Chapter Twenty

He wiped Miracle’s hide with a finishing cloth, pleased to see her dark gray dappled coat shine with health and cleanliness. With April at the hospital today, he’d decided to work with the skittish filly some more, even taking her to the bathing area and washing her down. To his amazement, she’d not only tolerated the bath, but had seemed to enjoy every minute. Not once did she fuss about the hose, the water, or even the sponge and soap. Mischief, on the other hand, had decided that trying to bite the water proved fun, sending a shower spraying over them all. The little imp definitely lived up to his name.

With both horses dry, he stood with Miracle, her lead rope tied to a support beam, while Mischief wandered around inside the stable, pausing now and again to snare a bite from a bale of alfalfa. She stood quietly as he groomed her, no longer the edgy, antsy horse who’d first entered his life nearly six weeks ago. Proud of her progress, he continued to dote on her, praise her and slip her food rewards at every turn.

Nearly a month had passed since he’d returned home from taking shelter with his family—a glorious time that had found April back to work and practicing as his shadow on her days off. Officially dating, they had moved their relationship along at a comfortable, if not slow, pace. He didn’t complain. After all, each day he found April more relaxed, more attentive, could see the last of her fears and concerns falling away. Thrilled at their progression, he kept the steady course, taking her out now and again, otherwise sharing their time whenever possible.

On the days she had to work, she normally drove straight home. With twelve-hour shifts, she didn’t have much downtime before she had to be up and ready the next morning. He looked forward to her nightly calls on those days, having fallen quickly into a habit of talking to her before she crawled into bed for the night. In all reality, they didn’t chatter away for too long, but he drew comfort from the knowledge she’d made it in for the night without any problems. He didn’t want to smother her or make her feel less than capable, but his protective instincts couldn’t be denied. For now, he’d be content with the phone calls. Down the road that might change.

April fit in well. She stepped up as a team player, provided humor and solace and never once asked for anything more than a simple request here and there. She was so far removed from the other women he’d been around, he found himself shaking his head in disbelief at times. Yet he found her humble honesty just as compelling as the rest of her, making for a tempting package perfectly suited to him.

She’d grown on him. Big time. He wanted her more each day. Not just for a sexual romp, but for something bigger. He cared for her, wanted to keep her safe, comfort her, love her.

Love? The word rarely crossed his mind, but he couldn’t discard the emotion fast and easily. No. While not at that point yet he didn’t doubt, given time, his feelings for the little blonde might encompass that level.

Ben loped down the center aisle, barking, interrupting his train of thought.

Dusty jerked his head up to see what was bothering the dog.

The clang of the gate latch drew his attention. Mischief whinnied and dashed over like a door greeter as an older couple walked in, but quickly paused to close the barrier behind them. Ben followed behind Mischief. Dusty glanced at the people, blinked, then stared. His parents. Here. He hadn’t seen them in over three years and in their travels, never once had they stopped by to see his place. Shock and a bit of concern ate at his gut.

Obviously deciding the people posed no threat, Ben trotted back to Dusty’s side, staying a step ahead of Miracle’s hooves as she danced around, though his focus never ventured far from the new arrivals.

Miracle shifted restlessly, her eyes whitening as the people drew near. Jerking against the rope holding her, she fought the tie. Immediately Dusty yanked on the end of the lead, undoing the half knot and setting her free. Grasping her halter, he steadied her as she nervously eyed the strangers, shoving against Dusty now and again in an effort to keep as much distance between her and the approaching people.

“It’s okay, Miracle. They won’t hurt you.” He spoke soothingly to the filly, watching her ears stand up to listen for a fleeting second, then flatten on her head once more. Good thing he didn’t have many visitors or she’d be a bundle of nerves all the time.

“Mom. Dad.” He kept his tone low and calm. “You might want to stop there for a second until I can put her back in the stall.”

A glimpse told him not only that his parents had taken his advice, standing in the middle of the row, but also that Mischief had discovered them and presently snuffled each for any sign of treats. He shook his head and grinned. The little mini didn’t have a shy bone in his body. “Come on, Miracle. Let’s get you back inside. You’ll feel more comfortable there.” Backing her up to allow her a chance to keep her attention on his visitors, he softly stroked her neck, patiently easing her fears as he led her through the open stall door. Once there, he dug out a baby carrot from his pocket. He’d loaded up that morning in preparation for the day’s activities with the pair. Hell, he’d started using them on all the horses with resounding success.

Unsnapping the lead, he waited for Miracle to take the carrot from his palm, then slipped out, shutting the door behind him. She stepped to the front of the stall, put her head over the top and whinnied loudly, an obvious summons for her friend.

Mischief ignored her, too intent upon checking out the newcomers for potential goodies while soaking up attention.

Dusty hurried their direction, curious and concerned why they were there. “What brings you two here?”

His mother looked up at him, still petting Mischief. “We wanted to see you, dear. And your stable.”

“Archer told us all about it, so we had to see it for ourselves,” his father echoed, running his hand down Mischief’s back and grinning. “Found a new mascot?”

Surprised yet pleased, Dusty shrugged and smiled. “Something like that.” Reaching their side, he met his mother with a big hug. She kissed his cheek and he realized exactly how much he’d missed them. He stuck out a hand for his father, only to be pulled into a big bear hug complete with a thump on the back.

“Damn, it’s good to see you.”

“We would have come earlier, but weren’t sure we’d have been welcome,” his mother said a bit hesitantly.

“I was a complete jackass, but know better now. Besides, you’re both a sight for sore eyes.”

Growing up, he’d loved his parents, but possessed an independent streak a mile wide. By the time he’d hit his teens, his parents had cramped his style and served as overseers and rule-makers, something he rebelled against any chance he got. Only when he’d walked completely away from the family then returned did he actually realize how much his parents really did mean to him and how deeply he missed them. Learning humility and surviving the wrenching agony of war had done wonders for his insight.

Mischief nudged his hip hard. He glanced down at the gelding. “Okay. Okay. I’ve got your carrot too.” He dug the final piece from his pocket and held it out. The little guy lipped it up and crunched loudly.

His mother giggled. “He’s cute.”

“Yeah, he is.” Grabbing Mischief’s halter, he inclined his head. “Come on in. I’ll show you around.”

Leading the miniature horse back to the stall, he opened the door and gave him a light shove. “In you go. Miracle is having a small meltdown without you.” As soon as he closed the door, he noticed the two horses nuzzling each other as if reassuring each other they were indeed all right and back together again.

“This must be the filly your brothers told me about. The abused one who’s afraid of men.” His father came closer, but still maintained a healthy distance from the gray horse.

Dusty nodded. His father had spent many hours with horses, knew stock and how to read their body language pretty well. He also knew a well-bred horse when he saw one. “She’s slowly coming around with me, but yeah, as you saw, a strange man appears and she’s totally on the defensive.”

His father’s practiced eye raked over the animals. “Too bad. She’s got some bloodlines behind her.”

“At least she clicked with April, so now she has a good home for the rest of her days. Along with her best friend, of course.”

“Where is this April? I was hoping to meet the woman your brothers spoke so highly of,” his mother said.

“Working today. She’s a nurse at the hospital. Twelve-hour shifts, so I doubt she’ll come by after work.”

“Oh.” Disappointment clearly covered his mother’s face.

Well, hell. He knew a matchmaker when he saw one. Good thing he’d already set his sights on April or he might have gotten a bit nervous himself.

“So what’s between the two of you? I couldn’t believe when Archer told me you brought her along with the horses to stay at the ranch while the fires burned nearby,” she persisted.

“Her filly does much better with her around.”

She snorted. “Dusty, I might not know much, but I know this—you can work your way around any horse on this planet without a helper. So what’s the real reason you brought her along?”

Busted. He could never get anything by his parents.

“Isn’t it obvious, Delia? The boy’s smitten.” His father grinned wickedly.

Dusty sighed. His father had spent years grilling witnesses. Judging by the look on his face, he intended to drag every morsel of truth about Dusty’s blossoming relationship with April—along with other personal details—from his lips. He straightened his spine and lifted his chin. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. No one ever pushed a SEAL to do anything he didn’t want to do. Besides, he came by his stubbornness naturally. With a sly smile, he arched an eyebrow at his father. Bring it on.

Ben stepped between Dusty and his father, keeping a close watch on the pair as he took up a protective position. Automatically, Dusty reached down to scratch behind his ears. “It’s okay, buddy. They’re my parents.”

The dog looked up at him, his dark eyes full of sympathy.

Dusty chuckled and continued to run his hands through Ben’s thick fur. “By the way, you remember Ben.”

His parents looked at the dog with interest. “Your war dog?” His father reached out a hand slowly, allowing the Belgian Malinois to sniff. “He’s an old guy now.”

“Yeah. He saved my ass so many times I couldn’t leave him behind before, and I’ll stick with him all the way to the end.” Memories flashed through his mind of nights spent on patrol or catnapping, snuggled together for warmth and security.

Respect and something akin to sadness and concern flashed across his father’s face.

Dusty stiffened. If his father dared to offer commiseration or condolences, he’d frankly lose his temper. His time with the SEALs hadn’t been easy, but had proved a life changer. He wouldn’t trade the experience for anything in the world. In fact, he considered returning to the ranks now and again, before always changing his mind. No, he and Ben had retired together for good. In the time since he’d resigned, he’d lost a step or three. While getting back in shape might be fairly easy, he’d also lost the drive. Not to mention, the scourge of war had followed him home in the form of nightmares and flashbacks. Returning would most likely worsen the situation.

Dusty shook his head, immediately discouraging any conversation. “Don’t ask.” He refused to talk about his military career, even if he could. National security and a SEAL’s oath kept his mouth shut then and now.

His father’s lips thinned.

“Dusty? Why don’t you show us around? I’d love to see the rest of the horses and find out how one runs a stable.” His mother smiled cheerfully.

He nodded, relieved with the change of topic. “Since you’ve already met these two”—he gestured toward the stall with April’s horses—“let’s move on to the end.”

By the time he finished the tour, his father’s expression had changed to one of respect and appreciation. “This is a first-class operation.”

Dusty nodded, the praise stroking his ego. His father didn’t offer compliments willy-nilly, so when he did, they definitely meant something. “Thanks. It’s been a lot of hard work, but well worth it.”

“I can see that. Between that great stud and this upscale stable, I think you’re well on your way.”

His mother bobbed her head. “It’s impressive. Not that we ever doubted your abilities.” She grinned at him.

“I know. I know. It was touch and go there for a while.” He smiled, remembering all the trouble he’d given his parents during his rebellious stage. More than once they’d moaned over the gray hairs he was giving them.

“Just remember one day, when you have kids, you’ll be paying for your raising.” Her brown eyes twinkled with mischief.

Dusty rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of kids, maybe you should sit down and tell us all about April.”

His cell rang, interrupting at a perfect time. Checking his caller ID, he answered. “Hey, Evan.”

“Dusty. What are you up to today?”

“Talking to the parents, actually.”

“Ouch.” Evan chuckled. “They were here for the past couple of days breathing down our necks. About time you had your fair share.”

“Gee, thanks. Now, what did you need?” Dusty met his father’s knowing gaze and shrugged. They all loved Evan, but he could certainly be a thorn in everyone’s side from time to time.

“Just wondering if you’ve moved on yet, so I can have my shot with April.”

“Not happening, bro.” Dusty sighed. Evan called seemingly every other day to ask the same question. He truly doubted Evan was that infatuated with April and knew that he most likely inquired just to either yank his chain or to be nosy on the status of his relationship with the little nurse. Neither option earned him any brownie points.

“Well, hell.”

“Go sniff elsewhere.”

Evan blew out a breath. “So are you bringing her for Thanksgiving?”

“Maybe. I haven’t thought much about it yet.” He hadn’t considered the traditional get-together at all. Hell, he’d just gotten back into a routine after the worst fire in forty years. Three months away sounded like forever at this stage.

“Okay. If you decide you don’t want her, I get first dibs.” Evan sounded like he could barely keep the humor from his voice.

Dusty shook his head. “Go find your own woman, pest.” With that, he clicked off.

Turning, he found his parents staring at him, each of them smiling like a Cheshire cat. He smelled a setup. “What?”

“Did you hear that, John?”

“I sure did. Dusty’s not willing to share, not even hand-me-downs.” His father shot him a knowing look.

Dusty groaned. Just great. Why me? More importantly, why weren’t his parents back at the ranch bugging the rest of his brothers about their social lives? He had enough issues of his own without two strong-willed matchmakers right on his heels. Come to think of it, when did his tough, no-nonsense attorney father turn into Cupid? Must be his mother’s romantic notions rubbing off from being together night and day for the past few years.

“Think he’s twitterpated?” his mother asked.

“Oh, definitely.”

Twitterpated? Well, shit. “I don’t think you’ve seen the house part yet.” Dusty strode through the door, more than eager to change scenery as well as topics.

Life was so much simpler alone.

But a hell of a lot more mundane too.

“This is nice.” His mother turned a full circle, taking in the small home attached to the stable. A far cry from the mansion they’d built and still lived in from time to time.

“Smart design. Keeps you close to the horses so if anything is awry, you’d know about it quick,” his father pointed out.

“It works for me.” Dusty observed their reactions carefully. No grimaces, no frowns. Simply curiosity and earnest attention.

He’d worried what they’d think about his living accommodations, considering the way they’d raised him. Wealth had bought them luxury, which they’d passed down to their sons. However, Dusty had ventured down a different path, learned basic necessities were sometimes a blessing, and preferred to leave the showcases of the rich and famous. Contentment radiated from his stable and he had no intention of returning to his previous, misspent life. Sure, the gap between him and his family had been sealed, a definite positive in the recent weeks. However, he’d figured out exactly how much the land, his land, called to him during his days away.

He opened the door to the stable and ushered his parents through. “What would you like to see next?”

“I—”

His cell phone chimed, and at the same time the radio announcer interrupted in the middle of a song. “We have breaking news. There’s been a shooting at a convenience store in Jackson Station. The school is on lockdown. The suspect was last seen running into Three Points Hospital across the street. He’s considered armed and dangerous. Please call police if you have any information.”

The text alert basically said the same thing. Dusty blew out a breath. “Three Points Hospital. April.” His gut clenched in worry and fear. He shut them both down. Running hot on emotions got people killed.

Jackson Station was still a small town, fairly rural as well, compared to bigger places like Boulder City. With a miniscule budget, the police couldn’t afford more than a chief and a handful of part-time cops, with nothing to spare for luxuries like a SWAT team or even a police dog. They’d have already called for backup and a dog, but with everyone traveling from the nearest base location of Boulder City, forty minutes away, the hostage could be long dead before they arrived. Hell, the tango could be long gone as well. Or have killed dozens of people in a bid for freedom—or just out of pure hatred.

April. Protective instincts welled up. He had to get to her. Now. Nothing else mattered.

Dusty spun on his heel and re-entered his home. Opening his closet, he pulled out a long bag, unzipped it, and quickly checked that all the parts of the rifle were intact. He had his usual bag in the truck, but decided to grab additional firepower just in case. Satisfied, he pulled a small handgun from under his pillow, tugged up his pant leg, then shoved the gun in the holster just above his ankle.

He yanked his Kevlar vest from the closet and slipped the protective device on, feeling a sense of nostalgia and security with his torso covered. His SIG remained, as always, in his shoulder holster. He never stepped outside without the weapon. Not that he imagined using the gun much in the normally quiet town, but he honestly felt vulnerable and naked without it.

His mother’s gasp carried across the room.

He finished gathering his weapons, then stood to meet his parents’ curious and worried expressions.

“What are you going to do?”

He met his father’s eyes. “Go hunting. Stay here. I should be back soon.”

“But…”

“Come on, Ben. We’ve got a job to do.” The dog, almost as if sensing the seriousness, trotted at his side. Partners to the marrow.

Without another word, he strode toward his truck.