Soul Deep, Page 2

  Someone was going to have a fun time digging that out.

  He drove to the access road and turned off the highway, stopping to lower the snowplow. It was slow going the rest of the way as he cleared the road. By the time he reached the pasture, the cattle were waiting for him.

  He parked the truck, got out, and climbed into the bed, cutting the cords that bound the bales and tossing hay over the fence to the hungry animals, mostly pregnant cows. They jostled against one another, lowing, their breath sending up clouds of condensation.

  “Mind your manners, ladies. Someone might think you were raised in a barn.”

  When he’d spread the hay out over the snow, he got back into his truck and headed home, his mind on a hot shower and strong coffee.

  Bitch and moan though he might, he loved this life. Other people were out there right now fighting traffic on the highway so they could sit in offices all day doing bullshit work for other people, and he was out here, breathing mountain air, being his own boss, and doing the kind of work that left a man’s body tired but his soul fulfilled.

  Back on the highway, he made a mental note to repair that fencepost once the owner of the car had their vehicle towed. As he passed the car, he saw that the headlights were flashing. Was someone down there?

  He pulled off onto the shoulder, parked, then called Chuck on his sat phone. “Hey, I’m on my way back. There’s a car off the road just past mile marker one-thirty-three. I think someone’s still in the vehicle. I’m going to check it out.”

  He turned on the truck’s hazard lights and pocketed his keys, then climbed out of the pickup. Why anyone had gone out in yesterday’s blizzard without all-wheel drive was beyond him. Didn’t they realize they were in Colorado?

  He grabbed a snow shovel out of the back, then crossed the road, snow squeaking under his boots. The slope was steep, and he slipped and slid his way down to the vehicle. A few minutes of shoveling, and he’d managed to unbury the driver’s side window.

  Through the frost-covered glass, he could just make out a woman’s face.

  She rolled down the window. “Jack West?”

  He found himself looking into a pair of familiar green eyes. Her dark hair was longer than the last time he’d seen her, and there were lines of weariness on her face. Still, he recognized her immediately.

  “Well, hello, there, SA Killeen. It seems you’ve run into a little trouble.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Janet stared up at him, unable to believe her bad luck. She’d only met him once, but she’d recognize him anywhere—those dark blue eyes, that square jaw, the thick salt-and-pepper hair, the dark brows, the rugged cheekbones.

  Of all the fences along all the highways in the entire state of Colorado, she just had to crash into his.

  Sluggish from cold and lack of sleep, she found herself explaining. “I … I slid off the road yesterday morning. The truck in front of me swerved, and the next thing I knew ... Sorry about the fencepost.”

  She expected him to say something cutting or to make fun of drivers who didn’t know how to handle the roads in snow, but he didn’t.

  “You’ve been down here since yesterday morning?”

  “I tried to call for a tow, but ... ”

  He shook his head. “Your cell phone won’t do you a damned bit of good here. Let’s get you to my truck. Your car isn’t going anywhere, I’m afraid.”

  She pushed aside the space blanket she’d wrapped herself in and reached for her cane, a wave of humiliation washing over her to think of him seeing her like this. “I … I can’t make it up the embankment. I tried.”

  She’d tried several times, but it was just too much for her left leg.

  His gaze dropped to her cane, but he showed no surprise. He must have heard she’d been shot. “We’ll figure it out. Can you stand?”

  “Yes.”

  He opened the door and lifted it out of her way with one arm.

  She turned in her seat so that both of her feet were out of the car, then slowly stood, her hip and pelvis screaming after yesterday’s exertions and so many hours of immobility. She couldn’t help the catch in her breath or keep herself from wincing.

  “Easy does it. It’s deep and slick out here.” He caught her arm at the elbow.

  The contact sent a strange awareness arcing through her, and she jerked her arm away so abruptly that she surprised even herself. She tried to think up an excuse. “I … I need to grab my things.”

  “I’ll come back for them. Let’s just get you to the truck. I’m concerned that you might be hypothermic.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. She’d been forced to turn off her engine and her heater with it when she’d realized that snow was blocking the tailpipe and she’d risk carbon monoxide poisoning if she left it running. The night had been bitter cold. “Okay.”

  He turned toward the embankment, put himself on her left side. “Why don’t you wrap your arm around my shoulder? Let’s try doing this three-legged-race style.”

  Cane in her right hand, she did as he’d suggested, then drew back, contact sending that same uncomfortable awareness through her. “Can’t you just throw down a rope and pull me up?”

  “You want me to winch you up like a cow?” The expression on his face told her that was not going to happen. “Come on. I won’t bite. I promise.”

  “You did last time.”

  “Last time, you were playing federal agent on my land. This time, you’re a stranded friend in need of my help.”

  That was news. “When did we become friends?”

  He glared down at her. “If you want me to leave you here—”

  “No! Please. Thank you.” She put her arm around his shoulder.

  He caught her around the waist. “Step off on your right foot.”

  She took a step, felt herself begin to slide.

  Strong arms steadied her, kept her from slipping. “Don’t put weight on your left leg. Let me do the work on this side.”

  She hopped, his arms holding her fast, his boots gripping the snow, the embankment so steep that if she had leaned out, she would almost have been able to touch it.

  Hop. Hop. Hop.

  Slowly, they moved upward. She didn’t know if it was exhaustion or the cold or the altitude, but it was hard work, her left foot dragging in the snow.

  Hop. Hop. Hop.

  “That’s it. We’re almost there.”

  “I have to stop.” Janet had been a track champion in high school and college. She wasn’t used to feeling so weak—or needing anyone’s help.

  He wasn’t breathing hard at all. “There’s no rush. My truck won’t go anywhere without us.”

  She fought to catch her breath, her heartbeat slowly returning to normal, the icy air burning her lungs. She found herself leaning against him and jerked herself upright. “I’m good to go.”

  Hop. Hop. Hop.

  Up they climbed, Jack somehow managing to keep the two of them from slipping, his body moving with the confidence and agility of a man who’d lived his entire life in the outdoors.

  The low growl of a diesel engine and the scrape of a plow on the road announced the approach of another CDOT plow.

  “Oh, great.” Janet had heard that sound many times during the night, each pass resulting in another wave of snow that had buried her deeper. “Get ready.”

  “Shit.” In a single move, Jack pivoted to stand in front of her, turned his back to the road, and drew her against him, using his body to shield her from the brunt of the snow and slush that rained down on them. “Damned idiots.”

  She looked up at him, her head filled with his scent—pine, fresh air, a hint of spicy shaving cream. “Thanks.”

  He took his place at her side again. “Ready?”

  Hop. Hop. Hop. Hop. Hop.

  And then they were at the top of the embankment, the road an icy ribbon between them and Jack’s pickup.

  Again Janet had to stop. “Please … I just … have to… catch my breath.”

  W
ith no warning, Jack scooped her off her feet and into his arms.

  She gave a little shriek. “What—?”

  “I’ve got you.” He crossed the highway and went around the back of the truck to the passenger side door. Somehow he managed to open it, then lifted her into the seat. “I’ll be right back.”

  In another few minutes, he returned with her suitcase and handbag, stowing the former in the back of the cab and handing her the latter, before climbing into the driver’s seat. “Where were you headed?”

  He started the engine, merged back onto the highway.

  “I have a reservation for a week at the Forest Creek Inn in Scarlet Springs. I wanted to see the aspens.”

  “We can call them from the ranch, let them know you’re okay. I know Bob and Kendra Jewell. They’ll be worried about you.”

  “You’re... you’re taking me to the Cimarron?” She’d thought he’d been offering to take her to Scarlet Springs.

  “Scarlet Springs is a good two hours up the road, and there’s more snow in the forecast. I can’t see it would do you any good to be up there without your vehicle. How would you get back? Besides, I doubt you’re up for the drive.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she didn’t want to go to his damned ranch, but she knew he was right. She wasn’t up for the drive, and if he did take her to Scarlet Springs, she’d be stuck there.

  “We’ll get you fed, warm you up, and you can get some sleep. I can’t imagine it was comfortable sitting in that car for 24 hours.”

  Was this the same Jack West she’d met last February?

  “Why are you being so nice?”

  He glanced over at her. “I know our first meeting was confrontational, but let’s just say you don’t know me very well if you think I’d let a woman who’s cold, hungry, tired, and in obvious pain deal with this situation by herself. If that’s not good enough for you, then know that my family owes you a great debt. Javier Corbray is my son’s best friend. He dragged Nate out of a burning vehicle in Afghanistan and saved his life. That makes him and his bride, Laura Nilsson, family.”

  “I see.” Because that sounded cold and ungrateful, she added, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The truck’s heater pumped delicious warm air through the cab. Within minutes, she found herself fighting to stay awake. It couldn’t have been more than a half an hour when they turned off the highway and another five minutes after that when the ranch house appeared in the distance. The sight of it roused her from her stupor.

  It was even more beautiful than she’d remembered. Its steep, multiple gables made her think of Swiss chalets, while the stone and log construction was western. Several stone chimneys rose up from the roof, dozens of windows stretching skyward, making her think of European cathedrals, the glass reflecting the mountains that surrounded them. The front door was set back from a portico driveway that was accented by a colonnade of polished logs. Off to the west stood several corrals and large outbuildings, including what looked like a riding hall.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Jack smiled. “My grandfather bought the land to run cattle. My father took over from him. He expanded the holdings, added horse breeding, built most of the outbuildings. Theresa and I rebuilt the house.”

  Janet had just assumed the West family was made of money and had bought the ranch recently—a mountain trophy house. She hadn’t realized it was part of a true ranching legacy. “Is Theresa your wife?”

  “Yes—or she was. She passed on about seven years ago.”

  Janet didn’t miss the note of sadness in his voice. She hadn’t meant to tread on sensitive ground. “I’m sorry.”

  # # #

  Jack drove the pickup to the side of the house and pulled into the five-car garage. By the time he’d climbed out and reached the passenger side, Janet had already opened her door and begun to climb down, her right foot reaching for the concrete.

  He took her arm, steadied her. “I’ll bring in your stuff. You just head inside where it’s warm. The kitchen’s through there.”

  He grabbed her suitcase out of the cab and followed her in through the mudroom, where he stopped to take off his wet boots before moving on again.

  “I’ll set you up in the guest room. You can take a hot shower or lie down and rest while I make us some lunch and coffee.” He led her down the hallway and put her in the room next to his. It was the only guestroom that wouldn’t force her to use the stairs. He set her suitcase down and turned up the thermostat. “You’ve got your own bathroom. It’s got radiant heat. Turn the thermostat up as high as you like. Towels are in the cupboard. There’s a landline on the nightstand if you need to make calls.”

  “Wow. This is amazing.”

  “Make yourself at home, SA Killeen.”

  “Janet.” She sat on the bed. “It’s Janet.”

  “I’ll have lunch ready in thirty minutes, Janet—unless you’d rather sleep.”

  Those green eyes went wide. “Oh, no, please. I’m starving.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.” He turned and left her in peace, then made his way back to the mudroom, where he finally slipped off his wet parka and hung it on its hook before putting his boots on the boot dryer.

  Back in the kitchen, he washed his hands, then got last night’s leftover chili out of the refrigerator, dumped it in a pot, and turned the burner on low, the spicy scent sparking his hunger. He’d made a big batch yesterday afternoon, only to find out that Nate and the girls would be staying in Denver. Now the extra would make for a solid lunch, and it would taste even better than it had last night.

  Jack liked it when things balanced themselves like that, the chaos and asymmetries of life coming together in surprising ways to achieve order.

  While the chili reheated, he mixed up a batch of cornbread, popped it into the oven, then set the table. He’d never cooked when Theresa was alive. For a time after her death, he’d survived off frozen meals and whiskey. But with his wife gone and Nate downrange fighting Al Qaeda, Jack had realized he either needed to learn to cook or get used to being hungry and drunk. To his surprise, he’d discovered he enjoyed cooking.

  He had a few minutes, so he called the Forest Creek Inn and told Bob Jewell what had happened, then called Chuck to let him know he was back. “I don’t know how we’re going to get her car out of there, but we won’t worry about that now.”

  He hung up, heard the tap of her cane on the floor, and glanced over his shoulder to see her enter the kitchen. She walked with a pronounced limp, her left foot dragging, but that’s not what held his attention.

  Damn, she was pretty.

  Her dark hair was still damp, hanging below her shoulders in wet tendrils. She wore no makeup, her face perfect without it. She’d put on a pair of gray leggings and a white angora sweater that clung a bit too nicely to her curves. Even standing over a pot of chili, he could smell the clean scent of her shampoo.

  Back off, West, you old goat!

  She was young enough to be his daughter, for God’s sake. She couldn’t be much older than Nate—late thirties, maybe early forties—and he was sixty-three. His mind had no business heading off in that direction, even if she had felt mighty sweet in his arms when he’d carried her.

  “Better?”

  She nodded. “Yes, thank you. That smells incredible.”

  “Leftover chili.” He lifted the lid, stirred the pot. “Have a seat. As soon as the cornbread is done, we’ll be ready to eat. What can I get you to drink?”

  She winced as she sat. “Coffee with milk would be great. Thank you.”

  It was a damned shame that she’d been wounded at such a young age. She would have to deal with this for the rest of her life, just like Nate had to cope with his burns. Sometimes life was brutally unfair.

  He poured her a cup of coffee, set it with the milk on the table, then busied himself serving lunch, getting the chili into bowls, pulling the cornbread out of the oven, putting a couple of thi
ck wedges on plates, setting the butter crock on the table. When the meal was served, he sat across from her. “Dig in.”

  She took a bite of the chili, then stared at him in surprise. “This is really good.”

  “Damned straight it is. I’d feign modesty, but why bother?”

  That made her smile, little dimples appearing in her cheeks. “Is it an old family recipe?”

  He’d never seen her smile before, and the effect had his pulse skipping. “You could say that. I’ve made a few changes over the years. Bourbon is my secret ingredient. After Theresa died, I found that cooking with her recipes made her seem closer.”

  Janet’s delicate brow bent in a frown. “I can understand that. My parents died when I was five. My grandparents raised my sister and me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Jack thought of his precious little Emily and how hard it would be for her if Nate and Megan were somehow killed. It made his heart ache. He pushed the thought away. “It’s a hell of a thing to lose someone you love.”

  “Yes, it is.” Janet ate the rest of her meal with the unselfconscious gusto of the truly hungry, polishing off her bowl of chili in silence, then eating the slice of cornbread. “Would you mind if I have seconds?”

  “No, I would not mind.” He stood, picked up her bowl, and refilled it. “You may have thirds and fourths, too, if you like. There’s plenty.”

  She ate the second bowl more slowly, stopping to sip her coffee. It wouldn’t be long before exhaustion took over.

  “You said you were heading up to Scarlet Springs to see the aspens.”

  She nodded, held the coffee cup between her palms as if to warm her fingers. “It’s an annual ritual of mine, one of the few times I get out of the city. I’d been hoping to do some horseback riding, too. It’s one of my favorite—was one of my favorite escapes. I’m not sure I can still manage it.”

  “You’ll find a way.” That gave Jack an idea. “You know, we’ve got aspens, and we’ve got horses and a riding hall. Why don’t you spend your week here? It’s free. The accommodations are first rate. The food is terrific, if I do say so myself. And we won’t have to worry about getting you up to Scarlet Springs and back.”