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WILEY COULD TELL MACY all he wanted not to be upset about Charlie, but that didn’t mean she’d listen. After hanging up the phone, she bundled Henry into his car seat, then drove Clem’s more-rust-than-red pickup the short way to Wiley’s grandfather’s cabin.
The dust from her fishtailed parking job hadn’t yet settled when she leapt from the truck to pluck Henry from his seat and into her arms, then met Wiley where he stood glowering in front of the barn.
“I told you this wasn’t an emergency.” He tugged the brim of his straw cowboy hat. “There was no need to drive over—let alone, drive all crazy.”
“Where is he?”
“In the barn, but—”
“Thanks. That’s all I need to know.” She wasn’t in the mood to decipher what Wiley may or may not deem a serious injury. When it came to her grandfather’s llamas, Macy considered them family, just like she’d told her mom.
She tugged open the heavy barn door, then paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the shadowy light.
Thankfully, the first thing she saw was Charlie, contentedly munching feed from a tin bucket. His leg was scratched from his tussle with the barbed wire, but as long as it was treated to ward off possible infection, he’d no doubt live to escape another day.
“You scared me,” she said to the infuriating, yet lovable creature. She tried hugging his furry neck, but he wrestled free before returning to his meal.
“Told you he’ll be fine,” Wiley said from behind her. “The vet’s on his way.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m just sorry it happened. Charlie got into Gramp’s old junk pile. I’ll get someone over here to haul all of it off. In the meantime, guess we should look over your fences to see how your escape artist keeps getting out.”
“Sure.” We? Wiley was the last person she’d expect to propose a group project. But now that he had, she wasn’t sure how that made her feel—especially when she once again detected alcohol on his breath. Part of her wanted to be near him—no matter what they were doing. Another part felt wary. Since her breakup with Rex, she hated the way loneliness sometimes compelled her to strike up longer-than-necessary conversations with everyone from grocery store clerks to Henry’s pediatrician. The last thing she wanted in regard to Wiley was to confuse neediness for attraction. “I’m free most any day, but Saturday.”
“What happens then?” he asked.
“Henry and I visit Dot. You should come with us some time—I mean, if you want.” The moment the suggestion left her mouth, Macy mentally kicked herself. Backpedaling, she said, “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to. Grandma probably wouldn’t even remember you.”
“Actually, it’d be nice seeing a familiar face. Hard to believe we’re the last ones standing on this old mountain.”
“I know, right?” The fact made her terribly sad, so she changed the subject. “How long ago did you call Doc Carthage?”
“Just before I got ahold of you. He was looking in on a sick calf over in Blue Valley. It’ll probably be at least thirty to forty minutes before he gets out here. Want to head home, and I’ll give you a holler when he shows?”
“I suppose that would work.” Craving company, she’d like nothing more than to stay—maybe play cards or simply reminisce about happier times, but since Wiley had suggested she leave, did that mean that’s what he preferred?
“Great,” he said. “I’m sure you’re busy, so—”
“Not particularly.” Henry’s weight made her arm muscles burn.
“Oh, well...” They left the barn to stand in the yard’s warm sun.
“This is the part when you’re supposed to say ‘in that case, how about joining me on the front porch for a nice, cool glass of tea or lemonade?’”
He winced. “That would be the civilized thing to do, only I’m fresh out of any beverages besides water, beer and Jim Beam.”
“Right about now, any of those would do.” She’d meant her statement to be funny, but considering he made her feel like a nervous teenager, she realized she meant what she said. And so she figured why not venture a step further into their land of social awkwardness. “Remember the night of your high school graduation?”
“How could I forget the night my folks died?”
“Right. Sorry.” She’d been angling to see if he remembered their almost-kiss, so ashamed didn’t begin to describe how low her spirits dipped upon realizing that of course he wouldn’t remember something so inconsequential in light of what happened only a few hours later.
“It’s okay.” He kicked a pebble near the toe of his boot. “I mean, it’s not, but you know what I mean. What part of the night were you talking about?”
Her cheeks blazed.
“Because there’s an awful lot I recall besides what happened to Mom and Dad.”
Was it possible he’d thought about their dance in the rain as many times as she had?
“Your daddy still hate me?”
His direct question made her laugh. “Hate’s a strong word, but...”
Wiley laughed, too. “Can’t say I blame him. I wouldn’t have been much good for you then, and I’m a whole lot worse now.”
“Says who?” Her pulse roared in her ears like a jet engine.
“Common sense.”
“I never had much.”
“True,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I recall daring you to jump off Myer’s Bluff—never for a second thinking you’d do it, but you did. The water in that swimming hole had to be barely above freezing. Took me damn near an hour’s worth of holding you to get your teeth to stop chattering.”
She grinned. “Ever think maybe I just liked being held?”
“Talk like that—” he bowed his head, but couldn’t hide his smile “—is liable to lead to trouble.”
“Maybe I like that, too.”
“Macy Shelton, Dot was always threatening to wash your sassy mouth out with soap, and now I remember why. You can’t run around saying things like that.”
“True. But I’m not running—just standing here in the sun with an old friend. What’s the harm in that?” He was so handsome, looking at him might as well have been a dream. Macy didn’t have a clue what had all of a sudden turned her so brazen, nor did she care. All that really mattered was that she was tired of being alone, and no matter what her father said, the fact that fortune had chosen now to bring Wiley back into her life had to be a sign.
“Lord...” He took off his hat, wiping his sweaty brow with his forearm. “That always was your problem. You liked playing with fire, but at least had Clem and Dot around to make sure you didn’t get burned. Only now, you’re a single mom, charged with this little guy’s care.” He jiggled Henry’s left sneaker-clad foot. “Make no mistake, Macy, I’ll always be your friend, but I’m also the worst kind of guy—guaranteed to bring you nothing but pain.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_57b366ec-bac9-573c-8416-6890400e7d00)
“You were right to call.” Randall Carthage had been the veterinarian for the Eagle Ridge area for as long as Wiley could remember. His tall, wiry build didn’t quite match his shock of white hair or Santa-worthy beard, which was why when he played the jolly old guy each holiday season, he had to add lots of padding to the moldy costume that had probably been used back when Wiley’s dad had been a little boy. “He’ll be fine, but to be on the safe side, let’s give him some salve and a round of antibiotics.”
“Thank you.” When Macy held her baby on her hip while gifting the vet with a one-armed hug, Wiley fought a jealous pang. For an irrational flash, he wanted to be on the receiving end of her gratitude. “Charlie’s a mess, but I love him.”
The vet stroked the animal’s side, and the miserable beast didn’t stomp or spit.
Wiley asked, “How come I’m the only one who draws out Charlie’s nasty side?”
The vet laughed. “Don’t take it personal. Maybe he’s partial to the fairer sex. Although, if that is the case, I’m not sure what that means about him getting along with an old codger like me.” He winked at Macy. “Now, Wiley, if you don’t mind, let’s hold him in your barn overnight to keep him calm, and then, if he seems all right in the morning, go ahead and walk him over to his pasture.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Wiley asked. “The beast can’t stand me.”
“All right, well, Macy can put a lead rope on Charlie, and you hold the baby. Will that work?”
“Sounds good to me.” Macy jiggled her son. “What do you think, Henry?”
The baby cooed.
Wiley’s chest tightened.
While Macy and the vet talked llamas, Wiley recalled the last time he’d been around an infant—his friend Grady’s Oklahoma housewarming. A bunch of the guys from their SEAL team had flown in for the event that had been held on Grady’s family ranch. Just a few months earlier and Wiley’s whole life had been different—better in every conceivable way. Holding Grady’s infant son on that warm, spring day beneath the vast Oklahoma sky, he’d had his whole life ahead of him. He’d been surrounded by longtime SEAL friends and their families. Cooper and Millie. Heath and Libby. Mason and Hattie. He’d been thrilled for his married friends, but welcomed the companionship of his single friends Marsh and Rowdy. They’d all fished and grilled and downed too many beers and in general did plenty of good man shit until Mason’s bossy wife told them all to shut up before they woke the sleeping kids.
Crazy how fast everything could change.
His life had been measured in tragedies—first third, his folks dying. Second third—his career going to shit. For the rest of his life, he figured he’d live alone on this piece of land that was more rock than dirt, and then he’d die.
“Who gets the pleasure of paying for my good looks and company?” Randall asked.
“Me.” Macy raised her hand.
“I’ll take care of it, Doc. It was my barbed wire.” Before Macy could launch an argument, Wiley took his wallet from his jeans back pocket and fished out a hundred bucks. “Will this cover it?”
The vet nodded. “Macy, I’ll come to your place tomorrow to give him more antibiotic.”
“Thanks again.”
He waved on his way to his truck. “No problem. Oh—Wiley, wonder if you might do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“If you don’t mind, follow me, and I’ll explain.”
“Should I be worried?” Wiley asked. Maybe he ought to have asked what the favor entailed before agreeing?
“Nah...” Randall’s low, throaty chuckle had Wiley thinking the opposite. At his truck, the doc walked around to the tailgate, springing it open before tugging on a wire mesh cage.
It took Wiley a few minutes to hobble that way, but by the time he’d caught up with Randall, it didn’t take much to get the gist of the old man’s favor. “Oh, no... If you want me to give a home to this—”
“Now, Wiley, don’t you start makin’ excuses before I’ve even explained what I need.” Inside the cage was a momma hound dog and four pups that still had their eyes closed. “Some damned fool left this little lady on the clinic’s front porch, and I need someone to keep her till I can find a suitable home. Your granddad used to take in strays. I figure since you’ve got that big empty barn, well, that would make for a whole lot of space for this beauty and her family.”
“Doc, look...” Wiley shoved his hands in his pockets while searching for the right thing to say. “I would, but—”
“Nope. Stop right there. We’re a tight-knit community, and in case you forgot in the time you were gone, we all help out where we can. Now, down at the VFW, there’s been talk about your leg, but last I heard, a poor helpless animal doesn’t care how it gets fed, just that the food comes in a timely manner.”
“Randall...” Wiley had a tough enough time looking after himself. How was he supposed to care for anything else? Especially a dog and her pups?
“You’ll do it? Good man!” He slapped Wiley’s back. “I’m proud of you, son. Your granddad would be, too. Now, give me a hand hauling our momma to her new temporary home.”
Wiley’s stomach churned. “It’s just for a few days, right? You’ll put out word that she needs a permanent home?”
“Oh, sure, sure. I’ll get right on it.”
Together, they tugged the cage from the truck bed, then shuffled back to the barn where the vet led Wiley to a quiet corner in a patch of sun.
“Look, Henry! Puppies!” Macy zeroed in on the cage.
Henry stared in awe. The more the puppies wriggled and whined, the wider Henry grinned until Macy had to use her sleeve to wipe drool from his chin.
The vision of Macy and her child kneeling in dust-mote-infused sunbeams rendered Wiley incapable of focusing on anything but them—their purity and sweetness and light. His breath caught in his throat, and it took a beat to come to his senses. Macy and her boy might be a beautiful sight to behold, but they had no place in his carefully structured life of isolation. Since his accident, since witnessing death after death, he was no longer in the business of living—only forgetting.
“Doc,” he said to Randall. “It’d probably be best for this momma and her pups to move a ways farther down the hill. Little Henry’s already taken with the whole lot.”
“Oh, no.” Macy plucked up her son and backed away. “We’ll be happy to stop in for visits, but between caring for an eight-month-old, an ornery llama herd, a shameful garden and a house in constant need of work, my plate’s plenty full.”
“That settles it.” Randall patted Wiley on the back again. “Macy, I’ll be ’round tomorrow to check on Charlie.”
“Come during lunch and I’ll have something made for you.”
“Will do!” He waved on his way to his truck. After hefting a large sack of dog food from the truck bed, he left it on the dirt drive, then took off in a cloud of dust.
Cursing under his breath, Wiley hobbled to the food. He’d lost so much upper body strength, he struggled to even heft the damned bag over his shoulder, but he eventually managed, hating that the whole while he’d had an audience.
“Let me help.” Macy, with that baby of hers bouncing on her hip, charged toward him.
“Do I look like such a cripple that you think you can do better with no hands?” Another fine sheen of sweat had popped out on his forehead from the strain, but he managed. With the bag near the dogs, he used his pocketknife to open it, then found an old chicken-feed scoop and shallow metal pan to fill. Pain shot up his back and down his leg, but he’d be damned if he’d let his uninvited guest see him hurting. After Macy left, there’d be plenty of time to self-medicate with a lunch of Jim Beam followed by an afternoon nap.
The whole time he worked, she stood at the barn’s double doors, backlit by morning sun.
The weight of her stare hurt just as bad as his physical pain. Used to be, she’d looked at him out of admiration. Now, no doubt she felt nothing but a complete lack of respect and pity.
“Take a picture,” he snapped while filling a water pan from the spigot. “It’ll last longer.”
“Why are you doing this?” She sat on a hay bale, positioning the baby on her lap.
Henry only had eyes for the wriggling, whining puppies and waved in that direction.
“You should probably get your kid out of here. Too many germs.”
She sighed. “Practically all my life, Wiley James, you’ve been a horse’s behind, but lately it’s gotten out of hand. You show glimmers of the man I know you could be, but—”
“Did I ask for a therapy session?”
“Did I ask to get my head bit off? Don’t forget, the only reason I’m even here is because you’ve got a dangerous junk heap in your yard.”
“Oh—that’s rich. Point of fact—if you’d learn to keep your goddamned llama on your own—”
Henry’s little mouth puckered and he whimpered a few times before launching into full-blown tears.
She turned him around, cradling him to her chest. “Now, look what you did. He’s not accustomed to raised voices.”
