Wind River Cowboy

by Lindsay McKenna

  “How many?” Shay called from the kitchen. “Kira?”

  “Just one, thanks, Shay.”

  “Two for me,” Garret called out, grinning.

  “I thought you were going to plead for three. Even four, Garret.”

  Reese brought down brightly colored plates.

  “Well,” Garret hedged, giving her a wily look, “I might ask for seconds. Would you give them to me, Shay?” He saw her face was flushed, her cheeks a deep pink, her eyes glowing. Reese made her happy. He gave her the emotional support she needed. And he was protective of her, which was a good thing in Garret’s book.

  “Oh, we’ll see,” Shay said with a laugh, taking off her apron and laying it on the counter. She fluffed her hair and came to sit down opposite Garret. Reese took the chair at the head of the table.

  Reese gave Kira a searching look. “Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

  Garret tensed inwardly but remained relaxed-looking outwardly. He saw Kira lift her chin to meet Reese’s concerned gaze.

  “I need to tell both of you something that happened yesterday morning,” she said, including Shay in her glance. Taking a deep breath, Kira told them what Crawford had done. And as she did, she saw Shay’s face go absolutely white. Reese’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tucked in at the corners, as if he were withholding a lot of unexpected emotion. When she pulled back the sleeve of her yellow sweater to show them the livid blue-and-purple bruises across her inner wrist, she heard Shay gasp.

  “Oh, God!” she whispered, instantly leaning forward, her hands gently enclosing Kira’s extended wrist. “Oh, no . . .”

  Tears flooded into Kira’s eyes. She instantly knew Shay had been physically abused by her father. It was in Shay’s expression, in the strained tenor of her voice. Her hands were gentle around Kira’s wrist. “I’m okay, Shay. I really am. It’s just that I couldn’t let this go without talking to both of you.” She turned to Reese, whose eyes were now hard and unfathomable. “I talked to Garret about it and we both agreed I needed to come over this morning to let you know.”

  “Why didn’t you come as soon as it happened?” Reese demanded quietly. “Why did you wait, Kira?”

  Shay released Kira’s wrist and looked at her husband. “Because she was afraid, probably, that we might fire her or something.” She looked at Kira. “Am I right?”

  “Yes,” Kira admitted hollowly. Her entire body felt like it was in a war with itself. Unconsciously, she rubbed her stomach. “And to be honest? It wasn’t until Garret got home last night, and he saw the bruises, that I decided to tell you everything.” She gave the couple an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry this happened. I shouldn’t have tried to pick up that skillet with my injured hand.” She felt Garret’s fingers come to rest on her shoulder, gently smoothing the yellow sweater she wore. There was such strength in his light touch, and she felt his care wrap around her. “I was going to do it eventually, but Garret assured me you two would want to know sooner rather than later.”

  Reese gave his wife a tender look. “We do want to know.”

  Shay wiped tears from her eyes. “God, I’m so sorry, Kira. This is my fault. I didn’t warn you that my father might . . .” and she choked, burying her head in her hands, sobbing.

  Kira felt terrible. Reese excused himself, stood up and gently pulled Shay’s chair back and gathered her beneath his arm.

  “We’ll be back in a little while,” he assured them. “Stay here. All right?”

  Swallowing hard, Kira gave a jerky nod. She was so grateful for Garret’s arm across her shoulders because she felt like a rubber band that was going to snap at any second. “Y-yes, we will. I’m so sorry . . .”

  Reese lost his hard look, his eyes alive with moisture. “You have nothing to apologize for, Kira. Absolutely nothing. I’m glad you came to tell us.”

  Kira waited until they disappeared down the hall. Miserably, she looked to Garret. “Crawford hurt her so badly . . .”

  Grim, he snarled in a low tone, “Yeah . . . the bastard . . .”

  Her stomach shriveled into a hard, painful knot. Kira kept rubbing the area slowly and at last it started to ease her tension. “I didn’t know what to expect this morning,” she told him helplessly.

  “I’d always had a suspicion Crawford had beat the hell out of her mother and then, when she died, he started on Shay. Men like him need a whipping post and Shay was a convenient one when her mother wasn’t there to protect her from him anymore.”

  Trembling inwardly, Kira heard the rage within Garret’s voice. His eyes were implacable. The only time she’d seen that look was the night of the ambush, shortly before he was struck in the head with the second bullet. A shiver moved through her and she pulled her arms around herself, feeling guilty and responsible for upsetting Shay.

  “Don’t go there,” Garret rasped, his hand stilling on her shoulder, his fingers brushing the nape of her neck. “This has nothing to do with you, Kira. From the look on Reese’s face, I’d say he was blindsided, too. I don’t think Shay told him what her father had done to her. She tried to downplay it. Believe me, my old man whaled the tar out of me, and I always downplayed my bruises when one of my teachers saw them. I was ashamed. I didn’t want to admit to anyone I was getting the shit beat out of me by my drunk old man.”

  Her heart felt deep compassion for Garret. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

  He shrugged. “It’s over. It will never happen again. Shay’s a woman and her father doesn’t respect her. Even now, under the right circumstances, he might go after her, physically hurt her again. He has to be stopped once and for all.”

  “I can’t blame her for her reaction,” Kira said thickly, drowning in his narrowed hazel eyes. “I feel so bad for her. For Reese. I agree; I don’t think he knew all of it.”

  “He does now. And I’m sure Shay is sorry she didn’t tell you the whole truth about her father. She left you unprotected, probably hoping her old man wouldn’t do to you what he’d done to her.”

  The finality of Garret’s growling tone made her want to shrivel up and hide. Kira knew it was a combination of the PTSD symptoms and her own inadequacy that made her unable to believe she wouldn’t be let go from the job.

  “W-what do you think they’re going to do?”

  “I don’t know, Kira. There are lots of options on the table.” And then Garret slanted her a look. “And there’s no option on the table to fire you, so relax.”

  She gave him a small, hesitant smile. “Yes . . . okay . . .” Reese hadn’t looked angry at her. He’d looked completely upset over his wife’s unexpected reaction, the tears in his eyes, shaking Kira deeply. “I don’t know how Shay survived it all, Garret. I really don’t.” She lifted her hand. “And to come home to a broken ranch that she had to save, while having to deal with Crawford, all with the fear he’d be abusive toward her again . . . God . . .”

  “She’s a strong woman,” Garret agreed quietly. He began to move his hand lightly, slowly back and forth across her shoulders once more. He needed the contact with her, needed to help her in some small way. Garret could see his touch soothed Kira. He saw it instantly in her expression, and now he could literally feel her muscle tension dissolving beneath his hand.

  “Shay tries so hard. She cares so deeply . . .”

  “You’re built the same way as her.”

  Startled, she blinked. “Me? Oh no . . .”

  “That’s what I see.”

  Shaken, Kira shook her head. “Look at me. It’s been a year and I’m still a certifiable mess.”

  “You’re a brave person struggling to get well. That’s what I see.”

  “I think you’re prejudiced.”

  Garret held her gaze and gave her a slight smile. Lifting his hand, he smoothed a few strands of hair away from her cheek. Instantly, she flushed, and he saw her black pupils enlarge. Kira liked his touch. Liked this subtle form of intimacy from him. His hope rose even higher. And whether it was right or not, Garre
t could visualize Kira in his arms, in his bed, him loving her fully and completely.

  How he wanted to give back to this woman who had fought so long and hard by herself. She’d had no one, striking out on her own like so many vets did when returning home. The raw urge to support her, help her and be there for her, was eating him alive. And yet he had to pace himself so as not to frighten Kira off or shut her down toward him. Worse, the drama with Crawford was infecting everyone like the plague, distracting all of them. A black anger moved through Garret, but he squelched it. Kira needed him, not his own damned rage aimed at Crawford.

  He squeezed his hand on her shoulder, his voice lowering. “If I’m prejudiced it’s because you’ve always been a shining light in my life, Kira. I’ve seen you in so many situations: dangerous ones, happy ones. You’re a person who deserves respect and support. Nothing less.” Garret forced himself to remove his hand, and damned if he didn’t see regret come to Kira’s eyes as he did. Did she want his continued touch? Garret wanted to ask her, but it was the wrong time and place.

  “Thanks,” she offered softly, giving him a shy look. “So often I’ve fallen so far from my old self, Garret, that I forget there are still parts and pieces of me intact, deep within me. I’m not sure a shrink would understand what I’m saying, but that’s how I see it: I’m cobbling myself back together, one piece at a time. And sometimes I can’t find the piece I’m looking for.”

  “Because it’s gone?”

  “Yes.”

  Garret’s mouth moved into a soft line. “You’ll rebirth that missing piece sooner or later, Kira. I’ve found that to be true for myself. And in time I think you will, too. If you were always honest in the past, you’ll be honest now and in the future. If sunsets made you cry, that will come back, too.”

  “You’re so romantic, Garret.” She marveled at his sudden insight. “You have the soul of a poet. Did you know that? I’ve never seen this side of you before.”

  Growing a bit uncomfortable, he groused, “How could I expose it in Afghanistan? The team would have thought I was going nuts. I couldn’t talk to them like that. But I can with you.”

  She brightened a little. “I like this side of you. Stop hiding it, okay? I love what it does for me,” and she placed her hand over her heart. Kira saw his cheeks turn ruddy, his gaze skitter away from hers. Garret was actually embarrassed. And he was right: The man she lived with now versus the one in Afghanistan was different. But in the best of ways. She adored his gentleness and patience with her, but that had always been shared between them. Garret was like a big, patient bull. He was that way with everyone. “I really want to know what you think, how you see things,” she admitted in a low tone. “I like discovering these facets of you, Garret. You’re surprising me.”

  His mouth quirked. “Good surprises? I’m not that bag of goat turds?”

  She laughed quietly and shook her head. “I always saw you and the other guys like the knights of King Arthur’s round table.”

  “And which one was I?”

  Now it was her turn to flush. “Don’t laugh: Sir Galahad.”

  “You’re quite an idealist underneath that team cover you wore.”

  “Well, what was I going to do? Share that with all of you? You’d have laughed me off the team. Right?”

  “Probably,” Garret grudgingly admitted, a wicked grin on his face. “So, does that make you beautiful Guinevere?” He watched her cheeks grow red. Kira hadn’t paid that much attention to herself feminine-wise. She didn’t wear makeup, she didn’t do her hair except to wash it and pull a comb through it. Yet her grace, the sway of those small, beautifully shaped hips of hers; she was all woman. She might have worn male-type clothing, but that took nothing away from who she was: a nurturing, loving person.

  “I’ve never seen myself like that,” she admitted.

  “I like you just the way you are, Kira. Your hair is longer, though, and it looks good on you.”

  She studied him as the quiet descended between them. The clock on the wall showed that ten minutes had passed. “Thanks. I like you just the way you are too, Garret.”

  “No,” he deadpanned, “there’s nothing fancy about me,” and a small grin curved one corner of his mouth. He saw the worry gathering on Kira’s brow. “They’ve probably got a lot to talk about in there,” he told her, moving his head in the direction of the hall, where Reese and Shay had gone.

  “I don’t think this is going to get settled fast,” Kira agreed. “Do you think we should leave? They can come to get us when they’re really up for a discussion.”

  Garret nodded. He pulled out a notebook and a pen from his pocket. “Let’s leave them a note. I can get busy repairing equipment in the barn and you can go back to your translating duties. They know where to find us.”

  Relief flowed through Kira as she slowly stood and pushed back her chair. “Let me clean up the kitchen for Shay. It will only take a moment.”

  Nodding, Garret penned a quick note and left it where Reese would see it on the table. He was sure Shay was going to be emotionally totaled for hours to come, and neither Shay nor Reese needed the pressure of thinking they were sitting in the kitchen waiting for them.

  Lifting his head, Garret saw Kira quickly and efficiently clean the table, wrap up the warm cinnamon rolls and place them on the counter. His heart swelled with love for her. Even though she was under a lot of pressure herself, she still thought of others. It was one of the many things he loved about this woman he wanted to someday claim as his own.

  Chapter Eleven

  Reese felt relief flow through him as he picked up Garret’s note and read it. His gut was in utter turmoil as he put it down on the table and turned, moving to the bedroom where Shay had gone. His love for her was fierce and he wished there was some way to shield her from what her father had done to her.

  Mouth tightening as he walked down the hall to their bedroom, he ached to put a stop to her suffering and pain. But how did a person divorce a parent? The emotional ties were too deep.

  As he walked into their bedroom, Shay was sitting on the small sofa in the corner, wiping her damp cheeks, giving him a shamed look.

  “They’ve left,” he told her gently, coming to sit with her once more, taking her into his arms. Shay came willingly, tucking her head against his jaw, her arm going around his waist.

  “I’ve screwed up so badly,” she uttered, her voice wobbly. “I should have told Kira the truth about my father. I-I was so ashamed of it, Reese; that’s why I didn’t tell her.”

  He moved his hand gently over her mussed hair. “I understand. We’ll all get through this, Shay.”

  “I-I should have told you, too,” and she sniffed, wiping her cheek. “I’m sorry, Reese . . . so sorry . . . I was hoping when my father came back to the ranch all that would be behind him. That he wanted to be here to get better, to take back the part of his life he loved so much.”

  Kissing her hair, he rasped, “In my experience, an abuser doesn’t get better unless he wants to, Shay.”

  “I should have realized that,” she whispered. “I left Kira wide open to him. And . . . he hurt her. I can’t ever forgive myself for that . . .” She pressed her face into his shirt, fresh tears coming.

  “Kira will live,” he reassured her in a thick voice, continuing to smooth his hand slowly up and down her back. “She’ll forgive you. What’s more important is that we do something about it. Your father won’t be allowed to do this to anyone else ever again.” He eased her away just enough to look down at her shattered expression. “We need to decide what to do. Whether he can continue to live here on the ranch or not. He’s recovering and getting better every day.”

  Nodding, Shay said, “Yes, we need to do something, but what? He wanted to come back home. I couldn’t blame him. I’d hate being in a nursing home, too.”

  Cupping her chin, Reese looked deeply into her moist eyes. “Has he been abusing you again, Shay, since you’ve been home?”

  Swallowing hard, sh
e whispered unsteadily, “When I came home after getting out of the military hospital, at first he was just verbally and emotionally abusive toward me. He didn’t want me back here, Reese. He wanted me gone. He told me there was no place for me at the ranch, that it was running fine without me.”

  “Which,” Reese said grimly, “it wasn’t. He’d chased off all the wranglers and the ranch had fallen into a state of disrepair. All the fences needed to be replaced and he’d lost all his pasture leases, which was his main source of income. Ray had no money coming in when you arrived.”

  Sitting up a bit, Shay pushed her dark hair off her cheek. “Yes, it was a mess. It took me about a month to realize what had happened.” She gave her husband a sad look. “One morning here, in the kitchen, I was making us breakfast. This was after his stroke. I asked him about hiring a wrangler. He flew into a rage.” Her voice dropped and Shay looked away, shame in her expression. “He slapped me. I was so shocked. I don’t know why, because after Mom died he used to hit me all the time when he got angry.”

  Reese smoothed his fingers across her cheek. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you, Shay.”

  “Well,” she murmured, “this time I was older and more mature. I’d spent years in the military, in combat zones, and I didn’t stand there taking it. I balled up my fist and hit him in the jaw as hard as I could.” She shrugged. “It shocked him. His nose was bleeding.”

  “Did he come at you again?”

  “No. He cursed me. But he never . . . ever . . . tried to hit me again.”

  “You took a stand,” Reese said tautly, moving his hand across her shoulders. “He never expected you to hit back.”