The Cowboy's Valentine Bride Page 7

  “Sorry,” Kaitlyn said. “Bad timing, I guess.”

  “It’s okay,” Mrs. Mason said. “Go on through.”

  Kaitlyn hung her coat on a hook and headed toward the next room. Their quiet voices started up behind her once she’d entered the sitting room, and she saw Brody standing by the front window, staring out at the yard. If it weren’t for the army buzz cut and the crutches leaning against the window frame, it would be like no time had passed at all, and seeing him just standing there made her heart squeeze almost painfully.

  She’d missed him...so much more than she’d ever let herself admit to. She’d spent the last year telling herself that Brody was Nina’s fiancé, and she needed to keep her emotional distance. Then she’d spent the last couple of months trying to find ways to protect Brody from her sister’s choices, and that had a way of tying up her emotions, too. So now that he was home and her job was so much smaller—just his medical care—all those feelings she’d been holding back and deflecting came in a flood.

  But Nina had been his first choice, and if she’d stayed true, they’d be getting married in the next few weeks. She needed to hold on to that, because it was a fact.

  Kaitlyn had just had a rather tense phone conversation with her sister. Kaitlyn had called to ask about her pregnancy, and Nina had responded the exact way Kaitlyn expected: she’d been overjoyed that she could finally talk about it, and she’d gushed about her cravings for KFC and talked about how fun it was to finally shop for maternity wear. Nina was pregnant, and Kaitlyn didn’t begrudge her relishing this, but Nina hadn’t seemed to save a thought for what was happening back in Hope.

  And even more frustrating were Kaitlyn’s own feelings—she was going to be an aunt! Nina would have a baby, and Kaitlyn would have a little niece or nephew to love and cuddle. Her loyalties were certainly divided, but babies were blessings, no matter how complicated their conceptions.

  Kaitlyn crossed the room and stood next to Brody, staring out into the dusky front yard. A bare tree stood in contrast to the twilit sky—not dark enough for stars—and the horizon was still glowing red from the sunset, spilling pink light over the snow-laden ground.

  “Everything okay?” Kaitlyn asked.

  “Fine.”

  She highly doubted that, but she also didn’t want to pry any further into family issues. She had enough of her own right now. Nina was asking Kaitlyn about baby names and if she wanted to be in the delivery room...something she’d never expected. She and Nina had never been terribly close, but this pregnancy seemed to change things between them. Nina seemed to need Kaitlyn in a whole new way, and that softened Kaitlyn, too.

  “This is probably terrible timing,” Kaitlyn said, “but I can’t think of a good time to say this.”

  “Oh?” He looked down at her warily. “What is it now?”

  “I talked to Nina today, told her that you’d told me about her pregnancy.” She crossed her arms in a protective reflex. “She and Brian are planning on coming for our fathers’ birthday party. Since the news is out in the open.”

  “We can celebrate all of it.” Brody’s voice sounded hollow. “Birthdays, a wedding, a baby...”

  “I thought I’d give you some fair warning.”

  “Hmm.” Brody was silent for several beats, and he turned his attention back out the window. “It’s just as well, I guess.”

  His reaction surprised her. She’d have thought that Nina coming for a victory lap would have been uncomfortable at the very least, but Brody appeared oddly relaxed.

  Kaitlyn swallowed. “Really?”

  “It is what it is, Kate.” He turned from the window and hobbled toward the chair next to the fireplace. “Besides, I have a bone to pick with Brian.”

  “Not Nina?” Kaitlyn asked. She wasn’t too worried about Nina. She was more worried about her sister doing further damage. But his original shock from the news seemed to have worn off. Brody shot her a wry smile as he lowered himself into the chair.

  “Like you said before, I probably should have seen this coming with Nina. Brian, on the other hand—”

  He didn’t finish the statement, and he didn’t need to. He had more relationships to sort out than his cancelled engagement, but her mind went back to that look of steel she’d seen earlier and she eyed him speculatively.

  “Are you angry?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He sighed. “And I know what you’re thinking. Brian is perfectly safe with me.”

  “It had crossed my mind.” She was silent for a moment, unsure if she was overstepping by asking anything further, but she decided to risk it. “That ranch hand—”

  “Nick.” Brody nodded. “My dad is letting him go in the morning. No need to worry about him.”

  “I was less worried about him than about you,” she replied.

  “Me?” The look that crossed his face was both surprised and mildly hurt.

  “I’m really glad you stepped in,” she said, pulling her hair away from her face. “And thank you for that. But, you...” She sucked in a breath, searching for the right words. “You changed.”

  “How?”

  “You looked so much harder, less like you. You went from good old Brody to this steely stranger. I honestly didn’t know what you were going to do.”

  “That’s the training.” He shrugged apologetically. “Sorry if I scared you.”

  He had scared her, but at the same time, she knew his instincts had been piqued out of a sense of protectiveness. One thing was certain, that ranch hand would never come near her again. Ironically enough, that was something that hadn’t changed a bit—Brody’s protective instinct toward her.

  “You always did stick up for me. Now you’re just...more lethal.”

  Brody laughed at her dry joke and leaned his head back in the chair. The smile slowly slid from his face, and he turned his dark gaze onto her.

  “I will never hurt you,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”

  She nodded, a lump rising in her throat. “I know.”

  “That was to protect you, Kate. You’re safe with me.”

  All but her heart. He was so strong and capable, so sad and broken, all at once. He was the kind of man Kaitlyn could love for a lifetime, and if she weren’t careful, she would...a lifetime of loving him from afar. That would be hell on earth. Brody leaned forward toward the fire once more.

  “You know what I want, more than anything else right now?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “I want to ride Champ at full gallop and just go and go and go...” He heaved a sigh. “You know that feeling? Wind chapping your face, hands cold on the reins, but the sky is just so big and the sun sparkles on the snow... That’s how I’ve always taken care of the things I can’t control—on horseback. But I can’t ride. I can’t even walk without crutches.”

  “For now,” she said quietly.

  “I can’t fix any of this, Kate.” Emotion choked off his voice, and he looked away. After a moment he continued, “But if I could ride...”

  It was the cowboy in him, the guy who connected to the land and his horse and the sky. It was the part of him that had put down roots into this very land, the part that had stayed here in spirit no matter how far away he’d roamed. She understood that impulse better than anyone, and she reached out and took his broad, warm hand in hers.

  “You’ll ride again, Brody,” she said firmly. “I promise.”

  Because from the look in his eyes, if he couldn’t ride, they’d most certainly lose him.

  Chapter Six

  Brody woke early the next morning. The sky was still dark and the house was silent. His parents had already left for chores an hour ago. He’d heard them shuffle about, their low voices filtering through the wall as they tossed back a mug of coffee, pushed their feet into gum boots a
nd headed out. There was something about being back in this familiar house that reset his body to the old alarm clock.

  Brody lay there in bed, awake, for what felt like an eternity, but turned out to be a little less than an hour. He didn’t want to sleep again. The dreams had been too vivid to properly shake, so he tried to think about something else—anything else, really—and he came up with Kaitlyn’s words the night before... Nina and Brian were coming for the party.

  He’d brushed it off earlier, because he’d figured having a chance to have it out with Brian would feel cathartic, but this morning he dug a little deeper and wondered what it would be like to see them together.

  Nina was notably absent upon his return, so he hadn’t been faced with Nina’s new life. Instead, he’d been faced with Kaitlyn, and at the moment, he found her more disconcerting. She was no longer the mousy, girlish student. She was now every inch a woman, and he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what had changed, but something most definitely had.

  Brody swung his legs over the edge of the bed and realized that his wounded leg ached less than it had before. His crutches leaned against the wall next to him, and he reached for them, then stopped short.

  “No,” he said aloud.

  If he wanted to ride, he couldn’t be hobbling around on crutches. He needed to be able to walk on his own, and if he didn’t push through the pain, it wasn’t going to happen.

  Brody’s grandfather had been in the army, too, and he was the reason Brody had been so enthralled with all things military. Granddad was a lot like Ken Mason—tough and serious—except he wasn’t half so stubborn as Brody’s father. He could reconsider his position, admit to being wrong. Ken Mason didn’t flex. So while Brody and his father butted heads, Granddad told stories about battles and buddies, and gave Brody an escape. Every year on Memorial Day, Granddad stood tall and proud and saluted the flag. Until the year he had his stroke and ended up in a wheelchair, trying to learn how to bring a spoon to his mouth all over again. Brody had been fourteen.

  That year, the President of the United States came to the local Memorial Day celebrations. It was close to an election, and the president had made an unplanned stop in their little unknown town. When the president made a short speech thanking the men who gave their all, and the men who served, everyone stood and saluted, including Brody. But then, he noticed Granddad pushing himself forward in his chair.

  “Granddad, it’s okay,” Brody had said, thinking that the old man was confused, but he brushed Brody off and struggled to his feet.

  His granddad had wavered there, a tremulous hand raised to his temple in a salute.

  The president stopped and said a few words to Granddad on his way back to the bulletproof bus, and Brody saw tears moisten the old man’s eyes.

  “What did he say?” Brody asked, once the president had gone.

  “He thanked me for my service,” Granddad replied with a nod. “And he said I didn’t need to stand to salute him. I said I sure did. He’s my commander in chief.”

  If Granddad could rise out of that chair to salute, then Brody could stand up on his own two feet and walk to the fence and back. Or the barn. Or the road... It was going to hurt—that was a guarantee—but if he wanted to be more than this injury, he’d have to push past it.

  Brody rose to his feet and stood there for a few beats.

  “I can do this,” he muttered to himself, and an image came to his mind of Kaitlyn’s upturned face. For once he’d like to see her expression mirror back something other than concern. He might be wounded, but that didn’t make him any less of a man. Once—just once—he wanted to look down into those chocolate brown eyes and see her respond to him like the man he was.

  A good part of him was doing this for her—for that moment when he could stop being her patient and start being... He didn’t even know. That was going too far. At the very least he’d like to be a valid threat to her peace of mind, and not because of his relationship to her sister, either.

  Getting dressed was easier this morning. As he pulled on his shirt, he stared at the tattered Valentine for several seconds before he scooped it up and tucked it into his pocket. It had been there for the last year, and home or not, he couldn’t quite let go of that tradition. Good luck, the guys called it. Maybe it was, because somehow that scrap of paper made him feel stronger.

  He hobbled into the kitchen and decided not to stop for food or coffee. He couldn’t lose his momentum. He pulled on his fleece-lined jacket and dropped his beaten cowboy hat onto his head, and it felt right.

  “To the fence.”

  The three steps didn’t pose as much of a problem as they had earlier, and he realized with a rush of optimism that he was healing. His leg itched now, and while he doubted that he’d ever get away from the ache entirely, he knew it was a good sign.

  He’d feel better still when he was slinging bales of hay and saddling up his horse, but he’d take what he could get, and this felt pretty good. Was he really thinking about farm work instead of army training? He’d have to think about it all more seriously once his body was back into shape.

  The morning sunlight filtered across the rolling snow-clad fields. He took a few steps, his gait halting, and then he sucked in a chestful of crisp air and purposely put more weight onto the bad leg.

  He suppressed a moan as the pain shot through his thigh, and he stood there for a moment, regaining his sense of balance as his head swam.

  “To the fence,” he reminded himself firmly.

  The fence he’d set as a goal was across the back lawn, separating field from house. The field was covered in a white mantle, some tufts of tough grass sticking up from the snow cover, jutting out in silent rebellion. A swarm of sparrows lifted like a flapping sheet from a copse of bare trees, circled, then came back to settle again on the same limbs.

  Across the field and down a gully, he could make out a pickup truck heading into a field, bales of hay loaded into the bed. They’d be filling feeders. As the temperature dropped, the cattle would eat more to maintain their body heat and adjust their metabolism.

  Every winter when they were kids, Brian had come to Brody’s place for a sleepover. Brian was a town kid, so the idea of ranch chores was exciting to him. They’d ridden in the back of his dad’s pickup truck at dawn and helped toss hay out to the cows, and Brian thought it was the best thing ever. Brody smiled at the memory, then pushed it back. That was a long time ago—back when Brian was a trusted friend...and before Brody had started dreaming of a life away from this place.

  But once he did get away, he started longing for this ranch, picturing mornings just like this one...except he’d be the one hauling hay. Like the sparrows that rose up in a swarm only to settle onto the same branches once more. Except now that he was back, he wondered if he could stay.

  Was it possible to fit into his life here in Hope again? Maybe it would be different with their father. Dakota seemed pretty convinced that their dad had softened since his injury, and while he’d backed down when it came to firing Nick Sutton, he hadn’t turned into a kitten, either.

  Brody walked steadily forward, his leg cramping with the effort, but he wouldn’t pause. Whether he could make a life here on the ranch or whether he’d go back to the army, he wasn’t sure. But the one thing he knew, he wouldn’t be spending his life on crutches. Whichever way he went, he’d be doing it on his own two feet.

  An engine rumbled in the driveway, and he glanced back to see Kaitlyn’s truck come to a stop next to the house. The fence was close, and he turned back toward his goal. His leg ached so badly that it felt like lava was crawling up toward his groin. Three more steps. Two more...okay, maybe another two more...

  And then he put out his hand and slapped the wooden rung.

  “To the fence,” he muttered in victory.

  He’d done it. He’d walked to the fence without crutches, and h
e leaned against the sturdy rails, breathing heavily.

  “Brody?” Kaitlyn’s voice rang out in the morning air, and he lifted his head. She was standing beside her truck, hands on her hips. Her glossy hair whipped away from her face in a rising wind, and she raised a hand to her eyes, shading her face against the slant of the sunlight.

  Was she ever beautiful.

  “Hey!” he called. “Thought I’d come out for a walk.”

  She said something that didn’t carry, but it sounded like a curse and he laughed softly. He must be feeling better, because ticking her off was proving to be a lot of fun. He’d have to find new and creative ways to do more of that. When she was irritated, she looked like she wanted to smack him, and nurses didn’t smack patients. At least they weren’t supposed to. And more to the point, women didn’t slap men they pitied. It was a step in the right direction.

  Kaitlyn headed across the grass to meet him.

  * * *

  KAITLYN WAS IMPRESSED by the distance Brody had travelled without his crutches. He stood out there by the fence, cowboy hat pushed back while he leaned his forearms against the top rail, face bathed in early morning sunlight. His breath hung in the cold air.

  He looked like the old Brody standing there, and her heart filled with sad longing. How many times had she seen Brody looking just like this? He was strong, handsome, rugged...and unavailable. How many times had she reminded herself of that?

  But still—walking around the yard on his own was a risk in itself. He should have waited for her. How on earth had he managed the steps outside the house alone? If he fell right now—a distinct possibility given the ice and snow—he could possibly tear open the newly healed flesh and set himself back weeks in recovery. As scary as that possibility was, it was easier to think of things as a nurse—she felt more in control of her own feelings when she focused on her profession.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked as she reached him.