Chapter Eleven
“Well?” Noah asked Dair as she sat in her chair at the top of the newly created wooden sidewalk in two days. “What do you think?”
Dair was surrounded by everyone as they waited for her to speak. The sun was setting behind the Wilson Range, and pink-edged clouds hung over the peaks, northwest of the ranch. “It looks wonderful,” she told them, smiling. “Thank you so much.”
Shay came and placed her hand on Dair’s jacketed shoulder. “We should have thought about this the weekend we had the arena raising this past summer,” she told Dair. “Because we need to make this place handicap available, too.”
Reese came forward, standing next to Shay. “As soon as the weather turns warm and stays about fifty-five degrees, we’re going to get a concrete truck in here and we’re going to lay a real sidewalk that’s wide enough for two people or anyone with a hardship. It needs to be done.” He gave Dair a fond look. “You just reminded us to put this higher up on our to-do list, is all.”
Dair felt some of the guilt slide off her. “So this was already in your plans?”
“Absolutely,” Shay said, patting her shoulder. “We need a sidewalk so our boots aren’t always either muddy or covered with snow. Plus, we wanted the arena accessible to all people.”
Noah stood on the right side of Dair. “Would you like to give it a whirl?” he asked, gesturing to the gently sloping plank sidewalk.
“Sure,” she murmured. Everyone stood back so that she could maneuver the lightweight chair.
“We also,” Reese pointed out, gesturing down the expanse, “made it less steep for you. We didn’t want you wheeling out of control.” He grinned over at her.
Dair laughed. “Hey, it can happen! Thanks for that, too,” she said as she pushed off, her hands running along the wheels. To her delight, it was wide enough so that the chair, if she made a judgment error, wouldn’t tumble off the edge and tip into the gravel on either side of it, throwing her on the ground. Everyone had been thoughtful about making the sidewalk wide enough, but also used a switchback design to create a less severe incline so she could easily control her movements downhill, and also make it much easier for her to push herself up the path to their homes.
Noah followed her down, a shadowy figure beside her, his boots crunching in the gravel beside the walk. Dair knew he was worried she might need help, but she really didn’t. He hadn’t been around amputees enough yet to realize they are very, very adept at getting around without any help. She could feel his protectiveness toward her and it was like a wonderful, warm embrace. At the bottom, the wooden walkway was built out into a slight fan-like platform, evenly meeting the concrete sidewalk around the arena. It was an easy, seamless transition and she stopped, turning the chair around. Noah stood there frowning, critical of everything, judging by his expression.
“This is great,” she said. “Easy peasy.”
“Well,” he murmured, walking up to her, “what about going up that incline, now? Can you do it on your own?”
“Watch,” she told him, giving him a wicked smile, pushing forward on those lightweight wheels. In five minutes, she was up on the wooden walk, wheeling quickly toward the rest of the people standing at the top, watching her progress with smiles of approval.
When she made it to where they were standing, they started clapping for her. Grinning, Dair could feel the sweat that had broken out beneath her jacket. The incline wasn’t easy, but it was negotiable.
Noah had walked behind her, and she knew he was unsure if she could make the trip, but she had. Her biceps were aching, not used to such a workout, but every day she traveled up and down this walk, her muscles would respond, and pretty soon, she’d do it without even thinking about it. It would become muscle memory. Noah came around her chair, assessing her closely.
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“You’ve got sweat on your brow,” Reese noted.
“Well,” she said with a laugh, “it is a workout, but it’s nothing I can’t deal with. So, no worries, okay?” She gave everyone a smile. They all nodded, and any concern dissipated in their collective expressions.
“Well, it’s time to feed the horses,” Reese told them.
Noah asked Dair, “Do you want any help going into the house?”
Shaking her head, she said, “No, go ahead and feed.” When the homes had been built this past summer, a wide wooden ramp had been installed to each door of the houses. Shay had wanted the homes to be available for military vets who might have handicap issues and they’d also built wider doors inside to ensure that they could get a chair through without getting stuck.
Shay and Kira ambled over to her.
“You look like you’ve been running a marathon,” Kira noted.
“Are you okay, Dair?” Shay asked.
“I’m fine. In a week, I’ll have that sidewalk down pat, so don’t worry, okay?”
“I’m not used to being around an amputee,” Kira admitted quietly, giving Dair a warm look. “If you ever need anything, you know you can call me or Shay on the phone.”
Reaching out, Dair squeezed Kira’s hand. “I know that. So, go home and do your translations. I’ve got to start supper for Noah and me.”
“Okay,” Shay said, reaching out, touching her shoulder, “see you later! Tomorrow’s a new day for you, Dair!”
Kira reached over, giving Dair a quick hug. “Get inside. It’s going to be cold tonight.”
Dair loved those two women. They were, after all, military vets like herself. An incredible bond had formed among the three of them, because now, two days in a row, Shay and Kira had come over to help Dair get a shower and wash her hair. They didn’t mind, and often told her they liked being of help to her. Everyone left, walking to their respective homes. As she made her way up the ramp to the house, she spotted Ray Crawford coming out of the last home at the end of the row. She rarely saw him, but noted his slight limp as he walked toward where he had his pickup parked. What was he doing out at this time of night? Dair opened the door to the house and saw him climb into his truck and leave, the headlights shooting glaringly into the dusk.
Wheeling inside, her focus lingered on Crawford. Shay was beside herself because she knew her father continued to drink. Didn’t the old man know it was hurting his daughter? Shay cared deeply for what was left of her family, and there were days when Dair saw how much it tore her up. Shaking her head, she quickly removed her jacket, muffler, and knit cap, along with her gloves. Noah had thoughtfully set a small bed stand at the end of the mudroom, where she could lay her gear. Being bound to a chair, it would be a struggle to stand up on her one leg, balance herself, and place her jacket and other items on the wooden pegs high above her.
Dair couldn’t cook or work well at the kitchen counter from her chair. Noah had assured her he would take care of all the cooking, cleaning, and anything else until she could get mobile with a new limb again. Six weeks. It seemed daunting to her, and again, that sense of helplessness engulfed her. It had been with her at Bethesda as she acclimated to her prosthesis and learning how to walk again.
Reminding herself that Dr. Radke was like a guardian angel, Dair tried to move from that dark place within herself. She wanted to do something to help, and hated when she couldn’t. Everything was out of her reach when she was in a wheelchair, the counter too high and the cupboards completely inaccessible. And right now, the doctor had given her stern orders not to try and use her good leg and hop around on crutches, unless absolutely necessary. The knee brace was there in case of emergency when she had to stand. Her left knee needed quiet and stability, not getting yanked around. If she lost her balance? Well, that could double the injury to her knee. And Dair wasn’t willing to risk that for anything. If Radke could get her mobile in six weeks with a new limb if she strictly followed his orders, that would be a godsend. She just had to still her impatience and let these weeks go by.
Wheeling into the living room, she picked up the remote for the TV to watch the regional news. There was little else she could do, because Noah had put on a big pot of chili in the Crock-Pot, the smell making her stomach growl with anticipation. She was hungry. That was a good sign she was coming out of the shock. The remote slipped and fell on the floor. Making an unhappy sound, Dair saw it roll to beneath the wooden table that held the flat-screen TV against the wall. Wheeling forward, she leaned out, taking her injured knee off the foot pad so she didn’t put undue stress on it. It gave her leverage to lean down so that her head was now beneath the table as she stretched, her fingers pulling the remote toward her.
Her eye caught something. Twisting a look upward, she saw something attached to the bottom of the table. What was it? Unsure, thinking that it might have to do with the TV reception or the DirecTV they used out here in the valley, Dair didn’t bother it. The remote rolled toward her and she was able to grab it and then back out from beneath the table.
Straightening, she dropped the remote in her lap and wheeled back so she could watch the news. Everyone signed up with DirecTV, which was satellite fed, instead. And sometimes she knew the signals could be affected by a heavy snowstorm. Maybe that smaller antenna beneath the table helped boost the original satellite signal? Dair thought it might have something to do with that.
Noah ambled in half an hour later. He climbed out of his winter gear, took off his boots, and traded them in for a pair of sneakers. The kitchen was filled with the mouthwatering scent of chili. He spotted Dair wheeling toward him. “Hey, you ready to eat? I sure am.”
If daydreams could come true, he would walk up to her, lean down, cup her face, and kiss her until they melted together.
“That chili smells so good, Noah.” Dair halted as he walked into the kitchen and rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands at the sink. “I wish I could help.”
“It’s okay, Dair. You’re only going to be in that chair for six weeks at the most.” He gave her a sympathetic glance. She had taken her hair out of pigtails, and it lay like a shining black cloak around her shoulders, framing her incredibly beautiful face. Every cell in his body reacted to the warmth resting in her gold-brown eyes as she sat at the edge of the kitchen, out of his way.
“Hey, that box under the table in the living room? Do you know what it is?”
“Oh . . . that. Yeah, it’s got something to do with the satellite stuff.”
That was good to know. “How’s Candy doing? Harper still with her?”
“She’s starting to move around in circles, a sure sign she’s going to drop a foal in a bit.” Drying his hands on a nearby towel, he gestured toward the Crock-Pot. “I’m going to go take him a bowl of chili and some bread and butter.”
“Good idea,” she agreed. “This is so exciting! I love seeing foals born.”
“Well, Candy seems very happy that Harper is with her. She’ll make a circle and then goes to rest her head on his chest. Wish I had a camera.” He grinned.
Dair stayed out of the way while Noah quickly spooned out the thick, fragrant chili, and sprinkled it with shredded sharp cheddar cheese, slapped some butter on four pieces of whole wheat bread, and hurried out the door to the barn to go feed Harper. She smiled, feeling her heart swell with so many good feelings toward Noah. He thought of others first. It was a good sign in her book, because she’d known enough selfish men in her life.
In ten minutes, Noah was back, rubbing his cold hands together to warm them up.
“I’ll bet you that by the time we get done eating, Candy will have foaled.”
“And I bet Harper was happy you brought him something to eat.”
He chuckled as he filled two yellow ceramic bowls with the chili. “For sure. It was such a good idea that Reese had that broodmare suite heated. It’s cold out there, probably dropped into the twenties already. In the suite, it’s a nice fifty-five degrees, just right for a mom ready to give birth. It will also help the foal.”
“The foal won’t get cold or contract pneumonia,” Dair agreed.
He set the bowls on the table. “Come on,” he urged, pointing to one side of the table. “What I’d like to do is eat, and then I’ll wheel you down there. Kira, Shay, and Reese are waiting for Harper to call when the foal’s been born. They’re eager to see the new baby, too.”
“Sounds great,” Dair said, always enthusiastic over a foal being birthed. “Good thing they know to stay away until the foal is born.”
“For sure. There’s broodmares who will stop the birthing process if there’s a crowd of onlookers around. Seen it happen too many times.” Noah placed the platter with buttered bread between them. Going back to the counter, he brought over two glasses of water and then sat down.
The cheese-covered chili melted in her mouth. Noah had also added a thick dollop of sour cream. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten much since the injury, but now she was starving. They ate in companionable silence, just the sounds of their spoons scraping their bowls.
Noah had just finished his first bowl of chili when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his shirt pocket.
“Harper?”
“Yes. Candy just dropped a beautiful jet-black filly. She’s a beauty. Mom and baby are fine. Come on down. And bring me a second bowl of chili? And while you’re at it, four more slices of bread?”
Laughing, Noah said, “You got it. We’ll be down in about ten minutes. Did you call Shay and Kira?”
“They’re next on my list.”
Noah told Dair, “She’s a black filly. That’s a rare color.”
Finishing off her chili, she said, “Truly, it is. I love black. It’s my favorite color in horsedom.”
“Well,” Noah said, “you may be of some help.”
“How?” She munched on the last piece of bread.
“I was talking to Harper when I was down there. He said that Candy is really a sweet mare and she doesn’t mind if someone is in the stall with her and the foal. I was thinking that maybe tomorrow you might wheel on over there and make friends with them. See how Candy responds to you and how the foal reacts to you. Because Harper has to leave for a job south of here for the next week. He won’t be around to handle the foal like it should be handled in order to introduce it to humans.”
“But, I’m in a chair.”
“So what? Let the foal come to you. You can pet her, rub her head, neck, or any part she turns toward you. Didn’t you do this to your foals your grandmother’s broodmares birthed?”
“Well,” Dair said, hesitating, “yes. We’d make sure those foals were completely bonded with us, and not afraid of humans.”
“Think you could do that for Harper while he’s away on that job?”
“I can try. I’ve never been around horses and been stuck in a chair.”
“I’ll be with you at first. We’ll see if it works or not. Okay?”
She smiled. “You’re good for me, Noah.” She saw his cheeks turn ruddy, a sudden bashfulness come to his gray eyes.
“I don’t know how you can say that, Dair. I put you back in your chair by not being responsible toward you.”
She stared at him. “What? That you didn’t speak up about Champ?”
“Yes,” he said, giving her an apologetic look. “I’m the boss. It’s my job to make the tough decisions. Tears always rip me up. I’m a sucker for any child or woman who cries.” His mouth quirked. “If I had just followed my gut, you wouldn’t be sitting in a chair.” He abruptly got up, taking the dirty dishes with him.
Swallowing her shock over his sense of guilt, there was little she could say. Noah scrubbed the dishes in the sink, his broad back toward her. She could feel the churning of his emotions, some anger, some frustration, and his disappointment in himself. Mouth tightening, she wheeled over to within a few feet of where he stood at the sink, rinsing off the dishes.
“I don’t blame you, Noah.” Dair said it quietly. He snapped his head in her direction and she could see the full weight of how he felt. There was raw, gutting guilt there. Opening one hand, she pleaded, “Look, no one’s to blame for this. We all made decisions. I’m as much to blame in this situation, if you want to look at it that way.” Her heart was beating hard because she didn’t like seeing Noah this upset. He wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with himself. She could see it in the flash of his gray eyes, the way he tensed unconsciously.
“Right now,” he said, his voice low and thick with feeling, “I know I put you there. I don’t want to argue about this with you, Dair. You’re in training under me. I let you down. That makes me feel pretty damned disappointed with myself. And you’re paying the price.”
Sighing, she whispered, “Don’t do this to yourself, Noah. I spent a year and a half after I lost my leg, beating the hell out of myself. It does no good.” She watched him scowl as he placed the dishes into the dishwasher. Closing it, he turned and placed his hands on the slender arms of the chair, his face six inches from her own. “You deserve nothing but sunshine, Dair, after all you’ve been through. I like you way more than I should. Because of that, I allowed you to sway me from what I knew. That wasn’t your fault. That was all on me.”
More shock rolled through her. Noah was so close, so vital and alive. He was masculine, the power of him as a man, radiating off him. She picked up that scent of his, and she found herself inhaling it deeply. The stubble on his face, deepening the natural hollows of his cheeks, accentuated that sense of coiled power within him. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she felt an incredible longing course through her, throwing her into a maelstrom of emotions.
Her hands tightened in her lap as she felt the full force of him connecting with her. Worse, she was yearning for him. His admission that he liked her way too much threw her off balance. What did that mean? She wasn’t angry or upset with him. Dair whispered, “You can’t bluster at me, Noah. I’m not going to blame you for what happened to me. I’m a big girl. I wear big girl panties, in case that is lost on you.” For a moment, she saw his chagrin change to amusement. And then he broke her gaze, bowing his head for a moment.
Noah straightened, holding her defiant gaze. “Big girl panties, huh?”
“Yeah,” she growled.
He scratched his head, giving her an amused look. “Never heard that saying before.”
“Well, you aren’t a girl, either,” she said, losing some of the defiance in her tone. Lifting her finger, Dair shook it up at him. “I won’t let you take all the blame for this, Noah. I had a part in it, too. So I’m paying the price. I disregarded my gut hunch on Champ, too. I knew he was dangerous. I sensed that he wouldn’t change. I was just as swayed by the little girl’s tears and pleading as much as you were. So? Blame us for having soft hearts and not listening to our heads.”
He sighed, giving her a wry look. “I’ll always be sorry I helped put you in this present situation, Dair.”
His apology made her wince because she could see the regret in his expression. “We’ll get over this together, okay?” She wanted desperately to ask him what he meant by liking her too much. Noah had never made a move to show her he had any interest in her other than being a kind, compassionate person. What did he mean by that statement? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask when his phone rang.
Noah answered. It was Harper.
“Hey, I can sure use another bowl of that chili, Noah. Are you going to come down here soon?”
“You have a hollow leg, Harper,” he growled. “Yeah, we’ll be down shortly.” He slipped the phone into his shirt pocket.
“Harper’s still hungry?” Dair asked, grinning.
“Yeah. The guy is lean as hell and he eats for three people. Want to go down and see the little filly with me?”
“In a heartbeat,” Dair murmured, glad that they were off the other topic. She was discovering that Noah had a very sensitive conscience. With a shake of her head, she turned and wheeled into the mudroom to don her winter gear while he fixed another huge bowl of chili for Harper.
There was a tenderness in Noah’s eyes as he handed her the wrapped bowl of chili that he’d put on a tray across her lap for her to hold on the trip down to the barn. He’d also wrapped up four more pieces of bread that had been slathered with butter. And added a thermos of black coffee.
“You’re a good friend to Harper,” she said, tucking all of it onto the tray as he pulled on his winter gear.
“Like to treat people as I want to be treated.”
“Is that your mom or dad’s teaching?” she wondered when he went and opened the door.
Walking behind her chair, he gripped the handles with his leather gloves. “Both of them. I like their stand-up morals and values.”
She twisted a look up at him, her head tipped back. “I like who you are, Noah. You’re a good man.” And he was. For an instant, she saw her softly spoken compliment reach out and move him. And then, just as quickly, he hid his reaction.
“On some days,” he muttered. “Let’s go, pardner . . .”
* * *
The lights from their house as well as the ones at each barn entrance provided plenty of light to see where Noah was pushing her chair, and Dair could barely contain her excitement. She spotted Shay, Reese, and Kira gathered down at the door to the main horse barn. They were waiting for them, and that touched her heart. Only in the military was there such unspoken camaraderie among a unit of people. And there was no mistake about it: Even though they were civilians now, scrambling to survive in their new world, they were doing it together. In some ways, as Noah wheeled her up to the huddled group in the freezing night air, Dair looked at the military like a beehive of sorts.
Everyone was a worker bee doing something for the good of the whole hive’s survival. The military was exactly like that. Everyone had a career designation, was trained up for it and contributed through constant teamwork within their squad, platoon, or company. It grew to be a battalion or division, but it was the same hive. Every one of them was a worker bee in the military. It was no different here on the Bar C, either.
She saw Shay give her a huge, happy smile as they rolled up to the group.
“A black filly, Dair! She’s so cute!”
“You guys already saw her?” Dair asked.
“Yes,” Reese said. “We didn’t want to all go in at once and make the mother tense. Harper took us in, one at a time.” He smiled. “She’s a cutie. Strong, curious, and has no fear of two-leggeds.”
“That’s great,” Dair said, eager to see the newborn. “How’s the mom doing?”
“Oh, she’s fine. This is her fourth foal, from what Harper said,” Shay told her. “She’s an old pro at this.”
“Then you’re heading home?” Noah asked them.
“Yep,” Kira said. She patted the arm of his jacket. “Go in and see her. Harper’s moaning that he’s hungry enough to start eating two-by-fours.” She laughed.
“The guy has a perpetual hole in his stomach,” Noah groused, smiling sourly as Reese opened the door and he pushed Dair into the warmer interior of the barn.
Dair inhaled the wonderful scent of sweet timothy hay along with the alfalfa hay stacked in another area of the huge three-story barn. The broodmare suite was away from the rows of rented box stalls. She’d been there a couple of times, marveling at how well it was conceived and designed.
Noah turned her chair and pulled her through another door that led to the suite area. It had low lighting, but not so dark that they couldn’t see. She’d been there with Harper, whose expertise was in breeding and foaling, a number of times earlier. He’d shown her the suite that looked more like a penthouse than a box stall.
“There he is,” she said excitedly, pointing down toward the other end of the concrete aisleway.
“Yeah, waiting for his food,” Noah said, chuckling.
Dair held on to the tray but lifted her other hand, waving at the cowboy dressed in a thick sheepskin jacket, tan Stetson, and his nearly threadbare Levi’s. As Noah had told her before, Harper never threw anything away, not even his jeans when they should have been tossed years ago.
“I can hardly wait to see the little filly,” she whispered, suddenly emotional.
“It’s going to be special,” Noah agreed thickly. “First, we’ll feed this bear of a man and then he’ll take us into the suite.” Slowing the chair, he lifted one hand to smooth Dair’s long black hair away from her shoulder.
Drawing in a swift, soft breath, Dair turned, twisting to look up at him, surprised by his intimate touch as he moved the strands aside. Her scalp prickled pleasantly and her heart opened over the unexpected gesture. There was something in his eyes, but she was too afraid to interpret it. At least, not yet. That look sent a river of fire flowing strongly throughout her body, pooling hotly below, and there was no way not to feel herself coming alive in a way she never had before.