Her Lone Cowboy

As he stared out at the yard, he heard coyotes, the bothersome pack that roamed the area and had probably been responsible for the disappearance of many domestic animals. No doubt, the predators had dens in the nearby Mule Mountains, where they hid out, waiting for some unsuspecting cat or jackrabbit to happen by—

A sudden scream split the air, sparking a shiver up Caleb’s spine. That sound wasn’t made by a coyote, but he didn’t know what had made it since he’d never heard it before.

It came again, high and sharp. It wasn’t human, but it ignited a memory of a fire fight, of Mack, wounded, fallen, clutching his side as he tried to swallow cries of anguish that would attract more enemy fire to their position.

Memories overwhelming him, Caleb rushed to the door, grabbing his rifle on his way out. He didn’t know where the attack would be coming from, but he was ready. Crouching, moving stealthily, he slipped off the porch and hunkered down into a shooting stance as far as his bad leg would let him. His gaze swept the yard then the area beyond.

He saw something ahead of him, moving through the low bushes, too fast and steady to be a man doing the belly crawl. What was it?

The creature turned its head. Caleb saw the flash of yellow eyes. It wasn’t human. But what was it? Confused, he stepped forward. The crack of a stick breaking under his foot snapped in the air and jerked Caleb back to reality.

Whatever he’d seen in the yard disappeared with a gentle whoosh of sound.

He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, working to recall why he was standing out in the yard in his underwear. He glanced down. He held a piece of one-by-two-inch board, the one he used to prop open the living-room window.

Hands falling to his sides, he stood for a minute, concentrating on his breathing, letting his waking nightmare dissipate as he shoved the memory back into the mental vault where he kept it under lock and key.

His gaze moved out past the yard and the barn to the pasture where he’d encountered Sam and Laney earlier, then beyond to their house where a porch light speared the darkness. He couldn’t even see the outline of the house, only the glow of the light, a faint beacon of reassurance.

Reassurance? He didn’t need reassurance. He needed to be left alone.

He lifted the board, holding it up in front of his face. He’d thought it was his rifle; that he was going to protect his home with it.

No. He couldn’t be a neighbor. It wasn’t time yet.

He turned back to the house with a sound of disgust, returned the board to the sill of the window, which he double-checked to make sure it was closed and locked.

Bertie, asleep on his favorite rug, raised his head as if willing to commiserate, but then apparently decided that Caleb was doing a good enough job of being miserable on his own. He dropped his head on his paws and sighed.

Caleb looked down at the old dog. “Yeah, buddy, that’s how I feel.”

He wandered into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. Leaning against the sink, he drank it down, grateful for the miracle of clean, good-tasting water, so unlike the filtered, never-quite-right stuff they’d had in Afghanistan.

Like all the other military personnel, they’d consumed bottled water by the gallon, along with electrolyte drinks. When he’d come back to the States, he’d never been able to get enough clean water into him and he still drank more than he ever had in his younger years. He set the empty glass down and stood with his hands gripping the edge of the sink. The memories were close tonight and he couldn’t seem to shove them away as he usually could. He’d been back for more than a year and a half, but as his mother had said, he’d left the war but he’d never really come home.

Pushing away from the sink, he wandered back to the living-room window and stood, arms crossed over his chest, staring into the darkness while he thought about his new neighbors.

“What do you think, Bert? You think she ever had a husband?”

He glanced down. Bertie’s gentle snores told him that this man’s best friend couldn’t have been less interested.

In spite of that, Caleb continued with his speculation. “Did the guy abandon her and Sam? Didn’t care that he had a wife and kid?”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he thought it over. “Maybe she was impossible to live with.” He straightened, his arms dropping to his sides as another thought came to him. “Or did she always want to be a single mom so she got some clinical assistance?”

He ran his thumb along the stubble on his chin. “Nothing wrong with that, Bert. But, nah, I don’t think so. I think...that I’m losing my friggin’ mind.”

Caleb admitted he was out of his element and had been for a while.

At one time he’d had an unerring sense of direction, a built-in compass that could point him the right way even if it was pitch-black outside and only safe to move a few inches. Now he tried to defend his home from night noises with a stick and stood staring at his neighbor’s house.

And he didn’t even care about his neighbors.

He turned, headed back to bed, giving in to the twinge in his leg that told him he’d been on it too long and ignoring the one in his gut that told him he was a liar.

* * *

BY THE NEXT afternoon Laney thought she may have convinced her son that he wasn’t to visit Caleb, or Bertie, until he was invited. She had left him inside to play with a building set he was using to make a replica of Caleb’s place.

Sam had only seen the yard and the house, but in his imagination it contained endless corrals made of snap-together pieces of plastic fencing, as well as a barn of cardboard and masking tape.

With a few minutes to herself, she decided to take a break from organizing her house and get her turn-outs ready for the coming fire season. During the summers when school was out, Laney was a wild-land firefighter, a member of Fire Team 8, currently an all-woman group that fought wildfires during the summer. There had been men on the team in the past and there probably would be again, but right now, it was all women who, like Laney, had families and additional jobs. The money from fighting fires paid for both necessities and luxuries.

She spread her coat, pants and boots out on the patio attached to the back of the house and examined them closely for damage. Her fire boots appeared to be in good shape, as did her coat, but there was a rip in her pants caused when she’d fallen over a log last summer and snagged them on a broken branch. She thought she could mend it.

Laney stepped back into the house for her sewing kit, calling out to Sam as she went.

“Sam, everything okay?”

Silence.

Whirling around, she hurried to his room. His construction project lay scattered across the floor, but he wasn’t there. His black cowboy hat was gone from the top of the dresser where he left it when he wasn’t wearing it. That told her exactly where he was headed. He was so taken with the whole cowboy mystique that he wouldn’t have left without that hat if he had gone to visit Caleb and Bertie, and she was sure that was exactly what he had done.

He had probably only left a few minutes ago, but she knew from long experience that he could move like the wind when he wanted to. If she took the Jeep and hurried, she might make it to Caleb’s house before Sam did. Having his mother greet him when he arrived would be an unpleasant surprise that might make him think twice about going over there without permission again.

“And maybe pigs will fly,” Laney muttered as she ran to get her keys. “So much for keeping our distance from Caleb Ransom.” She had tried to impress on her son that their neighbor wanted to be left alone, but clearly she hadn’t succeeded.

Laney knew that in this rural area, neighbors often had to depend on each other, but Caleb didn’t want that. She thought he was probably embarrassed that she had seen him in pain last night, had seen him weak and vulnerable. Having Sam pop up there again, with her chasing him, might make things even more strained.

That wasn’t her biggest worry, though. She was most concerned that Sam had gone back to the pasture where Caleb kept his horses. She ran out to the fence, climbed up to balance herself on the rail and scanned the area for the mare and her foal. She spotted them quite close by with no little black cowboy hat bouncing toward them, so she knew Sam probably wasn’t in the pasture.

“Thank heaven,” she murmured, jumping down and running for the Jeep.

Starting the engine, she wheeled out of the drive and headed for the Ransom ranch.

Only a few yards down the single-lane road she had to squeeze past a car pulled over and stopped partway in a ditch. Driving past, she saw that someone was inside so she stopped, jumped out of her car and hurried back to ask if the driver had seen Sam.

When she recognized the driver, her steps slowed and her heart sank in dismay, but she forced a smile. Monette Berkley had been her neighbor in the tiny apartment building where she and Sam had lived in town. She was a busybody, a long-time social worker employed by Arizona’s newly revamped and name-changed Department of Child Safety, and she delighted in spying on her neighbors.

She was a definite oddball, but Laney didn’t think she meant any harm—although she couldn’t imagine what the woman was doing out here, and there was no time to find out. As she approached, she noticed that Monette’s appearance, always haphazard, was approaching sloppy. Her hair slid out of a loose topknot and the front of her blouse was stained with what looked like coffee.

Leaning over, she said, “Hello, Monette. Did you see my little boy on the road?”

“Your little boy? You mean Sean?”

“Sam,” Laney corrected. “Yes. He’s the only little boy I’ve got.”

“What’s he doing off by himself?” the woman demanded, her dark eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why aren’t you watching him?”

“Monette!” Laney cried in exasperation. “Did you see him?”

“No,” the woman answered, looking miffed. “I only stopped a second ago. Did he run away?”

Laney whirled around. “Of course not. He probably went to visit the neighbor.”

Or at least the neighbor’s dog, she thought, rushing back to her car.

Monette called out to her, but Laney ignored her as she put the Jeep in gear and sped down the road to Caleb’s driveway.

* * *

CALEB MOVED CAUTIOUSLY toward the front door where he’d heard scuffling noises and then a soft knock. Since his leg had seized up on him last night, he’d been moving much more carefully, trying to handle the pain and outlast the muscle seizures without resorting to more of the painkillers the doctor had given him. Aside from making him woozy and giving him nightmares, they’d probably caused him to stand by his window gawking at his neighbor’s house. Besides, the pills didn’t really cure anything, so why bother with them?

He finally reached the door and swung it open, his curious gaze at eye level. Seeing no one, his focus swung down to right above knee height where Sam Reynolds grinned up at him.

“Hi, Mr. Rasmon.”

“Ransom,” Caleb corrected automatically.

“Ransom. Can Bertie come out and play?” Sam’s huge smile and big brown eyes begged him to agree.

From behind him Bertie shuffled up, tail wagging and mouth open in his own big, doggy grin. He wiggled past Caleb to greet his new best friend, giving Sam a lick on the cheek that sent the eager boy into peals of laughter. Sam threw his arms around Bertie’s neck and sighed blissfully. “I love you, Bertie.”

These two were made for each other, Caleb thought sardonically, stepping onto the porch. He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “Sam, does your mom know you’re here?”

Into Bertie’s furry neck, Sam mumbled something that sounded like “Maybe.”

Caleb wanted to pull the boy away and get down at eye level with him, but his weakened right leg wouldn’t let him do that. And if he fell, he might land on the boy. Instead he reached down, cupped Sam’s chin and brought the boy’s face up until their eyes met, the way he’d seen Laney do the day before. He tried to make his voice sound as firm as hers had without resorting to his army sergeant’s voice.

“Sam,” he repeated, “does your mom know you’re here?”

“Sorta.”

“Sam...”

“Maybe, sorta.”

“That means no, doesn’t it?” Caleb said then jerked when another thought jolted him. “Did you come through the pasture? The same pasture where Addie and her filly are? That I told you to stay out of?”

Sam wrinkled up his nose and squinted as if he was thinking about it. “You mean where that pony is? No. I came on the road. I ’membered the way.”

Caleb threw his hands in the air. “That’s just as dangerous. What if a car had come along?”

“I woulda moved,” Sam responded as if he was talking to someone who wasn’t too bright. He went back to petting Bertie, who was eating up the attention.

Caleb stared at him. As an only child of parents who had both worked long hours, he knew what it was like to be lonely and to need distraction, but this had to stop. Why didn’t his mother keep him away? He was still trying to figure out what to say when he became aware of a vehicle on the road. A rooster tail of dust kicked up behind Laney’s fast-moving Jeep and gravel scattered as she turned into his drive. Caleb could see her sitting forward, peering anxiously over the steering wheel, and then visibly relaxing when she saw Sam standing on the front steps with Bertie and Caleb.

On the lane behind her, he saw another car slow at his gate, wait for a few seconds, then turn around and head back the way it had come. Caleb didn’t have time to ponder who that could have been because Laney was headed straight for them.

Sam turned to see his mom’s fast-approaching car. “She looks mad.”

“Ya think?” Caleb fought the urge to laugh at the crazy situation. He didn’t want them here, didn’t want to get caught up in the struggle between this lovable kid and his attractive mother. He knew the more he saw of them, the more he was going to get pulled in.

He was adamant about not getting pulled in, he reminded himself. He had everything carefully planned, exactly what his life would be like and who would be in it—or not.

Laney stopped the Jeep and jumped out. She strode over to the steps; her gaze never leaving Sam, whose face was buried in Bertie’s accommodating neck.

“Samuel John Reynolds, what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Visitin’ Bertie and Mr. Ramsun.”

“Ransom,” Laney and Caleb said in unison. Their gazes met and skittered away from each other.

“You weren’t invited. Go get in the car. We’ll talk about this at home when I’ve had time to calm down.”

Sam looked at her for a second. “Bertie wants me to stay.”

“I want you to go. Now move,” she said, tilting her head toward the Jeep.

That ended any argument. Sam trudged toward the car. She turned back to Caleb with a look of consternation. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll find some way to keep him off your property.”

Her gaze went to his leg as if she wanted to ask him how it was.

Questions, sympathy, pity were things he didn’t want. He straightened, belying his need to lean against anything for support.

He looked her straight in the eye. “Keep him off my property.”

With a nod, she went back to her Jeep and got her son and herself inside in record time. She started the vehicle, turned in a wide circle and was gone.

By his feet, Bertie whined. Caleb braced himself against the doorjamb once more and leaned to run his hand over the old dog’s head. “It’s better this way, Bert,” he said. “We don’t need them complicating our life.”

CHAPTER THREE

“SAM, THIS IS getting really old.” Laney picked up her son and stood him in the middle of the kitchen table so she could talk to him at eye level. As soon as they had arrived home, she had sent him to sit in the naughty chair while she picked up the items she’d left on the back patio and put them away. Then she had scrubbed the kitchen sink while she tried to think of what to tell him.

It had been physically exhausting, but emotionally easier when Sam was tiny. She had made all the decisions for the two of them. Now that Sam was getting older, Laney was constantly second-guessing herself. Two things she did know: she had to keep him safe whether he wanted that or not, and she had to keep him off Caleb Ransom’s property.

Now she was attempting to make that clear. Whenever he tried to avoid her gaze, she turned his face back to hers and placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, holding him in place. “You are not to leave this house without my permission. Do you understand that?”

He looked at her for a second and then nodded.

“You can’t go over to Mr. Ransom’s house unless I’m with you. He has...things to do and he doesn’t need you underfoot.”

“You sure?” Sam asked. “He hurt his leg so maybe he needs help with...”

“No, he doesn’t want or need us there.”

“But I like Mr. Ramsun and I love Bertie,” Sam answered in an aggrieved tone. He looked up at her, his big brown eyes swimming with tears. “He loves me, too.”

Laney dropped her head forward and closed her eyes as she took a breath. This was like trying to have a conversation with a grasshopper who kept bouncing from one place to another.

“You can’t go over there without permission. You can’t go see Bertie—”

“But—”

“You can’t or you’ll be in big trouble with me.” Her firm tone brooked no disobedience. “Sam, there are other reasons, too.”

She paused, watching emotions play across his face with heartsick dismay. She couldn’t let him spend his young years the way she had, never knowing where she would be or what would be happening that day or the next, who she would be with...

She frowned, trying to think of a way to make him understand without scaring him.

Taking a deep breath she said, “Sam, as your mother, I’m the one who is supposed to take care of you, so you have to do what I say.”

His bottom lip quivered. “But why?”

She paused, deciding he wasn’t being defiant, merely curious. “Because little boys have to have someone to take care of them, make sure they’re safe. That’s my job, so I have to know where you are all the time.”

He hung his head, his gaze on the tabletop, and she pondered whether to tell him that other people would have to take care of him if she couldn’t, but then decided against it. Her mind filled with memories of being in the backseats of strange cars, all of her worldly possessions packed into a big, black trash bag, her favorite stuffed animal clutched to her chest as she stared big-eyed at the back of the driver’s head, wondering who this person was and where she was being taken this time.

No, Laney decided. She would keep that information to herself. No point in scaring him unnecessarily.

“You have to do what I say,” she repeated. “Now it’s time for you to say, ‘Yes, Mommy.’”

“Yes, Mommy,” Sam responded, but she didn’t know if he would obey or not.

“Thank you.” She stared at him for a few seconds as she tried to decide if there was anything more she needed to say, something more convincing, compelling. Something he wouldn’t “forget.” Deciding that there probably wasn’t, she lifted him and set him on the floor. “Now, you go stay in your room until dinner is ready and you’d better be there when I call you.”

Sam shuffled off to his room. She gazed after him, hoping and praying she’d made him understand.

* * *

THE SOUND OF gravel popping beneath tires had Laney looking out the front window. She watched as her older brother, Ethan, stopped his truck and gave a wave when he saw her.

The truck doors sprang open and his twin sons, Shane and Logan, jumped out. The twins were happy, outgoing boys with dark hair that sprung out in wild curls unless it was kept cut very short, as it was now. Having recently begun to lose their baby teeth, they each greeted their aunt with gap-toothed grins. They were two years older than Sam, but the three of them got along well.

She called to Sam that his cousins were there and went outside to say hello. So much for making Sam stay in his room until dinnertime, she thought. But some fun, positive interaction with his uncle and his cousins might take his mind off Caleb and Bertie—at least for a while.

Ethan reached into the back of his truck and removed a small bicycle, which he set on the ground. He rolled it forward and propped it against a porch post so that it was the first thing Sam saw when he came barreling through the front door.

Ethan then went back to the truck and removed two more, slightly larger, bicycles.

Sam’s eyes widened as he looked at the bicycles and then at his two grinning cousins.

“Sam,” Ethan said, “it’s time for you to learn how to ride a bike. We thought you might like this one the boys have outgrown.”

“Yeah!” Sam shrieked. “Thanks, Uncle Ethan!” He raced down the steps as Laney gave her brother a worried look.

“Don’t you think he’s too young, Ethan?”

“No, I don’t. He’s got the coordination already. It’ll take a little practice. I’ll bet he figures it out in no time.”

“Oh, great,” she muttered as Logan and Shane showed Sam how to get on his new bike. “Now he’ll be able to move even faster.”

Ethan barely seemed to hear her as he joined the three boys. Giving Sam a few basic instructions, he then held the back of the bicycle while Sam took his first wobbly turn around the yard. Laney watched from the porch steps.

To Laney’s amazement and, admittedly, pride, Sam caught on quickly, just as Ethan had predicted. Within half an hour he could go a short distance by himself before the bike began to wobble and he had to stop and regroup. Shane and Logan rode their bikes around in circles, demonstrating their skill to their younger cousin. Sam watched them for a few moments, stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and tried harder.

When he felt that Sam was well on his way, Ethan joined Laney on the porch.

“Told ya,” he said smugly.

Laney punched him on the arm. “I hate to admit you’re right.”

Ethan grinned. “He’s always had good balance. That’s why he walked so early. He’s an active kid. He needs something to keep him busy.”

Chin lifted and lips pinched together, Laney said, “I keep him busy.”

Ethan bumped her with his shoulder. “Oh, don’t get defensive. I’m not criticizing your parenting, but in town, he had other kids to play with. Jenny and the boys and I were only three blocks from your apartment. Our kids played together every day. It’s different out here.” He glanced at her. “But moving here was the right thing for you to do.”

“Still, you’ve got a point. He needs something to do besides make a nuisance of himself with the neighbor.”

“Who, Caleb Ransom?”

With a nod she told him about the encounters they’d had with their reclusive neighbor.

“I’m trying to keep Sam away from his place, but my son is enthralled with the animals, especially the dog, so it’s not easy.” Her shoulders slumped. “And I don’t think Ransom likes people very much.”

“Have you considered getting Sam his own dog?”

“Ethan, he’s four. He’s too young to be responsible for an animal. He can’t even tie his own shoes yet.”

“It would be a companion for him.”

“So the two of them can run off together? So Sam can take his new dog over to make friends with Ransom’s dog, Bertie? That’s all I need.” She gave him a helpless look. “Ransom...Ransom doesn’t like people very much, so I can’t imagine he’d want my son popping in to visit with his new puppy.”

Ethan frowned. “There’s probably more to it than him disliking people, although I understand he pretty much keeps to himself.”

She turned to look at her brother fully. “Do you know him?”

“Not really. When he first came here, he was in the office to pay the property taxes and find out the exact location of the property lines on his place. I got the impression he wanted to know what his boundaries are to keep people out—although he didn’t actually say that.”