Rough Road Home (The Circle D series) (15 page)

“More than I should have been, I know that now.” Her fingers squeezed his. “I gave my all for my clients. But that’s not all there is to life. It’s a job, Nick, and I needed a little Heavenly jolt to remind me of that.” She trained her gaze on him, a warm, searching look, before extracting her hand from his grip. “Get some rest. I’ll be back.” She pushed the chair back and moved toward the door.

“Rachel, wait.”

“Hmm?”

He wanted to ask her why she’d stayed with him last night. He wanted to know why she’d held his hand. He wanted to be assured she’d come back. His gaze roamed the room. None of this was right. He was losing his edge. He didn’t need anyone. Only right now, being the loner didn’t appeal. In a short time, he’d grown used to having her around. Even when she didn’t talk to him, her body language spoke volumes she wasn’t aware of and he liked listening. He liked her.

He couldn’t tell her that.

“That brokering thing you do. . ..”

Her brows shot up. “Yeah?”

“I’ll bet you’re good at it.”

She looked at him like he was loco. Confusion swam in her pretty green eyes, yet she gave him a smile - a real smile, not the wooden one she plastered on so often when they ventured on personal ground.

“Thanks, cowboy.” She stepped toward the door. “I’ll be back to say goodbye.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The unmistakable clip of boots on the tile floor warned Nick he had visitors way before the door to his room whooshed open. He’d been waiting to see Mitch ever since doing his stint in the Rapid City hospital. Nick had rehearsed the dressing down he planned to give the old man for his part in Nick’s traveling fiasco. But now that the time was at hand, not one contrary argument came to mind.

“Nick, you ol’ dog.” Mitch Cauldwell’s voice boomed in from the corridor as the door swung open. “How’s the head?”

Without waiting for an answer, Mitch stormed the room, Rachel in tow. Suddenly the space seemed too small as Mitch stopped beside Nick’s bed, his large frame blocking his view of Rachel.

“Forget my head.” Nick stifled a cringe at the increased sound level. “Thanks for leaving me to the wolves in Rapid City, friend.”

Rachel poked around her uncle and stood at the foot of his bed. She’d showered and changed into clean jeans and a different flannel shirt. A burgundy one, one that brought out the fiery highlights in her beautiful auburn hair. She fingered the cords draped around her neck. Funny, he didn’t remember her wearing them earlier that day.

“Wolves? I’ll remember that the next time you pass out on me,” she said with a grin that made his heart squeeze.

“Ha.” Mitch shook his head. “Wolves, nothin’. I knew Rachel’d get you here and in plenty of time for the Finale. What’s the doc say?”

Nick didn’t know what to say. The scan showed the swelling almost gone, but the clot still remained. “He said I could get out tomorrow.”

“Great. I’m still kinda shorthanded until the day after tomorrow when Joe gets back from the ranch. No problem, though. Rachel here, can pick you up and bring you to the arena.”

Rachel? “I thought you had to get back to Denver?”

“I do--” She plucked at the collar of her shirt with irritation, her fingers tangling with the chain around her neck.

Mitch, apparently oblivious to his niece’s annoyance, rubbed his hands together. “I talked her into helping her favorite uncle one more day.”

Nick felt his blood freeze to his very core. Rachel may have been handy doing a lot of things, but he didn’t want her taking any unnecessary chances, especially when driving alone in the snow. Besides, he’d imposed on her life enough. She needed to go home and he needed to get back to riding. “There’s a storm expected to blow in.”

“I’ve driven in snow before.” She gave them both a glare that rivaled the temperatures outside. “If the weather turns bad and you can’t spare a truck, Uncle Mitch, I’ll rent something with four-wheel drive to get me back to Denver. Don’t worry about me.”

Her anger caught him by surprise. Well, excuse his concern over her safety. “Of course, I forgot who I was talking to. Perfectly capable in every situation, right?”

The color drained from her face and he wished he could take the words back. Here he’d worked so hard to get her to open up, then he used her own words against her. Words spoken in haste made such a waste. Hadn’t he learned anything in four years?

“Whoo-ee. Don’t you two just sound like a couple of cats in a bag.” Mitch slapped the guard rail of the bed with glee sending a tremor through the mattress smack into Nick’s head. “Besides, it’s too late for her to rent a car tonight. She can’t see to drive in the dark, don’t you know?”

“So I discovered.” Nick shot Mitch a look. “Nice of you to bring that up now.”

“I’ll leave for Denver in the morning after I take you back to the hotel.” Rachel blew out a breath and stared out the window. “Not a big deal.”

“See?” Mitch agreed. “Now, like I was saying, I got the stock all ready to go. Armstrong Cattle’s here, too. Gus thinks his bull, Jelly Bean, is gonna get the better of you. I told ‘im he better think twice. Nick Davidson’s comin’ back good as new. . ..”

Nick watched Rachel as Mitch talked on. She stared blankly out the window, her lips pressed together and a frown crossing her forehead from time to time. Stocks and bonds. That was her life, hadn’t she said so earlier that morning? She was probably ticked about having to hang around an extra night. Well, he’d inconvenience her as little as possible. Let her get back to the hustle of the city. He knew better than to corral a filly that had other plans.

He swallowed the lump building in his throat. Other plans? He could care less about her plans. He needed to remember to see people for what they actually were, and not think they’d come around to his way of thinking. Besides, he didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out any more about Rachel Hill. He already knew too much.

His mind wandered to ranch hands going home for the night, snowstorms, and little girls drinking hot chocolate. Rachel had grown up on a ranch, a big spread, too, if he remembered Bud Hill’s stats. If that wasn’t enough, she had Mitch’s ranch to roam around on, too. Vast, green and peaceful. If she’d wanted ranch life, she’d have had plenty of options to explore. Obviously, wide open spaces didn’t appeal; she’d chosen the excitement of the city. He hadn’t been able to deal with Stephanie’s endless requests to join her family on vacations and he no desire to chase Rachel back to Denver. No accounting for some people’s choices.

Just like choosing the road life of the rodeo.

Where had that thought come from? Nick shook his head earning him a spike of pain down his spine. No comparison. Rodeo crowds vs. endless cocktail parties, two completely different choices. He’d had great reasons to hit the road rather than foreign villas with his in-laws.

“What’s wrong, Nick? You don’t like the plan?”

What plan? It didn’t matter. Even though Stephanie and Rachel were nothing alike, they were exactly alike. They both wanted more than Nick could give them. Not then; not now. Rachel was leaving tomorrow and good riddance. So why was he feeling so low?

“Not a problem, Mitch. Just get me out of here as soon as you can.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Mitch angled his broad frame away from the bed. “You just watch. Getting on that bull will make you feel good as new.” He looked around. “Rachel, you comin’?”

Rachel remained at the foot of the bed, her fingers plucking at the fabric of the bedspread. “In a minute, Uncle Mitch. I just want to make sure Nick will be ready to go tomorrow.”

“See you downstairs, then.” Mitch opened the door. “See you tomorrow, Nick.”

“Right, tomorrow.” He seemed to be parroting everything other people said lately. He watched Rachel inch around the bed, her eyes unreadable, the wooden smile back in place.

He hated that smile.

“Look, Rachel, I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I--”

She waved his apology away. “Not a problem. So, did the doctor say it was okay to ride?”

Thanks to years of practice, Nick felt his defenses fall in place, one by one. Rachel had a way of getting to the heart of each matter, especially the matters he didn’t want to discuss. He’d fallen into her trap a time or two, and had revealed more than he wanted to and didn’t plan to take that route again. “He said I was okay to leave the hospital and that’s good enough for me.”

She folded her arms over her mid-section. The shine of the panel light behind his bed washed her face in a pale glow that emphasized the lines around her mouth, and the circles beneath her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Nick refused to consider the reason.

She drew a breath as if she hadn’t the energy to talk. “There’s a big difference between being able to walk out of a hospital and being able to sit a bull.”

“Leave it alone.” He snapped his last shield into place, right over his heart.

“That’s your final answer?”

“For a million dollars,” he quoted the popular game show. Turning his cheek into his pillow, he stared at the blank wall. He didn’t want to go rounds with her about his choices. Rachel wouldn’t understand, all she’d do was try to fix it. Fix it. What a laugh. No one could fix his life.

After what seemed like the longest moment in history, he finally heard the purposeful steps of her boots as she left the room, leaving him behind. Emotions he’d banished long ago choked his breath as he listened to her footfalls echo down the corridor. He didn’t want her to leave, but he didn’t want to endure her judgment over his decisions either. He’d had enough of others’ opinions years ago and the guilt continued to chase him like a bulldogger after a steer.

Digging the heels of his palms into the mattress, he shifted square on the bed facing the window. The night clouds reflected light, giving credence to the forecast of snow. Against his will, the muscles in his forearms bunched as his hands formed fists.

He hated snowstorms. Hated their beauty; hated their fury.

Stephanie. If she’d waited until after the snowstorm, he’d have driven her to Denver to stay with her folks, to go on vacation with them. All her nagging for him to spend more time with her like her father had spent with his family. Couldn’t she see how differently they’d approached work? Art Bouchle delegated work so he could play; Nick Davidson worked so things got done right. Of course, Art had time to spend with his family … other people ran his show.

Nick had cattle to tend and he’d loved every minute of it. He’d never in his wildest dreams realized how miserable she’d been living at the ranch, how isolated she’d felt. All because of him.

Just like the biting emptiness he experienced now. Nick stared out the window as flakes floated past, remembering bits and pieces of unwelcome thoughts. The Circle D, the cattle, his house. His brothers. Good Lord, how he missed them all.

Call upon Me in the time of trouble and I will give you rest.

His eyelids drifted shut. Strange how memorized Scripture passages from long ago popped into his mind at the oddest times. In the time of trouble. . . Hadn’t he done that so very long ago? Hadn’t he dropped to his face on the wooden floor of their bedroom begging for mercy, for healing, for forgiveness? Memories of the evening he’d returned home from riding the mountain valleys and forests of his ranch, filling his heart and soul with the splendor of God’s creation to find his wife in a puddle of tears because her parents had flown to New York. What he viewed as heaven, she considered exile in a mountainous purgatory.

Nick squeezed his eyes against the hurt and rejection. None of his prayers had mattered.

Trust Me.

“Why?” Rage spewed the word into the empty room. Shocked by his own outcry, he took a deep breath and let the air hiss as he exhaled and calmed. “Why did she die?”

Nick waited for the shards of pain to rip through him, to confirm his guilt. With his hand, he covered his heart, a meager defense, yet the gesture provided some measure of control. A shield of defense to be wielded against future attacks.

A strange warmth tingled his fingertips and thoughts of Stephanie faded. He lifted his hand to his face, rubbing the newly shaved skin where earlier that morning, Rachel had stroked a night’s worth of stubble. His fingertips traced the path she’d imprinted into his mind, his life. The muscles in his cheeks re-formed and despite his agitation, he grinned.

Rachel Hill was something else, wasn’t she? Soft and gentle, she knew how to take the pain and make it less. . .get her riled and she became a little terrier fighting for a bone. He lowered his hand and his grin faded.

Nick frowned. His pat answer yearned to compare Rachel and Stephanie and find them cut from the same cloth, yet something just didn’t add up. Why didn’t he feel satisfied with his normal conclusions?

Call upon Me. . ..

Outside, the darkness deepened until the reflection of interior lights broke his thoughts. Reaching for the rolling bedside table, he pulled open the drawer. Nothing. Urgency ignited a desperation deep with him as he scanned the room, his gaze honing in on a shelf with a drawer beneath it built into the wall. Having had his IV tubes removed a while earlier, Nick swung his legs around and sat up. The pain in his head pounded. He shuffled over to the drawer, opened it and lifted out the prize inside.