Heart of a Soldier Read online

  According to Doc, he was the one who did all the hiring at the ranch. He pulled up to the stables and parked his truck alongside a few cars. Knowing he’d come too far to turn back, he unfolded his long legs and exited. The stable door was wide-open, giving him a clear view of two ranch hands who were trying to rein in a bucking miniature horse.

  “Are either of you Malachi Finley?”

  Neither man bothered to look up. One of them gestured outside. “Nope. He’s out in the corral.”

  “Thanks,” Dylan said as he turned on his heel and made his way back outside. If he wasn’t here on such pressing business, he might have been tempted to stay in the stables and watch the struggle between the miniature horse and the ranchers. Something told him that the spirited animal might win the battle. As he stepped out into the sunlight, he had to raise his arm across his face to protect himself from the glare. Because of the rays shining directly in his face, he could make out only two indistinct figures—one astride a horse, the other standing close by. The first thing he noticed was the glint of blond hair shimmering in the sun. Goose bumps broke out on his arms as the realization hit him hard. It was Holly.

  She was seated on an alabaster, medium-size horse. A Native American man, who he assumed to be Malachi, stood by her side, holding the lead rope and directing the horse. Holly’s focus was 100 percent on the task at hand. Her hands were clutching the bridle. She was so focused that she didn’t seem to notice he was thirty feet away, observing her.

  Only a moment ago, he’d deliberated as to whether he should even be at Horseshoe Bend Ranch. But now he was transfixed by the sight of Holly on her horse. She looked scared. Even from where he was standing, way across the yard, he could see the signs of it. Her blue eyes were open wide, and she was blinking, giving her the look of a frightened owl. Seeing her discomfort made him want to do something—anything—to help her. It made him want to jump the fence and ride to her rescue. Malachi was being gentle with her. Maybe he was going too easy on her, he realized. No doubt he was well-meaning, but Holly wasn’t making any progress. She resembled a statue perched on a horse. Her head was moving back and forth, as if she was arguing with Malachi. Not a single thing about her indicated she was happy or feeling joyful. Hadn’t Holly written to him about her love of horses? Shouldn’t she at least be smiling?

  “Holly, you can’t show him you’re scared. If he senses it, it’ll spook him,” he called out. None of this was his business, but he couldn’t just sit back and watch her fall apart.

  She glanced in his direction, her eyes opening even wider as soon as she spotted him. Wobbling a little in her seat, she let out cry of alarm. Malachi steadied her, and for the first time, he could see the special saddle she was using. There was a belt attached to the saddle that was looped around her waist, as well as a padded back to the saddle. Between Malachi and the saddle, there really hadn’t been any real danger of her falling. But, as he well knew, fear lived in one’s mind.

  “Spook him? I’m the one whose hands are trembling. He’s got the easy part,” she yelled back.

  “Malachi, do you mind if I come inside?” he called out. He didn’t want to step on his toes, but helping Holly feel at ease was his primary concern. He watched as Malachi looked up at Holly, his dark eyes questioning her. Holly gave him a quick nod. Malachi gestured him in.

  Dylan entered the arena, his movements calm and easy. The last thing he wanted to do was startle Holly’s horse. At the moment, both rider and horse seemed unsettled. When he edged closer, he was able to see the elastic bands attached to the stirrup. He imagined they were being used to stabilize her feet. As soon as he reached her side, he was able to read the saying on her shirt—I’m Paralyzed. There’s Nothing Wrong With My Hearing. The corners of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t want Holly to see his amusement. She needed to dig down deep and take control of the situation. There was no time for distractions.

  Without saying a word, Malachi moved a few steps away and folded his arms across his chest. It was clear to Dylan that he wanted to be close enough where he could still keep an eye on the situation. He didn’t blame him. As far as Malachi was concerned, he was a stranger. There hadn’t even been time to introduce himself. What would he have said anyway? “Hi, I’m Dylan, Holly’s pen pal from Afghanistan”? Something told him Malachi wasn’t big on chitchat.

  Dylan looked up at Holly, immediately noticing the tension lines creasing her pretty features. Resisting the impulse to smooth away those crinkles, he tried to assess the situation. He didn’t know whether this was her fourth time back in the saddle or her fortieth. At the Bar M, he’d worked with plenty of disabled riders, most of whom were missing limbs or suffering from war injuries. They called it therapeutic riding.

  Because of his experience in Afghanistan, he knew what fear looked like, up close and personal. At the moment, anxiety held Holly firmly in its grip.

  “Sometimes life’s not easy.” He threw the words out like a challenge, wanting to remind Holly of everything she was too scared to see right now. She’d written those words to him when he’d been full of despair and dejected, having been inundated with bad news about failed missions, roadside bombs and fallen soldiers. Holly and her sweet, spirited letters always served as a shining beacon of hope in the darkness. Now, in some small way, he wanted to give back to her a little bit of inspiration.

  “Hey, it’s not fair to use my own words against me!” she protested. The beginnings of a small smile hovered on her lips.

  Pleasure filled him at the sight of it. She was starting to relax. Her posture didn’t look so rigid anymore, and her features weren’t so strained.

  “What’s your horse’s name? He’s a beauty, that’s for sure.” He reached out and stroked the stallion’s glorious mane. He’d missed being on a ranch—all the sights, smells, sounds and the glorious animals. Being with horses filled a piece of his soul as nothing else could.

  “His name is Sundance. He’s a Camarillo.”

  He let out a low whistle. Camarillo horses, categorized by their pure-white appearance, were a rare breed of horse. Although he knew of their existence, he’d never seen one until now. It shouldn’t surprise him since, according to Doc, Horseshoe Bend Ranch was among the most successful horse-breeding operations in the country. No doubt the Lynches could afford the best horses money could buy.

  She thoughtfully studied him. “What brought you out here today?”

  Dylan met her gaze, startled by the jolt he felt as he looked into her eyes. “Doc convinced me to swing by and see Malachi about a job, since I’m sticking around for a while.” He shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish.

  “Why’d you decide to ride today?” he asked, quickly veering off the topic.

  She shot him a look of frustration. “It’s one of my goals. I’ve been trying to get back into riding for years. Before the accident I rode all the time. Every time I get up here for my lesson, I freeze up.” She pointed her chin in Malachi’s direction. “Every single time. Just ask Malachi.”

  “You’re afraid.” His words were simple and to the point. Even a blind man could sense her fear. It was palpable.

  She vehemently shook her head, blond hair tumbling over her eyes. “I love horses, Dylan. I’m not afraid. I just—”

  Their gazes locked, and he could see stark terror looking back at him. He didn’t want to push her too hard, since she already seemed to be on edge. She looked as if all the steam had left her. He deliberately softened his voice.

  “It’s understandable, you know. You don’t need to feel ashamed about it. Being involved in the accident, not riding for so long... It’s bound to mess with your confidence.” Compassion flared within him. “I know what it feels like. When I became injured, I was laid up in a military hospital for months. By the time they discharged me and I’d redeployed, I was a mess. Physically, I healed.” He tapped two fingers against his temple. “B
ut mentally, I was scared to death of every loud noise and shadow.”

  Holly bit her lip and looked away. “I guess I am a little scared. Not of the horses,” she quickly added. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve done this. Almost a lifetime ago. I just don’t want to fail at it again.”

  “You can do this, Holly,” he said in a firm voice. “I know you can.”

  She studied him for a moment, her eyes roaming over his face. He watched her take a deep breath, then sit up straight in her saddle, shoulders back, her mouth pressed in a thin line. With a simple nod of her head, she let Malachi know she was ready to try again. Soundlessly, Malachi appeared at Sundance’s side, his eyes carefully trained on Holly. Sensing Malachi possessed some special training he didn’t have, Dylan retreated a few steps but still kept his gaze trained on horse and rider.

  In a soothing voice, Holly began talking to Sundance, uttering words he couldn’t hear. She gently grazed her knuckles against his temple. The stallion nickered softly in response. Holly picked up the reins and instructed Sundance to move. The horse obeyed, gracefully moving into a simple trot. Holly patted his side forcefully, urging him to trot a little faster. Dylan held his breath as she cantered around the corral. Although her pace wasn’t fast by any means, it was a clear victory for Holly as she settled into the natural rhythms of riding. Malachi hovered nearby, his eyes trained on both horse and rider, ready to jump in at any moment.

  After twenty minutes or so, Holly began showing signs of fatigue. She slowed Sundance to a halt, then gestured to Malachi, who was at her side in seconds. He watched as they headed toward a ramp and a wheelchair, both set off to the side of the corral. Strangely, in the past half hour, he’d allowed himself to forget about Holly’s disability. All he’d wanted to do was rush in and make things better. But now the reality of her situation hit him squarely in the stomach. Feelings of helplessness washed over him. Fear grabbed him by the throat. As Malachi helped Holly off Sundance, he squared his shoulders and turned away, swallowing hard as memories of his own stint in a wheelchair bombarded him. He fisted his palms, determined not to go into a dark place.

  “Atta girl. I knew you’d get back in the saddle one of these days,” a deep masculine voice rang out as long legs began walking toward them.

  Dylan held his hand up to block out the glare from the sun, catching a glimpse of dark hair and a strong jaw. Holly lit up the moment the tall, broad-shouldered man came into view. He felt a twinge of discomfort, knowing there was someone who could make Holly shine like the sun.

  The dark-haired man stopped midstride, giving him the once-over as he planted himself next to him. Holly adroitly wheeled over to them, making introductions as she reached their side.

  “Tate, this is Dylan Hart. Dylan, this is my brother, Sheriff Tate Lynch.”

  Dylan stuck out his hand, and for a moment, the sheriff seemed to hesitate before putting his hand out and vigorously shaking it. His gold badge glinted in the sun, serving as a reminder that Tate Lynch ran things in West Falls.

  “He’s come to talk to Malachi about a job on the ranch.” She looked toward Malachi, who’d just walked over and joined them. “Malachi, officially meet Dylan.”

  Malachi nodded his head almost imperceptibly in his direction.

  Tate jutted his chin toward him. His blue eyes sized him up, not giving a thing away. “Holly mentioned you have some ranch experience.”

  “Yeah, I spent summers working as a ranch hand at the Bar M Ranch in Madden, Oklahoma. You name it, I did it. Breaking in horses. Wrangling. Roping. Doctoring livestock. Calving. Fence repair.”

  Tate nodded, his eyes alight with interest. “I’ve heard of the Bar M. Nice little operation. I remember meeting the owner a few years back at a cattle auction. McDermott, isn’t it?”

  Dylan tensed up the moment at the mention of his father’s name. He allowed himself to relax. It wasn’t as if anyone would ever guess the connection. “Yes, that’s right. R. J. McDermott. I cut my teeth there and learned a lot.”

  “He’s got a nice way with horses,” Malachi added. “I’d say he knows his way around a ranch.” Dylan blinked in surprise. Malachi hadn’t said two words to him, yet he’d clearly been taking stock of him the whole time.

  With a lot of eyebrow raising and head nods, Tate and Malachi seemed to be communicating to one another without uttering a single word.

  Tate folded his arms across his chest. “We just had two of our ranch hands up and quit on us, so we need to bring someone on right away to fill the slack. Most folks say it’s a nice place to work.”

  “I think Tate’s offering you a job,” Holly said in a dry tone. “If he ever gets around to it.”

  “Is that right?” Dylan asked, shooting a grin in Holly’s direction. Joy swept through him at the prospect of being offered a job on his own merits. Other than his service in the military, the only employment he’d ever secured was at the Bar M, and that had been due to his father. In the end, that hadn’t worked out too well.

  Tate glanced over at Malachi, who nodded his head and added, “The job is yours if you want it.”

  Gratitude swelled inside him. Who wouldn’t want to work at this magnificent ranch, this little slice of paradise? He reached out and shook Malachi’s hand. “Thanks for the offer. I’d be happy to come on board.”

  He couldn’t resist looking over at Holly. Her expression bore no hint of any discomfort. If she was surprised by the turn of events, she didn’t show it. She looked serene, as if all was right in her world. It seemed that having successfully ridden Sundance had left Holly with a permanent glow on her face.

  Thank You, Lord. Thanks for giving Holly back a small piece of something she lost. And for giving me this amazing opportunity at Horseshoe Bend Ranch. I still don’t know why You called me to West Falls, but at the moment I’m feeling mighty grateful to be here.

  * * *

  Having Dylan show up unexpectedly at the ranch left Holly with mixed emotions. At first she’d been embarrassed by having him witness her pitiful attempts at riding Sundance. Her lack of finesse was painful, particularly since she’d once been a top-notch rider. Her childhood bedroom had been littered with blue ribbons and trophies. She’d loved galloping across her family’s massive acreage with the wind flying through her hair. Sometimes she missed riding so much it caused a physical pain in her body. It was a relentless ache in her soul that wouldn’t quit. At times she missed having the use of her legs so much she started to believe she felt normal sensation in her lower extremities.

  When Dylan came striding into the corral looking every inch a cowboy on a mission, she’d been surprised and full of jitters. He’d quickly made her feel at ease, soothing not only her but the horse, as well. With his strong, gentle hands and soft voice, he’d made everything better. In his presence she’d felt safe. Not many people made her feel that way. His actions also showed her that he wasn’t harboring any ill will toward her, even though he’d distanced himself once Malachi helped her dismount.

  Tate’s eyes were full of questions as his gaze shifted between her and Dylan. Not that she didn’t have her own. There were so many times over the past year she’d felt there might be something more than friendship brewing between them. And having Dylan show up in West Falls seemed to confirm he was leaning toward more than a platonic relationship. Until he’d discovered she was in a wheelchair. Until she’d pretended to be somebody she wasn’t.

  A little while ago Dylan had disappeared into the stables with Tate and Malachi, no doubt to talk shop and get the particulars about his new job. A part of her ached to tag along so she could show Dylan around the stables herself and introduce him to Fiddlesticks, Picasso and all the other horses. If her parents had been at the ranch, she would have introduced them to Dylan as well, but they were out of town at a horse auction and would be on the road indefinitely.

  Wanting to give
Dylan his space, she’d stayed outside to give Sundance some apple treats and water before grooming him. As she worked her way with a comb through Sundance’s tail, she heaped praise on the magnificent stallion.

  “Hey, I thought you might like to meet someone.” When she looked up, Dylan was standing there holding a lizard in his arms. A dark cowboy hat was now perched on his head. The bearded dragon was a light green color with dark brown spots scattered across his back. He was beautiful.

  “It’s Leo! Oh, he’s amazing,” she gushed. She maneuvered herself away from where Sundance was tethered to his post, not wanting him to be frightened by the lizard. “And he’s so much bigger than I imagined.”

  Dylan laughed. “Yeah, he is, isn’t he? He’s about a foot now and still growing. I have to make a stop at the market so I can stock up on the veggies and fruits he likes to eat, not to mention I have to find some silkworms and grubs.”

  Hearing Dylan talk about Leo was like listening to a parent crow over a child. He was acting like a proud papa. And she didn’t blame him one bit. Leo was fantastic. She leaned forward in her chair, anxious to get a better look at the lizard.

  “Can I hold him? I promise I’ll be careful.”

  His eyes widened at her request. A slow, wide smile began to break out on his face. “Sure thing. Just hold out both of your palms to support him.”

  She held out her hands and Dylan adroitly handed Leo over to her. The first thing she noticed was his solid weight. “Whoa. He’s a big boy!”

  “You got that right. Make sure you support his front arms with your fingers. You can put him in your lap if you want. Might make it easier.”