graduate. Which, I think, is more than fair.”
“It’s a great opportunity, Will,” Sam said.
“And you’d be paid for being on call,” Cliff added. “Whether or not there was an emergency.”
“You’d have to stick nearby on your days off at the ranch.” Sam shoved his plate aside. “That’s one downside.”
In Will’s opinion, it was the only selling point.
He felt a familiar constriction in his chest. With both men observing him, he couldn’t reach under the table and snap the rubber band he wore. Instead he focused on his breathing and murmured, “I can’t. I have no experience.”
“You’re more than qualified.” Cliff leaned forward, consciously, or subconsciously, pressuring Will. “Weren’t you an orderly in the army?”
“For a while.”
Two years. And during that time, he’d been in love. Deeply. And believed he’d be married by the next spring when his and his fiancée’s respective enlistments were up. But that didn’t happen, and the attacks returned, every bit as severe as after his parents had died.
“An orderly isn’t the same as an EMT,” he said.
“Which is why you’d attend school.” Cliff clearly didn’t see a problem.
Neither did Sam. “If you’re worried about your job, don’t be.”
Will couldn’t look at his boss.
“I’ll pay your wages on the days you’re at school.”
He jumped on the convenient excuse. “I can’t take your charity.”
“It’s not charity. I’m making a donation to the town.”
Sam had received a huge settlement two years ago when his first wife had unexpectedly died in a car crash. After returning to Sweetheart, he’d sunk a good portion of that settlement into revitalizing the town, wanting to use the money for good and give meaning to his late wife’s tragic demise.
“If I’m not earning the money by working, it’s charity,” Will insisted.
“We can argue that point,” Cliff interjected. “But what I’d rather do is focus on the needs of the town and the pool of potential candidates. You’re a good fit, Will. You’re young, strong, athletic and levelheaded in a crisis.”
Little did they know.
“We’ve seen you in action.” Sam picked up where Cliff left off. “Not just with Miranda Staley’s residents during the evacuation, but last year when that hiker went missing. You found him at the bottom of the ravine on Grey Rock Point, splinted his broken ankle and hauled him out of there in one piece, strapped to your back.”
“You also rescued my uncle from his car when it careened into a snowbank,” Cliff said. “Middle of winter. He might have died from hypothermia if not for your efforts. You have what it takes. What we’re looking for. What we need.”
Will didn’t disagree. And if he were a different person, burdened with a different affliction, he’d seize the opportunity with both hands.
“I can’t,” he repeated. The last time he’d tried to leave Sweetheart, he’d heaved all over his boots.
“Take a few days,” Cliff said, “and think about it. Get back to me when you’re ready.” He stood and carried his dishes from the table to the sink. “In the meantime, there are a dozen reports to review and a stack of phone messages calling my name.”
Sam accompanied Cliff to the front door. Will stayed where he was, listening to the sound of their voices until the words were too low for him to decipher. They were probably scratching their heads, trying to account for his lack of enthusiasm.
It was a great opportunity. The only time he felt good about himself, other than on the back of a horse, was when he helped people. Particularly those in a crisis. He couldn’t make amends for failing to save his parents when he’d had the chance. But in his mind, his actions in those moments honored their memory. Much like Sam spending his late
wife’s insurance settlement for the good of the town.
If only he could...
Forget it. Impossible.
Long before Sam returned to the kitchen, Will escaped out the back door to his pickup truck parked next to the barn and, ten minutes later, to his single-wide trailer.
Spending a restless evening pacing back and forth in front of Cruze’s watchful eyes, he finally fell asleep, only to dream about being an EMT. And in his dream he was free from anxiety, free from fear, free from the guilt that constantly ate at him and able to love again.
Miranda’s face was the first thing he saw when Cruze’s whines jarred him awake just as dawn was breaking.
Chapter Five
“Whoa there, Trevor!” Will grabbed the boy’s arm a split second before disaster struck. “Guests aren’t allowed in the livestock pens.”
Will knew the boy’s name because his older cousin/babysitter had called it out—along with his sibling’s name, Demi—at least twenty times in the past twenty minutes. The pair, niece and nephew of the bride, were tornadoes on wheels, getting into everything and listening to no one.
“Why not?” Trevor demanded in a belligerent tone Will had begun to suspect was permanent. “They’re just calves.”
“Calves can be dangerous.”
“How?” Demi demanded. She didn’t want to be left out. “They’re just baby cows.”
“Baby cows that can kick and butt and stomp. You might get hurt.”
“No calf’s gonna kick me.” Trevor stabbed his narrow chest with his thumb.
“You think?” Will held up his still-bandaged left wrist. “See that? A calf pinned me. Against the fence.”
The kids’ eyes went wide. “Did you break it?” Demi asked.
“A sprain. Could’ve been worse.”
“Did it hurt?”
“You bet. I couldn’t write for a week.”
Trevor grinned, displaying overly large front teeth his face had yet to grow into. “Cool! I want to get pinned by a calf. Then I won’t have to do my homework.”
“Not on my watch, you won’t.”
“What does that mean?” Demi asked, obviously more curious than her brother.
“Not while I’m in charge of you,” he explained.
The pair followed him to where four of the ranch’s tamest horses stood tied to the arena railing, saddled, bridled and ready to be ridden. Trevor pestered Will nonstop, which he attempted to take in stride. Will generally liked children and related to them better than he did adults, with the exception of the elderly, like Mrs. Litey. Trevor and Demi, however, were more taxing than most youngsters their age, and he had to remind himself frequently to relax.
All hope of that was lost when they were joined by the cousin/babysitter, Cora, a nineteen-year-old college student who flirted outrageously with Will at every opportunity. With each flash of her dimples, toss of her hair and accidental-on-purpose bumping into him, his defenses rose.
It was all for a good cause, he reminded himself. Everyone in Sweetheart would benefit from the couple’s wedding. According to the mayor, news crews from Reno were arriving soon to cover the ceremony and the touching story behind the town’s attempt to recover from the fire. Will would do his part.
After a tour of the ranch earlier that morning, the couple and their immediate family members had taken a trip into town, where they were meeting with the mayor at the Paydirt about the reception and with the Yeungs at the wedding chapel about the service.
The remaining family members had been left in Will’s care. In addition to Trevor, Demi and Cora, the group included a teenaged girl who refused to look up from her cell phone even when she and Will were introduced. At least she didn’t try his patience.
Their activity of choice was calf roping, and he’d been instructed by Sam to give them lessons. Since their experience was limited to pony rides at the fair, Will was starting with the basics: Horsemanship 101. Later, they’d progress to lariats and roping dummies. If their attention lasted that long. He had his doubts.
Cora managed to finally pry the teenager loose from her phone, convincing her to pocket the device while they were on horseback. She sent Will a didn’t-I-do-good head tilt.
He nodded in return. When it came time for her to mount, she needed more assistance than the kids, maneuvering Will into holding her by the waist and hoisting her into the saddle.
Once seated, she gushed, “Thank you,” and lifted the reins. “How do these thingies work?”
He wrapped her fingers around the “thingies.” Then said, “I’ll show you. In the arena.”
“And here I was hoping for some private instruction.”
He pretended not to understand. “Only group lessons are available.”
Mounting Rocket Dog, he aimed the mare toward the gate. The cousin/babysitter followed him into the arena.
As if he would be interested in her. For starters, she was much too young for him. And though she probably turned the head of every guy on campus, Will was thinking of only one woman these days. Miranda Staley had invaded him completely. She was in his head, under his skin and, he was afraid, had wormed her way into his heart.
Why her? Why now? Just when everything was going well. First there was the fire, then her. If he hadn’t driven by her house during the evacuation, he wouldn’t now be distracted, edgy and ready to jump at the slightest provocation. His four young charges weren’t helping the situation.
As it turned out, the phone-toting teenager was the most natural and talented rider in the bunch. Apparently she loved animals.
Will checked the sun, noting its very slow trek across the sky, and expelled a tired breath. He didn’t own a watch, but Miranda did. A sleek, sporty number that was both stylish and practical.
A lot like the woman herself.
Where was she now? he wondered. At the group home or the Paydirt, helping the mayor serve lunch to the winning couple and their entourage? What about her house? If she didn’t refinance, she might lose it, and her residents depended on her.
“You okay?”
Will glanced up. The cousin/babysitter had stopped trotting in circles to stare at him.
“Fine.”
“You look as if you have a lot on your mind.”
Miranda had made a similar remark to him not long ago. He’d been thinking of her then, too.
“Guess I do.” He made a quick visual sweep of the arena. The two youngsters and the teenager happily walked or trotted their mounts.
“I have a lot on my mind, also.” Cora arched her brows, striving for allure. “I’d love to get out of here and cozy up in front of the fireplace.”
Will wanted out of there, as well. Only not for the same reasons. But he’d sworn off visiting Miranda’s house.
While he was attempting to devise an excuse to escape Cora, Trevor suddenly kicked his horse in the sides and yelled, “Giddyap!”
The horse—a fat, lazy swayback—broke out in a slow, slow trot.
“Giddyap,” Trevor yelled again and continued kicking the horse.
Will nudged Rocket Dog into a lope and rode up beside the boy, cutting him off and forcing him to stop. “That’s enough.”
“Why won’t she gallop?”
“Because she’s smarter than you and knows you aren’t ready for that.”
“We are, too, ready,” Demi insisted. She’d gotten her horse to trot as well, and reined to a stop beside them.
“After a few more lessons, maybe.”
Trevor frowned and jerked too hard on the reins. “I wanna rope a calf.”
“You treat that horse better,” Will said firmly, “and we’ll see about roping.”
The boy looked startled, then chagrined, and not at all used to being reprimanded.
“If
you’re going to be a real cowboy, you have to take good care of your horse. He’s how you make your living.” Will stroked Rocket Dog’s neck. “There might come a day when he saves your life.”
“You made that up.”
“I didn’t. Ask any of the hands here at the ranch. Ask Mr. Wyler. He got lost up on Cohea Ridge once. Rode all night in circles. Too tired to care, he gave the horse his head. They were home by breakfast.”
Trevor’s gaze narrowed. “Did that really happen?”
“True story.” It was easier to tell the kids about Sam than his own recent ride back to the ranch during a panic attack. Without Rocket Dog, he might have wound up as lost as Sam.
The tale of Sam’s harrowing escapade quieted the boy for a while, and they finished the riding lesson without any more incidents. Will still thought of Miranda—when didn’t he?—but kept his mental forays better hidden.
When it came time for learning to rope, Will tied the horses to the arena fence. The ground was the best place to start. Almost immediately the teenager lost interest. Pulling out her cell phone, she walked silently away, immersing herself in a game or texting.
Cora also lost interest after her multiple attempts had failed to entice Will to wrap his arms around her and demonstrate the proper way to hold a lariat. “I have to get back to the cabin. Come on, kids.”
“Not yet,” Trevor complained.
“We’re having fun,” Demi seconded.
“Then stay.” The cousin/babysitter flounced off, but not before flipping her hair one last time.
Will considered sending the kids with her and then decided, what the heck? The pair were enjoying themselves and behaving reasonably well for a change, not caring that their ropes missed the practice dummy far more than they connected. Resting a forearm on the arena railing, he breathed easy for the first time all morning.
“Seems to be going well.” Sam had arrived when Will wasn’t looking.
He shot Cruze a dirty look. What good was a watchdog that didn’t bark? “Well enough.”
Sam nodded in the direction of the kids. “Ran into their older cousin. She raved about you. Said she’s going on the afternoon trail ride.”
His Christmas Sweetheart Page 6