Tomas: Cowboy Homecoming

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a shirt.”

She gritted her teeth. “Some have snaps. Some have buttons.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can handle both.”

“This is ridiculous. No one buys clothes without looking at them.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been buying my clothes since I was about sixteen and that’s my method.”

That would account for that god-awful shirt he wore in school.

He pointed to her face. “You’re frowning. What’s wrong with the way I buy clothes?”

Now she’d stepped in it. Why was she even talking to him? She should have stayed at the counter. She bit her lip and stepped in a little deeper. “I was remembering that bright pumpkin-orange shirt with purple piping you wore in school. Evidently you had on sunglasses when you bought it.”

He gave a cocky grin. “Ah, the orange shirt. My friends and I were in Billings getting rodeo supplies and they had that shirt in the window. I said someone would have to pay me to wear something so gaudy. Well, that’s what my friends did. They bought it and paid me twenty bucks to wear it to school. It got a lot of attention and laughs. I’m sure I still have it. My mom never throws anything away. It’s too small for me now, but you can have it if you like.” He lifted a daring eyebrow.

“No, thanks.” She took the shirts out of his hands and held one up. “This is a solid baby-blue Western with pearl snaps. It comes in white, yellow and pink. You might prefer the yellow.”

His grin widened and she felt a kick to her lower abdomen. “No. I prefer the blue.”

“See. That’s shopping. Making a decision.” She held up another. “This is a light blue check. We have it in dark blue, too.”

“I’ll take the dark blue.”

“And this—” she pulled a shirt off the rack “—is red, white and blue. It was made popular by Garth Brooks. Since you’re a former marine, you might like it.”

“I do.” He glanced at the shirt and then at her. “But don’t you think it’s a little loud?”

It was, but she wasn’t going to admit that after the orange-shirt comment. “It’s fine.”

“Good. I’ll take three.”

She had a feeling he didn’t really care. To him it was just a shirt, like he’d said. She found that so strange. Her husband, Ryan, had been a picky dresser. Sometimes she took shirts back three or four times before she could find one he liked. And they had to be starched and ironed before he’d wear them. If they weren’t… Her hand instinctively went to her cheek.

“Do you have any chambray shirts and jeans?” He glanced at the shirts hung against a wall.

“Yes.” She waved her hand. “And Austin has a lot more on this round rack. What color?”

“Light blue.”

“Not red?”

“No. That’s Colt’s trademark. Too flashy.”

“Yeah, right.” She reached for two. “Jeans are here.” She pointed to her left. “The size is beneath each stack. Do you know your size?”

He stared directly at her with steamy dark eyes. “Doesn’t every man?”

She felt dizzy, but she just shrugged. “You’d be surprised. A lot of women buy their husband’s clothes.”

“I don’t have a wife, and like I told you, I buy my own clothes.” He studied the sizes and fit and pulled out five pairs.

“Mommy, Sadie’s coloring on my page.”

“Excuse me.” She took the shirts and jeans from him, and as hard as she tried not to touch him, his hand brushed against hers in a fleeting reminder of the difference in the texture of male skin. She drew in a breath, laid the merchandise on the counter and went to her daughters, who sat at a small table in a corner.

“Sadie, color in your own book.” She homeschooled the girls, and while she worked in the store, they did their lessons. Today they were coloring a picture according to the colors Cheyenne had marked on the page.

“Sammie doesn’t know how to color. I’m just showing…” Sadie’s green eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Cheyenne knew why. Tuf was standing behind her. She could feel his warm vibes.

She stepped aside. “I don’t believe you’ve formally met my daughters. Girls, this is Tuf Hart, Aunt Dinah’s brother. And this is Cassandra and Samantha. Otherwise known as Sadie and Sammie.”

“Why not call her Sandy or Cassie?”

Cheyenne tensed. “It’s a name her father gave her.”

Tuf nodded and looked at the girls. “Nice to meet you.”

Sadie scrunched up her face. “I don’t like you.”

“That seems to be a unanimous opinion in the Wright family.”

Cheyenne forced herself not to smile. “Sadie, that’s not nice. Apologize.”

Her spirited daughter hung her head.

“Sadie.”

Sadie mumbled something, and Cheyenne went to the checkout counter with Tuf. “My name is Sundell now,” she said and was unsure of the reason why she needed to mention that.

“So you and your husband moved back to Roundup?”

Cheyenne kept scanning the items into the cash register, trying not to react. Trying to be cool. “No. Just the girls and me.”

There was a pregnant pause filled with all kinds of questions. But again, she didn’t react. “Will there be anything else?”

“I need PRCA regulated rowels and spurs.”

“Austin orders those.”

“I figured.” He reached for his wallet in his back pocket and pulled out a credit card.

She totaled his purchases, swiped his card and ripped off a receipt for him to sign. She watched as his strong hand slashed out Tomas Hart. No one around here called him that. Even in school he was always known as Tuf, the youngest Hart.

As he slipped the card back into his wallet, he said, “I was out of line the other day. Your child is your business and I shouldn’t have said a word.”

She was taken aback by the apology, but all of Sarah Hart’s children had good manners. “No, you shouldn’t have, but I appreciate your concern. Sadie always tests my patience.”

He nodded and picked up the big bag from the counter as if it weighed no more than his wallet. “Thanks for the help.”

Even though she told herself not to, she watched through the display window as he took long strides back to his silver truck.

“Mommy, who’s that man?”

Cheyenne looked down to see Sadie staring up at her with big green eyes.

Someone I knew a long time ago. Someone I wished I’d had the courage to date.

“He’s Aunt Dinah’s brother.”

Sadie bobbed her head. “Aunt Dinah gots lots of brothers.”

Sammie leaned into her, wrapping herself as close as she could to Cheyenne, needing attention, love and reassurance that their world was still okay. Sometimes she didn’t know if she had that much strength because she struggled every day to make sense of a life blown apart. But for her daughters she would do everything possible to hide her fears.

Her eyes strayed to the window. If only she could go back in time…

* * *

TUF GLANCED ACROSS THE STREET at the redbrick building that used to be the home of the old newspaper but was now the Number 1 Diner. Sierra, Beau’s wife, owned it, and Tuf’s mother raved about the home cooking. He swung the bag of clothes into the backseat of his truck and walked over.

Inside, the diner was decorated in a mining theme, and he remembered his mom saying it had been named in honor of Sierra’s grandfather, who’d died in a mine. On the walls were mining photos and a long shelf held mining artifacts. The tables were red and the chairs had black leather seats. The place had a rustic, homey appeal, and the scent coming from the kitchen made him hungry.

He spotted Dinah and Austin sitting close together in a booth. Not wanting to interrupt, he started for the counter to order coffee, but Austin eased out of the booth, so Tuf strolled over to join them.

“Hey, Tuf.” Austin shook his hand.

“I was just over at your shop to order some rowels, spurs and chaps.”

Austin’s eyebrows rose. “Getting back into rodeoing?”

“Yeah.”

“Come back and I’ll get you set up.”

“Okay. I’ll visit with my sister first.”

“Good deal.” Austin leaned down to kiss Dinah and then made his way toward the door. Dinah’s eyes followed him and she had a dreamy look on her face.

Tuf slid into the booth. “You’ve got it bad, Sheriff.”

Her gaze swung to him. “Yes, I do.”

Tuf removed his hat and placed it beside him. Before he could say anything, a young girl in jeans with a red apron trimmed in black appeared to take his order.

“Just coffee, please.”

When the girl left, Dinah asked, “So you’re getting back into rodeoing?”

“Mom and I talked about it. She’d rather I take it easy for a while, but I need to be busy.”

“Maybe you’ve been taking it easy for two years. Who knows?”

This was the Dinah he knew, the one who came straight to the point, spoke her mind and didn’t pussyfoot around.

“But I’m not going to grill you because I know you’ve been through a great deal.”

Damn. She was folding like a greenhorn in Vegas. He didn’t expect that. He should just tell her where he’d been, and he didn’t understand what was holding him back.

The waitress placed a cup of hot coffee in front of him, and his hand gripped the warmth of the cup. But words lodged in his throat.

“Are you okay?” Dinah asked in a concerned voice. “That’s all I want to know.”

“I’m fine.” He took a sip of coffee and thought it best to change the subject. “I saw Cheyenne over at the store.”

“She helps out when Austin needs her. Aren’t her little girls adorable?” Dinah looked down and rubbed the swell of her stomach. “I hope our little one is as cute.”

“How could it not? His or her mother is a natural beauty.”

“Stop it.” Dinah wrinkled her nose. “You’re my brother. You have to say that.”

He grinned. “Not really. That’s Austin’s job. Me, I can poke fun all I want. It comes by right of birth.” He pointed to her chest. “Love the way that badge sparkles on your khaki shirt there.” He leaned over to see her waist. “Damn. No gun.”

“Will you stop?” Her voice was stern, but her eyes sparkled.

He took a sip of coffee, remembering all the times he’d teased her as a kid. It was part of his job as little brother. Her teen years were a nightmare. John Hart kept a tight rein on his only daughter, and Dinah rebelled over and over. Tuf often wondered if Dinah would make it through those turbulent times. He would tease her just to see her smile.

Dinah scooted to the end of the booth. “I have to get back to work.”

“What’s Cheyenne’s situation?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She sighed. “Please tell me you’ve gotten over that teenage crush.”

“I have.” He twisted his cup. “I’m just curious. She’s different.”

“She’s going through a rough time.”

“She said her husband wasn’t with her in Roundup.”

“No.” Dinah dug in her purse and laid some bills on the table.

“Are they divorced?”

She frowned at him. “No. He died.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t expecting that. “Cancer, heart…”

“Tuf.” His sister actually glared at him. “Cheyenne’s emotions are very fragile right now and…”

“What happened to her husband?”

Her glare was now burning holes through him. “You can’t let this go, can you?”

“Like I told you, I’m curious. There’s a certain sadness about her, and I know something traumatic has happened in her life.”

Dinah zipped her purse. “Okay. But what I tell you, you keep to yourself. Very few people in Roundup know this, and I don’t want people gossiping behind her back.”

“Have you ever known me to gossip?”

“No, and that’s why I’m telling you.” She drew a deep breath. “Her husband was a marine.”

“He died in combat?”

“No. He was out for six months and had severe PTSD. Austin said he had terrible nightmares and was sometimes violent.”

A knot formed in his stomach and bile rose in his throat. He fought the terrible memories every day, and he vowed they would not bring him down. He’d stand strong. He was a marine. But there were days…

“What happened?”

“He left a note for Cheyenne saying he was leaving and not to try and find him. He added they were better off without him. Two days later he was found in a motel. He’d shot himself.”

“Oh, God.” Now he knew what the look in Cheyenne’s eyes was about. The life she’d planned was not the life she was living. She’d learned that there was hatred and evil in the world and it had spread to the most innocent victims like herself and her daughters. Her belief in life had been shattered, and she was struggling to make sense of it all—like he was.

“I’m sorry she had to go through that,” he murmured.

“We all are.” Dinah reached across the table and rubbed his forearm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep.” He reached for his hat. “I’ll walk you to your office.”

Dinah got to her feet. “Oh, please. I’m the sheriff, remember?”

Tuf stood with a smile. But he still had an ache inside for all the soldiers who had come home and were still fighting that terrible war in their minds.

“Look,” Dinah said, and he followed her gaze to the kitchen area. Beau stood there. He kissed Sierra and headed for the front door.

“Hey, Beau,” Tuf called.

Beau swung around and walked toward them with a grin on his face.

“You’re home,” Tuf said.

“We got back late last night. I spoke with Dad, and he and Jordan just drove in, too. I’m picking up Duke at the sheriff’s office, and we’re going out to welcome them home.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dinah stepped toward the door. “I’ll go with you to the office to make sure we don’t have anything pressing. See you at the ranch.” She waved to Tuf.

Tuf made his way across the street to his truck. As he was about to get in, he noticed Sadie and Sammie looking through the glass door of the shop. He raised a hand in greeting. Surprisingly, they both lifted a hand, but they didn’t smile. He knew without a doubt they were affected by their father’s death. Cheyenne shooed them back to their seats, and their eyes locked for a moment. So much sadness clouded her beautiful face. He got in his truck and drove away, telling himself it was none of his business.

And he was real good at lying to himself.

* * *

WHEN HE REACHED THE RANCH, he saw Ace’s and Colt’s trucks parked near Ace’s vet office. He drove there, too. As he got out, he heard loud voices coming from the barn attached to the office.

“It’s time, Ace,” Colt was saying. “Midnight has healed and we need to get him on the rodeo circuit as soon as February.”

“No way. I’m not risking him getting hurt again. Breeding season is about to start and he’ll be busy.”

“Damn it. Can’t you see how restless he is? He needs the excitement of the rodeo.”

“I agree,” Tuf said before he thought it through.

His brothers swung around to stare at him. It wasn’t a good stare. His settling-in period was over.

Ace’s eyes narrowed on him. “You haven’t shown any interest in this ranch for eight years and now you think you have a say?”

“Yeah, Tuf,” Colt added. “We understand about the first six years. You were fighting a war, but where in the hell have you been for the last two?”

Ace had a lot more to say. “Do you even realize how bad it’s been around here? We had to lease a lot of our land and take out a mortgage with my vet business on the line to survive. Everyone pulled their weight to make sure Thunder Ranch didn’t go under.”

“I didn’t know.”

“No, because you never called home to find out.” Cool, collected Ace had reached a breaking point, and Tuf knew he had every right to be upset. “You never even called home to check on Mom. That I can’t forgive. Do you know she had a spell with her heart and was hospitalized for a few days? We had no way to get in touch with you.”

He felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut by the wildest bronc in Montana. He swallowed. “Mom had my cell number. I gave it to her when I called that one time.”

“No.” Ace shook his head. “Mom would have told me.”

“I had it,” their mom said from the doorway. Uncle Josh, Beau, Duke and Dinah stood behind her.

“What?” The color drained from Ace’s face. “But you asked me to call his friends to see if Tuf had contacted them.”

The group walked farther into the barn until they stood in a circle. Horses neighed, and Royce and Gracie came in through a side door. But everyone was staring at his mom.

“Yes, I did,” Sarah admitted. “I was worried and wanted to know if Tomas had reached out to some of his old buddies. They would talk to you quicker than an overprotective mother. I’m sorry, Ace. I know I lean on you too much.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Ace assured her. “It’s not your fault. It’s Tuf’s.”

Tuf took the blow to his heart like a marine, like a cowboy, without flinching. It was his fault, and it was time to open that wound and let it bleed until he couldn’t feel the pain anymore.

Uncle Josh patted his shoulder, and Tuf hadn’t even realized he’d moved toward him. “We don’t mean to pressure you, Tuf, but you’re a part of this family and we’ve all been worried. It’s not like you to shut the family out. If you found someone and wanted to spend some time with her, we’d all understand. We just need to know why you’ve ignored us for two years.”

“There isn’t anyone,” he murmured under his breath.

“Were you injured and in a hospital?” Dinah asked.

“No. It wasn’t that.”

He looked at their expectant faces and knew he had to tell them. They deserved the truth. But once he did, they would look at him differently.

And he didn’t know if he was ready to handle different.

Chapter Four

Tuf couldn’t put it off any longer.

Accountability had arrived.

He held up his hands and took two steps backward. “Okay. Just listen. Don’t say anything until I’m through.”

Everyone nodded, except his mom.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “You don’t have to tell us a thing if you don’t want to.”

Ace flung a hand toward Tuf. “Stop protecting him. You always do that. Tuf’s old enough and strong enough to take responsibility for his own actions.”

“Why did you start this?” his mom demanded of Ace. “I told you to leave it alone.”

Ace sighed and turned away.

His mother instinctively knew he’d been through something horrific, and she was doing everything she could to protect him. Shielding her kids from pain had been her life’s work, but Tuf couldn’t take the easy way out. Not this time.

“Ace is right,” he told his mother. “I have to take responsibility for the last two years, so please just listen.” He stared down at the dirt floor. “I was all set to come home. My commander said the paperwork was in order. One more mission and I was going to be flown to Germany for evaluation and then to a base in the U.S. and finally home. I couldn’t wait to get back to Thunder Ranch and family.”

He took a deep breath and stared at the corner post of a horse stall. “The insurgents had attacked a small village that they suspected of giving aid to U.S. Marines. Most of them were able to get out but two families were trapped. Our orders were to go in a back way in the dead of night and rescue the Afghans. An Afghan soldier guided us through rocky terrain to the village. Getting in undetected was no problem. We found four adults and three kids in a mud-walled hut. Dawn was about to break and we had to get them out quickly. Then we were informed by the Afghan soldier that there was an elderly woman trapped in another hut. We found her and brought her to the others.

“When we were finally ready to leave, daylight broke. For some reason a little girl about three darted for the doorway. PFC Michael Dobbins was closest to her and he jumped to grab her. But it was too late. The insurgents knew we were there. They fired at Michael and he went down and fell on the girl. We immediately returned fire, but Michael was taking the brunt of the hits. His body jerked every time a bullet struck him. I told the corporal to call the commander and let him know what was happening and to call for mortar fire. We needed help.”

His lungs expanded and his hands curled into fists as red flashes of gunfire blurred his eyes. “Then I charged out that door, firing blindly, and covered Michael’s bloody body.”

“No,” Sarah cried, and Josh put his arm around her.

Tuf didn’t pause or look at his mother. He couldn’t. He had to keep talking.

“The rest of my unit joined me, and we made a wall in front of Michael to keep more bullets from hitting him. We just kept returning fire, and we all knew we were in the open and could very well die there. Then the order came, charge up that hill and take out the insurgents, so we hauled ass. A marine was hit and then the Afghan soldier went down. We found shelter behind some rocks and then we waited, hoping and praying that the attack chopper would come in soon with mortar fire.”

He paused. “As soon as the blasts started, we continued our surge to the top. When we got there, six heavily armed insurgents came out of a cave. They fired on us, but we had the upper hand. It was over in seconds. We ran down that hill, picked up our two wounded men and headed for the rescue chopper. Everyone was shouting, ‘Run, run, run,’ but I kept thinking about Michael back at that hut. I couldn’t leave him in that hellhole.”

He unclenched his numb hands. “I ran in the other direction, and I could hear my men shouting for me to come back. We didn’t know if more insurgents were in the area, and we were ordered to get out fast. But I still kept running toward that hut. I fell down by Michael. The mother and father of the little girl were there desperately trying to lift Michael’s body off their child. He was a big man and deadweight. I helped them and the girl was still alive. On the ground was some sort of Muslim toy. The girl must have dropped it when they’d rushed into the hut to escape the insurgents. I handed it to her and realized the toy was the reason she’d run for the door. I pointed in the direction where the chopper was landing and told them to go. Then I hoisted Michael’s blood-soaked body over my shoulder and followed.

“Everyone had already boarded, but the chopper waited for me. Two marines helped to carry Michael inside. I watched as a medic covered Michael’s body with a blanket. He was dead. He was finally going home, too.”

“Oh, no,” his mother cried.

Tuf kept talking because he knew if he stopped he wouldn’t be able to start again. “I leaned my head against the chopper wall, closed my eyes and imagined I was back at Thunder Ranch in Mom’s kitchen eating peanut butter from a jar with my finger. I could see that look on Mom’s face when I did things like that and I relaxed, wishing and praying I was away from that awful war. Away from the killing.

“I don’t remember much about the next few days, but I was flown to Germany for evaluation and then to the San Diego base. I was going home and putting it behind me was all I could think about, but first I planned to go to the commander’s office and ask for Michael’s parents’ address. I wanted to go see them and tell them what a hero their son was in saving the little girl’s life. Before I could do that, I got a message my presence was requested in the commander’s office. I thought he wanted to wish me well or something. I was unprepared for what he really wanted. He said to call my folks and let them know I wasn’t coming home just yet. A plane was waiting to take me to the naval hospital in Bethesda, Maryland. Michael Dobbins was asking to see me.”

A collective “oh” echoed around the dusty barn, and Tuf noticed Royce and Grace had taken seats on bales of alfalfa, listening intently.

“I was stunned but glad he was alive. I figured he wanted to thank me for carrying him out of there. I was mistaken. The doctor advised me to be prepared for the worst. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Michael. He was bandaged from head to toe. Tubes seemed to be attached to every part of his body. The gunfire had blown off the left side of his face. They’d amputated his left leg and he was in danger of losing his left arm. But Michael was refusing any more surgeries. He wanted to die.”