A Stolen Youth

By Angela Studer

Wyatt James is a cowboy, son, nephew and ex-con. After spending ten years in prison, he returns home to the Double N Ranch where he grew up. He plans to move on and start anew, leaving the past behind with the support of his loving aunt and uncle. However, things arent as easy as hed hoped, especially when he meets Kate.

Kate Walker accidentally drops a milk can right on Wyatts head. She knocks him out, and when he wakes, hes got a black eye and two lumps on his head. Despite their awkward first encounter, the two feel drawn together and ultimately share a kiss. Love is in the air until Wyatt runs into the local sheriff who helped lock him up.

Willing to overlook Wyatts sordid past, Kate wants to love himbut he might not be ready. Hes still battling some demons of his own, even as he prepares to let Kate into his life. Together, they must learn to trust each other. Some old enemies, though, have nasty intentions, especially as Wyatt and Kate go digging into the long kept secrets that led to his prison time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532039904

Angela Studer

Angela Studer works in a hospital Intensive Care Unit as a psychiatric nurse. She has had a passion for the written word since grade school and enjoys many styles of writing. She and her husband have five children and live in Southern Ontario, Canada.

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Copyright © 2018 Angela Studer.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-3989-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3991-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3990-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018900076

iUniverse rev. date: 02/16/2018

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

F resh air—or was it free air?

Either way, it felt good. It had been a long time since it felt that good to take a deep breath. To be honest, he didn’t know the last time it had happened, not for pleasure at least. He closed his eyes and felt the morning sun on his face. This was a good start.

As he opened his eyes, he turned to look at the prison doors that he couldn’t remember seeing this side of. He stooped to open his duffel bag and pulled out a small pouch. He rubbed the sides with his fingers, savoring the feel of the soft leather. Slowly, he pulled the string away that was holding it closed. He reached in and pulled out a rawhide strip that was looped twice around with a copper bead at both ends. It was a rodeo friendship bracelet that he and his best friend had given each other a long time ago. He tightened it around his wrist and picked up the duffel bag that held the few possessions he owned.

A chill ran clear through to his bones. He wasn’t coming back here. He was tired of being just a number. He was Wyatt James, cowboy, son, nephew, and ex-con. That was the way it was; he couldn’t change that. But he could move on if people would let him, and that was exactly what he was going to do, starting now.

When he stepped from the bus, he was disappointed. Not that he really expected anyone to be there—hoped maybe. He shrugged it off and made his way out of the station onto the main street. It didn’t look anything like the way he remembered it. Why would it? If ten years could change a boy into a man, why couldn’t it change a whole town? He headed south toward Sparkey’s Café. To his relief, it was still there and looking the same as always.

When he opened the door, the sights and sounds of times he’d had there came flooding back with such force he almost lost his grip on the door handle. A little shaky, he walked to the end of the narrow café to a small booth.

He hung his old cowboy hat on the hook between the two seats and sat with his back to the wall so he could see the whole place in one glance. That was something he had learned to do. He had been in prison for only a few weeks when he was taught—the hard way—that you kept your back to the wall and your eyes open.

Wyatt was just finishing up his meal when the waitress placed a bottle of Coors in front of him and started to walk away. Miss, he called quietly, but she didn’t hear him with all the racket from the dinner rush.

Out of nowhere, a giant hand came to rest on his right shoulder. With a start, he turned at the same time the hand gave a gentle squeeze.

Well, I’ll be. Boy, you’re not supposed to be here till tomorrow, said the man standing beside the booth.

Uncle Noah, Wyatt replied.

He rose quickly to his feet to greet the man with the only thing he felt could show just how good it was to see him. The bear hug couldn’t begin to go completely around him, but Wyatt was determined to encircle as much of him as he could. And it was fervently returned.

A while later, most of the patrons had finished their dinner and left. The two men were still sitting in the small booth, talking and drinking their beers.

So, you still never said why you were a day early, the older man said.

I just rode the bus straight through instead of taking a stopover. Wyatt hoped that would satisfy his uncle for now.

Well, you should have called. Somebody would have met you and brought you home for dinner, instead of eating this crap, he said with a glint in his eye, knowing Sparkey was at the next table.

Well, who asked you to eat here, you old has-been? Sparkey retorted gruffly. He snorted as he limped away on his bad leg.

You two still have the same relationship, I see.

Yep. He may still call me an old has-been, but he still has some of our old rodeo pictures hanging up around this place. Noah laughed. I’m going to settle up with the old buzzard before he gets to kicking us out.

Wyatt smiled as he watched the two men talk. They had been friends for more than thirty years. They had lived the rodeo circuit together, and then when Noah and Nora got married, it was the three of them. Sparkey rode until Nine One One, the bull he drew one night in Vegas, busted up his leg, which ended his career.

His aunt and uncle were still involved for a few more years until Clay came along. That’s when they decided to buy the ranch, naming it the Double N. It was Sparkey who told them about it. Charlie and Mavis Brackett’s ranch had gone into foreclosure and was just what they had pictured having someday.

They bought it with cash. They had been banking almost all their winnings. All they had was a pickup with a camper and a horse trailer. It didn’t take much to live that way, so they managed to save quite a lot of money.

Earl Brackett, the son of Charlie and Mavis, had caused a bit of trouble for them when they first bought the ranch. He had wanted to keep it Brackett land but was unable to raise the money. He made false reports to the sheriff of illegal activities and falsifying of legal documents. Earl even tried to report them for cruelty to animals. He soon left them alone when he realized they were not going to be scared off. He stayed in the area and eventually became the sheriff.

The sheriff who did nothing to help Wyatt ten years ago. He often thought it might have been Brackett’s way of squaring old hurts. He shook his head and finished off his beer. None of that mattered now. In about half an hour, he would be back at the Double N. He would be home.

Outside, the sun was getting pretty low, and the air had a cleansing coolness to it. Wyatt stood outside and took in the sight of the sun setting down behind the mountains. He had thought about this sight every night inside his windowless cell. He thought he had come close to remembering the colors, the detail of the rocks, and how it reflected off the clouds. He realized now how far off he had been. He was glad he hadn’t known.

Just ain’t no sight like it, is there? asked Noah from behind.

No, Uncle Noah, there sure isn’t.

Come on. Let’s get on home. Your aunt’s gonna be busting her apron strings as it is for me missing supper, but I figure I’ll just let you go in first, and I should be safe.

Wyatt had to laugh at his uncle’s mock fear of his wife. Wyatt and everyone else knew that his aunt Nora adored this man, as he did her, and had for just over thirty years.

Wyatt always wished someday he would find something that good.

The drive to the ranch was a good half hour. They spent that time catching up on what was going on with the ranch, upcoming events, and who was seeing whom, nothing very deep. Wyatt was thankful for that. There was time for the tough stuff later. For tonight, he just wanted to go home.

Wyatt could smell the aroma of fresh coffee drifting up from the kitchen, slowly waking him from the most peaceful sleep he could remember. He resisted opening his eyes in case it was just the remnants of a vivid dream. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. It wasn’t a dream. He rose up on his elbows and surveyed the room.

The sun was gently dusting the room with light. There was a soft breeze fluttering the white lace curtains, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring. The fragrance of flowers in new bloom, the scent of the early dew on grass, and dirt … dirt! Even the dirt smelled good.

Wyatt closed his eyes, and a picture of all the cement came to mind. In the ten years he was gone, not once did he feel dirt under his boots. Hell, not even grass, not even boots, since he was only issued running shoes!

He had to stop this. He sat up and swung his legs out. It was done, over. There was no point in wasting one more second on the past. As Uncle Noah said last night, Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life, Wyatt. Don’t look back. That old cliché didn’t sound all that profound last night, but he was right, and Wyatt knew it.

Wyatt dressed and headed downstairs with a resolve to do exactly what Noah had told him. Looking back, that was one thing that hadn’t changed; it seemed to Wyatt that, in the end, Noah was always right.

His aunt didn’t hear him come up behind her. She was busy with something at the counter. Wyatt quickly slipped his arms around her waist and planted a kiss on the side of her cheek. She let out a squeal of surprise and spun around to see who was being so bold this early in the morning, in her kitchen.

You scared the daylights out of me, she said with a playful slap to Wyatt’s shoulder, flashing him a bright smile.

I just couldn’t resist. I remember the chances of getting something past you were few and far between. I’m sure that hasn’t changed, Wyatt said, returning the smile. So I smelled coffee. Is there any left or did Uncle Noah finish it all?

Of course there is. My coffeepot is never empty—for very long, anyway, she said with pride, turning to get Wyatt some.

He found his way to the table and sat in the chair that put his back to the wall. He ran his hand over the worn wood table, feeling all the nicks and grooves from the years the table had been there. Then he ran his hand underneath, searching for what he knew was there.

It’s on this side, Nora announced, placing the coffee in front of him.

Like I said, nobody could get anything past you. Wyatt laughed as he reached for his cup.

I never told you two, but I watched you and your cousin carve your names in this table from the kitchen window.

Why didn’t you stop us?

What for? This table is four inches thick; it wasn’t like you were going to come through it with those little pocketknives of yours. Besides, now you’re both a part of the history of this table and this family. She sighed and turned quickly back to the counter where she had been busy before.

Wyatt knew what she meant. He and his cousin Clay were inseparable. If one was up to something, you could guarantee the other wasn’t far away. They had dared each other to carve their names in the table for days and had gotten nowhere. They finally agreed they had to do it together. They thought they were pretty slick after that. They were a force to be reckoned with, they thought. But his aunt had known the whole time, even watched as they committed their crime.

The sound of glass breaking tore Wyatt from his trip down memory lane as he looked up at his aunt. She quickly held her hand in a cloth over the sink. Wyatt jumped up and took his aunt’s hand in his to inspect the damage. The towel was red with blood already.

It’s okay. I just cut my finger on the glass I dropped, she protested, trying to pull her hand from Wyatt’s.

You won’t mind me taking a look then, will you? he said, ignoring her attempts to pull away.

He removed the towel and located just where the blood was coming from. The palm of her hand was cut open—not just a finger, as she had suggested. It was bleeding quite a bit but didn’t appear to be deep.

We need to clean it out. Put your hand under the water.

Ouch, Nora yelped as she pulled her hand out from under the water.

Jeez, Aunt Nora. Now I know who Clay got being a crybaby from. Wyatt started to laugh as he looked up at his aunt but quickly stopped when he saw her face.

Clay was nothing of the sort. How could you say that? she replied, her voice cracking with emotion.

I … I didn’t mean anything. I just meant …

You of all people should know how … what Clay was, she said, trying to control the emotion that, Wyatt could see, threatened to overcome her. Oh, Wyatt, I miss him so.

Wyatt leaned forward and pulled his aunt to his chest as her tears came. He knew he should try to say something to comfort her, but he didn’t know if he could trust himself. He missed Clay too. More than anyone knew. Clay was her son; he couldn’t compare his loss to hers. He couldn’t, especially now.

He guided her to a chair and sat her down, kneeling in front of her. He still had his arms around her, but she was much calmer. He released his hold on her and sat back on his heels. He reached up and brushed away a single tear that had escaped her almost frantic wiping. She was using her apron to remove all evidence.

I’m sorry I upset you, Aunt Nora. I shouldn’t have said that. He tried to avoid looking directly at her, still not sure he could take it.

Nora lifted her good hand and ran it through Wyatt’s hair and down behind his ear to rest on his cheek, turning his head slightly so she could look right in his eyes.

Wyatt, it wasn’t you, not directly anyway. She sighed deeply before she continued. "Having you back here, it’s like having Clay back too. You boys were like two peas in a pod. We lost you both within a couple of years.

Noah and I all but went crazy dealing with you being taken away to prison, but when we lost Clay too so soon after, it felt like something was gone forever. Then there you were, drinking coffee in my kitchen like I’ve been picturing in my mind over and over for years. They’re mostly happy tears, happy that one of my rascals is home.

Wyatt swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Let’s get that hand fixed up, shall we? Wyatt suggested, getting to his feet, getting busy. There was no way he was taking the crybaby title from Clay at this late stage, not today anyway.

Now just take it easy, Kate. What the blazes are you doing with my clothes?

Luckily for you, I’m just throwing them out the window and not in the fire.

Just what do you want to go and do that for?

Jared White, are you still drunk or just really stupid? Kate yelled from the upstairs window where she was pitching anything and everything she could find that belonged to him. And if you don’t clean up this mess and get off my ranch in the next ten minutes, the next thing I stick out this window will be my grandpa’s rifle, and you know what kind of aim I have. She slammed the window closed.

Kate knew that Jared was well aware of the aim she had. It was because of her and her aim that he was still alive today. He had been up in the mountains hunting when his horse spooked and he was thrown off, breaking his leg. It was her who had found him a few minutes after the grizzly discovered his whereabouts.

One shot was all it had taken. One well-placed, well-aimed shot.

She had heard him tell people he felt the wind off the bullet, as it passed him and into the grizzly. At least that’s what he told everyone when he was drinking. Kate also knew Jared was well aware she wasn’t one for idle threats, as she watched him quickly get started on picking up his scattered belongings.

Kate turned from the window and limped to the bathroom. She needed some cold water on her face to cool her temper. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t shoot Jared, but getting her temper under control wouldn’t hurt just in case.

It was a good thing she kept her grandpa’s rifle in the lockbox in her truck. She couldn’t remember being so furious. She tied back her hair in one long ponytail and splashed the cold water on her face and neck. As she dried off, she felt a little calmer but knew it wouldn’t last long if Jared was still there. She looked around for her crutches and found them alongside the bed where she had thrown them in disgust the night before. Boy, she hated being dependent on anything, even if it was just two pieces of wood.

Slowly she made her way down the few stairs. Once she made it to the kitchen, she saw the fresh pot of coffee. Well, at least he made the coffee first, before I kicked his sorry hide out of here.

Wyatt was leaning up against the corral watching the two palomino foals frolicking in the sun. They were so full of life, so eager to revel in the simple pleasure of just feeling the warm sun on their backs and kicking up their heels.

Pretty, aren’t they? the deep voice boomed.

Wyatt jumped, caught off guard again by his uncle. He thought he had become pretty good at knowing when someone was coming up behind him. Noah was the first person to be able to do it in ten years. He thought of the last person who had done it, and a chill ran through him as if the sun had suddenly disappeared.

Do you practice sneaking up on people, Uncle Noah?

The whole damn cavalry could have snuck up on you, boy. You looked like you were a million miles away, Noah said.

No, Uncle Noah. I was just a few hundred miles away, but I’m back to stay. Wyatt smiled, knowing that it was true. He would never leave again.

Glad to hear it. And I know someone else that will be too. Come with me. He threw his arm around Wyatt’s shoulder and led him toward the barn.

Wyatt sat overlooking the bluff. This had to be the most beautiful place on earth. He closed his eyes and felt the cool breeze on his face and the sun reaching to warm his skin through his jeans. If he wasn’t careful, he would fall asleep. He was just thinking about getting up when the decision was made for him. The wet, hairy muzzle landed right over his mouth. Wyatt jumped up, spitting and wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve.

That’s really disgusting, Caytie, Wyatt growled at the horse If you wanted a kiss, you could have just asked, you know.

The horse looked at Wyatt as if she had no idea why he’d be upset. Wyatt started laughing.

He could still remember the day she was born. Her mother had a really hard time and had died a few minutes after Caytie’s birth. He had practically lived in the barn that summer, feeding and being the colt’s mama. As she got bigger, she followed Wyatt everywhere, although Aunt Nora drew the line at letting the horse in the house. So, most often, he and Clay slept in the barn with her.

When the time came that she was big enough to start to train for riding, Wyatt threw on her blanket and saddle and got on. There were a few small adjustments on both sides, but basically it was as easy as that. Uncle Noah had told him it was because they had built up their trust of each other from day one. His uncle was right this morning; he could swear she was glad to see him.

You did miss me, didn’t you, girl? Wyatt asked, rubbing the horse’s neck. We better get moving. We’ve one stop to make before we take this basket over to that widow lady, Mrs. Walker. We’re to get it there for lunch. We better hurry up, or Aunt Nora might make me eat in the barn with you tonight.

The horse snorted and rubbed her head into Wyatt’s shirt, as if to say she wouldn’t mind at all.

It took about fifteen minutes for Wyatt to ride up to the meadow behind the cabin where he had spent so much time as a kid. He dismounted and walked over to the stand of big oak trees.

He could hear the river as it flowed quickly with the spring thaw. He remembered that whenever Clay was upset or needed time to himself, he came here. Wyatt was glad that his aunt and uncle had picked this spot.

He removed his hat, knelt down on one knee, and looked at the headstone in front of him. He ran his hand through his hair and down onto the back of his neck. He had thought about going there for the last seven years. But now that he was there, he didn’t know if he knew what to say. He had rehearsed it over and over, night after night.

He looked at the headstone and read the inscription.

In memory of a beloved son, whose brilliant light will continue to shine in everyone’s heart forever. Clay Stephen James.

Wyatt sat down on the ground and put his head in his hands. The reality of Clay being gone hit him like a powerful, gut-wrenching blow. He wondered if he would be able to hold on to his breakfast.

He realized that, until now, he had never fully accepted that Clay was dead. He had never seen any evidence of that fact. The only thing that had changed for him was that Clay didn’t come and visit him in jail anymore.

Slowly he got up and began to brush away the dead leaves and sticks that had