Return to Marker Ranch (16 page)

“That's a side benefit I never even imagined when I drilled that well.”

“You look tired,” she said, running her fingertips over his jaw. “I think we should finish this date another time.”

He was bone weary after all that adrenaline. “I think that would be best.”

“I'll drive us to my place. Then you can drive yourself home from there.” She reached out and gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Good thing we're neighbors.”

They made their way to his truck. She got behind the wheel and drove them home in silence from what might have been one of the most disastrous dates in the history of dating. He was trying to put his faith in what she'd told him. That she understood. That she didn't care he was having such a hard time.

The problem was that he had to find some faith in himself. And how could he do that when his own brain couldn't be trusted?

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“A
RE
YOU
OKAY
?” Mandy was in full-blown maternal mode, shoving multiple sandwiches into Lori's saddlebag.

Lori knew she should help, but exhaustion kept her in her chair at the kitchen table, face buried in her third cup of coffee. “Sure,” she lied. “Thanks for talking with me about my disastrous date last night.”

“Hey, what are sisters for if not to help with disasters?” Mandy came around, put a hand on Lori's shoulder and added another blueberry muffin to her plate. “I'm sorry—I feel like I pushed you guys into that date by inviting him to church.”

“No. It was a good idea. It made me realize how I feel about him. And at least now I know what he's going through.”

“You'll work it out. You two are connected to each other. I remember you sitting together at lunch in grade school.”

“That's because he never had a lunch,” Lori said.

“And because he was willing to let
you
know that. And
you
were willing to help him. Wade never let anyone else in.”

“Well, he tried to kick me right back out again last night.”

“Because he was embarrassed! And can you blame him? It must be hard for him. He's used to being the big tough strong guy and now he can't even see a movie.”

“I'm worried about him,” Lori said quietly. “I looked it up on the internet last night. PTSD in veterans is no joke. And there's no one cure. They just have to learn to manage it. I found all these blogs where veterans' girlfriends and wives post what they're going through with their partners. It's scary how bad it can get.”

“It seems to me that a lot of the horror stories are from situations where the person is in denial that they have PTSD,” Mandy said mildly. “But if Wade knows he has a problem and he wants to deal with it, then it's just a question of him getting the right treatment.” She gave Lori a quick wink. “I looked it up, too.”

Lori laughed. “Thank you.”

“Look, you can't fix it. But you can try to be there for him while
he's
trying to fix it. You can love him anyway.” Mandy smiled gently. “Even if the situation isn't perfect.”

Lori wanted to be there for him. She remembered Wade standing in the church hall, folding baby clothes for her because she couldn't do it. She of all people should understand his PTSD. Heck, she probably had some form of it herself. And he'd been right there for her, trying to help.

Like she should be helping him. But the stakes were higher now. Something had changed for her. Her heart, locked up for so long, had cracked open. And last night, when he tried to break up with her, it had hurt so much. She didn't know if she could handle it if he tried to push her away again. She set down her coffee cup down abruptly. “Why does this have to be so complicated?”

“The stuff that matters usually is, I think,” Mandy said, handing her the saddlebag.

“Well, cattle matter, and rounding them up is usually pretty simple. I'm looking forward to a day of just that. Nothing else. No Wade, no dates going badly, just good old-fashioned normal life.”

“I'm not sure there really is such a thing,” Mandy said. “But good luck with that. And try to have faith in Wade. In the two of you.”

“Thanks, Mandy. For the food, the talk, everything.”

“Of course. Be safe out there.” She turned away, but not before Lori saw the furrow between her sister's brows. Mandy hadn't ridden up into the mountains since the day their mom died. And every time Lori rode up there, Mandy worried.

“Hey,” Lori called as she pushed open the back door. “I'm going to be fine.”

“Yes. Of course you will.” Mandy gave a little wave and bustled back into the kitchen, where she'd probably bake her fears into heavenly sweets.

Maybe Mandy had some kind of PTSD, too. Lori paused on the porch, stilled by the thought.

She hadn't asked Mandy lately about how she was doing. They'd always been a practical family. Not sharing their deepest thoughts, just working together to get things done. Ever since Mom died, they'd been like that more than ever. Lori knew she'd been so busy just carrying on, trying to make everything as normal as possible on the surface, she hadn't given a lot of time to Mandy. They lived together, but it was only recently, with Wade coming back, that they'd started to talk about much beyond running the ranch.

Maybe trying to understand Wade was helping her see the cracks in her own world. Underneath her success with the ranch, underneath Mandy's animal rescues and baking business, was a whole lot of unspoken pain.

A beam of sunlight made it over the pines and warmed her face.
What time is it?
She'd woken up muffle headed, still stunned by Wade's revelation last night. And here she was, staring into space, lost in her own thoughts when she was supposed to be on the trail already. Jim and the others had probably been waiting almost an hour.

Something brushed against her boot, and Lori glanced down to see the little terrier mutt, one paw up, begging for a morning hello. “Hey, it's the coyote snack!” She knelt down and ran her hand down the dog's short back, used a couple fingers to scratch him between the eyes. He'd taken to following her everywhere he could, and when she woke up this morning she'd found him sleeping at the foot of her bed.

Mandy had cleaned him up, and now that he was getting two square meals a day he looked a little sturdier. He nuzzled her hand with his cold nose. “I think that's your name. Coyote Snack. Snack for short. Do you like it?”

Snack sat down and offered her a paw. “Good. Now, Snack, go lie down.” She pointed to his dog bed on the porch. He climbed in reluctantly, flopping down and heaving a doggy sigh of abject depression.

Straightening, Lori slung the saddlebag over her shoulder and left the porch to cross the dry grass that in the predrought era had been a green lawn.
Time to get to work.
All her worries for Wade, for Mandy, for everything would have to wait.

She jogged down to the main barn, pulling her jacket closed and zipping it up. Fall was here for real. This early morning chill would last well into the afternoon now. She and Mandy had pulled out their down comforters last night to drape over their blankets.

Usually she loved fall, when the aspen turned gold and the days cooled off. But now, during the drought, she loved it even more. Because in fall there was a glimmer of hope that something might change. The possibility of winter rain to ease the parched earth.

When she got down to the barn, Jim had Dakota saddled for her. Two other hands, Juan and Robert, were already mounted, ready to go. It was a three-hour ride to where the herd was grazing, and they needed all the daylight they could use. Jim glanced at his watch and then at her. She was never late. She was usually the first one at the barn.

“Rough night?” Jim's kind old eyes were full of concern.

“Something like that,” Lori said. She nodded a greeting to Juan and Robert. “I'm really sorry I kept you all waiting.”

They were nodding their acknowledgment when she saw their eyebrows rise and their eyes go wide, and then huge grins spread over their faces. Juan pointed at something and started laughing.

“What the...” Jim said, and then he was laughing, too.

Lori turned in time to see Snack bounding joyfully up the dirt track she'd taken to get to the barn. His tail was spinning in wild circles behind him, and his every-which-way hair was practically exploding off his body. His mouth was wide open in his huge black-lipped doggy grin, his long pink tongue lolling to one side. He arrived in a blur, threw himself against Lori, somersaulted off and landed on his feet. Then he looked up at her with his eerily smart eyes and went into a happy dance on his hind legs, batting at her with his front paws. True to form, he didn't bark—he wasn't a barky guy—but he let out one of his loud snorts.

Peals of laughter rang out behind her.

“What the heck
is
that?” Robert asked, barely getting the words out he was laughing so hard.

“Is that a friend of yours, Lori?” Jim asked, pulling out a bandana and wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“I don't think I've ever seen this kind of animal before,” Juan added. “Is it some kind of endangered species Mandy's trying to save?”

That sent Jim off again, laughing into his bandana, while Snack capered and danced, totally unaware of how ridiculous he looked. But he did stay away from the horses, Lori noticed. At least he had half a brain in that walnut-sized head of his.

She looked around, hoping to see Mandy coming to get him, but there was no sign of her. “It's a dog. Some kind of terrier that got dumped off near our driveway. Mandy rescued him.”

“Of course she did,” Jim said. “That gal wouldn't turn away a rattlesnake if it batted its eyes at her.”

“We have to get going,” Lori said, looking at the sun, which was way higher in the sky than she wanted it to be.

“We could put him in a stall for the day,” Robert said. “Give him an old blanket and some water.”

“I don't know.” Snack might be making her a little crazy, but she couldn't stand the idea of him locked up in an old stall. Plus, he was sitting now, looking up hopefully with those big brown eyes, tail wagging a mile a minute. He was ridiculous. He didn't belong out here.

But the men had laughed about him and the sky hadn't fallen in. It was kind of nice to have a guy, even a twelve-pound fur ball of a guy, wanting more than anything to spend some time with her after Wade's attempt to end things last night. “Let's try something,” she said.

She scooped up the dog, who instantly settled down and snuggled into her arms with a happy wiggle. She carried him over to Dakota and let the mare snuffle him. Both animals seemed calm, almost as if they'd already met. Shrugging, Lori tucked Snack under one arm and swung up on Dakota's back.

“What are you doing?” Jim asked.

“I'm going to see if he can come with us.” She set the terrier carefully on the saddle between her legs. “Sit,” she told him.

He sat right down on the padded leather seat, looking like a miniature scruffy lion king on his throne. She kept one hand on the reins and the other on the dog and asked Dakota for a walk. Snack rode effortlessly, his little black nose high, his big ears up and alert, and his mouth wide open in an enormous doggy smile.

“Look at that!” Robert exclaimed. “He's a natural.”

“Well, I'll be.” Jim shook his head in disbelief.

The men rode alongside her, staring.

“He's a circus dog,” Juan said. “Looks like he's been riding all his life. What's his name?”

“Gentlemen, meet Coyote Snack—Snack for short.”

They burst out laughing, and kept on laughing for at least a half mile up the trail. Lori's smile was almost as big as the dog's. Maybe Wade's problems and her worries about Mandy had put everything in perspective. Or maybe she was just desperate for a laugh. Any laugh.

Whatever the reason, for the first time since she'd taken the helm at the ranch, she didn't care that she looked ridiculous. She didn't care that she wasn't acting just like her dad. She had herself a new dog. He sure as hell wasn't perfect. But neither was she. And it was a relief to finally realize that maybe that was okay.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

J
ACKSON
'
S
NECK
MUSCLES
quivered under Wade's hand. It had taken hours of standing in the corral to get to this point, but his new horse was finally letting Wade touch him. Sure, he looked ready to bolt at any moment, but it was progress. Jackson took a tentative bite of the alfalfa hay Wade offered in his hand. His ears twitched as Wade talked. He had been telling him about Lori all morning. About their date gone wrong. About how beautiful she'd looked. About how he'd messed it all up. How for some crazy reason she still wanted to hang out with him.

Maybe Jackson just felt sorry for him, but he reached over and nuzzled Wade's shoulder for a brief moment. It felt like a blessing. It felt like medicine.

It
was
medicine. Having to be calm for Jackson forced Wade to slow his breathing, move with deliberation and empty his mind of everything but what the horse needed. It was calming Jackson down, but it was soothing Wade, too. When they were together he felt like all the jagged edges inside his brain smoothed over. His hypervigilant nervous system went from red alert to yellow. It was the only time since he'd come home that he'd felt this way. Training the horse was bringing him closer to peace than he'd thought possible.

He had to thank Todd, though it needled him just a little that his future brother-in-law had been right about how much the horse would help him. Todd was thoughtful that way. He had some kind of special insight into the way people and animals and nature interacted.

Jackson snorted, probably sensing that Wade's mind was wandering. “Hey, boy,” he murmured, running a slow hand over the horse's withers and resting it on his back. “It's okay. I'm here. And I appreciate the chat.” He pulled a piece of carrot out of his back pocket and offered it to the horse, who whuffled it up.

Over by Jackson's pasture, JM whinnied, missing his friend. Jackson threw his head up, listening. “Okay, you can go back now. You did good today.” Wade unbuckled Jackson's halter and opened the gate that separated the round corral they'd been using from the pasture. Jackson trotted out, tail up, and headed for JM. There was a little squealing and prancing on both sides of the fence, but then both horses settled down to grazing side by side.

Wade closed up the gates, glancing at the sky. The day was almost over. Somehow he'd gotten through it, just trying to breathe.

Frustration at himself, at his faulty brain, rose every time he remembered how he'd cowered on the sidewalk last night because he couldn't see a simple movie. How pitiful he must have looked to Lori's eyes.

He started toward the house, so lost in thought it wasn't until he got almost to the porch that he saw his sister's Jeep parked next to his truck. She was sitting on the porch steps, a large pizza box next to her.

“Awesome,” he breathed, reaching for it.

“There's a price for it,” she said shortly, batting his hand away from the box. “Tell me what's going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Todd's friend Jack and his wife Samantha were at the movies last night. They saw you run out. Jack called Todd today. He was worried.”

“This town!” Wade crossed his arms over his chest as if that would help keep the prying eyes of Benson away. “What the hell is wrong with this place? Don't people have anything else to talk about?” He could feel the words, all the words people said about him, crawling across his skin, stealing his privacy.

“Not all gossip is bad. There are good people here. People who care and don't judge. Jack is one of them. He just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I'm okay.” Maybe he was being stupid, but it rankled. He admired Jack. The man was taking him step by step through working with his new horse. He didn't want his pity. Didn't want to seem so weak.

“Let's go inside. We'll eat way too much pizza and you can tell me what's up. Come on. Don't make your big sister worry.”

He owed her so much. Those words were ones he couldn't refuse. He nodded. She hopped up and grabbed the pizza, leading the way into his house.
Their
house, really, though she'd moved over to Todd's when they got engaged. Wade missed her.

Working in comfortable silence, they got out plates and napkins, and Wade popped the tops off a couple of beers. Plunking herself down at the well-worn kitchen table, Nora fixed him with her big sister glare. She took a gulp of her beer and then commanded, “Shoot.”

“What, no small talk? What's new with you?”

“What's new with me is I'm leaving in the morning to consult on a ranch near Bakersfield. And I need to know you're okay before I can go.”

“I'm okay.”

“No, you're not. You had a hard time at a movie.”

“Well, who needs movies? They're overpriced. Predictable.”

“Wade Hoffman, stop!” she ordered.

He hated her fussing. But he heard the concern in her voice. “Okay. Here's what happened. I went to the movies with Lori. And all the noise made me feel really weird, so I walked out. Well...ran out.”

Nora nodded. “What about Lori? Is she okay?”

“She's amazing. I told her we shouldn't date, and she told me where to go.”

“She's a great girl.”

Wade sobered. “I don't deserve her, Nora. She should be with someone normal who can handle stress. Who can take her places.”

“But over time you'll be able to do more,” she assured him.

“I hope so.”

“Wade, it's not about hoping. It's about working at it. The medicines will never work by themselves. Dr. Miller told you that. Have you called any of those counselors I wrote down for you?”

“I just don't see how talking to someone who's never been through it is going to help.”

“Okay, who
do
you want to talk to? Because keeping it all locked up inside is obviously working real well for you.”

“I dunno,” Wade mumbled. He was used to her sarcasm, but the truth in it still stung. “Someone who has actually been in the military before, I guess.”

“What about Dan Sanders? He told me he asked you to come on by his store in the early mornings sometimes and have coffee with him. Have you gone?”

Wade remembered Dan's kind eyes. His generous offer. “No,” he admitted.

“Go see him tomorrow. Tell him what happened at the movies. He's probably been through something similar.”

“I don't know...” he started, but Nora cut him off.

“Wade, this is your pride getting in the way! You need help.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. She was right.

“Isn't there some kind of veterans' group that meets in town?”

Ethan's group. He'd never shown up. “They meet Mondays.”

“As in tonight?” Nora glanced at her watch. “Have you fed the animals? I'll do it for you if you'll go tonight.”

“I fed them already. Everything's set for the night. But I dunno, Nor. I've had a long day, and...”

Nora stood up so suddenly her chair fell over behind her with a thud that had Wade on his feet, combat ready, in an instant.

“See? Look at you. A chair falls and you jump a mile.”

He glared at his sister until he took in her pale skin, her hands clenched into fists. She was furious. And frightened.

“I won't lose you,” she said. “We've lost them all. Mom, Dad, Arch, Blake, and I will
not
lose you.”

“You won't lose me. I'm not going to kill myself or something like that. It's not that bad.”

“But if you don't deal with it, if you push Lori away and you isolate yourself out here, it
could
get that bad. Please go to this meeting tonight. If you need me to, I will drive you there and wait in the truck until it's over. Just go get help. Now.”

He couldn't argue. Not when she was scared like this. They'd only ever had each other, and they'd always had each other's backs. He sighed. “Okay, I'll go. As long as I can eat one piece of this pizza without you giving me a hard time about anything.”

He grabbed another slice of the meat combo with enough cheese to clog an artery. But what the hell. He was going to need the extra strength to walk into that meeting tonight and admit the truth. That he had a problem. And he had no idea how to fix it on his own.

* * *

T
HERE
WERE
LESS
than a dozen vehicles parked outside Grange Hall when Wade pulled up. He was glad to see it. He didn't think he could go in if there was a huge crowd.

Taking a few deep breaths as he approached the entrance, he pushed open the door. His limbs were leaden and anxiety was rippling through his chest, but he forced himself forward across the hallway toward the main room.

He froze at the doorway, scanning the scene. A few guys were helping themselves to coffee from an urn set across from the door. There was a plate of cookies that looked homemade. A circle of chairs were set in the center of the room, and a handful of men were already sitting down. He recognized one of them vaguely. Maybe they'd gone to high school together?

“Hey, man, you made it.” Ethan's beefy hand grasped his shoulder. “I thought I was going to have to pay you a visit out on that ranch of yours and drag you down here myself.” He propelled Wade into the room by the sheer force of his enthusiasm. “Hey, everyone, we have a newbie. This is Wade. He got back from Afghanistan just a couple of months ago.”

“Hey, Wade,” several people said, and every single one of them came over to shake his hand.

“Coffee?” Ethan asked. “It's decaf. None of us want to be up in the middle of the night with too much caffeine in our systems. Feeds the demons, you know?”

“Sure,” Wade answered.

A big black-haired man offered him a seat next to his. “I'm Luis. Welcome. Glad you could make it.”

Luis looked like he could bench-press Wade. Here he'd been worried that this support group would be some kind of sissy thing, but these men were all pretty formidable. Luis wasn't even the biggest guy here.

Ethan handed him a cup of coffee and a cookie. Wade accepted them and set them on the floor under his seat, too nervous to eat or drink anything.

Ethan took a seat on the other side of Wade. “It's eight o'clock, guys. Let's get started.” When everyone had joined the circle, Ethan bowed his head. “Let's start with a moment of silent prayer.”

It was a long moment. Wade prayed he'd get through the meeting without throwing up or making a fool of himself. When he finally looked up, it seemed that everyone was done praying. They were waiting on him.
Great.

Ethan read from a page in a binder that explained the rules of the meeting. Confidentiality was evidently a big rule, as it came up a few different times. Then Ethan closed the binder. “First order of business. Does anyone here need anything urgent? Urgent means housing, medicine, a referral to a doctor or shrink, or a job. And Wade, just so you know, a need to get laid doesn't count.”

Everyone guffawed. Ethan had effectively broken the ice. Luis said he'd been living with his parents since he left the Marines, and he felt like he was ready to get a place of his own. He asked whether anyone knew of a place. A guy named Parker said he'd forgotten to fill his prescription and missed a couple of days of his medicine, and he wasn't sure how much to start taking now. Wade just stared at them all in awe. They were so relaxed, so casual, mentioning their troubles and asking for what they needed like it was no big deal.

Once everyone had finished offering advice to Luis and Parker, Ethan got his binder out again. “We have a speaker tonight. Darren is going to share his story. How he first realized he was having some problems and how he's been dealing with it. You ready, Darren?”

Darren was the guy Wade had recognized. Now he remembered him. He'd been a year behind Wade, a star on the basketball team. Kind of a stud, really. He still carried that prom-king aura, but he was somber, one booted foot tapping restlessly as he straightened in his chair and started speaking.

“I first realized I had a problem when I threw a chair through a window.”

He wasn't the most articulate speaker, but it didn't matter. Wade was transfixed. Everything Darren shared sounded familiar. Losing his temper, feeling irritated all the time. Feeling lost and missing the companionship of his platoon. The night sweats, the dreams so real he couldn't wake up. The anxiety about noise, about losing control in front of others. Getting frustrated easily. Every word provided Wade with another inch of relief. The shared experience didn't fix his problem. He sure as hell wished it would. But at least he wasn't the only one going through it. Was it selfish to take comfort in that?

He heard something else in Darren's talk. Something that wasn't spoken in words but came through anyway. A yearning to get better. To feel normal. To feel like he belonged and could trust himself again.

Wade recognized it. The sense that there was something out there he was reaching for but was scared he wouldn't obtain. He was just reaching for
normal
, and putting a name to it made it feel a whole lot better.

When Darren was finished, Ethan gave them some information about the next meeting and their plans to march in the Veterans Day parade coming up in a few weeks. Then he led them in another moment of silence. And that was it. A quick glance at the old clock on the wall told Wade the meeting was over and he'd survived it. And it hadn't been too bad.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket. It was a text from Nora asking if he'd made it through.

Yes. Quit worrying
, he sent back. And then he relented, adding,
It kind of helped.

“Hey.” Ethan clapped him on the shoulder with a thump that reverberated through Wade's bones. “What did you think? You gonna come back next week?”