Page 3 of Ranch's Resolve

Two men step outside as I open my car door and step out. One wears the kutte I’ve seen on other members of the Demon Dawgs, so I approach him, assuming he’s the ranch owner. Onhis kutte is the road name Ranch. Fitting, I think, with a smirk. Reaching out my hand, I introduce myself.

Instead of the welcome I expect, his quiet stare leaves me uncomfortable. He doesn’t seem to be expecting me. “I’m guessing you weren’t expecting me? I thought Caitlin had called to let you know I was coming out.”

“Sorry, yes, of course. Caitlin mentioned you’d be stopping by.” His hand engulfs mine, making me feel something I’ve rarely felt. Petite.

After he explains away his apparent surprise at my visit before acknowledging that he knows my reason for being here, he speaks a few words to his ranch hand before leading me inside his home. The interior is as charming and welcoming as I had expected. Hardwood floors warm the space. The walls are the color of freshly cut oak. To the right is a living room furnished by a masculine hand and eye. The oversized couch and chairs, upholstered in dark chocolate leather, look comfortable. I can imagine the massive man at my side sprawled out on the couch, watching sports on the impressive television hanging on the opposite wall. On either side of the TV are bookshelves filled with books. Rather than the television being the center of the living area, though, the stone fireplace that fills the corner looks large enough to walk into has the honor. I spot a dining room and a kitchen beyond the living space.

After completing his home, I focus on the man. I blush at the look of interest in his enticing blue eyes. He’s tall, well over six feet, with brown hair lightened by the sun and worn shorn. His jeans cover long, thick legs. A tattoo peaks out from under the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel shirt. But it’s his tanned, muscular arms that heat my skin. I imagine what those arms would feel like wrapped around my body. I’m a sucker for arms, and this guy has the best I’ve ever seen.

“Caitlin mentioned you're coming by to check out the ranch for suitability. Not sure what that means. However, I figured you’d like a tour of the property, so I’m having my ranch manager saddle up the horses for us to go riding. If you’re interested?”

“That sounds perfect,” I grin. “I haven’t been on a horse in months. I’ve missed it.”

Ranch leads me into the kitchen and offers me a drink, but the view outside the back windows captures my attention.

“How do you leave?” I ask. “I could sit here forever and never get bored.”

“You should see the view from the bedroom,” he says as he hands me a glass of lemonade.

I blush as I consider how much I want to take him up on the offer, but I demure.

“So tell me about what you and Caitlin want to do with my ranch.”

“Caitlin is building a fantastic space at Crossroads. It provides residents with a safe and secure environment in which to heal. But sometimes, those who have suffered trauma need more than just a safe place to hide. They need something that calms the mind and soothes the soul. Something to help them step back from themselves. Animals have a way of healing people. I’ve suggested that she encourage the residents to adopt pets or provide common pets with free range of the compound. The kids would benefit the most from access to cats and dogs.”

“Okay, I can see that, but that doesn’t explain what you want with me or my ranch.”

“While I think having access to pets will benefit their psyche, so will getting away from Crossroads and experiencing time outdoors. However, many of those staying at Crossroads will feel fear of being away from the protection of Crossroads. Having a place like your ranch will allow them the freedomwhile still providing the sense of safety they need. If they could go horseback riding or spend time petting the cows or feeding the animals, they could enjoy the outdoors without looking over their shoulders for the boogeyman.”

Ranch nods as he leads me back outside and over to the stables, where we find his ranch hand just finishing saddling a gorgeous horse with a lovely golden coat. He introduces me to his ranch hand, Max, who is the ranch manager. Then Ranch directs me to the horses. He lovingly caresses the neck of a gorgeous Connemara. She’s a beautiful golden color.

“This is Sunset. She’s incredibly calm and has a sweet personality,” Ranch explains. He hands me a carrot to feed her. While Max saddles my horse, Ranch leads me to the gorgeous steed. “This is Devil’s Sire.” Unlike Sunset, Devil’s Sire doesn’t stand still. He clomps the ground with his hooves and shakes his head as if trying to dislodge the bit. I don’t need Ranch to tell me the horse is somewhat feral. He exudes power and restlessness. He’s as gorgeous and sexy as his owner.

I have some experience with horses, so I mount Sunset and recognize the look of admiration on the faces of both men. I can’t say their admiration doesn’t boost my ego.

Ranch leads the way out of the paddock and into the open fields. We ride at a slow enough pace that we’re able to discuss the plans for using his ranch as a therapeutic retreat for the residents of Crossroads.

“I imagine the kids will love running around the ranch. We have horses, cows, and a few chickens. I could look into adding more livestock if you think it would enhance the kids’ experiences. I’ve thought about getting a couple of goats. Maybe we could create a small petting zoo.”

“It isn’t just the kids who will enjoy the visits. The moms will, too. I think they’ll love watching their kids enjoy the animals, but I also want them to experience the connection. Animals providea soothing presence that benefits everyone.” I explain how I came to appreciate horses and why they are so easy to love.

Ranch grins at me as he reaches over to pet Devil’s Sire’s neck.

Movement over Ranch’s shoulder has me glancing at the fence line. “Who are they?” I ask when I spot several men on this side of the fence. I assume they are ranch hands since they are dressed for work and carrying shotguns. However, before Ranch can respond, I see a horrifying sight. Lying on the ground behind the men is a woman covered in blood.

Hopping off Sunset, I rush over to her side. I hear Ranch yelling behind me, but I ignore him because all my attention is on the woman bleeding out in front of me.

“How long ago did she give birth?” I asked the two women with her. A girl, no more than twelve, sits nearby, cradling the baby that is only minutes old. The umbilical cord remains intact. When I don’t get a response, I study the women and see the confusion on their faces. I want to kick myself for not realizing that they likely don’t speak English. Before I can translate, Ranch kneels beside me and repeats the question in Spanish.

“Three minutes,” Ranch relates.

“We need an ambulance. She’s bleeding. I need to cut the umbilical cord.”

Ranch takes a knife out of the holster on his belt. I hear the voices around me raise in alarm, but he silences them. He douses the knife with the contents of a flask and wipes it down before taking something from one of the men. It’s a lighter that he flicks on before running the flame over the knife. Once he’s done that, he hands it to me. I cut the cord before returning the knife to him.

To aid in the passage of the placenta, I firmly massage her uterus via the abdomen. “I need some water to clean her off,” Isay to Ranch once she expels the placenta. The blood flow seems to have stopped, but I need to clean her so I can verify.

Ranch barks out orders, and within seconds, I have what I need. Once she’s clean, I breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t see any more blood.

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