Wrangler's Challenge, page 27
“Couldn’t you stay at their ranch and work?”
Shaking her head, she said, “Dad’s wranglers have been there since I left at eighteen for the Marine Corps, Charlie. He can’t fire one of them and replace him with me. That wouldn’t be right. Everyone needs a job. And both those wranglers have families and mouths to feed. No, I wouldn’t do that to them.”
Giving her a twinkling look, Charlie said, “And your parents raised you to be a kind, good person, Tara. There’s hope here. You know Shaylene Crawford? You two grew up here in Wind River and went through school together.”
“Sure, I know Shay. Why?”
“Well, you’ve been gone a long time, and maybe your parents haven’t filled you in yet on all the goings-on here in Wind River Valley. Shay’s dad, Ray, suffered a stroke at forty-nine. Shay had to get a hardship discharge from the Marine Corps and come home and take over the reins of the Bar C. Ray, as I’m sure you know, is an alcoholic. That, in part, caused his stroke at such a young age. It left him incapacitated and in a nursing home afterward. Shay is the legal owner of the ranch, which was passed down to her from her mother’s side of the family.”
“Oh, wow,” Tara said, stunned. “I didn’t know any of this!”
“Yes,” Charlie said, grave. “Shay’s been home nearly two years now, and she’s taken a broken-down ranch and is slowly pushing it from the red to the black column, financially speaking. It was hemorrhaging red while you were gone. Ray lost all his grass pasture leases, which had given him a lot of working capital, due to his alcoholism. Shay walked into a disaster and was two months away from foreclosure at the hands of Marston, the local banker, when she took over for her father.” Disgust filled Charlie’s voice. “Marston was waiting for the Bar C to fail. He had a multimillion-dollar condo deal with a New York realtor who was gonna turn the ranch into nothing but condo rentals for tourists.”
“Oh, no,” Tara whispered, her eyes widening. “That’s horrible!”
“Really. We like our tight little community. No one wants to see condos and realtors like that around. But we’re a valley that is sliding into economic oblivion, too. So, from Marston’s perspective, condos would bring fresh money into our valley, which we desperately need.”
“I know everyone drives through here to get to the Grand Tetons National Park near Jackson Hole,” Tara grumbled. “Or drives fifty miles further north to reach Yellowstone National Park.”
“Well, Maud and Steve Whitcomb, who own the largest ranch in the valley, are working to turn our economy around here in Lincoln County. They’ve got a lot of new projects underway to invite the tourists driving through to stay and play with us on their way to the Tetons or Yellowstone.”
“That’s good to hear, because we need jobs.”
“Yep, and I’d like to make a call to Shay on your behalf. She’s married now, you know? An hombre who’s an ex-Marine Corps captain by the name of Reese Lockhart. Stand-up man. Together, they’re working hard to bring the Bar C back to life and out of foreclosure jeopardy, but it’s a fragile state they’re in right now. Shay, when she took over running the Bar C, wanted to hire military vets like herself. She saw firsthand how vets with PTSD and wounds, either seen or unseen, need a hand up. All her wranglers, some men, some women, are vets. And they’re all doing well.”
“That’s wonderful,” Tara said softly. “I lost touch with Shay when we both went into the Corps. It’s nice to hear she’s married and happy.”
“Well, her father is a huge burr under everyone’s saddle over there at the Bar C. He’s trying right now to get well enough to legally take her to court to sue her and get the ranch back.” Charlie frowned. “It’s a real bad scene, and something that’s ongoing. They just put out a restraining order on Ray to stop him from ever stepping foot back on the Bar C again.”
Tara knew a lot about the workings of the law because of her father. “That’s pretty serious, a restraining order.”
“Yes.” Charlie sighed. “It is. Terrible, ongoing stress for Shay, especially. That’s her father. But that aside? I know they’re looking for another military vet to fill an opening at the Bar C. Might you be interested in working over there?”
“Sure,” she said quickly, hope suddenly filling her. “What do I need to do?”
“Well, Shay and Reese are coming into town tomorrow at noon to pick up a big order of grain for their horses.” He grabbed his cell phone. “How about I call them? Tell them you’re back and looking for work? Maybe they can have lunch with you at Kassie’s Café in town. It would be a good way for you to catch up with Shay, talk with her and see if you’re a fit for her ranch. Does that sound good?”
Did it ever! Tara tried to tamp down her wild hope that this sounded like the perfect job for her. “It sure does, Charlie.”
“Just give me your phone number, okay? I’ll call Shay right after I get done putting my receipts in my accounting book here. I’ll let you know if it’s a go or not. You’re staying with your parents at their ranch, yes?”
“Yes,” she said, barely able to tamp down her need for a job. “That would be wonderful, Charlie. Thanks so much.” She reached out, gripping his long, work-worn hand, squeezing it warmly. “I appreciate your help.”
Giving her a wink, he said, “The people of our valley are tighter than thieves and we always try to support one another where and when we can. I’ll give you a call in about an hour. I’m pretty sure Shay will be more than open to having you apply for that wrangler job at the Bar C, so keep your hopes up.”
* * *
Tara hugged Shay hello when they met just inside the door of Kassie’s Café. The place was filling up fast with lunch patrons.
“It is so good to see you again!” Shay said, grinning happily. “I’d just heard from Garret, who works for us, that you were back in town. I’ve been meaning to call you, but I didn’t have your cell number.” She gave her a silly look, releasing her hands. “And stupid me? I should have thought and called your mom and dad at your ranch. I knew you’d be there.”
Tara smiled and gestured to a table in the back near the kitchen. “Don’t worry, you are just a little busy out at the Bar C, from what Charlie said. Come on, let’s sit down in a quieter corner.”
Shay pulled off her bright red wool jacket, tucking it over her arm. Everyone knew everyone else. Kassie’s was the town’s center, not the city hall or sheriff’s office down the street. She said hello to many of the patrons as she passed near their tables, smiling.
Tara tried to appear relaxed, but she was anything but. Sitting with her back to the wall, she pulled out the other chair that was nearest the wall. Assuming that Shay had probably seen combat, neither of them would be comfortable with their backs to doors or windows. Shay gave her a grateful look.
“You know we’re the same when it comes to being exposed,” Shay said, gesturing toward the plate-glass window. She sat down after hanging her jacket over the back of her chair.
Placing her down jacket aside, Tara said, “Are we that obvious?” and she laughed a little.
A waitress came over, offering glasses of water and the menu. Tara thanked her.
Shay gripped her hand. “It’s so good to see you again, Tara! We lost touch with one another. I gave a yelp of happiness when Garret came in to fix our Sunday afternoon dinner for everyone. He’s ex–black ops, so he’s always got his ear to the ground when he comes into town. I couldn’t believe it! You were in for twenty in the Corps. What happened?”
“Let’s just say, because I’m black ops, too, that I couldn’t take it anymore.” Tara wasn’t going to lie to Shay, because if she got the job, she wanted to earn it fair and square. Setting the menu down, she said, “Where’s your husband? Reese? Charlie said you are happily married.”
“Oh, I am! Reese is just wonderful! He’s over at Charlie’s helping to load our truck with about fifteen hundred pounds of grain sacks. He and Harper, one of our wranglers, will then drive it back to our ranch.”
“But, I thought he’d be here for lunch,” Tara said. Or did Shay make decisions such as hiring? She saw the gleam in Shay’s eyes.
“I packed Reese and Harper a lunch this morning. They’ll have beef sandwiches and chips on the way home. No worries.”
“I was hoping to meet him.”
Shay pulled out her cell phone and showed a photo of Reese to her. “He’s a real hero and I know you’ll like him, too.”
“What a good-looking guy,” Tara said sincerely, handing her back the cell phone. “Remember when we were in the fifth grade? We’d go ride horses together at your or my parents’ ranch? And we’d wonder what kind of boy we’d fall in love with?”
“Oh, that! Gosh, yes, I remember those fun times. But we were so young, so starry-eyed, and we didn’t really know anything of the world yet. I remember I wanted a Sir Galahad kind of guy and you wanted a King Arthur kind of guy.”
Giggling, Tara nodded. “We were way too young and knew nothing !”
The waitress came over, they gave her their orders, and she poured coffee into the thick white ceramic mugs. Picking up the menus, she hurriedly left, the place packed with lunchtime patrons.
“You said you have PTSD?” Shay asked quietly.
“Yes. When I became a combat camerawoman in that MOS for the Corps, the captain of my unit asked if I wanted to work with special ops. I jumped at it because the Corps is still trying to figure out if women can handle combat or not.”
Snorting, Shay said, “Yeah, I know. They are so Neanderthal. Women handle it as well as any male Marine does. No more, no less.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I couldn’t re-up after going black ops. I’d had enough, emotionally speaking.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine what you saw through your lens,” Shay said, giving her an understanding look. “But let’s talk about something good.”
“I’m more than ready for that.”
“Good, because when Charlie called me, I was at my wit’s end. I’d lain awake half the night, anxious and needing another wrangler. Reese told me not to worry, that the right person would show up.” Her eyes sparkled with humor. “And then Charlie calls us, telling us about you.”
A little relief trickled through Tara. She gripped the coffee mug a little less tensely between her hands. “He said he thought you needed another wrangler.”
“Yes. And you need to know that we have two women vet wranglers we’ve already hired: Kira and Dair. They’re doing a great job. They’re just as good as any of the male vets we hired. Let me tell you what we need, Tara, and then you can tell me if it’s a fit or not.”
“Sure,” she murmured, more hope in her tone.
“We need a full-time wrangler. But we also need our vets to have an outside source of income. For example, Kira is a translator and earns money doing Arabic-English translations. Garret is a heavy equipment operator. Harper is presently going to college to become a paramedic, and he takes care of our horse barn. We rent horses, stable other people’s horses, as well as selling to the public. He’s especially good with our broodmares. Reese has a CPA, and when he first came here, he was the ranch’s accountant. He also took on jobs as an accountant for several businesses in Wind River. Noah was training horses before he went into the Army. Now, he has a huge training program, and Dair Wilson is his assistant trainer. Everyone contributes through their other skill sets, putting twenty percent of their earnings into the ranch kitty, because we don’t charge rent to stay at one of our homes on the property. We pay the utilities, you don’t. All you supply is food to eat.”
“Gosh, that’s an easy one for me, Shay. I’m a professional photographer. I already have a website, and I sell my pictures to stock-photos sites. I make a reasonable amount monthly, and I could contribute in that way.”
“Sounds good to me. We’ll pay you an hourly wage as a wrangler. We put ten percent of that into a savings account for you, so that you can build equity and someday be able to afford your own home, if you want. Or buy something you really want.”
“I like that idea. But I saved a lot of my monthly paycheck when I was in the Corps. I have my money in the stock market because of my dad and his broker.” She crossed her fingers. “So long as we don’t have another crash like we did in 2008, I am pretty well off, economically speaking.”
“Which is unlike everyone else who works here, including me and this ranch.”
“I’m using some of it to build the website, plus it costs money to drive to places to take photos. I have to buy new equipment now that the Marine Corps no longer lets me use theirs.” She smiled.
“We have four homes on the ranch, two bedrooms each. Two are filled with wranglers. The fourth one was where my father lived until we permanently kicked him off the property. We’re in a legal battle with him because he wants to return to that house, saying it’s his. I can’t assign it to you under the circumstances.” She opened her hands. “The only other house available is where Harper Sutton lives. He was a Navy combat medic.”
“It wouldn’t bother me to bunk in with him. We’ll each have our own bedroom, I’m assuming. And we’ll probably share cooking and cleaning duties?”
“Yes, everyone else does in the home they’re assigned to. You two can work that out between you.”
“What’s Harper like?” Tara saw Shay’s face melt.
“He’s such a sweetie. He’s quiet, gentle, and gets your trust immediately. He was the perfect medic.”
“Especially if you’re bleeding out,” Tara said, smiling faintly. “Yes, I was with mostly Delta 18 combat medics on the team I was with. They are the best of the best.”
“They sure are. But you know the medic type?”
“All quiet, like shadows, speak softly, get your trust even if you’re hysterical because you’re bleeding and you know you’re dying.”
“Yep. That’s why Harper is so good with our broodmares and foals. He’s got that special touch of a healer.”
“He sounds nice.”
“He is. But don’t let his type B appearance fool you,” Shay warned. “He was in black ops, too. He was always in the thick of danger and you know you have to be a type A to do that kind of job.”
“No disagreement. The medics I ran with appeared to be type B’s, but in reality? They were ball-busting type A’s beneath that veneer. I suspect Harper is too?”
“Well,” Shay said, as the waitress brought them their food, “I’ve yet to see his type A side, but I know it’s there.”
“If he’s working with broodmares and foals, he can’t show that aggressive side of himself. Horses wouldn’t work with him.”
“Right you are,” Shay agreed. “Here’s our lunch.”
Midway through the lunch, Shay turned serious once more. “Why aren’t you working on your parents’ ranch?”
In as few words as she could, Tara told her what she’d told Charlie the day before. She saw Shay’s features reflect understanding when she finished her explanation.
“But are Scott and Joanna okay with it?”
Shrugging, Tara offered, “Well, not at first, but the more I explained, the more they accepted my situation. It’s not like I’m leaving town or anything. My mom was happy when I told her that every once in a while, I’d drop in for dinner and see how they are, plus we’ll always have cell phones and emails. And I’ll continue to help fill in for her at the hardware store when she needs me. They’re okay with it now, but you know that civilians who haven’t been in combat just can’t understand where we’re at. It’s not their fault. They don’t know.”
“There are days, even now, when I feel like I’m going to tear out of my skin,” Shay admitted between bites of her ham and Swiss cheese sandwich. “Fortunately, Reese does understand.”
“Because he’s a vet who’s seen combat, too. So he knows. My parents are trying to understand, but they can only go so far to grasp it.”
“You have to have lived it,” Shay agreed grimly, “to know.”
“Yeah.” Tara sighed.
“You probably don’t want to discuss this, but I have to bring it up. I remember when Cree Elson kidnapped you when you were sixteen.”
Rolling her eyes, Tara said, “Believe me, I’ve never forgotten it. Do you know, Shay, I still get nightmares about that time? About him?” She shivered.
“I heard he’s out of prison now and working in Jackson Hole doing odd jobs.”
Stomach knotting, Tara said, “My dad told me when I got home.”
“That’s fifty miles away from us. But you know his mother, Roberta, still lives here, same place, same dumpy trailer on that fifty-acre ranch on the slope of the Salt River mountains. His three brothers and his sister—Hiram is 31 now, Kaen is 29, Cree is 27, and Elisha is 24—they all live at the southern end of the valley and they’re all up to their hocks in the drug trade. While you were in the service, did your parents keep you updated on the Elson clan?”
Shaking her head, Tara muttered, “I told them I didn’t want to know anything about that dysfunctional family. I wanted to leave them behind me once I left.”
“Not much has changed except that your dad sent Hiram and Kaen to prison for three years apiece for drug smuggling,” Shay told her. “They just got out a couple years ago, came home, and now they’re back doing the same thing. Sheriff Sarah Carson has someone undercover trying to get into their ring to prove they’re at it again. That toxic family has never changed. They’re just as violent and unpredictable as Cree is. Only he never got into selling drugs as much as using them.”
Her hope withered. “One of the reasons I joined the Marine Corps was to get strong and be able to fight off a man like Elson. I never want to be a wimpy, helpless, freaked-out girl again like I was back at that age.”
“I know. I joined the Corps to escape my alcoholic father. You ran away to leave that kidnapping behind you.”
“We both ran,” Tara admitted, frowning.
“Did you know Cree was out?”
“Only after I got home. I’m still in my PTSD soup, and he wasn’t on my radar at all. I’m having enough trouble trying to appear normal to everyone.”
