In The Rancher's Arms

“You don’t look as if you had a good trip to town. Did your sale fall through?” In addition to helping run the ranch, his brother was a talented saddlemaker. He was just beginning to build his business, but he’d recently made a nice sale to a guy from Dallas and had gone into town to meet his customer for delivery of the finished product.

“No, he paid me. Liked the saddle.”

“But?”

Ben glanced toward the house, as if to check that no one was within earshot. “Guy is a real estate agent with some big firm in Dallas. Turns out he represents a client looking to acquire ranch land in the area as an investment.”

“Lot of that going around.” In fact, the exorbitant prices being commanded for former family ranches was what was driving property taxes sky-high.

“Yeah, but it’s the ranch that he wants that’s the problem. The guy did some satellite imagery searches and decided he wants the Rocking Heart.”

The ranch that had been in their dad’s family for generations? That wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m guessing you told him it wasn’t for sale.”

“Yep. He said his client is persistent though and made an offer anyway.”

Neil held up his hand. “I don’t even want to know the amount because it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t think we should tell Mom and Dad? It would be their decision, after all.”

The very idea of selling this ranch, and to someone who was sure not to appreciate its history, caused a ball of disgust to form in Neil’s gut. “You know what their answer would be, so no.”

Ben nodded in agreement. “The pressure may mount, though. Heard the Websters are throwing in the towel and selling out.”

Neil’s heart sank at that news. He’d hoped the fellow ranching family they all knew well would be able to soldier on after their herd was hit hard by a pasture fire the summer before. On the heels of a higher tax bill and Mrs. Webster being in a car wreck last winter while Christmas shopping, it must have been too much.

The accumulation of bad luck drew his thoughts to the dead cow. “We’ll make it. Mom and Dad got us through worse times before.”

But as his parents were getting older, he was taking more of the responsibility of keeping things afloat on himself. It was a balancing act between being aware of the ranch’s finances and worrying himself into a premature ulcer about them. His mom told him that he worried too much, and maybe he did, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Keeping this ranch and family together was the most important thing in the world to him. And he’d do whatever was necessary to ensure he was successful.

* * *

ARDEN REALIZED SHE’D been on the verge of dozing off on the front porch when the phone inside the house rang. She blinked several times, trying to clear her foggy head, as she heard her mom answer the call.

“Nothing like a nap on the porch with a purring cat in your lap,” her dad said from where he sat in the other chair, reading the Blue Falls Gazette.

“I guess not.” She supposed basic biology had more to do with it. If she wasn’t getting enough sleep at night, her body was going to demand it some other time.

The headline at the top of the front page caught her attention. Water Plant to Get Upgrades. It seemed so normal, so benign, so unlike the types of stories she’d been covering the past several years as an international correspondent. And yet, she supposed it was important to the people of Blue Falls. And no one was likely to be kidnapped while working on a story like that.

“Still having trouble sleeping?” her dad asked.

“I’m fine.” She shifted her attention to where Lemondrop lay curled up on her lap. “This guy’s purrs would put anyone to sleep.”

Arden didn’t make eye contact with her dad. She suspected he knew the truth she refused to speak. She only hoped that if she continued to act as if it wasn’t a problem, he wouldn’t worry too much.

She stared toward the road when someone honked. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her dad wave at Gideon Tharpe, one of her high school classmates. He’d grown up on a ranch in the most remote part of the county.

“He and his brother started opening their place up to birding tours. Every now and then I see buses head out that way.”

“Windy road to take a bus down.”

“Yeah. Evidently they’re on some migratory route for songbirds.”

The door opened, and Arden’s mom stepped out onto the porch.

“Who was on the phone, dear?”

Her mom placed her hand affectionately at the back of Arden’s dad’s head. “The mayor.”

Arden detected a slight hesitance in her mom’s voice and her movements as she slipped into another of the comfortable outdoor chairs.

“What did she want?” her dad asked.

Her mom lifted her gaze to Arden’s. “The town wants to honor Arden at the rodeo on Saturday night.”

“Honor me?” She hadn’t done anything but survive through pure luck. That hardly seemed worth special recognition, not like running into a burning building to save people or flying sick children to hospitals.

“They want to have a ceremony before the rodeo starts to welcome you home, sweetie. Everyone was so worried and sent up a lot of prayers for your safe return. They are all so glad you’re home safely.”

“I don’t know that that’s a good idea,” her dad said, echoing Arden’s thoughts.

How was she supposed to wade into a crowd, stand in front of them, when she’d already shown she was as jumpy as a cornered rabbit? But then the large numbers on those medical bills swam through her mind. Despite having insurance, her parents still owed more than they could possibly pay in a timely fashion. Arden didn’t have any choice but to get a job and help whittle down that debt. Maybe going to the rodeo was the first step. She had to get acclimated to being around people and noise and the rituals of everyday life again if she hoped to find employment. And maybe she could ask around while at the rodeo, see if there were any job openings in town.

Not that she had any experience other than journalism or a couple of summers serving up pizzas at Gia’s. Just the thought of all that interaction with people, the curious stares and whispered musings about what exactly she’d gone through was enough to make her want to throw up. But sometimes you had to power through whether you wanted to or not.

“It’s fine,” she said, evidently surprising her dad judging by the look he sent her way. “I’ll go.”

Her mom smiled with such relief that it made Arden want to cry.

“That’s wonderful. It’ll be good for you to go out, see some of your friends.”

Not everyone had left Blue Falls to travel around the world like she had, so Arden wondered how much she’d have in common with them now. Would she even be able to get through the evening without experiencing a horrible reaction like she had at the convenience store? And she doubted she’d be lucky enough to have someone handy to shield her this time.

Her thoughts shifted to Neil Hartley, how he’d seemed to know exactly what she’d needed in that moment. If she got the opportunity, she’d have to thank him for that.

“Are you sure?” her dad asked.

Before she could allow herself to chicken out, she nodded. Her anxiety hadn’t magically disappeared once she was surrounded by the comfort of home, so maybe it was going to take more work to rid herself of it. Maybe she had to do precisely the thing she didn’t want to—place herself out in the open, vulnerable, unable to watch every direction for potential threats.

Stop it! She screamed the words at herself in her head. She was no more likely to be attacked at the rodeo than the water treatment plant’s updates were of making national headlines.

But no matter how much she told herself that over the next few days, it didn’t alleviate the hard knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in her middle. She hoped it was simply anticipatory anxiety, that it would go away once she arrived at the rodeo and saw some friendly faces. She tried to discount what had happened at the convenience store that first day. She’d been exhausted, jet-lagged, still getting used to not being a captive. Now that she’d had a few days of relative normalcy, surely she could manage to smile and make small talk for a couple of hours if it was in the pursuit of getting her life back on track. A new track, that was. Her days of globe-trotting to troubled hot spots were over. Someone else would have to fill that role.

Saturday afternoon, she sifted through the assortment of clothes her roommate had pulled together from Arden’s room in their shared apartment just outside DC. Jeans and the worn University of Texas T-shirt seemed a safe bet to blend in with the crowd. She didn’t have any boots, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Her feet were too sore from maneuvering the confines of her cage barefoot to wear anything that would rub against her skin that much. So the trusty, comfortable sandals it was.

“You ready, sweetie?” her mom asked when she paused at Arden’s open door.

Arden took one more look at herself in the mirror—tanned skin, hair in such need of a good cut that she’d pulled it into a ponytail and thinner facial features than were normal. It was all fixable, with time. The inside was more damaged, but hopefully tonight was the first step toward healing that, as well.

She pasted on a smile for her mom. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As her mom drove toward town, Arden noticed her quick glances in the rearview mirror to where Arden sat in the backseat. To try to keep her mom from her obvious worry, Arden pulled out her phone and pretended to read on it.

Her mind wasn’t on the phone’s image of her hiking through the Rwenzori Mountains. Uganda had some truly beautiful places, some wonderful people, but just thinking of it now made shivers run across her skin, her insides twist into tighter and tighter knots. How many times had she relived the moment she’d gone from reporter to captive?

She scanned through the photos on the phone and replaced the Rwenzori picture with one of her parents wearing Santa hats last Christmas. It always made her smile when she looked at it. Granted the phone it had originally been on was who knew where, but she’d learned several lost phones ago to keep her photos backed up in the cloud.

The sound of another vehicle passing drew her attention, and she looked up to see they were coming into Blue Falls. As her mom made the turn toward the fairgrounds, the anxiety that had made a home for itself inside Arden kicked up several notches.

It’ll be okay. It’s safe here. You’ll be back home before you know it. This is a necessary step.

By the time her mom parked in the field adjacent to the grandstands, Arden had almost convinced herself that her mental pep talk was true. Even if it wasn’t, she was here now and she couldn’t back out.

The walk from the car to the arena was filled with a blur of faces and well wishes and what was meant to be reassuring hugs and caring touches. It took all of Arden’s strength not to jerk away at each one, so that by the time they reached where the mayor was standing she was already wiped out. Somehow she found the strength to accompany the mayor to the flatbed truck inside the arena where a country western band was packing up their gear after evidently entertaining the crowd.

As Arden climbed the steps to the top of the trailer, she glanced toward the grandstands and found her parents making their way to seats among the crowd. Maybe if she focused on them during this whole show, she’d make it through. But even as she had that thought, she considered that doing so might actually be the worst thing. She couldn’t risk them seeing how much her current position was shredding her determination to see it through. How the panic was clawing its way up out of her like a zombie from the grave.

Her legs shook as the mayor made her way to the microphone and began to speak. It took an incredible amount of focus on Arden’s part to fix her mind on the woman’s words, to make them sound like something other than an indistinct voice at the bottom of a deep pit.

“We’re all so happy to have Arden Wilkes back home in Blue Falls, safe and sound.”

A round of applause from the people staring at Arden caused her to flinch. There were even a few American flags waving out in the midst of the crowd. She scrunched her forehead in confusion, but before she could think about it too much she realized the mayor was looking at her. That she’d said something to which Arden needed to give a response. As if she was rewinding the past few seconds in her mind, Arden realized what the mayor had said.

Arden approached the microphone on increasingly shaky legs. “Thank you, Madam Mayor. I appreciate all the prayers for my safe return and the support that’s been given to my parents during the past weeks.”

She certainly hoped that’s all that was expected of her because she didn’t think she was going to be able to stay here being stared at like a museum exhibit for much longer. As if the mayor could see her distress, she shook Arden’s hand, gave her a gift bag containing welcome-home gifts from local merchants and nodded toward the stairs descending from the trailer.

Arden made for the stairs as quickly as her waning energy would take her. But even after she left the arena, she wasn’t free. What seemed like a gauntlet of well-wishers closed around her. She did her best to smile and thank them all. After all, she’d been witness to such scenes before. Child soldiers returned to their families. Mudslide survivors finding family members alive. One man who’d been erroneously held in a Chinese prison finally released. She had covered their stories, even talked to the people in question, but she’d never truly understood the sheer feeling of being overwhelmed when they were returned to normality.

She saw her mom stand, and Arden knew she couldn’t possibly face her mother right now. Her mom would take one look and know that Arden hadn’t been telling the truth when she’d claimed she was fine. She would coddle Arden to the point of driving Arden to insanity. She loved her mother dearly, but all Arden wanted was for everyone to go back to behaving normally around her so she could do the same. So she could somehow find a way to forget what had happened to her, what she’d been unable to prevent from happening to others.

“Excuse me,” she said as she found an opening in the crowd. As if her need to get away had been blasted over the speaker system, people ceased trying to stop her. There was no destination in mind, just some space to breathe—ironic since recently open space had a habit of robbing her of her ability to breathe.

Somehow she ended up in the dimly lit area next to the concession stand. She counted it a small miracle that no one seemed to notice her there. Evidently the people in line were too focused on placing orders for hot dogs, nachos or food on a stick to pay her any attention. But she knew it wouldn’t last.

As she thought that, someone stepped around the corner of the building and extended something toward her. It took her a held-breath moment to realize it was Neil Hartley and what he had on offer was a cold bottle of beer.

“You looked as if you could use one of these,” he said.

She latched on to the bottle and brought it to her lips, downing half the contents before stopping. When she finally lowered it to breathe, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t stare at her, which allowed her to relax some. He was tall and broad enough that he blocked her from sight of a good portion of the crowd in front of the concession stand. “Guess your homecoming has been a bit overwhelming.”

“You could say that.”

Most people would have asked questions or done the teary hug followed by an “I’m so sorry” or “Praise the Lord you’re home safe” thing, necessitating a response from her, but Neil did neither. He just stood there gazing out across the field behind the grandstands, leisurely enjoying his beer. It felt as if he was appointing himself a quiet and casual barrier between her and the world, and she felt more of her well of panic subside. There was no way he could, but it almost seemed as if he understood how she felt and what she needed.

In the same moment she saw another woman walking toward them with a sympathetic look on her face, Neil nodded in the direction of the stock pens at the end of the arena. He gently touched her elbow and said, “Let’s get away from this crowd. Can’t hear myself think and it smells like a fryer vat back here.”

She didn’t question him, just went along and acted as if she hadn’t seen the other woman so it didn’t seem as if she was being rude. Some people might have the best of intentions but still not understand that she was on emotional overload at the moment and needed to not have to be “on” and ready with a plethora of thank-yous.

The crowd seemed to part for Neil as he guided them away from the grandstand toward where the pens contained the bulls that would be ridden in the last event of the evening.

“They look so much bigger up close,” she said. “I can’t believe people climb on them voluntarily.”

Neil chuckled a little, a nice sound that tempted her to smile. “Everybody’s got something about themselves that others think is crazy.”

Was he thinking about how she’d tracked down human traffickers and ended up getting herself kidnapped, necessitating a rescue by the US military? Sure, she hadn’t been the only American being held, but it had still been equal parts relief and embarrassment when the camo-clad troops had burst into the kidnappers’ camp. At the memory of the resulting firefight in which she’d feared for her life, she grew dizzy and wrapped her hands around one of the rungs on the metal fence in front of her.

Neil had to have seen her reaction and yet he didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned his forearms against the top of the fence beside her, then pointed toward the bulls in the enclosure.

“See that black bull on the opposite side?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“He’s the meanest one here. If whoever draws him stays on for eight seconds, I predict that guy will win the event.”

She glanced at Neil, was struck by how handsome his profile was. The last time she’d seen him before her return home, he’d probably been about twenty. It must have been the night she and Sloane graduated. She had a vague memory of the entire Hartley clan being part of the crowd that crammed into the high school gym for the commencement.

“Did you ride?” she asked, deciding to go with the avenue of conversation he’d offered.

“Bulls? Heck no, I like my neck unbroken.”

She laughed a little at that, and the sound of her own laughter stunned her. When was the last time she’d been able to really laugh? She honestly couldn’t remember.

“Any rodeo events?”

He shook his head. “Never got into it. Too busy working on the ranch.”

Inside the arena, the next barrel racer sped toward the first of the three barrels and guided her horse in a tight turn around it.

“You ever try it?” Neil asked.

Arden shook her head. “Didn’t grow up on a ranch. I did ride an elephant once, though.”

What had made her reveal that? They’d been doing fine talking about something that had nothing to do with her job—former job—and she had to go and steer the conversation that way.

Neil smiled, and her breath caught. She’d known he was good-looking. Even she wasn’t so caught up in her own concerns to be able to overlook that obvious fact. But it was remarkable how much a simple smile could magnify what she’d already seen.

“An elephant, huh?” The way he said it indicated he’d believe it when he saw it.

“Yes, in India.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled to a photo of her atop a large Indian elephant, then extended the phone to him. “She was very sweet.”

He took the phone and looked at the screen. “Well, what do you know? You did ride an elephant.”

She accepted the phone when he gave it back. “I was there covering efforts to prevent poaching.”

“Sloane says you’ve been some interesting places.”

The conversation was veering deeper into an area she didn’t want to visit, but there was something so calm and inviting about Neil that she found herself telling him about some of her travels—primitive villages in the Amazon, the outer reaches of Siberia, corners of China most Americans had never heard of, which had made her realize just how massive was the population of that country.

“What’s your favorite place you’ve ever been?”

“I don’t really have one. Every place was fascinating in some way.” She glanced at the arena when a cheer went up from the crowd.

“That’s a really good time,” Neil said of the barrel racer’s 14.0.

They watched in companionable silence as the last two barrel racers took their turns. Arden didn’t know whether it was because of where they were standing or the fact that Neil stood between her and the crowd of spectators, but no one approached her. It was the first time since she’d left the house that she could breathe easily.

When a truck rolled into the arena to load up the barrels, she turned slightly toward Neil. “What about you? Got a favorite place you’ve been?”

He glanced toward her, and she was struck by how much she liked his eyes. It wasn’t that they were some bright color, rather a soft brown, but there was something in them, a kindness, a goodness that attracted her.

“The ranch,” he said simply.

“Your family’s ranch?”

He nodded. “I haven’t traveled a lot. Don’t have the time, really. Guess I don’t have the bug either.”

Arden couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t wanted to travel the world. Blue Falls was a nice place to grow up, but it had seemed so small and limiting. Even now, after her far-flung travels had gotten her nearly sold into slavery or maybe killed, there was a little part of her that wanted to jet off to some new locale. But that wasn’t possible anymore.

The faces of her kidnappers formed in her mind. She hated them with every fiber of her being. Hated that they’d made her fearful. Hated that they’d caused her to nearly lose her father. And hated them for robbing her of the very thing that had made her who she was. As she stood here at a hometown rodeo next to Neil, she realized she had no idea who she was anymore and was scared she might never find out.

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