Rebecca Winters - Her Wyoming Hero

This was it. The day she’d been praying for had come.

Freedom.

Joy of joys, she and Andy were the only ones in the Wentworth family invited to stay on the Wyoming ranch. They would have a whole week to themselves to get closer and make plans for the future. When they left, they would be going to a new place to live. She had it all arranged. If her in-laws wanted to remain in her life and Andy’s, they would have to deal with her move and accept it.

The letter inviting them here had served as a stepping-stone to their new life. When these retired marines had shown such kindness and generosity, she’d been moved to tears, not only for Andy’s sake, but her own. Not that her son hadn’t had a different attitude than hers when she’d first told him.

“I’m not going.” He’d sounded so much like his obstinate deceased father, with that same mulish tone of voice that often crept in these days. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Honey, this is a great honor for all of us. Think of it—these military men are trying to show you how much they care what your dad did to save lives.”

“I don’t want to go.” He’d kicked the end of his bed in anger.

“Andy—I never want to see you do that again!”

“But a dude ranch sounds stupid!” He’d turned away from her.

To her horror, he was becoming more and more unmanageable lately. He hadn’t seemed to enjoy the cruise vacation at all. His grandparents were so cold and controlling. Winn’s death only served to have brought a permanent winter into their lives. Though she’d been out of love with her husband for years, she ached for Andy and what he was going through, after losing his father.

“How could a vacation like this be stupid?”

“They’re a bunch of lame marines. I hate them!”

Kit thought she understood. To Andy, a letter from the marines represented death and was a terrible reminder of the many months over the years his father had been away on deployment.

This trip would be the first time in years the two of them were completely on their own without the family there to run Andy’s life. Though he’d finally stopped fighting her over the decision to bring him to Wyoming, she saw the deep misery in his eyes. Unfortunately, her darling son had no idea how much more misery was in store for him if they didn’t make the break from his grandparents, who were swallowing them alive.

Winn and his parents had decided years ago that when Andy turned nine, he would be sent to a special elite boarding school located an hour away from Bar Harbor where discipline was strictly enforced. He’d be granted a weekend pass twice a month if he kept up his grades. He was due to start school there in mid-September.

Winn had been sent to the same school at his age and expected that for Andy. It was tradition among the Wentworths, one of the founding families of Maine. Her husband had paid the $50,000 deposit years earlier to reserve his place.

It didn’t matter that he was no longer alive. Andy’s grandfather would carry out his son’s wishes and ignore hers. But Andy was her son and her raison d’être. When Kit had objected because she wanted Andy at home with her, he’d stated the matter was closed.

Since his death the tension at the Wentworth mansion had grown much worse. The out-of-the-blue letter from the ranch was a miracle, and had helped give her the jump start she needed to make some serious decisions. She knew that for her to move out and get a life of her own would be a huge change for both of them—not to mention traumatic for her in-laws.

That’s why she needed this week in Wyoming first to prepare Andy. It would mean treading carefully to broach this plan with her son. If his anger grew any worse, he could possibly require professional help. What if in time Andy turned into his grandfather, outgrowing the sweetness of his nature he’d been born with?

“Honey?” she said quietly. “We’ve arrived.”

His eyes blinked open. They were a lighter gray than Winn’s. His cheek had a line indented into it from lying against the seat. When he slept he became her dear son again, instead of the impossible nine-year-old child she no longer knew.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom before we leave the plane?”

“No.” His rude answer resonated in the jet’s interior. He unfastened his seat belt and got up with a scowl on his face. “I told you I don’t want to be here.”

She was sick for him, knowing he was a volcano ready to explode from all of the pain and emotion he held inside. Kit had lost her influence over him years ago, but she was his mother and he needed her. Even if he wasn’t aware of it.

Because the family had her trapped in an emotional vise of guilt, she’d been ineffectual in dealing with him. Now, that was going to change—she couldn’t live under the same roof with her in-laws any longer. She had to leave, and when she did there’d be no going back.

With his shoulders slumped, Andy started down the aisle behind the other passengers without saying anything else. She grabbed her handbag and followed him to the exit. When they reached the inside of the terminal, Kit saw a cowboy in well-worn boots striding toward them with unconscious male authority. A brown Western shirt and jeans covered his tall, fit physique.

The striking male looked to be in his early thirties. He tipped back his sand-colored cowboy hat, revealing a widow’s peak of raven-black hair. There were no rings on his fingers. “Mrs. Wentworth?”

As she moved closer his dark brown eyes sized her up. They were neither admiring or leering, one of the two looks she was used to receiving from men. For the first time since she could remember, she saw a guarded look coming from the stranger’s eyes and wondered why.

“Are you Mr. Lundgren?”

“No. I’m Ross Livingston, his business partner.” He possessed a deep voice, but his civil response didn’t have the Western twang she’d expected.

“I remember your name from the letter. It’s a great pleasure to meet you. This is my son, Andy. I’m sorry if you had trouble meeting this earlier plane. We’ve been in Norway and caught a flight out of New York to Denver that put us in here ahead of schedule.”

“No problem at all. We’re glad you arrived safely.”

Still feeling unsettled by the way he’d been looking at her, she said, “We’re very honored you would choose our family when there are so many others affected by the war. Andy’s father would be incredibly proud.”

“After your husband’s sacrifice, we consider it our pleasure.” He stepped forward to shake their hands but focused his attention on Andy. “Welcome to the Teton Valley Dude Ranch, son.” After a cough he asked, “Have you ever been to Wyoming?”

“No.” The peeved sound that came out of Andy was totally mortifying to her.

Kit glanced at their host. “I’m afraid he just woke up from a sound sleep.”

“I understand. Long transatlantic flights do the same thing to me.” He’d said it with urbane sophistication, acting as if nothing was wrong, but she knew he knew there was plenty wrong with her son. “Let’s gather your luggage.”

They walked over to the carousel. “We have three cases. They’re the navy ones with the red-and-white trim.”

He reached for them, and they followed him outside past the other passengers to a black, four-door Jeep. He stowed the suitcases in the rear with what looked like effortless ease. To her consternation, the play of hard muscle across his back and shoulders drew her attention without her volition.

Andy just stood there without helping, causing Kit more embarrassment. Their host spoke to him. “Do you prefer the front or backseat?”

“Back,” he mumbled.

“I’ll sit with you, honey.” Kit opened the rear door and climbed in before Mr. Livingston had time to help. Andy got in next to her and pulled the door shut. Their host slid his powerful body behind the wheel of the Jeep, coughing again before they took off.