Healing the Forest Ranger

That was just the problem. He didn’t believe her. “Ma’am, there are more important things out here than the ranchers and their cattle.”

She brushed her hand across some sage. “There are miles of sagebrush out here. It’s edible, but provides very little nourishment for the horses. They need grass. Wild horses don’t migrate to better areas when food and water runs out. They just stay here and starve. And please, call me Lyn.”

Not if he could help it.

She poked a tuft of Great Basin wheatgrass with the tip of her scuffed boot. “It takes fifty acres of this kind of land to feed one horse for one month. That doesn’t include elk and mule deer, nor any cattle, either. You can do the math as easily as I can to figure out how many miles of land are needed to keep that wild-horse herd happy and healthy. But I can tell you this area can sustain about one hundred and fifty wild horses. We currently have over four hundred and fifty horses living in and around this national forest. And that’s too many if we don’t want to see them starve to death.”

She turned and continued walking. In spite of his desire not to, he found himself liking the jaunty bounce of her hair. Spunky and sure of herself. He’d never met anyone like her.

He flinched when she whirled around and continued her dialogue.

“And you’re wrong about the cattle. They’re just as important as the wild horses. Every man, woman and child in this country needs to eat. And cattlemen make their living by growing cows. The horses are important. The cows are important. And so is the other wildlife out here. The issues aren’t easy, but we need to find ways to make it all work together. And I have some ideas, if you’d like to hear them...”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Forget it. I’ve heard it all before, and I doubt you have anything new to add that’ll make a difference to me.”

“Have it your way.” With a simple shrug, she kept walking. No argument. No blustering anger. She seemed easygoing and laid-back. Disarming in her candor. And he couldn’t help wondering about her ideas. For the first time, he really wanted to know. But asking her to explain seemed a bit like admitting defeat right now.

They soon arrived at her truck, her boots and pant legs covered by a thin sheen of dust. As she unlocked and opened the door to the driver’s seat, she tilted her head to look up at him. “We might have conflicting opinions, Cade, but I can make a big difference here in Stokely. And I intend to do just that.”

She climbed inside and reached for the armrest to pull the door closed. Before she did so, she gave him a smile so bright that it made his jaw ache. “Thanks again for all your help. I appreciate you being so neighborly.”

He nodded once in acknowledgment, his tongue tied in knots.

As she started the ignition and pulled away, the tires of her truck bounced over the washboard road. Cade sat on his horse and stared after her, feeling withdrawn and out of sorts. He didn’t agree with her assessment of the wild- horse situation, and yet he felt as though he’d just been scolded by his mother. In the nicest way possible.

He’d noticed the growing herds of horses becoming emaciated. But the beliefs planted in his mind throughout his childhood were hard to ignore. Wild horses should be left alone to live in freedom. The government shouldn’t interfere. Right? Of course he was right!

Nope, he didn’t like the new forest ranger, but he also couldn’t deny that she seemed to know her business here. He just wished he didn’t need to have any more dealings with her in the future. Since he was the wild-horse spokesman for the Toyakoi Shoshone Tribe, Cade figured that wasn’t likely. He frequently participated in meetings and demonstrations to protect the wild horses.

Oh, yes. He’d see the new forest ranger again sometime soon. Much to his regret.

Chapter Two

“How’d school go today?” Lyn tightened her fingers around the steering wheel as she pressed on the brake. Her car came to a halt at the only stoplight on Main Street in the town of Stokely. Population eleven thousand and twenty-three, including dogs, cats and gophers.

“None of the kids like me.” Kristen’s simple reply vibrated with hurt and anger.

“I’m sure that’s not true, honey.” Lyn glanced at her ten-year-old daughter, who sat next to her, tugging against her seat belt.

“Yes, it is.”

“It just takes time to get to know everyone when you’re the new kid in town. Maybe you could invite one of the girls in your class over to the house to play on Saturday.” Lyn lightened her voice, trying to sound positive. Trying to encourage her daughter the only way she knew how.

The stoplight turned green and she pressed on the gas, moving slowly down the street.

“They’ll never like me.” Kristen tugged her skirt lower across the C-Leg prosthetic limb on her right leg as though trying to hide as much of the amputation as possible.

Lyn studied her child’s tight profile and long white-blond hair. The girl was beautiful. If only the other children would treat her like a normal kid. But that was just the problem. Kristen wasn’t normal. And she never would be. “How can they not like you? They hardly know you yet. We’ve only been here a couple of months.”

Kristen tapped her knuckles hard against the socket of the prosthetic limb. “This is all they see, Mom. They call me peg leg and gimp.”

Lyn’s heart wrenched. Kids could be so cruel. If only they’d get to know Kristen, they’d learn what a smart, sweet girl she was. And so easy to love.

“I hate it here. I want to go home.” Tears watered Kristen’s voice as she flounced around and glared out the window.

“We are home, honey.” Lyn wanted to cry, too, but didn’t think that would do Kristen any good. Alone at night in her dark bedroom, Lyn allowed her emotions to flow across her pillow. But in the light of day, she must be strong. For both her and Kristen’s sakes.

“Maybe you could wear blue jeans more often.” Dresses were easier in case Kristen needed to adjust her prosthetic limb, but pants hid the apparatus from view.

“It won’t help. I limp and can’t run. They know something’s wrong with me. They don’t like me.”

Lyn’s heart ached for her daughter. How she wished she could protect her from this pain. Even if they covered up the prosthesis, Kristen jerked so hard when she walked that people frequently stared at her. They knew immediately that the girl was impaired, but they didn’t understand why. Lyn had even heard a woman in the grocery store yesterday whisper loudly that Kristen must be retarded. As if her leg had anything to do with her brain. In fact, the opposite was true. Kristen pulled top grades in science and math. If only she could walk better, she might fit in more.

“Well, I adore you,” Lyn said with a smile.

“You don’t count, Mom. You have to love me because I’m your kid.”

Lyn snorted. “If that were true, there’d be a lot fewer abusive mothers in the world, honey. I love you more than my own life. And that’s that.”

Kristen tossed her head and huffed out a big sigh of exasperation. “You just don’t understand.”

Lyn understood more than Kristen realized. But friends and peer pressure were so important to a young girl. Especially a girl with only one leg. Moms didn’t count at this point in life. If only it had been Lyn who had lost her leg in the accident. Not Kristen. Not her precious little girl.

Pressing on the brake again, Lyn came to a stop sign. A lance of vivid memory pierced her mind. The car crash had been caused by a drunk driver, now incarcerated in a state penitentiary. But that wouldn’t restore Kristen’s leg or bring Rob back. Nor did it ease Lyn’s conscience over her part in what had happened. Though it’d only been a year earlier, Kristen had been so young. Only nine years old. They’d both lost the father and husband they dearly adored.

Rob. The love of Lyn’s life.

She glanced in the rearview mirror. No one behind her, so she paused long enough to talk with Kristen for a few moments. Reaching across the seat, Lyn brushed her hand down the silken length of Kristen’s hair. “I know this is hard, honey. But you’re so pretty and smart. All your teachers tell me you’re their best student. You’ve got a lot going for you. We’ve just got to keep trying.”

Kristen shrugged off Lyn’s hand, her voice thick with resentment. “You mean I’ve got to keep trying. I’m the one without a leg, not you. And Daddy’s dead. The only reason I’m a good student is because I promised him.”

Oh, that hurt. Not a day went by that she didn’t feel guilty for surviving uninjured while her husband had died and her daughter lost her leg. But Kristen was too young to understand how much a mother loved her child. Or just how much Lyn missed her husband.

“I know, honey. Please believe me—if I could take this pain from you, I would. I just want to help. We can’t give up. Not ever.”

Lyn might have reached over and hugged Kristen, but a driver pulled up behind them and blared the horn of their car. Lyn jerked her head around. Kathy Newton, a woman she’d recently met at Kristen’s school, waved at them. Returning the gesture with a plastic smile, Lyn pressed on the gas. Two blocks later, she turned the corner and parked in front of the doctor’s office before killing the motor.

“Maybe this new doctor can help you walk straighter,” Lyn suggested. “Your old doctor highly recommended him.”

A prosthesis specialist in such a small town was rare. Apparently this doctor was a former U.S. marine. Lyn had been told that he’d seen several of his buddies lose their limbs during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and he’d done a lot of work in the field of prosthetics. And that could be really promising for Kristen.

“Nothing can help me walk without a limp. Everyone will always know something’s wrong with me,” Kristen said.

The ominous words were spoken to the glass windowpane. Kristen refused to look at her, and Lyn couldn’t blame her. Since the accident, Lyn could hardly stand to face herself. She’d hoped her transfer to this small ranching town might help make a difference for both of them. The slower pace. Fewer people. The jagged mountains and open, windswept valleys covered by bleached grass and sage. They both needed time to heal. Lyn had no outward scars, but inside, the accident had disfigured her beyond recognition. She’d never be the same again.

Neither would Kristen.

If only there was some way Lyn could go back in time, she’d find a reason to miss their appointment to view the Appaloosa mare. Their family had been so carefree that evening. Excited to buy Kristen’s first horse. Both Lyn and Rob had been raised on a ranch, and Rob had been a regional rodeo champion during high school. They wanted to share their love of equines with their daughter. They’d discussed the idea for months. Kristen was fearless on a horse. She’d make such a great rider.