Redemption Ranch. Leann Harris
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walked the new horse into the stables. Sophie trailed him inside and helped unsaddle the horse.
“You said his name was Dusty.” She nodded toward the horse.
“That’s right.” Zach pulled the saddle off the gelding’s broad back. Beth got the saddle blanket and put it on the stand beside the saddle.
“What do you want?”
Beth wanted to grind her teeth. Her strategy wasn’t working. “What makes you think I want something?”
Her brother stared at her over the horse’s back. “The last time you helped me unsaddle a horse, you were eleven and wanted to pump me for information about what Mom and Dad knew about your adventure in the barn when you dropped the paint from the loft.”
Sometimes it didn’t pay to have a smart brother. “What do you know about Tyler’s background?”
“Why do you want to know?” He grabbed a curry brush and started to work on the horse’s back.
“He mentioned going from foster home to foster home.” She picked up the other brush and started on Dusty’s other side.
“Butt out, Sis. Tyler doesn’t need you to understand him. He’s doing a great job, and he’ll handle Riley.”
Zach had that look that told her she wasn’t going to get any more answers out of him. “Okay.” She put the brush back on the shelf and started to walk out of the grooming area.
Zach’s hand shot out, stopping her. “That’s it? You’re giving up?”
She rubbed Dusty’s forehead and smiled at her brother. “What do you think?”
He shook his head and turned back to the horse. “You’re not going to listen to me.”
“Remember who dragged you here.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” he mumbled as he continued brushing the horse.
* * *
After Beth finished working with her first rider, she knew she couldn’t let Riley pout the rest of the afternoon. It went against her grain. She remembered what her mother said to her father the day after her brothers had a major fight. She didn’t worry about their attitude. Just keep them busy, and the attitude would fix itself. Well, if it worked with her two stubborn brothers, it couldn’t hurt trying it with Riley. Of course, her brother would accuse her of meddling, but her heart wouldn’t allow her to ignore a child in pain, no matter how her brothers would interpret it.
Walking to the bench, she said, “Hey, Riley, I need some help.”
“Huh?”
Boys were so articulate. “C’mon, I need you to help me.”
He straightened. Dogger, who rested at his feet, sat on his haunches. “I don’t know nothin’ about horses.”
“We can change that.”
He looked around, seeing if anyone was watching.
“Just imagine all the things you can tell the kids at school. You can impress them. Brag and be the expert. And girls adore horses and the men who know about them.”
She watched him think about it, then he nodded, stood and walked into the stables.
“Okay, let’s get Brownie’s tack.”
“What?”
“Her bridle, reins and saddle blanket. We’re going to get her ready for the next rider.”
Beth explained to the boy what was needed and showed him where the little horse’s equipment was stored. She took her time to explain everything to him. Riley, in spite of himself, showed interest. When he found himself being eager, he fixed the scowl on his face.
He put the bridle on the horse, then settled the blanket on the horse’s back.
“Okay, since our rider, Chelsea is her name, is going to be riding Brownie, let’s attach each stirrup to the blanket. Remember, she’s not a tall girl.”
The boy buckled the stirrup to the blanket.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Tyler stood behind Riley.
Beth stabbed Tyler with her gaze. “We’re getting Brownie ready for her rider. I asked Riley for his help. He’s done a great job.”
Riley tried to appear bored, but his eyes twinkled.
Beth didn’t let Tyler’s questioning look stop her, and pulled Brownie’s lead reins. “C’mon, Riley, let me show you how we use side walkers to help the riders who need it.”
“I don’t know—”
She waved off the rest of the comment. “I know a little girl who’d like a young man like you to help her.”
Riley glanced over his shoulder. Tyler shrugged. Turning back to Beth, he said, “I guess I can try.”
Swallowing the grin that fought to erupt, Beth led Riley and Brownie to the mounting steps, but she could feel Tyler’s gaze burning into her back.
* * *
Tyler watched as Riley followed Beth like a puppy. He couldn’t quite believe how she charmed the kid again. The other day she got a smile out of him and now she had him out helping with one of the riders. The woman had a touch, and not only with Riley. He felt himself opening up to her, looking forward to seeing her again.
Following them to the mounting steps, he watched Beth instruct Riley. There was another adult standing ready by the steps, but she showed Riley how to help guide the girl’s shoe into the stirrup. It was too short, so Beth had Riley readjust the stirrup. The boy’s chest puffed out.
How’d the woman do it? She’d certainly captivated Dogger. Since that day, he found himself thinking about her. What was it about the woman that drew hi—Dogger. His dog didn’t offer his friendship to just anyone. He recalled the guys in his unit. Dogger accepted them all and allowed them to pet him, but the guys who were a little out of control, the dog stayed away from. And, of course, Dogger loved Paul. Dogger grieved for Paul, too.
Not only had Tyler been thinking about Beth, but he had been thinking of God, too, and his relationship with Him. Tyler had seen the Bible in the bookcase and pulled it out. He hadn’t opened it, but he’d left it on the coffee table.
Watching Riley now, Tyler saw reflections of Paul. Riley’s expression of concentration mirrored Paul’s. How often had they disarmed bombs or worked an explosion, trying to analyze how the bomb, car or pipe, was constructed.
He closed his eyes, wanting to shut out the pain. If Paul had only waited a few more seconds for him to get the right pliers…but he was sure he knew how to disarm it. In the end, it wouldn’t have mattered, since the timer was a decoy. The bomber had been in the restaurant and waited until he knew the Americans were there before he hit the remote trigger, detonating it.
The sorrow and regret slammed into Tyler, robbing him of breath. Turning, he walked through the stables and out the side door. Maybe he could outrun the pain. He’d tried to drink away the memories, but they never went away. After his last round with the drink where he landed in the hospital, the VA doctors told him if he didn’t stop, he wouldn’t have a liver. They recommended counseling to deal with the survivor’s guilt.
That afternoon he wandered into the VFW post in Denver. One of the older guys fed him and gave him milk to drink. He hadn’t had milk in years, but it reminded Tyler of his mom and dad and the farm they owned before the tornado destroyed it, killing both of them.
What would his mother think of her son if she saw him a homeless drunk? Or his grandmother who took him in after his parents’ death?
Then the veteran did the most amazing thing. He prayed with Tyler. He didn’t know how he felt about that. He’d been saved when he was in his teens,