Healing the Forest Ranger

Lyn had just picked up Rob from work and was driving the car. Kristen had been sitting between them in the front seat, all of their seat belts securely fastened. They’d been talking. Laughing. And then Lyn turned onto a narrow street with a guardrail. The grille of a semitruck filled their view, followed by the sickening thunder of the crash. No time to react. No time to move.

Now Lyn closed her eyes tight, absorbing the memory as though it had just happened. If only she’d swerved and missed the oncoming truck. Maybe if she’d hit the brakes sooner. Or taken a different route. Anything to have changed the outcome.

Losing Rob had stolen all the joy in their lives. That night had been the last time they’d laughed together or felt genuinely happy.

The last time Lyn had prayed.

Filled with gloomy thoughts, she got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to help Kristen. Again, the girl brushed aside Lyn’s hands.

“I’ll do it myself,” the girl grumbled.

Lyn stood back, waiting nearby in case Kristen stumbled. An ocean of hurt separated them. Lyn wondered if they’d ever be close again.

Kristen hobbled toward the doctor’s office. With each wrenching step, the foot of her cumbersome prosthesis smacked the cement sidewalk like a club. Lyn had to keep herself from flinching at the horrible sound. She followed close by, wishing Kristen would use her wheelchair more. But the girl refused. Lyn held her arms outstretched to catch Kristen in case she fell.

Inside the small office, Kristen plopped down onto a cushioned chair. An older man sat across from them, his denim shirt accented by a turquoise bolo tie. Twin streaks of gray marred his straight black hair. Parted in the middle, the long strands flowed past his shoulders, ornamented by a single white-and-gray feather. He held a beat-up cowboy hat in his leathery hands. Though he showed no expression on his tanned face, his intelligent black eyes gazed at them with unwavering frankness. The wide bridge of his nose and high cheekbones clarified his heritage. A proud American Indian. Probably Shoshone. Lyn knew they had a tribe here in Stokely.

Ignoring the man’s piercing gaze, Lyn stepped over to the front counter and spoke to the receptionist. “I’m Lyn Warner. My daughter has an appointment at three-thirty.”

“Yes, welcome. I’m Maya, and we’ve been expecting you.” The matronly woman smiled, her rosy cheeks plumping. She swept a waterfall of straight black hair away from her face before handing Lyn a clipboard with papers attached. Maya also appeared to be of Shoshone heritage. “If you’ll just fill out this information, I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.”

Picking up a pen, Lyn sat beside Kristen and started writing. She was vaguely aware of Maya calling to the elderly man sitting across from them. He stood quietly and went to the counter to retrieve a bottle of pills.

“You take one of these every morning, Billie. And just so you know, I’m gonna call your wife to make sure you do. Helen will tell me if you’re on your medication or not.” Maya’s voice sounded thick with warning.

Billie grunted a derogative reply. The pills rattled in the bottle as he shoved them into a pocket of his blue jeans. As he passed by to leave, he stared straight ahead, speaking not a single word. The epitome of dignity and cool disdain.

Lyn dug inside her purse for her insurance card. When she finished the paperwork, she returned the clipboard to Maya.

“Thanks. Why don’t you come on back?” Maya indicated a side door.

Like always, Lyn stood beside Kristen as her daughter struggled to stand. Lyn’s fingers itched to help Kristen, who was determined to do it by herself whether she looked odd and stumbled or not.

The girl braced her hands on the armrests, gained her balance, then clopped forward, her upper torso jerking back with each awkward step. Maya opened the door and stood there smiling until Kristen passed through, then led the way down a short hall to an examination room.

Inside, Kristen sat on the only chair, a grimace of pain showing her discomfort.

“Is it hurting you today?” Lyn asked.

“No.” A short, curt word.

Lyn knew better. The wound had healed, but it’d only been a year. The stump continued to pain Kristen whenever she wore her prosthesis. But the girl hated her wheelchair even more. And Lyn knew Kristen’s autonomy would diminish with the chair.

Lyn was determined to speak with the doctor about this. The brave girl refused to show any more signs of weakness than what had been forced upon her. So daring and courageous. So determined not to quit in spite of the adversity she faced. If only this new doctor could help her somehow. If only—

The door rattled, and the doctor entered the room. Lyn’s breath froze in her throat. The man glanced first at Kristen, then at the clipboard in his hand, but Lyn recognized him instantly. A tall, jet-eyed man with short, coal-black hair shaved high and tight like a U.S. marine. Like her, Lyn figured he was in his mid-thirties. With high, chiseled cheekbones, wide shoulders and long, solid legs. Dark and extremely handsome, in a dangerous sort of way. Except for his eyes. Fringed by thick lashes, they sparkled with gentle warmth.

“Cade!”

He looked up, his gaze mirroring her shock.

No, he couldn’t be the angry rancher who thought Lyn was a threat to the mustangs. He didn’t like her, he’d made that obvious last week when he’d saved her from the wild stallion. Surely he couldn’t be Kristen’s new doctor.

But he was. Oh, this day just kept getting worse.

* * *

Cade lifted his head, but didn’t speak for several moments as he contemplated Lyndsy Warner’s presence in his office. Her golden eyes held his like a vice grip, and he sensed her deep intelligence as she studied his face in return.

“You...you’re Kristen’s new doctor?” she asked.

“Apparently.”

“Oh. I guess I didn’t make the connection. But you said your name is Cade.” Her expression looked deflated.

“That’s right, although I’m Dr. Baldwin when I’m working in my office. I didn’t expect to see you here, either.”

Now he regretted not asking her full name when he’d met her in Secret Valley last week. He hadn’t put it all together. Lyn was short for Lyndsy. He decided the name Lyn suited her better. Finding out the new forest ranger’s daughter was one of his patients caught him completely off guard.

The tribal elders wouldn’t like this. No, not at all.

His gaze took in the woman’s skinny jeans, red blouse and white tennis shoes. Instead of a ponytail, she wore her long blond hair straight and soft around her face. But her eyes. A tawny-gold color, like cooked honey, sweet and smooth. Right now, she looked like a normal housewife, not a forest ranger. Not a threat to the wild horses. And certainly too young to have a daughter so old.

Likewise, she inspected him. The stethoscope hanging around his neck. The white smock he wore open over his blue chambray shirt. His denims and scuffed cowboy boots. He shifted nervously, wishing she’d stop looking at him.

“Um, when you rescued me from Buck, I didn’t realize you were a doctor.” A stiff smile curled her full lips, but didn’t reach her beautiful eyes.

“Yeah, we didn’t talk about that.”

“I thought you were a rancher.”

“I own Sunrise Ranch, but it’s not big enough to grow crops and livestock anymore. My grandparents left the place to me. I just live there now.”

“Oh.” She continued to stare.

“You okay?” he asked, trying to hide his own feelings of confusion.

She looked away. “Yes, I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re not really what I imagined a prosthesis specialist would look like.”

He made a soft scoffing sound, the heels of his boots thudding against the wooden floor. “Is that because I’m part Shoshone Indian?”

“No, not at all. I didn’t know until now. Although that’s fascinating, too.”

She found his heritage fascinating? Ironically, that was how he would describe her. But he wasn’t about to ask her to expand on her comment.

“I’m one-half Shoshone, on my mother’s side. Any less, and I wouldn’t be eligible to belong to the tribe,” he said.

With a Caucasian father and a Shoshone mother, he’d spent every childhood summer in Stokely with his mother’s parents. He’d been in Afghanistan when his grandfather died and left him Sunrise Ranch. All his life, Cade had dreamed of becoming a doctor and opening a medical office here to benefit the Toyakoi Tribe, his Shoshone people. Now that he was here, he was haunted by memories of war. Only his faith in God kept him sane.