Authors: Kay Springsteen
Tires squealed just a bit when he took the
downward curve a little sharply. He was in the foothills now, only
a few miles to go. He'd be able to open his baby up on the highway
once the last hill was at his back. Soon the sun would drift down
into the shadowy embrace of the mountains behind him, leaving him
the stars for company. Aw, man, he'd missed these mountains.
Halfway through what he recognized as the
last mountain road switchback, Ryan downshifted again and punched
the gas. His mind registered the apparition blocking the road in
front of him a bare second before reaction set in. With a curse on
his lips, he stood on the brake, sending his car into a slow,
sideways skid and stalling the engine.
"Holy Moly!"
Adrenaline screamed through his veins,
skirted along raw nerves as he stared, with equal measures of
irritation and astonishment.
Washed in the golden blush from the setting
sun, the horse reared, angrily striking out at the air between them
with menacing hooves, nearly unseating his rider. With a toss of
his head, the startled horse reared again, baring his teeth and
screaming defiantly in Ryan's direction.
Ryan appreciated the powerful lines of the
red roan but the colt was clearly too much for his rider. Though
the horse responded to her steady touch, it was obvious any sense
of control she had was an illusion. When she swung her gaze in his
direction, fury blazed in eyes the color of chicory blossoms.
"Jerk!" Her face mirrored the defiance of
the horse. She shoved at the wild mass of dark hair falling across
her face. The motion distracted her, giving her mount the opening
to misbehave.
With a clatter of edgy hooves on asphalt,
the big colt danced and circled, threatened to rear again, but she
recovered quickly and held him down. Then the rider tugged on the
reins, turned the agitated horse and eased him off the road,
sidestepping him down the steep, gravel-covered incline. Upon
reaching solid footing, she wheeled the colt sharply around.
Casting a last scathing look over her shoulder, she kicked her
mount into a reckless gallop across the prairie.
Ryan pushed open the car door and jumped
out. He kept his eyes on the horse and rider until they were no
more than a speck in the distance, haunted by those amazing blue
eyes that shot sparks when they were angry.
"Well," he said to the early evening sky.
"Guess the town's grown by at least one since I left."
He wasn't sure if he was going to shake
things up with his return or get himself shaken up. But he sure as
heck planned to find out who lived behind those chicory blue
eyes.
The discovery that he'd rolled a tire off
the rim in his sideways skid did nothing to quell his
determination.
****
By the time she encountered the stranger in
the fast car, her earlier upbeat mood had degraded, thanks to the
dull heartache she'd given herself from lancing her old wound.
Ordinarily, she would have laughed off the incident and introduced
herself once she realized no one was hurt. But the moron had just
sat in his car staring in disapproval, apparently waiting for her
to move out of his all-important way.
Wherever the aggravating stranger was going,
she sincerely hoped he didn't so much as make a pit stop in Orson's
Folly. She was pretty sure another meeting of this sort would
result in her doing more than yelling at him.
Edgy with the need to dispel her jitters,
Sandy let the colt have his head again and Domingo calmed them both
by doing what he loved most, streaking at a neck-breaking pace over
the plains of western Wyoming.
By the time they slowed to a walk alongside
the fence leading to the stable yard, her ire at the stranger on
the road had mellowed to mild interest in whom he might have been.
The sun was resting in the cradle between the peaks of two
mountains, lingering shafts of red casting long shadows against the
blue and white buildings. Sandy closed her eyes, bracing against
the little pinprick of pain, and allowed herself to remember the
reason she'd first come to Wyoming.
****
"You hang on, do you hear me?" she ordered.
"I won't go anywhere until they have you, I swear. But you have to
stay with me. Promise!"
"Okay . . . promise." His words were
slurred; his voice sounded weary.
Sandy struggled to think of something to
talk about—to keep him talking and alert. "Do I hear an accent,
Mick?"
His laugh was slow and soft. "Yep, I'm
afraid so. I can't seem to get the Wyoming out of my voice."
There! Something she could get him to talk
about. "Tell me about Wyoming," she said.
He sighed. "There's nothing like a wild
gallop across the plains on a fast horse. If you can be up on that
horse at daybreak, you feel like you're flying up to meet the day.
And to be in the Red Desert at sundown's even better. If you time
it right, just a split second before the sun's gone, you feel like
you're inside all that red and orange glow. Then in your next
breath you're standing in pitch black. When you look up, the stars
are already popping out. So many stars they blend together. And
there's always shooting stars for making wishes." He laughed
softly. "I guess I sound a little pathetic."
"No." She wished she could touch him with
more than her voice. "More like a homesick cowboy."
He was quiet for a time, then, "I guess
maybe I am, Angel. I am homesick."
His quiet admission brought tears to Sandy's
eyes, and she prayed he'd see those sunrises and sunsets and stars
again. "So you lived in the desert plains?"
"I had the best of both worlds, Angel," he
told her with an easy pride. "Our ranch is in the middle of a
finger of desert that's nestled between two legs of mountains and
forest."
She could hear the love in his voice as he
spoke, knew he was picturing it all in his head. "Why did you
leave?"
"That's a story for another time," he said.
"I'll tell you when we're on our first date."
"Are you asking me out?"
"Oh, we'll go out." She could hear the grin
in his voice. "I was just making the plans."
Her lips twitched at his audacity.
****
Cooled and brushed, Domingo nickered a soft
goodbye as Sandy left the comfort of the stable and walked into the
cold night air.
Stars twinkled into view overhead, millions
of glistening pinpoint lights fusing into a lacy curtain of soft
illumination against the darkness. A trail of shimmery light
tracked across the sky.
For the first time in seven years, she
didn’t wish for the impossible. "I want to feel alive again."
Emotionally and physically exhausted, she
tore her eyes from the stars with a heavy sigh, and climbed into
the rusty Chevy pickup. It was older than she was by several years
so she counted her blessings it still ran. Driving past the main
homestead, Sandy tossed a wave to Justin McGee, sitting on the wide
front porch of the ranch house puffing on his nightly cigar. With a
smile and a nod, the old rancher politely touched a forefinger to
the brim of his battered tan Stetson.
Just as Sandy reached the cedar fence posts
marking the entrance to the ranch, a pair of headlights swung in
from the main road. So, the McGee men were about to receive a
caller. She wondered idly if Sean had finally convinced Melanie
Mitchell to drop by after her shift at the bar.
The two sets of headlights collided, the
bright beams briefly joining forces to split the darkness. Then the
moment was gone, leaving Sandy with a vague impression of something
low and fast before she was engulfed by the cloud of dust chasing
the other car.
Nope. She coughed against the sting in her
throat. Definitely not Mel, who tended to drive her ancient economy
car with the caution of a grandmother. Tough break for Sean.
****
Ryan braked in front of the old ranch house
and killed the engine. Popping open the door, he took his time
getting to his feet.
Though the land slumbered beneath a blanket
of darkness, the nighttime couldn't mask his memories. He knew just
beyond the edge of the light lay open spaces, fields of green and
gold dotted by brown-and-white cattle and rolls of cut hay, all in
the protective embrace of the Rocky Mountains to the west.
Closing his eyes, Ryan inhaled deeply,
intoxicating himself on the aromatic blend of cow manure, freshly
mown hay, and mountain wildflowers hanging in the air. The sweet,
somewhat earthy scent of home.
Overhead, a shooting star blazed a fiery arc
through the myriad of visible stars. Ryan thought of a time, so
long ago, when he and Sean had lain with their mother on a sleeping
bag, watching the stars overhead. Every time she saw a shooting
star, she had urged them to make a wish.
Just now, Ryan wished he knew what the heck
he was doing coming here.
"Not much call for such a fancy machine on a
ranch," admonished the gravelly voice from the shadow of the porch.
"But you always did love speed, didn't you, boy?"
Justin took a step forward into the light
cast by the moon.
"Hello, Dad." Ryan kept his response
respectful and reserved. Leave it to his father to act like this
was just another homecoming after a night in town. "You look
good."
Justin chuckled. "Still spreading it thick,
I see." But fondness had crept into his voice. "What I look, is
old." He nodded in the direction of the huge barns that had been
standing since before Ryan was born. "Your brother's out there
locking up . . . if you want to go find him, let him know you're
here."
The statement startled Ryan. "Since when do
McGee barns need locking?"
The old man leaned against the porch railing
and examined the tip of his cigar.
Ryan waited. It was maddening but no amount
of pushing would get his father to talk before he was ready.
Finally, Justin shrugged, fixed Ryan with a
pointed stare. "A boy goes away for sixteen years, he's bound to
see some changes when he comes back a man."
Acknowledging the well-deserved punch
straight to the heart with a silent nod, Ryan turned and strode
toward the barns.
Strong floodlights, mounted at the corners
of each building, lit the yard. Sean was clearly visible as he slid
the barn door closed and set the lock. He walked toward the stable,
a black and white dog at his heels.
Ryan stood just outside the light's edge
watching his brother, looking for a trace of the boy he'd left
behind.
The skinny boy's frame had become lean and
muscular. Glow-in-the dark blond hair had toned down some but Ryan
noticed it still had a tendency to curl at the ends even though his
brother kept it cut short. Sean had been thirteen when Ryan left.
He'd grown into a man Ryan scarcely recognized.
When Sean emerged from the stable, he
ordered the dog to stay inside. Then with powerful flexing of his
muscles, he slid the door closed. Ryan raised an eyebrow. His
little brother had developed some broad shoulders and powerful
arms. Setting the latch, Sean's hands stilled. He eased around, his
body tense, ready for anything. It had always been uncanny the way
the kid had been so acutely aware of his surroundings; it still
was.
Ryan stepped into the light. Green eyes,
identical to his own, met and held his gaze. Ryan waited, unmoving
and expressionless.
Sean's tension visibly drained. His smile
started slowly, in his eyes first, then spread to his mouth, where
it bloomed into a full grin.
"Ry!" In two long-legged strides, Sean was
in front of him. "Oh man, it's good to see you!"
In a move too sudden for Ryan to dodge, Sean
folded him into a bear hug and lifted him off his feet, his
carefree laughter driving out the last vestiges of Ryan's
uncertainty.
Ryan McGee had come home.
****
Chapter Two
A basketful of hygiene products hung a
little heavily on Sandy's arm. She idly perused the magazines at
the checkout counter while she waited for Sarah Jessup to ring up
Mamie Schmidt's order. It seemed the going rate for each item was a
full minute of gossip while the two gray-haired women caught each
other up on the goings-on in the small town since they had last
talked, which had probably been the day before.
"No mistake! It was Ryan, all right," Mamie
was insisting. "Bold as brass he walked into Ed's and placed a
considerable order for lumber and nails. Henky said he drove up all
arrogant-like in his big city sports car."
Sandy shifted her attention from the
scintillating article about sexy summer sandals to the gossip at
the cash register.
"Do you think the old man knows he's back?"
asked Sarah in a loud whisper.
"If he doesn't, he will as soon as Henky
makes the delivery. S'posed to take it out this afternoon."
Sarah glanced at the line, made brief eye
contact with Sandy, and lowered her voice until it was barely
audible. "What about the others?"
Mamie shook her head slowly. "I was
wondering that myself." She opened her giant black purse and pulled
out a crisp twenty dollar bill.
Finally, it was Sandy's turn at the
checkout, but Sarah no longer seemed in the mood to be chatty.
The line at the bank was even longer than
the one in the drugstore. Apparently it was training day for new
hire, Bertie Higgins. Nate Graham was the youngish bank manager who
had taken over a year after Sandy had moved to Orson's Folly. He
was showing incredible patience, even when he had to void each
transaction and repeat it himself. Given the direction in which his
eyes repeatedly strayed, though, Sandy suspected he was more
concerned with the young girl's bust line than her banking
abilities.