Sunrise Canyon (New Americana 1)

“You punish them by hurting yourself. How smart is that? Think about it.”

Lanie sighed, nodded and changed the subject. “How soon do we get to ride our horses?”

“When everybody’s acquired the skills they need. Maybe by the weekend, if all goes well. Meanwhile, all of you need more practice saddling and bridling. And there’s no such thing as too much groundwork. Run along now. I’ll meet you at the stable in forty-five minutes.”

Kira accompanied the girl to the front porch and watched as she crossed the yard to her cabin. Lanie was gaining confidence here, working well with the horses, and getting along with the other students. The challenge would come when it was time for her to return home. Kira had recommended marriage counseling for the parents, to be followed by family sessions for the three of them. But there was no guarantee that her suggestions would be carried out. Lanie could return to a home environment as toxic as the one she’d left. Kira could only hope that the horse therapy would build the girl’s self-reliance enough to deal with her parents and move forward on her own.

From the direction of the stable, the sound of hammer blows rang on the sunlit air. Jake had finished organizing the contents of th

e shed and started on the stable roof, replacing the worn and missing cedar shingles. That job, and the ongoing need for his help with the horses, had left him with little free time for the motorcycle. But he’d cleared out a sheltered area in the shed where he could work on the machine. Kira was also aware that he’d spent some late nights searching online for sales of vintage parts.

They’d had few private words in the two days since the night of their canyon ride. Even on the outing to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, he’d barely spoken to her. It was as if Jake had closed a door between them. He seemed more determined than ever to repay his debt to Dusty, get the bike operational and then leave. But there was more than that to his behavior. It didn’t take a therapist to see that something was seriously wrong. Jake was sullen and withdrawn. He looked as if he’d barely slept. Kira recognized the warning signs of a meltdown.

Now, as he pounded the nails into the shingles, she could sense the pent-up anger in each blow, as if he were beating on some invisible enemy—most likely his own inner demons. She could imagine his pain. She could almost feel it.

In her practice, she’d learned to distance herself from her patients and their emotional issues. But Jake wasn’t a patient. His trouble was personal—maybe too personal.

This man was the father of the little girl she loved like her own child—a man who’d held her in his arms and kissed her until she burned with womanly hungers. But he was also a broken man—a man still in love with the memory of his dazzling wife. She couldn’t let any feelings for him cloud her judgment. She had to step back and look at him with her clinical eyes.

The reality was, Jake needed intervention before he spiraled out of control. He wouldn’t welcome her meddling. But she had every reason to step in. There was the welfare of her students to consider. She was responsible for their well-being. That meant not only keeping them physically safe but also shielding them from upsetting situations. And Paige was the most vulnerable of all. Kira would do anything to protect her.

Even more urgent was the danger to Jake himself. Suicide was all too frequent among war vets. If he were pushed to the breaking point, anything could happen.

If she approached him, would he listen to her? Or would her concern only make him more defensive? She needed backup, Kira decided. That would mean involving the one person who had the best chance of reaching him.

The backyard patio, built on the site of the filled-in swimming pool, was a private family place, surrounded by a brick wall. Consuelo’s cooking herbs grew here in pretty Mexican pots. There was a play area for Paige and a clothesline for drying linens in the sun. There was a doghouse with food and water bowls for Tucker, as well as a small picnic table and colorful outdoor chairs for sitting.

Kira found Dusty dozing in a lounge chair. His color was better than when he’d first come home, but he still seemed to need plenty of rest. She was about to turn and go, but then he opened his eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Kira said. “Go ahead and sleep. I can come back later.”

“No, I’m fine.” He levered the chair to an upright position, reached for the glass of iced sweet tea, which was on the side table, and took a sip. “Sit down. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Where do I begin? Kira glanced in the direction of the stable, where the hammer blows were still ringing from the roof.

“Is it Jake?” Dusty asked, reading her body language.

Kira nodded. “He seemed fine until a couple of days ago. And he was so excited when he found that old motorcycle. But something’s changed. I think he needs help.”

“You’re the expert,” Dusty said.

“I’m supposed to be. But I’m finding it hard to be . . .” She groped for the right word. “Objective.”

“So it’s getting personal, is it?”

“It’s always been personal. He’s not a patient. He’s Paige’s father. He’s more like family.”

“Are you saying you’ve fallen for him?” Dusty’s words rocked her, but the old cowboy had always spoken his mind.

“That would be crazy.” Kira dropped her gaze to hide the rush of heat to her face. She couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. But Jake wasn’t a man any woman should “fall” for.

“Crazy happens to the best of us, girl,” Dusty said.

“Well, that’s not why I’m here,” she said. “Jake needs to talk to somebody he trusts. And right now, that isn’t me. Things are pretty . . . tense between us.”

“So you want me to talk to him.”

“Could you try?” Kira seized her grandfather’s hand. “Jake respects you. He trusts you—at least as far as he trusts anybody. And I’m truly worried about him. Listen to those hammer blows. He sounds as if he’s about to explode.”