Brenda Minton - Reunited With The Rancher

Isaac, the gray-eyed stranger had a name.

Carson motioned toward the door. “Be my guest. Isaac will pick you up when you fall on your face.”

“You wouldn’t make a good local doctor. You need a better bedside manner.”

Carson tamped down on a smile. “Right. I guess I’m a chip off the old block.”

They sat there for a minute staring each other down, then Jack sighed. “Isaac, I’m afraid he’s right. These old legs are too shaky for that walk back to the house.”

“I’ll get a wheelchair.” Isaac headed toward the door. “Say one thing to upset him and you’ll answer to me.”

Carson didn’t bother to respond. He waited until the other man—Isaac—was gone before he approached Jack again. “I assume you’ve been to a specialist?”

“Yeah, I have. It’s nothing major.”

“I would beg to differ, but what do I know. I’m only a doctor.”

“Without a bedside manner.” Jack closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Jack said. “Stay here for a few days. We can talk.”

“I don’t think so.” Now, knowing Jack was sick, Carson didn’t have the heart for the confrontation. He’d come here expecting the same ranch, the same Jack West, and nothing was what he’d expected.

He pulled a chair close and a moment later Kylie appeared pushing a wheelchair. Carson looked behind her, then he looked to Isaac, looming just inside the door. “Where are my kids?”

Kylie pushed the chair close. “They’re with Eve. Don’t worry. She’s watching them. I just thought it would be easier to do this if they weren’t here. And less traumatic for them.”

He didn’t leave his children with strangers. For good reason. Kylie must have seen something in his expression, because she sighed.

“Carson, they’re safe. I promise.”

“Of course they are.” He glanced at his watch and opened the pill bottle again. “Time for a second dose.”

“You take a second dose,” Jack grumbled, but he took the second pill.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Kylie said as she slid an arm behind Jack to help him up out of the chair. “Come on, Oscar.”

“I’m not a grouch.” Jack managed a half grin as he said it.

“Yes, you are.” Kylie smoothed Jack’s hair and gave him a thorough looking over. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good.”

“I’ll help him get up.” Isaac took over, lifting Jack to his feet and helping him into the wheelchair.

“Getting old stinks,” Jack said. His voice was weaker than it had been.

Carson reached for his wrist and felt for a pulse.

“Still have a heart?” Jack asked.

“You’re not funny,” Kylie whispered, with tears in her eyes.

Carson averted his attention and looked down at Jack. “You do still have a heart. But I think it would be good to get you to the house and get you in bed.”

It took ten minutes to get Jack back and settled in his recliner in the living room. He insisted he would be most comfortable in the big leather chair. Kylie brought him water and something for the headache, brought on by the nitroglycerin.

Carson was checking Jack’s blood pressure with a monitor Kylie had given him when Isaac appeared with Maggie and Andy. Maggie had her arms around Isaac’s neck and she jabbered, telling him a story that he probably couldn’t make much sense of. Andy followed, but he was expressionless as he tapped a steady rhythm on his leg, a sure sign he was distressed by the unfamiliar situation and place.

He had to get them somewhere and get them settled. Soon. Andy needed a stable place, his things around him, structure. The only way to provide that was to get where they were going as quickly as possible, and find a home where they could start over.

As he considered his next move, the puppy that had been with Kylie appeared. It immediately went to Andy, and Carson watched as his son dropped to the floor and put his arms around the animal. Andy’s features relaxed and he smiled as he pulled the puppy close and buried his face in its yellow fur.

Maggie gave the dog a few pats, then she toddled up to Carson. He lifted her and she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Potty.”

“The bathroom is through the kitchen and next to the utility room,” Kylie offered. “I can show you.”

“Thank you. We’ll take care of that and then we need to get on the road. I want to be in a hotel before bedtime.”

“No.” Andy spoke quietly, his face pressed against the dog.

“Andy?” Carson reached for his son, but Andy pulled back, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to go.”

“But we have to.” Carson shifted, putting himself clearly in his son’s line of vision.

Andy looked up, suddenly focused. He shook his head and pulled the Labrador puppy close. “No. I want to stay.”

Carson paused at the unexpected outburst from his son. Because Andy was on the autism spectrum, even though it was mild, he rarely put more than a few words together.

The puppy seemed to be the key.

“I’m sorry, Andy, but we can’t stay.”

Andy shook his head again. Carson became aware of Kylie moving closer. Briefly her hand touched his arm. He looked up and she smiled, thoroughly undoing something inside him that he’d been holding together for thirty-two long months. Now wasn’t the most opportune time for him to remember that he had once loved holding a woman close. A teenager, he reminded himself. They’d been little more than kids when they’d known one another. They’d held hands, made up impossible dreams for the future, and then it had ended.

“Andy could take a walk with Skip before you go,” Kylie suggested. “It’ll give him a chance to unwind, get some fresh air. It might make it easier for him to get back in the car. I’ll take him down to see the new calves while you change Maggie.”

Kylie held a hand out to Andy and he watched his son slip his small hand in to hers. He’d just been taken by surprise again.

* * *

Kylie led Andy out the back door and down the steps. The little boy seemed to be keeping his focus on Skip, and the more he did, the less he tapped at his leg.

“Do you like to swing?” she asked as they crossed the lawn in the direction of the swing Jack had maintained with fresh ropes and the occasional new board. The swing, always a reminder that a long time ago there had been children on this ranch.

Now there were veterans, both men and women. They worked on the ranch with the cattle, with horses Jack raised, and even with the dogs. They were also learning new skills doing construction projects in town.

Kylie glanced down at the little boy holding her hand. He glanced in the direction of the swing and then his gaze briefly shifted to meet hers. He nodded in answer to her question.

“I think your daddy played on this swing when he was a little boy. Would you like for me to push you on it?”

Again he nodded.

When they got to the swing, she lifted him to the seat and showed him how to hold tightly to the rope. She gave him a push and his hands tightened even more. The next time she pushed a little easier and noticed that he relaxed.

As she pushed the swing she told him about the ranch and about knowing his daddy when he was a boy. She didn’t share the part about how her heart had broken when he left. He hadn’t said goodbye. It had broken her heart because she’d allowed herself to believe the fairy tales they’d spun as they’d ridden bikes and played in the creek. At thirteen she’d really believed that someday they would get married.

And like all young girls, she’d believed in their dreams of a perfect life and a happy home, where no one would ever yell or hurt them. Ever again.