Книга - White Christmas in Dry Creek

White Christmas in Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad


Renee Gray doesn’t believe in fairytales—not even at Christmastime. But when a wounded stranger collapses on their porch, her daughter, Tessie, believes they’ve discovered a handsome Prince Charming.Though he has his own reasons for shutting out the world, Rusty Calhoun can’t resist little Tessie’s invitation to play a king in the church Christmas pageant. They’ve both built up walls as tall as castles, but as their trust—and love—grows, Renee and Rusty wonder whether real life can include a little storybook magic.







A Holiday Hero

Renee Gray doesn’t believe in fairy tales—not even at Christmastime. But when a wounded stranger collapses on their porch, her daughter, Tessie, believes they’ve discovered a handsome Prince Charming. Though he has his own reasons for shutting out the world, Rusty Calhoun can’t resist little Tessie’s invitation to play a king in the church Christmas pageant. Renee and Rusty have both built up walls as tall as castles, but as their trust and love grow, they wonder whether real life can include a little storybook magic.

Return to Dry Creek: A small Montana town with a heart as big as heaven


“Did Santa bring me a prince for Christmas?” Tessie whispered as she peered down at the stranger.

Renee blinked. “No, sweetheart. He’s not a present.”

Her daughter had longed to meet a prince since the night of her first bedtime fairy tale. Renee had tried to tell her that those kinds of princes did not exist. And, if they did, they didn’t go calling on bunkhouse cooks and their little girls. But Tessie never quite believed her.

“But what if he is a prince?” Tessie stepped closer to the phone and asked the operator. Then she turned her back, no doubt hoping Renee couldn’t hear, and whispered, “Mommy doesn’t know what a prince even looks like.”

“That’s not true—” Renee began and then stopped. She wasn’t going to get into a ridiculous argument like this. Renee intended to keep her daughter safe from strange men even if Tessie was angry about it. Her daughter could afford to fall in love with fairy-tale princes, but Renee could not.


JANET TRONSTAD

grew up on her family’s farm in central Montana and now lives in Pasadena, California, where she is always at work on her next book. She has written more than thirty books, many of them set in the fictitious town of Dry Creek, Montana, where the men spend the winters gathered around the potbellied stove in the hardware store and the women make jelly in the fall.


White Christmas in Dry Creek

Janet Tronstad




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

—Hebrews 13:2


I am grateful for the many who prayed for my sister, Margaret, when she was ill with cancer. She is now dancing in heaven with Jesus, but your prayers made her feel so loved here on earth. Thank you.


Contents

Chapter One (#uc85d471c-961f-5109-b4bc-c08e4066b3ea)

Chapter Two (#ua6c579e2-c140-5fa7-a242-db40081ed1c7)

Chapter Three (#ue7d3e09f-2f52-5bab-8f43-2777f95e4c33)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

A blizzard swept across the empty fields outside of Dry Creek, Montana, freezing the night air and throwing snowflakes against the two-story house that stood in the middle of the sprawling Elkton cattle ranch. Inside the home, Renee Gray knelt on the hardwood floor, one hand gripping a phone and the other frantically searching for a pulse in the neck of the unconscious stranger lying in front of her. She was still in shock at finding him slumped over the porch railing a few seconds ago, a saddled horse close to him and what looked like a wolf barely visible some yards behind him in the falling snow.

The wolf hadn’t looked menacing, but the man did.

After the scary times she and her five-year-old daughter, Tessie, had endured with her ex-husband, Renee had been careful not to let any man who looked like this one—virile, strong and maybe dangerous—into their lives. And yet, here he was right on the floor in front of her and in desperate need of help.

With relief, she found his heartbeat. It was weak but steady. She’d already called 911 and the operator was off-line connecting with the ambulance company, so Renee relaxed enough to glance over at Tessie. It was past the girl’s bedtime, but she didn’t show any sign of fatigue as she leaned over the strange man protectively, her frail frame trembling with excitement.

“Is he a prince?” Tessie whispered in awe as she peered down at him. She wore cardboard angel wings on her shoulders and one of them tipped precariously. That didn’t stop Tessie from reaching out to the black hair that curled against the man’s forehead. Equally dark stubble covered his face. His skin was so white from cold that it almost matched the color of her wings. “Did Santa bring him for Christmas?”

Renee blinked. “No, sweetheart. He’s not a present.”

The two of them had been in the living room putting the last of the tinsel on their Christmas tree when the girl insisted she heard a thump outside. They both went to the door and Renee managed to use a rug to drag the man inside while keeping a watch on the darkness to be sure the wolf was gone.

“Don’t touch him,” Renee added as she covered the phone with her hand.

Tessie pulled back and nodded, but she kept looking at the man—particularly at the brown mole high on his left cheek.

Her daughter had longed to meet a prince since the night of her first bedtime fairy tale. Renee had tried to tell her that those kinds of princes did not exist, and if they did, they didn’t go calling on bunkhouse cooks and their little girls. But Tessie never quite believed her. Renee had a sinking feeling that she knew what Tessie had whispered in Santa’s ear at the school program last week.

Renee couldn’t help but stare at the man. Snow was melting in his hair. Except for the dark circles under his eyes and a faded scar on one cheek, she had to admit he did bear a striking resemblance to the drawings of the aristocratic hero in her daughter’s beloved Sleeping Beauty story—especially because the prince in the book also had a mole high on his left cheek.

The temperature gauge on the porch read below zero, so Renee hadn’t really had a choice about bringing the man inside, especially with that wolf following him. But she fervently hoped he would be taken away soon. She had enough trouble with Tessie’s imagination without this kind of a coincidence.

Right then, the snap of chewing gum sounded in Renee’s ear, indicating that Betty Longe, the 911 operator, had finished contacting the emergency crew and was back on the line.

“Is he still breathing?” the woman asked.

Renee nodded.

Then she realized the operator could not see the action. “Yes, his pulse and breathing are much better. I think it helps that he’s out of the cold. The bleeding seems to have stopped, too, now that he’s not moving around.”

“We can ease up a bit, then. The sheriff should be there in a few minutes.”

“The man needs an ambulance more than the sheriff!” Renee could hear the tension in her voice. Even though the man was doing better, she didn’t have much beyond iodine and bandages to use if his wound decided to bleed some more.

Betty grunted. “Anytime a strange man stumbles onto your porch in the middle of the night with a bullet in his shoulder, I’m going to send out the sheriff along with an ambulance. Sheriff Wall is just closer than the others right now.”

“Actually, we’re not at my place.” Renee realized that in the rush of things she hadn’t mentioned that pertinent fact to the operator. She’d barely had enough wits about her to make the call. “I’m housesitting. The Elktons are spending Christmas in Washington, D.C., with their son and they asked me to stay in the main house while they’re gone.”

Everyone knew the bunkhouse cook at the ranch had her own quarters, and the EMTs would lose precious time if they went there first.

“Worried about possible rustlers, are they?” Betty asked, her words slow and chatty, as if she had all the time in the world.

“Yes.” Renee recognized that the operator was trying to help her calm down. She took a deep breath. “Have there been more cattle reported missing?”

Betty was silent for a moment, likely passing along the additional information about where to go and then coming back to speak.

“Not that I know of. It’s still seventy-three reported gone.”

Renee listened for the sheriff’s siren but didn’t hear anything but the slight scraping sound of Tessie’s slippers as she fidgeted.

“Well, be careful,” Betty finally said. “Women tend to think an unconscious man is harmless, but you never know.”

“I don’t think he’s harmless,” Renee protested. She looked down at the man. He was still breathing okay. She didn’t easily trust the men she knew, let alone someone she’d never met. “I wonder what he was doing out there all alone in the middle of the night. Riding a horse and being trailed by a wolf. I can’t believe he was up to any good.”

“We don’t have wolves around here,” Betty said sharply and then paused. “Well, not many.”

“It only takes one to do damage.”

Renee looked up and suddenly noticed the room had grown silent. Her daughter was standing stiffly next to the man. It was as if Tessie had never danced in delight at finding the stranger. Instead, her little face was scrunched up in resignation. And the angel wings that their friend Karyn McNab had lent her to wear in the church nativity pageant seemed to weigh down her shoulders.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Renee asked as she covered the phone again.

“You think he’s a bad man,” Tessie muttered. “You don’t believe Santa sent him.”

“Oh, dear,” Renee said to her daughter. “I know you want him to be a prince, but we talked about this. Princes don’t exist. Not the fairy-tale kind, anyway. We need to accept that. And Santa is just for fun.”

Tessie got a stubborn look on her face. Her lower lip protruded and her lips pressed together in a straight line. Renee would have said more, but she saw tears start to form in Tessie’s eyes.

“I know who he is,” the girl finally whispered. “If Santa didn’t send him, then Daddy did. The prince has a Christmas message for me. He just needs to wake up so he can tell me what it is.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Renee said, not caring that her hand had slipped off the phone.

Before she could say anything more, Betty spoke. “Well, if you ask me, no one needs a prince like that to deliver a message. Not when we have the good old U.S. Postal Service with their white trucks and pretty stamps.”

“Did you hear that, Tessie?” Renee held the phone out so her daughter could listen. She was surprised at the support she was getting from Betty, but she was grateful anyway. Maybe her daughter would pay more attention to another adult. “Betty doesn’t think you need a prince, either. If your daddy wanted to write you a letter, he’d just send it in the regular mail.”

Renee supposed adding some reality to her daughter’s fantasies was an improvement even if the odds of Tessie’s father sending her a letter were no greater than her meeting a storybook prince out here in the middle of the Montana plains.

“You listen to your mother, Tessie,” Betty said, the words coming through loud enough to be heard by both Renee and her daughter. “A letter is easy enough to send.”

Tessie stepped closer to the phone and asked the operator, “But what if he is a prince?” Then she turned her back, no doubt hoping Renee couldn’t hear, and whispered, “Mommy doesn’t know what a prince even looks like.”

“That’s not true—” Renee began and then stopped. She wasn’t going to get into a ridiculous argument like this. Renee intended to keep her daughter safe from strange men even if Tessie was angry about it. Her daughter could afford to fall in love with fairy-tale princes, but Renee could not.

They were all silent for a moment.

“Maybe your mommy just hasn’t met the right prince yet,” Betty finally said softly, obviously changing sides before the battle had even begun.

Renee put the phone back to her own ear and whispered into it, “You’re not helping.”

“Well, you must admit you don’t even look at single men anymore,” Betty replied. “You’re twenty-four years old—too young to give up on men because of one bad experience. It wouldn’t hurt you to think there was a prince somewhere who was meant for you.”

Without thinking, Renee let her eyes stray to the man’s left hand and noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Of course, her ex-husband had seldom worn one, either, so that didn’t prove much.

“I agree you don’t want another man like that husband you used to have.” Betty’s voice had gentled again and her gum chewing had stopped. “Why, he almost took you to prison with him. And the armed robberies he committed weren’t the worst of it. Everyone knows he was abusive to you and Tessie.”

“I—” Renee wished she hadn’t brought up her marriage. She cupped the phone to her ear so her daughter wouldn’t hear. Tessie had turned around and was looking at her.

“But you can’t judge all men by him.” The operator continued as though Renee hadn’t even tried to speak. “There are dozens of men around here who would be happy to be a little girl’s prince. And yours, too, if you’d let them. Maybe the new man who is delivering the mail in Dry Creek these days would do. He’s single and has a steady job.”

“Barry Grover?” Renee asked, momentarily stunned. She’d met him. He was balding and had a paunch. She looked up to see if there was a red patrol light reflecting in the window. Barry was missing a tooth, too, if she remembered right. Sheriff Wall should be here by now. Please, Lord, bring the lawman soon, she prayed. If she stayed on the phone with Betty much longer, all the people in Dry Creek would be out looking for a husband for her, and she was afraid of what kind of man they’d find.

It was bad enough that young Karyn, a high school student who worked weekends for her as a relief cook, had started dropping hints that marriage was good at any age. Of course, that was likely for her own benefit, since Karyn was infatuated with that boy she was seeing. Neither one of them was of an age to be thinking about a wedding, in Renee’s opinion.

“Barry might be a little older than you,” Betty acknowledged. “But twenty years’ difference isn’t so much in a marriage. And he has that nice new Jeep. It has heated seats, I hear. And four-wheel drive. He’s taking some treatment for his hair loss, too, so he’ll look younger before you know it. And he’ll have a good retirement if he stays with the postal service. You’ll be well set in your golden years. And Tessie might get that puppy she wants.”

“That’s okay. No one needs to match me with anyone. And I’m working on the puppy.”

Renee looked back at the man on the floor. His skin color was returning to normal. He might look better than Barry Grover, but he would be more difficult. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was sure of that. He just seemed like the kind of man who could turn someone’s life upside down without even trying.

“We have to do it for Tessie,” Betty said then, her voice thick with emotion. “Why, even before she said what she did when she was on Santa’s knee, she’s always been going on about—ah—” the operator hesitated and lowered her voice “—family things.”

Mercifully, she stopped at that.

“I am thinking of Tessie,” Renee whispered. The knot of misery in her stomach tightened. She supposed the whole town of Dry Creek knew about her daughter’s stories by now.

Against all odds, Tessie still loved her father and told anyone who would listen how wonderful he was. Instead of his being an inmate in the state prison in Deer Lodge, she had convinced herself that her father had been sent on a secret mission to rule some faraway kingdom, living in a majestic castle with guards at the gate and princes at the ready. It was straight out of one of her fairy-tale books. Tessie would describe the man’s crown and robes and the presents he was going to send to her. She even mentioned the wolfhounds that guarded the bridge over the moat by name.

Renee renewed her commitment to finding a suitable puppy for Tessie.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry,” Betty finally said, sounding as discouraged as Renee felt. “It’s just with her father the way he is—”

“I know you mean well.” In a small town, no one carried his or her burdens alone. Sometimes that was good, sometimes bad. But Renee knew the concerns were as much for Tessie as they were for her, and she couldn’t fault the town for caring.

She had been taking her daughter to a therapist in Billings and the woman said that Tessie would outgrow these fantasies when she finally felt completely safe. The girl’s love for her father warred against her fear of him. She yearned to see him and, at the same time, was scared he might come back with some wolfhounds to hurt her. Her fairy-tale pretense of a father as a faraway king helped her feel secure until she could finally admit it wasn’t the animals but her father who made her afraid.

Renee felt a chill just thinking what the sight of that wolf might do to her daughter if it came closer. Hopefully, it had already gone now that there wasn’t a wounded man out there waiting to become the wolf’s prey. There were no young calves or chickens around this time of year, either, but she’d still call over to the bunkhouse when she had a minute and alert the ranch hands.

“Tessie, sweetheart, maybe you should go sit in the bedroom and wait for me,” Renee said with a nod to the girl.

“Good thinking,” the operator said, her voice back to normal. “That little one doesn’t need to be mixed up in something like this.”

Tessie stood, her white-and-pink nightgown damp from the snow that had fallen on her when she’d held the door open earlier. Her blond hair curved around her face, and her eyes were serious as she continued to look down at her prince. “I think he’s smiling at me.”

Renee turned her attention back to the man and eyed him suspiciously. “That’s not a smile, sweetie. He’s just moving his lips—maybe from the pain. He probably doesn’t even know how to smile.”

Tessie’s eyes filled with sympathy, but she didn’t back away from him.

Renee noted her daughter’s eyes seemed to always return to that mole on the man’s cheek. She suddenly wondered if the man could stay around long enough to show Tessie that he was no prince. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes for the man to open his mouth and prove he was mortal. Maybe that would be the first step in Tessie facing her fears and fantasies. If so, God might have sent the man for that very purpose.

“The man’s moving!” the operator echoed in alarm. “I’ll tell Sheriff Wall to hurry. Not that he isn’t already driving as fast as he can in the snow. He’ll be there soon.”

“We’ll be fine,” Renee said, as much to reassure herself as the operator. The man’s breathing had improved, but he wouldn’t have the strength to do any real damage. Not with her here.

“Did you check to see if your prince has a gun?” Betty asked.

“No!” Renee gasped at her oversight and then turned to see her daughter still staring at the stranger in speculation. His lips were moving again.

Renee hated guns. And if the man was involved in rustling, he likely had one. She put down the phone and braced herself to touch him again.

In the meantime, Tessie leaned closer.

“You can watch television in the bedroom,” Renee said, promising a rare treat. “Turn the Disney Channel on. They have that princess show you like so much.”

Tessie looked down at the man, clearly reluctant to leave.

“Please, sweetheart,” Renee said. “Mommy needs you to go.”

Tessie nodded and headed down the hallway.

“Close the door.” Renee waited until Tessie did so, shutting herself in the bedroom.

Renee turned her attention back to the man. He wasn’t moving his lips anymore, so she gingerly opened his wool-lined jacket. His gray flannel shirt had a large damp spot where his wound had bled and the whole garment was plastered to his chest. She didn’t see any bulges that would indicate a shoulder holster, though. Of course, she knew from her ex-husband that there were many places to hide a gun if a man didn’t want it to be seen. She ran her hands down the sides of his torso. The man flinched and moaned. At one point, she wondered if she didn’t feel something taped to his chest. She wasn’t taking any chances, so she unbuttoned his shirt and opened it.

“Oh, my,” she gasped softly as she reached out to touch a bandage that stretched across the man’s bare midriff. Nothing was hidden there, but he had faded red burn scars and dark bruises all over. They were not recent, but there were so many. She let a finger trail across his skin, wondering what trouble he’d seen—or caused—in his life to end up with all of these.

She felt a tremor race through her, making her hand shake slightly. His skin, while bruised, was baby soft. She pulled her hand away quickly and then pulled his shirt back together. She knew what bruises like that might mean and it frightened her. It wasn’t right looking at him when he was not aware enough to stop her, though. His scars were his own business. And maybe the sheriff’s.

She picked the phone up again.

“I think he’s been beaten,” she said to Betty. “Maybe he really is a criminal. Or maybe he tried to go straight and this is what the others did to him.”

“Don’t go feeling sorry for him, now,” Betty advised, her voice low and serious. “Finish searching him before he comes to. And keep the phone close to you.”

Renee reached for his pockets. A man like this could have a knife, too.

All she found was a scrap of paper in the front pocket of his jeans that had a smudged telephone number written on it in pencil. The melting snow had made the marks practically illegible.

His breathing became more labored as she knelt there.

“Easy, now,” she said in a soothing voice as she turned the paper over. The front was a receipt for a hamburger and a cup of coffee. She couldn’t make out the name of the business where he’d bought the food. She set the paper aside to give to the sheriff when he came. Maybe the phone number would be a contact for the man’s next of kin.

His eyes had been closed when she found the paper, but his eyelids were twitching now. And a muscle along his jaw was clenching. Then he groaned.

Renee spoke into the phone again. “He’s regaining consciousness.”

“Did you find a gun?” Betty asked.

“No.”

Renee heard a siren in the distance and realized the sheriff was close. She wondered if the man heard the sound. If he did, he didn’t react. Her ex-husband had always flinched when he heard a cop’s siren, even if he wasn’t doing anything illegal at the time.

Then the man’s eyes fluttered open.

“You look like an angel.” His words slurred and a small, lopsided grin started to form.

“I know karate,” Renee announced.

“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” the man said, his grin spreading.

She realized then that he must have seen Tessie’s angel wings. He likely hadn’t realized Tessie was a different person, but he had glimpsed the wings even in the condition he was in. They’d repaired one of them earlier tonight, replacing the gold glitter border.

Renee felt her knees grow weak. She’d do anything to protect her daughter. A blast of cold air hit her neck and she turned to see that the sheriff had stepped into the room. She hadn’t locked the door after she brought the stranger inside. Now she was relieved someone was here to take him away. She and Tessie didn’t need this man around. Even if he was not a rustler, he wasn’t safe. The quiver in her stomach told her that much. She was still breathless from touching the bruises on his chest. This man was trouble.

* * *

Rusty Calhoun just lay there and looked at the angel kneeling beside him. She looked stressed, but in a vague, delicate way. He’d had concussions before in the eight years he’d spent in the army and he’d seen his share of hallucinations, but nothing like this. The woman’s skin was so translucent it looked like a white South Seas pearl—the expensive kind. Her hair floated around her like a halo. Sometimes, when she moved her head, a speck of gold would fall from her like a star coming down to earth. He took that as a sign from the heavens that she wasn’t real.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he finally said, deciding he could say that because she was a figment of his imagination. And a man should be able to say anything he wanted to a vision he’d created in his own mind.

The woman made a dismissive sound, but he didn’t care. Not when her skin shone the way it did. It made sense that any hallucination he had would look like a pearl. His mother had loved pearls. And his nightmares in Afghanistan had been littered with them.

When he’d rambled on about a pearl necklace in his delirium on that awful night when his platoon had been bombed in the Wardak Province, the doctors searched through his belongings until they found the strand he carried with him. When they gave it to him, he’d cursed and thrown it across the room. That was when they’d called in the chaplain.

“Are you awake?” the woman asked now.

Rusty barely had time to wonder if he should answer his hallucination before a lawman took her place. Or was it two lawmen? Rusty wasn’t sure. But he figured whether they were one or two, they were real enough.

“He’s awake,” the lawman said with authority and the two images of him slowly merged into one. “Tell me your name.”

“U.S. Army ranger Rusty Calhoun, sir.”

“What happened?”

The clipped voice of command sounded familiar. Voices like this had demanded his report when he had been returned to safety that dark night in Afghanistan.

“I was the only one left.” The medics had pulled him out of the rubble. He hadn’t wanted to leave. Not with the others lying around him.

“Who else was with you?” the voice asked.

“My platoon. The eleventh mountain division, sir. It was a trap.”

There was silence after that. Rusty closed his eyes and saw the flashes of the bombs. He’d failed them all.

“Tonight?” The man’s voice had softened, but it was persistent. “Here in Montana?”

Rusty felt the pounding in his head and opened his eyes. He remembered the snow now.

“Where am I?” he asked.

He smelled Christmas. The scent of pine trees and popcorn.

The doctors hadn’t wanted to release him yet, but his younger brother, Eric, had called to say he needed him. Rusty had let down so many people already that he was determined to save his brother from whatever trouble he was in. The doctors said they wouldn’t release Rusty until next week, but he had pressed them and left early. He hadn’t called Eric and told him that he was here, though.

“You’re in Montana, son. You were out riding a horse—”

“Annie. Is she all right? And my dog?”

“There was no dog,” the woman said. “Maybe the wolf chased it off.”

“Not a wolf. It’s my dog.”

“Goodness,” the woman gasped.

“I—” Rusty paused. His felt sweat on his forehead, but it was cold. He’d picked up Annie and the dog from the Morgan ranch this afternoon. After his family lost the ranch, he’d paid the Morgans to board his horse and dog along with his brother until he could get back here.

“Take a minute. Think about tonight,” the man’s voice urged.

Rusty took a ragged breath and offered up a prayer for strength. Thanks to that chaplain, he and God had forged a truce of sorts in Afghanistan. Rusty wasn’t sure the connection was going to hold in Montana, but he wasn’t ready to give it up, either.

“There was a pickup.” Rusty forced his mind to leave the old battles and remember the past few hours. The wind had been frigid, but he’d welcomed the bite of the snow as it hit his face.

He’d been riding on the south section of his family’s ranch. His father had died while he was overseas, and riding on the land was the only way Rusty knew to say goodbye to the man. He’d been out for hours and was ready to turn back when a large black pickup seemed to emerge from the night as it came across the fields.

The pickup went off-road and into a ravine. When Rusty rode to the top of the ravine and looked down, he saw another pickup was already parked at the bottom, sitting there with its lights off. Someone stepped out of the smaller pickup, leaving the door open. The small overhead light let Rusty see enough. He knew it was Eric standing there because the boy was wearing his brown baseball cap backward. It was unlikely anyone else around here would wear a cap like that, especially when the wind was so strong.

“They shot me,” Rusty added, remembering that much from his scramble up the side of the ravine. “It hurts pretty bad.”

He’d signaled his dog to stay silent so it wouldn’t be shot and the animal had obeyed. Rusty marveled that even though he had been gone so long, his dog still saw him as master. They’d been through some tough times together, he and that dog.

“Who shot you?” the sheriff asked as he took a small notebook out of his pocket.

Rusty hesitated. “I don’t know.” Fearing that might not be enough, he added, “It was too dark to see any faces.”

He waited for the accusation to come. He had never lied—not even by withholding information. Until now. He knew he’d seen Eric tonight even though he hadn’t seen his face. And he wasn’t willing to give up his brother that easily. Not until he heard the other side of things.

The sheriff didn’t press and Rusty breathed deep. Maybe the doctors were right that he merely needed some rest.

He turned to search for the woman’s face. If the lawman’s voice was real, she must be, too.

Just then he heard the soft sounds of slippers on the hardwood floor and he saw the woman turn to look behind her. She had a lovely neck, he thought with a smile.

“No,” the woman whispered in horror as she looked at something.

Rusty tried to raise himself up to defend her from whatever was coming, but he had no strength. Then he saw the woman was merely worried about the girl who ran from behind her and stood in front of him with her little hands on her hips. Her angel wings were crooked, but her face was beaming.

“Have you seen my daddy?” she demanded to know.

Rusty felt as if the room was spinning. “What’s he look like?”

He’d known too many fathers who had died in Afghanistan. “Was he an army man? In my platoon?”

“No, he’s a king,” the girl replied proudly as she stepped a little closer.

“British?”

“No, he’s a king in Montana,” she insisted with a guilty look at her mother. Then she leaned forward and whispered, “With a crown. My mommy doesn’t believe, but—”

Rusty smiled, finally realizing she was pretending. He had no idea that kind of innocence was still alive anywhere in the world.

He was going to answer her when he was struck with a sudden worry. The girl must have a mortal father, too.

“Does your father wear an orange parka?”

That would describe the tall man who had been in the ravine waiting for Eric. The man must have been using night-vision goggles, too. He wouldn’t have been able to see Rusty without them.

“My father always wears a purple robe,” the girl said firmly. “Purple is for kings. Never orange.”

He relaxed. “I haven’t seen him, then.”

Rusty wondered if his brother knew the man in the orange parka had taken a rifle out after the taillights on Eric’s pickup disappeared from view. In the dark, Rusty wouldn’t have known the man was aiming the gun at him except that he’d seen a small white beam of light a second before the shot was taken.

“Tessie, sweetheart,” the woman said as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the girl, “the sheriff needs to ask the man some questions. And you need to go back to the bedroom.”

The woman released her daughter and gave her a nudge in the direction of the hallway. All three adults watched as the girl dutifully walked down the hall and went through a door.

“Sorry about that,” the woman said.

The lawman nodded and then moved closer so Rusty could see him and the notebook in his hand.

“Where were you when you got shot?”

Rusty thought a minute and then decided there was no harm in telling the lawman. “The ravine that is a quarter of a mile from the gravel road that intersects with the road that goes up to the Morgan ranch.”

Rusty had been fortunate he’d been able to scramble to the top of the ravine and get on his horse before the man in the orange parka could walk over to where he had been shot.

“So you were on your father’s old place? The one the bank foreclosed on?”

Rusty nodded and the slight action made him wince. “I was just looking around. No harm in that.”

“An ambulance is on its way,” the sheriff said as he stood up and put the notebook back into his pocket.

The sheriff had a gray Stetson on his head and it shaded his eyes, but there was no doubt where he was focused next. “I recognize you now. You were a scrawny little kid last time I saw you. That ranch of your father’s was bigger than the Elkton ranch here. Got put up for sale by the bank in the past month or so. Some corporation bought it. It wasn’t handled right—I’ll give you and your brother that much.”

Rusty tried to answer, but the pain in his head stopped him from doing more than giving a slight nod. He was surprised anyone from Dry Creek would remember him. He’d joined the army when he turned eighteen and hadn’t come back until he’d gotten off the plane in Billings early this morning. That was eight long years and he’d changed.

“I keep track of your brother,” the sheriff continued, his broad face looking almost sympathetic. He pushed the brim of his hat back so his eyes were no longer hidden.

Rusty nodded. “Eric is supposed to be staying with the Morgans and going to school. But they said he got temporary work on another ranch, so he wasn’t there. He thinks I’m coming next week.”

He heard another feminine gasp from behind his shoulder. He tried to turn, but his shoulder twisted in pain. He could barely hear what the sheriff was saying.

“I don’t know about any job, but your brother’s been causing trouble,” the lawman continued. “Claimed the bank cheated you all somehow. Seems your dad had a heart attack and died before he could prove he paid off the mortgage on that ranch of his. That might make your brother mad enough to steal cattle.”

Rusty didn’t say anything. He’d talked several times on the phone these past weeks with his brother and he had his own suspicions about what was happening around here. He knew his brother would never steal anyone’s cattle. Rustling had prompted their father’s need for the loan that had ultimately taken the ranch away from them all. But he feared the boy was in deeper trouble than he had thought.

“If my father says he made the payment, he did,” he finally said. That much he knew for certain. His father might have been a mean, cantankerous man, but he was honest to the point of plain stubbornness.

The sheriff looked at Rusty some more, as if weighing the words Rusty was holding back as well as the few he’d spoken. Finally, the lawman squinted at the notebook in his hand. “Anyone we can contact for you, son?”

“Just my brother, Eric. He’s the only family I have.”

Rusty felt the sweat collecting on his forehead—which made no sense, because the air was chilly.

Another shadow flitted over him, and when he blinked, he saw the woman again. He hoped he wasn’t going to pass out.

“Your brother’s Eric? Eric Calhoun?” the woman demanded, clearly upset.

The woman’s eyes were wide and he couldn’t help but notice they were the color of warm honey with flecks of cinnamon in them.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“You tell your brother to stay away from Karyn McNab,” the woman said with some steel in her voice. “She’s too young to get married.”

“Married?” Rusty repeated, stunned. “Who’s getting married?”

“Your Eric wants to marry my Karyn,” the woman said, the challenge obvious in her voice even before she added, “and I’m doing my best to stop them from making the worst mistake of their lives.”

He looked at the woman, trying to form a reply. His mouth wouldn’t work, though.

“It didn’t help that Mrs. Hargrove said they could be Mary and Joseph in the church pageant,” the woman added, putting her hands on her hips just as her daughter had done earlier. “They promised to come up with a donkey.”

Rusty closed his eyes. He used to know a Mrs. Hargrove. But now he’d lost so much blood he must be light-headed. The odd thing was that the series of sharp pains had pushed away from him, leaving the constant dull pain behind.

“Must be some other Eric,” he managed to mutter. Eric had spoken indignantly about people hinting he was involved in the cattle disappearing around Dry Creek, but he’d never said anything about a girl. “We don’t have a donkey.”

Of course, Rusty thought to himself, they didn’t have a ranch now, either.

The woman frowned at him. “Will you tell your brother what I said?”

Suddenly, Rusty tried to answer, but hesitated and then couldn’t seem to remember the question. He thought he might be going under again. He couldn’t do that. Eric needed him.

Rusty took another look at the woman as he started to fall back into the darkness. She had such a sweet face, especially now that her frown was gone and she looked as if she cared whether he faded away or not.

“Look after Annie for me,” he pleaded. “My horse. She’s pregnant.”

He wanted to see the woman again, but he couldn’t find the words to say that. He wondered if she could see inside his mind and know that he was drawn to her.

“I’ll do what I can,” she said, her voice growing increasingly distant as he felt the room tilt.

“And my dog, too?”

Rusty tried to stay conscious to hear her answer and he thought he caught a faint echo of a yes. She might not want to do a favor for him, but he was pretty sure she would go to the aid of a pregnant animal and a dog, even one who was part wolf. He would see her again, he told himself in satisfaction as he started to drift away. Now if he could only figure out what his brother was doing.


Chapter Two

Renee stared at the man, willing his chest to rise with another breath. A thick Persian rug lay beneath him—the one she’d used to help pull him inside. It had been under the man this whole time, keeping his back warm and giving him some softness. She exhaled when she saw him inhale. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath until then.

She wondered what kind of trouble he had known. Had it all been from Afghanistan or had he gotten some of those bruises closer to home?

Not that it was her business, she reminded herself. She braced herself and turned to the sheriff. “I suppose you’re going to arrest him now?”

The man was unconscious again, so she didn’t think he’d mind her asking.

“Arrest him?” The sheriff looked over in surprise. “We can’t do that. Even if cattle are missing—and it looks like they are—there’s no proof Rusty Calhoun has done anything wrong. It’s all circumstantial.”

The front door was still open, but Renee barely noticed the sting of the cold air. The snowflakes had slowed. Earlier, there had been a full moon, but the clouds had come out since then to make everything dark except where the porch light came through the windows and door of the house. The stranger’s horse was standing patiently by the porch rail. The man’s black Stetson had been pushed against the corner post by the wind. There was no sign of his dog.

“I didn’t think you needed all that much proof around here to arrest someone,” Renee finally said. She tried not to let her feelings show. “He was shot in a place where cattle are almost certainly missing. Ranchers are going out on patrol—like as not with their rifles. It’s circumstantial, sure, but you didn’t have that much more when you arrested me.”

The sound of a distant television let her know Tessie was securely in the bedroom and would not hear them. Yet neither she nor the sheriff said anything for a good minute.

Finally, the lawman shook his head. “You still hold that against me? I don’t know how many times I’ve explained that I arrested you for your own protection. You had been part of the theft at that gas station. We didn’t know at first that you’d been forced into it by your abusive husband. A blind man could see that he was setting you up to take the fall on those armed robberies he was pulling off. Even after we picked him up, that accomplice of his was still running around free and he was dangerous. I wanted to keep you safe from him. You were never even brought to trial. And it all happened a year ago. It’s not like you have a record from it or anything to hold you back.”

Renee nodded, but she didn’t meet the sheriff’s eyes. “I’d just never been arrested before. Not even a parking ticket.”

She had no quarrel with the law. The legal system might be a little black-and-white at times, but every criminal had some sad story in his background. She’d certainly had hers. And this man wouldn’t be the first wounded veteran to do something impulsive. All people needed to be held accountable for their actions. Except that she hadn’t done the crime.

“I don’t go around arresting people for no reason,” the sheriff continued gruffly, his face turning slightly pink.

“Well, I suppose I could have done better, too.” Renee had to give him that. “I didn’t help my ex-husband with those robberies, but I sure didn’t know how to stop him, either.”

When Renee had seen that her husband was robbing gas stations, she’d finally been desperate enough to come look for her father. She’d ended up at Gracie Stone’s nearby house, in as bad shape as this man was tonight.

“That doesn’t make you guilty of anything,” the sheriff said. “Stopping him was my job. What you should have done was come tell me what he was doing. Sooner than you did.”

Renee nodded. After Gracie and her father married, they welcomed her and Tessie into their family along with Gracie’s three grown sons. But Renee wouldn’t let herself lean on the Stone family. She needed to find strength inside herself if she and her daughter were ever going to have a good life. Now that she was a Christian, she believed she could do that.

“I’m not saying you should arrest this man,” she finally said. “It’s just that if you are going to arrest the guy tonight, I want you to do it now, before Tessie has a chance to come back. She thinks he’s a prince. It would break her heart to see you put handcuffs on him.”

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt that little girl,” Sheriff Wall responded. “You know that.”

The sheriff leaned back on his haunches and continued, “And while we’re on the subject, I know Tessie is not particularly comfortable with any of the men around here. Well, except for her grandfather.”

“Tessie and men are—” Renee paused, searching for the right word “—complicated.”

The sheriff nodded. “But she seems to really like this guy. At least enough to talk to him and call him a prince. She’s not afraid of him, either. That’s something for her. He needs to be checked out better, but he sounds like he’s single. I wouldn’t rule him out completely. For all their faults, the Calhouns were honest people. And Tessie sure needs a better father than the one she’s got.”

Renee turned to the lawman in astonishment.

“He’s absolutely the worst kind of man we could get involved with. Look at him.” She gestured. “Only a violent man gets that many wounds. He spouts all kind of romantic nonsense about angels just hoping some woman will be foolish enough to fall for it. He might have Tessie wrapped around his little finger, but I’ll never budge. He and my ex-husband are enough alike to be brothers. I hope I never see him again after tonight. He even has a wolf for a dog. What kind of a father would he make for a little girl?”

“Ah,” the sheriff said. “Well, that’s too bad.”

They were both silent again.

“You’ve been talking to Betty, haven’t you?” Renee finally asked.

Sheriff Wall pushed his hat down farther on his head. “Betty’s the dispatcher. I talk to her all the time.”

Renee gave the sheriff a stern look. “Just so you know—I’m not looking for a husband. She thinks I need one. I don’t. Tessie and I are doing just fine.”

“Understood,” the lawman said with something like relief in his voice. “I like to help, but I’m not much good as a matchmaker anyway.”

“No, you’re not,” Renee agreed with a smile.

The sheriff was silent for a moment and then he pointed to the phone Renee held in her hand. “Speaking of Betty, is she still—”

Renee grimaced in dismay and held out the phone. She’d forgotten all about it.

The lawman took it and put it to his ear. “You still on here, Betty? Could you call Havre and see if they have anything on a Rusty Calhoun? They probably don’t, but it’s a place to start.”

Renee could hear the ambulance as it stopped in front of the house. The sound of boots announced the arrival of two uniformed men as they came through the open doorway. The thin worker had a tattoo on his hand and the stockier one had a beard.

“This must be our patient,” the tattooed man said as he knelt and put his fingers over the pulse on Rusty’s throat. “He’s doing better than I thought he might from what Betty said.”

Renee felt relief wash over her as the two men loaded Rusty onto a gurney and wheeled him out of the house.

The sheriff hung up the phone. “They’ll take Rusty to the clinic in Miles City. There’s nothing for you to worry about. You and Tessie can go to bed.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Renee said as she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the slip of paper. “I took this out of the man’s pocket. It has a phone number on it.”

The sheriff took the paper and studied it. “Not a local number. Looks like something back east. I’ll have to give it back to him, though. No permission for a search.”

“He was unconscious,” Renee said.

“All the more reason.” The sheriff started walking toward the open door. “If I end up arresting him for anything, it could jeopardize the whole case.”

Renee could see the taillights of the ambulance through the side window on the house. A gust of cold wind blew inside before the sheriff could close the door. Renee wrapped her arms around herself. She felt the chill and shivered. She suddenly realized she’d have to see that man again. She had his horse and that beast he called a dog. She’d have to call over to the bunkhouse to see if anyone was awake to help her. She didn’t want to walk out to the barn in the dark with that animal around. Just because the man called him a dog didn’t make him one.

* * *

Early the next morning, Rusty sleepily noticed the antiseptic smell around him while his eyes were still closed. This place felt familiar, but he wasn’t ready to wake up. It was not full light yet and he heard the rumble of voices in the distance. Slowly he remembered and his entire body tensed. He started to reach for the knife he kept in his right boot. Then he realized his toes were bare. He wore no socks. His boots were gone.

He opened his eyes and tried to rise on his elbows to look around. He had trouble because he had a bandage around his chest, and one arm was tangled up somehow. He wasn’t in the humble hospital where he’d spent weeks after being wounded that last time in Afghanistan, though. The knowledge made him relax. The walls here were painted a light pink and the windows were intact. His boots were beside his bed. He slumped back against the pillows. He even smelled a hint of coffee in the distance.

A cotton blanket had been draped around him, but the air was cool. There was no hint of food and he wondered if he had missed breakfast. He had a headache, but he could easily move his left hand and reached over to the bandage on his side. His arm was in a sling. He remembered now that they’d brought him here in what seemed like the middle of the night.

He looked at the machine next to his bed and pushed the call button. The events of last night were coming back to him. He was amazed he’d headed for the Elkton ranch like a homing pigeon when he was in trouble. His mother had always said Mr. Elkton had the best ranch around. It had made his father furious, but Rusty agreed with her. He’d been ten years old when they’d first had that argument.

Now he just shook his head. He didn’t have time for memories—good or bad. He was anxious to get out of here and find out what kind of trouble his brother had gotten mixed up in.

Rusty was reaching for his boots with his good arm when his eye caught a furtive action near the open door. He glanced up just in time to see a dark shape move out of view. He hadn’t seen much, but he knew there was no white or pastel color on the figure, so it wasn’t a nurse.

“Who is it?” he demanded, realizing why he’d flashed back to Afghanistan. Someone had almost killed him last night and he didn’t know why. He could still be in danger. He’d never been as scared in his life as he had some nights in the army. He wondered if fear would always pull him back there.

He dragged his right boot close and slipped his hand down to the small pocket in the interior of the leather where he kept his knife. It was empty.

He moved to the wall beside the door anyway and lifted the boot. The heel was hard enough to knock someone out. Even clad in this threadbare hospital gown and with only one arm working, he could do enough damage to slow someone down if he had to get away.

“Rusty,” someone whispered and he relaxed. He recognized that voice. He put his boot down at the same time as his angel peeked around the corner of the doorway. He hadn’t realized last night that she was so slender and slight. Just a wisp of a woman.

“Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly. “The nurse said you were still sleeping.”

“Not anymore.” He grinned for no good reason.

Then he stopped and just looked at her. She’d been all golden and shining last night. Today she was subdued and more copper than gold. Maybe it was the difference in her hair. It wasn’t spread out in a halo this morning; she’d pulled it back into a smooth braid. The hair still captured the light, but it was deeper, more intense. And her face was paler than it had been last night. But that didn’t make sense. She wasn’t scared of him today the way she had been then.

At least, he didn’t think she was afraid today until he saw her blink. That was the exact moment she’d gotten a clear look at him.

“Someone messed with my boots,” he tried to explain, hoping that would be enough to make the sight of him seem normal as he stood hunched by the wall with his hospital gown open in the back, his boot clenched to his chest and a blanket caught in the loose ties of his gown.

“Oh.” She nodded uncertainly.

She had freckles on her nose. He wondered how he had missed that last night. And her face looked drawn, as if she was worried about something and had been for some time.

“How’s your little girl?” he asked, realizing as he said it that the woman must be married since she had a daughter who thought her father was a king.

Not that it was any of his concern if she was married.

“Fine.”

Rusty knew so little about family life. His mother had left a few months after she’d made her comments about the Elkton ranch. Then it had been Rusty, baby Eric and their father doing the best they could. It didn’t take them long to forget all of her housewife ways. They ate from tin cans when they were hungry and slept in beds without sheets when they were tired. He knew boys were expected to like that kind of life, but he would have traded it all to have his mother come back to visit, even if it was just one time.

Rusty felt the weight of the blanket and looked down long enough to untangle it and wrap it around him like a toga.

“Are you Mrs. Elkton?” he asked his visitor as he then knotted the hospital gown ties around his back so everything was secure.

Mr. Elkton had been a widower when Rusty was a boy, but a lot could have changed since then.

The woman shook her head as though what he’d said was unthinkable. “I’m the cook for the ranch hands. My daughter and I live in our own place behind the bunkhouse. We’re just taking care of the main house while the Elktons are gone. We don’t own it or anything like that.”

“Oh.” Rusty was uncomfortable now that he seemed to have made the woman feel as if she was less than he had expected. Not that he knew why she felt what she did. He must look like a deranged drifter, so she shouldn’t be worried about impressing him.

It was a reminder, though, of why he avoided pretty, delicate-looking woman like her. He never understood them and he’d had a few relationships where he’d tried. He preferred women who were uncomplicated. If they had any emotion, they kept it to themselves. Serviceable was what they were, he thought. Good soldiers. If he ever hooked up with a woman, it would be with one like that.

“I’m sorry,” Rusty finally mumbled.

Just then a nurse sailed into the room, a clipboard in her hands and a small frown on her face. She assessed the situation in a glance. “If you’re looking for that knife of yours, the sheriff took it out of your boot. We don’t allow weapons in the hospital.”

“Of course you don’t.” Rusty was more comfortable with a woman like that. The nurse was starched and disapproving, without a hair out of place. She knew how to take orders and give them. She couldn’t be hurt or dismayed by anything he did.

“The sheriff also said you’re free to go when we’re finished with you,” the nurse added.

“Thanks,” Rusty said.

“You had a knife?” his visitor asked then, apparently still shocked. “All that time last night, you had a knife?”

The woman’s voice rose in hysteria. She made his spine tingle. He felt an urge to promise he’d never touch a knife again, not even to cut his steak. Or butter his bread, if it came to that.

“I wasn’t going to use it,” he assured her as best he could. It didn’t seem to do much good, if the outraged expression on her face was any indicator.

“Honestly,” he added. “I left my military blade in the hospital back east and bought the kind of knife the ranch hands usually have. It’s more to cut twine than hurt anyone.”

She looked at him, suspicion pinching her face. “Some men have been trained to kill with a fork.”

“Not me,” he said, defending himself. He could kill with a ballpoint pen, but he thought it best not to mention that. “I’m finished with violence.”

The chaplain had brought him that far, at least. He wasn’t prepared to gather any more guilt on his soul over people being hurt. Not even when it came to the feelings of a flighty, emotional woman like this one.

“I need to take your vitals,” the nurse announced as she stopped pushing buttons on the machine by the bed. “It’s best if you’re lying down when I do.”

“Just a minute.” Rusty kept his eyes on his visitor. She wasn’t looking too steady.

“My daughter was there,” she finally said, as though that explained it all.

Even if he hadn’t done anything to cause her distress, Rusty didn’t like seeing her this way. He reached to his left and pulled a chair over for her. He was remembering more about last night the longer he stood there. Maybe he wasn’t as blameless as he thought.

“I promise you were safe,” he assured her. He wasn’t sure how she’d react if he took her hand, but that was what he wanted to do. “I’m sure I scared you, but I would never have hurt you. I owe you my life. If you hadn’t taken me into your house last night, I would have died.”

He hated to say it, but he was a fair man. She deserved the acknowledgment. “I owe you big-time.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she said, a little downcast.

That wasn’t the response he’d expected.

“Well, I’d like to think you don’t regret it,” he said a bit stiffly.

She finally sat down on the chair.

“No, I don’t regret it,” she admitted and a shy smile formed at the edge of her mouth. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was teasing him. “Not too much, at least.”

The morning light came in through the window and settled around her, making her face shine a little. He could see why he’d thought her skin was the color of pearls last night.

“You truly are remarkable,” he said softly.

Her honey-colored eyes widened and the specks in them seemed to multiply. She clearly hadn’t expected him to be that nice.

“I’m just myself,” she said.

That was why he should never forget that excitable women were completely incomprehensible to him. It wasn’t as if he’d been going to lean over and kiss her or anything. She didn’t need to be alarmed at a simple compliment.

And then he realized he was standing too close. She was sitting in the chair and he was leaning in a little so he could talk to her easily. Hovering, really. Maybe he would have kissed her if she kept smiling that way.

That would never do, he thought as he straightened himself.

“What I should have said is that I’ll pay you for last night.” He instinctively reached for his wallet. Which, of course, he didn’t have since his clothes were gone. He looked over at the small table beside his hospital bed. “Don’t worry. I’ll write a check before you leave.”

“I really should take your blood pressure,” the nurse interjected. “And don’t let Renee tell you that she’s just a cook. She keeps that bunkhouse working. Doctors the men when they’re sick. Makes them take their vitamins. Sees they call their families.”

“So your name’s Renee,” Rusty said with a smile.

The woman gave a curt nod. “Renee Gray.”

“Lovely name. I’m Rusty Cal—”

“—houn,” Renee and the nurse said in unison and then laughed.

“There’s no such thing as a stranger around here,” the nurse finally said. “We all know your name.”

“Can you give us a minute?” Rusty asked the nurse. He still wasn’t certain that Renee was doing so well this morning. She was acting a little erratic, in his opinion. Scared one moment and delirious the next.

“Well, I guess I can come back later,” the nurse agreed.

Rusty couldn’t detect any hint of hurt feelings or dismay in the nurse’s voice. Yes, she was the kind of woman for him, even if he couldn’t quite picture kissing her.

“Now,” Rusty said when he turned to Renee. The nurse was gone and he realized he had nothing left to say. “Oh, and I owe you for taking care of Annie, too,” he suddenly remembered.

She shook her head. “Pete, one of the ranch hands, helped me. She’s doing fine in the barn.” She paused. “I didn’t see your dog, but Pete and I left some steak bones out by the barn and they were gone this morning.”

“He’s around. He won’t be far from Annie.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dog.”

“He looks like a wolf.”

“That’s why I call him Dog. To remind people.”

“Oh.”

“Tell Pete thanks, too.”

Rusty was going to owe a lot of people before this was all over.

“I—ah.” The woman nodded and then stood up. “I came because I called the Elktons this morning and told them what happened last night. Mr. Elkton wanted me to pass along an invitation for you to stay in the bunkhouse, if you want—with the ranch hands. Mr. Elkton said he remembered you from when you’d worked for him a few days when you were a boy.”

“Really? He remembered me after all these years?”

That touched him.

Renee nodded. “He said he’d never seen a kid work like you did. And all for a necklace. Wouldn’t even take a break for a soda. And then you came back two extra Saturdays and chopped wood because you thought he’d overpaid you the first time.”

“We Calhouns don’t take charity.” Rusty wouldn’t have been able to buy the necklace in time if he hadn’t accepted the man’s extra money, though.

“Well, I hope whoever you bought those pearls for appreciated it,” Renee said politely. “Mr. Elkton remembered you describing it to him. Said you talked about it being the most beautiful strand of pearls ever strung together.”

“I should have taken those pearls out and buried them like Dog does his bones in the backyard,” he said bitterly.

“Oh.”

Renee looked at him for a bit.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he finally admitted. “They were proper pearls. Still are. It’s not their fault they weren’t good enough.”

He saw no point in stirring up past heartache. He’d bought the pearls for his mother’s birthday, only to have her leave home with some guy in a pickup five hours after Rusty had given the necklace to her. She didn’t even have the courage to tell his father what she was doing. She’d left when his father was out in the fields and Rusty had to tell him what happened. Rusty hadn’t known his mother had left the necklace behind until he went to bed and saw it on his pillow. No note or anything with it.

They had been the best pearls Rusty could afford, but they were not good enough for her. Something in him had given up that day. Maybe that was why he never seemed to understand those pretty, delicate-looking women like his mother. He’d never tried again to please a woman—and now the same kind of soul-churning woman stood in front of him with that hesitant look on her face, clearly unsure of how she felt about him.

Putting the past behind him, he stood up, military tall. “Tell Mr. Elkton that I appreciate his offer of a place to stay.”

“Well, it’s just a temporary arrangement until you can get settled somewhere else,” Renee added and then swallowed. “We just— He didn’t know if you had anywhere to go.”

“I’ll do something while I’m there to earn my keep. And I’m serious when I say I want to pay you for the care you gave me last night.”

“I didn’t do much,” the woman said with a shrug that reminded him again of his mother. They both looked as if they carried the weight of the world on their backs and were too fragile to survive. His heart always went out to women like that.

“Well, I’d still like to pay you something,” he said. Right was still right, even if he shouldn’t get involved with her.

She looked at him again for a minute.

“Maybe you could do me a small favor,” she finally said, biting the corner of her lips nervously.

“Of course.”

“I want you to talk to my daughter.”

Rusty was surprised. “I don’t really have much in common with little girls.”

Truthfully, he’d rather give the woman a few hundred dollars.

“Just tell her you don’t have a message from her father,” the woman said in a rush. “That you don’t even know her father. Tell her you’re not a prince.”

“I guess I could do that,” he said slowly. “Those things are all true.”

And they were fairly obvious, he would think, even to a child.

The woman nodded. “Good, then. It’s settled. Tessie is at the practice for the nativity pageant. You can come with me to pick her up.”

Rusty nodded.

“Just be careful not to volunteer to play a part.”

“Me?” No one had ever suggested he belonged in a pageant before. The thought was rather alarming. “I don’t think I’m the type.”

“Good.” Renee seemed relieved. “The kids are so impressionable at that age.”

“I’m sure they’re all angels,” he assured her, trying not to let it sting that she thought he was a danger to the children.

She laughed and left his room, much to his relief.

It took the hospital five minutes to find his clothes and another forty-five minutes to discharge him. Rusty wasn’t sure Renee would still be waiting for him, but he found her in the lobby area, leafing through a magazine.

He walked toward her. “Thanks for staying.”

She stood up. “Later you’ll be able to share the pickups that the ranch hands drive around. But until then, I figure all you have is your horse. Unless you want to ride around on that wolf of yours.”

Rusty nodded. “Dog is pretty big, all right. Thanks for looking out for him and Annie. I’ll take them back to the Morgan ranch as soon as I can ride. Unless I’ve found a place to rent by then. And I’ll ask around for a pickup to buy.”

He didn’t want her to think he was poor. He’d never given much thought to money when he was in the service, but he did have a good-sized savings account.

“You should wait to spend any money until you get the hospital bill,” she said. “You might be amazed at how much it costs to get fixed up now that you’re not in the army. I know you’ve had your share of hospital stays.”

There was something off about the look she gave him then, as though she had a secret and it was making her blush. Why would she care about his hospitalizations, anyway? How did she even know about them?

It wasn’t until he followed her outside that he figured it out.


Chapter Three

Renee opened the door to the backseat of the cab and pulled out a long-handled white scraper. Without saying anything to Rusty, she cleared her usual small hole in the ice on the windshield. She had expected him to walk around to the other side of the pickup and sit inside while she finished. After all, it was cold enough outside to see their breath and he’d just been released from the hospital.

But he stood behind her waiting, one free hand tucked in the pocket of his jacket and the other curled up in that sling.

“That’s it,” she informed him cheerfully after scraping the small space twice. She did it once for the ice and then again for the snowflakes that had started to fall.

“That’s not enough.” Rusty held out his hand. “Here. Give it to me.”

“I don’t see—”

He just held out his hand.

“Well, fine, then.” She gave him the scraper and he took her place at the windshield. She hadn’t expected him to do much with it, but he started in on the bottom corner of the windshield, scraping away until the cleared space grew larger.

“You might as well wait inside,” he finally said and opened the cab door for her with his left hand. “This is going to take a few minutes.”

Renee went inside and turned the heat on. She decided something was highly suspicious about this man. He’d done half of the windshield now, walked around the pickup to the other side and was still scraping so hard she thought both his shoulders must hurt. But he didn’t grimace or slow down. Or look irritated. In fact, she thought she heard him whistling, low and quiet. For some reason, that reminded her of the gangster who would never walk past a cat without petting it enough to make it purr. There was something unnatural about so much goodwill in a man like him, who’d seen so much violence.

Renee refused to watch his progress, so she looked out her side window. Last night’s blizzard had left a foot of snow on the ground and the tire tracks in the parking lot were deep. Fortunately, she already knew the county plow had cleared the freeway between Miles City and the Dry Creek exit, so they would be able to get through.

When Rusty finally opened the passenger door and pulled himself inside, his cheeks were red from the freezing air and a few snowflakes sparkled in his black hair. He bent down to set the scraper on the floor mat and then straightened up to rub his hand against his jeans. He might have just been warming it, but she suspected his actions meant he felt satisfied with what he’d done.

“Thank you,” Renee said and looked over at him with her best fake smile. He had brushed the snow off of the hood, too. “But I could see well enough out of the little patch I cleared. You really didn’t need to go to all that work.”

Rusty grunted. “I certainly did if I wanted to be sure I’d live to see another day. A soldier is only as good as his equipment. What if a vehicle suddenly decides to pass on your blind side?”

“Well—” She pursed her lips and put the pickup in gear, backing out of the parking space. “People shouldn’t be going that fast on these kinds of roads anyway.”

Renee didn’t regret the self-righteous tone in her voice. Who was he to lecture her on safety? She wasn’t the one riding around at night on a pregnant horse and getting shot at, for goodness’ sake.

She turned around in the clinic lot and drove to the parking exit. She looked both ways, just to show she was safety minded, and then eased the vehicle onto the main road.

“People don’t always do what you’d expect,” Rusty said and his voice had an element in it that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t quite amusement, but it was something just as warm. “Sometimes people surprise you.”

He looked at her and that was when she knew he wasn’t speaking about the other drivers on the road. For the first time this morning, she felt nervous. He meant her.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked as she steered the pickup onto the freeway.

He shrugged. “Just that a man never knows.”

She didn’t look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her.

“If you’re talking about that invitation to stay at the ranch, it came from my boss. I was only following orders.” The windshield was going to need defrosting in addition to the scraping.

“It’s not the invitation,” Rusty said.

“Well, then?” No other vehicles were around her, so she turned to glance at him.

“You took my shirt off, didn’t you?” he finally said.

She turned her eyes back to the road ahead. She could feel the embarrassment crawl up her neck and warm her cheeks. She reached over and moved the heat knob to the defrost setting. She should have known the man was difficult after all that windshield business. No one scraped the full windshield.

“And you did it while I was unconscious,” the man added for emphasis, making it seem much worse than it was.

“It’s not what it sounds like,” Renee said as she turned onto the ramp leading to the freeway. “I was checking you for guns.”

“I don’t have a gun,” he said, taking the same tone she had over all the unnecessary scraping he had done.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Renee looked over at him in exasperation. “You had a bullet in your shoulder. Only a fool doesn’t have a gun if they are going to be out there getting shot at.”

There was a little slickness to the asphalt. Renee was glad there wasn’t much traffic. Even that slow-moving pickup ahead of them wouldn’t be a problem.

Everything was quiet in the cab.

“I know you’re worried about weapons,” Rusty said then. “So I forgive you.”

She turned sharply to face him. “There’s nothing to forgive. The police dispatcher asked me to check. It was—ah—official.”

At that very moment, a burst of morning sun broke through the overcast sky above them and shone through the side window, bathing Rusty in all its glory. He’d managed to shave before leaving the hospital and he looked positively virtuous. She could hardly believe he was the same dangerous-looking man from last night. His black hair drooped softly over his forehead and the dark circles under his eyes had almost disappeared.

He turned to look at her and arched an eyebrow. “The police dispatcher asked you to take off my shirt?”

“I didn’t—” Renee stammered. She suddenly remembered she had opened up his shirt after she’d looked for a gun. And Betty hadn’t told her to unbutton anything. “I didn’t take it all of the way off.”

“That’s okay.” Rusty spread his fingers in a V, making the traditional peace gesture. “I already said I forgive you.”

“If you would just listen,” Renee said then, her temper giving her voice substance, “my only concern is that if you’re going to get shot, you should have a gun! You need to defend yourself. No reason to be target practice for someone. Or can’t you shoot a gun?”

Renee knew she was making no sense. She hadn’t wanted him to have a gun until she realized he was in danger.

“I can shoot,” he said grimly. The clouds returned and the sunlight around him fell away.

Renee should have known he’d be familiar with guns. He had been in the army, after all. Still, she’d been up half of the night thinking about what could have happened to him out there in the darkness with someone gunning for him. There were miles and miles of ranch land and only a few buildings in this part of Montana. He could have ridden around all night and not found a single inhabited house. If the man was going to take on a life of crime—and she suspected that was the case even though the sheriff hadn’t found any proof yet—he needed to approach it with some common sense.

“I guess you could always get one of those vests that the police wear,” she added when he didn’t say anything. “I don’t know where you buy them, but Sheriff Wall would know.”

Rusty turned and looked at her for some time. “You’re really worried about me, aren’t you?”

He sounded astonished.

“Just because I don’t want to see you dead doesn’t mean I care,” she snapped back at him in a not-so-nice way. Which made her feel bad.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been under a lot of strain lately.”

He held his hand up again with that ridiculous peace gesture. She wished he’d say something, but he just sat there.

Well, Renee told herself, this was turning into one uncomfortable drive.

She scrambled to find something else to talk about. “Did they feed you breakfast before they let you go?” His silence was making her feel rattled. She was only trying to show a little human compassion. He didn’t need to be so difficult.

The best way to treat this man, she decided, was to pretend he was nothing but another ranch hand. He was younger than most of the men Mr. Elkton had working for him these days and certainly better-looking, but he probably liked to eat as much as any of them. The truth was that some of the men could spend hours describing the perfect pancake. And then they’d start in on the different kinds of syrups they liked to have with their perfect pancakes.

“The nurse gave me a biscuit and some coffee,” Rusty said without enthusiasm. “Cream for the coffee.”

“Well, that’s not enough,” Renee protested congenially. In addition to talking about food, the ranch hands loved to complain about it. “You lost a lot of blood. They should have fried you some beef liver or something.”

“For breakfast?” he protested.

Renee nodded. “It’s got lots of iron. Beets do, too.”

“That doesn’t mean I want beets for breakfast.”

“Well, oatmeal, then—with raisins.”

By the time they finished talking about what kinds of food were appropriate for the breakfast of a man who had been wounded and half-frozen the night before, they were turning off the freeway and heading into Dry Creek.

There was more snow on the road now and Renee was glad all the Elkton pickups had four-wheel drive. She’d also chosen the one that had a back bench, so there was lots of room for Tessie’s booster seat. Her daughter didn’t officially need it anymore, but she’d only just turned five and she was small for her age.

“Don’t they ever change that sign instead of just repainting over the numbers?” Rusty scowled as he nodded his head toward the green metal sign that read Welcome to Dry Creek. “I think it said population one-oh-eight when I was here last. Now, eight years later, it’s population one-oh-two. The two looks funny.”

Renee loved that sign. In the spring, someone always planted gladiolus bulbs in the dirt beside it and the flowers bloomed in all kinds of colors for almost a month. It reminded Renee of English tea shops and elegant nurseries. Not that Dry Creek had either of those, but somehow, she told herself, they had the same spirit.

“Just because someone moves away is no reason to throw out a perfectly good sign,” Renee said as she took a firmer grip on the wheel and sat up straighter in the driver’s seat. “Don’t know why anyone would want to leave, but some do.”





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