The Soldier's Redemption. Lee Tobin McClain
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he spent almost no time around women his age. A nice, quiet woman might be a welcome change.
Or she might be a big complication he didn’t need.
“What’s the living situation?” she asked. “You said a cabin. Where’s it located?”
He gestured west. “There’s a row of seven cabins. Small, like I said. And a little run-down. Seeing as you’re female, we’d put you on the end of the row—that’s what we did with the one female vet who stayed here—but eventually they’ll fill up, mostly with men. Veterans with issues.”
She blanched, visibly.
He waited. From the bird feeder outside his window, a chickadee scolded. The smell of mountain sage drifted in.
“What kind of issues?” Her voice came out a little husky.
“PTSD related, mostly. Some physical disabilities, too. Anything that would cause a vet to give up hope, is how the owner of the ranch puts it. We give residents a place to get their heads together, do some physical labor and help some four-legged critters who need it. The idea is to help them get back on their feet.”
She looked away, out the window, chewing on her lower lip.
He took pity. “We don’t allow any firearms. No drugs or alcohol. And we have a couple of mental health specialists and a doctor on call. Planning on a chaplain, too.” Once we start bringing in enough money to hire one, he almost added, but didn’t. “If somebody’s problems seem too much for us to handle, we refer them elsewhere.”
“I see.” She looked thoughtful.
They should’ve put what kind of nonprofit it was in the ad, to screen out people who were scared of veterans. But the truth was, they’d limited the ad to the fewest words possible, economizing.
“I can show you around,” he said. “If you like what you see, we can talk more.”
He was pretty sure that conversation wouldn’t happen, judging by the way her attitude had changed once their focus on veterans had come up.
He hoisted himself to his feet, grabbed his cane and started toward the door.
She’d stood up to follow, but when she saw him full-length, she took a step back.
It shouldn’t surprise him. Even with the inch or so he’d lost from the spinal surgery, he was still six-four. And he’d been lifting to work off some steam. Pretty much The Incredible Hulk.
It had used to work in his favor with women, at least some of them, way back when that had mattered.
“You’re military?” she asked as he gestured for her to walk out ahead of him.
“Yep.” He waited for the fake thank you for your service.
She didn’t say it. “What branch?” she asked.
He was closing the door behind them. When he turned to answer, he saw that she’d moved ahead and was kneeling down in front of a little boy who sat on the floor of the outer office, his back against the wall, holding a small gaming device.
Finn sucked in a breath, restrained a surprised exclamation, tried to compose himself.
Kid looked to be about five. Freckle faced and towheaded.
Just like Derek.
His emotions churning, he watched her tap the boy’s chin to get his attention. Odd that such a small boy had been so quiet during the, what, half hour that they’d been talking. Derek could never have done it.
“My son, Leo,” she said, glancing up at Finn. And then, to the boy: “We’re going to walk around with Mr. Gallagher. We might have a place to stay for a bit, a tiny little house.”
The boy’s eyes lit up and he opened his mouth to speak. Then he looked over at Finn and snapped it shut. He scooted farther behind his mother.
Could the kid be afraid of his limp or his cane? Could Kayla? But if she couldn’t deal with that, or her kid couldn’t, then they needed to take themselves far away from Redemption Ranch. His problems were minor compared to some of the veterans who would soon be staying here.
And beyond that, what kind of risks would a young kid face in a place like this? The vets he wasn’t really worried about, but a little kid could be trouble around dogs—if he was too afraid of them, or not afraid enough.
No kids were going to be hurt on Finn’s watch. Never again.
“This way,” he said, his voice brusque. He’d show them around, because he had said he would. Unlike a lot of people, he didn’t retract his promises.
He touched her back to guide her out. As he felt the ridge of her spine through the shirt, she looked up at him, eyes wide and startled.
He withdrew his hand immediately, his face heating. He hadn’t meant his touch to be flirtatious, but apparently it had come off some weird way.
He could already tell this wasn’t going to work.
* * *
Kayla pulled Leo close beside her as she walked ahead of the square-shouldered soldier into the open air. Her mind raced at strategic pace.
She’d gotten a good feeling about the job when she’d seen it, reading the Esperanza Springs Mountaineer in the café where they’d had an early breakfast. Live in—check. They needed a place to live. A good thousand miles away from Arkansas, remote and off the beaten path—check. That was the big priority. Work she could handle—check. She liked dogs, and she liked working hands-on.
A wholesome, healthy, happy environment that would help Leo heal... Of that, she wasn’t yet sure.
As for her own healing from her terrible marriage, she wasn’t expecting that, and it didn’t matter. She wasn’t the type to elicit love from anyone, her son the exception. She knew that for sure, now.
The man striding beside her—and how did a guy stride with a cane, anyway?—looked a little too much like her bodybuilding, short-haired, military-postured ex. Finn had spooked her son to the point where, now, Leo pressed close into her side, making it hard to walk.
But it wasn’t like she was going to become best friends with this Finn Gallagher, if she did get this job and decide to take it. It wasn’t like she’d reveal anything to him, to anyone, that could somehow lead to Mitch finding them.
The mountains rose in a semicircle around the flat basin where the ranch was situated, white streaks of snow decorating the peaks even at the end of June. There was a weathered-looking barn up ahead of them, and off to the right, a pond with a dock and a rowboat.
This place drew her in. It was beautiful, and about as far from Little Rock as they could reasonably go, given the car she was driving. If she were just basing things on geography, she’d snap this job up in a minute.
But the military angle worried her.
“Would we live there?” Leo pointed. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but in it she detected a trace of excitement.
They were approaching a small log cabin with a couple of rustic chairs on a narrow porch. As Finn had mentioned, it was the end of a row of similar structures. Sunlight glinted off its green tin roof. One of the shutters hung crooked, but other than that, the place looked sturdy enough.
“This is the cabin you’d live in if this works out,” Finn said, glancing down at Leo and then at her. “The vet who lived here before just moved out, so it should be pretty clean. Come on in.”
Inside, the cabin’s main room had a kitchen area—sink and refrigerator and stove—along the far wall. A door to one side looked like it led to a bathroom or closet. A simple, rough-hewn dining table, a couch and a couple of chairs filled up the rest of the small room. With some throw rugs and homemade curtains, it would be downright cozy.
“Sleeping loft is upstairs,” Finn said, indicating