by Linda Berry
“Steady, boy.” He smoothed a pad across the gelding’s back, hoisted the saddle, and centered it over the pad.
“I’m still here, Sully. You plan on just ignoring me?”
He didn’t know how to start a conversation where he didn’t want to know the outcome.
“We exchanged love letters right up until you got shot. After that, I got one letter. It was like a form letter.”
With his back to her, he hooked the stirrup over the saddle horn, reached under Dakota’s belly for the cinch strap.
“Talk to me, Sully. I’ve been worried sick about you.”
He threaded the latigo through the cinch ring, pulled it tight. “Some things shouldn’t be taken for granted.”
“I’m listening.”
“When I was in the hospital, I got a letter from a friend over here.” He blew out an angry breath, turned and faced her. “Seems you were seeing other men while I was gone.”
Her eyes widened. “Whoa, is that jealousy I’m hearing?”
He didn’t trust his voice to speak.
“You know damn well that whenever you were home, I was only with you.”
“And when I wasn’t?”
“We didn’t have a commitment, Sully.” She held up her left hand, eyes flashing. “I sure don’t see a ring on my finger.”
“We had an understanding.”
“An understanding doesn’t keep a girl warm at night. How many men was I supposed to be seeing?”
“You tell me,” he said, barely breathing.
“One.”
“Who?”
“Lance.”
“Your trainer?” He knew she’d cheated but the admission hit him hard, a sharp jab to the solar plexus. It hurt worse to learn it was Lance Carter, Sully’s fiercest competitor in his rodeo days. The two had alternately taken first place at top rodeos. After Sully was deployed, Lance went on to make world champion, then used his fame to launch a career as a top trainer.
“It’s because of Lance I ranked state champion in barrel racing last year,” she said. “I told you in my letters I was working with him.”
“Guess I didn’t know what you meant by working.” Sully barely kept his anger in check. “He’s married.”
“Separated.”
“Because of you?”
She lowered her eyes, shoved her hands into her pockets.
Despite the cold, he was sweating. He removed the halter and bridled Dakota.
“I like having a man in my life,” she said, a note of defiance in her tone. “I’m not gonna pretend otherwise. You made your choice to join the Marines, to go off to some God-forsaken desert, leave me behind with no commitment.” She gave him time to reflect and then her voice softened. “You and I always managed to pick up where we left off. Your last leave, you were pretty happy to see me.”
“I didn’t know about Lance.”
“Let’s be truthful, Sully. You didn’t want to know. You just wanted me to be available when you needed me. I was.”
“Is that what you think? Not true. I trusted you.” He swallowed, moistening his dry throat. “Are you in love with him?”
“You’re the only man I’ve ever been in love with.”
He stopped what he was doing, gave her his full attention.
She approached him, standing close. “That’s why I’m here.”
He didn’t move, trying to suppress the deep longing he felt.
“I waited a long time for you to come home,” she said gently, slipping her arms around his waist, tilting her face up to his. “Tell me you’re a lil’ bit happy to see me.”
Sully’s whole body tensed and then slowly relaxed into hers. Intimate memories stirred in his mind and he pulled her close. He had dreamt of holding her like this, breathing in the smell of her.
“Now you’re home for good, we can be together again.” Her voice sounded self-assured, convincing, soft as a breeze. “Let me take care of you.”
He could just go with it. Let her do the thinking for him. Enjoy how good she felt, how beautiful she looked. He lowered his head and kissed her with a hunger that ran bone deep. A sweet sensation ferried him away from a world filled with trouble and pain. “Jesus, I’ve missed you,” he murmured.
“I missed you, too. Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” he said without hesitation. He kissed her again, feeling weightless, gliding on a current of deepening pleasure. Then the pain of her betrayal sliced into his mind like slivers of glass. She let Lance kiss her like this. Touch her … What am I doing?
“I can’t do this.” He abruptly pulled away, his arms dropping like dead weight.
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes shone bright in the dim light. Her mouth was flushed with color.
They stood facing each other. The only thing moving were dust motes dancing in columns of slanted light. He wanted to kiss her again, lay her back in the hay, melt her down to raw emotion but he also wanted to punish her, shake her violently, make her hurt like he was hurting. “I stayed faithful to you, Lilah, for four long years. The thought of coming home to you was the only thing that kept me sane. I watched friends die. Got fucking shot at. It was hard. But I stuck it out because I made a commitment. You had it easy over here. All you had to do was wait.”
Silence.
He saw her chin quiver. “Why didn’t you marry me?” she whispered.
“I wanted to.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Doesn’t matter now. You’ve been with Lance.”
“It does matter. I have a right to know.”
“I was going to war, Lilah. I could die, or come home different, without limbs, or with a brain injury. It didn’t seem fair.”
“You never had to go!”
“At the time, it was the right thing to do. Our country was attacked. Innocent people died.”
“You could’ve stayed in rodeo. You were almost at the top.”
He said nothing. They’d had these same arguments before he left. Four years later, nothing had changed.
“Sully, let’s get past this. I can make it up to you.”
“You broke up Lance’s marriage. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
She stared blankly. “I didn’t expect him to fall in love with me.”
“You just used him until I came home?”
“He can go back to his wife.”
“What?” The callousness of her words felt like ice water in his gut. He tried to grasp the depth of her deceit. Why had he never seen this side of her before? Suddenly he felt exhausted. The kind of exhaustion you couldn’t sleep off. “Go home, Lilah. I can’t deal with this right now. I have other problems. My dad needs help. I have to turn this ranch around. Take care of these animals. Plant hay.”
“Let me help you.”
“How? You wanna nurse my dad? Give me a big pile of money?”
Her face looked fragile, like she might be on the verge of tears. “You just said you love me.”
“I do.” He set his jaw, resolute. “But it isn’t enough.”
Slowly, the muscles tightened in her face. “All right, Sully. Be bull-headed about this but think real hard about what you passed up today.”
Jesus, he knew.
She pulled her jacket tighter, crossed her arms. “Don’t put me aside for too long. I’m just about done waiting for you.”
An ache in his chest worked its way up to his throat. His body felt leaden as he placed his boot in the stirrup and mounted Dakota. Glancing down at her, he tipped his hat, something he did out of habit to acquaintances.
Her eyes flashed, angry.
He pressed his heels into Dakota’s sides and the gelding moved forward with a start. Sully spurred him into a lope, putting quick distance between himself and Lilah. He heard the Dodge Ram cough once, twice, and then the engine hummed and slowly faded away. The dreaded confrontation had come and gone. He had resisted Lilah’s temptations but it brought him no relief, just a searing ache inside. He couldn’t relate to their former romance.
The easiness of it. The grace of being in love and sharing passion as exciting as a lightning storm. He was no longer the rodeo star she fell in love with, who lived with a sense of entitlement, and had folks looking up to him like he walked on water. Right now, he needed to stay grounded. He needed to be able to walk around in his own skin. That was something no one could take away.
Sully realized he was heading up to the mountains. Hunkering down in his sheepskin coat with the collar turned up, he concentrated on the stony, narrow trail that snaked through the forest, leading away from the ranch and all its complications. The terrain grew steeper, the shrill wind sandpapered his face. His ears were numb. Accustomed to discomfort, he welcomed it. It kept his mind clear, his instincts sharp. The Tennessee Walker was the perfect travel horse with its powerful, compact frame and flat walk gait, providing a smooth, gliding ride. Dakota’s ears were pricked forward, showing curiosity and good mood. A horse was loyal, and would turn on you only if abused. As though in agreement, Dakota snorted, huffing out frozen air.
The forest of ponderosa pine opened to a wide, snowy meadow. Spikes of frozen bunch grass sparkled in the sun like glass. Silence enveloped him except for the cadence of Dakota’s hooves and the melody of a gushing stream winding through the grass, its banks encrusted in ice. The surrounding rock formations looked like dwellings from another world, sculpted into icy spires and hoodoos.
Five miles or so passed beneath Dakota’s hooves before Sully picked up the mineral odor of wet rock, and he knew he’d reached his destination. He dismounted and led Dakota to the edge of a steaming pool sheltered by smooth granite boulders and the mottled white trunks of aspen trees. Enclosed in rock and warmed from the primal heat of the earth, the hot spring had been a Paiute sanctuary for generations. Travis first brought him here when he was seven. Sully remembered how awed he was by the hot water rising steadily up from the earth. Since then Sully made the journey here often, seeking solitude and refuge from the burdens of life.
He stripped off his clothes, tested the surface with his toes, then sank into hot water up to his chin. Heaving out a weary sigh, he stretched out his limbs and let the soothing heat penetrate deep into his stiff muscles. He soaked for an hour, occasionally rising from the pool to sit on a frigid boulder to cool down. The subdued color of the landscape and the vapor rising off the water gave the place a serene and mystical quality. Here in the quiet perfection of nature, he felt communion with a higher power, and he reflected on the jagged twists and turns of his life. What was God trying to teach him with these gut-wrenching trials by fire, one after the other?
The old Michael Sullivan—rodeo star, Marine, trusting boyfriend, obedient son—was a fading ghost. After Sully pieced the scattered fragments of his life back together, what would be left? Who would he be? Closing his eyes, he drew his attention into himself and prayed for guidance to help him live his life purposefully, to make sound decisions, to act with honesty and courage. Then he lay back and listened to the subtle sounds of nature, trying to glean some signal that would be instructive. The stillness of the place seemed to swell with the presence of a transcendent power. He received no definitive message but he was filled with the inner certainty that he was not alone in this world and he would not be abandoned. The stillness eased his tension and in time his mood came to mirror the calm surface of the pool.
He pulled himself from the steaming water and waited for his skin to dry, then he quickly dressed. He mounted Dakota and retraced the horse’s hoof prints back down the mountain. His lightness of being faded with the heat from the hot spring, and after many miles, the ranch swept into view in the valley below, and the weight of his problems descended upon him one by one.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The evening sun cresting along the mountain range blinded Justin, who was riding shotgun in the Ford Expedition. He tugged down the brim of his hat while Avery adjusted her visor, the sunset reflected on her sunglasses. She turned into the lot of a shopping mall, maneuvered through rows of parked cars, and pulled up in front of Renegade Rags. Hanging in the windows were posters of fashion models dressed in expensive western wear and staged in front of hay wagons and bleached-out barns.
Avery smiled at him. “Wanna grab your boots?”
Justin looked at the store dubiously. “A hole-in-the-wall shoe repair is all I need. They probably charge twice as much here.”
“Come on, Justin. Let’s check it out.” Avery got out and stood waiting, her sandaled foot tapping the pavement. She wore large sunglasses and a little flowered summer dress that bared her back and legs. Her red hair was pulled back from her pale shoulders and her freckled skin looked blotchy from the heat. At seven o’clock, it was still ninety degrees outside.
With a sigh, he climbed out, took her arm and guided her into the store. Immediately, he was assaulted by a blast of air conditioning and the smell of new leather. The shoe department was right up front and rows of hand-tooled boots were on display in a spectrum of colors, boasting every kind of inlay; crocodile, ostrich, rattlesnake. A couple of cowboys sat bent over tugging on boots. Justin picked up a Paul Bond boot similar to the pair stolen by Porky, and he felt sudden anger pulse through his system. He’d saved for a year to buy those boots, kept them immaculate, and only wore them at rodeos and special events. It’d take a serious paycheck to get boots like that again.
Avery led the way to the service window and Justin placed his weathered boots on the polished countertop. They hadn’t been worn in months, yet he’d resisted throwing them out. The boots were like an old friend, rugged, reliable, protecting him from a storm of mud and manure in their day. Now in desperate need of resoling, they looked as out of place as he was feeling.
“Looks like these boots have walked around the world twice,” the florid-faced clerk said with a chuckle, peering at him over his glasses.
“Pretty much.” Justin guessed the clerk was thinking the boots weren’t worth fixing.
“Here’s your ticket. Check back tomorrow. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks.” He stuffed the ticket inside his wallet, which was feeling very lean these days.
“Come try these on, hon.” Avery stood examining a pair of sturdy work boots.
Embarrassed by his worn-out running shoes, Justin took her by the elbow and tried to steer her toward the front door. “Time to go.”
“Don’t be like that.” She smiled, her warm eyes making him melt just a little bit. “You could use a few things in here.”
He crossed his arms. “You know my credit card’s maxed out.”
“My treat.”
“Thank you, but no.”
“You’ve earned this. You’ve fixed my garbage disposal and a bunch of other things.” She stared at him earnestly. “You’ve saved me a lot of money.”
“And you’re putting me up and feeding me.”
“Come on,” she said in a honeyed tone that he couldn’t refuse. “Just try them on.”
The well-shod salesman, dressed in creased Wranglers and an embroidered western shirt now hovered at her elbow. Avery told him to bring a pair of the boots in Justin’s size. He left and returned promptly carting a large boot box.
“These will protect your feet from everything,” the salesman said. “Steel toes. Waterproof.”
Justin sat down and pulled them on. Then he stood and paced the carpet, admiring them in the mirror. Good leather. Well-constructed. Super comfortable.
“The cement in the heel gives steady footing and support,” the salesman said.
“How do they feel?” Avery asked after the salesman left to help another customer.
“Expensive.” He looked at the price on the box, whistled. Three hundred dollars. He yanked them off, put his running shoes back on, and escaped down an aisle, hearing her heeled sandals clicking the linoleum behind him. After settling a brown Stetson on his head, he chose a hat with a wide brim and a stuffed rattler hatband, turned and placed it on Avery’s head. It fell over her face to the tip of her n
ose. Fangs bared, the rattler stared ominously at him. She laughed, flashing even white teeth. He tilted her chin and planted a kiss on her mouth, tasted her strawberry-flavored lip-gloss. “You’re gorgeous.”
She whipped off the hat, her face as bright as a lantern. A constellation of freckles glimmered across her nose and cheeks. Tax season had ended and it was her first weekend off, and the first time he’d seen tension disappear completely from her face. Not wanting to ruin her fun, he allowed her to take his hand and guide him to the men’s clothing section. He looked with interest at the wide variety of shirts and jeans and pulled a blue plaid shirt off the rack. Mother-of-pearl snap buttons, embroidered stitching on the pockets, good cotton. Ninety-eight dollars. It almost burned his fingers as he placed it back on the rack.
“That would look killer on you with your baby blues,” Avery said, brown eyes brightening. She pulled the shirt off the rack.
“I’ve got plenty of shirts.” Buck a piece at the thrift store.
“Not this nice. My company’s having an end-of-season party next weekend.” She looked at him sweetly. “My boss and co-workers will be there. I want you to look nice.”
He resisted groaning. Justin liked the quiet life they were living, just the two of them, insulated from the rest of the world. It’s what he needed right now. But Avery had her needs too. He couldn’t bail out on her, and she was right, he couldn’t show up in worn, faded clothes. “Just the shirt,” he said grudgingly. “Maybe jeans.”
Moved by her generosity, he felt a lump form in his throat. No one had ever bought him anything new before. All the clothes he got at St. Teresa’s were charity hand-me-downs. Distracted, he moved down the aisle until the sound of squeaky wheels made him glance over his shoulder. Avery was bearing down on him with a shopping cart stockpiled with clothing. A leather jacket, shirts, jeans, the brown Stetson he’d tried on.
“What are you doing?” he asked too loudly. He pulled the hat and leather jacket out of the cart and retraced her steps, placing them back on the racks, the squeaky wheels staying close behind. “Stop stalking me with that thing.”
She fished the hat back from the rack and put it in the shopping basket but froze with the jacket when she saw his face. “Don’t give me that look, Justin.”