Chapter Ten
June 3
“Hey, how are you doing?” Lea asked, entering Logan’s room the next morning at 8:45, wanting to hear what Dr. Ribas had to say about Logan’s condition. In Lea’s left hand was a brown paper sack with a fresh set of clothing.
Logan was finishing off breakfast from his tray. His skin color looked closer to normal; she was sure shock was still a part of the issue with why he still didn’t look like his chipper self. At her voice, he looked up.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he muttered, pushing away the half-eaten tray of food. “Nine a.m. can’t come soon enough.”
She left the door ajar and came around the bed, sitting down in a nearby chair. “Wanting to escape, huh?” she teased, smiling over at him.
“Hardly slept. The nurses kept coming in all night long. I’m pretty grumpy.”
“I couldn’t tell,” she deadpanned, hanging her purse over the chair. “Jody and a couple of wranglers are getting your bedroom set up for your healing ankle,” she said, motioning toward the contraption beneath the blankets. “And Barry said everything’s fine. Nothing going on. Just routine stuff, so don’t start worrying about it. Okay?”
“Good to know. I’ll be glad to get home.”
“No place like home,” Lea agreed. She saw how the hospital gown stretched across his broad shoulders. He hadn’t shaved and the darkness gave him, in her opinion, a sexy look that pulled at her. No longer fighting the idea that she was truly drawn to him, man to woman, she hadn’t slept well last night, worrying over this ongoing discovery. What was she going to do? The job he’d given her meant so much to her; a way to show the world that she was capable of the same artistry as her father, and therefore, employable. A part of her felt tugged in that direction, to take care of herself fully, on her own, to prove to herself, to her parents, that she no longer needed to lean on them and their resources. No, this was a make-or-break situation for her and Lea knew it. And she wasn’t about to go home without accomplishing what she set out to do here in Wyoming.
“Good morning,” Dr. Ribas said, opening the door. With her were two nurses. “How are you doing, Logan?” She opened her iPad and tapped it, bringing up all his patient information from the night before.
“Hi, Doc. I’m grumpy. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Understandable.” She quickly went over his record and then looked up. “Any pain in your ankle?”
“No, that medication seems to stop it pretty good.”
“Well, you get five days on it, and then I’m transferring you to something else.”
“That’s fine,” Logan said. “So? When can I get out of here? Not that I’m not grateful to you and your staff for putting my ankle back together.”
She grinned. “How about right now?” She nodded to the head nurse and they went to his bed. An orderly brought in a wheelchair.
“Sounds good to me,” he said, relieved.
“I’ll have the nurses get you unplugged from all these monitors and ask that Lea get your clean clothes out of that sack she brought with her. She’ll help you get them on. Or? Or, do you want Chuck, our orderly here, to help you instead?”
Lea gulped inwardly. And then she told herself she had to do it. “No problem, Dr. Ribas. I’ll get him dressed. I need practice since I’ll be helping him for the next month.”
“Right you are,” Ribas agreed. “Chuck will wait outside until you’re ready to leave. According to hospital regulations, he has to wheel you out to the curb, Logan. Lea, if you want, after you’re done dressing him, go to the parking lot and bring your car or truck up to the front of the hospital.”
“Good idea,” Lea said, rising.
“The nurse will give you a bunch of instructions to take home with you, Logan. I expect to see you at my office in seven days and we’ll check on your ankle and how you’re doing.”
“Music to my ears,” he teased.
“Jody already has that aluminum metal frame, which she picked up at the medical supply business in town for you, yesterday,” she added. “I don’t want any weight or pressure on that ankle for a month. You’ll get used to having it be your best friend for a bit.” She grinned.
“That’s nice of Jody to do that,” Logan said.
“She’s special,” the doctor agreed. “I’ll see you in a week, Logan.” She raised her hand and left.
They were alone, the door shut. Lea forced herself around the bed. She saw Logan perk up, relief in his expression. She understood what home meant to him. “Let me get the bed covers pulled away and then I need to remove that metal frame.”
“Right.” He gave her a worried look. “Are you okay with this?”
“Well,” she said in jest, “I need to be. Don’t you think? You aren’t going to be able to pull up your jeans by yourself. The material has to be carefully worked up and over that cast. Dr. Ribas doesn’t want any pressure on your ankle while it’s healing for the first four weeks.” She saw he was concerned. Maybe he hadn’t thought his ankle would be a deterrent to hauling on his clothing over it. The best way to get through this was to pretend it didn’t bother her. Would she see him naked? That made her run hot and cold. More to the hot range, if she were honest with herself.
“Let me know if this gets too embarrassing for you, okay?”
She walked over and pulled the bedsheets down to the footboard. Logan smoothed his gown over his knees and she appreciated him being circumspect about it. “Okay,” she murmured, taking the frame away. His cast was mobile and waterproof, according to the nurse. But it was bulky, even though it wasn’t very heavy. The cast encased the lower half of his foot and went half way up his leg. It was removable, and that was good news to Lea.
“Can you sit up, turn, and put your legs over the edge of the bed?” she asked.
“I hope so,” he muttered. “This lying around isn’t my idea of fun.” He slowly lifted his legs, turning his large body, able to drape his long legs over the edge of the mattress.
Lea saw him grimace as he slowly lowered his legs to the floor. “Are you in pain?”
“Just a lot of pressure in the foot,” he said, frowning. “Blood flowing downward into it. Gravity at work.”
Lea brought the skivvies and Levi’s around and laid them on the bed.
“I can do the skivvies,” he protested. “You won’t have to help me with that. Just the jeans . . .”
“Dr. Ribas was sure you would need help, Logan. So? Let me?”
“No,” he said, and grabbed the skivvies. “I can do this.” He started to lean forward, but didn’t stop.
If Lea hadn’t been beside him, he’d have crashed to the floor. Probably injuring his newly fixed ankle once again. “Whoa,” she murmured, gripping his shoulder, feeling the play of muscles beneath his gown. “Did you get dizzy?”
“Yes,” he growled, gripping the edge of the bed with his hands. “I didn’t expect that . . .”
“I think Dr. Ribas did. Okay if I let you go, or do you still feel dizzy?”
“No,” he said unhappily, “it went away. I’ll just sit here for a moment . . .”
She knelt at his feet. Her heart was pounding because he was embarrassed and so was she, but Lea wasn’t about to show her shakiness. “Lift your left foot and I’ll slide your skivvies on,” she coaxed quietly.
Logan obeyed. “That was the easy one. Is that other opening big enough to get over this cast?”
She studied it. “I think so. We’ll see. Lift your right leg?”
He did, but not very far off the floor because it was such an effort for him. Gently, she slid the other side up his foot, being very careful to widen the opening so it wouldn’t hit the cast. Once past that point, she slid them to his knees. His hands immediately closed over hers.
“Okay, I got this. Why don’t you stand and turn around? I’ll get these up the rest of the way.”
She grinned. “Good idea.” She stood.
“This might take some time,” he warned.
“I have all day, Logan.” She stepped well out of his way in case he wanted to stretch out his legs.
He managed a tight chuckle. “This isn’t funny.”
“No, I’m laughing because of nerves,” she admitted, facing the door. “I’ve never dressed a man before.”
“And I’ve never had a woman dress me either. But I guess my mother sure did when I was a baby.”
“But you have no memories of that, so this is new to both of us.”
“You doing all right?” he wondered.
She could hear him moving around the bed, the bed groaning now and then.
“This is tougher than I thought,” he griped.
“Take your time,” she soothed. And then she laughed a little. “You could go commando, you know?”
Logan snorted. “No way. You can’t ride in a saddle that way, that’s for sure.”
“I can imagine. Not a sight for sore eyes . . .”
He managed a short laugh. “You have a deadly sense of humor in serious situations.”
“Black humor,” she informed him archly. “How are you doing? I hear you breathing hard.”
“Not from lust, believe me.”
Cracking up, she laughed heartily. “But things are moving along, Logan? Right?”
“They’re moving, just not as quickly as I want.”
“Do you feel like a flounder out of water?”
“Better believe it . . . okay . . . I got them on. Turn around. Let’s try those jeans next.”
When Lea turned, she saw he was sitting upright, the hem of the gown draped over his knees. There were beads of sweat on his wrinkled brow. “You’re going to get your exercise, no question,” she commented, picking up the Levi’s and kneeling in front of him once more.
“I’d rather do this than just be lying in this damned bed. I can hardly wait to get out of here.”
For the next ten minutes, they both struggled with his jeans. His cast was snug in the jeans, but still had a bit of wiggle room, which was good as far as Lea was concerned. “Lucky thing you don’t wear those narrow stovepipe type of jeans,” she told him, pulling up the last of the fabric so it bunched at his knees. Standing, she said, “This time, I think you need to lie on your back, Logan, and stretch out. Then, use your left foot, draw the fabric up to your butt, lift your right leg and pull the jeans upward.”
“Turn around,” he said gruffly.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” she said, trying to sound light about the situation that had her heart beating rapidly. And it sure wasn’t from anxiety! Just touching the hard, warm flesh of his left leg, the dark hair upon it, was doing something to her lower body, making it clench. Turning her back to him, she gulped several times, trying to subdue her escaping primal feelings, wants, and needs. She wrapped her arms across her chest and she heard the bed creak and groan as he wrestled with the jeans.
“Okay,” he huffed, “they’re on. You can turn around. Can you hand me that white T-shirt?”
A quick glance told Lea that he indeed had his clean Levi’s on, although the right lower leg was puffed out with the cast. “Are you in any pain?” She sure was! His gown was bunched around his lap, hiding his powerful upper body.
“Just griping, that’s all. No big deal.” He opened his hand to receive the T-shirt. “Can you get those ties in back? Someone knotted them and I can’t reach them.”
“Sure,” she said, coming around to the opposite side of the bed. Her hands shook and she forcefully willed them to stop. Indeed, those three ties were knotted, not just tied for easy release. Her fingertips accidentally brushed his warm, firm flesh and it was a silent pleasure for Lea. He didn’t react to the grazing touches as she undid all three of the ties. “There,” she said, a little breathlessly, “you’re free,” and she slid her hands beneath the gown, easing it across his broad, capable shoulders and onto his upper arms.
“Thanks,” he grunted, grabbing the gown and pulling it off, as if it was vermin he had to wear, dropping it onto his pillow. On went the white T-shirt.
Lea handed him a blue chambray cowboy shirt that had pearl snaps on the front of it, and then stood back, watching him. This man worked hard, daily. There was no doubt. In moments, he had the shirt on and was snapping it shut.
Taking a deep breath, Lea hoped she didn’t look rattled or wanton and he couldn’t read her mind as she walked around in front of him. “Now for the tough part,” she warned him. “Your boots.”
“The doc only wanted me to wear the left one,” he muttered, shaking his head. “My right foot isn’t swollen, is it, Lea? Can you check it out?”
“You see that one sock in the seat of your wheelchair?” she asked, pointing to it.
His brows dipped and he glared at it. “Looks like an Energizer Bunny. It’s pink, of all colors. And it looks like a blimp.”
Chuckling, she went over and picked it up. “I brought you a pair of dark blue socks from home, and you can wear them, but the pink bunny gets put on your right foot. Dr. Ribas said she wants all the circulation your body can muster in that foot, not a tight-fitting sock over your foot.” She tried not to smile as she picked up the thick, fuzzy pink thing. “I’ll ask the orderly if they have any other colors available, okay?”
“Yeah, I’m not wearing pink.”
She couldn’t help laughing as she gently eased the dark blue sock on Logan’s right foot. “Your toes are cold,” she noted, easing the sock on.
“Not from lack of circulation,” he corrected, giving her a scowl.
“Okay, if you say so.” She put the other blue sock on and then rose. “The orderly is outside, waiting for us.” Picking up the pink sock, she said lightly, “I’ll go out and ask him if he has any other color.”
Opening and closing the door, she found the young man waiting. Holding up the pink sock, he grinned.
“Hey,” he said, shrugging, “it’s the only color left.”
“No one wanted to wear a pink sock?” she teased, smiling.
“No, ma’am. The guys all made me take them back. We had some black ones, but they’re on back order. I’m sorry, that’s all that’s left. The order’s supposed to be in, two weeks from now.”
“Oh, Logan’s going to love this explanation,” she said.
“I wouldn’t wear it either,” the orderly admitted wryly, grinning.
“Well, he’s going to have to. Doctor’s orders. I’ll be bringing him out in about ten minutes.”
Reentering the room, the pink sock in hand, she saw Logan stare at it.
“You know, I have this awful, sinking feeling that I’m gonna have to wear that monstrosity.”
Giggling, she turned and shut the door. “Yep, you are, cowboy. Doctor’s orders, too. The orderly said there’s a black one on backorder.”
“Did he say when it was coming in?”
She knelt down and carefully eased the pink sock onto his foot. “Two weeks.”
“This is embarrassing. What will my wranglers say when they see me with this fuzzy pink damned thing?” He jabbed an index finger down at it.
Lea enjoyed touching him. A lot. Keeping it to herself, she tried to remain lighthearted about the pink abomination. “The Energizer Bunny is male. He’s all pink.”
Snorting, he muttered, “I’m not a rabbit.”
Rising, she brought the wheelchair over and put the brake on each wheel so it wouldn’t move. “Let’s see what we can do about it when we get home. Okay?”
“Do you have any fuzzy socks that aren’t pink?” he asked hopefully.
“I don’t. All my winter gear is in Brookings at my parents’ home. I was planning on staying through the summer, possibly. So,” she said, tapping the chair, “all I have is summer clothing. Come on, try to stand on your left leg and slowly rise. Dr. Ribas said you could be a bit dizzy upon standing, so let me get around, and you put your arm across my shoulders when I sit next to you. Then, we’ll slowly rise together and you can maneuver yourself into the wheelchair.”
Nodding, he patted the bed next to him. “Come on. I want to get out of here.”
“Roger that,” she agreed, coming to sit down. Her body molded against his right side and she took silent pleasure in his arm hooking around her smaller shoulders. “Ready?” she asked him, trying to steady her feminine, yearning side.
“Better believe it,” he murmured.
“Okay, let’s do this,” she urged, taking his weight, and all two hundred pounds of Logan slowly began to rise. He had all his weight on his left leg, his right foot held off the floor. In moments, he had maneuvered himself with her help into the chair, sitting down carefully and trying not to jar himself in the process. Lea missed his arm as he lifted it away from her shoulders.
“Good job,” she praised, coming around and bringing down the paddles so he could rest both feet on them.
“Thanks. This is harder than I expected. I’m feeling pretty shaky physically.”
“Dr. Ribas told you that you might feel weak, muscle-wise, for the rest of today. By tomorrow,” she said, rising and walking around behind him and placing her hands on each brake and releasing them, “you should feel a little better.”
“The anesthesia?” he growled unhappily.
“Yes. She said to drink lots of liquids when you get home and flush it out of your system.”
“I’ll do that.”
Opening the door, Lea pushed Logan out to the hall, where the orderly took over. Hospital rules said an orderly had to wheel him to the front door. “I’ll go get the truck, Logan. I’ll meet you in front of the hospital.”
“Thanks,” he said, reaching out, touching her hand as she walked past him.
The unexpected contact sent heat and more wanting deep into Lea’s body. She tried to pretend it didn’t affect her. “I’ll see you downstairs,” she promised, taking the exit door to the stairs to the first floor.
* * *
Logan curdled in his frustration as the orderly maneuvered him from his wheelchair and into the cab of the truck. His broken ankle throbbed, but it couldn’t be helped. As the door shut, he said, “Cabs aren’t meant for long legs and a broken one, at that.”
Lea gave him a sympathetic look, waved thanks to the orderly, and slowly drove away from the entrance to the hospital. “It’s your fault,” she teased, trying to get him out of his dark funk over his condition. “If you weren’t so tall and didn’t have such long legs, you might fit in this cavity.”
Drawing in a deep inhale, he released it and wished he had his cowboy hat, but it was back at the ranch. “You’re right. I miss my hat.”
“Feel naked on top of your head without it?” She stopped and then, looking both ways, made a left turn that would lead them through town and out the other end of it, heading for the Wild Goose.
He pushed his fingers through his dark hair. “Do I ever.”
“You weren’t born with one on your head,” she said, giving him a quick grin, seeing that her teasing was lifting some of his obvious frustration.
“Feels like I was,” he teased back, one corner of his mouth quirking upward.
“At least you’re out of prison, that hospital. Look on the bright side, huh?”
“I’m trying to. I’ve broken bones before. I wish it had been an arm. At least I could have gotten around on two good legs and continued my daily work on the ranch.”
“It’s only six weeks, Logan, not a lifetime sentence.”
He chuckled and slid her a glance. “I didn’t realize you had this testy side to you. I like it.”
“Well,” Lea said, slowing for a stoplight, “I get this way when things are going south. Like you, I tend to go to a dark place and swirl around in it instead of looking at the other side of it for hope.”
“Yes, and it could be a lot worse. Look at Alvin.” He scowled. “Have you heard anything this morning about how he’s doing?”
“Still in the ICU.”
“Did you talk to Maddy? Did you see her?”
“I ran into her at the cafeteria when I drove in today. She’s frazzled, stressed, and exhausted. The doctors say Alvin is slowly recuperating. The good news is that if this continues in a positive direction, he’ll be in a hospital room, out of the ICU, within a few days.”
“When that happens, I want to come and see him, broken ankle or not.”
“I’ll bring you,” Lea promised, hearing the sudden emotion in his growly tone. She drove slowly through the busy morning traffic. There were plenty of trucks and a lot of out-of-state licenses on cars. “Lots of tourists in town, Logan.”
“This is the season for them. They bring fresh money into a lot of businesses. And they’re also coming for the fair.”
“How are you going to handle the fair? Who’s taking over some of what you do?”
He sighed and sat back, mouth pursed. “I’m going to ask Jody to leave her wrangling position and be my right hand in the administration of the fair. I usually do this by myself and have for many years. She knows how it runs and flows, and she can step in and do a lot of the checking on pens, corrals, the arenas, and other areas where I can’t walk to right now. I’ll rely on her eyes and ears, boots on the ground, and she’ll do a good job of it.”
“Trading a horse and saddle for a desk and paperwork,” Lea agreed. “I think I’d much rather be in the saddle.” She gave him a quick smile.
Logan nodded. “I’ve always had a head for numbers and organizing things. I take after my mother in that area. My father is like you: He needs to throw a leg over a good horse, be outside in the elements, damn the weather.”
“I don’t think I’d like riding a horse in a blizzard or a thunderstorm, but I’ve heard the wranglers talk among themselves, and they always have stories about your dad being out in the worst of weather conditions.”
“A ranch doesn’t stop working when the snow flies or a storm blows through,” Logan agreed.
“Do you enjoy being outside like your dad? Or are you happy being a supervisor and administrator in an office?”
Snorting, Logan said, “I have my dad’s love of the outdoors. Sometimes, depending upon the geography, I might take an ATV in the back of my pickup to get to places that are pretty inhospitable. Other times, me and some wranglers will haul our horses, already saddled and in the trailer, to other areas and use them instead.”
“I’ve come to realize you wear a lot of hats, Logan. I’m not sure I’d be capable of such a thing.”
“Didn’t have a choice. My mom and dad had a huge ranch with a rich history behind it, to run. They raised me to honor our family generations and to carry on what we’re well-known for.”
“Did you ever want to be something else growing up, though? A different dream for yourself?” she wondered, driving past the town. Now, it was a four-mile drive on a nearly empty highway to the Wild Goose, and she stepped down on the accelerator.
“I wanted to see the world,” he said, leaning back, relaxing. “That’s why I went into the military for four years.” He raised his hand. “Looking back on that time at my age now? It was a fantasy I was chasing.”
“What kind of fantasy?”
“Being a hero, rescuing good people from bad people.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “I found out good people are capable of murder, and bad people are capable of humanity. Nothing over in Afghanistan was black and white. It was all some color of gray, with good and bad, living and dying, all mixed together. I was a software mechanic on the Apache gunships, and we were in Helmand Province, which is the worst one to be in, in that country. Even though we had a base behind high walls of fence and concertina wire, it didn’t stop the Taliban or ISIS attacks, lobbing grenades or rockets at us from time to time. On my days off I’d work with the only charity that was left and hadn’t run back to the safety of their own country. I’d drive them into the surrounding villages and we’d deliver shoes for the children, clothing, and sometimes I’d bring in a Delos medical team to help everyone who was sick in the village. That was the only part of my time spent over there for three years that made me feel good. The rest was ugly and is still with me, I think, for the rest of my life.” He glanced at her. “Sorry for becoming maudlin.”
“Don’t be,” she whispered, touched by his sudden and unexpected personal admission. “There are times when I feel like I’m an oyster that was born without a protective shell to cover and shield myself, from people and this world that’s always at war. I can’t handle watching television or being on social media on the internet. There’s just too much bad news, and I find myself getting so upset about it that I can’t sleep at night. There’s such inhumanity and heartlessness in our world. It scares and saddens me as nothing else ever could. Where are the decent people with good hearts? Who have morals and know right from wrong?”
“There is that,” he agreed quietly. “I was glad to come home after my four-year obligation. I decided at that time that life shouldn’t be wasted. And I’m sure my dream and immaturity at eighteen when I joined the army, taught me a lot of sobering lessons. Leaving the Sandbox behind and coming back here”—he waved his hand around at the green, fenced pastures on either side of the highway—“was like coming back to heaven. We might have problems, but nothing like a war-torn country has. People of all colors have helped make Silver Creek what it is today. There’s no hatred, no racism, nothing against immigrants. The people here live in their hearts, and that’s what makes this place so special. We help one another. We don’t care what color your skin is, or what your gender is. We treat everyone with respect and as our equals. Believe me, I kissed the ground once I got back to the ranch, back to my parents, to those men and women who have worked on our ranch for twenty, thirty, or even forty years. We’re all one big family. My dad and I had a lot of talks about my time in the Sandbox. He had never gone into the military, and it helped me to put into words some of the terrible things I saw. I never told my mom because she’s a lot like you: sensitive. I didn’t want her to remember some of these things and not be able to forget them.”
“But you don’t forget them, do you?”
“No, and we had enough other young sons in the valley here who, like me, volunteered for the military. They’re all out now, back on their ranches, free of war, but will never be free of the memories that will haunt us, I’m sure, for the rest of our lives.”
“Is that why you do so much for others? I’ve been here long enough to see all that you do for the school children, for this huge fair coming up, and so many other little things that you do on a weekly basis for people in need.”
“I came back from Afghanistan swearing that I would not allow anyone to live in the squalor I saw over there. Women are treated like animals. They are seen as less than a camel or a donkey. That’s why my dad helped me draw up blueprints for the homeless, having a place where battered women and children could live and feel safe, as well. The medical clinic meant a lot to me, personally, because I’d seen the Delos teams fly in and then spend weeks in a village giving medical help to those people. We take for granted getting a pair of glasses, going to the dentist, and having our ailment fixed by a doctor or hospital. They had nothing. We have people in America who have nothing, and I was damned if it was going to happen in our valley. When I got home, we called all the ranchers together and we hammered out plans to help those who need it. We created a safety net. We brought in a vocational school for those who didn’t want to go to college. We helped them to help themselves. And over the years, I’ve seen it pay off magnificently. And maybe that’s why we’re such a melting pot of immigrants, all colors, so diverse and yet knitted together by our common humanity. Afghanistan may have changed me, but I sure as hell came home knowing that our valley was not going to be like it was. Not ever.”
“Then,” she said gently, giving him a proud look, “you saw something that needed to be fixed. You might not be able to do it in Afghanistan, but look at what your family has put into action here in Silver Creek. I was dumbfounded when you drove me around, introducing me to the town, by how many supportive places you have for the people who can’t afford to buy or rent, or who need a helping hand.”
“That was all the ranchers getting together. Our blueprint plans to make Silver Creek a place of hospitality, togetherness, and networking, makes me feel good,” Logan admitted. “There’s other ranchers who have helped these dreams turn into reality, too. It wasn’t just our Wild Goose family. We all know, by living in such a rural area of America, that no one is coming to help us in moments of crisis. We’ve all put our heads, hearts, money, and time into building these needs into reality for another type of safety net for everyone who lives here. That’s why we have one of the best rural hospitals in the state. We have been able to talk physicians and surgeons from around the country, into traveling here.”
“And Dr. Ribas is one of them,” Lea said. “I was surprised for such a small community that you would have an orthopedic surgeon on the staff. That blew me away, Logan, but I was also relieved, for your sake.”
“Yes, and if our hospital hadn’t been built and we hadn’t gone out to sell Silver Creek to professionals like Dr. Ribas, we would have to drive or fly to Cheyenne, our capital, which is hundreds of miles away, to get that kind of top medical help.”
“And today, that safety net paid off for you,” she said softly.
“Yes, it did. That hospital was built five years ago. Every big ranch pitched in, the families, the citizens of the valley, contributed and we got it done. Rural people know if they don’t work and stick together, nothing is going to happen at the federal level or in Congress to have money flow out to us, instead of the big cities or the growing population centers. We are taxpayers, but our money goes elsewhere. My dad was key in educating the population here on that fact. He was the one that went to the state legislators, to the governor and other administrators at the state level. In the end, he’d bring in twenty of the biggest ranchers in our valley and they’d meet with these men and women. We got a lot more money flowing to us as a result, because we stood as one, spoke as one, and didn’t back down.”
“Sort of a lobby?”
“We didn’t pay any lobbyist any money,” he growled. “We decided not to put our hard-earned ranch money into that dark hole that had no end of greed to it. No, we combatted that with the fact that we have so many registered voters in our county, and that it does make a difference as to whether a candidate gets voted in or not. That is what changed the equation for us: voting numbers. We have a ninety-percent turnout for voting here. When you consider the rest of America has around forty-five percent, politicians snap their heads up and listen to us because our people do vote.”
“Wise strategy,” she congratulated, slowing down, glancing in the rearview mirror. Since being hit from behind by that unknown assailant, Lea was always looking for a truck barreling down upon them. It was her own brand of PTSD. She braked and turned into the dirt roadway that would lead to the ranch proper. There was no vehicle behind her, either. She always found herself giving a relieved sigh when turning into the ranch. Who knew if that man who plowed into her was still around? And was he hired by the fracking billionaire, Polcyn? Lea knew that Logan suspected it, but couldn’t prove it. And that meant, since that was a possibility, even the sheriff, Dan Seabert, wouldn’t take it off the board because they’d never found the culprit. It was important that she remain watchful.
“Hey,” Logan said, “I like our deep, searching discussions like this. Can we continue them for the next four weeks while I recover? I like exploring your ideas, hearing of your experiences, and how you see things, Lea. It’s refreshing.”
“Oh”—she laughed, slowly moving down the road toward the main ranch house complex—“me? My world is very narrow compared to yours, Logan. I’m happy in my dad’s woodworking shop or yours, and I love being here at your ranch.”
He nodded, giving her a long, studied look. “I like seeing you happy, Lea.”
“Well,” she teased, “I’m hoping this six weeks of incarceration here at the ranch doesn’t turn you into a sour, grumpy wrangler.”
“I’m gonna have to work on that on a daily basis,” he promised. “I’ll try not to be a royal pain in the ass to you.”
Laughing, Lea slowed and the gravel crunched under the tires as she swung the vehicle around the oval and toward the white picket-fence gate. “You’ll never be a pain in the ass to me, Logan. Really. Look, there’s Barry coming out of your house. He’s glowing. I’ll bet he’s happy you’re back, too.”
Logan watched his foreman lift his hand and wave to them as he came down the steps of the porch to meet them at the gate. How he wished he had two legs to walk on and not one! Lea had had the orderly fold up the wheelchair and place it in the rear of the truck. Giving the stairs a renewed look, he realized he was going to have to get up them in the chair. Great. Just great.