Page 23 of Her Redeemed Protector

“Where’s this ranch of yours?” he asks.

“Out west. Seeley Lake.” I let a hint of pride seep through.

“Beautiful area. We used to own a ranch up in Lakefall Valley.” His voice holds a wistful note.

“You did?” No wonder his daughter handles horses well. But curiosity piques my interest, wondering what could have pulled him away from such a setting.

“A hell of a gem,” he reminisces. “The valley’s sprinkled with a few ranches, but none as secluded as the old Mitchell spread.”

“I’ve never been up to that part. Sounds like heaven on earth.”

He turns his head, looking out the car window, perhaps hiding a flicker of emotion.

After a moment, he turns back to me. “Savannah, she’s born and bred for ranching. Got it from her mother,” Al says with a deep, affectionate growl in his voice.

He chortles. “But don’t think it all came naturally. Her mother, my wife, was a city girl from Chile, fresher than spring rain when it came to country life when she first landed here in Big Sky Country.”

I nod in understanding the way fellow ranchers do while acknowledging the familiar tale of grit transforming the greenest newcomer into a seasoned hand.

Al’s gaze drifts ahead as he continues. “My Savannah, she could ride before she could walk, I swear. Got a way with horses that puts the wind to shame.”

I feel a smile radiate through me, touching even the organs that know no joy. Only now do I realize the parallels between Savannah and aspects of my own past are uncanny. She’s threading her way into my thoughts, into a space reserved for dreams I didn’t know I was allowed to have.

“I’ll ask her about that when I see her next,” I say.

Al looks at me, his expression silently hinting at something on his mind. But all I hear is an exhale as we pull into the hospital parking lot.

We enter the lobby, my heart keeping an anxious tempo. When we reach Savannah’s room, the door is already open, revealing her surprised face.

“Hux?” she says, her voice a mix of confusion and relief. Then, her eyes flare with indignation. “Dad! What are you doing here?” Her glare swings to me. “Hux! I thought I could trust you! And what happened to—” She shifts her gaze to Al’s amputated leg, sans the prosthetic.

I stand mute, caught between two forces of nature. Whatever I say, either Al or Savannah will kill me.

“Saltamontes…” Al crosses the room in quick strides as if his crutch is giving him superhuman abilities. But I know it’s his daughter who’s powering him.

“Dad, you’ve got to go!” she insists, but there’s a softness in her voice reserved just for him.

“The doctor is always late anyway,” he quips, holding her close.

Saltamontes. The word is alien to me, a reminder of howrusty my Spanish is. The translation flickers across my phone screen. Grasshopper. An odd term of endearment, but its whimsy draws a reluctant smile from me amid the tension simmering between the father and daughter.

Then, a heavy silence crashes down.

I lift my gaze just in time to catch Savannah and Al locked in a battle of stares. Savannah’s frame trembles, each breath laced with emotion, while Al, face bearing the marks of agony, turns away. He makes his way toward the door, tagged by the sound of his crutch striking the ground. “Come on, let’s go,” he mutters, his voice gruff.

“Hold on,” I interject, unable to mask my frustration as I shoot a sharp look at the old man’s retreating figure. I understand respect and rules, but leaving Savannah in such a state isn’t an option. My hand finds its way to her shoulder. “Hey, talk to me,” I whisper close.

Her hand briefly clasps mine, a spark of warmth in the cold standoff, but then she pushes my hand away as gracefully as she can manage. “Go on, before he changes his mind,” she insists with a weary smile. “Please, go.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” I reassure her, brushing the top of her hand, which now lies limp on her lap.

I walk back to the car with Al, the weight of the moment sinking in. “What did you say to her?” I demand, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

He exhales deeply, the fight gone from his posture as he faces forward. “Someday, if you have a daughter—which I hope you do because it’s the best thing in the world—you will understand.”

The day’s events bear down on me like a barrage of punches. But as we drive away, a strange sense of purpose settles in my chest. Despite the challenges and confrontations, I’m exactly where I need to be.

10

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