Her Mountain Sanctuary

As in very disturbing. Call-the-sheriff disturbing. Otherwise, she was not getting involved.

“Thank you.” Debra smiled in a grateful kind of way.

“Of course.”

Faith was almost to the door when Debra said, “Faith? Please understand how much I appreciate this. I won’t forget your help.”

Faith gave a quick nod and left the office, wondering what would happen if she did know about something and kept her mouth shut. Deb might not take overt action, but she could make Faith miserable. That said, Faith knew with a certainty she wasn’t going to spy on Drew. Her perspective of the man had shifted since the accident. Drew was nothing like her attacker. He was a guy who’d been through hell and was fighting his way back. Even though she’d automatically locked her truck door during their confrontation the night before, she’d started to feel a connection with the man. He understood. She knew that instinctively. And he was hurting, just as she was, which made her wish she hadn’t needed to lock the door to protect herself. That she could allow herself to trust him. That maybe they could share insights.

Nice fantasy, Hartman. Like she was ready to open up to a virtual stranger.

But you did. Last night.

Faith shushed her small voice, unlocked her truck and got inside, tossing her tote onto the passenger seat. She’d continue to handle things in the safest way possible—alone.

As soon as she got home, Faith set up the barrels in the arena and saddled Tommy, her black-and-white paint barrel horse. She needed to blow off some steam after the unsettling day. She had a job where she could earn a decent paycheck with no unexpected triggers, because no one except for Debra and the occasional administrative associate ever ventured into her realm. And because her job seemed so perfect, maybe she was imagining threats where there were none.

No maybe about it. She was overreacting. Manufacturing trouble. It wasn’t like Debra could fire her because she didn’t spy on her brother. That was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

If she could prove it.

Tommy was in the mood to run and Faith let him do his thing, losing herself in the moment as she tried to make every run perfect. She’d only run the barrels once or twice a week when she’d been in serious competition, spending most of her training time working on flexing, bending and speed. But she was no longer in serious competition, so she could essentially do whatever she wanted, and tonight, she wanted to run.

When she was done, both she and the gelding were sweating. Their times were improving, and as Faith dismounted, she felt a familiar stirring of resentment. She’d been on track to make the National Finals Rodeo when the attack had taken her out of competition. It was supposed to have been her year. And then her world had been turned inside out by a sicko.

Faith returned to her too-quiet house, Sully close by her side, reminded herself that she liked the quiet and then turned on some music. Maybe it was her encounter with Debra, or maybe it was simply the summer stretching ahead of her without a lot to fill it that had her feeling antsy—at loose ends.

Last summer, she’d been focused on getting her feet back under her, even though it felt like a year should have been a long enough time to get it back together. It hadn’t been.

She’d made two attempts to compete in small rodeos after the anniversary of her attack had passed, having convinced herself everything would somehow be better after the one-year mark. On her first attempt, she hadn’t even made it out of the driveway. On the second, she’d driven to the rodeo, but once there, the sights and sounds—the smells—had brought on a full-fledged panic attack. She’d tried to force things too soon.

Would she try again this year?

She wanted that part of her life back. Deep down, she was still as competitive as hell, and resented not being able to do what she once did so well.

Solution?

She needed to suck it up. Sign up for some rodeos even if she didn’t go...and, if she was serious about returning to competition, she needed to face the unpleasantness of demanding her custom barrel racing saddle back from her ex-boyfriend. The saddle she rode in now was perfectly adequate, but it wasn’t the saddle she’d bought with her winnings. The saddle she’d waited a year to be made and which represented her as a professional. The saddle that she bet Hallie Johnson was probably riding in right now. It hadn’t taken long for Faith’s ex to hook up with the hottest girl on the circuit.

She reached for the phone, then put it back down.

Did she really want to ruin her evening by contacting Jared?

No.

Which was why she didn’t have her saddle back. No night ever seemed worth ruining. A year ago, she hadn’t needed the saddle, so she’d never called. This year...she wasn’t letting herself off the hook.

Faith picked up the phone, found Jared’s name in her contacts and pushed the number. It rang and her heartbeat ratcheted up ever so slightly. Even small confrontations were harder for her than they’d once been. The call went to voice mail, and Faith wondered if it was because he didn’t recognize the number. Or because he did. Maybe Jared didn’t feel like discussing saddles with his ex.

She hesitated, then left a message. “Hey, Jared. It’s Faith. I’m calling to set up a time to get my saddle. Call me back.”

She hung up, glad on the one hand that she’d gotten the ball rolling, nervous now about the return call—which came within minutes.

“Faith! How are you?”

“I’m...better.” Her voice sounded totally normal as she spoke to the guy who’d let her down when she needed him most.

“Still working at the riding stable?”

“No. I got a job at a college. Benefits and everything.”

“Excellent.” He spoke a little too jovially. “You’re calling about the saddle.”

“Yeah. I am.”

Before she could ask him about setting up a time and place to meet, he said, “You know, I’ve been meaning to call you about that saddle. I’d kind of like to buy it from you.”

“Starting a new rodeo career?”

It took him a second to catch on, but when he did, he laughed. “No. I’m not barrel racing. But since you won’t be using it—”

“Who said I won’t be using it?”

There was a healthy pause, then Jared said, “You’re going to start competing again?”

“I might. And even if I don’t, it’s still my saddle and I want it back. For sentimental reasons if nothing else.”

“On the other hand, you could have some cold hard cash, and that trumps sentiment every time, right?”

“Who has my saddle?”

“Uh...”

“Who, Jared?”

“Does it matter? If you don’t want to sell, I’ll get it to you.”

“Ship it.”

“Ship it? That gets into some serious bucks, babe.”

“You gave my saddle away. Get it back to me or I’ll see you in small-claims court.”

Her heart was hammering, but she also felt empowered. Like her old self.

“Faith—”

“Send it to Eagle Valley Community College. The registrar’s office. I’ll give you the street address when you’re ready.”