Wind River Cowboy

by Lindsay McKenna

  Rubbing his chest, he closed his eyes, torn. Kira being harmed brought out every last damned cell of protectiveness he possessed. She’d saved his life, he’d been told later by the doctor at Bethesda. Kira had dragged his sorry ass at least twenty-five feet through a hail of Taliban bullets and gotten him to safety behind boulders. She had protected him until help arrived.

  Now, as he glared around the silent room, the moonlight weak at the edges of the drapes, he so badly wanted to save her life. Oh, it wasn’t the same thing, he knew, but Kira was convinced she was going to be fired if she ratted out Crawford. He knew Shay a lot better than that. Shay would be horrified. Angry. But not at Kira.

  What he didn’t know was how her husband, Reese, would react to the information. Garret didn’t want Kira to go over to their house alone. He wanted to be at her side, to protect her whether she thought she needed it or not. He knew of her bravery, her raw courage under fire.

  Garret grunted a curse, rose and pulled his T-shirt into place across his chest. He needed a drink of water. Pushing the door open, he saw a weak light on down the hall in the living room. Halting, he realized Kira was awake. What was she thinking about? He heard quiet, muffled sobs drifting down the hall.

  His mouth hardened, his hand gripping the doorknob more tightly. Son of a bitch. This wasn’t the first time he’d caught her crying. Stopping sharply, Garret fought his urges. Before, when he’d heard her crying, he’d gone back into his room to let her have the time alone. Tears gutted Garret. Oh, he understood why women cried. They needed that. But it made him feel so damned helpless.

  What to do right now?

  How far could he push her trust? What if he went out there? What if he asked her what the tears were all about? What if it was about the team? Garret wasn’t sure he could handle that situation on top of the present one. He was too upset over her being injured by Crawford.

  Standing there, a bitter taste entered his mouth. He was such a friggin’ coward. Worried about the team? His grief? When Kira was hurting right now? What the hell kind of man was he? Where the hell were his priorities? Garret snarled a curse beneath his breath, ashamed of his actions. He shoved away from the door, heading for the kitchen, his gut taut.

  Garret brought out two glasses of water. He padded into the living room, making enough noise to alert Kira that she had company. She was in her favorite place on the couch, the corner. The lower half of her body was wrapped snugly in the afghan. The surprise on her wet face, the startled look in her eyes, told him everything.

  “Thought you might like some water,” he said, holding it out to her. He wanted to say to hell with the water and scoop her small form into his arms, carry her to his bed and hold her. Just hold her. That was all. The desire nearly overwhelmed Garret as she sniffed, trying to quickly wipe her tears away with shaking hands.

  “I woke you up,” she croaked, taking the glass. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No. I never went to sleep,” he grunted. This time, Garret sat down near her. He wasn’t going to sit opposite her as he always did. Not tonight. He slugged down the cold water and set the glass on the coffee table.

  She held the glass between her hands, her eyes wounded and dark. To Garret, she looked like a broken doll in that silent moment as he ruthlessly perused her. Kira was wearing a lavender, flannel, granny grown that brought out her soft gray eyes. Eyes that were now red-rimmed.

  Garret found one of her feet beneath the afghan and rubbed it gently. “Tell me what your tears are about,” he said and turned, looking directly into her eyes.

  Kira grimaced. “That I’m a coward. That from day one, Mr. Crawford was verbally abusive to me . . . that I took it and didn’t fight back.” She wiped her cheek. “God, I faced so many Taliban attacks and I fought back, Garret. I didn’t bite my tongue. I didn’t look away from the hatred they had for us. But now? Now, everything’s different . . .” She swallowed hard, hurt in her eyes. “I’m not me anymore. I-I’ve lost who I am. Maybe a part of me died in that firefight. I feel like a part of my soul was ripped away from me that night. As if... as if it were torn away forever.” She gripped the glass hard. “I’m not me anymore. I would never do what I did yesterday morning when Mr. Crawford grabbed my wrist. I should have walked out the door, but instead I stayed.”

  Her whispered, hoarse words shredded Garret. He closed his hand around her small, delicate foot. He was sure they were perfect feet, small toes. His fingers covered the curve of her arch, letting her know he cared more than he could ever tell her. “Something was taken from us, Kira,” he rumbled. He watched her chin lift, so much anguish in her eyes that it tore him apart. “And we’re never going to get it back.” His mouth slanted downward and he held her tearful gaze. “We’re not whole anymore. War has changed us. We didn’t set out to have that happen to us, it just did. I’m sorry . . . God, I’m so sorry, because if there was one person on our team who didn’t deserve this pain, it was you, Kira.

  “You always brought us a smile. You gave us laughter. You hugged us and you loved us when we were hurting. You were always there for us.” Garret looked away, his heart feeling as if someone were cutting it in two with a dull knife. His voice grew passionate with an emotion that coursed powerfully through him. “Kira, you’re strong whether you think you are or not. Maybe you’re wounded, but that doesn’t take away from your heart, which is still whole. Your courage hasn’t changed. There’s more than enough of you left for this lifetime and don’t ever think there isn’t.” His voice dropped with hoarseness. “Because it is enough.” Tears burned hot in his eyes and he cursed silently, blinking rapidly, forcing them away.

  How badly Garret wanted to open his arms and ask her to crawl into them. He needed Kira with a desperation he’d never known until now. Her gray eyes were moist, filled with an emotion he couldn’t name. Whatever it was, it made him feel damned good. And when she leaned over and set the glass on the lamp stand, she turned, leaning forward, her hand sliding over his hand, which was around her foot. “Has anyone ever told you you’re the best coach in the world?”

  His mouth twisted. “Sweetheart, I’m telling you the truth.” Garret held her watery gaze, her lower lip trembling, so many raw feelings in her eyes. Her hand on his sent a river of heat up his arm, encircling his heart as he held her grateful gaze. “I’ll always tell you the truth. Always.”

  She moved her fingers across his hand, her touch cool and light. “You’ve never let me down, Garret. Next time,” and Kira halted, battling tears and fighting them back, “next time I start feeling hopeless, that I’ve lost myself... my way . . . I’ll remember what you just said.” She gripped his hand. “Thank you, Garret.”

  “Do you feel like going to bed, Kira? You look so damned tired.” I want to hold you. Pull you up against me, just let you rest. To sleep.

  She removed her hand and leaned back, nodding. “Yes, I’m feeling really tired.”

  Garret forced himself to get up. Picking up the glasses, he said, “Come on, let’s get to bed.” And how he wished they could be together. Understanding Kira wasn’t there saddened him. Hope rose in him as he walked into the kitchen; maybe something good had come out of all her tears after all. Kira was crying for herself, Garret realized. That she hadn’t stood up to Crawford like she thought she should have. Instead, she’d taken his abuse until it escalated and worsened. Garret understood Kira was scared to death of being fired, but he knew it wouldn’t happen. She didn’t know these good people well enough, that they wouldn’t do that to her. He wondered what would happen to Crawford. Would Shay and Reese allow him to stay here or not?

  By the time he placed the glasses in the sink, Kira had gone to her room, the door closed. Halting, Garret longed to hold her. He’d be fine with pulling Kira into his arms, enfolding her against his body and allowing her to feel his full protection and not make love to her. Frowning, he turned and headed into his bedroom. Closing the door, he saw the moonlight was gone, the room dark. The clock read four a.m. He settled into th
e cold bed and pulled up the covers.

  Chapter Ten

  “Let’s eat breakfast and then I’m going over to Crawford’s place at 0700 to make his breakfast.”

  Kira gave him a startled look. When she’d risen at 0600, Garret was already in the kitchen, making a breakfast of pancakes filled with walnuts and diced apricots.

  “But,” she stammered, pouring them coffee, “I’m supposed to do that.” Kira saw the grim look Garret gave her. He was dressed in a black T-shirt, a dark red flannel shirt over it, his jeans and boots. His face was shaved, his sandy-colored hair still damp from a recent shower. The cutting look he gave her made Kira go cold with fear. It wasn’t that she feared him. It was fear of what he might do to Ray.

  “No. Not until we get this settled,” he told her. “I’ll tell Crawford you’re under the weather today and that I’m standing in for you. He’s not going to know, at least not yet, that we’re going to see Reese and Shay. All right?” and Garret gave her a significant glance.

  Biting on her lower lip, Kira took the cups to the table. She’d already taken out the plates and flatware. “Are you sure you can be nice to him? Because I know you, Garret. I know you’re pissed he bruised my wrist. You can’t go over there and rip his head off.”

  “Give me more credit than that, Kira.” He placed two large pancakes on a plate and covered them. “Stop looking at me like I’m going to kill the bastard. I may want to, but I won’t. He needs to be brought up short and told how it’s going to be or get the hell off this ranch permanently.” Lips thinning, Garret looked up to see how pale Kira had become as she stood uncertainly near the table. “Don’t worry,” he muttered. “I’m not going to do or say anything that would give him the least intel on what’s about to go down. Okay?”

  She chewed on her lip more. “Yeah . . . okay . . .”

  “Trust me on this?”

  Walking over, Kira watched him flip two more pancakes on the huge iron griddle. “I do, Garret. I guess I’m just anxious is all.”

  Giving her a concerned look, Garret said quietly, “Not to mention being fully sleep-deprived this morning?” His mouth hooked upward just enough so that Kira responded and gave him a faint smile.

  “I’m feeling really raw this morning, Garret. Scared,” and she wrapped her arms around herself. “I never used to be like this. It’s like I’ve gone from being confident, stable and cool-headed to this,” and she jabbed her thumb at herself.

  He saw the body language and knew Kira was feeling lost and had no confidence in the situation other than she knew she had to talk to Shay and Reese. “Look, you need to take some deep breaths. You’re so used to fighting dragons by yourself, Kira, that you don’t entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, there are people around who care for you. That know you’re a decent person. That know you would never lie about anything. They want to help you. They’ll support you in this. I know they will.”

  “I worry about Shay and her response to what happened.” Pushing her fingers through her recently combed hair, she leaned her hips against the sink, arms across her chest as Garret continued to make more pancakes. “I mean, she handled that situation with Ray for eighteen years. To what extent did he abuse her, Garret? Does anyone else know? Does Reese? I’m afraid I’ll open a can of worms for Shay. Maybe she’s never really told Reese the extent her father might have hurt her.”

  Garret’s eyes clouded. “Yeah, I was thinking about that last night, too. To be a survivor of abuse usually brings a lot of shame with it. And if Shay has been abused physically, I’m sure she’s not going to want to be forthcoming about it in front of all of us.”

  “But you know she was mentally and emotionally abused?”

  “Yes. She’s told me as much. Over the past year, she’s trusted me more and more and opened up on the subject. That’s why,” Garret said bitterly, “I don’t trust Crawford at all. I instinctively feel he beat her mother, who’s now dead. I don’t know if you bringing this up to them is going to help or hurt Shay.” He slid her a comforting look. “But let’s keep our focus. You’re the one who got injured by Crawford yesterday. And no matter how Shay takes it, I’m not allowing it to happen again.”

  A coldness swept through Kira. “Every time I go over there, Garret, I’m afraid. Adrenaline starts pouring through me and I get shaky and unnerved.”

  “I can see that. Now I understand why you were coming home after feeding him looking pale and unsure of yourself.” He gave her a soft look. “I wish . . . I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me this from the beginning. I could have helped you a lot sooner.”

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her face. “I was afraid, Garret. I know how protective you are of women and children who can’t defend themselves.” She opened her eyes and stared at him as he put the last pancakes on a plate. “I was afraid to tell you because I knew you’d do something about it.”

  Garret picked up the plate and slid his other hand beneath her elbow. “You’re right, I would have. Come on; I need you to eat a little something. You’re going to stay here until I come back. Then we’ll go over to see Shay and Reese.”

  * * *

  Ray Crawford’s face turned dark and wary as Garret came into the house. “What the hell do you want?” he snapped. “Where’s Kira?”

  Garret shut the door and hung his jacket and Stetson on a wall peg. “I’m going to make your breakfast, Mr. Crawford. Kira’s under the weather and I told her I’d take over feeding you today. Hope you don’t mind?” and he unsnapped the cuffs around his wrists and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. “What do you feel like eating?” He turned, keeping his face carefully arranged. Garret saw the rage come to Crawford’s narrowing brown eyes, his hands moving into fists on the table.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “A cold, I think. Nothing to worry about.”

  “She’s useless.”

  Garret reined in his anger. In a quiet tone he said, “Kira isn’t useless, Mr. Crawford. She’s a hard worker and she cares.”

  Crawford cursed under his breath. “Make me some waffles! Two of ’em. And I want bacon. Lots of it.”

  “More coffee?” Garret asked, pointing toward the pot on the counter. He knew Kira had the new timer working. The pot was half empty.

  “Yeah, gimme some.”

  Garret wondered, as he filled Ray’s cup, if he treated Kira just like this. Or worse? Was this how he treated his daughter? He ambled to the kitchen counter, located the new waffle iron and got busy making the old man his breakfast.

  “That daughter of mine is as useless as Kira.”

  Garret said nothing, focusing on the food.

  “Yesterday Kira dropped a skillet and scared the shit out of me. She’s clumsy.”

  Gritting his teeth, Garret didn’t reply. He got the bacon in one skillet and quickly whipped up the batter to make the waffles in a bowl.

  “Only good thing about women is they have offspring. Hopefully good, strapping sons.”

  “But you had a daughter,” Garret couldn’t resist pointing out as he poured the batter into the waffle iron and then closed the lid. Turning, he looked at Crawford, who had a sneer on his lips.

  “I wasn’t happy about it. I told my wife it was her fault. I never let her forget it.”

  Turning before Crawford could see the expression on his face, Garret knew he’d read what was there: disgust. Pulling down a plate, he took a linen napkin from a nearby drawer. Grabbing some flatware, he placed it in front of the rancher.

  “I don’t see anything wrong in having a daughter,” he said.

  Snorting, Crawford snarled, “They’re weak!”

  Hardly. But Garret wasn’t going there. He wanted to get through this breakfast without World War III breaking out between them. Busying himself, he made Crawford two waffles before he was filled up. He ate nearly half a pound of bacon, so the man was tucking it away. Garret wished Kira was eating more. She’d barely eaten six forkfuls of the pancakes he’d made for her that m
orning. He knew she loved apricots and had found some jam in the fridge to put it into the mix, hoping that would tease her into eating more. Kira was probably stretched thin at home, anxious and worried about the coming talk with Shay and Reese. This was dirty family laundry, the skeleton in the family closet, and Garret could hardly wait to air out the whole damn situation. Anything to protect Kira from this monster father poor Shay had been forced to grow up with.

  * * *

  “Ready?” Garret kept his hand beneath Kira’s elbow as they stood in front of Reese and Shay’s home. Garret had called over earlier to let them know they’d be heading their way and now they knocked on the door. Kira was in her green nylon parka, a red muffler around her neck, the red cap in place. Errant strands of black hair peeked out along her wan cheeks. The day was cloudy and windy. It was 8 a.m. and he’d seen Noah and Harper heading down to the barn as Kira and he had walked over to the main house.

  “No,” Kira whispered, grimacing, “I’m not ready, but this has to be done.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he said, holding her unsure gaze. Squeezing her elbow, Garret added, “We’ll get through this together, Kira. Just like old times. The team always sticks together and helps support one another as they make it through the gauntlet.”

  Garret couldn’t say anything else before Reese opened the door. He nodded hello to them, stepping aside. Wearing a dark blue flannel shirt and jeans, Reese was leaner and two inches taller than Garret.

  They wiped their boots, hung up their coats on wall pegs and followed Reese into the warm kitchen that smelled of cinnamon rolls baking. Shay was in there, just pulling them out of the oven with two heavy mitts on her hands.

  “Hi, guys,” she greeted, giving them quick smiles. “Take a seat at the table. You must have smelled my cinnamon rolls, Garret. That explains why you’re here.”

  “I didn’t, but I’m good for timing, Shay. Are we getting some?”

  “Oh, for sure.” She laughed.

  Garret pulled out a chair for Kira. There was a coffee cup at the head of the table and one on the opposite side of him. Reese brought over two more mugs and poured them coffee. Garret could see concern in Reese’s eyes. The man missed little. He’d been a captain in the Marine Corps and ran a company, which was a huge responsibility. Not something everyone could do successfully, but Reese had. And now he was managing this sick, broken ranch, nursing it slowly back to health. Garret respected Reese. He worried about Shay.