Chapter Two
Gabe woke to the whir of the bunkhouse heater and the thin gray light of a Wyoming morning.
The familiarity of it flooded in, thickening his throat before his mind fully registered where he was.
He lay in bed for a beat, taking note of the simple things.
The weight of the clean quilt, the smell of dust and cedar lining the walls and the faint rattle of someone in the far pasture.
Probably Willow Malone, caring for the horses.
His body felt…quiet. Not good exactly, but settled. Like he’d been spinning a long time and the needle finally found north.
He rolled out of the narrow bed and scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. His head still felt full of noise from the drive, but his body had finally shut down for a few hours. One blanket, one pillow, one night without nightmares. He’d take it.
Then he pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a fresh flannel shirt from his go-bag.
Years of military life had trained him to always have a kit ready to roll out any time.
He had three shirts, three pair of socks and three pairs of boxers, a toothbrush and a few travel-sized toiletries in a zip pouch. What more did he need?
When he stepped out of the bunkhouse, the air bit at his lungs, crisp and thin. He breathed it in until the tightness he carried in his chest everywhere he went loosened a notch. The ranch spread out, frosty and gold surrounded by a grid of black fence rails.
A feed bucket clanged near the main barn. Then came the creak of the gate. Even the sounds of the ranch brought a different brand of peace.
Gabe walked toward the main house, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The porch steps still had a thin coat of ice, and his boots gritted over it. As he approached the big wooden door, his steps slowed.
Back when he was part of the therapy program, he steered clear of the house.
It wasn’t that the Malone family would ever turn away the vets—totally the opposite.
But he never needed to knock on that door, since he could usually find one of the family members out working on the ranch if he had a question or request.
He stared at the door, unable to force himself to knock. It was early. The last thing he wanted to do was wake the sleeping household.
He swung away, right as the door cracked open behind him.
“Gabe.”
He slowly turned back. Carson stepped out, the mug of coffee in his hand steaming and fragrant. Gabe’s stomach rumbled.
“Morning. You sleep?” Carson looked like he’d already been up for hours.
“Yeah. I appreciate the place to crash.”
Carson nodded once. “You’re always welcome here. Figured if you showed up after dark, there was a reason.”
Gabe’s lips tightened. “I took a drive. I didn’t plan where I was going. Just…ended up here. I’m sorry I woke you.”
Carson took a long drink of coffee, then lowered the mug. “I was up most of the night with the baby.”
The baby. God, he’d been away a long time. Carson and Layne had their child. When he left the Black Heart, news of the newlyweds’ growing family had only been a passing conversation in the dining hall. Now it was a whole child.
“Congrats. Boy or girl?”
His face split into a grin. “Boy. Carson Jr. We call him CJ.”
“Damn. That’s awesome.” He held out a hand for Carson to shake, and he clasped it warmly.
“When you buzzed the gate, I figured you needed to be here.”
Be here. The words hung between them, full of meaning. Carson was asking if he’d cracked up again without outright asking him.
Gabe wasn’t too sure of the answer, so he pulled in a deep drag of mountain air and glanced around. “Okay if I stay a little bit?”
Carson didn’t bat an eye at the request, as if vets turned up on his porch every week. “I can use the help. The rest of the Black Heart Security team is on a job in California.”
“I can help anywhere you need me. I’m happy to work.”
“Good. Let me get this first pot of coffee in me and I’ll give you some direction. Meanwhile, you know the way to the dining hall. Grab yourself some breakfast.”
His stomach rumbled again at the thought of the good food they all enjoyed from the best chef the program could find. Gabe dreamed about Chef’s pulled pork sandwiches ever since leaving.
He started to turn away, but stopped. “Mind if I look in on the horses?”
Carson twitched his jaw toward the barn. “Didn’t imagine you’d start anywhere else. Think you might find a friend out there too.”
Gabe gave him a nod of farewell and headed down the steps, crossing the yard in loping strides with no reason to hurry. Working in his brother-in-law’s garage hadn’t come with a lot of pressure, but it had a different rhythm than the Black Heart. Things moved on country time around here.
Thoughts of the garage brought thoughts of his sister, which ended in a fog of guilt. He’d promised to call her when he reached a destination.
His legs carried him toward the pasture and he fixed his gaze on the mountain peak slicing into the pale gray sky when he brought the phone to his ear.
“Gabe?” Her voice came out fast, worried. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” He pushed away the extra twinge of guilt at causing her worry. “Just wanted to let you know I won’t be back for a while.”
There was a pause. “Where are you?”
“At the ranch. The Black Heart.”
“Oh, Gabe.”
Hearing that tone in her voice, he could almost see the shimmer of sadness in Lu’s eyes. She wanted him to be whole. But he wasn’t exactly broken.
“Carson needs an extra hand with the others gone.” His way of telling her he hadn’t checked himself into the program again. He wasn’t that far gone. He was just…aimless.
“I see.” There was that small silence again, the kind that filled up with unspoken things.
He exhaled through his nose. “I knew Jeremy could handle the garage without me.”
Another beat stretched between them. Then she said softly, “I figured this might happen. You’ve never been good at sitting still when you don’t feel right.”
“Guess not.”
“You have what you need?”
“I do.” He shifted his weight, glancing toward the barn, eager to smell the hay and the scent of animals. “Had my go-bag in the truck. Three outfits. Toiletries.”
She made a small noise. “Gabe.”
“I’m fine.” His voice came out firmer this time. “I’ve got money. I’ll buy what I need. Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s not really how being your sister works.”
His lips tugged at the corners in a ghost of a smile. “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it.”
She was quiet for another second. “You sound better already.”
He looked out at the deep smoky blue of the mountain plastered in white frost and snow like a dusting of sugar. “I am.”
“Good. Call me when you can.”
“I will. Bye, Lu.” After he ended the call, the silence that followed felt easy instead of empty.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and headed toward the barn. The morning had brightened, the wind carrying the warm, living smell of horses and hay.
The big barn door was open halfway. Sunlight slanted through the dust motes. As soon as he stepped inside, his shoulders slumped. If relief had a sound, it was this. Hoofbeats and the creak of leather and the scrape of a pitchfork somewhere outside.
He moved slowly, murmuring to each horse in turn. They remembered him, welcoming him with flicks of their ears and nickers of greeting. He ran a hand down one’s warm neck, grounded by the texture under his palm.
“Hey, boy,” he sighed. “Good to see you too.”
He started checking water buckets and hay nets. Small tasks that set the old rhythm inside him.
He was halfway down the aisle when a sound cut through the quiet—a light, high laugh carried on the air. He half turned toward the sound.
It couldn’t be.
Then he saw them—his old therapist Rhae, walking toward the door, her hand resting lightly on her daughter Navy’s head.
He stared, mouth open. When he left, Navy had been just a baby, crawling around on the floor and pulling herself up on things while he attended his therapy sessions.
Now she was toddling toward the barn in a bright pink coat and knit hat. He stepped into the aisle.
She spotted him, her eyes going wide. Then she broke into an unsteady run.
The sight of the baby, who all the vets affectionately thought of as a niece or little cousin, hit Gabe like a punch. He rushed forward to swing her up into his arms.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and a laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it.
“Hey, Navy.” His voice was rough, and he didn’t bother to hide it. “Look at you.”
Rhae’s grin was unstoppable as she approached them. “She’s walking now.”
“I see that. And running, apparently.” He smiled at Rhae—a real smile.
“Neigh-neigh!”
Gabe let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s new too. She’s talking a lot more.”
“Don’t we know it.”
Navy squirmed until he set her down, and she took off again in short, determined steps toward the nearest stall, where a chestnut mare poked her head over the gate. The horse lowered her nose until it brushed Navy’s hand, and the little girl let out a delighted giggle.
“She’s got no fear.” Rhae watched her daughter closely. “And she’s obsessed with the horses, just like her Auntie Willow. We have to bring her to the barn every morning or she won’t stop asking to see the neigh-neighs.”
Gabe watched Navy but felt Rhae’s focus shift to him. Questions hovered between them. Why was he here and was he okay?
Navy toddled back to him, and Gabe crouched to take her tiny fingers. “You like the horses, Navy?”
She jabbed a finger toward the mare and let out a high whinny that was such a good mimicry of the horse’s that he and Rhae burst out laughing.
Navy took off again, her little boots thumping the floorboards.
Rhae’s voice came out soft beside him. “She missed you.”
“Missed her too.” He straightened, brushing his palms against his jeans. “Guess I’ll be sticking around a while to help out while the guys are gone.”
She smiled. “Good. We could use you. The ranch feels so empty without Denver and his brothers. Decker, too.”