Lies the Heart Tells

By Maddie Broome

Hired by newspaper owner Laura Danilov to run a project aimed at reintroducing wolves into the wilds of Montana, Drew Allison has had little success signing on local ranchers to her cause. Instead, the ranch where she’s headquartered has suffered a string of malicious pranks she suspects is aimed at shutting her project down. When Mackenzie Sawyer falls out of a tree and into a job taking care of the ranch, Drew thinks her luck has changed for the better.

Things soon go from bad to worse, however, and Drew realizes nothing is as it seems – especially Mackenzie Sawyer.

When her quest for answers turns up a most unexpected one, she isn’t sure what to believe. She must then decide whether to listen to reason or to follow her heart as she attempts to discover what lies the heart tells and why.
 

(Contemporary Romance / Clean Romance – 169,000 words)  Originally written as Jenna Storm

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maddie Broome
• Release date: Sep 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502284631

Book preview

Chapter One

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Montana – 1995

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Drew Allison walked down the long drive of the Southern Cross Ranch, past empty corrals and overgrown pastures, the rustling of tall grasses the only sound to be heard.  Gone was the lowing of cattle in the distance and the thump of horses in the corral.  No laughter drifted from the bunkhouse to one side of the barn.  No gates clanged open and closed.  No truck doors slammed.  No one shouted ribald comments out to her. 

Some things at least were unchanged.  Mountains still beckoned in the distance.  The wide Montana sky was no less blue.  The air was no less clean.  And the far horizon had come no closer.  Yet not even those felt the same as they had six months earlier when she arrived to take on the job of returning wolves to the land that had been theirs before men with rifles and barbed wire took it for their own.

It was neither those changes nor her work, however, that consumed her thoughts or that had prompted her to make the long walk to collect the mail.  Despite having spent nearly an entire morning in her office playing catch-up on the work piled on her desk, she’d done nothing but worry about the woman who was both employer and friend and who had returned home the previous night talking of lost spirits and dead brothers.

Not knowing, then or later, what to say to that, Drew had argued against Laura’s return to work so soon after her father’s funeral.  She’d suggested as well that she take it easy for a few days.  Laura, in turn, had insisted she’d neglected the small local newspaper she owned and managed long enough.  So off she’d gone that morning to bring what order she could back to her life.

With a sigh of frustration, Drew ran the fingers of one hand through her hair and wished there was something she could do to help.  Something beyond providing company on those long nights that seemed to echo with a silence of too much gone and taken.

For not the first time, she wondered how long Laura was going to hang on to the ranch.  There had been talk at one point of keeping it going, but Ivan had argued strongly against it.  Aware Laura’s heart would never be in it as his had been, he’d feared it would only become a burden to her.  Drew had been caught in the middle of more than one argument between the two and had privately agreed with Ivan.  Nonetheless, she understood Laura’s desire to keep the only home she’d ever known no matter what.  So while the arguments had at last ended with Laura’s reluctant agreement to the sale of the cattle, Drew suspected Ivan’s solution might not have been quite as final as he’d intended.  Although, how Laura would be able to keep the ranch going she couldn’t guess.

Suspecting Laura’s vision in the cemetery the night before had been an unconscious attempt to hang on to a part of her life slipping fast beyond her reach, Drew loosed another sigh and kicked at a rock. 

As it went sailing into the weeds lining the drive, she looked around for another target upon which to vent.  Then Laura’s big mixed-breed dog, Nika, appeared out of nowhere and chased after the displaced rock.  Glad of the distraction, Drew watched as the dog snatched up the rock and tossed it into the air with a flick of her head.  When she caught it again with a clink of rock on teeth, Drew made a mental note to invest in some dog balls.  She then searched out another rock and threw it some distance down the drive.

Nika took off after it and slid to a stop beside it.  No sooner, however, did she drop the first rock to take up the second than something else caught her attention.  Tongue lolling, she trotted to a tree a little farther down the drive.  She then sat beneath it with her tail wagging and her attention all for something in the tree’s leafy branches.

Drew assumed it was a squirrel.  Until, that is, a large section of branches shook.  Curious then to know what bit of wildlife had found its way up Laura’s tree, she followed Nika’s pointing gaze upwards.  To her surprise, she discovered not a creature of the wild but a decidedly human form.  A male human form.  An unfamiliar male human form.  An unfamiliar male human form straddled on a low branch gazing intently at something lost to Drew’s sight in the branches above.

She assumed he was a local gone oddly astray.  Until, that is, she shifted her gaze from his face to a denim work shirt untucked and dusty, down to jeans faded from numerous washings and stained from who knew what adventures, and on to well-worn work boots glaringly out of place in cowboy country. 

Not a neighbor then but someone where he didn’t belong. 

Drew felt a moment’s wariness.  She was alone there on the ranch, after all, and far beyond screaming distance of the nearest neighbor.  It seemed, however, out of character for marauding axe murderers to search out victims among the treetops.  So when the stranger pulled himself up, apparently intent on climbing higher into the tree, Drew joined Nika.  In a tone then of idle interest to the stranger above she said, Do you always do your bird watching up close?

Her voice was only slightly above a conversational level, yet it proved too much for the man above.  He jerked his head downwards and missed the upper branch for which he’d been reaching.  Thrown off balance, he teetered on his precarious perch and made a wild grab that again missed its mark.  He then fell in a shower of broken twigs and landed on his back at Drew’s feet.

As she blinked her surprise, Laura’s orange tomcat streaked out of the tree and took off, headed in the direction of the ranch house with Nika in happy pursuit.

Wondering how she was going to explain to Laura how she’d come to murder a total stranger, Drew hurried to the fallen man’s side.  She then knelt at his head to take a quick inventory.  To her relief, she found not protruding bones and pooling blood as she’d feared but only a scrape on his forehead.  Not that he seemed aware of it – or of any other possible injuries.  His attention was all for the branches above him, his bleeding brow wrinkled and his eyes blinking. 

There was a cat. 

The words were a rasping attempt at making sense of a physical law of the universe just broken.  An accusation against whatever god had it in for mortal men. 

Figuring that meant her fallen visitor wasn’t hurt too badly, Drew sat back in the grass and defended the gods.  That was Hannibal.  He has a nasty habit of climbing up a tree and screeching for help, only to take off when some poor sap takes the bait. 

It was then Drew’s turn to be accused.  The stranger’s eyes shifted in her direction, and the brows above them wrinkled further.

She let her own gaze linger for a moment on those eyes of a strange light brown flecked with gold.  She then moved on to check out the rest of the would-be hero, taking in the scattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose before moving up to short hair of a light brown with golden highlights.  Then it was back down to a face in need of a shave, bristles of mixed gold and brown adding to the general air of scruffiness noted earlier in the well-worn work clothes.

He looked to be drifting one step ahead of a wayward wind that wasn’t blowing him any too well.  Still, he was young – somewhere in the neighborhood of Drew’s own twenty-eight years – and reasonably good-looking.  So if he was trouble on two feet, it was a danger Drew thought maybe worth flirting with.  Provided, of course, that he wasn’t about to expire.  To make sure he wasn’t, she again checked for signs of an imminent demise.  Finding none, she said, You okay?

Her maybe-patient chuffed out a breath of air in response, and Drew considered whether she could reasonably take that as proof of respiratory distress requiring heroic lifesaving measures.  Before she could decide, Nika rejoined them, panting happily at having sped the troublesome Hannibal on his way.  As if expecting a grateful pat for having vanquished the pest, she announced her presence to her nemesis’ latest victim by sticking her wet nose in his face.  Instead of returning the greeting, however, the fallen man bolted upright and scrambled backwards until he hit up against the trunk of the tree from which he’d just tumbled, his wide-eyed gaze on the dog.

Drew grabbed Nika’s collar and held her back from furthering her newfound, if reluctant, friendship.  Relax, she said with a smile to the fallen man.  She’s had one trespasser today already.  She shouldn’t need to feed again until tomorrow.

She’d opted for a teasing tone.  Nonetheless, the fallen man shot her a look that was defensive rather than amused, and his tone was indignant as he said, I’m not scared.  I just don’t like dogs.

Drew raised an eyebrow, not about to buy what he was selling.  Still, she wasn’t totally averse to checking out whatever else he might have to offer, so she said, I’m sorry for startling you out of the tree.  Ready then to browse his wares, she opened the door to whatever sales pitch he might care to make, saying, I’m Drew, by the way.  Drew Allison. 

She waited for him to supply his own name.  When he didn’t, she prompted him.  And you’re...?

He hesitated, as if judging his chances of a sale – or maybe just his interest in making one.  Then, judgment made and Drew apparently not deemed likely to bring in the big bucks, he handed out his name like it was a business card he’d be wanting back.  I’m Mackenzie, he said.  Mackenzie Sawyer.  He then scribbled a line in on the bottom of that card of his, his tone that time defensive. And I’m not a trespasser. 

Assuming that if he wasn’t interested in selling her anything he had another customer in mind – and feeling more than a tad miffed at being judged unworthy of a sales presentation – Drew iced her tone a bit as she said, If you’re here to see Laura, you’re out of luck.  She’s at work. 

Work? 

At the newspaper office.  In town. 

Mackenzie blinked. 

"You did come to see Laura, didn’t you?" 

No.  Mackenzie dropped his gaze and climbed to his feet.  I was just walking past when I heard the cat.  I thought it was stuck.

Drew raised her other eyebrow, curiosity winning out over her earlier irritation.  The ice then melted from her tone as she said, Do you often go for strolls along the highway?  Not, I might add, that we’re exactly within casual strolling distance of anywhere. 

Mackenzie bent down to retrieve a battered duffel bag from the tall grass at the base of the tree.  I wasn’t out taking the air, he said.  I was trying to hitch a ride.

Drew raised her eyebrows another notch.  You’re a bit off the beaten path.  The road here isn’t much more than an afterthought.

Mackenzie shrugged.  Every road leads somewhere.

But not always somewhere a body would care to go.

Receiving only another shrug in reply, Drew tried again.  Where are you headed?

Home. 

Mackenzie slipped the strap of the duffel bag over one shoulder and wiped away a trickle of blood from his forehead, prompting a vision in Drew of Florence Nightingale engaged in a less than selfless task.  She settled, however, for a much tamer offer, hoping that if Mackenzie wasn’t selling that he could maybe be tempted to do a little buying.  Come on up to the ranch house, she said, and let me clean that scrape for you.

It’ll be okay.  It’s just a scratch. 

Maybe.  But that was quite a fall.  Are you sure you’re okay?

I’m fine.  He pushed away from the tree and skirted the dog to the drive beyond, limping heavily.

So.  Not only was he not in the market to sell anything, he wasn’t interested in buying either.  Or even in doing a bit of browsing.

Normally Drew would have given up.  There were plenty of other fish in the sea, after all.  Only... there weren’t.  Not lately anyway.  As that empty bunkhouse attested.  So she resumed her own trek down the drive, keeping pace with him and holding tight to Nika’s collar.

He shot her a quick look, as if judging his chances that time of outrunning her and whatever sales pitch she might care to make.

She sniffed her disdain.  She’d never yet had to chase a male down.  Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade, that is.  And since then she hadn’t exactly sent men pelting for the hills in droves.  In fact, she’d attracted her share of attention in life.  More than one male, after all, had found green eyes, long brown hair, and five feet eight inches of an athletic build appealing.

Assuming then the tone of a woman who was no more than taking a shortcut through the market to get to someplace far more interesting, she said, I knew a guy back in college.  He fell out of a tree while studying the nesting habits of the Lesser Collegiate Coed.  He then refused a trip to the ER, insisting he was fine.  Two days later he keeled over, fell headfirst into a frat house keg, and drowned.

Mackenzie shot her another look, that one skeptical.

She ignored it.  And did I mention this guy who drowned kept insisting he was fine after he fell, even though he could barely walk?

That earned her another look, a quick flash of annoyance that time.  It’s nothing, Mackenzie said.  It’ll be fine once I get going.

Drew eyed his limping gait and sniffed again.  Yeah.  Sure.  But you should maybe steer clear of frat house kegs for the next few days, just to be safe.

He didn’t bother to look at her that time. 

Keeping pace with his slow gait and holding on still to Nika, she kept up her show of indifference.  It’s up to you, pal.  It’s no skin off my nose if you want to walk around on a broken ankle.

It’s not broken.

His words came fast and clean, like he was no more than stating a proven fact.  Like he knew what he was talking about, and she should maybe go find someone else to annoy.

She thought about doing just that.  There were plenty of people on her No Wolves No Way list she could go rile, after all. 

Then he reached the end of the drive and stopped to lean against one of the gateposts, his face an unhealthy shade of white and pain etching faint lines around his mouth and eyes.

Forgetting whatever game she was maybe playing that he wasn’t, Drew joined him, taking care to keep between him and Nika.  Her tone then one of sympathy, she said, It really hurts, doesn’t it?

He flicked her a look that time that said she’d insulted his manhood.  And as if to prove his manly manliness, he pushed away from the post.  He spoiled the effect he was going for though by wincing as he put his weight on his injured ankle. 

Drew rolled her eyes at his macho male pride.  And in a scoffing tone she said, How far do you think you’re going to get on that?

He leaned back against the post, the move casual, as if he’d simply decided to take in a bit more of the view before proceeding down the road.  I just need to rest it a minute. 

Yeah, right. 

She gave him a moment to catch his breath.  When he then made no further move to continue on his interrupted journey, she pointed out the obvious.  You really should let a doctor look at that.  And since it didn’t look like he’d make it there on his own, she offered her services.  So to speak.  I could drive you into town if you’d like. 

Thanks, but that’s not necessary.

Again his words came fast, if not quite so clean, a hint of pain and weariness edging them.

Drew sniffed.  Yeah, right.

He closed his eyes and ignored her. 

She was again tempted to give up the game.  The only fantasy left to her, after all, was one of tying him to the post in order to keep him there.  And if that was what her isolation on the ranch had reduced her to, a long visit to town was definitely in order.  She didn’t think, however, that Laura would appreciate coming home to find him glued to the gatepost if not actually tied to it.  So she tried again, letting a hint of exasperation shade her words.  Look, I know it’s none of my business, but it’s obvious you’re not going to be walking anywhere anytime soon.  And you can’t just stand there hanging on to that gatepost hoping someone will eventually come along and offer you a lift.  So what do you plan to do? 

I’ll think of something.

Like what?

He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut and didn’t answer. 

Drew again considered leaving him to whatever fate and his male idiocy dictated.  Before she could make up her mind to it, however, a truck with the logo of the local feed store on its side slowed to a stop across the road.  Frankie, the delivery boy who looked barely old enough to drive, popped his head out of the window with a cheery, Hey, Miss Allison.  I’ve got that order Miss Danilov called in.

Drew moved out of the driveway so he could turn into it.  Deciding then he was the answer to Mackenzie’s prayers – if not her own – she stopped him and looked to Mackenzie, saying, I guess this is your lucky day after all.  He looked from her to Frankie thumping his hand on the door in beat to the music blaring from his radio, and his expression turned dubious.  Still, he didn’t offer an objection, so Drew turned back to Frankie and said, Hey, Frankie, you wouldn’t mind giving this wayfaring stranger a ride into town, would you?

Frankie tapped out a complicated beat, his head bopping to the music.  Sure, why not?

Can you wait a minute and give me a lift back to the house?

She didn’t wait for a reply.  Loosing her hold on Nika’s collar, she hurried across the road to collect the mail.  She then returned to the truck and slipped through the door Mackenzie held open for her.

A few seconds later they bounced down the drive to the ranch house, Nika racing alongside and Frankie’s radio blaring a particularly annoying country song that had Drew wishing she’d elected to walk back.  Turning to look at Mackenzie, she wondered how he would fare on the drive back to town with that noise blasting away.  He seemed, however, aware of nothing but the pain of his twisted ankle.  His face was still white and perspiration beaded his forehead.  His eyes looked slightly unfocused, as well, and he kept his gaze straight ahead. 

When they reached the sprawl of buildings that made up the main part of the ranch, Frankie brought the truck to a halt in front of the barn and flipped the ignition switch off, cutting the nasally voiced singer off in mid-twang.  He then slipped out to unload the truck.

Drew slid out after him and turned back to Mackenzie.  Good luck on the trip home, she said.  And sorry about that ankle.  I hope it isn’t hurt too bad. 

She expected another macho disclaimer.  Mackenzie though kept his gaze fixed on some distant point, either ignoring her or unaware she’d spoken.  Prompting him again for a response, Drew said, You okay?

Still he seemed not to hear her, so she moved around the front of the truck to the passenger door and pulled it open.  She then shook his shoulder to get his attention.  When he turned his head and struggled to focus on her, she frowned and said, You don’t look too good.  Are you sure you’re okay? 

I’m fine.  He proceeded, however, to rub his chest, as if to ease a pain taking root there. 

Drew snorted.  Yeah.  That’s what that college kid said just before he keeled over into the keg.  Really, you should get Frankie to drive you to the ER in town.

Mackenzie made no reply.  Instead, he let his head fall against the window.  He then closed his eyes as if he were too weary to argue. 

Drew started to do just that.  She gave it up though when Laura’s brown sedan rolled around the barn and pulled up in front of the main house.  As Laura climbed out of the car, Drew called across the dusty yard to her.  What are you doing home so early?

Laura pushed short graying blonde hair out of a pleasant face that showed few signs of having passed the half-century mark and said, Old age is catching up with me.  I forgot my notes on that article I’m doing on the Senate race.  I need to get it done for tomorrow’s edition.

Well, stop the presses.  I have another story for you right here.

Laura looked to Frankie unloading a bag of oats.  Is there a problem with the order from the feed store?

Drew shook her head and took a step back to reveal their unexpected visitor.  A guest has dropped in.  Literally.

Laura’s gaze went to Mackenzie in the cab, and her face paled. 

Laura? Drew said, drawing her brows down into a frown.  Are you all right?  You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.

Mackenzie stirred beside her, and Drew turned back to him, searching out whatever Laura had apparently seen that she’d missed – a ghostly aura maybe.  Or possibly a face  tacked in all its black and white glory to the Lancaster post office wall.

No auras – ghostly or otherwise – in evidence, Drew worked on a new fantasy.  One that had her playing Bonnie to Mackenzie’s Clyde.

He, in turn, seemed unaware of her regard.  Instead, he brought his gaze up and fixed it on Laura as if he searched out something of  his own – or as if he waited for her to count up all the ways she could happily spend a nice wad of reward money.

Laura moved forward, her gaze still on him as if to make sure the face in color before her matched the black and white one hanging on the post office wall.  Then, as she drew near, she came to a stop and seemed to deflate.  Oh.  Of course.  Her tone was one of disappointment, as if her dream of riches to come had just been thoroughly dashed.

Mackenzie though still eyed her as if waiting for... something.  Which maybe meant... something.  Something Drew still wasn’t getting.  What gives? she asked.  You two know each other?

No, Laura said, that tone of disappointment still sounding.  But we almost met.  Last night in the cemetery. 

So, Drew’s first guess had been right after all.  You mean he’s the one you thought was Daniel? 

Laura made no reply.  Instead, she continued to stare at her brother’s ghost. 

Deciding introductions were in order, Drew said, Laura Danilov, meet Mackenzie Sawyer.  He was trying to hitch a ride out along the road when Hannibal lured him up a tree.  I then startled him out of it, and he hurt his ankle in the fall.  So Frankie’s going to give him a ride back to town. 

He hurt his ankle?  Laura frowned.  Ghosts forgotten then in favor of bruised flesh and blood before her, she said, I’d better have a look at it.  And that forehead as well. 

As she stepped forward, Nika jumped into the cab from the other side, eager to renew her all too brief acquaintance with Mackenzie.  Mackenzie, in turn, remained reluctant to cry friends – or to so much as share a bit of space with her.  To keep that status quo, he scrambled out of the cab to escape her.  When Nika followed, he took a step back, twisted around to face her, and let out an expletive as his injured ankle apparently protested.  He lifted his foot, only to overbalance.  He then reached out a hand to brace himself against the truck.  Before he could restore his balance, Nika jumped down to join him.  Again he stepped back, and again he discovered that to be a very bad idea.  There being nothing that time to break his fall, he hit the ground amid a chorus of expletives. 

Thrilled with that particular development, Nika bounced around him, and Mackenzie pushed away from her, scrabbling back until he hit up against the truck. 

Drew grabbed her collar and pulled her back.  Her eye then on Mackenzie, she said, You okay?

He looked up, his face pale, his breathing fast, and his lips locked tight as if to hold back another round of expletives. 

Taking that as an answer of sorts, Laura crossed to him and reached down a hand, saying, Let’s get you up, shall we?

He ignored her.  Instead he used the truck door to haul himself back to his feet.  No sooner though did he put weight on his bad ankle than he began to sway, and his already pale face paled even further.  That time he didn’t reject the help offered.  His eyes closing and his face tight with the urge to keel over maybe or be sick, he seemed unaware when Laura took hold of an arm to steady him.

We need to get him inside, she said, and out of the sun.

Drew released Nika and took hold of Mackenzie’s right arm.  She then called for Frankie.  When he joined them, she had him take Laura’s place so she could go ahead.  She and Frankie then slung Mackenzie’s arms over their shoulders and started towards the ranch house.

No, wait, he said, the words coming as if past a throat convulsing to keep anything else from following.

Don’t you dare get sick, Drew said.  But if you really just have to, do me a favor and turn your head to the left.  Ignoring Frankie’s resulting protest, she added, And just so you know – of all the fantasies a woman can have of a guy falling at her feet, not one of them ends anything at all like this.  Just a little something you might want to keep in mind for future reference.

Chapter Two

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To Drew’s relief, they managed to get Mackenzie into the house and onto the couch without mishap.  Laura then directed them to lay him down with his feet propped on the arms of the couch and with no pillow beneath his head. 

Mackenzie made no protest, seemed not to even know what they were about.  Instead, he lay with his eyes tightly closed, his breathing coming rapid and uneven, and his face still an unhealthy shade of pale.

I can go call 911, Frankie offered, his eyes shining and his expression hopeful.

I think that can wait, Laura said.  Why don’t you go get him a glass of water instead.  And a wet towel.    

She pointed to the door leading into the kitchen, and Frankie looked to it and back at Mackenzie, his expression hopeful still.  He might be having a heart attack, you know.  It’s not just real old people who get them.

He’s not having a heart attack.

Could be a stroke then maybe.  Mr. Pfizer over at the high school had one.  He was just fine one minute, boring on about chemistry and stuff.  The next he dropped like a stone.  The paramedics said he was probably dead before he hit the floor.

It’s not a stroke either.  So if you could get him some water –

We should probably call though.  You wouldn’t want him dying on your couch or anything.

Frankie! Drew snapped, her tone one of command.  Water.

Frankie looked offended.  You don’t have to yell.  I’m going.  And go he did, all stiff dignity as he marched through the swinging door.  A minute later he was back with a glass of water and a dripping dish towel he handed to Laura.  You should probably not give him anything to drink, he said.  In case he needs surgery.  That’s what they say anyway.  No food or drink.  I guess they can choke on it if it comes back up.  Or something.

Laura ignored him.  Instead, she sat on the coffee table and set the glass down beside her.  She then folded the towel up, leaned over, and placed it on Mackenzie’s forehead.  When he turned his head away, groaning in protest, she reached out to keep the towel in place.  Take it easy, she said.  This will make you feel better, cool you off some.

She shifted her gaze to Drew.  Flip the switch for the ceiling fan, would you?

Frankie moved to the back of the couch and stood looking down on Mackenzie.  Holding out still for a bit of excitement, he said, Curt Loomis had heat stroke at football practice once.  Coach had some of us stick him in the shower to cool him off.  This guy’s not nearly as big as him.  I bet the three of us could handle him just fine if you want to give that a try.

Maybe in a bit, Laura said.  If he doesn’t get to feeling better.

Yeah, but we should do it now while he can still kind of walk.

Drew considered the vision that popped into her head, possibilities happily considered.  There were two nursemaids too many, however, for a workable fantasy.  That was another hint she’d need to give Mackenzie about the way fantasies were supposed to play out.  Still, maybe it wasn’t a total loss.  Frankie has a point, she said as she moved back to the couch.  About cooling off more of him than just his forehead, I mean.  We wouldn’t have to move him though.  Just undo a few buttons and –

I don’t think that will be necessary, Laura said, one corner of her lips twitching upwards.  Let’s just give it a minute, shall we?

Drew and Frankie both grumbled a response, but neither said anything more. 

A few minutes later Mackenzie turned his head again, opened his eyes, blinked at the fan above him, and frowned his confusion.  Unable, apparently, to make sense of the view straight ahead, he again turned his head.  His gaze fell that time on Laura, and he again blinked, as if to bring her into focus.

How are you feeling? she asked. 

He shifted his gaze from her to the room and back again, looking no less confused. 

You with us?

Could be he hit his head, Frankie said.  That can make a person act out of it like that.  Leastways, that’s what happened to Katie Steen in the third grade when she fell off her horse and down a gully. 

That time Laura didn’t reject his diagnosis.  Instead, she looked to Drew for a second opinion.

I suppose it’s possible, Drew said.  He fell on his back, so he could have walloped his head when he hit the ground.  He seemed okay afterwards though.

Back went Laura’s gaze to Mackenzie.  Is that it?  Did you hit your head?  Does it hurt?

Again he blinked.  Then, as if coming to awareness, he pushed up, saying, I’m fine. 

He neither looked nor sounded it.  His voice was shaky, his face was still pale, and he swayed too far in the opposite direction.  Only the hand he braced against the couch kept him upright.

Laura held out the glass of water to him.  Here.  This might help.

He looked from the glass to her and back again.  No.  I’m okay.  I just got a little dizzy.

Did you hit your head?

No.  I just....  He trailed off and shifted his gaze to the room again.  He then pushed up, that time half rising off the couch.  He sank back down though when he put his weight onto his left foot.

"Maybe we should call an ambulance," Laura said.

I’ll do it, Frankie offered, his eyes gleaming as he looked around for a phone.

Mackenzie stretched his left leg out and winced.  I told you – I’m fine.  I just need a minute.

Drew snorted.  Yeah, right.  ‘Fine’ and ‘face coloring one shade short of dead and gone’ are generally paired together in all the best medical textbooks.

Yeah, Frankie echoed, his tone eager.  He looks like he could keel over any second.  We should go ahead and call, just to be sure.

Laura set the rejected glass of water back down on the coffee table and again dashed Frankie’s hopes, saying, I think we can afford to wait a bit.

I don’t know though – I got to get back to work.

Then you go on and go.  Drew and I can take it from here.

You sure?  If he keels over you might need help.  Frankie’s tone that time was of a disappointment hopefully staved off, and Mackenzie blinked at him as if none too sure he was fully conscious.

We’ll be fine, Laura said.  You get going before Lon starts to thinking you’re off chasing Sarah Diener on company time again.

Frankie blushed.  Nonetheless, he held his ground.  Jutting his chin at Mackenzie, he said, What about him?  I said I’d give him a ride into town.

I’m heading that way myself in a bit.  I can give him a lift if he still wants one and is feeling up to it.

Frankie gave it up.  Okay, fine.  Something interesting finally happens in this two-horse town, and I’m off making cows happy.  Sure.  Why not.  He then grouched his way to the door. 

As the door slammed shut behind him, Mackenzie sat up, saying, Wait.  He’s got my stuff.

Drew went to the door, pulled it open, and called after the disgruntled Frankie, asking for the duffel bag on the truck’s front seat.  When he fetched it and handed it over to her, she closed the door, crossed back to the couch, and set the duffel bag down on it next to Mackenzie.

Taking hold of it, he fixed his gaze on the door, saying, I should go with him.

He sounded none too sure, so Drew said, I wouldn’t be in such a hurry if I were you.  You’re still pretty unsteady.  And as much as I like having a man fall at my feet, I have to say the third time isn’t necessarily the charm.

No.  But I shouldn’t....  Again Mackenzie trailed off, his gaze going back to the room around him.  Then, with a sharp shake of his head, he said, No.  I should go.

I’d rather you didn’t, Laura said.  Not yet.  Not until –

He jerked his gaze to her, his eyes wide and his expression startled.  Or expectant maybe. 

Laura faltered beneath that gaze and seemed to have forgotten whatever she’d meant to say.  Something then passed between them that Drew couldn’t interpret.  Something that kept them still and silent.  Something that had an air about it of....  She didn’t know what.  Expectation maybe.  Like they were waiting for something.  Which didn’t exactly make a lot of sense.

Before she could puzzle it out, Laura found words again, her voice uncertain as she said, You should just stay.

He said nothing to that.  Instead, he continued to sit holding her gaze, his face still pale but some faint color come back, as if life that had gone missing had returned.

Laura blinked, shook herself, and said, Now, about that ankle....

Whatever had passed between them apparently over, Mackenzie dragged his gaze from her to the ankle in question.  It’s okay, he said.  I just twisted it a bit.

A bit?

And then again.

They were back then to that.  And Laura proved as skeptical as Drew had been.  It might be broken, she said.  You should get it x-rayed.

No.  That’s okay.

Or I could take a look at it if you’d like.

Drew wanted to volunteer her services as a nursing assistant, but Mackenzie shook his head with a jerk before she could make an offer.  Don’t worry, she said, not ready yet to give up on that particular fantasy.  Laura hasn’t lost a patient in weeks.  And she wouldn’t have lost that last one if the chain saw hadn’t slipped.

She’d meant to tease him in to letting Laura at least have her way with him, but he shot her a frowning look, as if none too sure she was joking.

Unable to resist, she looked to Laura.  You want me to go fetch the chain saw?

Again Laura twitched her lips.  Why don’t we start with the first aid kit, she said, and take it from there.

More than happy to take that prompt as far as it would go, Drew gave herself a promotion.  "It’s been a while since I last played doctor, but I’m game if he is."

He drew his brows down a little deeper into a frown, like he sure hoped she was kidding that time.

And as if that wasn’t enough to kill off her fantasy, Laura added a killshot of her own into the mix.  I don’t think we need get quite that... medically... involved, she said, her lips again twitching upwards.  But if you want, you can take the bandage out of its wrapper for me.

That not the wrapper Drew was fantasizing about removing, she sighed and said, Sure.  Fine.  First you spoil Frankie’s fun.  Now mine.  Assuming then a martyr’s air, she went after the first aid kit. 

When she returned, Laura and Mackenzie were sitting in silence, Mackenzie’s gaze back on his ankle and Laura’s gaze on him, a slight wrinkling of her brows giving notice of some puzzle being worked out.  She left off her study, however, when Drew handed her the first aid kit.  She then dug out the needed items and poured antiseptic on a piece of gauze.  This will sting a bit, she warned.

Mackenzie looked up but didn’t say anything as Laura pressed the gauze against the scrape on his forehead.  He did, however, bring his hand halfway up to stop her, only to apparently think better of the move and drop it onto his duffel bag.

There, Laura said when she’d cleaned and bandaged the scrape.  That ought to do it.  Just be sure to keep it clean.  She gathered up the bloody gauze and the Band-Aid wrapper and put the antiseptic back into the box.  There’s no bump, so I don’t think you did more than scrape the skin.  But that doesn’t mean you didn’t get a good knock elsewhere.  She eyed him as if searching out signs of a skull fracture.  Anything to report besides that scrape and your ankle?

No.

Then maybe I should take a look at that ankle.

He lowered his gaze again.  You don’t have to.

I might not have to, but I’d like to.  If you don’t mind, that is.

No.  It’s okay.  I just need to rest it a minute.  Then I’ll go.

He seemed ready to do just that, poised as he was on the edge of the couch with one hand clutching tight to his duffel bag as if ready to make a run for the door.  Yet he made no move to leave.  Instead, he sat halfway between going and staying – and stayed.

How long do you plan to keep this up? Laura asked.

He jerked his head up, and his face paled, as if the too-quick move had sent the blood rushing away from his brain.  What do you mean?

You look like you haven’t had a decent meal or a good night’s sleep in quite a while.  And I don’t mean eating in some greasy diner or sleeping curled up next to a tombstone in some cemetery either.  He blinked, and Laura added, At least, I assume that’s what you were doing in the cemetery last night – looking for a place to sleep.  He lowered his gaze, and Laura went on.  If that’s how you’ve been taking care of yourself lately, it’s no wonder you felt dizzy.  Not, I’m sure, that your fall out of that tree helped matters any.

I’m sorry, he said.  I shouldn’t have been up there.

Relax, Drew said.  They stopped hanging trespassers around here a couple of years ago.  Now they just give them forty lashes.

She grinned at him, letting him know that time she was only joking. 

And again he failed to find her amusing.  He only flicked her a quick look though and dropped his gaze, saying, This was a stupid idea.  And as if a better one had occurred to him, he pushed up again. 

Settling his weight on his left leg, he offered a tight smile.  See?  It’s okay.  He was in no hurry, however, to prove his claim.  Instead he remained where he was as if working up the nerve to trust his full weight to his injured ankle.

Laura tried again.  We should probably get it x-rayed.

No.  It’s not broken.

And you know this how?

He hesitated.  Then he shrugged and said, I broke it a while back, and it doesn’t take much for it to act up.

Drew raised an eyebrow.  Not much.  Like tramping down the road maybe?

Laura’s expression shifted into one of surprise.  You walked all the way from town? 

I hitched a ride on a flatbed trailer that was loaded with some kind of farm machinery.  It turned off at the ranch before this one.

Where are you headed? 

He dropped his gaze.  It doesn’t matter.

Of course it does.

He said nothing to that, so Drew answered Laura’s question for him.  He said he was going home.

Okay, then.  If it’s not too far, maybe we can work something out, find a way to get you there. 

Forget it.  His tone was flat.  Home’s a long way from here. 

"And just where might home be?"

Drew thought he was going to again refuse to answer.  Instead, he looked right at Laura and said, Alaska. 

He seemed to wait, as if he expected that answer to mean something, and Drew looked from him to Laura in search of whatever she again wasn’t getting.  Not that Laura seemed to be getting it either.  Or so her brows drawn down in puzzle-pondering mode declared.  So Drew gave Mackenzie a prompt.  You must have an awful lot of faith in the kindness of strangers to hitchhike all that way.  And in this day and age, that’s really saying something. 

He said nothing to that, only looked to her and away. 

Apparently reading something into that, Laura said, Do your parents know you’re hitchhiking?  I’m sure they must worry if they do.  I’m just as sure they’d be glad to send you the price of a ticket home if you need it. 

I can get there on my own.

In other words, you’re too proud to ask for help.  And in your present circumstances, that could pose a bit of a problem. 

Mackenzie shifted the duffel bag and slipped an arm through the strap.  He then hoisted the bag onto one shoulder, saying, I told you – I don’t need help.  I can do whatever I have to.  Whatever it takes to do what needs doing.

Why not call your parents?  Or a friend? 

Mackenzie frowned.  What does it matter what I do?  I fell out of your tree, and I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to –  He cut the words off, looked away, and took a breath in.  Look, it doesn’t matter.  Okay?  None of this does.  It was a mistake, and I need to get out of here.

He stepped forward on his left foot and jerked his right leg forward to take his weight again.  He then repeated the steps, his lips formed into a tight line.

I can give you a ride, Laura said, as if hoping to forestall him. 

He continued to jerk forward, aiming for the front door.

Then let me give you a job.

He stopped, half turned, opened his mouth to say something, closed it on a word that didn’t come, and opened it again to form a confused question.  What?  I....  He blinked.  What?

"You can say that again," Drew said with a blink of her own. 

She wasn’t the only one surprised – Laura looked a bit surprised herself.  Still, she was quick to run with what was obviously an impulse.  You need money to get home, right?  And I need some help around here.  She nodded, as if at some question answered and asked.  She then said, What kind of work do you do?

Again Mackenzie opened his mouth to form a word that went missing.  He tried again. And that time he managed to say, if none too surely, I do all kinds.  But mostly construction work.

So you’re handy with a set of tools?

He looked unsure still and answered as if feeling his way through a field of bear traps.  I know my way around a hammer and nails. 

Laura showed no such uncertainty.  Instead, she barreled ahead.  In that case, your problem is solved.  I have the perfect job for you right here on the ranch.  I’d like to get the place in tiptop shape, really fix it up.

Drew had missed something somewhere along the way.  Although just where everything had gone so out of whack she didn’t know.  Maybe when she’d gone to collect the first aid kit.  Maybe Rod Serling had stepped into the room just as she’d stepped out, and he was even then hiding behind the curtains having a good laugh.  Taking a quick look at the curtains in search of feet sticking out the bottom of them and finding none, she turned back to Laura and said, If you need work done, why not call one of your old hands?  They all offered to help out if you need anything.

Because they all have other jobs now.  Mackenzie, on the other hand, is here and in need of the work.  The matter thus settled to her satisfaction, Laura turned to her prospective employee.  I’ll give you room and board, plus a salary.

He frowned.  "You want me to work here?"

Yes.  There’s a small cabin across from the house you can stay in.  It’s actually the bunkhouse, but it’s empty right now.

His frown deepened.  You don’t have any ranch hands?  Who takes care of the cattle?

His question was perfectly logical, but Drew thought he was maybe less interested in the answer than in buying himself time to make sense of things.

We don’t have any cattle either, Laura said.  My father sold them when he decided he wasn’t going to get better.  The only stock we have now is a couple of horses, and I take care of them.  So all you’d have to do is a bit of carpentry.  She held out a hand.  Is it a deal? 

Mackenzie looked to that hand held out and made no attempt to offer his own.  Questions being worked out maybe and no answers found, he raised his gaze again.  Why are you doing this?  What difference does it make what happens to me?  You don’t even know me.

You didn’t know Hannibal either when you climbed up that tree after him.  But that didn’t stop you. 

He looked away.  That was different. 

Why?  You didn’t have any obligation to go to his rescue.  You could have walked away.  Yet you didn’t. 

And look what it got me.

Laura shrugged.  So our charitable impulses don’t always turn out as well as we’d like.

Mackenzie jerked his gaze back to her.  Is that what this is?  Charity?

I assure you, my impulses are far from charitable.  If you take the job, I plan on getting my money’s worth out of you and then some.  You don’t have to make a decision right now though.  Take a minute to catch your breath.  In the meantime, I’ll see about lunch.  With that, Laura strode out of the room and into the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door. 

Mackenzie stood looking after her, his expression that of a man hit by a bus and not quite sure how it had happened or what to do next. 

Her first weeks there on the ranch well remembered, Drew took pity on him.  I strongly suggest you take that minute to catch your breath, she said.  With Laura around, you won’t have too many chances at it.  She tends to move through life at breakneck speed, and you either keep up with her or get out of her way.

Mackenzie looked as if he thought the bus that had hit him would be coming back for another pass.  Do you think she meant it?  About the job? 

Oh, she meant it.  Laura never says anything she doesn’t mean.

And does she always take charge like that?

Oh, yeah.  She has this vision, you see, of how the world should be run, and she doesn’t believe any other possibilities exist.  And that being the case, why shouldn’t everyone fall in with her plans?

But why?  Mackenzie faltered, searched out words, sense still to be made.  "I’m just some guy passing by.  I wasn’t asking for