Page 15 of Heart Like a Cowboy

Every time Egan slept in this room, he made a mental note to pack up all the stuff and ask Effie to quit her moving efforts so he wouldn’t wake up to reminders of the person he’d once been. It definitely didn’t help with his mood. Ironically, though, some of the items, like the bronc-riding trophies, helped with the panic, and he could feel himself leveling out some.

He recalled that Alana had mentioned the bronc riding, and she’d verbally tossed that into the mix to try to prove to him that he was considered heroic. It didn’t take heroism to climb onto the back of a bronc that was surely going to try to throw you and perhaps maim you in the process. It took the love of the ride and the adrenaline and a massive amount of stupidity.

Perhaps that’s why it helped level him. Because he knew it was his real self on display in the photo. No heroism, just stupidity combined with luck that had given him a win.

Egan checked the time again and knew there was no way he could risk trying to go back to sleep. Not with the threat of the nightmare still boiling just beneath the surface. Besides, it was nearly seven o’clock, and his alarm would be going off soon, anyway. This would give him a slightly earlier start to the day, which would be a good thing since he wanted to check on some new horses that had been delivered the day before and then go to the hospital to see his dad.

It’d been a week since the nearly fatal heart attack. A week of trying to come to terms with the fact he’d nearly lost his dad. Egan knew a week wasn’t nearly long enough to wrap his mind around that. He was basically taking things hour by hour, focusing on what he could do at the ranch versus what life would look like once his dad came home from the hospital in a day or two.

He got out of bed, heading to the en suite bathroom, something all nine of the bedrooms had at the main ranch house. He grabbed a shower and dressed. Not in his usual uniform, though, but rather in jeans, a shirt and cowboy boots.

It was another irony that these items, along with his Stetson, were anchors, too. Maybe because there was nothing about the clothes to remind him he was a lieutenant colonel with a crapload of bad memories about a fatal explosion in the desert.

Egan made his way to the kitchen, following the scent of fresh coffee, and wasn’t surprised to see both Effie and Maybell at the stove, putting together some breakfast burritos, a specialty that he suspected they were making because they knew it was one of his favorites.

Since Egan occasionally did paperwork and tax info for the ranch, he knew that Maybell was in her mid-sixties, but she hadn’t expressed a single word about retiring. It was the same for six or so of the ranch hands who were similar in age to Maybell. That was good as far as Egan was concerned. Not only because all of them were hard workers, but they had become part of the family, and that meant his dad and Effie would have support once things returned to normal.

If they returned to normal, he mentally amended.

“Morning,” Maybell greeted, flashing him her usual smile. She was tall, nearly hitting the six-feet mark, and her hair was far more salt than pepper these days.

Effie also doled out a greeting and a smile while she sat down to eat her disassembled burrito with a fork. “Your dad called a bit ago,” she said, getting Egan’s attention as he was pouring his coffee. “He’s fine,” she quickly added when she no doubt saw the alarm in his eyes. “He just wanted someone to bring him a few more of those old photo albums he’s been looking at.”

Egan nodded, though, he wished his dad had wanted books, his laptop or heck, even some work. Not that he wanted him to work, but Egan also didn’t think it was a good idea for his dad to keep poring over the past in those albums.

“I’ll take one or two to him when I visit this morning.” He paused. “He didn’t ask for snacks or junk food, did he?”

“No,” Effie said, sighing.

That sigh said loads. She was worried about his dad, too. And not just about his physical recovery. His dad had a fondness for snacks that in no way fell into the healthy category. The proof of that was in the pantry where he kept his caramel corn and double-fudge cookie stash.

Egan got himself a mug of coffee and took one of the burritos that Maybell offered. “I’ll be back,” he told them. “I just want to check on the horses.”

Effie smiled again, and he didn’t have to guess the reason for this one, either. He’d always loved the horses so it wasn’t a chore. In fact, seeing them would almost certainly be the best part of his day, and he might as well take advantage of it while he was still here at the ranch.

He walked out through the back and down the porch steps while he mulled over that “here at the ranch” part. He’d already burned seven of his thirty days of leave, but he could ask for another week or so if things didn’t improve. Once the leave ran out, though, he could end up commuting for a while which would make for hellish long days since he often worked a sixty-hour week at the base.

Still, it might be necessary.

Lots of things might be necessary to get through this.

Despite the lingering effect of the nightmare and the worry about his dad, he felt himself settle as he thought of his ancestors, of their boots that had walked over this very ground. Of what they must have been thinking when they looked out at the land and the livestock. The livestock breeds had changed over the past hundred years, but the core of the ranch had stayed the same. Saddlebrook raised the best bloodlines possible whether it was Angus cattle, cutting horses, rodeo bulls or the champion Andalusian horses.

Now he was walking in their footsteps. Literally. And in a way, this was his watch. Temporarily, that is, until his dad was back on his feet. But Egan couldn’t escape the realization that this place, this legacy, was his responsibility.

No pressure there.

He spotted the ranch foreman, Jesse Whitlock, going into the main barn where he had his office. Derek had offered Jesse office space in the main house, but he had turned it down, insisting he preferred to be closer to the livestock and the other hands. Egan suspected Jesse had chosen that arrangement because he’d wanted to keep some boundaries and a private personal life since he wasn’t exactly an open book.

Egan walked to the pasture fence, eating his breakfast while he watched the Andalusian mares chow down on the grass. It was like a picture that could go on a postcard. The dew on the emerald green grass. The soft gold colors of the rising sun cutting through the morning haze that gave everything, including the horses, a lazy, serene feel.

He could feel his heartbeat slow, could feel the tightness in his chest fade. The burrito helped with that, and the horses must have thought they’d get to sample the tasty treat because a pair of them started to mosey toward Egan. It didn’t last because the sound of his phone ringing shot through the serenity and sent the slightly skittish mares darting away from him.

Cursing the interruption, Egan’s profanity didn’t last long when he noticed it was a FaceTime call from his sister. Setting his coffee on the ground, he took the call and saw Remi’s face on the screen.

“Remi,” he said, automatically shifting to a smile.

She smiled back, and he could see that she was in uniform. Complete with the maroon beret that signified her status as Special Forces. A rarity since there were only a handful of women in her career field. Egan was bursting with pride over her accomplishments, but he had to get in a brotherly dig.

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