Her Hidden Falls Anti-Hero Cowboy

by Taylor Hart

  “What are you talking about?”

  Richard shook his head. “The fact you’ve never loved anyone else.” He lifted his eyebrows. “All I know is that if I had a beautiful woman like that, that looked at me like she looks at you, I would fight for her. I would take back what rightfully belonged to me.”

  Chapter 30

  The ride back to Hidden Falls had been quiet. Ryan didn’t know if Charlotte was really asleep or not, but he tried to focus on the soothing classical music and not all the emotions that were circling through him. He needed to drop her off, drive back to Charleston, and be done. He didn’t want to play Richard’s infuriating game. He didn’t need this grief.

  He needed to put as much distance as possible between himself and Hidden Falls as he could.

  “What happened to you?”

  Her voice jolted him. He turned down the music. “What?”

  A soft laugh escaped her lips, but she kept her eyes closed. “I’m sorry, but I seriously cannot believe Ryan Hardman listens to classical music.”

  Ryan relaxed and glanced at her. “Hey, it’s soothing.”

  Another soft laugh. “I know. It makes me want to sleep.”

  “Exactly.”

  She didn’t speak for a few minutes. “And those shoes.”

  “What’s wrong with my shoes?”

  “Nothing.” She exhaled loudly. “Really, what happened to you, Ry?”

  The way she asked it, as if she knew he would tell her, made his throat tighten. “I don’t think you should call me Ry.”

  She didn’t speak for a few minutes. Then she shifted her body toward him. “In that cave, what wasn’t on the news expose?”

  He cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

  “Liar. You listen to classical music now. To the average person that might not seem like a big deal, but I know you. From the first time I got in the truck with you to haul hay you told me the station stayed on country.”

  His throat tightened, again. He rubbed it with one hand and tried not to think of how cute she’d been when she rode in the truck with him.

  “And you always claimed you could run faster in boots than regular shoes, not to mention your regular clothes.”

  He touched his silk shirt. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

  “Well.”

  “I grew up.”

  She sat up and moved the seat back upright. “Lots of adults listen to country music and wear boots.”

  Quickly, he flipped on the radio and turned it to the country station. “There. Happy.” He didn’t know why he felt so angry all of a sudden.

  She turned the radio off. “What did they do to torture you?”

  Sweat budded on his forehead and he cracked the window. He’d never talked about it. Even with Alan and Richard. They kept it on the edges of their conversations, but never directly spoke of it. It was just their unwritten thing.

  Her hand touched his forearm. “Ryan?”

  He yanked his arm away. “It’s . . . You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I want to.”

  Pain pressed into his chest, like an evil scientist squeezing with metal tongs. “Char . . . Charlotte, just . . . please . . .” He ended it breathless.

  “It’s okay.” She said it fast. “It’s all right, Ryan.”

  The fields flew past them. He tried to focus on something, anything else, but he couldn’t.

  Finally, he reached for the radio. His hand shook. Immediately he dropped it back down. PTSD. Maybe he was having an attack or something. The therapist had mentioned they could come on and you wouldn’t even know it.

  Charlotte put her hand over his. “Ryan?”

  The way her hand warmed his gave him strength. He found himself starting to talk. “It was bad, Char . . . Charlotte.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Char is fine.”

  He glanced at her eyes. They were open and kind. “I . . . for me it wasn’t so much the torturing. I know that must sound stupid. It . . . Char . . .”

  “Just keep talking.”

  “It’s never about what they did to me. I mean, yeah, it sucked. It was bad. It was worse watching my men die. Honestly, I think Alan and Richard and I would have lost the will long before we had a chance to escape if our rage at watching them kill the other men hadn’t kept us alive.”

  He paused, but Charlotte didn’t speak.

  He relaxed. “The day we escaped was just another day of torture, until one of the guards ran off suddenly. We had no idea where we were at that point. The guards had been extremely careful not to divulge where they were hiding us. It’s part of their strategy—make us feel completely isolated and hopeless, like escape is not possible. They wanted to break us. Get information. Which was nearly impossible for Special Ops like us. We were trained not to break. We were given tools to shut ourselves off.” He thought of the men that had died keeping American secrets far out of the enemy’s reach.

  “Anyway, one of the guards rushed out and I just . . . I just knew this was the day. I went for the guard that was in the room with us. Before I knew it, Alan was on top of him and Richard had his gun. We just went on instinct after that, systematically working our way through the tunnel, shooting only if we had to.”

  His hand shook. He thought of the cracking noise when he’d yanked the neck of one of the guards that had tortured him. There wasn’t a pang of regret inside him over that.

  “What?”

  He blinked and all of it crashed through him. “We got to the end of the tunnel. By this time each of us had a gun. There was a village.” He sucked in a breath. “There was this mother holding her baby. A daughter. An older woman. There was a market going on around us. Crazy, right? A market in the middle of a Taliban camp. You could tell that they were as surprised to see us come out of that tunnel as we were to see them.”

  She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay.” Her voice broke.

  Emotion raged through him. He pulled the car over. Anger and remorse and repulsion washed through him, hitting him with the force of a punch so hard he couldn’t breathe. “They scattered like ants and gunfire flew at us.”

  “Ryan.”

  “We killed them. All of them. The women, the children. The sons that were running to get their fathers. The other men that circled and lifted guns. We were trained killers. Slaughtering a village wasn’t hard for us.”

  Tears streamed down Ryan’s face. He touched them, surprised.

  “We picked up more guns as we ran, until we got away.” He leaned over the steering wheel and pulled in a breath.

  Small circles were rubbed into his back. “Shh. It’s okay.”

  “Those children. I see their faces when I sleep. I think of the stunned way their faces froze when a bullet hit them. It wasn’t their fault. None of it was their fault. The mothers. Their fear. It lives right here.” He sat up and pounded the center of his chest. “Right here.” He gulped in a breath. “And no amount of running, cliff jumping, scaling mountains without safety gear—no amount of crazy will stop it.” He knew he probably sounded like some freak, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  Tears streamed down Charlotte’s cheeks.

  “I think of my life. Was it worth it? Was it worth theirs?” He pounded the steering wheel. “It wasn’t. Not the kids. The moms. My life wasn’t worth all that blood and carnage.”

  A sob spilled out of him.

  Charlotte cried, too.

  He unbuckled and threw open the car door. He went to a rock lying on the ground and threw it as far as he could.

  Slowly, Charlotte got out of the car.

  He picked up another rock and threw it. It hit a tree and fell to the ground.

  More tears fell down his cheeks. Anger raged through him.

  “I hate myself, Char. I hate what I did. I hate what they did. I hate—”

  Her hand on his shoulder stopped him. She was no longer crying, although her eyes were red and puffy.

  They stood there surrounded in grief and love and pain.

>   She put both hands on his face. Her soft hands. Her green eyes, lighted with emotion. Then she tenderly pulled him to her.

  Their lips met. He smelled lemon. He pushed his hands into her wild curls.

  Their bodies slid closer. He felt free, elated, released from the bondage he’d been carrying around for so long.

  This felt perfect. Exactly where he should have been his whole life.

  Home.

  She pulled away and panted in a breath. The sides of her eyes creased. “Never doubt your life was preserved for a reason, Ryan Hardman.”

  He kept his arms around her and another round of tears fell down his cheeks. “Do you believe in God? Really?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t hesitate.

  He scrubbed his face with his hand.

  She pushed him away and stared into his face. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes. No . . . I want to. I want to believe that there was a reason for that, my dad, not seeing my mom. Not being there for you.”

  Charlotte searched his eyes. “For me?”

  He nodded. “You have always been at the top of my list.” His voice was soft. He couldn’t believe he was telling her this.

  Charlotte blinked and looked away from him. She was quiet for a second and then she sighed. “I know people say, ‘how can you believe in God when all the bad things happen in the world?’”

  “Exactly.”

  She closed her eyes for a second then opened them. “That’s why I believe in Him.”

  He shook his head.

  “Because all these bad things happen, and we get through them. My dad . . .” Her voice wavered. “My dad always said, ‘sometimes the only thing you get to choose is—’”

  “To be happy or to be sad.” Ryan filled in for her. He remembered Frank saying that to him.

  “I mean it. The Lord saved you for a reason, Ry. He helped you guys escape because He has a purpose for you.”

  He sucked in a breath. All the things he’d heard from Alan, Richard, the therapist. All the things he didn’t know if he could ever believe.

  She pressed her head against his chest. “I’m glad you got out. I’m sorry for those people, but I’m happy you’re here.”

  Ryan held her. He held her like a drowning man being thrown a life preserver. The only thing he knew was that Charlotte Talon was in his arms.

  And, right or wrong, he loved her.

  Chapter 31

  The car stopped in front of her mother’s house. Immediately, Sam appeared and ran down the stairs.

  Ryan got out of the car and grabbed her bag from the back.

  Sam slammed against her, and she saw her mother at the top of the stairs.

  “So what’s the verdict?” Her mother took the steps quickly.

  The answer Charlotte should give her was that it was hopeless. They should start packing. The war was over before it had even begun, but she kept Sam against her and bit the inside of her lip.

  Ryan answered. “Richard’s looking for solutions.”

  Charlotte didn’t correct him.

  Her mother smiled and pulled Ryan into a hug. “You don’t know how relieved that makes me.”

  Ryan looked back at her and hugged her mother. He winked at Charlotte. “Richard will be here in two days, in Joe’s office to discuss the will. We’ll know more then.”

  Charlotte saw tears forming in the sides of her mother’s eyes and she tried to hold back her own. What was he doing? He knew, as well as she did, that things weren’t okay.

  Sam pulled away from her and followed Ryan back to his car. “Where are you going? You could stay for dinner. I could show you some more planets.”

  The side of Ryan’s lip quirked up. “You could?”

  Something happy wormed its way into Charlotte’s chest. Everything about the fact that Sam liked Ryan so much used to tick Charlotte off. But now . . . it felt different.

  Ryan ruffled Sam’s hair. “Can’t tonight, kid.”

  “We could go for a horse ride. My grandma says you know paths around this ranch that no one except my papa knew.” Sam was hard to deter.

  Ryan hesitated and looked at her mother.

  Her mother shrugged. “He was asking about you today, so I told him.”

  Sam tugged at his hand. “C’mon, let’s go for a ride.”

  A full-blown grin spread across Ryan’s face. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

  Charlotte hated that his smile was nice, especially when it was real and unguarded and genuine.

  “Stay for dinner,” her mother insisted.

  Ryan glanced at her mother then back to Sam. “I made a promise that I have to keep tonight, but how ‘bout I take you for a ride tomorrow?”

  Sam did a happy dance. “Can he, Mom? Puh-lease?”

  The week’s schedule went through her mind. Sam had special tutoring for math tomorrow after school, and she was relieved he did. “No, you have tutoring tomorrow.”

  Sam’s face fell. “No.”

  Ryan clicked his tongue. “Sorry sport, maybe next time.”

  “Ryan could tutor him.” Her mother took a step and put a hand on Charlotte’s arm. “He’s always been so good in math. Remember when he tutored you in the calculus class your senior year?”

  A prick of annoyance passed through her, and she narrowed her eyes at her mother.

  “Could he? Could he?” Sam ran back to her and hopped up and down. “Please, Mom?”

  Charlotte turned to Ryan. She wasn’t sure what to do, but she relented. “Well, I guess you’ll have to ask Ryan.”

  Sam leaped away from her. “Can you? Can you? Please?”

  Ryan laughed. “Okay, it’s a deal. I’ll see you at four tomorrow afternoon.”

  Chapter 32

  An hour later, Ryan sped from the small airport outside of Hidden Falls back to the Hardman ranch. He didn’t know why he’d gone to the rental agency outside of the airport and asked for a truck. It was ridiculous. It didn’t make sense. It was unpractical since he was only going to be here for another three days anyway. Totally unneeded.

  He also couldn’t explain how come it felt so good to drive one. It also felt good to see the house all lit up on the ranch. It felt good to drive down the dirt road and know the truck could take it. It was solid, strong, and capable.

  It made him feel that way, too.

  Beau came out of the side door just as Ryan parked.

  Lorna rushed out beside him. A white apron covered her from the waist down, and she had flecks of flour on her face.

  His stomach growled. Mondays were her baking day. He was glad that hadn’t changed.

  She met him at the side of his truck. “You missed dinner, but I’ll get you a glass of milk and some bread.” She hugged him quickly and then busily pulled away from him. “Oh,” she said and stopped, “and some homemade jam. I still have strawberry in the freezer.”

  Ryan smiled and watched her scuttle back to the house. “You always knew the way to my heart, Lorna.”

  Beau stood in front of the truck. His blond hair was sweaty on his neck. He was brown and dirty from his white shirt down to his jeans and boots. He folded his arms. Ryan saw the brown ring around the top of his head from where his cowboy hat had been. “What’s up, bro?” He spat the last part.

  Ryan shut the truck door and crossed his arms in answer. “I don’t know, bro. Why don’t you tell me why you never took my name off the property?”

  Beau scrunched up his face and yanked the toothpick from between his teeth. “You gonna start this fight?”

  Ryan didn’t want to fight tonight. He didn’t. He just wanted answers.

  Beau kicked the dirt and threw the toothpick onto the ground. His eyes got glassy. “Maybe we would have told you—if you would have come home after that junk in Afghanistan.” He blinked. “You could have told us.”

  The center of Ryan’s chest, where all the anger had been building since Sean told him about the property yesterday, deflated and left an empty space. A hollow space. That space
he’d completely shut off the past few years was left exposed. He didn’t move.

  In two steps, Beau reached him and pulled him into a hug.

  Ryan felt the strong arms of his brother pulling him against him. He felt his brother start to shake. Then he did something he’d never imagined he could do. He hugged him back. Hard.

  Beau hugged even harder and pounded him on the back. “Those jerks should know better than to mess with a Hardman.”

  Ryan felt the pin in his chest that he’d put back in after he’d broken down to Charlotte, completely unhinge again. He couldn’t stop the tears that gushed.

  Beau just held him, supported him.

  It was strange that a cantankerous brother could make him crumble again so quickly.

  Ryan heard the screen door open.

  Sean walked out. He was in boots and jeans and looked as dirty as Beau, but he was grinning. “What’s going on?”

  Ryan laughed through his sob. “I got a truck.”

  Sean looked at the truck and then threw his arms around both his brothers. “I guess we’ll have to loan ya some boots, too.”

  Beau laughed, his face muddy from the dirt and tears. “Look at us. We’re having a moment.”

  Ryan felt the happiness, pain, and joy of the moment mix together. He tried to pull back and lost his balance.

  Sean reached for him. “Steady is the man with his brothers at his side.”

  Sean and Beau moved him toward the door. “Who said that?” Beau asked.

  Sean pulled the door wide. “I did.”

  Ryan and Beau roared with laughter.

  Beau nudged him. “Perfect, now he’s quoting himself.”

  Ryan sat at the kitchen table, and Lorna plunked food in front of him and patted his shoulder. “Eat.”

  He grinned at his brothers. They knew. They finally knew what had happened. They finally knew why he hadn’t been able to come home for his mother’s funeral. He sucked in a breath and wiped at his face.

  Beau sat. “Shoot, Ry, I watched that exposé and realized that you always had to steal all my thunder.”

  It was their joke. The joke had been born from Beau’s resentment, since he was the younger brother and Ryan had done everything first and better, but now he was teasing.