Читать книгу: «A Family In Wyoming»

Chapter One

June

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.”

None of his brothers had dared to laugh at him. But her friendly gurgle was such a rich sound that he couldn’t dredge up the least bit of dudgeon. Wyatt grinned. “Could be.”

“Do you still have the horse?”

He nodded. “I’ll break him next summer, when he’s a year older and smarter. Sometimes they have to have more age on them.”

“Meanwhile, you’re going to spend this summer working with young humans, helping them become smarter.”

“So we hope. As the local social worker, Caroline collaborated with Garrett to propose a summer camp for troubled kids on the Circle M and I liked the idea—though I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, wearing this stupid brace.”

He hadn’t shared that hesitation with his brothers or Caroline when they’d discussed their plans. There was something about Susannah Bradley that turned him positively chatty. “I’m not used to spending my days in the house.”

“I wouldn’t expect so.” She yawned suddenly and put up a hand to cover her mouth. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s late. And you’ve had a hard day. You should get some sleep. Anything you need?”

“Nothing at all.” A soft blush colored her face. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to repay your family for giving us refuge—”

Wyatt put up a hand and shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. We’re glad to help. Now go to bed. I’m the boss around here and that’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.” Smiling, she crossed to the hallway door. “You’re very kind,” she said, before she left the kitchen.

Wyatt snorted to himself. Taking care of women and children didn’t fall into the category of “kind,” in his opinion. That was just a man’s responsibility.

Susannah Bradley had obviously encountered a different type of behavior. Wyatt had never met her husband, but he’d heard talk about him around town. Travis Bradley had shown up about a year ago, asking for work at ranches in the area and bragging about his cowboying skills, his rodeo wins. Nobody who’d hired him kept him on for long because he eventually showed up drunk—or didn’t show up at all.

Then Caroline Donnelly had proposed holding a summer camp for at-risk kids on the Circle M Ranch. Nate Bradley was one of those kids, a teenager who’d kept his secrets until tonight. Ford had encountered Nate’s dad at a recent rodeo and then rejected the man when he came looking for a job on the Circle M. Thank goodness he had, since they’d now discovered just how bad Nate’s home life could be when Travis took out his frustrations on his wife and kids.

But the Marshalls, with help from Caroline, would ensure that Travis never hurt his family again. As a lawyer, Ford would use his expertise to keep Bradley at a distance while Susannah figured out her next steps. Surely she had family she and her kids could count on for protection.

Realizing he was a long way from sleep himself, Wyatt poured a new cup of coffee as he considered the situation. Since her family had clearly been of little help to Susannah so far, maybe they wouldn’t take care of her and the kids the way they should now. In that case, she’d have to make her own way somehow, somewhere. But he couldn’t believe she would choose to stay with the man who left those marks on her skin. No woman deserved that kind of abuse. If she didn’t believe that fact, they would have to help her understand.

Returning to the living room, he eased himself into the rocking chair and picked up his book. Slumber didn’t come easily to him these days, since lying down flat in bed hurt his back. So did sitting and standing, but at least he could occupy his mind while he was awake, instead of lying there useless in the dark.

Rather than reading, though, he found himself thinking about Susannah—with more attention to detail than was good for him. That silky hair, those plump lips...long, slender legs under a denim skirt...a straight spine, conveying pride and strength. Graceful, gentle hands, which could comfort a child.

Or pleasure a man.

This time he growled for real, low in his throat. The woman was married. Even if the marriage ended, she’d been treated badly by a man she ought to be able to trust. Why would she take such a risk ever again?

Besides, at the age of thirty-six, Wyatt considered himself a confirmed bachelor, not a prospect for happily-ever-after. Too set in his ways, too busy for romantic nonsense, too cranky to live with young kids. His brothers would testify to his contrary ways. They argued with him about it often enough.

So getting to know Susannah Bradley as anything besides a casual friend would not be wise. He would help her all he could and then send her and her kids on their way to a new, better life. That was the best he could do for them.

And the safest thing he could do for himself.

* * *

EARLIER THAT NIGHT, frantic and ashamed, Susannah had grabbed a nightgown while throwing together some clothes to bring away with her. But she hadn’t realized it was this white one—the one with narrow straps, a low neckline and gossamer fabric that didn’t leave much to the imagination. She’d found it in a thrift shop when they’d lived in South Dakota, about a year after Amber was born. Travis had kept the same job for six months and life seemed to be straightening out, finally. Maybe, she’d thought, they could make another baby. She would love to have more children.

Then the drinking got out of hand again, as it always did. He was fired from the job, couldn’t find another, and so they moved on to Wyoming—Gillette, Sheridan, Buffalo, and now Bisons Creek, where their marriage and their life together had fallen to pieces.

Biting her lower lip, she folded up the nightgown and stuffed it to the bottom of her duffel bag, then eased down on top of the bedcovers still wearing her clothes. This serene bedroom, in shades of cream and coffee, was far and away the most luxurious place she’d stayed since leaving her parents’ home. It was furnished with a queen-sized bed draped with a cozy comforter and softened by plenty of pillows, a dresser with a mirror above and two armchairs for relaxing, plus a private bathroom. The Marshall brothers offered their guests all the amenities she imagined could be found in an expensive hotel.

And her little girl had taken full advantage. Curled up on her side, a chubby thumb pressed into that pouty lower lip and blond curls tousled across the pillowcase, Amber slept deeply. She must be exhausted.

Her mother certainly was, but sleep had never seemed further away. Her brain wrestled endlessly with the mistakes of the past and the troubles of the present—not to mention the questions posed by an unknown future. Eyes burning, she yawned and shifted position but simply could not relax enough to doze off.

After two restless hours, she sighed and sat up, swinging her legs off the bed. Maybe a glass of water would help. Or a walk around the house. At this late hour, she wouldn’t disturb anyone. She’d leave her shoes off to be sure she didn’t make any noise on the wooden floors.

The long hallway was dark, all the doors except for the kitchen’s closed. There, a light shone above the sink. She opened the upper cabinet to the right and found the drinking glasses just where she’d expect them to be. Smiling at having guessed correctly the first time, Susannah drank down two full tumblers of water and then set the glass in the dishwasher. She took a few minutes to appreciate the room yet again—she could picture racks of cookies and fragrant loaves of bread cooling on all this counter space. Amaretto cakes baked for Christmas, tomatoes and green beans and pickles canned in the summertime, a big Thanksgiving dinner with turkey and dressing and sweet potatoes and pies... This kitchen could produce all sorts of wonderful food for friends and family to enjoy.

She’d sorely missed friends and family since she and Travis got married. The only friends he ever made were his drinking buddies. His mother had disowned them both when she heard about their wedding. Her parents had been so hurt when she ran away, though they still called on her birthday...if they could find her. She and Travis had moved around a lot.

Remembering the home she’d left thirteen years ago, Susannah sighed and stepped toward the dining room. A kitchen like this was a dream she couldn’t envision for herself. To be honest, she had no idea what she was supposed to do now. She didn’t deserve anything special, but her children needed something better than they’d had. A safe, stable life. How would she manage that on her own? Where would they go?

Pushing through the dining room door, she was surprised to see a light on in the living room...and even more surprised to find Wyatt Marshall seated in the rocking chair.

She stopped short. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would still be up.”

He shook his head. “No problem. Can’t sleep?” A big man, with broad shoulders and long legs, he seemed to dominate the spacious room. The big, golden dog lay at his feet, its tail thumping the floor.

Susannah swallowed against a sudden surge of nervousness. “Not yet.”

“Sometimes your brain won’t shut off even when you need it to.” Thanks to the brace he wore, he was sitting bolt upright in the rocker, looking anything but comfortable. The strong planes of his face created an impression of austerity. But his deep-set brown eyes were compassionate. “Garrett is right. Worry and regrets won’t change anything tonight. Right now your kids are safe. You’ve got friends you can count on. Your troubles will keep until morning.”

“Until morning. Got it.” Seeking a distraction, she nodded toward the book in his hand. “Is the story so good it’s keeping you awake?”

A smile widened his well-shaped lips. “My back keeps me awake, but the book gives me something to focus on besides how much I’d rather be in bed.” After a pause, he cleared his throat. “Asleep.”

“What is the story about?”

With a finger marking his place, he showed her the cover, which featured a sword and a shield. “The Battle of Thermopylae in 480 BC.”

Susannah frowned. “I don’t know what that is. Was.”

“A small force of Greek soldiers held off the Persian army for a week and then lost their lives defending a narrow pass through the hills. The soldiers’ example inspired the rest of the country, and eventually the Persians were defeated in their attempt to take over all of Europe. It’s a pretty important moment in history.”

Examining the shelves flanking the fireplace, she saw that many of the volumes were about war. “Are battles your favorite subject?”

He came to join her in front of the books. “I enjoy history, especially military history. So much of human destiny has been decided on the battlefield.”

She realized just how tall he was when she had to look up at his face. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

His keen gaze met hers. “Facts are facts. If you aren’t familiar with the past, you’re just going to repeat it.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that quote before. But maybe we use the past too often as a pattern, instead of searching for new solutions.”

Wyatt closed his book and slotted it into an opening on the shelf, before turning toward her. “An interesting point of view. Sounds as if you’ve done some reading of your own.”

“Not really. Not...lately.” She moved away from the shelves. Away from his attention. “My parents were both teachers. They talked about ideas at the supper table.”

“That’s a good way to learn.”

Foolish, to bring up such painful memories. “It should have been. But I was a careless teenager, more involved with my friends and boys than what they had to say.” Running a finger along the top of the rocking chair, she blew out a deep breath. “I wasted the opportunity.”

“It’s never too late to learn.”

“Oh, I think sometimes it is. Right now I’m more concerned about what to do for Nathan and Amber than what happened thousands of years ago.”

“You do have some decisions to make. Forgive me for butting in, but I’m hoping one of them isn’t to go back to that bastard who hurts you.”

The intense anger in his voice mirrored her own. “That’s not an option. He stepped over the line tonight with Nathan. I can’t let him hurt my children.”

“Good for you.”

She gripped the rail of the rocker with both hands. “But I don’t know what comes next. Ford said something about an order of protection. Are we supposed to stay in the trailer after that? Where will Travis live? If he stays there, how will I get the children’s clothes and toys?” Once again, concerns and uncertainties ambushed her, buzzing in from all directions. “Where will I get a job in a place as small as Bisons Creek? Or do we have to move to find work? Where? How can I secure a place to live without a paycheck? What about—”

Appalled, Susannah clapped her hands over her mouth to stop the flow of words. What had possessed her to unload on Wyatt Marshall like that? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered from behind her palms.

He came to stand about an arm’s length away. “I can solve a couple of those problems.”

She uncovered her face. “You’ve already done more than enough. I shouldn’t be bothering—”

“Maybe you ought to stay here for a while. At least for the summer, while your son’s in camp.”

“I couldn’t possibly impose on you for so long.”

“You could if you worked as our housekeeper and cook.”

Hearing the words made her mind go blank. She could only stare at him in shock.

“Even if I wasn’t trussed up in this brace, I’ve never been much good in the kitchen,” he said with a lift of his big hands. “Or the rest of the house, for that matter. This summer, my brothers are going to be tied up with the ranch work I can’t do, plus the kids in the camp. Dylan’s got sculptures to work on, Garrett has his responsibilities at the church, and Ford will be going back to his law office in San Francisco soon. We really need somebody who can take care of this place, maybe put together a meal for me now and then. We would pay you, of course. And you’d be safe here while you got things...straightened out...with your husband.”

“I—I don’t know what to say.” She could barely breathe, let alone think. “C-can I give you an answer tomorrow?”

“Sure. Whenever you decide. In the meantime, make yourself at home.” His smothered yawn seemed too convenient to be real. “I believe I’m ready to hit the sack. Just flip the light off when you’re ready.” He stopped at the doorway to the hall but didn’t glance back. “Night, Susannah. Come on, Honey.”

She started, then realized that was the dog’s name. “Good night.” On impulse, she added, “What time do you eat breakfast?”

Wyatt pivoted to face her again. He wore a big grin. “I’m sleeping late these days, don’t get up much before six or six thirty.” Touching two fingers to an invisible hat brim, he nodded. “See you in the morning.”

Standing in the living room, Susannah listened as his footsteps receded down the hallway. Wyatt Marshall struck her as a remarkable man. Despite his injury, he seemed to be in control—of himself, of his surroundings, of life in general. And his generosity amazed her. Not only was he holding a summer camp for teenagers on his ranch, but he’d offered a solution to her most pressing problem—she and the children could stay on the ranch while she saved up the money she needed to find a new home and a real job. His kindness might even extend to giving her a reference she could use when she applied. How helpful that would be!