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She hunkered down and gave him a hug. “It’s pretty exciting stuff, huh.”
He stared at her with a solemn expression. “Do you want to go?”
Oh, my precious son. “If you do.”
JUNE 7
Jackson, Wyoming
IT WAS LATE Friday afternoon when the small plane from Salt Lake City, Utah, started to make its descent. The pilot came on over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, you’re about to land at the only commercial airport located inside a U.S. national park.”
Johnny reached for Tracy’s hand.
“We’re flying over the Greater Yellowstone region with forests, mountains, wilderness areas and lakes as far as the eye can see. Ahead is the majestic Teton Range. You’ll see the Snake River and the plains around it in a patchwork of colors.”
Tracy found it all glorious beyond description, but when the Grand Teton came into view, knifing into the atmosphere, every passenger was struck dumb with awe.
“If you’ll look below, we’re coming up on Jackson Hole.”
Seeing it for the first time, Tracy could understand the reason for its name. It was a narrow valley surrounded by mountains and probably presented a challenge for the pilot to land safely. She clung to Johnny’s hand. Before long, their plane touched down on the tarmac and taxied to the gate.
After it came to a stop, she unclasped their seat belts. “Are you all right, honey?”
He nodded. “That was scary.”
“I agree, but we’re here safe and sound now.” She reached for her purse above the seat. “Let’s go.”
They followed the other eight passengers out the exit to the tiny terminal. The second they entered the one-story building, she heard a deep male voice call her name.
Tracy looked to her left and saw a tall, lean cowboy in jeans and a Western shirt. With his hard-muscled physique, he stood out from everyone else around him. This was no actor from a Western movie set. From his well-worn black Stetson to his cowboy boots, everything about him shouted authentic.
Johnny hugged her side. “Who’s that?” he whispered.
The thirtyish-looking stranger must have heard him because he walked over and reached out to shake Johnny’s hand. “My name’s Carson Lundgren. I’m the man who sent your mom the letter inviting you to the ranch. You have to be John.” His eyes traveled over Tracy’s son with a compassion she could feel.
He nodded.
“Have you found your stomach yet, or is it still up in the air?” His question made Johnny laugh. He couldn’t have said anything to break the ice faster. “I’ll tell you a secret. When I was your age and my grandpa took me on my first plane ride around the Teton Valley, I didn’t find my stomach for a week, but you get used to it.”
While her son was studying him in amazement, his hot blue gaze switched to Tracy. Her medium height meant she had to look up at him. He removed his hat, revealing a head of dark blond hair, attractively disheveled.
“Mrs. Baretta, it’s a pleasure to meet you and your son.”
“We’re excited to be here, Mr. Lundgren, and honored by the invitation. Please call us Johnny and Tracy.”
“Terrific. You can call me Carson.” He coughed for a few seconds. “Forgive me. I do that quite often. Something I picked up overseas. It’s not contagious.”
Johnny’s head tipped back to look at him. “You used to be a marine like my dad, huh?”
“Yup. I have a picture of him and his buddies.” He pulled a wallet from his pocket. Inside was a small packet of photos. He handed one to Johnny. “I didn’t know him, because I’d just been transferred in from another detail when the picture was taken. But I learned Tony Baretta came from a long line of firefighters and had the reputation of being the toughest marine in the unit. You can keep it.”
“Thanks.” His young voice trembled. “I loved him.”
“Of course you did, just like I loved my grandpa.”
“What about your dad?”
“My parents were killed in a freak flood when I was a baby. My grandparents raised me. After my grandma died, it was just Grandpa and me.”
“Didn’t you have cousins?”
“Nope. How about you?”
He looked at Tracy. “How many do I have, Mom?”
“Let me think. Twenty-two-and-a-half at the present counting.”
Carson’s brows lifted. “You’re lucky. I would have given anything for just one.”
That sounded like a lonely statement. Tracy looked over Johnny’s shoulder while he studied the photograph. She counted a dozen soldiers in uniform. When she found Tony, her eyes glazed over.
Johnny’s next remark surprised her because it wasn’t about his father. “You look different in a helmet.”
“We were just a bunch of metal heads.” Johnny laughed again. “None of us liked them much, but the gear kept us protected.”
“I like your cowboy hat better,” Johnny said before putting the picture in his pocket.
Carson grinned. The rugged rancher was one striking male. “Shall we get you a hat like it on our way to the ranch?”
“Could we?” Tracy hadn’t seen him exhibit this kind of excitement in over a year.
“Of course. You can’t live on a dude ranch without your duds.”
“What are duds?”
“Everything I’m wearing plus a lot of other things.”
“What other things?”
“Chaps and gloves for bull riding.”
“Do you ride bulls?” Johnny’s eyes grew huge.
“I used to when I was training for the rodeo.”
“Can I see one?”
“Sure. I’m planning on taking you to the Jackson rodeo on the last night you’re here. You’ll see barrel racing and steer wrestling too.”
“Mom!” Johnny cried out with uncontained excitement.
“Come on, partner. Let’s get your luggage and we’ll go shopping.”
“As long as you let me pay for everything,” Tracy interjected.
He shook his head. “While you’re here, we take care of everything for the kids.”
“I can’t allow that,” she insisted. “A free vacation is one thing, but I’ll be buying whatever Johnny wants or needs while we’re here.”
His blue eyes flickered before he shoved his hat back on. “Yes, ma’am.”
Johnny had to hurry to keep up with the larger-than-life cowboy whose long powerful legs reached the baggage claim in a few strides.
“I bet you’re hungry. Do you like buffalo burgers?”
“Buffalo?”
Tracy tried to hide her smile. Her son turned to her. “Mom? Are there really buffalo burgers?”
“Yes, but I’ve never eaten one.”
He looked at Carson. “Are they good?”
“Do you like hamburgers?”
“Yes.”
“Then you don’t have anything to worry about.” His lips twitched when he glanced at Tracy. “Which bags are yours?”
“The two blue ones and the matching shoulder bag.”
“Here you go.” He handed Johnny the shoulder bag and he reached for the other two. “The van’s right outside.” Her son had to be surprised, but she noticed he carried the bag like a man and kept up with Carson.
They walked outside into a beautiful, still evening. She loved the dry air, but could tell they were at a much higher elevation than they were used to. The mountain range loomed over the valley, so close she felt dwarfed by it.
Their host shot her a concerned glance. “Are you all right, Tracy?”
“I’m fine.”
“The air’s thinner than you’re used to in Ohio.”
“It isn’t that as much as the mountains. They’re so close to us, I feel like they’re pressing in.”
“I had the same feeling in reverse when we reached Afghanistan and I got off the plane with no mountains in sight where we landed. I felt like I was in a constant state of free-fall. Without landmarks, it took me a while to get my bearings.”
“Coming from a paradise like this, I can’t even imagine it. Tony and I grew up on Lake Erie. He told me that after he got there, with no water in sight, he went into shock.”
“We all did,” Carson murmured. “On every level.”
She hadn’t talked to anyone about Tony’s war experiences in a long time and hadn’t wanted to. But this was different, because Carson had made a connection by being there, too. With that photo in his pocket, her son wouldn’t forget, either.
He guided them to the dark green van. It was easy to spot, with the same logo on the side she’d seen on the envelope. He stowed their luggage in the rear, then helped her and Johnny into the backseat.
“First we’ll head to the Silver Dollar Grill for some grub.”
“What’s grub?”
“That’s what the ranch hands call food. After that, we’ll drive over to the Boot Corral and get you outfitted. I think they even sell some mustangs.”
“What are those?”
“Cap guns. When I was little I had a mustang and played like I was Hopalong Cassidy.”
“Who was he?”
“Hoppy was a straight shooter and my favorite cowboy.”
His dark head jerked around to Tracy. “Did you ever see Hoppy?”
Her quick-study son was soaking up all this fascinating information like a sponge. “When I was a little girl my father had some old Western movies and we’d watch them. Hoppy was the good guy who always played fair. He had white hair and wore a black cowboy hat.”
“Hey—” He looked at Carson. “So do you!” Johnny cried in delight.
“Yup. I wanted to be just like him.”
Tracy smiled. “He had two partners. One old duffer was called Gabby, and the young one was called Lucky. I was crazy about Lucky. He was tall and good-looking.”
Johnny giggled.
“All the girls loved Lucky,” Carson commented. “That was mushy stuff.”
“Yeah,” her son agreed with him.
“Now we know where Lucky got his name, don’t we.” Carson winked at her. “I have a couple of old Western movies on CD, and you can see him in action.”
“Can we watch it tonight?”
“No, young man,” Tracy intervened. “When we get to the ranch, we’re both going straight to bed. It’s been a long day.”
“Your mom’s right, Johnny. Tonight we’ll load you up with one of those mustangs Hoppy used to use and all the ammo you want. In a few days, when I take you out riding, we’ll scout for bad guys.”
“I’ve never been on a horse.”
“Never?”
“No.”
Those blue eyes flicked to Tracy. “How about you?”
