A Family In Wyoming

Lying in wait at the screen door, Honey the golden retriever suddenly lifted her head. A moment later, Wyatt Marshall heard it, too—the rumble of a truck on the drive. With relief, he put down the book he’d been failing to read. “About time, isn’t it, girl?”

Honey got up as he joined her at the door. Together they stepped outside just as headlights appeared in the distance. The six teenagers who’d been stationed on the front porch for the last two hours scrambled to their feet, cell phones forgotten for the moment.

“I was beginning to worry,” Wyatt’s youngest brother, Dylan, said as he came to stand beside him.

Garrett, the next oldest, posted himself at the foot of the steps. “I’m still worried. We don’t know if they found Nate.”

Wyatt shook his head. “Ford wouldn’t come back without him.”

The truck pulled to a stop in front of the house and Ford strode around the hood of the vehicle. “Sorry we took so long.” He opened the front passenger door for Caroline Donnelly, the local social worker. “There were complications.”

Wyatt frowned. “Is everybody alright?”

With her feet on the ground, Caroline offered a reassuring smile. “They will be, now that we’ve got them.”

“Them?”

Ford opened the rear door and leaned inside. When he straightened up, he was cradling a young child in his arms. Then a woman emerged, followed by Nate Bradley. Nate was one of the camp kids the Marshalls were hosting on their ranch this summer. He’d run away earlier this evening—and gone straight home apparently.

Wyatt held the screen door as Ford led the way into the house and, without pausing, headed for the bedrooms down the hallway. Nate and the woman followed so quickly that Wyatt barely got a glimpse of her blond hair before they’d disappeared.

“His mother and little sister,” Garrett explained, in response to Wyatt’s questioning stare. “I guess finding Nate involved more conflict than we’d expected.”

“We’d better make coffee,” Wyatt said, and went to the kitchen. When Ford returned to the living room a couple of minutes later, Wyatt handed him a mug. “So what happened?”

After taking a long draw of the steaming brew, Ford sat down in a recliner by the fireplace. “Nate had gone home to check on his mom and sister. Unfortunately, his dad was in the house, drunk and furious. My arrival didn’t improve the situation, and he started venting his anger on Nate. I lost my temper, too, but the deputy showed up and controlled the situation before any damage was done. Susannah—that’s Nate’s mother—didn’t want to press charges, so we thought the safest plan was to bring her and her little girl, Amber, here.” He drank more coffee. “I’ll see about getting an order of protection in the morning.”

In the silence that followed, a light step sounded in the hallway. Wyatt glanced up from his own cup as Susannah Bradley stepped into the room.

His gut clenched as if he’d been punched. Tall and shapely, with dark blue eyes and plump pink lips, she was a woman any man would want to look at twice. Or maybe always. Her bright blond hair was pulled away from her face, but soft strands fell free, begging to be brushed away, played with, twisted around a gentle finger.

What slayed him, though, were the bruises on her skin. A dark shadow along the line of her jaw, a purple-and-yellow stain under her right eye. A bracelet of red around her wrist.

Wyatt choked down the need to find the bastard who’d hurt her and extract payment. Instead, he got to his feet and nodded in her direction. “Welcome to the Circle M, Ms. Bradley. Have a seat.” He motioned with his mug to the recliner by the fireplace and was relieved when she took him up on the offer. The light in the room shone indirectly there, calling less attention to her wounds. Though standing up aggravated the ache in his spine, sitting down felt worse, so he went to the entrance to the dining room and leaned a shoulder against the door frame.

“We made some hot chocolate for the kids,” Garrett said. “Or there’s coffee. Would you like a cup?”

Surprise tinged her smile. “You know, hot chocolate sounds wonderful. Thanks.”

Caroline came through the front door. “I sent the other kids to bed.” Her slender shoulders slumped and her face was pale. “It’s been a long evening.” She accepted her own cup of cocoa from Garrett and took a sip. “Mmm. Just right.” Then her gaze went to Susannah Bradley. “Did Amber settle in okay?”

“She fell asleep on the ride and never woke up. Nate’s sitting with her in case she does, but I’m pretty sure she’s down till morning.” She pressed her lips together, glancing from Ford to Wyatt. “I can’t ever thank you enough for taking us in. It’s such a huge imposition, us just showing up in the middle of the night.”

Wyatt put up a hand. “It’s not a problem at all. I’m glad we’re able to help. If there’s anything else we can do, just say the word.”

She turned her face away, blinking hard. He hated that he’d made her cry.

Once he’d finished his own cup of coffee, Dylan got up from the rocking chair. “Want me to walk Nate to the bunkhouse? I expect he’s dead on his feet.”

“Excellent idea.” Ford stood, as well. “We all could probably use some sleep.”

Caroline put a hand on Susannah Bradley’s shoulder. “We’ll get everything worked out. Just be confident that you and Nate and Amber are safe now.”

“Thank you so much.” She had a beautiful smile. And Wyatt could tell how it reassured her son when the boy followed Dylan into the room; Nate felt comfortable taking his own rest because his mom seemed to have everything under control.

But once Nate and the others stepped out the door, that smile disappeared. Bending her head, Susannah gazed into her mug, her brows drawn together and her lower lip between her teeth.

While Wyatt stood tongue-tied, Garrett sat down on the nearest end of the sofa. “Don’t worry about the future,” he told her. “You can let go tonight and face tomorrow’s challenges after a good rest. All you have to do right now is relax.” As a minister, he always knew what to say.

She drew a deep breath, but her shoulders remained stiff. “Travis is...unpredictable. If he followed us—”

This, Wyatt had the answer to. “You don’t have to be concerned about him. If he does show up here, he won’t get as far as the front steps.”

Her gaze took in the brace he wore, and her eyes widened. “You’re injured. And he might not make allowances...”

Garrett chuckled as he got to his feet. “Wyatt’s pretty formidable, even with a broken back. And there are four of us, remember. There’s nothing to be anxious about.” He gestured toward the mug she cradled between her palms. “More?”

Susannah shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“Well, then, I’ve got a couple of hours of work to put in on this week’s sermon, so I’ll say good-night now and see you in the morning.” He nodded at Wyatt as he headed toward the back of the house. “Night, Boss.”

“Night.” They’d left him alone with Susannah Bradley. What was he supposed to do in this situation? His social skills, never all that adept to begin with, had rusted over the years through lack of use—he didn’t spend much time socializing anymore. To cover his cluelessness, Wyatt went to take a gulp from his own cup, only to find it empty.

That gave him an idea. “We can put these in the dishwasher.” He reached around the door frame and flipped on the dining room light. “It’s this way.”

Susannah followed as he skirted the table and chairs they used for most meals and pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. When the light came on, he heard her gasp.

“What a beautiful room! I’ve never seen such a big kitchen!” As if she’d entered some kind of Wonderland, she wandered around, running a hand along the granite countertops, touching the cabinet doors, the drawer pulls, the edge of the stove. “How lovely it must be to cook here. So much space!” She faced him across the breakfast bar. “Did you build this house?”

He cleared his throat. “Not exactly. The bones were here, but we’ve done some renovating and additions over the years. Dylan’s an artist, so the kitchen was basically his plan, with some help from a company in Sheridan.” A question occurred to him. “Do you enjoy cooking?”

“Very much. You wouldn’t believe it to look at him, but Nate loves to eat. I don’t know how he stays so thin.”

Wyatt opened the front of the dishwasher only far enough to ease the upper rack out part of the way. “Kids use up a lot of energy growing. I remember my brothers did.”

Susannah came over to give him her cup. “He’s certainly been growing—he’s six inches taller this summer than last.”

“Must be hard to keep him in jeans that fit. At least we had hand-me-downs.” The front of the dishwasher rack was full. To pull it out all the way meant letting the door down, but that would require him to bend over to pick it up again—which hurt way more than he was ready to admit. They could just leave the cups in the sink and Garrett would take care of them in the morning...

“Let me,” Susannah said. In one smooth move, she opened the door all the way, stowed the cups, and then shut the dishwasher.

Wyatt felt like a chump. “Thanks.” Even to him, it resembled a growl.

But she didn’t take offense. “You’re welcome.” She leaned a hip against the counter and crossed her arms. “How did you get hurt?”

His face heated in embarrassment. “I was bucked off a young horse. He kicked up just as I threw my leg over, launching me like a rocket. I came down on my... I landed sitting down.”

To his surprise, she chuckled. “I imagine that experience hurt your pride even worse than your back.”