Rebecca Winters: A Montana Cowboy

“Exactly. Dad, who was in a bad way at the time because of what Ned had tried to do to Jarod, wasn’t thinking rationally. Like my older brothers, he’d always been afraid of Ned’s temper and as usual took his side to placate him. He fired Logan and ordered me not to marry him in order to keep the peace.”

“He ordered you?” Trace was incredulous.

“Dad used the very word. Shocking, isn’t it? But I couldn’t obey him. At that point he told me that if we went ahead with our marriage, then I no longer had a home with the family. Out of fear, Mother backed Dad by not saying anything at all. My other brothers took their cue from mom and stayed out of things.”

Incredible. “I had no idea of the stress you’ve been through.” And here Trace had been wondering why she hadn’t gone home to her family after her husband was killed. She’d never want to go there again unless a miracle happened.

“No one knew. It isn’t something you want other people to know, but I’m aware of your close friendship with my cousins and realize you probably know everything.”

No, not everything. Not this.

She let out a deep sigh. “I loved Logan, so that was that. We got married in a civil ceremony and took a job with your father to run the ranch for him. I broke down and told him my whole situation. He’s such a wonderful man. Mostly I checked hunting permits and collected fees while Logan monitored the hunters’ activities throughout the season. Thanks to your dad, this job saved our lives.”

So many people loved and respected Trace’s father. He was an exceptional man. “I take it nothing has changed with your family?”

She hunched her shoulders. “Absolutely nothing. Though extended family and a lot of neighbors came to Logan’s funeral in White Lodge, my parents didn’t come near or even try to talk to me.”

“I can’t conceive of it. There’s something very wrong with him, Cassie.”

“I know. The doctor has urged me to stay in therapy. I’m glad I have because I’ve since learned that along with their other emotional problems, my parents are battered people and need a lot of intensive counseling.”

“I could have used therapy when I was young,” Trace admitted in a moment of self-reflection.

“Everyone could. In the case of our family I’ve learned that Ned irritated our older brothers to the point they didn’t want to be around him. Ned had already felt abandoned when Sadie, the girl he’d always loved, married my cousin Jarod. In his jealousy he almost killed Jarod in order to get rid of him.”

Trace nodded. “It was very tragic.”

Cassie grimaced. “When I married Logan and moved away from the ranch, Ned began nursing an unhealthy hatred toward me.”

“You think he could have killed your husband to hurt you?”

“It’s possible,” she said, “but I don’t know how he could have left the ranch without someone knowing about it. Zane did an investigation. None of my father’s firearms were missing or had been fired close to that time. In any event, Dad had people keeping an eye on my brother.”

“But if he went off his meds, he might have found a way to make it over to this ranch. Is that what you’re thinking?” Trace asked.

“He could have. One of the guys he hung around with in high school is still his friend and visits him. Through him it’s possible he got hold of a gun or rifle he hid somewhere before he’d been committed. I try not to think about it or I get ill.”

“That’s why the military disqualifies a person with a history of mood or behavioral disorders.”

“Exactly. But home isn’t the military, and my parents want him back to help around the ranch.”

“That’s hard on everyone.”

“I’ve talked this over with Zane. If Ned was the one responsible, Zane will find out in time. After the shooting, he advised your father to close the ranch to hunting and keep it closed until more proof of what really happened came to light. As you know, he was a tough Navy SEAL before he started working as a special agent for the BLM.”

“I know him by reputation. Let’s hope he has an answer for you soon.”

“Yes. Avery said Ned is going to be coming back to live with my parents again on a permanent basis.” The anxiety in her eyes spoke volumes.

Trace cringed for her. “With restrictions, of course.”

“I don’t know what they’d be as long as he keeps taking his medicine.”

“Cassie, I’m sorry you’ve had to live through such pain.” To lose her husband and be afraid that her brother might have been the one to shoot him was horrendous. Worse, he could tell she was worried that Ned might come after her one day when he got the chance. That frightening possibility was going to keep Trace awake nights from here on out.

He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of Cassie’s loss, but she was obviously handling it. She was a strong woman to have married for love despite her father’s wishes. Trace admired that strength and her will to get on with her life.

Just then his cell rang. He checked the caller ID. “It’s my dad. He’s on his way to the ranch now.”

“Then let’s get back. I have a pot roast with potatoes and carrots cooking.”

“I could smell it before we left the house. Did he tell you that’s my favorite meal?”

She smiled. “That’s why I made it. To welcome you home. He’s so happy you’re going to be living here from now on, you can’t imagine.”

Trace was afraid he could and didn’t look forward to the conversation he was about to have. When they reached the barn and dismounted to take care of the horses, he turned to her. She was removing Buttercup’s bridle. “I want to thank you for what you and Logan have done.”

“We were just doing our job.”

“It was a lot more than that and you know it. You’ve eased my father’s mind while I’ve been away and made the place beautiful. There’s no way to repay you. I’ll feed and water the horses while you go into the house. It’s the least I can do.”

Once dinner was over, Trace went out on the front porch with his father. He sat on a chair while his dad settled for the swing. “That Cassie could make her living as a cook.”

“Agreed. I can’t remember the last time I had a meal that good.”

His dad studied Trace. “You’re talking home cooked. Nothing like it.” Trace nodded. “Do you have any idea how good it feels to be sitting on the porch with my son after all these years?”

Trace’s throat thickened. “I do,” he murmured. More than you can imagine .

His dad’s hair was a sandy color mixed with gray. Lines from years of outdoor living gave his rugged features character. He’d dressed in one of his familiar plaid shirts and jeans, and he wore a belt with a silver and turquoise buckle, his trademark.

One of the tribal elders from the reservation had presented it to him for saving their horses from dying during an equine flu epidemic. The tribe had bought some horses in Mexico and had them transported. But several of them had the virus. Afraid all the horses would die, they came to Trace’s father.

Trace, who had been only eight years old at the time, remembered going out to the reservation with him to test the horses. Sam told the elders all they could do was rest them for a month in fresh air in a shady, confined area. Walk them for short periods to maintain circulation during the fever and coughing. Keep them away from dust and hay to minimize the risk of bacterial infections of the lungs. Then give them an antibody vaccine booster every three months.

The horses looked and sounded miserable to Trace. He couldn’t imagine his father’s treatment working. But in a month’s time the tribe hadn’t lost one of them and he’d become a valued friend of the Crow.