The Bride Wore Red Boots (15 page)

Her heart gave a happy extra thump, and she fought for calm.

“Hi,” he said. “Thank you so much.”

“Don't thank me yet. Kick-ass Dr. Crockett doesn't have the best track record with you, remember?” She smiled.

“For some reason, tonight I'm not the least bit worried about that. Come on in.”

The office was as big as a good-sized bedroom, with plenty of room for Gabriel's desk and three comfortable, modern chairs with red upholstered cushions and wooden arms. The walls contained several random posters—a giant Denver Broncos logo; a portrait of five servicemen, one from each branch of the military; and incongruously, a poster of a woman wearing a headset with the caption “Customer Service: Giving you precisely correct and totally useless information when you need it the most.”

Mia snorted her laughter and then scanned the shelves lining two walls. Most were filled with books, but others held random items that would probably reveal a lot about Gabriel if she had time to study them. She recognized a set of juggling pins, and wondered over a black box about a foot square covered in stars and moons, with what looked like a magician's magic wand lying across its top.

“So,” she said, eyeing the box. “This is the place where all the
magic
happens. Tell me about the wand there and about that sign on your door saying you're into ‘Behavioral Health.' ”

His color deepened slightly. “I used to do magic tricks at local restaurants when I was in college to earn extra money. A distant but fond memory. I also finished the last year of a bachelor's degree in clinical social work after I got back from Iraq. I'm a very poor man's counselor.”

A pang of surprise turned swiftly into admiration. “No wonder helping your experimental men is so important to you. That's impressive.”

“I don't know. I'm beginning to wonder if even an actual psychiatrist could handle this.”

“So—we come to the crux of the matter. What happened?” She sat in one of the chairs and leaned across his desk surface. “I get the impression it's nothing good. Did they pull the plug on your project?”

He smiled with a touch of wistfulness. “No, they didn't pull the plug—but Brewster is on probation along with Damien Finney. They have two weeks to find jobs or something that occupies work hours, or they're out. The top brass does not seem to find their frat boy pranks as charming as I do.”

“ ‘Charming' you say? Not sure I blame the brass.” She smiled, hoping he knew she was joking.

“Of course they aren't charming. But I've told you before that I find their antics hopeful, and I see them as letting off steam. But it's true, a person can't bring a cow into the Veteran's Administration. Nor can he blow up a can of whipping cream in and on the director's car. A flashing sign across from an office or a fake can of peanuts with a spring-loaded snake maybe. I'm out of ideas for incentivizing these guys. It's like telling them to behave when the people in charge don't have to do the same.”

“Might it
be
time to let them go?” she asked. “Maybe they can't be helped.”

He stood, his face a thundercloud. “
Everyone
can be helped. I absolutely will not let them go. Not when they're making such great strides everywhere else.”

“Okay,” she replied calmly. “That answers that.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to be. I can see your passion.”

“You're not the first one to suggest I'm a little too obsessed. But it's no different here than it is in the field. You don't leave anyone behind.”

“So why did you call
me
here?”

“What's the toughest thing I can do to them? Where can I send them? You must see a lot of crap working where you do—worse than this.”

“I'm not an ER doc.”

He sighed and nodded. “I know. In truth, I'm not sure why I'm asking you. Wit's end, I guess.”

“You probably thought of me because I can be mean and rude.” She offered a curled-lip smile.

“Those are not the words I'd use.”

“Really?” One brow arched upward. “What would you use?”

“Tenacious. Smart. Clever.” He sat back in his chair.

“Smart and clever are redundant.”

“No they aren't. Smart is figuring out what the problem is. Clever is knowing how to solve it.”

Once again she found herself staring at him in wonder. He had ways of phrasing things that made the most mundane words twist into compliments. Compliments that weren't false praise.

“I wish I was worthy of that,” she said, finally. “I don't know anything about veterans and their issues. I think it takes more than a casual doctor or a doctor who's really a specialized surgeon.”

He sat back in his chair and smiled. “I can't believe I ever thought you were self-centered.”

“Oh, I am. I admit to being pretty career focused. And knowing how to get done what I need to do.”

“Obviously. You wouldn't be where you are at your age if that wasn't true. But I'm beginning to think that's a façade.”

“And so the therapist comes out.” She folded her arms and fixed him with a knowing look.

“Nah. Just trying to say thanks in a very awkward way. I appreciate you bothering to come. I never think out loud—I'm not one for hashing things out over coffee. Make a decision and see it through, that's my motto. So, it's hard to admit I'm lost, but I am.”

“Then you're a very evolved male.”

“Nope. Just a desperate Neanderthal.”

She uncrossed her arms and leaned on one elbow, thinking. “Is it possible to find Brewster a job? Or Finney? What do they do?”

“They all have different interests. None of them is a professional as such. Finney was a truck driver. Brewster's family owns a small chain of grocery stores. I've had them in the apartments for four months, and four of the men have permanent jobs. Two have part-time gigs that don't pay much. Brewster and Finney have each started and quit two positions. Every one of these guys have been through severe traumas. They've seen death, and they've pulled their triggers and killed, quote, the enemy. They're having a hard time coming to grips with that. These are not your Chris Kyles. These are guys who just wanted to grow up and live normal, boring lives.”

“I'm so sorry.” The idea of young men living through such hell made her ill. “It sounds like they need to see some normal life. Be around some living things.”

“Living things,” he repeated. “Seems so simple. But everywhere they turn they only hit dead ends. Pun sort of intended.”

Her mind raced through a hundred different possibilities for jobs. Greenhouses, animal shelters, dog walking, landscaping. Anything but an office job—

“The ranch,” she said, almost as shocked as Gabriel looked. “There isn't much more in-your-face living than at a ranch. Cows, calves, horses, hard work, cold weather. I have no idea if there's anything they could do, but I'd be willing to ask Harper and Cole if they could use any help.”

Gabriel's eyes shone like he'd been given a stay of execution. “Would you really?”

“I'll be completely honest. My dad, when he died, didn't leave Paradise in the best financial shape. Harper and Cole have their work cut out for them. I'm not sure there's anything they can do. But it can't hurt to try. Even just some seasonal work—this is a busy time of year repairing things, setting up for winter. Heck, the horses move inside during the day. A little stall mucking is about as real as it gets.”

He laughed—a relieved sound she hoped wasn't thoroughly misplaced. “Maybe I'll wait before I tell them I found work picking up shit.”

“Wise,” she agreed. “They'd bolt the program on their own.”

A short silence enveloped them. Gabriel stared at his desk, deep in thought. Mia tried to guess what could possibly be going through his mind. Her guesses weren't remotely close to what finally came out.

“You don't have any mustangs hanging around in that barn you mentioned?”

“Mustangs?” She laughed. “Hardly. What made you ask that—other than the obvious?”

“That was pretty cool last night,” he said, allowing himself a moment of distraction to smile and elevate her pulse with the slight dimple in his left cheek. “But it was really something Joely said. About how those horses humble you really quickly. We both joked about how retired vets with too much time on their hands might benefit from being bossed around by a horse.”

“They don't nickname the national Mustang Makeover contests ‘challenges' for nothing.” Mia sent her mind back to the three times she, Harper, and Joely had entered Makeovers. Six horses all together. Four had been straightforward to train—not easy, but not mean. One, humorously named Angel Baby, had turned out to be the horse that had nearly killed them all. In the end she'd come around, but Mia shuddered, envisioning a couple of non-horsemen ending up with a project like Angel.

Still . . .

“You know,” she began, and hesitated again.

“What?”

“Your guys wouldn't be chosen to participate in a real makeover challenge. They don't have any experience or credentials. And, the makeovers take place all through the summer, so it's far too early to even apply. But. There's both a privately owned wild horse preserve and a Bureau of Land Management mustang holding facility within half a day's drive. You can adopt mustangs any time. What if Paradise did its own little mustang makeover?”

“I keep asking this. Are you serious?”

“I don't know. Am I?”

Her brain raced again, but this time with an actual idea—insane and unlikely to happen as it probably was.

“What's going through that clever brain now?” he asked.

Her heart pumped and her adrenaline made her jumpy in the seat, and it wasn't even all Gabriel this time. This was beyond a doubt the craziest notion she'd had since she'd been a teenager.

“I am certifiable,” she said, and gave him a goofy grin she hadn't used in years. “But if I get the right answers to my questions after I leave here, how do you think Brewster and Finney would feel about a trip to visit some wild horsies?”

“I
WISH
I thought this was a really stupid idea.” Harper looked at Mia over the kitchen table and ran her index finger over the handle of her coffee mug.

Mia nodded. “I know. I do, too. But I can't shake it. I'm not this frivolous.”

“No, you're not.” Harper didn't smile. “And that's one of the reasons I'm so taken with this. If your brain is working out the logistics, there must be something to it.”

“Oh, no. Don't go by that. My brain has checked out completely this trip.”

“Hah. Your brain never checks out. We'd all kill for your brain.”

“Please don't say that.” Mia tamped down the slightest bit of resentment.

It was half a miracle to be sitting here with Harper having a fairly normal conversation. They'd been polar opposites and mostly adversarial all their lives. Until their father had died and Harper had taken Mia's old boyfriend—a fact that made Mia happier than anyone would ever understand, since Harper and Cole were perfect for each other. Mia didn't want this moment spoiled by any reference to the things that had once torn the sisters apart—her “amazing” brain being one of the biggest. Mia had always hated being set apart.

“It's a compliment, dork.” Harper finally smiled.

“It's never been a compliment.”

“Mia!”

“Forget it.” Mia returned the smile. “My brain is a topic for another day. And anyway, I'm not so smart, asking you and Cole to think about a program like this when you're struggling to get this place back on its feet. You've only had a couple of months to take stock.”

“We did all right selling the cattle this year. Prices were up from the last five years, so the projections were a little more dire than reality has turned out to be. And we have a lot of plans and ideas. Not that it won't take several years to implement them. The thing is—this place belongs to all of us. I want us all to have ideas.”

“This isn't a money maker.”

“It doesn't seem like it on the surface.”

Mia sighed. “They're good men, just a little damaged.”

“It sucks,” Harper said. “Nobody should have to go through such trauma.”

The back door opened, and Cole entered, filling the space with his height and breadth. He looked good—windblown and healthy. Downright happy. He kicked off his shoes and padded stocking footed into the kitchen, winking at Mia but heading straight for Harper.

“Miss me?” he asked, and bent to kiss her.

“Oh, believe me, I was a wreck. I didn't know how I'd make it through those two hours.” She made a face and kissed him back. “Pathetic.”

“And proud of it.”

“Hey, Mia.”

“Hey, Cowman. You're starting to look the part.”

“Like riding a bike,” he said. “All the lessons my daddy taught me are coming back.”

He'd grown up on the neighboring ranch, now a part of Paradise, since Cole's father had sold to the Crocketts years before.

“Seriously,” Mia asked, “is it all going okay? You guys took on a lot.”

“It is,” he said. “We aren't going to live like kings for a good long while, if ever, but I think we can pull Paradise out of the doldrums eventually. It's going to take a combination of things, a little diversifying, and some creative thinking.”

“Like what?”

“We don't know for sure yet. Kelly thinks we should raise organic beef. Skylar wants alpacas—says the fiber, hair, wool, whatever the heck they grow, is worth a fortune.”

“Skylar.” Mia laughed. She was the spitfire, fourteen-year-old daughter of the ranch's foreman Bjorn Thorson. “How is she?”

“Fine. Still whining about homeschooling. Still riding that horse of hers off for days at a time and worrying her parents to death. But she's really a good kid.”

Skylar's horse. Mia remembered the flashy paint named Bungu with a flash of hopefulness. Skylar had trained him herself with guidance from her grandfather Leif, the ranch's longest-lived employee, and it was an amazing animal. Maybe she could be another resource? “Speaking of horses,” she said.

“Yeah,” Cole replied. “I've been giving that plan you talked about last night some thought.”

“You have? I was just telling Harper I'm a little embarrassed I brought up such an ambitious idea when you guys are barely getting going.”

“Well, now, here's the thing.” Cole pulled a Coke out of the refrigerator and joined the women at the table. “I just went and took a good, long look at the horse barn, the pastures, and the fencing. There's still that five-acre fenced area with the six-foot fences from back in the day when you guys did the makeovers. It's in rough shape, but we probably have repair materials already here if the men were willing to fix it.”

“I haven't been out to that pasture in ages,” Mia said. “I figured it would have to be built from scratch.”

“You can take a look at it. I think it could work. The other thing I talked to Leif about was the idea of having these men do some work for us. We've been talking about how soon we could reasonably hire more hands. Come spring, when it's time to take the cattle back out for the summer, we'll need a couple of men for sure. Right now it sure would be nice to have at least one extra body to take care of some fencing, to do some building maintenance, and a few other things, but we'd decided we have to slog through ourselves. We just can't afford to hire anyone right now—not in the winter. But—if someone wanted to work in exchange for keeping the horses, we could talk about a very small—really, really small—additional wage. For a couple of people.”

Mia didn't know if having the men work without pay was even feasible. She had no idea what kind of financial shape they were in. Obviously they'd lasted four months on something—but, all she could do was ask.

“This is so generous, Cole. I have to ask a whole lot of questions on your behalf, of course. But it's a start. The two mitigating factors are that I'm not going to be around to see this project through. At least not permanently. The second is, the men themselves might think this is an idea akin to consorting with folks who try to contact aliens with tin foil hats and short-wave radios. If they don't want to do it—we're all off the hook.”

“Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing either way. I kind of got the impression Harper here is itching to see some mustangs around here again.” He kissed her again, this time on the top of the head. “But I had another idea. What if I ride along with you and Gabe for the first half hour or so on Saturday?”

“You know about that?” Mia hadn't told anyone that Gabriel had invited himself on a date. No. A tour.

“Nothing is a secret in a small town.”

“This is not a small town.”

“It's a big ranch. You grew up here. You know it's its own small town.”

“Big mouth Bjorn.” She smiled. “I asked him who the gentlest horse was. Someone for a relatively new rider. He extrapolated.”

“And I baited you, and you confirmed.” Cole grinned. “It's great that Gabe is coming. He's a good man. Glad you're finally seeing that.”

“Everybody stop picking on me!” She groused to hide the bubbling excitement in the pit of her stomach. “He's dedicated. I admit it fully.”

“And he's really, really cute,” Harper said, garnering a scowl from Cole.

“Is he?” Mia raised her brows. “I know he can be as annoying as I am.”

“You are a lot alike.” Harper grinned.

Mia furrowed her brow. “Hey. I think you were supposed to disagree with me there. Thanks a lot.”

Harper laughed. “Sis, we're all annoying. Heaven only knows why this one is still around.” She flipped a thumb at Cole.

“You're all also addicting, that's why,” Cole said. “Now. I have to ride out and check two of the trapper cabins Saturday. What's the verdict on horning in on your date?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, it's not a date! Come along. Harper, too.”

“I wish I could.” She sighed. “I have a group coming to paint at the Double Diamond. Gotta go get them settled and do an orientation.”

Harper had recently started a new enterprise that was already bearing fruit—a retreat for artists and writers based at Cole's old homestead, where they could hide away or paint in solitude. And she'd set up a schedule of community classes for the coming year to be taught by visiting artists and talented locals. She'd had her first paying guests a month ago and was booked through New Year's. What had seemed a long-shot, esoteric idea had proven to be irresistibly popular.

“That's wonderful,” Mia said, meaning it. “You've done a fantastic job already.”

“Amazingly, it sells itself,” she said. “To more kinds of people than I ever thought would care. Some folks will pay stupid amounts for a nature experience. Anyhow, beside the point. Go, have fun on Saturday. See what Gabe thinks of this mustang thing. I meant it that I think it's a great idea, too.”

The praise warmed Mia. It truly felt like she'd been waiting for this kind of closeness with her sisters for a lifetime. For one instant an unfamiliar sense of intimacy gripped her.

“Thank you. And, fine. I am looking forward to Saturday.”

She braced for teasing, or a knowing wink between Cole and Harper, but her sister only nodded.

“I know.”

“Y
OU
'
RE NOT DOING
too badly for a newb, Newb.” Mia waited at the top of a long rocky path and called down the hill where Gabriel allowed his gelding, Mitch, to pick his way up the trail. The pair reached her, Gabriel puffing a little, as if he'd physically helped the horse up the steep grade.

“Thanks, but I'm permanently bowlegged already,” he said.

“It's been a few weeks since I've ridden, too,” she said. “I'll be sore as well.”

“Glad to be in good company at least.”

“This is the picnic spot.” Mia turned her mare, Penny, in a circle and glanced around the hilltop clearing. “Sounds like you're ready to dismount and stretch anyhow. Good timing.”

“You really do have some beautiful country. I had no idea there was so much diversity.”

“Biodiversity. Raquel loves to wax philosophical on the virtues of all the biomes and ecosystems the ranch contains. She says it's aptly named because we have everything here you could want in Paradise except desert. And I can only show you such a small sliver. It takes weeks to ride the entire property.”

“Have you ever done it?”

“Once. Rode the perimeter with my dad and a crew when I was thirteen or fourteen.” We all had to do it with him at least once. I think maybe Joely's done it a few times. It's pretty eye-opening. This is quite a kingdom my great-grandfather Eli started.”

She dismounted and led her mount, Chevy, to a sturdy tree. Gabriel copied her example and landed ungracefully but upright on the ground after his dismount. He exaggerated a rolling, bowlegged walk and led Mitch to stand beside Chevy. Mia showed him how to tie the horses with quick-release slip knots.

“All there is to it,” she said, when he'd mastered the knot. “They'll munch a few leaves and be fine. Let's unpack the saddlebags.”

“I'm with you, Doc.”

Lunch looked as good as a celebration feast for royalty, simple though it was. Mia didn't remember being so hungry in years. They'd been riding three hours, but the clean, bracing air and the crispness, like a perfect fall apple, in the breeze, had filled her with an eagerness for exploration and a deep satisfaction with what she was rediscovering. Cole had shown off the first of a half dozen small cabins on the property, used in the past for hunting overnights or cattle round-ups, to an impressed Gabriel, then headed off on his own to check another for vandalism and needed repairs.

Sharing the ranch's diverse landscape had added a dash of excitement and pride to the outing she hadn't expected. It had been a long time since Paradise had brought her this much contentment. The morning had left her stomach growling. For the picnic she'd dug out some chicken cranberry pasta salad Raquel had made, found a new loaf of an artisan bread crusted with rosemary, and a round of smoked Gouda cheese. In one of her saddle bags was a thermos of homemade chicken soup. Best of all, she'd spent time the night before with her mother, baking the thick, gooey brownies she remembered from her childhood.

She untied a roll of woolen blankets from behind the cantle of her saddle and spread one over the flattest area of ground she could find. Gabe pulled the food containers from his bags and met her at the blanket table.

“You definitely know how to stuff a saddle bag.”

“Years of misspent youth wandering the landscape with leftovers from dinner the night before.”

“I'd have been happy with PB and J.”

“Nothing so pedestrian.” She laughed. “It was soup and hot cocoa for us. Lemonade in the summer.”

“Cocoa would have been good.” Gabriel rubbed his hands together.

Mia pulled a second thermos out of her bag. “A step ahead of you.”

“I am in heaven. No.” He corrected himself. “Paradise.”

She laughed and beckoned him to the blanket, handing him a small, stacked set of camping utensils as he sat. It didn't take long to open the various containers, pour steaming cocoa and soup into their metal bowls, and breathe in the first aromatic scents of the nontraditional lunch.

“Wow,” Gabriel said. “Who'd have thought you could get to a gourmet restaurant on the back of a horse, ten miles from civilization. This is fantastic, Amelia. Thanks.”

“It's nothing fancy really, but you're welcome. I haven't had a chance to show off my childhood home for a long time. It's been fun.”

“It has. I admit I have a hard time imagining fifty thousand acres.” Gabe dunked a piece of bread into the chicken broth. “Don't take this the wrong way, but is so much land necessary for one family to own these days?”