A Hero of Her Own

She had a feeling that the issues that had torn Clay and Ryder apart were behind them and the brothers were on their way to building a new, close relationship. She was thrilled for them, but as she walked toward the stables a new sense of loneliness weighed her down.

Clay and Tamara were married and it had been obvious by the glow on Ana’s face that she and Ryder were probably not far behind. There seemed to be a marriage epidemic breaking out in Esperanza. But Jewel had not caught the bug, and felt immune to anything even remotely romantic.

On more than one occasion Deputy Adam Rawlings had made it clear that he was interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with her. They’d seen each other socially several times but, try as she might, she just didn’t feel more than friendship for him. Besides, with the nightmares she’d been suffering on a regular basis, she was probably better off alone. No man would want to spend his nights with her while she was haunted by ghosts from her past.

She dismissed all thoughts of romance from her mind as she entered the stables. The kids were just finishing up brushing down their horses and Burt approached her with a friendly smile.

“They’re just about done,” he said.

“How did Kelsey do?” she asked, hoping the new girl had opened up a bit.

“Never said a word to anyone, but she’s got a natural seat in the saddle. She grow up around horses?”

“No, just the opposite. She’s an inner-city kid, probably has never been on a horse in her life,” Jewel replied.

Burt looked over to where Kelsey was working on the horse, a look of fierce concentration on her face. “She shows all the signs of being a born rider. I hope she sticks around long enough for me to work with her more extensively.”

“She’s not going anywhere for a while. We’ve got lots of work to do with her,” Jewel replied.

It took another half an hour to get all the children loaded into the bus and headed back the short distance to the Hopechest Ranch. The noise level was just below that of a jet engine as they all chatted about their horses and the riding experience. The only one who didn’t say a word was Kelsey, who stared out the window as if she were lost in a world of her own.

Jewel was determined to break into that world. It wasn’t just her job, it was a calling from her very soul.

“Everybody out and you can have free time play in the garage until dinnertime,” Jewel said as she parked in front of the house. One section of the threecar garage had been turned into a playroom, complete with toys and games and craft items.

All the kids headed for the garage except Kelsey, who lingered behind. “Is it okay if I just go to my room?” she asked.

Jewel would have preferred she go with the other children and interact, but she also knew it was going to take some time for Kelsey to feel safe here, to feel as if she were part of the group.

She placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “That’s fine. Dinner is at five-thirty so make sure you’re in the kitchen by then.”

Kelsey nodded and headed inside. Jewel lingered outside, fighting a wave of exhaustion. The restless nights and bad dreams were getting more frequent, and more difficult to handle.

She raised her face to the warmth of the sun and once again thought about romance. Maybe she was incapable of loving anyone. Maybe the love she’d had for Andrew had been all she had and once it had been given she’d been left empty.

Of course, that didn’t explain the odd tingle of excitement she felt whenever she was around Quinn. Female hormones reminding her that she was alive—that’s all it was, she told herself.

It was impossible for her to fall in love again, especially with her past visiting her every night in the form of nightmares.

Voices in the night. Visions in the woods. Equally as haunting as the dreams was the fear that somehow she was slowly falling into the mental illness that had consumed her mother.

“She should be just fine,” Quinn assured Ralph Smith, a local rancher who had called him about a cow who had gotten caught in some barbed wire. “All the wounds are superficial and now that I’ve cleaned her up and applied antibiotic cream, she shouldn’t have any problems.”

He slapped the rear of the big animal and with a low moo she headed back toward the pasture. “I’d definitely do something about that barbed wire.”

Ralph frowned toward a stand of trees and brush. “I didn’t even know it was there, just tangled up in all the weeds, but I’ll get it out of here today.”

Together the two men walked toward the gate in the fence. Initially, coming out here and meeting up with Ralph had been awkward. Ralph had been one of the loudest, most critical ranchers when Quinn had been forced to put down Clay Colton’s prized stud.

It had been the second-darkest time in Quinn’s life. The darkest had been when he’d lost his wife, Sarah, to cancer.

Even though Quinn had been proven right in his diagnosis of the disease that had infected Clay’s stud, even thought his decision to put the horse down had probably saved the rest of the stock, Quinn had never quite gotten over how quickly some of the locals had turned on him.

The fact that Ralph had called him to come and check out the cow was an olive branch he had extended to Quinn. It had been a long time coming, but Quinn wasn’t a man to hold a grudge. Life was too damned short.

“Just let me know if the wounds begin to ooze or look infected and I’ll come back out,” Quinn said as he reached the door of his pickup truck.

“I appreciate it, Doc.” Ralph held out his hand and the two men shook.

Minutes later as Quinn drove away from the Smith ranch and back toward town, he thought about those dark days when many in the town had turned their backs on him, made darker because he was still grieving for his wife. At the time all he had was his work and when that took a hit, he considered packing up and leaving Esperanza.

Instead, with the support of the Coltons, Clay in particular, he’d stayed and held his head high. When his decision to put the stud down had been vindicated, he’d put the whole ordeal behind him and got on with his life.

As he drove down Main Street, he decided to stop for dinner at Miss Sue’s Café, where he took many of his evening meals. He told himself it was because he hated to cook, but the truth was he dreaded the evening hours spent alone.

An old-fashioned cowbell heralded his arrival as he entered the quaint café. “You’re a bit early today, Quinn,” Becky French, the owner of the establishment, greeted him with a warm smile.

He smiled at the short, plump woman. “It’s never too early for a good meal.” He walked over to one of the wooden tables by the window and sat in a chair where he could easily see out the window.

“Got some new pictures,” Becky said as she poured him a cup of coffee. There was nothing Becky loved more than to show off pictures of her grandchildren. She set the coffeepot down and dug into her apron pocket to withdraw a handful of photos.

Quinn took them from her and studied each of the smiling childish faces. “They’re beautiful,” he said.

Becky smiled and nodded. “They are.” She tucked the photos back in her apron. “I’ll just give you a few minutes. The special is smothered steak and mashed potatoes.”

“Then I don’t need a minute. That sounds good.” He returned the menu and leaned back in the chair to sip his coffee. She scurried away, the gray bun on top of her head bobbing with her brisk walk.

Kids. At one time Quinn had hoped to have a house full, but fate and cancer had stolen that dream from him. He and Sarah had never had a chance for children.

Even though it was early, there were already other diners in the café. Quinn had never been in the place when there weren’t at least a handful of people. Most mealtimes the place was packed.

He’d just finished his coffee when Georgie Sheffield, her husband, Nick, and her daughter, little Emmie, came through the door.

“I hear we just missed you this morning at Clay’s,” Georgie said to him. “We had a reunion. Ryder and Ana are back in town and we took them to Clay’s.” Georgie’s green eyes sparkled brightly. “It was wonderful.”

Emmie sidled up next to Quinn. At five years old, the little girl was the spitting image of her mother. Her red hair was cut pixielike to frame her face and she was dressed just like her mama in jeans, a Western-style shirt and cowboy boots.

Emmie was bright and precocious and had spent most of her young life on the rodeo circuit with her mother. The little girl considered Quinn a special friend because he fixed horses when they got sick and there were few things Emmie loved more than horses and cowboys.

“Excuse me, Mommy, but I want to talk to Mr. Quinn,” Emmie said. Georgie smiled with amusement and nodded. “Guess what happens next week?”

“I can’t imagine. What?” Quinn replied.

She leaned closer, bringing with her the scent of sunshine and childhood. “School begins.”

“Ah.” Quinn smiled at her. “And what are you, in the second grade, the third?”

“Maybe I should be because you know I can already read,” Emmie exclaimed. She leaned even closer. “But, truly it’s going to be my very first day of kindergarten.” A fierce look of determination crossed her petite features. “And I’m going to make one new friend, even if he or she isn’t a cowboy.”