Then there was the liability issue—cold but a real concern. Should anything go wrong, having allowed Heather to work with the horses while pregnant could leave the program open to a lawsuit.
All things considered, Heather would have to leave. And the girl would have to tell her parents why. Tomorrow, after breakfast, Kira would call her into the office, lay out the realities and hand her the phone.
As Kira drove into the hospital parking lot, she closed Heather’s box and opened Dusty’s. Worries weighed on her as she hurried into the building and took the elevator to the third floor. What if the stent wasn’t working? What if the old cowboy had suffered another heart attack?
Outside the door of his room, she paused to take a deep breath. Then she gave a light rap on the door, opened it and stepped into the room. Her grandfather was sitting up in bed, finishing a dinner of roast chicken and looking almost his usual self.
Giddy with relief, she strode to his bedside and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You’re looking so much better,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“Rarin’ to get up and get the hell out of here.” His hoarse voice betrayed his weakened condition. “Fool doctor says I have to stay another couple of days. But I’ve had it with getting poked and prodded and eating this damned hospital food. Maybe the next time you come, you could smuggle me in some of Consuelo’s tamales.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Kira pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. “Meanwhile, don’t tax yourself worrying or trying to get up. The nurse says the best thing for your heart is rest.”
“Rest! Hell, I’m going stir-crazy!” He reached out and pressed her hand. “How are things at the ranch? Is Jake working out all right?”
“Jake’s been a lot of help. He can’t lecture like you do, and he still doesn’t like horses much, but he runs those students like they’re new recruits at boot camp—and they eat it up. It’s like they think he’s Superman.”
Dusty grinned. “I knew that bringing Jake to the ranch would turn out to be a good thing. How’s Paige doing?”
“She tags around after him like a little puppy.” Should she tell Dusty about her concern that Paige was headed for a broken heart? But why worry the old man now, when the last thing he needed was stress?
“Paige still doesn’t know he’s her father?”
“I don’t think Jake wants her to know—ever. He’s still not planning to stay.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes, the day after he arrived.” She remembered their early-morning clash on the canyon trail. “But he does mean to repay you before he leaves. So he should be around for a while—at least until you’re back on your feet.”
“I see.” Dusty looked disappointed. “How’s he dealing with the PTSD?”
“It’s there. But he does a good job of masking it around Paige and the students.”
“I was hoping that being on the ranch, with the horses, might help him.”
“It might. But that remains to be seen.” Kira rose. “I’m wearing you out. It’s time I drove home and let you get some rest. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow.”
“Bring Jake next time,” Dusty said. “Or send him in your place if you can’t leave the kids. I could use a word with him.”
“Of course. Rest easy.” Kira brushed a kiss across his forehead and left. On the way to the car, she found herself wondering about her grandfather’s intent. Had Dusty known all along that he had a bad heart? Was that why he’d gone to so much trouble to find Jake and bring him to the ranch, so someone would be there to help her? Had he done it for her, for Paige or for Jake himself?
She took her time driving back to the ranch, stopping for more donuts, playing the radio and doing her best to clear her head. Tonight, in her absence, the students were being treated to an outdoor cookout, with a blaze in the big fire pit east of the house. They’d be roasting hot dogs and toasting marshmallows to make s’mores for dessert. If Dusty had been there, he would have regaled them with stories of his rodeo days. Jake didn’t have that background, and Kira knew he wouldn’t want to talk about the war. But she had little doubt that her charges were in capable hands.
It was ten fifteen when she pulled through the side gate and parked her car in the vehicle shed. From there she could see the glow of the burning fire, but no one was moving in the yard. Except for the front-porch light and the dimmed lamp in the living room, the house windows were dark.
As she walked closer, a lone figure rose from one of the stone benches that rimmed the fire pit. Silhouetted against the flames, Jake stood waiting.
* * *
By the time Kira finally showed up, Jake had begun to worry about her. A
lone woman on the road after dark—anything could go wrong. An accident, a blown tire or car trouble could leave her vulnerable to any human predator who happened along. He’d tried to tell himself he was being ridiculous, that Kira was a strong, capable woman who could take care of herself. But overprotectiveness was one aspect of his PTSD. And it wasn’t something he could turn off like a switch. He’d lost too many good men on his watch—men he cared about as friends and brothers. Now, whether he liked it or not, he was beginning to care about Kira.
About her, not for her.
It wasn’t the same thing, he reminded himself as she walked into sight. He wasn’t fit for a romantic relationship with any woman. But the relief he’d felt at the sound of her car was strong enough to make his pulse leap.
The firelight sharpened the planes of her face and veiled her eyes in shadow. She was a protector, too, watching over everyone and everything on this small ranch. Tonight she looked as if she needed a break, Jake thought. When was the last time anyone had protected her, or cradled her in his arms and made her feel that it was all right to let go?