Wyoming Brave

She wondered what Sari would think of this taciturn, antagonistic rancher who was offended by a simple cross, a symbol of Merrie’s faith. That faith had carried her and her sister through some incredible sorrows. Their father had beaten them both, kept them like prisoners in the mansion where they lived, made them afraid of men. He was a killer, and he’d been involved in laundering money for organized crime. If he’d lived, he’d have gone to prison for life, despite his wealth.

That wealth had almost cost Sari a husband. Paul Fiore was the only member of his entire family who hadn’t gone into crime for a living. Paul had been with the FBI for a long time, with a brief few years as head of security for the Grayling properties. Now he was assigned to the FBI office in San Antonio. Sari had concocted a story whereby Darwin Grayling had left a hundred million dollars to Paul—half the amount Sari had received from their mother’s two secret bank accounts that she’d left to the girls in her will. Each was given two hundred million, and it had almost sent Paul running. He didn’t want people to think he’d married Sari for her money. But now he and Sari were very happily married, and Merrie was happy for them. She and her sister had some terrible scars, mental and physical, at their father’s hand.

She sat on her bed, still shivering a little from the rancher’s anger. She wondered if she was going to be able to stand it here. Ren Colter scared her.

* * *

SHE DID SLEEP, FINALLY. She went downstairs a little late for breakfast, hoping Ren would already be gone. But he was just getting up from the table.

He glared at her. “We keep regular hours here for meals,” he told her curtly. “If you come sashaying down late, you don’t eat.”

“But, Mr. Ren...” Delsey protested.

“Rules aren’t broken here,” Ren returned. He looked at Merrie, who was stiff as a board. “You heard me. Delsey will tell you what hours mealtimes are. Don’t be late again.”

He shoved his hat down over his eyes, shouldered into his heavy coat and went out without another single word.

Merrie was fighting back tears.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Delsey said. She drew the girl close and rocked her while she cried. “He’s just getting over a broken engagement, and he’s bitter. He wasn’t like this before. He’s basically a kind man...”

“He said my cross was stupid and I wasn’t to let it show again,” she sobbed. “What kind of man is he?”

Delsey rocked her some more and sighed. “It’s a long story. He went to a famous college up north on a scholarship and a professor there changed his mind about religion. He was an excellent student, but when he came home, he was suddenly antireligion. He sounded off to his mother about her Christmas tree and her faith, and had her running away in tears. Then he overheard her telling Randall that Ren was as cold and heartless as his father, whom she’d divorced. She was proud of Randall, because he was a better son. Ren just left. He’s never spoken to his mother again.”

Merrie pulled back and looked at the older woman through red eyes. “She divorced his father?”

She nodded. She handed Merrie tissues to dry her eyes with. “His father owned this ranch, but it was a hard life. His mother had very expensive tastes, so the story goes, and Randall’s father wanted her. So she ran away with him.”

Merrie grimaced. “It’s a huge ranch now.”

“Yes, it is. But it was small and in debt when Ren showed up at the door just after that Christmas. He and his father began to work together to build up a breeding herd. Ren knew business, with his Harvard business degree, and his father knew cattle.” She smiled. “It took fifteen years, but they diversified into oil and mining, as well as cattle, and they built a small empire here. Ren’s very proud of it. His father was, too. He died two years ago.” She sighed. “Ren wouldn’t even let his mother come to the funeral. He’s still bitter about what he heard her say. He won’t speak to her at all.”

“It isn’t human, to hold a grudge like that,” Merrie said quietly. “He seems such a cold man,” she added softly.

“There’s a kind man under all that ice. It’s just that he’s been frozen for a long time.”

“He scares me to death,” Merrie confessed.

“He won’t hurt you,” Delsey said quietly. “You have to stand up to him, honey. A man like that will walk all over you if you let him.”

“I’ve lived almost twenty-three years with a man like that,” Merrie told her. “He...” She swallowed and her arms folded over her chest. “He was brutal to us, especially after our mother died. He wanted sons. He got us. So he made us pay for it. We couldn’t even date. He wouldn’t let us have friends. We still can’t drive a car. I’ve never even been kissed. How’s that for a stifled environment?” she asked with a hollow laugh. “The only concession he made was that we were allowed to go to church. You have no idea how important faith was to us when we were growing up. It was all that kept us going.” She fingered the cross under her sweatshirt. “My mother gave me this cross. And I’m not taking it off.”

Delsey smiled. “That’s the spirit. You tell him.”

“Sorry. I’m not a lemming,” Merrie teased.

Delsey laughed. “You’re a tonic, you know.”

Merrie looked wistfully at biscuits and sausage and eggs. “I guess I’ll be on time at lunch,” she said.

“He’s gone. Sit down and eat.”

Merrie sat at the table, her eyes worriedly glancing at the door.

“Stay there,” Delsey said. She went and looked out the front door. Ren was going down the hill toward the barn in his big red SUV. Snow had started to fall lightly.

She went back to the kitchen. “He’s gone to the barn. After that, he’ll ride out to the line cabins and check on the livestock. Snow’s starting to fall.”

“It is?” Merrie was excited.

“Eat first,” Delsey said with a laugh. “Then you can go play in the snow.”

She hesitated with her fork over the eggs. “Thanks, Delsey.”

“It’s no problem. Really.”

Merrie sighed with pleasure and dug into breakfast. Afterward, she slipped on a light jacket and her boots. She was sorry she hadn’t packed a coat. They never had snow in Comanche Wells in autumn. They rarely even had it in winter.

“Child, you need something heavier than that!” Delsey fussed.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t mind the cold so much if there’s snow.” She laughed. “If I get too cold, I’ll just come back inside.”

“All right, but be careful where you go, okay?”

“I will.”

* * *

SHE STARTED WALKING around the house and down the path that led to some huge outbuildings with adjacent corrals. There was even a pole barn with bench seats. Inside it, a man was working a horse with a length of rope, tossing it lightly at the prancing animal. It was black and beautiful, like silk all over. It reminded her of home and her family’s stable of horses.

She played in the thick flakes of falling snow, laughing as she danced. It was so incredibly beautiful. She caught her breath, watching it freeze as it left her mouth, enjoying the cold, white landscape and the mountains beyond. She wanted to paint it. She loved her home in Texas, but this view was exquisite. She committed it to memory to sketch later.

She was curious about the poor horse that had been beaten. She could empathize with it, because she knew how that felt. She had deep scars on her back from her father’s belt, when she’d tried to save her poor sister from a worse beating. Her father had turned his wrath on her instead.

She shivered, remembering the terror she and Sari had felt when he came at them. He wouldn’t even let a local physician treat them, for fear he’d be arrested. He got an unlicensed doctor on his payroll to stitch the girls up and treat them. There was no question of plastic surgery. They had to live with the scars.

Not now, of course. Sari and Merrie were both worth two hundred million each. They’d gone shopping just before poor Sari ran away to the Bahamas to get over Paul’s rejection. But Merrie had bought sweats and pajamas and very plain clothing. She still couldn’t force herself to buy modern things, like crop tops and low-cut pants. She didn’t want to look as if she was hungry for male attention.

Her eyes were drawn to a huge building with two big doors at its front and a corral adjoining it, with doors that opened into the building. The area was cross-fenced, so that each animal had a slice of pasture. That had to be the stables. She wandered closer, hoping not to run into any of Ren’s men. She wanted to see the poor horse. She knew they’d stop her. Ren would have left orders about it, she was sure.

She waited in the shadows until two men came out.

“We can grab a cup of coffee and come back in thirty minutes,” one told the other. “The mare isn’t going to foal tonight, would be my bet, but we have to stay with her.”

“Let’s don’t be gone long,” the other one said on a sigh. “Boss has been in a terrible temper lately.”

“He should have known that woman was nothing but trouble,” the first one scoffed. “She wrapped him up like a late Christmas present and kept him off balance until he bought her that ring.”

“Don’t mention Christmas around him,” the other man muttered. “Almost got slugged for it myself last December.”

“He doesn’t believe in that stuff,” the first man sighed. “Well, to each his own, but I love Christmas and I’m putting up a tree month after next. He can just close his eyes when he drives by my cabin, because the damned thing is going in the window.”

The other man laughed. “Living dangerously.”

“Why not? He pays good wages, but I’m getting tired of walking on eggshells around him. The man’s temper gets worse by the day, you know?”

“Think of all those benefits. Even retirement. You really want to give that up because the boss is in a snit? He’ll get over it.”

“Hasn’t got over it in six months, has he?”

“It takes time. Let’s get that coffee.”

“Vet’s coming tomorrow to check on the mare. Maybe he got that tranquilizer gun for Hurricane. Damned shame, what happened to him.”

“Not as bad as what happened to the man who did it,” the other man said, wincing. “Boss turned him every way but loose. I never saw so many bruises, and he was a big man. Bigger than the boss, even.”

“The boss was in the army reserves. His unit was called up and he went overseas. He was captain of some company, not sure which, but they were in the thick of the fighting. He changed afterward, I hear.”

“He’s been through a lot. Guess he’s entitled to a bad temper occasionally.”

“I didn’t mind seeing him lose it with that damned cowboy who beat Hurricane. Damn, it was sweet to watch! The man never landed a single punch on the boss.”

“Sheriff noticed all the bruises. He said he guessed the man was so drunk he fell down the stairs headfirst.”

His companion burst out laughing. “Yeah. Good thing he likes the boss, ain’t it?”

“Good thing.”

They walked on. Merrie, who’d been listening, grimaced. Ren had been through hard times, too. She was sad for him. But that didn’t make her less afraid of him.

She opened the stable door and stepped inside. It was cool, but comfortable. She walked down the bricked aisle carefully. There were several horses inside. But she knew immediately which one was Hurricane.

He was coal black with a beautiful, tangled mane. He pitched his head when he saw Merrie and stamped his feet. Then he neighed. She saw the bridle. It was far too tight. She could see blood under it. She winced. There were visible lashes down his sides, near his tail. Deep cuts.

“Poor baby,” she said softly. “Oh, poor, poor baby!”

He pricked his ears up and listened.

She went a step closer. “What did he do to you?” she whispered. She moved another step closer. “Poor boy. Poor thing.”

He shook his mane. He looked at her closely and moved, just a step.

She spotted some horse treats in a nearby bag. She picked up two of them, putting one in her pocket. She held one in her palm, so that the horse couldn’t nip her fingers, and slowly moved it toward him. If he was that dangerous, it would be difficult even for a cowboy to feed or water him. She saw a trough in the back of the stall. It seemed to contain water. But the feed tray was inside the stall, and it was empty. He must be starved. She moved all the way to the gate, one step at a time.

CHAPTER TWO

HER FATHER HAD taken a whip to one of the Thoroughbreds once, when Merrie was in high school. She’d gone to see him after her father left the ranch on a European business trip with that Leeds woman. The trainer had talked to the horse softly, but it wouldn’t let him near it. Merrie had braved its nervous prancing and gone right up to it. The horse had responded to her immediately, to the trainer’s delight. After that, Merrie had been its caretaker. At least, as long as her father wasn’t around. He’d killed a dog she loved. He might have done the same to a horse that she’d shown attention to. Sari and she had never understood why their father hated them so. Probably, it was payback. He was getting even with their late mother, through them, for cutting him out of the bulk of her family wealth.

“Have you had anything to eat, baby?” she asked Hurricane in a whisper as she moved her hand closer to the big horse. “Are you hungry? Poor baby. Poor, poor baby!”

He moved closer to the fence. He shook his mane again.

She went closer and sent her breath toward his nostrils, something she’d watched their trainer do with horses he was breaking back home. She blew gently into the big horse’s nostrils. Her father’s Thoroughbreds had been off-limits to the girls when they were growing up, or she might have learned more about horses. The injured Thoroughbred had been the only one of her father’s horses that she had access to. Although there were saddle mounts that the girls had permission to ride, they were careful not to pay too much attention to them when their father was around.

“I won’t hurt you,” she whispered. Her face was drawn and still. “I know how you feel. You know that, don’t you, baby?”

He moved closer, looking at her. She held the treat out in her palm.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked softly.

He shook his mane and then, suddenly, lowered his head. But it wasn’t to attack her. He took the treat from her palm and wolfed it down. He looked at her again, quizzically.

“One more,” she said. She pulled the second treat from her pocket, held it out on her palm. Again, his head lowered and he took the treat gently from it with his lips. He wolfed that down, too.

“Sweet boy,” she said softly. She held out her hand.

He hesitated only for a minute before he moved closer and lowered his head toward hers. She pulled him down by his neck and laid her head against the side of his. “Oh, you poor, poor thing,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Poor horse!”

He moved his head against her, almost like a caress. She didn’t see the two returned cowboys in the back of the stable, gaping at her. There was Hurricane, laying his head against her. They were spellbound.

She touched the bridle. Hurricane hesitated at first. But then he stilled. She reached up and unbuckled the halter. Very carefully, she took it away from his head and slipped it off. She grimaced at the bloody places there and on his body.

“Sweet boy,” she whispered as she put the bridle aside. She reached her hand up and stroked him gently. “Sweet, sweet boy.” She laid her forehead against his with a long, heavy sigh.

After a minute he lifted his head and looked at her and whinnied.

“You need medicine on those cuts, don’t you,” she said softly.

“And you need therapy,” Ren Colter said coldly from behind her. “You were told to stay away from that horse!”

Hurricane jumped and moved back from the gate. He shook his mane and snorted.

Merrie turned with the halter in her hand. She walked toward Ren and pushed it toward him.

He stared at it, and her, with utter shock. “How did you get that off?”

“He let me,” she said simply. “Do you have medicine I can put on the cuts?”

“He’ll kill you if you walk into that stall with him,” Ren snapped. “He’s injured two cowboys already.”

“He won’t hurt me,” she said quietly.

He started to speak. But then he looked at the horse. Hurricane wasn’t stamping and running at the gate, as he had before. He was simply looking at them.

“You’re sure of that?” he asked in a quiet undertone.

She looked up at him with quiet, sad pale blue eyes. “Sort of,” she said. “Of course, if I’m wrong and he kills me, you can always stand over my grave and say you told me so.”

The sarcasm pricked his temper. “You think you know how a horse feels?” he asked sarcastically.

She shivered a little, even though it wasn’t that cold in the stable. She didn’t want to discuss anything personal with that cold, hard man. “He hasn’t attacked me, has he?”

He hesitated, but only briefly. He turned to the two cowboys who’d been standing there while Merrie worked magic on the dangerous animal. “Do we have some of that salve the doctor left?”

“Uh, yes,” one man stammered. He went to get it and handed it to Merrie. “Ma’am,” he said, taking off his hat, “I ain’t never seen nothing like that. You sure have got a way with animals.”

She smiled. “Thanks,” she said shyly.

Ren’s dark eyes narrowed. “If he starts toward you, you run,” he said firmly.

“I will. But, he won’t hurt me.”

They moved back, out of the horse’s line of sight. Ren was concerned. He didn’t want his brother’s girlfriend killed on his ranch. But she did seem to have a rapport with the horse. It was uncanny.

She opened the gate and moved into the stall, with firm purpose in her step and no sign of fear.

“Sweet boy,” she whispered, blowing in his nostrils again. “Will you let me help you? I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

He shifted restlessly, but he made no move to attack her as she reached up and put some of the salve very delicately on the bad places on his head. From there she moved to his injured flanks, wincing at the cuts. She put salve on those, too, but she could tell they needed stitching. It was no wonder that he was still in this condition. He’d injured anyone who came near him. He was afraid of men, because a man had hurt him. Women, on the other hand, were not his enemies.

She finished her work, smoothed her hand over his mane and laid her head against his neck. “Brave, sweet boy,” she whispered. “What a wonderful horse you are, Hurricane.”

He moved his head against her. She patted him one more time and left the stall, securing the lock. She smiled at the horse and told him goodbye before she walked back down the aisle where the men were.

“The cuts on his flank really need stitching, I think,” she said softly. “But he’s afraid of men. A man hurt him. Women didn’t.” She looked up at Ren. “Do you have a female vet anywhere within driving distance?”

Ren started. She was right. The horse hated men. “There’s one over in Powell, I think. I could send one of the boys to bring her here.”

“He’ll probably let her stitch him up.”

“You can come out and work your witchcraft on him to get her in the stall, can’t you?” Ren asked sarcastically.

She drew in a breath and turned away. She didn’t bother to answer him as she left.

He stared after her with mixed feelings. He hated women. But this one...she was different. All the same, he wasn’t letting her close enough to bite, even if that wild horse would.

“You shouldn’t be so harsh with her, Mr. Ren,” the older cowboy said quietly. “Looks to me like she’s had some of that at home already.”

He glared at the cowboy, who tipped his hat, turned and lit a shuck out of the stable.

* * *

MERRIE WENT TO her room. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t! That Wyoming bad man wasn’t going to upset her.

She pulled out her drawing pad and her pencils and went to work on a study of Hurricane. He was so beautiful. Black as night. Soft as silk. She was drawn to him, because he was like her. He’d been through the wars, too.

It took a long time to finish the drawing. She colored it with pastel pencils, delicately. When she finished, she had an awesome portrait of Hurricane. She smiled as she put it in the case with her other drawings. She’d have to do one of Ren, she decided. But she’d have to make a decision about whether to put just horns or horns and a forked tail on the subject of the picture.

* * *

WHEN SHE GOT DOWNSTAIRS, she was late again for supper. But this time Ren was there and he wouldn’t let Delsey put anything on the table.

“You know the rules,” Ren said harshly. “If you don’t get to the table on time, you don’t eat!”

She didn’t want to tell him that she’d been drawing his horse and had gotten lost in her work. She didn’t want to fight. She’d had so many years of fighting. It was easier to just conform.

“All right,” she said in her soft, quiet voice.

He glared at her. He hated her beauty. He hated the way she knuckled under. He wanted a fight, and he couldn’t start one.

He turned away from the table and pulled off his belt. It was a new one and he’d cinched it too tight. He doubled it, pulled it together and snapped it.

Merrie gasped and ran into the kitchen, hiding behind Delsey and shaking all over.

“What the hell...?” Ren exclaimed.

He walked into the kitchen with the belt still in his hand, and Merrie screamed.

“Put that thing down!” Delsey said quickly. She pulled Merrie into her arms and held her close, rocking her while she sobbed.

Belatedly, Ren realized that the belt had upset her when he snapped it. Frowning, he took it back into the living room and tossed it into his chair. He went back into the kitchen.

“She thought you were going to hit her with it,” Delsey said.

Merrie was still shaking, sobbing. It brought back horrible memories of her father and his uncontrollable temper. He’d hit her and hit her...

“I’ve never hit a woman in my life,” he said in the softest tone she’d heard from him. “Not even under provocation. I would never raise my hand to you. Never.”

She bit her lower lip. She couldn’t quite look at him. “O-okay,” she stammered.

He looked torn. Her reaction to the belt was unsettling. Someone had used one on her. He began to understand why the damaged horse had responded to her. She was damaged, too.

“Get her something to eat,” he told Delsey gently. “Anything she wants.”

“Yes, Mr. Ren,” she replied. She smiled at him.

Merrie didn’t speak. She was still shaking.

He left the two women alone and went into his study. It had been years since he’d had even a drink of the scotch whiskey he kept in the cabinet. But he poured a small measure and downed it. It troubled him, seeing Merrie’s reaction to the belt. Despite his unwelcoming attitude, he didn’t like seeing her frightened. He liked even less knowing that he’d frightened her.

* * *

“HE’D NEVER STRIKE YOU,” Delsey assured Merrie as she put ham and bread and mayonnaise on the table. “Here. Let me make you a sandwich. You’ll feel better.”

“My father...always snapped the belt like that, just before he used it on us.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “He’s gone, now. My sister and I should feel sorrow, but all we can feel is relief. It was like being freed from prison.” She looked at Delsey. “He wouldn’t even buy us clothes unless he picked them out. We couldn’t date, we couldn’t have friends over, we couldn’t go to anyone else’s home...” She lowered her eyes. “He was so paranoid that he had us followed everywhere we went.”

“You poor child,” Delsey said, touching her hair. “You’re safe here. Mr. Ren may sound like a lion, but he would never hurt you.”

She swallowed. “Okay.”

“Now sit down here. Would you like some milk?”

“Oh, yes. Please.”

Delsey made her a sandwich and a glass of milk, and busied herself with the dinner dishes while she ate.