Her Cowboy Boss Page 6

  Meredith had shed tears reading the account, and tears burned her eyes now as she prayed for the words to soothe the hurt she had caused with her thoughtlessness. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head and went after Stark.

  Chapter Five

  Stark stood against the wall next to the trash can, his thumbs hooked in his belt, one knee bent, the sole of his booted foot braced against the cool sheet metal. The raised channels of the siding bit into his shoulder blades while storm-gray clouds scudded against a gunmetal sky. The weather suited his mood, but on that day four years ago it had been warm and bright and clear, a perfect day for driving, for giving thanks. A day of death.

  A whiff of coconut danced on the warm, rain-scented air. Everything in him tightened, alerted, but then Meredith stepped through the stable door, and against his will, against common sense, against everything he knew and wanted, he relaxed. It was as if, now that she knew, he could no longer maintain his distance. She had breached the chasm with her knowledge of his dark past, his great loss. He wanted to hate her for that. Instead, he felt a pathetic relief.

  Putting his head back against the cold metal siding, he drew air in through his nostrils and asked, “How did you find out?”

  He cut his eyes down to find her bowing her head as if in shame. “I did an internet search last night after you left and read a newspaper account of the accident.”

  Stark sighed and shifted around. “The truck trailer turned over on my wife’s car. I was driving. Catherine and Belinda were sitting on the passenger side, Cathy in the front, Bel in the back.” He closed his eyes. “I was knocked out. Couple broken bones. Bel died instantly, Cathy on the way to the hospital.”

  “Four years ago today,” Meredith whispered, tears spilling from her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Stark.” She reached out a hand, but he stepped back, straightening. Something told him he’d break if she touched him just then, shatter into pieces too small ever to reassemble.

  He cleared his throat of a sudden lump. “I didn’t know until almost twenty-four hours later. So I’m never quite sure which date should be emblazoned in my memory.”

  “Both,” Meredith said. “Every day, actually. Each and every day with them should be commemorated in some way.”

  Astounded by the idea, he shook his head, confessing, “Mostly I just try to forget.”

  “But that’s impossible, isn’t it? And why would you forget when that would mean letting go of all the good times?”

  Good times that were over and gone. Good times that broke his heart.

  Frowning, he shook his head. “Are you telling me that you don’t try to forget the awful thing that happened to you?”

  She folded her arms, her hands chaffing her sleeves as if she was suddenly chilled. “That’s different.”

  “Is it?”

  One of her hands crept up and rubbed a spot above her left breast. “Yes. I didn’t know the man who attacked me, had no history with him. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been some other woman. There’s nothing pleasant or happy to remember about him, other than the fact that he didn’t manage to kill me.”

  Anger roared through Stark. “He tried to kill you?”

  She nodded, shivering. “He told me to be quiet and let him do what he wanted and he wouldn’t hurt me, but I screamed and struggled,” she said in a low, husky voice. “So he stabbed me.”

  Stark felt himself shaking and knotted his hands into fists to quell the motion. “He literally stabbed you?”

  Once again she touched the spot on the left side of her chest. “My necklace deflected the blade. I have a scar, but the cut wasn’t even nearly fatal, and he didn’t get a second chance because people heard me and ran to my rescue.”

  “That must’ve been some necklace.”

  She dipped her fingers into her sweater and pulled out a chain with a gold cross dangling from it. It was about two inches long and maybe three-eighths-of-an-inch wide at its heart, and it showed a definite dent. “I always wear it.”

  “Wow. I can see why.” He stepped closer, cupping the cross in his hand. A fraction of an inch either way and she wouldn’t be here now. “Did they catch him?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Frustration simmered in Stark. He dropped the necklace and stepped back. “How do you deal with that?”

  Shrugging, she tucked the necklace back into her sweater. “Any way I can.”

  “When did this happen?” he asked, struggling to keep his anger leashed.

  Head tilted, she seemed to have to actually think about it. “Over three years ago now. Yes, it was three years in June.”

  She’d been all of twenty-three at the time. “And you didn’t come home after it happened?”

  “I couldn’t. I have to work.” Looking up at the roiling clouds, she softly added, “Besides, I wasn’t going to let him take anything more than I had to. He took my sense of power and safety, my trust in my fellow man, my natural tendency to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. For a while, he took my joy, my happiness. I’m still working on opening up.” She looked down, adding, “I’ve never told my family.”

  Shocked, Stark felt his eyebrows jump, not because he didn’t understand. This he understood only too well. Some pains were too personal, too deep and incapacitating to talk about. No, he was shocked because he truly hadn’t expected to hold something so uniquely in common with her. He had a difficult time talking about his trauma even with those who knew of his loss.

  “They won’t hear about it from me,” he promised. “No one will.”

  She looked him squarely in the eye then, and softly said, “I know.”

  Both shaken and warmed, he felt the sharp edge of a moist wind at his back. Without even realizing he was going to do it, he took hold of her, his hand completely encircling her arm just above the elbow. The contact rocked him. Apparently it jolted her, too, for she looked down, jerking slightly.

  “We’d better go in,” he said, feeling a tingly warmth flow through him, as if his nerve endings were awakening. “Rain’s coming.”

  Casting another glance at the sky, she let him turn her through the door and back into the darkened interior of the stable. Horses shifted and blew, content in their stalls. Rex and one of the hands had been in earlier to turn them out and drop new feed. Most had wandered back in to eat. Stark had closed stall gates to ensure that none of the animals got curious and bothered Soldier. The pair of horses that had remained in the paddock came trotting in with the wind, seeking the comfort of their stalls. Stark pulled Meri back against the wall until the horses settled, then quickly closed the remaining open gates.

  Soldier hadn’t yet fully roused, but he swung his big head and blew through his nostrils, making guttural sounds as if testing his throat. Stark trickled some water deep into the animal’s mouth in case his throat was dry, and the old stud settled somewhat. When he turned back to Meredith, he found her perched atop the feed barrel, watching him, a small smile playing about her pretty lips.

  No woman had looked at him with any apparent appreciation since Cathy had died. It unnerved him. Just as he was about to suggest that she ought to get back to the house to see about Wes, the deluge hit, drumming against the metal roof over their heads like dull thunder.

  He pushed a hand over his face and tried to think what to say, but she beat him to it, asking in a purely conversational tone, “How’d you wind up in Ponca City?”

  The simple, true answer seemed the easiest. “I bought into a practice there. My partner was older, looking to retire and leave the practice in good hands.” He could have left it at that, but for some reason he went on. “I married his daughter. It was a good life. When he retired, I took on another partner. Then, when Cathy died, I walked away from it all.” He shook his head and gave her the unvarnished truth. “I ran.” He parked his hands at his bel
t and admitted, “That’s how I wound up here.”

  Meri said nothing to that, just pulled up one knee and hugged it. “I read that the truck driver apologized over and over before he died.”

  Cocking his own knee, Stark looked at the scuffed and scarred toe of his old boot. “That’s what they told me.” Again, he spilled his guts for no good reason. “That’s always been one of the worst parts, not knowing who to be mad at—him or me.”

  “You?” she yelped. “Why would you be mad at yourself?”

  So he told her how he’d delayed their departure that day so he could watch a football game on TV. “My dad’s a coach. If I couldn’t watch the game with him, I wanted to be able to at least discuss it with him. I mean, isn’t that what Thanksgiving is really about?” he asked in disgust.

  “Thanksgiving?” she echoed uncertainly. It was October, after all, not November.

  “It was our year to spend the actual holiday with Cathy’s folks,” he explained, leaning against the stall wall, “so we were on our way to celebrate with my family a month early. The Burns family has a tradition, a month of Thanksgiving. That way they can work in all the in-laws and grandparents.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  “Yeah, until somebody gets killed.”

  For a moment she said nothing to that. Then very softly she ventured, “It’s impossible to make sense of that.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I’m not sure everything is supposed to make sense to us now,” she said carefully. “I think that some things simply must be accepted. Sometimes, I think that’s all God expects of us, just our acceptance.”

  Part of him rebelled at the very idea. Just accept as his lot in life, the senseless deaths of his wife and daughter? He’d never be able to do that! Yet, another part of him, a part he didn’t even want to acknowledge but couldn’t quite deny, reached hungrily for that acceptance, as if along that way lay peace. But did it? How could it possibly?

  Abruptly, as if God had shut off a faucet, the rain stopped. Soldier bobbed his head and swished his tail, blowing gently through his nostrils as he nosed Stark’s pocket for possible food. In that instant, Stark made a decision. Rather, he acknowledged the decision that he’d already made.

  “You have a job with me as soon as your dad and this old horse can spare you.”

  Meri hopped off the barrel, beaming. “Oh, Stark! Thank you!”

  For all the world, she looked as if she might hug him. He got out of there before she could do or say anything to change his mind, snagging his kit on the way and calling out that he would be back.

  What, he wondered, had he gotten himself into? One thing was certain—his quiet, solitary existence had just come to an end. He could only hope he wouldn’t live to regret it.

  * * *

  She didn’t see him for two days. Meri wasn’t sure why she’d avoided Stark. She sat on the porch swing, swaddled in one of her dad’s old sweaters, holding a cup of hot tea while trying to puzzle it out. She had misjudged him, chalking up his curmudgeonly ways to personality and nothing more. Once she knew the tragic truth, she found herself unsure of a lot of things. She even began to wonder why she’d never told her family about the attack.

  Oh, she’d told herself that she hadn’t wanted to worry them, that they were still processing her mom’s sudden death, that they’d insist she give up nursing and come home like a child who needed supervision. The old reasons seemed shallow and silly now, and as long as she could come up with no satisfactory answers, she felt compelled to keep her distance, especially from Stark. And she couldn’t say why.

  He’d always bothered her. Something about him had always dug at her, like an itch beneath her skin, something she couldn’t quite scratch. When he’d touched her to guide her into shelter, she’d been stunned. He’d done exactly what her attacker had done before he’d dragged her between the cars and turned her to face him. He’d taken her by the arm, just above the elbow. Her attacker had done it to keep her from running. Stark had meant only to steer her to safety out of the storm, and even as she’d been prepared to recoil, she hadn’t. Instead, all she’d felt was... She didn’t know what she’d felt. Lightning?

  Thinking about it now, she couldn’t help asking herself if working with Stark would be the smart thing to do. After all, she was a trained registered nurse. What did she know about veterinary medicine? What did she really know about him? When it came right down to it, she’d guessed that she’d blown any chance of working for him, but then he’d surprised her with the job offer. Without a single detail, she’d leaped at it and then wondered afterward what she’d gotten herself into.

  How like her. She’d done the same thing with nursing. At the time, so soon after her mom’s unexpected death, nursing had seemed like the right thing. Only later had she realized that the odds of being able to work close to home were slim to none, which left her with exactly two options. It was Stark or return to Oklahoma City.

  As if in answer to that dilemma, Stark Burns appeared on the pathway, his dark hat and denim jacket dappled with morning light through the rusty leaves overhead. His truck had been parked on the side of the road all night again, but he hadn’t come to the house either of the last two mornings. Meredith had left Stark’s coffee and breakfast for Rex to take when he went to turn out the horses. Rex had returned both mornings behaving as if nothing was out of the ordinary, relaying brief instructions for her concerning Soldier’s care during the day while Stark had to be away seeing to other patients. Stark himself had not put in an appearance until now. He stopped at the edge of the porch and lifted one booted foot, propping it against the edge of the porch floor.

  After pushing back his hat, he crossed his hands over his knee and leaned forward. “Horse is much improved.”

  Meredith let out a breath of relief. “Glad to hear it. I thought so myself yesterday.”

  “He’s standing on his own and eating his mash, but I’m going to leave the IV and sling in place through today, just to make sure he’s getting plenty of nutrition and fluids. We’ll untether him this evening. You’ll need to check on him a couple times during the night.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll check him daily for a while. Then we can leave him be.”

  “Sounds good. Will you tell Dad? He’ll want to hear it from you.”

  “I’m not exactly presentable,” Stark said, stroking his unshaved jaw with his thumb and fingers. The gesture did strange things to Meri’s breathing.

  Setting aside her tea, she hopped up from the swing and shoved back the sleeves of the sweater, which hung to her knees. She chirped brightly, “Like Dad’ll care.”

  Stark shifted his foot back to the ground and straightened, resettling his hat forward on his head. Meri gulped. Had he always been that good-looking? Turning abruptly, she hurried into the house, Stark following. She glanced back to see him removing his hat, but he kept it in hand. He paused when they passed through the kitchen and raised his hat in greeting to Callie, who sat at the table with Bodie.

  “Morning, Stark,” she said.

  Unwilling to be left out, Bodie exclaimed, “Mor’in!” She then smiled, showing him her new teeth—and her breakfast.

  “Morning, ladies,” Stark said. “Callie, I want to thank you for having fed me so well during this time.”

  “Wasn’t any bother,” Callie said. “Are you done, then?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I believe it is.”

  “Praise God!” Callie said, clasping her hands together. Bodie instantly bowed her head, obviously expecting to pray.

  Meri smiled, holding back a chuckle. “We’re just going to tell Dad,” she explained.

  She led Stark into the back hallway and tapped on her father’s door.
>
  “Come in,” he called.

  Meri walked into the room and found him sitting fully dressed on the hospital bed, his Bible open on his lap. “Daddy,” she said, stepping aside, “Stark’s got something to tell you.”

  Stark angled past her into her room, going to lean a hip against the dresser. “Wes,” he said, nodding in greeting, “you’re looking better.”

  It was true. Her father had a healthy skin tone again, and his hair was beginning to grow back. It was just fuzz atop his head right now—and white fuzz at that—but hair, nonetheless. He seemed to have more energy lately, too.

  “Never mind about me,” Wes said, glancing hopefully between them. “How’s my horse?”

  “He’s looking better, too,” Stark said. He explained in detail, finishing with, “Barring any relapses, I think he’ll recover fully.”

  Wes sighed richly, closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “That’s music to these old ears. Thank you, Stark. We owe you a big one for this. Whatever it is, you just send the bill, and we’ll gladly pay it.”

  Stark chuckled. “Wish all my clients were so willing. Of course, you will be getting the employee discount.” He addressed Meri then. “That is not to say you’ll be getting your first paycheck out of this. We’ll consider tomorrow your first official day on the job.”

  Wes sat bolt upright on the bed. “Meri? Am I getting this right? You’re going to work for Stark?”

  Well, she could’ve handled this better. Smiling gamely, she stepped into the room and nodded. “That’s right, Daddy. It’s okay with you, isn’t it, if I come home to stay?”

  Before she knew what was happening, he was off the bed and coming around it, his arms opened wide. “Oh, sugar! This is wonderful news!”

  Only then did she realize that some part of her had feared he wouldn’t be thrilled, that he’d question her choices and decisions, had always secretly questioned them. Feeling her father’s arms engulf her settled something for Meredith, healed something broken within her. She laughed, mostly to hide the tears that suddenly threatened her.