Colton on the Run Page 2

  Away from the spinning, colored lights she feared more than the night.

  * * *

  It had been three months since Leo Slattery had returned to Roaring Springs, Colorado. Three months since he’d dropped his duffel containing everything he owned onto the front porch of his grandparents’ farmhouse. Three months and he was still getting used to the quiet.

  Ollie, his grandfather’s German shepherd, returned to his side after having finished his breakfast and plopped his behind on the linoleum floor. Leo smiled down at his only companion these days, a zing of energy coursing through him.

  After growing up off and on at this ranch, he’d spent the majority of his post-high-school years working oil rigs and pipelines up in Alaska. The absence of whining, grinding machinery, workmen’s yells, and the clangs and bangs of metal against metal took getting used to. He wouldn’t have thought it would be difficult to acclimate to the quiet of his grandparents’ ranch.

  The morning began as it always did, with Leo standing at Grandma Essie’s favorite spot—the kitchen window—sipping fresh-brewed coffee as he stared out at the sun peeking up over the glorious mountains on a late-July morning. A sad smile curved his lips as he could hear Essie’s soft, commanding voice echoing through the house she had run with a general’s attention to detail and a gentle, guiding hand. A former army nurse who had left the service after falling hard for navy man Isaac Slattery, this house had been Essie’s pride and joy, while the ranch and the land had been his grandfather’s.

  Now the ranch—all of it—was Leo’s.

  Unease and grief percolated low and deep in his belly. Some days he still couldn’t believe they were gone. His grandfather had passed of a stroke while out tending the herd late last year, his grandmother only four months later, in her sleep. Their longtime foreman had found her lying in bed, on her side, her hand placed over the spot where Isaac had slept beside her for more than fifty years.

  Tethered, Leo had thought when he’d received the news. His grandfather had always declared he and Essie were tethered at the heart; they weren’t meant to be here without one another. And so they’d gone on. Leaving their legacy and all their hard work to their only surviving grandchild. A grandchild who, once his contract expired up north, headed back to the only place he’d ever called home.

  “Time to get a start on the day.” Leo’s declaration had Ollie whining in anticipation, and the dog trotted over to the back door to wait. He filled a thermos with the last of the coffee, grabbed a stale bagel left from the grocery run he’d made early last week and shrugged into his grandfather’s old, long suede riding jacket. Isaac’s hat was an afterthought as Leo inhaled the aroma of his grandfather’s cigars—the only thing Isaac and Essie had ever argued about.

  Leo took a deep breath of cool morning air once outside. What he wouldn’t give to hear their teasing bickering again. Or to see his grandfather’s dark, obsidian eyes glimmer with love as he gazed upon the woman he’d fallen for at first sight.

  He closed the back door behind him and headed for the stable to saddle Duke while Ollie raced to the barn several yards away, no doubt to hunt down that pesky cat that had been lurking around the smaller structure a few days before. The dog was still excited to be back home after being boarded with a foster family after Essie’s death. One of Leo’s many regrets was that he hadn’t been able to claim the dog sooner so they could grieve their loss together.

  There were days he wished he had someone to share this life with, someone besides his canine companion, but who had the time to go through all that when there was work to be done. Work that at times took him from sunrise to sunset.

  “You’ll do for now, won’t you, Duke?” Rotating among the four horses his grandfather had kept when he’d downsized a few years back seemed the appropriate way for Leo to go about things, but there was something about the chestnut gelding that always called to Leo. Maybe it was that he’d been Essie’s favorite, too. Maybe it was that he could feel the horse grieving his grandparents’ loss as much as he did. Or maybe he had been spending far too much time alone out here on the seemingly endless two thousand acres.

  “Won’t be alone for long, though.” Leo grunted as he saddled up Duke, then gave the other horses a good-morning pat. He had his eye on a truckload of new cattle by the end of the year, and he’d need additional help to keep the ranch running smoothly. His grandfather’s foreman had stayed long enough to get Leo acclimated, help with the season’s hay cutting and storage, then retired to spend the rest of his days in New Mexico. The other ranch hands had moved on, as well.

  Which just left Leo and Gwen, his grandfather’s right-hand woman for the past four years. Part horse whisperer, Gwen had put herself through school as a large-animal veterinary assistant. The thirty-two-year-old was currently on safari in Africa, an extended honeymoon with her bride, Lacey.

  Only problem with taking care of fifty head of cattle on his own was that by the time he got back from ranch duties, all he wanted to do was curl up with dinner and a book.

  His hope that by the time Gwen and Lacey returned he’d have at least one of the outbuildings ready for them to move into was a fading hope, despite it being the perfect enticement for Gwen to accept the promotion. Until then...

  With such a small herd, Leo didn’t need to be spending the extra money on help when he could handle things himself. But once that count quadrupled and grew, well, Gwen was going to be thrilled she’d had a vacation.

  “You up for a morning run, Duke?” Leo ran his hand down the gelding’s nose. “I know I am.”

  A sharp bark exploded from the direction of the barn. Duke neighed and stomped back. “That’s just Ollie,” Leo reminded the horse even as his own curiosity piqued. The German shepherd wasn’t normally quick to bark and certainly wasn’t easily spooked. “I bet he’s gotten himself tangled up again.” The still-young pup had a tendency of playing with ropes left lying around. On the bright side, Leo would bet the dog could win his share of knot-tying contests.

  “I’d best go see what’s going on. You wait for me here, okay?” As if the horse was going to go anywhere. Other than to the feed bag Leo had filled the second he came into the stable. Chuckling to himself, he looped the reins around the hitching post and headed to the barn.

  Ollie’s barking was getting louder. Leo found him just inside the door of the barn, at attention, nose pointed to the back corner where the hay was piled as high as the second story. “What’s going on, boy?” He bent down to scrub the dog’s undercoat. “Something got you spooked? You find that mean old cat you were chasing the other day?”

  Leo froze at the rustling in the corner. That wasn’t any cat. And that barely there whimper set his ears on alert.

  “Whoever you are—” Leo rose to his feet “—I don’t mean any harm, but you need to be moving on.”

  More rustling. More scrambling. Metal scraping against the plank siding.

  “I mean it.” He moved forward, Ollie close beside him growling low in the back of his throat. “I know it was cold out last night and you probably needed a place to—” he rounded the back of the hay bales “—sleep.” Whatever else he was planning to say evaporated from his mind. The woman crouching in the corner of the barn stared back at him with wide-eyed fear. “Hello.”

  Was it possible to be perfectly coherent and still think he was imagining things? The woman huddled before him had hair the color of a summer bonfire, bright red with copper-and-gold highlights. Hair that was tangled around her shoulders and her face. A beautiful face that reminded him of his grandmother’s bisque china collection. Delicate but sturdy enough to withstand the trembling coursing through her. Dark blood had trickled down the side of her face to soak the once-white silk blouse. Silk? Out here on the outskirts of town? Her equally bright slacks were torn and muddy, and her filthy bare feet were covered with cuts and scrapes.

  The dazed expression in her eyes
triggered every protective instinct within Leo. He crouched, trying to make himself appear as small as possible as he continued his assessment. Beneath and around the grime on her face, he could see the distinct impression of a large hand—a welt that had bled, but not as profusely as the gash on her head. The way her shirt was ripped told him it hadn’t been the result of errant branches or trees but by angry, determined hands.

  Had she been raped?

  Leo swallowed his fury. Whatever had happened, she didn’t need anger or outrage. She needed calm understanding. She needed his help...and his protection. He forced himself to relax, to act as if they were doing nothing more than meeting over coffee at the diner in town. Ollie finally relaxed and sat down, then looked from Leo to the woman.

  She shifted, only slightly, and the rusted garden shears in her hands glinted in the morning sunlight streaming through the upper opening of the barn. He remained still, his hand deep in Ollie’s fur.

  “You’re hurt.” He kept his voice low. Soft. Gentle.

  She flinched. And nodded once.

  “Was there an accident? Were you in a car?” He resisted the urge to look behind him to scan outside, but he would have noticed a vehicle in the vicinity.

  Her fingers went white around the shears.

  “Were you alone?” He tried again. “Is someone else hurt? I should go call—” He shifted back, turned as if about to stand and felt her hand grip his arm. Leo tried to ignore the instant jolt that shot straight through him as if she’d dived at him, as if she’d jump-started his dormant heart.

  Ollie growled, moved in, sniffed the woman’s hand and, after a moment, pushed his nose solidly against her arm as if demanding a pet. Given Ollie was a pretty good judge of character, Leo relaxed.

  “Please.” Her voice was barely a whisper before she cleared it. “Please don’t call anyone. I just need—” She frowned as if uncertain of what she needed, but then she released his arm. However, instead of regripping the shears, she placed her trembling hand on Ollie’s determined head. Tears glimmered in her eyes. “Pretty dog.”

  Ollie blinked over at Leo as if to verify his master had heard the compliment.

  “Best dog around.” The only dog at the moment, Leo added silently. At least with Ollie his unexpected visitor seemed a bit more at ease. “Can you tell me what happened to you?” He reached a hand out to her face, determined to check how badly she’d been struck, but she flinched. “I won’t hurt you...” He waited for her to tell him her name.

  Instead, all he got was a blank, brown, doe-eyed stare.

  “All right...you can tell me later,” he murmured. “I’m Leo. Leo Slattery. You’re on my ranch.” He considered offering his hand, but didn’t want to pressure her. She wasn’t in any condition to be on her own, and one wrong move on his part would have her scurrying away. “Would you like to come inside? You can get cleaned up and something to eat. Something to drink. Coffee? Water?” Maybe once she was over the shock of whatever had happened to her, she’d be ready for him to call for help.

  Leo glanced around for a bag, a cell phone, anything she might have that would help tell him who she was without him having to push for her to trust him. He didn’t see anything.

  “W-water,” she choked out. “Water would be nice.”

  Polite. Polished. Beautiful. Leo shook the last thought loose before it could grab hold. “Water I can do.” He inclined his head toward the door. “House is close by. Would you like me to show you?” Now he did reach out his hand. She stared at his hand for a long moment before slowly taking hold. He rose to his feet. She glanced down at the dog before rising. “Ollie can come, too. And you can bring those. If you want.”

  She looked down at the shears still clutched in her other hand. An odd sound erupted from the back of her throat as she dropped them, covered her mouth and stared as if she didn’t understand why she had them.

  It was all Leo could do not to sweep her into his arms, carry her inside and tend to her wounds. But he’d have to be blind not to see the physical signs of trauma were nothing compared to what was going on inside her head. What she needed most right now was to feel safe, to feel comfortable. To feel in control. Only then would he be able to help her.

  He expected her to move away from him once they were outside, perhaps even race off and disappear into the sunrise. Instead, she curled her hand tighter around his and walked—or rather limped—beside him back to the house.

  * * *

  “I need to go get my horse back in his stall,” Leo told her as she sat at the kitchen table. In his grandmother’s chair. The thought brought a smile to his lips even as he wished Essie was here to help him. Help her. He poured the woman a glass of water and set it on the table. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes, all right? Ollie, stay.” He didn’t often command the dog, but Ollie moved in closer to the woman and bumped his nose against her leg.

  The ghost of a smile played across her full lips as she returned to petting the dog.

  “Okay. Just a few minutes.” Leo hurried back to the barn, found Duke exactly where he expected and led the now cranky horse back to his stall. “Gonna be a bit of a delay, I’m afraid.” Not to mention he’d have to head out later than he wanted to fix that downed fence on the eastern pasture. But he wasn’t about to leave the woman alone for long. At least not until he knew more about her. He certainly wasn’t going to just abandon her. His grandmother would have had a fit. “We’ll get you out and running later, Duke. Promise.”

  The horse neighed.

  Leo returned to the house and found his visitor sitting where he’d left her, her hand gently stroking Ollie’s back, her brown-eyed stare vacant and confused. But she’d drunk the water. That was good. “Okay, then.” He glanced at the phone on the wall. “I think maybe I should call the sheriff—”

  “No!” She all but catapulted off the chair, stumbling forward to stop him from lifting the receiver. “No, please. No police. No hospital. I don’t want to see anyone. I’ll go. I’ll leave if you want. But I...” She pushed her hair away from her face and exposed the determination hovering behind the fear in her eyes. “Please. I don’t want anyone to know where I am.”

  “All right.” Leo hadn’t been sure in the barn, but now he was. He recognized that barely restrained panic, that fright and flight response he’d grown up with. His father’s bouts of PTSD after returning home from Iraq had taught Leo early on that the mind was something that shouldn’t be played with. At least not before a modicum of trust had been established. “But I want you to tell me something. And I need you to tell me the truth. Can you do that?”

  She nodded.

  “Have you been raped?”

  She blinked. “No.” She winced, inclined her head as if giving the question more thought. “No. Nothing hurts or feels odd there.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” A breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding released. “If that’s the case, we’ll hold off on calling the authorities. For now. But how about your name?” He couldn’t stop himself. He reached out and caught her hair between his fingers, tucked it behind her ear so he could get a better look at the gash on her head. It had stopped bleeding at least. But it needed tending to. “Can you tell me who you are?”

  “No.” There was that whisper again. Not quite as desperate, however. This time, tinged with a bit of anger. “I’ve been trying and trying, but I don’t know. I’m sorry.” She winced, then pressed a hand against the bridge of her nose. “All I have is this headache that won’t go away. There’s nothing else. Not in here.” She poked a not so gentle finger against her temple. “Why can’t I remember?”

  “Okay, let’s not add to the damage.” He caught her hand and pressed it gently back to her side. “We’ll come back to that later. Sit back down. Let’s get you some more water.” He poured another glass and watched as she finished it. Ollie followed him to the sink and back, as if verifying what
he was doing was for the best. Leo pulled a chair over so they were knee to knee. “Do you remember my name?”

  “Leo. Your name is Leo. That’s Ollie.” She pointed to the dog.

  “Nice that you didn’t get us confused.”

  She smiled a little. “How can I not know who I am? It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know...anything.”

  Shock. Trauma. And that bang on the head couldn’t have done much to help. “You will. You’ve had a shock. Something you aren’t able to process right now.” He held his hands out palm up, and after a moment she dropped hers into them. “How about for now I call you Jane?”

  “Like Jane Doe?” She let out the most unladylike snort he’d ever heard. A sound that lightened his heart more than anything had in a long time. “That’s original.”

  “My grandmother was the writer, not me.” Essie’s letters had been a continuous gift while he’d been working in Alaska. He still had them all bundled, no longer in his duffel, but on his dresser. “I didn’t get one ounce of her creativity. Is Jane okay?”

  She shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.”

  “A rave review indeed,” Leo joked. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some eggs I can cook. And, um, some steaks. I bet you don’t eat steak much.” Given her slight figure, he’d bet she didn’t eat much of anything. A good summer breeze would probably blow her off the property.

  “Eggs sound good. I can help.”

  Leo glanced down at her ragged and broken nails, but given the high shine on that coral polish, he’d bet she’d had her share of manicures. “I’d prefer you didn’t. Not until we know what’s going on with that knock on your head. How about I run upstairs and see about finding you some clothes? Then you can take a shower and we’ll tend to that gash on your head. And your wrists.” He turned her hands over and tried not to wince at the angry welts, scrapes and cuts marring her skin. “I’m betting those feet of yours hurt a bit, too.”